Lieutenant Charlotte Henderson sat at her desk filling out reports of the day's activity. It was late and the only staff on duty was the night crew with the exception of Captain Wesker who typed feverishly at his laptop. His desk was littered with papers. Reports, perhaps. Either way, he was so engrossed with his work that he hardly took notice when his radio picked up an incoming message.

"We need the assistance of all available units on 26th St.. We have a possible homicide. I repeat, all available units to 26th St." A shaken voice requested.

'It must be bad if he sounds that upset.' Henderson thought.

Reaching into the desk drawer she grabbed her berretta and small field medical kit. "Are we responding?" She asked as Wesker pushed himself away from the desk.

"I've got time. Might as well check things out." He said, pulling the straps of his Kevlar vest tight. "You're off the clock, Henderson. You can come if you want." Wesker didn't wait for a reply. Within seconds she was in hot pursuit of the Captain. This was her job and she wasn't about to be left out of the action- if there was any.

Leaving the precinct, the two descended into the parking garage. Wesker was just ahead of her, his pace was fast and she had to practically jog to keep up. Jumping into the passenger's seat the Lieutenant grabbed the mike.

"S.T.A.R.S. here, we're on our way. ETA five minutes." Releasing the button she listened for a reply. It was muffled but she swore she heard someone say, 'Why the hell are they coming?'

"Copy that S.T.A.R.S. We'll be waiting. Over."Starting the cruiser Wesker fished into his shirt pocket and pulled out his sunglasses.

"Is it necessary to wear those?" She asked as she flicked on the roof lights. "It's not particularly sunny this time of night."

"It's all about presentation, Lieutenant." Wesker didn't need to look at her to know that she was rolling her eyes. To him, the first impression was the most important. If people couldn't see your eyes, they couldn't see into your head. He preferred people being blind to his thoughts.

Up ahead they could see the flashing lights of at least four police vehicles. They were parked in front of a picturesque two-story home, a portion of the property was marked with yellow crime scene tape. Wesker killed the engine as they pulled in behind one of the cars. They had barely gotten clear of the sidewalk when they were approached by Officer Kevin Ryman of the R.P.D. Kevin had been a candidate for S.T.A.R.S. though Wesker hadn't felt he was right for the job. Instead he hired Richard Aiken, their new communications specialist. She was sure that Kevin still held a grudge against the Captain.

"What's the current situation, Officer Ryman?" Wesker said as he ducked under the police tape.

"Well," Kevin started as he held the tape up for Henderson, "We've got three bodies inside the residence. They've been dead for a few hours. A neighbor found them. We've got people searching around the premises for any dumped weapons or other clues as to who did this." He glanced over at Henderson. "They could use some help if you're up for it?"

"See to it, Lieutenant." Wesker ordered. Nodding, she left the two men to examine the remains inside the house.

Making her way across the freshly cut grass she passed out of the beam of the search light- leaving her to rely on her flashlight. It was a quiet night and the sky was pitch black. The stillness making her skin prickle with goose bumps. Shining the light into the trees she moved into the woods making her way through the thick underbrush until she emerged onto a beaten down path. It led from the house, across the yard and into the surrounding forest. It looked as thought it was recently traveled by the fresh footprints in the dirt. 'Footprints, they look more like drag marks. As though someone had injured their leg.' Unfastening her holster she slid the pistol out and flicked off the safety- she was moving forward now but with careful steps, keeping her eyes on the path ahead.

It wasn't long until she started to notice a blood trail. Just drops here and there, but it was a major piece of evidence in solving the case if they couldn't find the killer, and even then it would prove crucial in making a conviction. Stooping down she laid her flashlight on the ground then grabbed a swab from her medical kit. Taking a sample she placed the swab back into its protective case. As she stood she caught sight of a figure further up the path. She couldn't make out any facial details but it appeared the person was covered in something slick and wet. 'Like blood…'

"Sir, my name is Lieutenant Henderson. I'm with S.T.A.R.S. I'm here to help." Henderson took a few steps forward but was quick to stop when the figure turned towards her with a yearning moan escaping from its mutilated face. "Oh my God," she whispered. "I NEED HELP HERE!" she cried into her radio. Risking a glance behind her she saw the bouncing beams of multiple flashlights heading in her direction. Turning back to the figure she took a step backwards as it began to limp closer. "Sir, please don't come any closer." Her order went unheeded as he continued to approach, stretching his arms out to her. "We're going to get you medical attention, Sir, but you have to listen to me and stay where you are!" Still he made no response. As he came into the beam of her flashlight Henderson knew there was going to be no getting through to him as half of his face had clearly fallen away. 'Was he a murder victim that just refused to die?' When he was within reach he made a lunge forward. Henderson fired, point blank, into his chest sending him staggering backwards, but he wasn't down yet. Two, three shots. 'He's not stopping!' He seemed to be oblivious to his new wounds.

Trying in increase the distance between them she began to move backwards but kept her gun pointed towards him. It was a slow process, but if she ran she risked injuring herself in the dark. It was only a second later when something grabbed her and a gunshot rang out. Whirling around she instinctively made a fist and swung hitting her target square in the jaw- he grunted. Then, finding her footing she kneed him hard in the chest, sending him reeling backwards onto the ground. Spinning back to the injured man she found him lying across the path with a bullet hole between his eyes- or at least what was left of them.

Lights, everywhere, and voices- Officer Ryman's voice rising from the group.

"What's going on? Lieutenant, are you alright?"

"She's fine," Wesker grunted as he staggered to his feet. His gloved had massaging his bruised jaw.

"I'm fine, but there's someone over there," She said pointing towards the body.

"I don't see anyone there, Lieutenant."

"What!" she snapped. It was true though, the path was barren except for the 9mm shell casings from the bullets she spent- and the one Wesker had fired.

"I'll have some of the other officers search the area for them." That was that. Everyone dispersed leaving her and the Captain alone.

"Captain, I'd…" she said as she removed her cap but trailed off as she watched him walk away. "Captain!" calling as she followed him.

"What is it, Henderson?" His voice was cold, like always. It was as though she hadn't just 'set-him-back-on-his-ass.'

"Are you hurt?"

"No."

"Then why won't you look at me?" He stopped and turned to face her. She didn't think he'd actually listen. He never did. She also had to admit that he was right about the sunglasses. They were an effective tool for intimidation.

"Why?"

"Because I hurt you." He laughed and it sent a shiver down her spine. Wesker never laughed. That was something only happy people did, and Wesker was never happy.

"It will take more than that, I assure you." It had hurt, more then he thought it would, but he wasn't about to admit it. His ribs were sore and his jaw hurt like hell. 'She's tough, but what did you expect? You picked her yourself.'