A/N: Hello again, everyone on . This is Jammer69er here, author of 'The Fall of Raccoon', and here is the first instalment of 'Tales from the Necropolis', a side project that runs parallel with the main story, featuring characters that have featured briefly in the story, and following their efforts to survive the nightmare that used to be Raccoon City.
One reason I wanted to do this is because I wanted to try and capture the terror and desperation of the civilians of the city as the T-Virus started to take hold, and every second becomes a battle for survival. There will be cameos and references to other characters and scenarios from TFOR, and also new perspectives and viewpoints for certain scenes also featured in the main story, I hope.
So without further ado…
Tales from the Necropolis
Prologue
September 1998…the time when Raccoon City, a small town in America's Mid-west, was totally wiped off the map. The cause? An outbreak of a deadly mutagenic toxin, the T-Virus, developed in secret by Umbrella Incorporate, one of the world's largest and most prestigious pharmaceutical companies, which specialised in secret experiments utilising biological weapons, designed for military purposes. As a result of their crimes, the city they had adopted as their base of operations in the United States was totally infected by an outbreak of the virus, and within the space of over a week, Raccoon City was wiped off of the map.
By the 27th of September, Raccoon City had become a Necropolis, a city filled with the dead. The majority of Raccoon's 100,000 population had been infected with the virus and reduced to a second, horrific existence as the walking dead. But not all were condemned to such a fate: among the city's population were small numbers of those whose determination to survive allowed them to live on while those around them succumbed to the very worst humanity could offer.
These are their stories. And the stories of what limits mankind will push itself to, in order to survive the worst disaster imaginable…
Chapter 1: That Dread Feeling
September 25th 0712 hours
BRRRIIINNNGGG!!!
A hand reached over and slapped down on top of the alarm clock, silencing its incessant alarm. There was a low groaning, and one of the occupants of the room groaned and rolled over, before sitting up and rubbing his eyes a few times to help himself to wake up. Lenny Bristol groaned again and swung his legs around onto the carpeted floor, pulling on a plain grey t-shirt as he did so, getting to his feet and stretching his arms above him.
Lenny Bristol was a man in his early thirties, with short dark hair and grey-green coloured eyes, of a moderate build. And he also happened to be a 5-year veteran of the Raccoon City Police department, a position he had served with distinction and valour, or at least that's what the commendation ceremony had said about him the year before, after he'd superbly handled and defused a stand-off with a gang of bank robbers following a rather dramatic city-wide chase that had been regarded as one of the worst crimes that had plagued the city in recent times. Though he'd been rather modest in accepting the commendation in the first place, a lot of the precinct, especially the newer recruits, regarded him as a living hero.
He wandered through to the en suite, pulling the light cord on. He looked at his reflection, blinking repeatedly as his eyes tried to adjust to the sudden light change. He considered his weary appearance briefly, wishing he could have had more sleep, but he couldn't have that luxury: he couldn't get the leave, and the entire department was being pushed to breaking point, even though they had requested a lot of new recruits lately. 30 alone were expected to turn up by the end of the week.
8 murders in the last week alone, and all with the same MO: victims apparently eaten alive, by some twisted cannibalistic cult, the press had stated, and it was the closest answer that the R.P.D could come to themselves. They still couldn't find any definite answer as to why these murders had started in the first place: they couldn't find their main suspects; there was no pattern to the killings. They thought it had all ended at the end of July, but now it had all flared up once again.
Today was likely to be yet another busy day in this grusome saga.
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Refreshed and dressed in a plain white shirt and blue jeans, Lenny Bristol entered his kitchen, where the rest of his family had gathered, preparing for the rest of the day.
"Morning honey," smiled his wife, Anna, as he sat himself down at the head of the table. She was a sweet-natured girl he had met when he first moved to Raccoon City, years before. It was love at first sight, many would say. She was tall and slim, with long strawberry blonde hair and an almond-shaped face, with emerald green eyes and flawless skin. She was a doctor at Raccoon General, and had been for the last 3 years.
"Morning, sweetness," he smiled, as the two of them shared a quick kiss. And then he turned towards the small figure sat on the seat to the right of him, their arms laid out across the table, either side of a bowl of cereal. "And how's my little man doing today?"
"I'm fine, daddy," beamed his 5 year-old son, Lewis. The boy was golden-haired and fair faced, so he definitely took after his mother in that regard…well, he had his father's cheeky streak, but that was about it.
"That's good son," smiled Lenny, ruffling the child's hair, before walking into the hall. "Gonna go get the paper, honey."
"Allright," called Anna back, as he passed by the dog basket laid out in the hall, and the German Shepherd that had been lying there started to stir, her tail wagging furiously as her master passed by.
"Hey girl," he smiled, stroking her head, and she was bounding up, following after him to the door. Sasha her name was, and she was due to be one of the drug sniffer dogs for the force, but her career didn't really pan out, and a new home was needed for her, so Lenny had taken her in. She'd proven to be a fine addition to the Bristol household in the long run.
He opened the front door and stepped out into the cool morning air, stretching his arms above him and yawning wide as he did so. He lived at 9 Pine Avenue, one of the nicest suburbs in the whole of the Raccoon City area, with neatly-trimmed green lawns, well-furnished, expensive detached houses and very friendly neighbours, like some cliché of ideal American living, but Lenny wasn't really bothered by that: he was lucky enough to be able to move out of his inner city apartment and into a place like this, space for a family.
"Morning Lenny," said a voice from his right, and he turned to see his neighbour, David Foster, standing by his hedges, pruning them with a set of hand shears. He was a kindly old gentleman in his early sixties, his dark hair starting to turn silver, but he was still as fit as an ox, and he was a gardening obsessive: now retired from his job as a city engineer, he spent a lot of his days tending to his beloved front garden patch, which was by far the best garden in the whole city, one had to admit. He would always wear a bright blue gardening apron while he did his gardening as well.
"Morning Dave," smiled Lenny back, walking down his path and picking up the morning edition of the Raccoon Press, the city's main tabloid newspaper. Sasha followed close behind him, but then she started to run around the lawn, barking in joy to be let out for the morning. Lenny unfolded the paper, and looked at the headline, frowning.
MURDERS DEATH TOLL THIS WEEK RISES TO 12.
He sighed and shook his head. It wasn't the first bad headline he'd read recently. Since mid-August the city had been plagued by numerous bizarre murders that had taken place in the suburbs and city outskirts mainly, though a few had occurred within the downtown area recently. It was just like those 'cannibal murders' back in the early summer…even though that case had been announced officially closed at the end of July.
"Damned shame, isn't it?" said Mr Foster from behind his hedge sadly, shaking his head. "All those dead people…and you and your friends have to clean the mess up."
"Don't remind me," said Lenny. He still remembered the grisly sights he had witnessed back at the first murder scene he had visited. It was disgusting, to say the least. The state that poor woman had been left in-
"But that's our duty, after all," he smiled, tucking the paper back under his arm. "Back to the grind, I suppose."
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He was quiet for the rest of breakfast, as he read the main story in the print before him, as Sasha lay at his feet, breathing softly. He scanned the lines quickly, reading aloud in his head.
Late last night, the bodies of Peter Faulkner and the rest of his family, wife Jessica and his twin daughters Katie and Charlotte, were discovered at their home on Birch Road, brutally murdered, in the latest of the recent string of gruesome 'cannibal murders' that have plagued the city for some months now. It is speculated that the murders were committed by the same gang who have carried out past attacks, although police chief Irons and the rest of the Raccoon Police Department are remaining silent for the time being-
"I really wish you wouldn't read that stuff at the table," said Anna from ahead of him. He sighed and lowered the paper, making contact with her concerned eyes. He then glanced to the side at his son, who was busy with his bowl of cereal, dripping milk all over the table top, as he usually did, taking no interest in what his father was doing at the moment.
"It's hard when you have to deal with it face to face though," he sighed, tucking the newspaper away for the time being, but he'd be going back to it later that day, he reckoned. "I mean we're all spooked out, but Irons still won't do anything. He keeps telling the public not to panic, and tells us not to divulge anything to anyone…but we need to act now!" The anger in his voice was clearly evident when he finished his statement, stabbing a finger into the table. This case was getting to him. Anna continued to look at him, concerned, before she got to her feet and moved around beside him.
"I know you find it hard," she said, "but I still think he's too young to be exposed to this kind of stuff." She was talking about their son.
"I know, I know," he nodded, rubbing his eyes. "I'm just scared they'll come here next…if anything were to happen to either of you-"
"Hey, nothing is going to happen," she said, looking him straight in the eye. "You'd protect us all, won't you?" Lenny looked into his wife's eyes, and felt himself complied to agree with anything she said.
"You're right," he smiled, holding onto one of her hands. "I'd walk to the ends of the earth to keep you both safe if I had to."
"That makes me so happy," she smiled back. "Now, who's up for some breakfast?"
"Sounds good to me," Lenny smiled back. Sasha seemed to agree as well, as she got to her feet again, tail wagging furiously.
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A few hours later, Lenny walked into the men's locker room of the R.P.D, throwing his bag of essentials down onto one of the benches, before opening the locker marked with his initials. Inside, a light-blue R.P.D shirt, a Kevlar vest and a pair of dark pants were hanging up, standard-issue uniform for all officers. A pair of brown leather shoes were standing in the bottom of the locker, and several small items, including a penlight, his Beretta handgun and holster, a box of bullets for the weapon, his pepper spray, and his handcuffs, lay on the top shelf of the locker, ready for him to start his shift for the day.
One by one, he removed the items of clothing, draping them over the bench, before he removed the black jacket he was wearing and hanging it in place of the shirt, before he started to pull on the black pants. And then he noticed the picture pinned to the inside of the locker door.
It was a photo taken the year before. It showed himself and a few other veteran officers from the R.P.D, at the ceremony to receive their commendations for outstanding services to their duty for protecting the people of the city. They were all dressed in full dress uniform, complete with the peaked caps and buttoned-up dark blue jackets, all of them smiling as they held onto the brass-plated shields they had been presented with just previously by Mayor Warren himself. He smiled as he remembered that day; it was like some crazy dream that never ended.
He looked up as he heard someone else enter the locker room, hurrying over to their own locker on the opposite side of the room, throwing the door open with a loud 'clang'. The other officer was younger than Lenny, in his mid twenties at least, with short dark hair and green eyes, his face clean-shaven. He was wearing some dark faded jeans and a battered denim jacket, which he quickly removed and hung up on one of the hangers, retrieving his R.P.D clothing as he did so. Lenny smiled when he realised who it was.
"Hey Dean," he said simply, causing the younger man to jump in surprise before turning around.
"Morning Lenny," he replied.
Dean Travers was a fairly new member of the R.P.D: a native of Virginia, he'd moved to Raccoon City a couple of years back on the recommendation of Ben Campbell, one of the other higher-ranked officers who also happened to be Dean's old friend from years back: even if Dean himself had zero experience in law enforcement. Lenny and a few others didn't like him that much at first: he was so quiet and serious, unlike Ben, the precinct's practical joker. But over time he'd proven himself to be a good officer, a man who'd do what was asked of him, to the best of his abilities.
"How's it going?" asked Lenny, shaking the young man's hand as a sign of goodwill.
"It's been fine Lenny, how about the family?" replied Dean as he pulled on his Kevlar vest.
"They're good," nodded Lenny as he donned his own vest as well. "It's just that I can't help but fear for them in the current climate…all those murders going on…but hey, don't let me be all doom and gloom," he then said, managing a smile.
"Geez dude, that must be tough," sighed Dean, rubbing his chin. He didn't have any family in the city, so he had to try and put himself in Lenny's shoes in that regard.
"Yeah…but I'd rather talk about something else," continued Lenny. "How's Ben doing?"
"Yeah, he's good…cheerful as usual, despite the murders and all," replied Dean, folding his arms in front of his chest. "We've been called out to Jack's Bar anyway…Jack shot some guy eating this poor woman alive, I've heard."
"Oh damn," muttered Lenny, as Dean glanced at his watch suddenly.
"Shit, that reminds me, I better pull my finger out and get going," he said, quickly reaching for his R.P.D shirt and pulling it on. "Are we still on for that night-out at the weekend?"
"Oh hell yes," laughed Lenny. "Trust me, it's been way too long since I last had a good cold drink."
"That's the spirit," grinned Dean, as he reached for his holster and started to tie it around his belt. "We need our best drinker on board if we're going to put Raccoon's best drinking holes out of business, eh?"
"I'll try," smiled Lenny, "though my poor liver might say otherwise." The two officers laughed amongst themselves: the prospect of that night out was sounding very good right about now, after the week they'd just had.
Pity they'd never get a chance to have that night out.
A few minutes later, the two cops were fully changed and ready to go, and went their own separate ways. Dean headed off to the back lot, while Lenny made his way to the west office, passing by his fellow officers, nodding and greeting the ones he recognised. He'd barely walked into the west office itself when he found himself face-to-face with an African-American officer with a well-trimmed beard, a bunch of files clutched under his arm. It was Marvin Branagh, the force's Lieutenant, and one of the most respected officers in the entire R.P.D.
"Morning Lenny," he said, barely managing a smile.
"Geez man, when did you last sleep?" asked Lenny, concerned. Lately, poor Marvin had been up late most nights trying to clean up this whole mess of the cannibal murders: the press releases, managing the transfer of information between the other groups involved, tasks the chief of police should have been on top of, but apparently not.
"Don't ask," muttered Marvin, leafing through his files for a quick second. "Irons really should be on top of all this, but that fat oaf seems more content to sit up in that damned office of his, letting the rest of us run about for him."
"Someone really should talk to him," said Lenny, shaking his head. "Irons is usually never this slow to take action."
"You think I haven't already tried?!" asked Marvin, rhetorically. "It's like talking to a brick wall."
"Hey, don't get too chewed up over it," said Lenny, reassuringly. "How's the family?"
"They're good, thanks for asking," smiled Marvin. "Malcolm's really enjoying school, so that's good. What about your own family?"
"They're great," smiled Lenny. "Anna's got some time off next week, so we're thinking of taking a trip out of town for a nice change. The way things have been lately, that'd be a luxury."
"Yeah, sounds good," nodded Marvin, before he quickly got back to business. "But for now Lenny, I need you and Jeff to look at the Birch Road case."
"You mean, the Faulkner family murders?" asked Lenny, the details of that news story coming to mind immediately.
"That's right," nodded Marvin. "I know it won't be pretty, but we are really short on manpower today, and I would really appreciate it if you did…look, I'll owe you both a cold drink once you've gone and made a report."
"Fine," said Lenny, raising his hands after a few quick seconds of thinking. "But at this rate, you owe us both a six pack!"
"Oh, don't worry about that," grinned Marvin, "all this time not buying drinks means I've got a lot of money to spare."
"Well that's good to hear Marvin," said a new voice from behind the two of them. They both turned to see a short, stocky red-haired man standing there, hands on his hips and a toothpick clenched in his teeth. It was Jeff Danson, Lenny's partner and old friend: they'd known each other for about 15 years, served in the R.P.D for 5 years each, and had been partners for that entire period, which was unusual considering how much the other officers usually rotated through their partners.
"And how are we today?" asked Lenny, smiling as he and Jeff knocked fists.
"Same as always, just peachy," smiled Jeff back, tossing his toothpick into a nearby waste bin, and then just as quickly taking another one out of his pocket and putting it back between his teeth. Apparently he had OCD, and chewing on those toothpicks helped him to calm down.
"You ready to go kick some cannibal ass?"
"We're just going to look at a crime scene," scoffed Lenny. "They're probably long gone by now."
"Hey, you never know, we might get lucky," retorted Jeff. "One of those cannibal freaks might be hiding in a bush, and when he tries to take a bite out of me, and then BAM! We're heroes."
"A bite out of you?" asked Lenny, raising an eyebrow. "Why not me?"
"Cause you're too scrawny to be a good meal, that's why," retorted Jeff. Lenny punched his partner in the arm in response.
"Yeah well, I doubt they'd go for a smartass like you anyways."
"Er, I'd like that report by today if you don't mind, children," said Marvin, who had just been standing there while the two partners went through their old banter routine. Patience was a virtue when working with Lenny Bristol and Jeff Danson.
"Oh of course, we'll get that done Marvin," replied Jeff. "Long as Lenny doesn't crash the car on the way there."
That remark earned him another punch to the arm.
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Lenny turned the car down another street, into the business district, which was usually thronging with people every day of the week, but now it was strangely abandoned, and only a few people walked the sidewalks. It was the murders, it had to be: people were scared to walk the streets now, convinced that the police weren't doing enough to keep them safe. Chief Irons really needed to get off of his ass and do something to reassure the people, otherwise it wouldn't be enough.
"This whole place seems to be losing its soul," sighed Jeff, looking out the passenger side window. "People are terrified to walk the streets now."
"You said it," replied Lenny, not taking his eyes off of the road. "Irons really needs to do something."
"You can say that again!" spat Jeff suddenly, with unusual venom in his voice. "We all know fine well that Marvin or Neil would be 10 times better as chief than him!"
"You still bitter about the painting incident?" asked Lenny, half-amused. Some months before, the chief had bought in a new painting for the briefing room fireplace…but whoever thought the image of a naked woman being burned at the stake constituted art had some serious issues. But anyway, Jeff had made some comment about it being an accurate representation of the chief's mind, and it filtered back to Irons himself eventually, who called Jeff into his office and proceeded to go straight through him.
"He had no right to talk to me like that!" replied Jeff, his back up. "He talked to me like I was some piece of shit he just scraped off of his shoe, screaming his head off. I should have broken his damned nose."
"Then you'd be looking for a new job afterwards," laughed Lenny.
"I swear though," continued Jeff, ignoring his partner's comment, "that guy has the equivalent of all our salaries in worthless paintings and other 'art' in the precinct…he must have a hell of a good bonus system going."
Lenny was inclined to agree in that respect. Several art pieces purchased by the chief could be seen around the precinct buildings, and several of them cost at least $20,000, easily. So how could the chief afford all of that, on his salary?
"We can worry about that some other time," muttered Lenny, turning onto Birch Road and seeing the small crowd gathered outside number 8. "We got work to do right now."
Lenny pulled up on the sidewalk a short distance away from the crowd, which mainly consisted of the local residents, alongside a news crew from the 'Raccoon 24' news show, and a pair of R.P.D officers, who were stood on the opposite side of the police tape, trying to keep the crowd back. The two new arrivals stepped out of the cruiser, slamming the doors shut, the sound alerting the news crew to the presence of more people to ask for a comment. As they walked up to tape, a female reporter approached them, a microphone in her hand and a news camera behind her.
"Excuse me, can either of you-"
"No comment," said Jeff curtly, holding a hand up as he and Lenny pushed past, stepping under the tape and nodding at the other two officers on duty. The reporter managed to look insulted as the two officers approached the open front door and stepped through, after taking a few seconds to accept and don some protective foot sheaths from one of the forensic officers standing just inside the doorway.
Inside, the home was typical of many of the homes in this part of the town: not expensive looking, but just serviceable enough for a family to live in. In the hallway, there were signs of a struggle: a lampshade on a nearby table had been knocked over, and one of the pictures on the wall, depicting a happy family, was smashed and lying on the floor. But Lenny took more notice of the bloody, uneven footprints on the grey carpet, leading from where he was currently stood towards the far end of the hall, into the kitchen. The wall was marked with bloody handprints as well. He swallowed slightly when the nauseating smell of blood trailed into his nostrils.
"Oh Jesus…what happened here?" asked Jeff, sounding shaken.
Lenny heard movement from upstairs, and turned to see a forensics officer, clad in full protective body glove to avoid any contamination of the scene, moving down the stairs and running outside, a hand clutched over his mouth. He exited the house, and the sound of him retching up his guts was heard.
"You should really stay down here," said a young voice, as another forensics officer suddenly stepped into view from the kitchen area. "It's a total mess upstairs. Someone killed the girls in their sleep…poor kids."
The image that flashed through Lenny's mind at that point made his blood boil. Killing adults was bad enough, but to kill a defenceless child while they slept? People capable of that needed to be dragged out into the street and shot in the head as far as he was concerned.
"Jesus," muttered Jeff.
"But anyway," said the forensics officer, offering his hand to shake, "I'm CSI Darwin, James Darwin. You must be Lenny and Jeff, is that correct?" He looked young, maybe in his early twenties, with thin-frame spectacles balanced on his nose, sandy-blonde hair and a thing frame: he was at least 3 inches short than Lenny was.
"That's correct," nodded Jeff, shaking James' hand. "We're your back-up for today…if you still need back-up, that is."
"Well I'm honoured you came along," smiled James, as he then shook Lenny's hand, "it's just a case of making sense of all of this, same as the other murders…"
"A bloody mess?" asked Jeff, as yet another forensics officer walked by.
"You could say that," nodded James grimly. "From what we can deduct, it looks like the husband was killed out in the back garden, maybe when he went out to see if there was an intruder…there's definitely evidence of there being a scuffle out there." After that, he turned and lead the way into the small living room, a TV in the far corner, a moderate-sized table in the middle of the carpet, and on the couch at the opposite end of the room, there was an obscured form, underneath a white sheet. Lenny could see the trace of a person's foot that poked out from underneath the sheet were it hung over the ground. Blood stained everything in the immediate vicinity.
"And then we found the wife here…where she died," continued James, indicating the sheet-covered form. "We reckon she was attacked by at least two assailants- there's defensive wounds on her arms, but otherwise she didn't stand a chance. And then after that, they went upstairs and…killed the daughters."
Curiously, Lenny gripped one of the sheet corners, and slowly raised it up, so he could take a look at the wife's face-
He quickly dropped it again, stepping back and covering his face in disgust. "Was she-?"
"Yes, she was still alive when this happened," replied James grimly. "She was eaten alive by another human being."
"Who the hell could do this to someone?" asked Jeff, shaking his head in disgust. It was the same question everyone had been asking ever since the original murders had taken place.
"The very worst kind," replied James without pause, almost as though he were expecting that question. "One thing I've learned in this job is that mankind can commit all kinds of horrific deeds upon his fellow man: but the people who did this are some other kind of evil…like something inhuman."
"You can't be serious man," scoffed Jeff, shaking his head. "The people who did this are some messed-up cannibal freaks, simple as that."
Lenny paid little attention to the current conversation, as he walked into the kitchen, looking around the sheer white tiled walls and floor, now marked with deep red streaks. He stared at the bloody footprints that lead from the open back door and into the lounge, past his own feet. The footprints were uneven, a mess. He could probably make out two pairs of feet at least, one of them wearing shoes, and the other being barefoot. The tracks seemed to lead into the kitchen, and then back out as well, which showed that they probably came and went via the back garden, as James had mentioned to them before. Glancing out of the window, he saw another pair of forensic officers searching through the garden, another white sheet covering the dead form of Peter Faulkner lying in the middle of the lawn.
"I'm going to take a look outside Jeff," he announced, stepping through the back door.
"Don't go too far," called Jeff back, still talking with James and taking notes down on a small notepad.
The backyard was surprisingly well-kept for an inner-city garden, with a few scattered child's toys here and there, a stark reminder of who used to live here, stolen away by the sheer wickedness in the world. He stared at the covered body a few moments, noting the exposed arm that was poking out of the side closest to him. An obscene amount of blood coated the skin, and the back of the hand had been torn into pretty badly by human teeth- a blood mess, in short. One of the forensic personnel noted this, and quickly pulled the sheet over the exposed limb.
Lenny glanced around again, noticing the red smears on the lawn, leading from the large gap in the fence at the far end of the garden area towards the open kitchen door. The stains seemed to suggest that someone or something was dragged towards the back door, rather than the more traditional method of just walking. Was someone wounded when they came here? It could have been the father trying to get back inside after being initially attacked, but his body was in the wrong position to suggest that. What kind of murderer dragged their feet when going in for the kill?
He walked up to the covered body, nodding at the forensics guys as they glanced up at him. "So is this the father then?" he asked, though the answer seemed obvious.
"That's right," nodded the first one. "Or rather, what's left of him."
"They made a right mess of him," said the second one, as he took a few pictures of the bloodstains around the body. "Witnesses said they heard him screaming like he was on fire."
"But did anyone see who did this?" asked Lenny, taking some more notes down.
"One witness says they saw a pair of men walking through the fence into that alleyway," said the second officer, pointing towards the large gap in the fence not too far away from them. "He shouted after them but they just ignored him. No-one else saw them, and they were long gone by the time the emergency services got here."
"Allright, thanks guys," nodded Lenny, walking over to the fence. The wire had been torn open with sheer brute force, by the looks of it, and the perimeter of the tear was covered in thick globules of what looked like blood, the faint trace of copper still in the air.
"Coagulated blood," said one of the forensic guys behind Lenny all of a sudden. "Left behind by one of the attackers I presume."
"But doesn't blood only coagulate when you die?" asked Lenny, confused.
"That's correct," nodded the other guy, "so maybe it's from a previous victim. But we've already sent samples back to our lab to do an analysis of all the blood samples we've found in the house."
"That's good," nodded Lenny, standing up. "Could you get me and my partner a copy of the results when that's all done, so we can do a complete report?"
"Yeah, of course," nodded the forensic officer.
"Thanks again," nodded Lenny, making his way back to the house, still jotting down on the pad.
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Jeff slammed the door of the cruiser shut, pulling on his seat belt as well.
"Geez, what a mess," he sighed, looking over the notes he had made. He'd been into the kid's bedroom, seen what those bastards had done to them…it made him want to throw up. He was glad Lenny didn't see that, especially since he was the one with a family himself. No-one deserved to see anything like that in their lifetime.
"You can say that again," replied Lenny, pulling his own seat belt on. "The forensics guys are going to forward us a copy of the blood results once they're finished on this case…they believe the killers left something behind."
"Well at least that's something good," replied Jeff, rubbing his tired eyes. "Come on, I could murder a cup of black coffee right about now."
"Sounds good," smiled Lenny as he turned the key, firing up the engine.
"Excuse me, sir?" said a tiny, timid voice from somewhere nearby. Jeff turned his head to see a young girl, about 8 years old, her blonde hair in pigtails, standing on the sidewalk just next to them. "Did you find out who hurt Charlotte and Katie?"
Oh God, thought Lenny, his heart breaking.
"It's just that they were good friends of mine," the girl continued, her head lowered shyly. "So now I don't know who I can play with now…"
"Don't worry sweetheart," smiled Jeff, giving his most charming smile. "We'll find who did this, promise."
"But my daddy says we can't rely on you anymore," the girl then added. "He says the police should stick to eating doughnuts."
Jeff's face crumbled, and he glanced at his partner, his expression crestfallen. This was exactly that they'd talked about before. Chief Irons wasn't being assertive enough, and now the people were losing faith in their own police force.
"Hey, you tell your dad that we'll find the people that hurt your friends, allright?" Jeff then said, turning back to the young girl and smiling again. "We'll make sure they don't hurt anyone else, OK?"
"That would be nice," the girl smiled. "Thank you, Mr police officer."
"Hey, just call me Jeff, OK?" laughed Jeff back in response. "What's your name?"
"It's Annie," giggled the girl back, trying to hide a shy smile. "Thank you so much, Mr Jeff."
"It's allright Annie," smiled Jeff again, "it's my job to help. But I need to go now Annie. You take care now, you hear?"
"I will," she giggled back. "Bye-bye Mr Jeff." She waved at him, still smiling, as Lenny pulled away from the kerb, still grinning at his partner's antics.
"I don't know why you keep telling me otherwise, but you'd make a great dad," smiled Lenny, as they turned back onto one of the main city roads.
"Hey, you think I've got time to settle down with someone nowadays?" asked Jeff jokingly. "I prefer a bachelor lifestyle myself."
"Well I found time to settle down with someone," replied Lenny.
"Oh, well good for you," replied Jeff in a jokey, high-pitched voice, causing Lenny to laugh out loud, taking his eyes off the road for a couple of seconds. Suddenly, Jeff lurched forward, his eyes wide.
"LENNY LOOK OUT!"
There was a loud shriek as Lenny slammed on the breaks of the cruiser, narrowly avoiding running down a homeless bum who happened to be crossing the street before them. The man, a ragged mess with a long beard and wearing an old army jacket, just slowly turned to look at them, as if only registering them now.
"What the hell's wrong with you?!" yelled Jeff, leaning out the window and shaking his hand at the bum, who seemed to be miles away. "Didn't your mother teach you to look both ways before crossing the street?!" The bum didn't reply, he just took a few more steps off to the side, out of the cruiser's path.
"Thank you!" yelled Jeff, as Lenny put his foot down and the cruiser sped away down the street again, turning a corner and disappearing from view.
The bum took several more steps onto the sidewalk, his gait unsteady, and he had to stop and lean against the wall to catch his breath, even though he'd only walked about one block in the last 5 minutes. He coughed, harshly, and a spot of blood came up with his phlegm. He stared at the red spot on the pavement for a couple of seconds, thinking that it was strange he didn't have the usual hankering for alcohol he normally developed around this time.
All he could think of now was how hungry he felt…
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Some hours later, Lenny was stood outside the door into Chief Irons' office. Downstairs, Jeff was finishing off the report for the Faulkner murder case, so he'd come up here to see if he could do his good deed for the day, for the sake of the whole precinct. It wouldn't be easy though: he'd dealt with the Chief a couple of times before, and each time wasn't a very pleasant experience. His fist faltered in the air just away from the wood a few seconds, but then he finally made his decision and rapped on the wood loudly.
"Come in," came the chief's muffled voice after a few seconds, and Lenny pushed through into the Chief's office.
It was a small but well-furnished room, with a fine Persian rug on the ground, expensive leather chairs around a small coffee table, and a huge oak desk at the far side of the room, before another dubious work of 'art' that hung on the wall behind it. The wall to the right of the desk was taken up with a number of stuffed animal heads and other posed animals, including a hawk perched atop of a branch, ready to strike. Taxidermy was one of the chief's old hobbies, and in fact he had a storage room full of other posed trophies for that old hobby: Lenny had to admit that he was impressed when he saw the magnificent stuffed tiger kept in the room near to the chief's office. But still, the glassy eyes of the stuffed animals filled him with some amount of unease.
Chief Brian Irons himself was sat at his desk, filling out another mountain of paperwork, not looking up at all yet. He was a podgy man in his mid forties, a stiff moustache on his upper lip, the official police uniform he was wearing a little too small for his girth. He had been a decorated member of the police force, ever since he started out on the bottom rung of the ladder, working his way up to chief, though Lenny had only heard of these great deeds from the older officers and from what he read in the old newspaper stories in the archive room. Several of his commendations littered the office as well.
Though of course, the unpleasant individual Lenny had come to know in the last few years didn't seem like some great protector of the peace. His temper was notoriously short, some even said he were unhinged. There was even a rumour flying about that he was accused of rape during his time at university, but of course, there was no concrete evidence of that either.
The chief finally looked up, and seemed to relax when he saw Lenny standing there. "Ah, officer Bristol, how can I help you today?"
"Well sir, it's just-"
"And don't keep me too long," the chief then added, controlled tension in his tone, his hands clasped on the desk before him. "I do have other duties to attend to." He smiled after that, the way a lion might smile before it devoured its next meal. From what the chief's secretary had told him, he'd just come from a press meeting (and about time too), and it hadn't exactly left him in the best mood either: press conferences didn't.
Lenny considered his choice of words before continuing. "Well chief, I just came from the Faulkner home-"
"Ah yes, such a damned shame, what happened to that family," the chief interrupted suddenly, but his tone sounded…false almost?
"-well yes, but it seems as though the people are losing faith in us, Chief."
"Well whatever do you mean by that?" asked the Chief, laughing. The laughter got Lenny as well…it sounded forced, or maybe it had a touch of insanity in it. Lenny was starting to feel uneasy just standing there now, but he continued again. He was already standing in the room, might as well go the whole hog.
"They think we're not doing enough to stop these murders," he explained. "That we're incompetent, we can't be relied on to do anything useful."
"So what is it you're trying to say, Bristol?"
"I'm not telling you how to do your job, Chief-"
"Good," snapped Irons suddenly, his tone a lot more hostile.
"-but some of us feel as though you're not doing enough about these murders to convince the people that it's safe to walk the streets at night. Some of us are dead on our feet trying to keep things controlled." Lenny took a breath as he finished his statement. There was no taking it back now.
Irons continued to stare at him for a few more seconds, before his face broke out into a smile. "While your concern is admirable Officer Bristol, I can assure you that I'm doing all that is in my power to tackle this threat head-on," he then said, in careful, measures tones. "This is an unusual case, granted, but I won't allow any more deaths to happen in this fair city, not on my watch."
"That's all well and good sir," replied Lenny, "but the press conference you just held, some have said you should have been doing those conferences every other day, and to be fair, I'm inclined to agree with them." Irons just continued to stare up at Lenny, rolling his tongue around inside his mouth.
"With all due respect Officer Bristol, you should worry about your own prescribed duties."
"With all due respect, Chief," replied Lenny, a little more firm, "but this affects every one of us. And I don't want to just stand by while the people of this city think we can't do our job properly-"
Irons suddenly rose to his feet, slamming his fists on the desk top, the sudden sound and movement causing Lenny to jump in surprise.
"I SAID FUCKING LEAVE IT BRISTOL!" Chief Irons roared, spittle flying onto the front of Lenny's shirt, who opened his mouth to say something else, but was silenced when Irons stabbed a finger at him, continuing his tirade.
"You're a good officer and a fine character Lenny, I'll give you that," he said, the anger in his tone clear. "But if you don't mind your own business, I'll have you marched out of this force so fast your feet won't even touch the ground!"
"What, even a decorated hero like myself?" asked Lenny, his calm composure lost now after the chief had just screamed at him. "The rest of the force wouldn't stand for it."
"The rest of the force can go to hell, as far as I'm concerned!" yelled Irons, unrepentant. "This is my force, my precinct! I the am chief of police, not you or anyone else, and I'll do as I wish!"
Lenny just stared as the chief continued to scream at him. Behaviour like this wasn't unusual with Brian Irons, but threatening to have him marched out the force, that was an al-new ball game. The stress of the whole cannibal murders situation must have really been getting to him.
"You're as bad as Redfield and the others," he then growled, sitting back down. He was referring to Chris Redfield, point man with the elite S.T.A.R.S team of the R.P.D…until they had been disbanded after the fiasco back in July.
Following the initial wake of cannibal murders, the S.T.A.R.S were deployed to investigate the Arklay forest region, and of the 12 initial members of the entire team, only 5 of them had returned alive. And with them they bought wild, outlandish tales of flesh-eating monsters that were lurking in the forest, stories of all kinds of horrendous monsters, and accusations that Umbrella Inc were the ones behind it all. But of course, there was no evidence to back up their wild claims, and they became the laughing stock of the station. Lenny and Jeff had even joined in with the jokes, but now he felt kind of bad for what had happened. The S.T.A.R.S had tried to run their own inquiries into Umbrella, but Chief Irons had stonewalled their enquiries, and in the end he had disbanded them and had them suspended from duty, indefinitely. In other words, he just washed his hands of them.
"What, are you still here?" asked Irons suddenly, getting Lenny's attention. "Get the hell out of my sight!"
"With pleasure," muttered Lenny under his breath, leaving through the door behind him.
He had barely left when Brian Irons dropped his pen onto the table and sighed in annoyance, running a hand through what hair he had left. Even his own officers were starting to doubt his methods.
But it won't matter for much longer…soon they'll all be dead.
He knew fine well what these cannibal murders were: it was the cause of Umbrella, it was all their fault. He had done so much for them over the last 5 years, and this was how they repaid his unwavering loyalty? They initiated this 'biohazard', his contact had referred to it as, and then left him and his officers to pick up the pieces.
Those callous bastards…they said they offer him power beyond his wildest dreams: the seat of the mayor of Raccoon City itself. And now all those dreams were dashed before him.
He opened the top drawer of his desk, withdrawing the large calibre handgun he kept stored there. Things might have looked desperate for all involved, but if things were going to turn out that way, he could at least afford himself some fun while he was at it. He stroked his moustache thoughtfully.
If I have to die…then I'll take everyone else with me!
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"Asshole!" growled Lenny, dropping into his seat in the East Office.
"Who?" asked Jeff, looking up from his finalised report.
"That fat prick Irons, that's who!" snapped Lenny back, still annoyed after his little encounter with his boss.
"I take it your little chat with him didn't go too well then?" said Jeff, putting the report to the side.
"He threatened to have me drummed off the force!" replied Lenny, shaking his head. "Just because I was trying to give him an idea of what the mood was with the public, trying to be helpful…the rod up his ass must be a mile wide!"
"You can say that again," laughed Fred, the officer sat at the desk just next to them. The jokes about Chief Irons could be written on a list a mile long.
"Irons was never the best man at taking suggestions," added Jeff, smiling slightly. "You tried at least, do don't feel too discouraged, allright?"
"Easy for you to say," muttered Lenny. "He must have really gotten out the wrong side of bed this morning." Then he looked at his desk and picked up a brown file with 'Faulkner Family Case' written on the small tab on the side of it. "This is my copy of the report?" he then asked.
"That's right," answered Jeff. "Just need to wait for forensics to finish their blood report, and then we're all set. Speaking of which-"
They both glanced up to see that forensics officer from the Faulkner place, James, approaching them, a file in his hand. He looked rather out of place when not wearing his full-body glove, thought Lenny.
"Here, I got you your blood report," he said, dropping two copies of a file onto the desk, one for Jeff and one for Lenny. "I think you'd agree that the results are rather interesting."
"And why's that?" asked Jeff, glancing over his copy. As far as he was concerned, all this forensic talk was double-dutch to him.
"Because some of the blood samples we found were from known previous victims of this cannibal cult," explained James, "and something else too…"
"What's that?" asked Lenny.
"One of the blood samples belonged to a one Roger Smith, one of the suspects for the case, I presume?"
"That's correct," nodded Lenny. "We've found his blood at nearly every crime scene involving a cannibal murder."
"Well, the thing is," added James, sounding somewhat guilty as he spoke, "the blood sample for him that we found was coagulated…which only happens when a person dies."
"Seriously?" asked Jeff, sitting up. "How can a dead guy keep walking around and commit these murders?"
"Beats me," shrugged Lenny. "All I know is, this man is the only solid lead we've got for this case at the moment. Maybe someone killed him and they're trying to set him up, or he really is a dead man walking."
"That's impossible man," scoffed Jeff, shaking his head.
"There's a first time for everything," added James from out of the blue, but the look he got from the pair of officers made him stop. "But anyway, I'm needed back at the lab, so if you'll excuse me guys…"
"Yeah sure, don't let us hold you," said Jeff, waving his hand absent-mindedly, and the forensics officer turned and walked out of the room, as Lenny pinned his copy of the blood results in with the overall case report, making sure it was all in good order. "So then doctor," added Jeff, joking about, "what's your diagnosis of this whole case?"
"Some fucked-up people in this world," was all Lenny said, shaking his head sadly. "Excuse me, I need to get this to Marvin," he then said, getting to his feet and leaving the office the same way James had just done previously.
As he walked the east wing corridor and out into the main hall, some things were still running through his mind. Their suspect had been at this murder scene, in some form or the other: his blood was there, but it was in coagulated form, so how could a dead man walk around and commit murders? Unless someone had taken him, killed him, and had then started to use his blood as an effort to throw a spanner into the investigation…when they had searched Smith's apartment, it had been ransacked, showing clear signs of a struggle, so maybe he was taken to be used as a scapegoat.
But the only way to know that for sure was to find Roger Smith himself…and that was the second part of the problem, since he had no family in Raccoon City, and few friends that knew his schedule well enough to give them an idea of where he was.
Lenny sighed as he crossed the marble floor of the main hall. There was still quite a few hours left in this day.
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Some hours later, Lenny Bristol stepped through his front door, letting it close behind him. He sighed deeply and ran his hands through his hair. Right about now, it was only 6 in the afternoon, but his bed seemed really tempting right about now.
"Honey? Is that you?" called Anna's voice from out of sight.
"Yeah, it's me," he replied weakly, stepping through into the living room. His wife was already sat on the couch, the TV playing the dinner time news. She was still wearing her white doctor's coat, looking exhausted, as Sasha lay at her feet, sleeping contently.
"Hey there," she said, with a weak smile, as he moved over and sat down beside her. "How was your day?"
"Long," he said, rubbing his eyes, "and hard…I was at the Faulkner home this morning. Her face darkened.
"You mean-?"
"Yes, the most recent murder site," he nodded. "Trust me Anna, it was heartbreaking. Those poor girls…whoever did that to them doesn't deserve a fair trial. They need to be strung up by the neck."
"Which is why you're going to find whoever did this, and you'll make sure they get what they deserve," she replied encouragingly, holding his arm carefully.
"Well it feels like it won't matter either way," he replied glumly, shaking his head. There was silence for a few seconds, aside from the background noise of the TV set, so he broke it instead. "How's our boy doing?"
"Exhausted," replied Anna, smiling. "He's in bed now…didn't even get to hear one of his father's bedtime tales."
"Oh dear, we can't have that now can we?" he smiled, feeling somewhat better after the current day's events. "I'll have to make that up for him tomorrow…two tales for the price of one."
"You spoil that boy for sure," laughed Anna back, holding his hand tightly, and then noticing a story on the TV. "Hey, is that what you were talking about before?"
He glanced up to see the current story on the screen reading 'Murder death toll rises to 12', and an exterior view of the Faulkner household, the crowd of civilians gathered outside of it, held back by the police tape and officers, the same ones that Lenny and Jeff had passed by on their previous visit there, just as a voiceover was heard.
"Another happy family was torn apart today, as Peter Faulkner and his family were found brutally murdered at their home on Birch Road, the latest in the long line of horrific cannibal murders that have plagued Raccoon County for some months now, and show no sign of stopping," announced the voiceover. "And Raccoon City's finest are still remaining tight-lipped on any progress in the overall case…"
The screen changed to show a very familiar scene: a pair of R.P.D officers getting out of their cruiser and approaching the camera.
"Excuse, can either of you-" started the reporter but he was cut off by one of the officers, a short red-headed man with a toothpick clenched between his teeth.
"No comment," he said harshly, putting his hand up in front of the camera lens.
"Oh, who's that handsome guy there?" asked Anna suddenly, pointing towards the dark-haired officer who was ignoring the camera for the most part as he walked up the garden path. Lenny groaned and rubbed his face.
"I never was any good on TV," he muttered sheepishly, causing his wife to laugh at his misfortune.
"Don't worry, you'll always be my star," she teased.
"Well that's comforting," he said with a sarcastic laugh.
"Earlier today, Chief of Police Brian Irons issued a statement to the press from outside the R.P.D precinct building, calling for the public to remain calm during these turbulent times," the voiceover then said, and the scene cut to the view of the yard outside the R.P.D building.
Chief Irons, wearing his official police uniform, stood behind a wooden podium loaded with numerous microphones of the various news stations in the city, as flashbulbs went off all around him. He was flanked by two more officers in official uniform, who Lenny recognised as Marvin Branagh and Sergeant Neil Carlsen.
Lenny scowled when he saw Irons' smug face. That incident in the Chief's office was still fresh in the back of his mind. Sasha seemed to pick up on her master's bad mood, and sat up, growling at the screen in a low manner.
"People of Raccoon City," the chief said suddenly, raising his arms either side of him. "I know you are all on edge due to the increasing number of attacks within the city, but I assure you, the officers of the Raccoon Police Department, and our SWAT operatives are working around the clock to make sure that you are all able to sleep safe in your beds at night."
The Chief took a breath and wiped his brow free of sweat before he continued.
"But for the sake of your own personal safety, I urge you all to remain in your homes at night, and not to linger in dark areas of the city. We are being attacked from within, and we shall not allow our foe to best us." Lenny wanted to laugh out loud hearing this 'statement'. The Chief needed to hire a better scriptwriter.
"Your Chief certainly has a way with words," said Anna, not noticing her husband's displease.
"That is all, thank you," said Chief Irons suddenly, preparing to step down from the podium. "Once more I urge you to remain strong during this turbulent time, thank you!" And with that, he stepped down and walked away, as the flashbulbs went off in a more intense fashion.
Lenny clicked the TV set off, shaking his head. "He should have been doing statements like that since this whole mess began…why the hell has he been dragging his heels lately?"
"You sound as though you could be chief," said Anna suddenly, getting his attention.
"I'm not the only one who feels that way, trust me," he replied, shaking his head. "He didn't take my advice very well today…told me to mind my own business, but this affects all of us, so it is my business."
"What happened?" his wife asked, curiously.
"He told me very clearly to mind my own business," said Lenny calmly. "And then he said if I didn't he'd have me struck off the force. I seriously wanted to punch him on the nose, trust me."
"He said that?" asked Anna, surprised. "And you let him talk to you like that?"
"He's my boss, I didn't have a much of a choice," sighed Lenny. "He was always a dick, but he's gotten really bad lately…this whole mess must be stressing him out badly."
"Anyone would be stressed out, considering," she pointed out.
"I suppose," he replied, shaking his head. And then he perked up suddenly, turning to face her. "But enough about me. How was your day?"
"Don't ask," she replied, turning away from him. "We had two more people in with the same symptoms…"
"The symptoms?" he asked, knowing what she was talking about.
"Yes, all the same," she replied. "The nausea, the coughing fits, the constant scratching…it's just a matter of time until they're down in the morgue as well." Lenny frowned.
Lately the hospital had been experiencing a lot of patients experiencing a number of symptoms for some unusual affliction that none of the staff had been able to identify yet. Everyone that came down with this 'disease'- and disease seemed an apt word- would die sooner or later, depending on how strong their body was. Even the most physically fit patients would only last for about a week or so, before their bodies suddenly shut down unexpectedly.
"Hey, don't talk like that, you'll help them out, trust me," he said, putting an encouraging arm around her shoulders. "Just like all those other people you've saved, right?" He made eye contact with her and smiled, that goofy, almost-awkward smile she had fallen for all those years ago. She smiled back at him.
"Yeah…you're right," she replied. "We'll find a way to help them out…them and everyone else who's suffering."
"That's the spirit," he smiled, squeezing her hand encouragingly.
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Though unbeknownst to the Bristol clan and every other citizen of Raccoon City, things weren't going to get any better in the near future.
For the last 2 months, a deadly virus had been working its way into the city, as is spread from the sight of the initial outbreak encountered back in May time. Despite all the preventative measures put into place by the virus' creator, the inevitable couldn't be prevented.
Raccoon City's fate was already sealed.
A/N: And so Raccoon City's doom begins, unbeknownst to its poor civilians…
So this is a classic 'setting the scene' chapter, with a cameo from someone familiar for those who've read 'The Fall of Raccoon' at all. The next chapter will up things in the panic stakes considerably and also introduce a few of the other characters to feature in the story hopefully. But in the mean time, keep tuned for new updates, both from this story and from TFOR.
