The television set made a faint crackling sound, like a group of dry twigs snapping in the distance. It was a familiar sound to Ross McWard, as it occurred whenever the old twenty-four inch set inexplicably lost reception, and ever since he quit teaching English, he'd spent much more time in front of that TV than he'd care to admit.

Distracted by sundry paperwork, several moments passed before it even registered with him that he was sitting across from a dead set, listening to the unrelenting buzz as the screen displayed a solid wall of flickering salt-and-pepper grain.

He held the papers out in front of him and released his hold on them. A good number of the files slipped away before the pile landed on the coffee table and drifted to the carpet surrounding the table. Only half of them had made it to their intended destination. Trying not to step on any of his paperwork, Ross stood up and maneuvered around the table to turn off the television.
As the fuzz on the screen dropped into blackness, he made a mental note to find the remote control. He crouched down and started gathering the fallen documents when he heard the doorknob to his bedroom jiggle behind him.

Finally. Jill Valentine, for whatever reason, had shown up at his apartment earlier wearing civilian clothing only to slide past him and ask where she could go to change into her S.T.A.R.S. uniform. Why she needed to wear her uniform in the first place was lost on him. After all, this was an excursion for the Ferret City officers, so a Raccoon City officer like her needn't concern herself with such formalities. Besides, he thought that she looked really hot in the outfit she was already wearing, an ocean blue button-up top that hugged the contours of her torso closely, with tight black casual pants and an assortment of accessories that he didn't really understand the purpose of.

Ross finished bringing his paperwork back into alignment and placed the stack squarely on the table, rising to see Jill standing at the end of his hallway, doing her best impression of a runway model at a "law enforcement chic" fashion show.

"I have to say Jill," he said, holding his hands up so that they formed a box through which he surveyed her uniform, "I'm digging the, uh, shoulder pads."

She slouched a bit and shot him a dodgy glance. Noticing her expression, he shrugged abashedly and motioned for her to continue. She looked into the hallway mirror and situated her signature beret atop her head.

"You know, I've never actually seen another S.T.A.R.S. beret." Ross intoned. He had already resumed his position on the sofa, and he was leaning over the back of it to look at her. "Where did you even get it?"

"I've actually had the beret for a while, and I just got a S.T.A.R.S patch sewn to it when I joined up." Jill informed him. She made her way down the hall and lifted the papers off of the coffee table, tucking them into a file folder. Without warning, Ross sprang up and snatched the beret from her head.
"Hey!" she exclaimed, putting the folder in her bag to focus on retrieving her headgear.

"How do I look?" Ross inquired.

Jill had to smile at how despicable he did in fact look. Her beret was obviously too small for him, so rather than wearing it, he was just sort of standing there with it situated awkwardly atop his head as it threatened to slide off the side and drop to the floor. Tufts of his dark auburn hair stuck out haphazardly from under it.
"Like a doofus." She responded before grabbing the beret and putting it back in its rightful spot over her own crown.
"Anyway," she continued, "it doesn't match your uniform."

Looking at his uniform, though, she mused that it could do with some personalization. As it was, it was rather unremarkable, standard gear which he had predictably chosen in a dull array of earthtones. It consisted simply of the standard tactical vest, deep green with very limited modifications, worn over a brown shirt bearing the Ferret City S.T.A.R.S logo, with basic tan canvas pants and a pair of combat boots which had certainly seen better days.

Would he look good with a properly-fitted beret? Jill wondered. …nah.

"Now come on," she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Didn't you say that you'd need to be there for the secondary briefing by 6:30?"

"Yeah," Ross replied.

"Well it's 6:27."

"Shit."

It was approximately 6:47 by the time Jill and Ross crossed the threshold of the S.T.A.R.S. headquarters within the Ferret City police station.
Ross held the door open, allowing Jill to move through before zipping past her, weaving around the empty desks of the Echo Team members to procure an extra chair.
She barely had time to notice the impatient stares of the punctual officers before he returned, folding chair in hand. He gingerly placed the folding chair adjacent to his desk and slid out his own chair, only for Jill to take advantage of this and usurp his seat.

"You're such a gentleman." She was whispering, but the sarcasm in her tone was still palpable.

"Who says chivalry is dead?" he played along as he moved around to sit in the chair he had originally brought for her.

Someone near the front of the room cleared their throat in an unnecessarily loud fashion. Jill reflexively snapped to attention, but out of her peripheral vision, she could see that Ross was busy compulsively reorganizing his own workstation.

"McWard!" the man at the front of the room barked.
Jill nudged Ross, perhaps a bit harder than she intended, so that he momentarily looked up—not to the front, but at her.
"Professor!" the man called again.
The title seemed to command Ross's attention more than his own surname, and he jerked upright in his seat, eyes glued to the front.
Once he was sure that he had successfully rerouted Ross's focus to where it properly should be, the man in front proceeded.
"Once more, you're late."

"I know, captain, sir. It won't happen again." Ross apologized.
The captain studied the young woman sitting in Ross's desk. "Can I trust him on this, Officer Valentine?"

Jill shrugged. An uncomfortable silence ensued.

"Well, then, you two get your shit together." the captain carried on after taking a moment to contemplate Jill's unenthused shrugging, "We're already preparing to board the chopper."
With this statement, all members of Ferret City's Delta Team stood up and began their trek to the helipad on the roof. All of them except for Carrick Wilkins, who remained standing at his own desk, balling up a sheet of paper. Ross eyed his fellow officer curiously. Suddenly, Carrick launched the paper ball at Ross's face. It was deflected by the lens of his glasses and bounced into Jill's hands.
She cautiously unfolded the paper and laid it flat on the desk to view it.


MISSION BRIEFING
August 6th, 1998

At 01100 hours 15 minutes, Echo Team will perform a flyover of the Koehler Lake area before landing on the Saint Adrian's helipad and performing reconnaissance of the building and the surrounding area.

At 01900 hours 15 minutes, Delta Team's UH-1 is expected to touch down in the Koehler Woods. The pilot has been given the coordinates of a clearing. After Delta Team surveys the area, the teams will rendezvous in front of Saint Adrian's.

From there, you will await further instructions.

Jill Valentine of the Raccoon City S.T.A.R.S. will accompany Delta Team by request of Captain Duval.

Jill finished reading to find Carrick gone, and Ross tapping his foot anxiously as if he'd been waiting for an hour rather than thirty seconds. He pushed her bag across the desk.
"Alright, alright," she groaned, shoving him along as she shuffled out from behind his desk.

"Sir, radio communication with Echo Team has been lost." Carrick informed the captain, fidgeting with his radio while simultaneously inspecting his Walther P38. Carrick had always been the most brilliant multi-tasker the team had ever seen. Conversely, he also had one of the shortest attention spans.
To most members of Ferret's S.T.A.R.S, it was a complete mystery how Carrick had accumulated such a vast knowledge of technology all while wrestling with his limited ability to focus, but this merely stood as a further testament to his multi-tasking talents.

Next to Carrick sat close-combat expert and all-around good guy Andrew Bouchard. A tall, burly character with a unique sense of humor, Andrew was liked—though perhaps not respected—by everyone in the Ferret Police Department.

Carrick persisted fidgeting with the radio for a moment as the captain, standing amidst both rows of seats, watched him expectantly. A tremendous burst of static rang out through the helicopter's interior.
"Have we regained communication?" the captain asked eagerly.

Just then, a tinny, nearly indiscernible voice came through the radio, clips of words audible between contained explosions of harsh noise.

"Delt… …am… …ank god yo… …ere ar… …stran… …creatu… …ere." the device blared.

Ross, who was shocked enough by the desperation in the speaker's tone, was even more surprised by Jill's hand latching onto his own.

He looked over his shoulder at her to find her looking back, a look of intense apprehension across her face.
For a few seconds he remained transfixed by the brightness and the depth of her eyes before the concerned voice of Erin Alderberg, the team's pilot, pulled him out of the trance.

"Captain Duval?" Erin addressed the captain.

"Yeeeeeesss?" he answered slowly.

"The coordinates you gave us, sir…" she swallowed. "…there's no clearing in sight."


More canon characters will join the cast eventually. Reviews are greatly appreciated.