A/N: First Resident Evil story so far, thanks to Lord Leachim for my love of , Lime Rickey for some interesting inspiration, Drew Skye for giving me the idea for Chris and Jill's relationship, x-Artichoke-x for giving me the idea of pre-RE1, dragonkeeper219 for constantly nagging me until I created a FanFiction account, and many others including S.D. Perry, Boss-Awesome, Special Agent FUNK, Supermodel Sandwich, and Project X. There are many more of you, especially those who REVIEW! So please, review, and I'll probably end up checking out some of your stuff too. Oh, and Capcom for an amazing game. Hope you enjoy!

Raccoon City, May 1998 (about 3 months prior to the mansion incident)

"Chris?"

Dark shapes ran at him, he was unarmed, they were going to kill him. He had no way to stop them.

"Chris."

The first one got to him, he could see it, see her now, it was Jill, and there was Kenneth. But it wasn't Jill, or Kenneth, or Enrico or Joseph. Jill's teeth sank deep into his shoulder.

"Chris, wake up."

Chris's head shot off his desk, his hand reaching for his Beretta as he looked Jill in the face. Her real face. He relaxed.

"You okay?"

Chris swallowed and nodded, noting the concern written on Jill's face. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a dream." But something told him it was more than just that.

Jill raised an eyebrow, but let it go. "C'mon, let's get out of here. The rest of the team left an hour ago, even Wesker went home." He looked around and realized it was true. Chris gave a lopsided grin.

"Late night dinner at Emmy's?"

"Only if you're driving." She smiled. Chris grabbed his Leather jacket from the back of his chair, leaving it spinning and forgetting the nightmare.

After the frustratingly long walk through elaborately decorated hallways and rooms, and two flights of stairs, they had made it to the garage and got into Chris' car. The dark blue '67 Mustang roared down Bybee, brown brick shops passing by as he accelerated towards the old diner.

"Isn't it twenty-five here?"

He just flashed Jill a smirk. "By the way, it's my turn to buy. Don't even try to argue." Jill gave him a mock annoyed glare. They pulled into the small parking lot and Chris killed the engine.

Emmy's Diner was its usual semi-busy, a few customers talking quietly in booths as one man chatted with a pink-polyester clad waitress, Julie. She waved at the two S.T.A.R.S. members. "Hey, our favorite two cops! I'll be with you in a sec."

"We definitely don't come here often enough," Chris muttered amusedly to Jill.

"Only every couple nights," she shot back. "If you could cook—"

"Hey, wait a minute, low blow!" His fake pout made Jill laugh. They took a booth. Julie strolled over and took their order.

After she had left, Jill asked, "You sure you don't need to talk about anything?"

Chris shrugged. "Just a freaky dream, probably that leftover pizza I had at lunch. Nothing to worry about I hope."

"Okay. But you know I'm here if you want to talk."

"Yeah, I know." His eyes shifted to the table as the dream replayed in his head. He was snapped out of his thoughts when their radios crackled, then they heard a woman, Rita, talking.

"This is Officer Hawkins to any nearby units. We have a one-eighty-seven on nineteen East Bettery. Requesting backup."

Chris grabbed the black, rectangular device from his belt. "This is Redfield, Valentine and I are on our way there. Hold tight."

They launched from their booth, motioned to Julie to hold their order, and charged out the door.

Nineteen East Bettery St. was only a couple minutes away, and they reached the crime scene in record time. Red and blue lights illuminated the gruesome scene.

Two bodies, or what was left of them, lay in the driveway, reduced to bone and tangles of red, sticky sinew. Tatters of cloth and pale flesh clung in patches to the bloody mess. One victim's near bare jaw hung open in a silent scream. Dark crimson dog prints led off into the yard and disappeared. Officers Rita Hawkins and Jim Silva stood nearby, hands on their sidearms. Yellow police tape surrounded the area.

"Christ, it happened again," Silva muttered to the approaching S.T.A.R.S. members. "Definitely canine bite patterns, not human like the first two times."

"First non-human attack in town. Shit that smells bad," Chris added.

"Smells like roadkill on a hot day," Jill noted as she wrinkled her nose. Rita just grimaced.

"Who are these two?" asked Chris, motioning at the corpses with a boot.

"Not sure. Gonna have to check dental records when they get to the morgue, not much else we can do." said Silva as he shook his head. It was brutal, insane.

A news van came quickly around the corner, parking behind Chris' Mustang. Jill glared. "Look who showed up. Chief Windbag probably isn't far behind." It was true, Chief of Police Brian Irons was definitely a media hog. And full of hot air. Also, somehow he seemed like he still hadn't thought to assign the S.T.A.R.S. to the cannibal murder case.

The reporter and camera crew leapt out and trotted over. Chris pulled out his badge and moved to block them.

"We're here from Raccoon Seven. We heard about two more killings that may be linked to the Victory Lake cannibal murders. Can you tell us what happened? Who are these two people?" The blonde reporter stared at him, impatiently expectant.

"I am not authorized to answer these or any other questions you may have at this time. Please direct any questions to Chief of Police Irons when he arrives, or wait for the detailed public report." Chris made it clear there was no way that anyone was getting past him, but the reporter tried anyway. Then she saw the corpses and turned pale.

"Oh my God…"

More news vehicles were arriving, and a third patrol car had come to help hold the curious reporters and journalists back. This was gonna be a long night.