Chapter 25: Next Town Over

A/N: Late upload, I'm focusing more on my new ATLA fanfic right now

---

A woman clad in a business suit sat diligently at her desk, engrossed in her work on the computer, apparently reviewing some essential documents. Abruptly, the phone positioned beside her erupted into a shrill ring, causing her to shift her gaze away from the computer screen and towards the intrusive noise.

For a brief moment, she merely regarded the ringing phone, as if waiting for it to complete a few cycles before she finally reached out and picked it up, her lips curling into a faint smile. 

"Hello, this is—" She began her introduction, but her words were swiftly interrupted by a hurried and stressed voice on the other end of the line. "The fugitives?" she murmured in surprise. "Can you please clarify your exact location, sir?"

Swiftly, she grabbed a piece of paper and jotted down a summary of the urgent information being conveyed to her by the caller. "You've spotted two of them?" the woman inquired further. "Do they possess any weapons or exhibit any unusual physical characteristics, like strange limbs?"

After a series of queries and responses, the woman manipulated the phone to connect the call to a remote location, far from her current place of work. "Do you have knowledge of their current lodgings?" she probed. "A local motel, you say? But only two of them? You're unsure of the whereabouts of the others? Very well, sir. I advise you to remain calm and refrain from alerting the fugitives to their discovery. We'll dispatch backup immediately. Do you have the identities of the three you spotted? Their names should be on the posters we provided. Ethan Hunter and Chris Redfield? Excellent."

She continued to jot down the pertinent details in her notes. "Thank you for promptly reporting this, sir. I strongly urge you not to tip off the fugitives, as that could provide them with an opportunity to escape. Please exercise patience, and our agents will be en route. However, due to your location, it may take a day or two for them to arrive. In the unlikely event of an incident, yes, sir, lethal force is authorized. Good evening."

With the call finally concluded, the woman took a deep breath, glancing at the time displayed on her computer. She proceeded to dial a number using the same phone and waited a few moments until someone on the other end picked up.

"Yeah?" a man's voice responded.

"The fugitives have been spotted in Freeford, Missouri, sir," the woman reported. "I'll withhold the information for a few hours at most. I'll send the recorded phone call shortly."

"Good job, agent," the man acknowledged. "Hail Hydra."

The woman responded with a subdued hum. "Hail Hydra."

---

Inside a rundown motel room, a man lay on a shabby bed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, his expression calm as he had been for the entire night. Suddenly, he sat up, gazing intently at his clenched fist, taking a deep breath, and then rising to his feet. He leaned against the nearby window, peering out into the night sky.

A buzzing sound emanated from his bag, drawing his attention. He turned his gaze towards the source and retrieved a high-tech radio, clearly advanced beyond current technology. With a press of a button, he answered the incoming communication.

"Magnus here," the man replied.

"We've pinpointed your target's location," a voice from the radio conveyed bluntly. "Freeford, Missouri. We'll send you the coordinates shortly. The mission remains unchanged—eliminate them, but do not damage the bodies; they will be subjected to further study."

"Understood," the man acknowledged with a hum.

"Use any means necessary," the voice continued. "We cannot confirm if any of them possess mutant traits. We've only confirmed the presence of two fugitives, and they may have split up."

"Noted."

"Complete the task as swiftly as possible," the voice instructed. "Our counterparts will be informed in a few hours. HQ out."

The radio ceased its transmission, prompting the man to swiftly pack up, securing the radio in his bag, closing it, and leaving the motel within minutes.

---

Now astride his black motorcycle, the man traversed the roads, passing through dense forests. It turned out that the target's location was only a few hours away from the previous town he had been in, making the job unexpectedly expedient, although he cared little for the duration.

Upon entering a small town, the man pulled up in front of a motel called No-Tell Motel and parked his motorcycle in the lot. He entered the reception area and addressed the disinterested receptionist.

"Need a room?" she inquired lazily.

The man simply shook his head and produced a wanted poster of the fugitives, displaying it to the receptionist. "Recognize this face?"

The receptionist raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, they've been here for a couple of days."

The man hummed, withdrawing an envelope from his pocket and sliding it across the counter. "Room number?"

The receptionist opened the envelope, revealing a stack of bills. "069. You want a key?"

The man declined with a shake of his head. "No need." With that, he turned and exited the building.

He strolled down the motel's corridor and, after a few minutes, arrived at room 069. Observing the keyhole, he raised his hand and performed a subtle gesture, causing the door to unlock itself. As he entered the room, he found it unoccupied, with only some bags and personal items.

The fugitives were not present.