(Author’s Note: This is a continuation of my first fanfiction, it will make
a small serial! I have decided to give it the title ‘Freebird’ for obvious
reasons in this chapter. I hope that you enjoy reading it, and you can feed
my back at CassSpaz@hotmail.com !

Rebecca had never realized how boring chasing down the forces of evil could
be. For one thing, Chris’s car was not air conditioned and the two
S.T.A.R.S. members had to choose between sweltering in the stifling air of
the car or opening the windows and being assailed by freezing air.

She also thought that while Chris was her friend, and she greatly admired
him, he had awful taste in music. The marksman would play stuff with guitars
that were decidedly not to Rebecca’s taste, for these guitars were loud and
angry. Also, Chris tended to take enthusiasm in his music and would sing
along, passionately out of tune while Rebecca cringed beside him.

The hotels that they stayed in were crummy, the meals that they were ate
left much to be desired. Chris was adament that they couldn’t reveal their
true identities and so they never stayed in one place for long, were always
on the run. Rebecca wondered if she regretted her decision, and after a long
time, decided that she did not. Even if what they were doing did not seem
special or glamorous, she knew it would pay off in the end with the downfall
of the evil conglomerate. Besides, she had to avenge Bravo. She was the only
one left.

That was not the most comforting thought, and it stuck with her. The only
one left. The marksman and the medic rode mostly in silence, alternating
between blistering heat and cold winds. It was hard to be cheerful when
thoughts of vengeance and death resided in one’s heart.

One night, as Rebecca slept in a room across from Chris’s, she had finally
drifted off to sleep. Suddenly, a hand was shaking her awake.

She didn’t answer, she merely retrieved the pistol that she kept hidden
under her pillow in lieu of Chris. Rolling as if shifting blearily from
sleep, she suddenly sprang into action, pointing the gun at the intruder’s
face, her breathing heavy.

“Point that thing away from my face, ‘Becca.” Chris’s voice in the darkness
was alarmed. Rebecca flushed, lowered the gun and turned on the light. Even
the lamp was grimy, she noticed. “We’re getting out of here, now. I think
we’re being followed.”

“Followed?” Despite her quick plan of action, Rebecca’s head was still not
quite clear, her thoughts were a bit slower than they might have normally
been. She slipped out of bed and pulled on her jeans, bunched on the floor.
Chris looked away until she was zipped up and had pulled on her sandals, and
then they were out the door.

“They surrounded our car…” Rebecca breathed, peeking around the corner of
the brick motel. Indeed, Chris’s beat up Chevy had three Umbrella goons
surrounding it. One was leaning against it, the other two were pacing around
the car.

“So we’ll hotwire one,” Chris said, and motioned for her to follow him.
After a moment of thought, he selected a beat up looking pickup truck. There
was a terse moment of fiddling with wires.

“They know that we know they’re here,” Rebecca breathed. “Why are they
waiting outside our car? The element of surprise is gone; they should just
storm us if they knew anything…” The answer to her question was answered as
two more men approached the goons already surrounding Chris’s beloved
junker. The men who had just left the hotel were both holding guns. They
were not in their room, they had not fled to their car, they would start a
search soon. “Hurry, Chris!”

In response, the lead singer of Lynard Skynard crooned from the radio at
them. “’Cause I’m free, as a bird now… and this bird you cannot chase! Woah,
a-woah-a-woah!”. The previous owner of the car, apparently, liked their
music loud and blaring. The guitars broke the uneasy silence of the night.
There was no way the Umbrella men could not have head that, even as Chris
hastened to turn down the volume.

“Get in!” he shouted, and Rebecca was only too happy to oblige. She
scrambled inside, brushing her bangs out of her eyes, and slammed the door.
Before she could buckle up her seatbelt, Chris slammed his foot down on the
accelator and they went speeding forward, catching two of the dastardly men
who had been sent to end their lives on the hood of their new ride, which
thankfully had both working air conditioner and heater. The other men
shouted curses and shot at their car, and Chris again barked a short order.
“Get down!” he said gruffly at Rebecca, who once again obeyed immediately.

They chased after the car on foot, but they were slow, and Chris was an
excellent driver. Despite the terrain being rocky and steep, he steered
superbly to get them to safety. Rebecca exhaled hard.

“How did you do that?” she demanded of the all-American marksman who was
looking very pleased with himself at the moment.

“I was a bit of a hooligan when I was young,” he responded to the medic. “I
learnt a few things. You okay with not sleeping tonight?”

She responded by nodding and staring out the window. The lyrics of the song
seemed very fitting.