I do not own any of the Resident Evil series or Albert Wesker(no matter how much I wish I could). I do own Rose Lillian Marshall and her brother Justin Marshall.
And NO! Rose is not a Mary-Sue!
It all started on a beautiful June day in Raccoon City. The year was 1996 and I was only eighteen years old, yet I was already a sergeant in the Raccoon City Police Department. It was my birthday that day and I was very happy that I had finally turned eighteen. I graduated from university early because of my outstanding performance in school. I was bumped up several grades when I was thirteen and I will admit that it was a big change for me, being among people who were at least four or five years older than me. I lived most of my life without my parents, them having died when I was only nine years old. But I suppose you are getting tired of hearing about my past. I should get on with my story.
The date was June 11, 1996 and I was sitting at my desk in the R.P.D. The clock on the wall read 7:54 A.M., quite an early start for me. Although I am the youngest cop in the department, I am also one of the most hard-working. My coworkers sometimes tease me about my age and also about the fact that my brother and I are wealthy. After our parents died, my brother and I left our estate and bought a house in Raccoon City. Money was not an issue to us. Both of us did not particularly care about money, so we locked our fortune away in the bank to let it grow and stay safe. I live with my brother for now, but I will buy a house of my own. Justin did create a fuss when I said this, but he understands.
I'm getting off track here. I was sitting at my desk at 7:54 in the morning having my usual French Vanilla coffee when this extremely well-dressed man waltzes into my office. He was a balding man with huge glasses and he was wearing a dull gray suit.
"Excuse me, ma'am? I'd like to report a homicide."
With those words, I pulled out a report paper and began filling it out.
"Your name please, sir?"
For a moment, the man hesitated and I looked up. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead and he wiped it away nervously.
"Michael Swift."
I jotted it down and underneath the heading marked OFFENSE, I wrote 'homicide'.
"Who is the victim?"
Another hesitation fell before he answered.
"I-it's a little girl. I believe her name is Natasha Wells."
Even though he was saying this, I was not writing. Something was terribly amiss about this man and I intended to find out.
"Mr. Swift, might I ask why you seem so nervous?"
He fidgeted with his cuff links, refusing to look me in the eye. It was then that I noticed his sleeves were stained with red.
"Sir, why d-"
I was unable to finish my sentence when he lunged at me, knocking me over in my chair. I yelled, his weight crushing me against the cold floor. Swift grabbed the combat knife that I keep in my tactical vest and aimed for my throat. I thanked God that I had fast reflexes as I grabbed his wrist before it came down. We wrestled there for a minute, me trying to keep him from slitting my throat. Just when it seemed that he would finally kill me, he was jerked off of me and thrown against the wall. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw who it was. Chris Redfield kneed the man in the stomach and as Swift went down, Chris held a gun to his head.
"Don't move, dirtbag," he said.
Chris fished a pair of handcuffs from his belt and clamped them around Swift's wrists before hitting him in the temple and knocking him out.
"Rose, you okay?" I nodded as Chris held out his hand and I grasped it, pulling myself onto my feet. The doors to the office burst open and in stormed Chief Irons. His face was purplish-red as he screamed.
"What in hell is going on here!? Redfield! Marshall! In my office! NOW!"
Chris and I exchanged confused glances with each other as we followed Irons out of the office, leaving Swift there unconscious on the floor. Once Chris and I were in Irons' office, he whirled on us.
"Okay, I just want to know what happened? I heard Sergeant Marshall yell," he said.
"Sir, some crazy man came in to report a homicide, but he attacked me," I began explaining, "Chris managed to come in the nick of time. If he had not gotten to me in time, I would probably be dead."
Irons' face was inscrutable. He seemed to be thinking for a moment, then he turned his back to us.
"If that is how it happened, then take this man and put him in a holding cell until we figure out what to do with him."
"Sir, if it's not too much trouble, I think that Mr. Swift might have killed someone. A young girl by the name of Natasha Wells," I said, remembering Swift's words.
Irons turned to me, his expression of shock. "Natasha Wells? She was reported missing nearly two days ago. She was last seen coming from her school and going off with some man."
"Yes, well I think he might have killed her," I said. Irons observed me for a moment before coming to a decision.
"Take me to this Mr. Swift. I have a few questions for him."
When we reached the office, Mr. Swift was coming around. He was uttering soft moans as I crouched down next to him.
"Mr. Swift, where is Natasha?"
The man chuckled maliciously as he spit in my face. Quite frankly I was offended as I wiped it away.
"Nowhere you can get to," he said. I jerked him up by his collar and made him look into my blazing blue eyes.
"Where is she!?" I yelled. That got a better response out of him as his expression changed from malice to one of fright.
"Sh-sh-she's in the trunk of my car. P-please don't hurt me!" he cried. I dropped him back rather harshly to the floor as I rushed out of the room and out into the parking lot of the station. So much for a quiet day. Chief Irons and Chris ran out after me as I unholstered my trusty Beretta and walked among the cars just in case Mr. Swift brought anyone else. I was pretty sure that the old beaten-up stationwagon was Swift's as I walked toward it. Just for the hell of it, I tried opening the trunk.
Locked. Not a problem for me. I simply aimed my gun at the lock and shot it out. I opened the trunk of the car and promptly turned away. The smell was terrible. Sure enough, the body of Natasha Wells lay inside. One thing I noticed was that only her throat was cut, but there was a small trickle of blood on her inner thigh. The bastard had raped the poor girl and she only looked about eleven years old! I saw red as I left the Chief and Chris to take the body. I was going to kill the bastard for what he had done. Chris seemed to guess my intent and came running after me.
"Rose, don't do it. There's nothing you can do for her now," he said, halting me in my tracks. I knew that there was nothing I could do for her, but it was just so unfair of what had happened to her. That little girl would never be able to go to high school, probably never have her own boyfriend. That brought the memory of me not ever having a boyfriend to mind. I was perfectly happy as a single person.
"I'm sorry Chris. I don't know what got into me. I guess just seeing her body made me go crazy," I said truthfully, accepting the hug that Chris offered. Chris was like a brother to me. He was always there for me, but he was a bit of a nut. He was also the world's biggest slob. I swear, I don't know how he finds anything in that work space of his.
"Redfield, Marshall..." Chris and I broke our embrace to find Chief Irons carrying Natasha's body, "Both of you take Mr. Swift to the holding cells. We'll interrogate him later. Afterwards, I want you two to report to me in my office."
I was the one to haul Swift up and throw him into the cell while Chris locked it. I chose to do it to exact the revenge for little Natasha.
"You're a sick bastard, Mr. Swift," I said as I walked with Chris out of the holding block. I walked through the doors to the parking garage and came face-to-face with a good friend, Jill Valentine.
"Rose, Chris, are you two okay? I heard what happened from the Chief," she said, taking my shoulder in a friendly gesture. I merely nodded my head and continued in the direction of the Chief's office with Chris and Jill in tow. I was curious as to what the Chief wanted from us. When I passed the offices of the other police officers, Jill came next to me and held out my combat knife.
"I believe you left this behind, my friend," she said as I took the knife and sheathed it in my vest, "It seems you're in for a good day, Rose."
I spared Jill a small smile as I walked out the back and up the metal stairs to the hallway where the Chief's office was. As I approached the Chief's office, my heart began skipping in anticipation of what would happen. My fingers curled around the doorknob and twisted it to open the door to find Chief Irons in his chair and a smartly dressed blonde man wearing sunglasses standing next to his chair. Why he was wearing sunglasses inside, I don't know. Maybe he was mentally challenged or something.
"Marshall, Redfield, Valentine. You will be the last ones," Irons said, his smile stretching from ear to ear. The three of us exchanged confused glances before I finally spoke up.
"Um, the last ones to what, Sir?" The blonde man was the one to answer my question.
"Miss Marshall, before I answer your question, I should introduce myself. Captain Albert Wesker." He came forward and shook my hand, his hand surprisingly cool. Wasn't a captain higher than a sergeant? Damn, I thought I would easily outrank him.
"Now for your earlier question, you will be the last to join the S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team. There will be two teams, Alpha and Bravo. Bravo has already been formed and they have at least seven members. I have three members, including myself, in Alpha Team. I will be the mission leader," the blonde man, actually I should call him Captain Wesker now, said.
"Hold on a minute. What is this S.T.A.R.S.? I've never heard of it," Chris said, scratching his head.
Captain Wesker smiled slightly. "S.T.A.R.S. was just recently formed to combat the growing rate of terrorism and cult-related crimes. We just now started recruited members and Chief Irons recommended you three for the jobs. For example..." Upon saying this, Captain Wesker turned his attention upon me. "You, Sergeant Marshall, have been recommended by the Chief for outstanding performance in holding the record for nearly 36 arrests in a month. You have good communications skills and you are an expert in weapons. The Chief also informed me that you are the youngest officer in the department at eighteen years old. It amazes me that someone so young could rise up so quickly in the ranks to become what you are. Oh, and happy birthday."
It shocked me that this man could know so much about me from the Chief and in a way, it made me feel a little proud about my accomplishments. I shyly tucked a few stray strands of my dark brown hair behind my ear and smiled at him.
"Thank you, sir," I muttered.
"Sergeant Marshall, would you consider joining S.T.A.R.S.?" Captain Wesker awaited my answer with calm dignity.
I considered it for a few moments before facing him. "Captain Wesker, I'd love to join S.T.A.R.S."
Captain Wesker nodded bluntly and issued the same question to Chris and Jill, receiving the same answer.
"Very well. As of now, you're all honorary S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team members. Sergeant Marshall, as per your skills, you will be our weapons and communications specialist. Mr. Redfield, you will be our pointman and marksman as per your skills. And last, but not least, Miss. Valentine. You will be our Rear Security as per your skills."
All three of us nodded our heads as Captain Wesker handed us our S.T.A.R.S. badges.
"I expect to see you all ready in the S.T.A.R.S. office first thing tomorrow morning," he said as he left the room.
I couldn't believe that I was now a member of the Special Tactics and Rescue Service. They were comprised of elite soldiers and/or officers with special skills in their field of expertise. I was rummaging through my desk cleaning out the supplies I had for tomorrow when I heard a knock at my door.
"Come in!" I hurriedly replied as I resumed my work. I heard the door opening and closing and the sound of footsteps approaching my desk.
"Having problems, Sergeant Marshall?" I froze when I heard the emotionless voice of Captain Wesker. I stood up and promptly hit my head on the drawer of my desk.
"Ow!" I fell back onto my bottom, clutching my head with one hand. Captain Wesker came around my desk and crouched down next to me.
"A little clumsy, are we?" he teased. I shot him my deadliest glare and scooted myself so that I could lean against the wall. I rested my head against the solid plaster and closed my eyes from the exhaustion that raged through me. I cracked one eye open at the clock on the wall, reading 5:29 P.M. I wouldn't be off duty until 6:30. I groaned and banged my head against the wall.
"Careful, dear. You could break the wall." I opened my eyes and stared down Captain Wesker. He sat next to me, his sunglasses still on his face.
"You know, I don't know why you wear those all the time. Take them off for once," I said, my frustration apparent in my tone. Captain Wesker chuckled and slipped the shades off his face, revealing eyes much like mine, only a lighter shade of blue. I smiled at him. "You should keep 'em off, Captain. You look a lot better."
"Do I?" It was a rhetorical question and I understood that I had just stroked his otherwise massive ego. Good going, Rose.
"Sergeant Marshall, if I may..." I cut him off with a finger held up.
"If we're going to be teammates, you may call me Rose," I said.
"Very well, you may call me Albert if you like. As I was saying, when do you go to the shooting range?" I glanced at him, puzzlement crossing my features.
"I go every Wednesday and Friday. Why do you ask?"
"Maybe you'd like to come with me to the range sometime. I'm there every Thursday," he said, glancing over at me. I smiled at him, feeling a blush rise on my cheeks.
"I'd like that, Captain."
Captain Wesker smiled a half-smile before donning his shades again and standing up. "I must go. I have a mountain of paperwork to attend to."
"Till then, Captain," I said, saluting him with two fingers. Captain Wesker left the room and I was alone once more. Did Captain Wesker just ask me out on a date? How old was he in the first place? He had to be at least twenty-eight. Now that's old! Now that I think about it, he was pretty handsome. He's too old though. I stood back up and flipped my desk inside out to clear the rest out and boxed it up. By the time that was over with, it was nearly 7:30, so I packed up and left the station.
As I approached my car, I noticed Chris lounging around the courtyard. I whistled at him and he approached, giving me a smile and clasping my forearm in our way of greeting each other.
"Hey Rose, how's about we go to Emmy's Diner tonight? I'm starving!" Chris said, his stomach audibly growling. I groaned inwardly. Chris can be a bit of a pig when he eats, but it's funny sometimes when he eats too much and I'm usually the one who has to drag him to the car because he's too full to walk. I did not waste a second. I grabbed Chris and dragged him to my car.
"Let's go to Emmy's, Chris. You can eat as much as you want."
Chris did a little victory dance as he opened the passenger side of the car and got in. I got behind the wheel and turned the keys in the ignition, the powerful engine roaring to life. On to Emmy's.
