Chapter Text
**Chapter 1: The Plan, the Wig, and the Alpha Squad**
Claire paced back and forth in the small apartment, her heavy footsteps echoing on the hardwood floor. Sitting on the couch, Moira Burton watched her with crossed arms and an expression that mixed shock with pure amusement.
"Listen up, Moira, the plan is perfectly logical if you don't think too much about federal laws," Claire began, stopping in the center of the room and gesturing with her hands. "Operation Illyria is the biggest joint training exercise the BSAA has ever organized. They closed the doors to TerraSave, saying civilians and NGOs would 'disrupt the chain of command'. But I have informants, Moira. There's an internal leak. Someone on the inside is diverting confiscated viral samples and using the base as a smuggling route."
Moira raised an eyebrow. "Right, and where does your suicidal idea come into this?"
"Chris was called up to lead Alpha Squad," Claire continued, her eyes shining with the adrenaline of the idea. "But he sent me an encrypted message yesterday. He's stuck in London following a lead on a Neo-Umbrella cell and will be off the radar for two weeks. If he doesn't report to Illyria tomorrow, he'll be considered a deserter. The high command is already looking for reasons to push him out."
Claire leaned forward, resting her hands on her knees. "So, I'm going in his place. I save my idiot brother's career and, as a bonus, infiltrate the base to find out who the traitor is. No one in the new administration knows Chris personally, only his file. We have the same eyes, the same face shape..."
"Claire." Moira interrupted her, standing up. "You have boobs. And you are not six-foot-three of pure, steroid-fueled muscle."
"That's where you come in." Claire smiled, pulling a shopping bag and tossing it onto the couch. "Baggy tactical clothes. Boots with internal lifts. A compression chest binder. And that artistic makeup skill of yours that you hide from your dad."
Half an hour later, Claire's bedroom had transformed into a special ops dressing room. Moira tightened the last strip of wrapping around Claire's torso, flattening it completely, and began working on the jawline shading with makeup to simulate a five o'clock shadow. With an incredibly realistic brown wig cut into a standard military style, Claire faced the mirror. The resemblance was uncanny. She looked like a slightly younger version of Chris.
"The secret is the attitude," Moira instructed, handing her the heavy backpack. "Guys don't just walk, they occupy space. Broad shoulders, legs apart. Deepen that voice and don't show complex emotions."
"I am Chris Redfield and I shoot rocks in my spare time," Claire tried, forcing her tone into the deepest register she could manage.
Moira laughed out loud. "Perfect. Go get 'em, 'dude'."
---
The Illyria Base smelled of hot asphalt and industrial disinfectant. The main courtyard was buzzing with recruits and veteran agents from various divisions. Claire walked with long strides, forcing her shoulders down, mentally repeating the mantra of toxic masculinity Moira had taught her.
Distracted while trying to adjust her heavy backpack, she bumped hard into the shoulder of a tall man holding an evaluation clipboard.
"Whoa! Watch where you're going, recruit!" the man reprimanded, catching the clipboard before it fell.
"My bad, sir," Claire deepened her voice immediately, clearing her throat and snapping an awkward salute. "Chris Redfield. Reporting for duty."
The instructor evaluated her with a hard look, jotting something down on the clipboard. "Instructor Jonah. You'd better pay attention to your surroundings, Redfield. This isn't a vacation camp." He sighed, dusting off the sleeve of his jacket and looking at the gold wedding band on his finger. "And try not to get so dirty. My wife already wants to kill me every time I come home with a filthy uniform, I don't need recruits messing up my inspection area. The Alpha barracks is Block B, room 214. Go."
Claire nodded rigidly and marched toward the barracks, relieved. The disguise was holding up.
Upon opening the door to room 214, she was met with a tiny space dominated by a metal bunk bed. Sitting on the bottom bunk, methodically cleaning a Silver Ghost pistol, was Leon S. Kennedy. His hair was perfectly styled, and his muscles were tensed beneath a tight black t-shirt. He looked up with his blue eyes and flashed an amorous smile.
"Redfield. Finally. I thought the big hero of Rockfort Island had chickened out."
Claire froze for a fraction of a second. If there was anyone there who could recognize her, it was Leon. She swallowed hard, threw her backpack onto the top bunk, and forced a deep laugh.
"Had a setback with the flight, Kennedy. You know how it is."
Leon laughed, holstering his weapon and standing up to greet her with a firm handshake and a comrade-like slap on the back that nearly made Claire lose her balance.
"Glad you made it, man. I'm the Alpha Captain for this simulation. Our squad needed your artillery background. Make yourself at home."
Leon's casual demeanor relaxed her. He really thought she was Chris.
"Thanks, Leon. Promise not to snore too loud."
---
Later, in the overcrowded cafeteria, Claire sat at the table with Leon, chewing on meat of questionable origin. Leon was restless, repeatedly glancing toward a table on the other side of the hall.
"What's the matter?" Claire asked, deepening her voice and stuffing a huge piece of bread into her mouth to look more barbaric.
"The problem, Chris, is the Final Operation. The winning team gets immunity from the board evaluations at the end of the year," Leon explained, leaning over the table. He discretely pointed his fork toward a woman sitting alone, reading a tablet. It was Jill Valentine. Impeccable posture, a lethal gaze—the quintessence of competence.
"Valentine?" Claire asked, raising an eyebrow.
"The one and only. She's the best tactical strategist on the base, maybe in the world. If we get her on Alpha Squad, we crush Krauser's Bravo Squad without breaking a sweat. The problem is she refuses to join our team."
"Why not?"
Leon sighed, looking genuinely frustrated. "She says I'm 'reckless, a show-off, and a logistical nightmare'. She can't stand my leadership. I've tried everything—appealed to professionalism, to glory... she ignores me. But you..."
Leon looked at "Chris" with eyes shining with hope.
"She's always respected you, Redfield. The great Chris. Go talk to her. Convince Jill to join Alpha. If you pull this off, I'll cover your weapon-cleaning shifts for the rest of the month."
Claire hesitated. Approaching Jill Valentine in disguise was a massive risk. But having Jill close by could be the key to accessing the confidential files she needed to find the BSAA traitor.
"Alright. I'll talk to her." Claire wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, stood up, and walked over to Jill's table.
Jill didn't even bother to look up from her tablet when Claire stopped in front of her.
"If Kennedy sent you here to recruit me again, tell him my answer is still no, and next time I'll break his arm," Jill said, her voice cold and cutting.
Claire pulled out the chair and sat down without asking for permission, crossing her arms.
"Kennedy is a show-off idiot, I agree," Claire said, keeping her voice deep but smooth. "Halting Bravo Squad won't happen just because of firepower. Alpha needs a brain. From what I saw on the tactics board outside, the rest of the base is focusing only on raw power. That's stupid. Real strength doesn't come from shooting first; it comes from understanding the anatomy of the conflict and the psychology of the enemy. Without you, they're going to enter the final simulation like a bunch of blind bulls."
Slowly, Jill lowered the tablet. Her intense eyes locked with Claire's. Her cold, calculating expression gave way to a spark of surprise and interest.
"Chris Redfield," Jill murmured, analyzing her from head to toe. "You don't sound like the reports say. I expected a gun-fanatic brute, not someone quoting tactical intelligence fundamentals in the cafeteria."
Claire gave a half-smile, leaning slightly forward. "Don't believe everything you read in reports, Valentine. Some people have more layers than the uniform shows."
Jill held her gaze, a small, rare smile tugging at the corner of her lips. There was a spark there, an unexpected recognition.
"Interesting..." Jill said softly, closing her tablet. "Very interesting. You know, Redfield, I think you and I have a lot to talk about. Maybe Alpha Squad isn't a completely lost cause after all."
On the other side of the cafeteria, Leon gave a "thumbs up" sign, completely oblivious to the incredibly dangerous and complex web Claire had just begun to weave. The plan was in motion, but keeping up the disguise under the watchful and suddenly fascinated gaze of Jill Valentine would be the greatest challenge of her life.