The hot, afternoon sun beat down on the Raccoon Police Department parking lot, causing heat to rise from the blacktop in shimmering waves as the dark blue Mustang rolled to a stop in its reserved parking space. Chris Redfield killed the engine, cutting off John Fogerty's dry voice on the radio before exiting the vehicle and heading inside.

His boots squeaked on the polished tile floor as he entered the station's lobby, a massive and overly lavish chamber full of finely carved woodwork, dominated by a classical Greek-style marble fountain of a woman with a large vase over one shoulder. A few officers in their pale blue uniforms hung idly around the main desk as the lone secretary, a stocky guy named Costello, paged through a thick file folder. Chris returned a few greetings as he passed them and started into the maze of similarly ornate hallways leading up to the STARS office.

Chris wondered, and not for the first time, what the building had been before the RPD had been forced to expand and moved in. Not even a decade earlier, Raccoon City had been just another sleepy farming community nestled into Wisconsin's western uplands, and the RPD was a tiny outfit relying on the county Sheriff's Department for anything that required more tact than your average drunk driver. But then the Umbrella Corporation moved in. The massive pharmaceutical enterprise based out of Philadelphia built a large research plant on the east side of town, and suddenly there were new people and new businesses sprouting up all over the place. An unfortunate side effect to the rapid industrialization of Raccoon was a major spike in the crime rate, which meant the RPD had to increase its size to match. The STARS were a byproduct of this expansion and hired Chris on as their strategic coordinator shortly after his discharge from the Air Force a little over a year ago. Working not only with the RPD but also with the Sheriff's Department and the Stoneville and Arklay City police departments, the STARS managed to keep busy a fair bit of the time, with lost hikers making up the majority of their calls.

He passed Joe Frost, Alpha's lanky sniper and mechanic, who was stubbornly trying to insert a dollar bill into one of the station's vending machines to no avail. "Awe, come on! I just want a damn coke."

Chris chuckled. "Having a bit of trouble there?"

"Machine's broken again," Joe replied with a hint of frustration.

"Seriously? I thought we just got it fixed. C'mon, we're gonna be late."

Joe joined Chris on his way up to the office, asking in a hushed voice, "You hear about the murders?"

"What murders?"

"Yesterday. One of the Fish and Wildlife guys found three bodies in a campsite up in the foothills. Apparently it was pretty gruesome."

"More animal attacks?"

"See, that's the freaky part," Joe continued, in the tone he took when telling the conspiracy stories he had become known for around the office. "They thought so at first. But then the coroner gets the bright idea to check one of the bites that looks a little off. Turns out to be a match to a human bite pattern. So they check out the rest and sure enough, the campers had been eaten by cannibals."

"You're full of it."

"Nah man, I'm telling you the truth."

Chris shook his head in disbelief. "Where'd you hear that?"

"My buddy over at the hospital."

"Then why didn't I see anything in the paper this morning?"

"Even the press can't get news out that fast, maybe," Joe said with a shrug.

"Maybe. I still think it's BS. I mean, cannibals? What's next? Killer clowns? I think your friend has been watching a few too many horror movies."

"Stranger things have happened, Chris."

"I dunno…"

They entered the over-packed STARS office. Chris took a seat, moving a handful of paperwork off his keyboard and onto the clutter that was the rest of his desk, accidentally knocking a stack of floppy disks to the floor. Barry Burton, the team's weapon specialist and oldest member, peeked over the divider between their desks before going back to his work. "I don't get how you work with your desk like that," the large, red-bearded man teased in his Boston accent as Chris began to scoop up the disks.

"It's just how I like it – organized chaos."

"Uh huh. Organized. I'll believe it when you stop losing your reports."

"Hey," interrupted Jill Valentine, their EOD expert and Chris' partner on Alpha. "Did any of you guys see Wesker on your way in?" It was rather strange for him to be late, Chris thought – usually the Captain was unfailingly punctual.

Their computer expert and pilot, Brad Vickers, responded from his seat near the radio setup as he apathetically jotted down another answer on his crossword puzzle. "He had some sort of meeting with Chief Irons. Said he'd be back soon."

They didn't have to wait long. The usually stoic Captain looked even more grim than usual as he strode through the door, his lips pursed in a thin line and eyes narrowed. That had to mean bad news, realized everyone on Alpha Team, and Chris couldn't keep his thoughts from drifting back to what Joe had told him on the way to the office.

The Captain took his position behind his desk in the front of the room, but instead of sitting down, he clasped both hands behind his back and slowly began to pace back and forth. "Listen up. Some of you may have heard some rumors about yesterday's events. Two nights ago, three college students now identified as Lisa Cobrin, Oliver Mosley, and Shelly Lee were murdered in the foothills to the west, between here and Arklay City. They were found partially devoured in or near their campsite by Fish and Wildlife. Following the Sheriff's Department turning over the case to the RPD and the discovery of the third victim, Bravo Team was called out to assist in the gathering of any further evidence that may have indicated the current whereabouts or path of egress of the killers." He paused for a moment, scanning the members of Alpha.

Jill raised her hand tentatively. The Captain gestured for Jill to go ahead with her question. "Excuse me sir. Devoured?"

"That is correct. Whoever killed the victims appears to have partially eaten them, as determined by looking at the few identifiable bite patterns. The lab is working on further evidence, but it might be awhile before homicide gets anything back from them that may help them narrow down suspects."

Jill's eyebrows rose in astonishment, but she remained silent, having nothing else to ask.

The Captain continued. "As you can assume, the Chief wants this to stay relatively quiet for now as to avoid any panic. Hazardous wildlife warnings are being issued here in Raccoon as well as in Arklay City and Stoneville, and the murders are going to become public knowledge soon enough, but as is the usual there is to be no mention of cause of death or any other details unless otherwise instructed. The reason I asked the Chief to let me fill you in on this case is because of the unknown whereabouts or numbers of the killers, and the likelihood that if we are sent on any search and rescue operations in the near future we may encounter them or evidence left behind in their wake."

It was Barry's turn to ask a question. "Do we know if this is in any way connected to the people who were mauled to the north?"

"There isn't enough evidence to say for sure or not yet, but it's possible I suppose. For now they are being treated as two separate cases. Any other questions?" No one else raised a hand. "Alright. If no one has anything else pressing that we need to talk about, get down to the armory and grab your gear. We're headed to the range."

It had only been a week by the time Mitaki got the lab results back. She filled Carlsen and Ford in over the phone – most of it just served to corroborate what they already knew. The saliva found in the wounds was a mix of both human and canine, and the skin found under Lisa Cobrin's fingernails was in fact infected with gangrene as well as at least two types of mold. They had been able to isolate two different DNA profiles from the samples, but neither had turned up on the database. As far as Carlsen could tell, it was another dead end for now.

"Hey, at least we have DNA samples," Ford said, trying to be optimistic.

Carlsen took a sip of coffee, nearly scalding his lips in the process. "I suppose. I guess if we manage to find a suspect we can at least see if they're a match."

"But where are we going to find someone whose skin is rotting off of them? That just doesn't make sense."

Both detectives leaned back in their chairs, fruitlessly trying to make heads or tails of it all. Carlsen had a feeling that the skin samples were the key to their case, but they just had to figure out how it fit.

He absently watched the ceiling fan spin slow circles above them. They had pretty well ruled out anyone in town – it would be hard to miss anyone in that level of decay – so that left the Arklay Forest. The Forest Service hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary yet, but that didn't necessarily count for much. Ford had already gone to the Chief about the idea to send the STARS on a sweep of the trails and roads between Raccoon and Arklay City, but the Chief had refused, claiming that it was too much ground to cover at once and would ultimately be pointless until they could better narrow down where the suspects might be, assuming they were even staying stationary and hadn't just passed through.

The phone began to ring, startling Carlsen out of his thoughts. Ford snatched up the receiver.

"Homicide." There was a pause, and Ford's expression slowly hardened. "Where? Yeah… give us twenty. Bye."

Ford stood rapidly from his office chair. "Another murder like the three last week, this one at Victory Lake Park. Let's go."

That was all Carlsen needed to hear. They quickly walked to the parking garage and grabbed their squad car, making it to the park faster than they had anticipated. There were already a handful of officers on scene, watching to make sure no one crossed the yellow police tape strung up around a large, grassy section of the park between Woodbine Drive and the riverbank. Both an ambulance and Doctor Mitaki's van were already on site, and Carlsen could see her already at work. So far maybe two dozen bystanders had gathered but seemed to be mostly keeping their distance. That was good at least.

Ford groaned. "Ah, shit. That's exactly what we need."

"What?" Carlsen asked, trying to see whatever his partner had noticed. Ford just pointed. It took him a second, but then he saw the attractive blonde in a red pantsuit, glancing side to side before her eyes locked on their car. It was Alyssa Ashcroft, a reporter with the Raccoon Press known for relentlessly sticking her nose wherever it was least convenient for the RPD. She strutted rapidly towards them as they parked, a look of haughty determination across her face. "Oh great. Well, I guess the cat's gonna be out of the bag now."

They got out as she closed the distance, extracting a recorder from her pocket before their doors had even slammed shut.

"Detective Ford, Detective Carlsen," she began. "Good to see you."

"Wish I could say the same, Miss Ashcroft," Ford replied, barely bothering to mask his irritation as they headed for the crime scene, forcing her to change direction and catch up.

"Is that any way to talk to a lady? Look, I just want the scoop on what's happening here."

"You'll get it when the Chief decides you get to know."

She tried to protest, but Ford and Carlsen had already ducked under the tape and left her behind to stew. They had had to deal with her plenty of times, and had learned how to tune her out as they did their jobs.

A petite officer with short, red hair approached them and introduced herself as Officer Coogan before giving them the rundown. "Male victim, mid-fifties, found less than a half hour ago. One of his neighbors already ID'd him as Henry Kazinski, lived about three blocks from here. What little is left of the clothing seems to suggest he was out for a jog."

"Time of death?"

"The ME thinks about five this morning."

"Any footprints or anything that would indicate where the suspect or suspects might have gone?" asked Ford.

"The dirt is still pretty soft from the spring and we were able to follow a single set of tracks, but they dead end at the edge of the river. We haven't been able to find where, if anywhere, they pick back up on the other side."

Carlsen clenched his jaw as the familiar wave of putrid odors assaulted his nose. "Did anyone living in the neighborhood hear anything?"

Officer Coogan shook her head. "Not that we've found so far. There are still a couple officers going door to door, but they should be back any time now."

Ford and Carlsen thanked Officer Coogan as they reached Doctor Mitaki, and she split off to take care of her other duties.

Mitaki rose to greet them. "Looks like the same MO as our cannibals, though there's a lot more left of this guy."

It was true, Carlsen saw. Henry Kazinski had been disemboweled and most of the internal organs were gone, as well as a large portion of one of his legs, but the rest was relatively untouched. His blood-spattered face was forever frozen in a look of shock, his unseeing eyes staring blankly over at the uneasily mumbling crowd that continued to grow a person or two at a time.

As Mitaki continued to fill them in on what little she had been able to deduce thus far, two EMTs approached with a gurney, loading the body onto it and wheeling it back across the grass towards their waiting ambulance.

A loud crash woke Greg Brookings from his slumber. He lifted his head, blinking rapidly to try and make sense of the darkness around him. Something else clanged, like someone had knocked over an empty pot or something of that nature. It came from outside, in the direction of the edge of the logging camp. He delicately picked up his .357. Its bright nickel finish glinted just slightly in the faint bit of moonlight that glowed in through the trailer's windows.

A burglar maybe, or a bear? Greg thought as he quietly pulled the sheets back and swung his legs over the side of the mattress, fumbling around for the pair of pants he had left crumpled beside his bed. What if it's one of those maniacs that they've been talking about in the newspaper the past couple days who eat people?

He dismissed the thought as ridiculous. No, it was probably just some animal who had smelled the food in their garbage and was looking for a midnight snack. It wouldn't be the first time. Still, he supposed, it would be best to check it out anyway. The big man pulled the pants up around his waist and slid his feet into his boots before snagging a flashlight from near the trailer's door.

The thin, metal door swung open with a soft creak and Greg shut it behind him, careful not to make too much noise. The soft soil beneath his boots muffled his footsteps as he made his way toward the main building, containing the office and kitchen.

As the narrow beam of his flashlight swept across the off-white corrugated steel of the main building, he could hear a faint scuffling noise coming from behind the meager structure. Greg began to round the corner carefully, his grip tightening unintentionally on the revolver's grip. Taking a deep breath he quickly stepped sideways, bringing the rest of the back of the main building into the cone of his light. There was nothing there. I could've swore I heard-

Suddenly something slammed into him from behind and he screamed, only managing to squeeze off a single, un-aimed shot before a pair of powerful jaws crushed the vertebrae of his neck and began dragging his now limp form into the underbrush.

The other loggers, jolted awake by the thundering report, began to emerge from their trailers to find out what was going on. Confused and bleary eyed, they flicked on flashlights and began to search the camp. A logger named Benny noticed that Greg was missing and decided to check his trailer only to find him absent. It was one of the newer additions to their crew who finally found the trail of blood leading away from the office into the woods.