July 27th, 1998
Raccoon City Police Station
3:36 PM

Kenny had the day off school, and decided to stay behind at the station today and get some work done –and gain some extra work experience hours. He'd only begun organizing the paper pile into smaller, easier to handle portions when Officer Marvin Branagh approached.

"Would you be able to take these up to the S.T.A.R.S. office for me?" He plopped a yellow box of fresh doughnuts on the desk, on top of the papers as he tore into a glazed doughnut already in his hand. Officer Branagh didn't wait for a response and continued on his way.

Kenny shrugged to himself and picked the box up. Officer Branagh was kind enough to provide the doughnuts, probably an attempt to save him a trip to the West Office, but there was no coffee, negating any favor Marvin was trying to do for him. Kenny dodged the bustling officers on his way down to the coffee brewers. There were two of them located on the grounds, each one industrial sized and brewing decaf and dark coffees. Mild was too weak for anyone who worked here. He emptied all the contents of both brewers into their respective jugs placed on an adjacent table when was met with groans of protest from the officers who noticed.

"We just brewed that pot! Can't you take the next batch?" Officer Carlsen called out.

"Sorry," Kenny apologized, "but it's for the S.T.A.R.S. I'll put another batch on right away."

"My doughnut's getting pretty dry and pasty in my mouth without any coffee!" Officer Edwards retorted in semi-jest.

Kenny couldn't help but smile at the officers' good-hearted jokes as he made my way out the rear exit of the West Office, balancing two coffee jugs and a box of doughnuts on a tray. He had a little help from some officers who held the doors open noticing his hands were full. This balancing act took some refining. During his first week, Kenny had spilled coffee all over the squeaky-clean floors and Gus the janitor had to be called up from his scrubbing down in the kennels a few times with the extra tasks.

The West Office led to the evidence room and spilled out into a hallway that led to the photo lab and the upper level. The S.T.A.R.S. Office was upstairs and did Kenny ever hate those stairs. He'd been running this route since he started working at the precinct with doughnut boxes and coffee pitchers in hand, and yet never got used to them. He hesitantly rested a foot on the bottom stairs and climbed the flight carefully, making sure not to throw the jugs off balance. This delicate act took a little under ten minutes and by the time he reached the top, by which he could feel his face flushed with the effort. But at least the doughnuts and coffee were still in one piece and not all over the floor. One less task for Gus that day, thank goodness.

Past the hallway with the creepy statue with the red gem in its hand on the left, and the locker rooms on the right, through the door at the opposite end of the hall, and Kenny was in the S.T.A.R.S. corridor. Their office would be just around the next corner. He could hear the members talking in hushed voices heading inside for some privacy. Fearing that they'd close the door on him before he got close enough for them to notice him, Kenny speed-walked towards them. He had reached the S.T.A.R.S. door with their very own emblem etched just above the keyhole, just in time to have it slammed in his face.

Kenny let out an exasperated sigh and looked around to find something to rest the tray on so he could free up his hands to knock. There was the dirty floor, and the window ledge just a few long steps behind him but that took too much effort. There was nothing suitable in reach so instead, he pulled my head back, squeezed his eyes shut and threw his skull forward, knocking three times on the door with his forehead.

It didn't take long for the door to open at all, as if someone had been standing right behind it.

"Go away," Officer Redfield said rather abruptly. "This is …" His aggression caught Kenny by surprise at first, because he'd never spoken to him in that kind of manner before. But then he lowered his gaze by about half a foot and noticed Kenny standing there, limbs aching with the weight of their treats.

"Sorry if I'm interrupting," Kenny said with as apologetically. "I brought you guys these." He held up the tray and coffee jugs like an offering and managed a weak, embarrassed smile.

Chris's expression softened. "Hey, Sport," he said, calling Kenny by one of his annoying nicknames. He was still dressed in his tuxedo from the service earlier this morning. Come to think of it, Kenny was still in his too. He made a mental note to remember to return the expensive tux to Amber, who said it was an old tuxedo belonging to her brother who had since outgrown it. The others present at the service had gone home to change. Kenny spotted Officer Redfield reaching out his hand … and it was going straight for Kenny's half-hour gel job. The intern tried to maneuver around it but didn't have the time to avoid Chris's devastating hair-do killer.

"Don't do that, Chris," he could hear Officer Valentine say from inside the office. The door opened further, revealing her standing behind Chris. Kenny gave a smile and made his way into the office, towards Jill's desk. "Thanks, Kenny. Could you put those on my desk for me, please? We'll sort them out in a minute."

"Is there anything else, Kenny?" Officer Redfield asked. It sounded like he was expecting something. "Mail or anything like that?"

Kenny's chin rested on the top of the doughnut boxes to keep in a neat vertical stack, and was unable to reply verbally to Officer Redfield, so he just shook his head in response. Officer Redfield's face fell a little but only for a brief moment. "Oh. Okay."

He scratched at the back of his head nervously as he figured out how to kick the intern out of the room politely. Kenny had figured he was walking into something important the way they'd closed the door to the office so quickly, to the way he was ready to give the intruder a piece of his mind for even daring to knock on the door.

"Uh, Kenny," he said in a more sympathetic tone, "we've got some important business to discuss." Kenny opened his mouth to comply but was immediately cut off as Chris continued. "You know … S.T.A.R.S. business. If you could let everyone know that we don't want to be disturbed for a while..."

Officer Redfield rambled on for a few long seconds and Kenny's mind started to wander a little. He was busy wondering what Amber was doing there in the room if this was a S.T.A.R.S. meeting. Was she just dropping by like him, or was she planning on sticking around for this "S.T.A.R.S." meeting? Or was he lying just to get Kenny out of the way? A simple request would've been fine if that were the case, instead of a sorry explanation he thought up of on the spot which …

"…can you do that for us? We'd be really grateful." Officer Redfield had finished talking and Kenny hadn't registered a word he said. Kenny just nodded blankly back in response.

"Great, you run along now, okay, Champ?" Officer Redfield place a hand on his shoulder and began ushering him gently to the door.

"Okay," the intern replied, then turned his attention to Officer Bernstein. Time to try and dig a little. Something fishy was going on in here amongst the S.T.A.R.S. members and he wondered if she was a part of it. "Officer Bernstein, would you like to come with me and get some coffee?"

"No thanks, Kenny," she replied without missing a beat. "I might be here a little while. I've got some stuff to take care of before I get back to work. Yeah, Jill and the others are going to help me go through Joseph's belongings. I think there's some stuff in there that his family might want to have returned. I figured I might as well get it over with sooner rather than later, so I don't have to disturb the others while they're working."

She had a point; wanting little privacy with your closest friends when your S.T.A.R.S. boyfriend just died didn't warrant suspicion. She would probably want to inquire about the nature of his death, and to the kind of experience the whole team went through on that fateful night. A part of Kenny wanted to know too, so he could confirm which rumors about the S.T.A.R.S. floating around the precinct were true and which could be dismissed.

Kenny looked at Chris and Jill, silently pleading with them to let him sit in on the meeting too, even though he knew it was none of his concern. Officer Redfield was all business now and had lost all joking pretenses in his expression. He made eye contact and gave a firm nod in the direction of the door. It would've been a bad idea to push any further so Kenny complied.

He had taken only one step out of the office when the door closed shut behind him, followed by a quick click of the lock. Kenny could hear scraping along the floor coming from inside the office, then the door handle rattled. They were putting a chair under the knob. They really wanted him out of there badly! What was it they were discussing that was so secretive? What happened to them on their rescue mission? How did half the S.T.A.R.S. team get wiped out and why were all the officers in the precinct accusing the S.T.A.R.S. of being on drugs?

And what was it Officer Redfield asked Kenny to do again?

Tea Room, Wilberforce Estate
Whitchley District
4:03 PM

Cranky stared at the wallet-sized family portrait he held in is hands, studying the features of the people present in them; a graying man with few but defined wrinkles on his face, his wife, a blonde woman sporting curled locks and and a pearl necklace, and a pair of strapping young men with full heads of brown hair that he assumed were the couple's children.

"It's the father," Lawrence Wilberforce clarified from the brass lined leather chair across the white marble table from him.

Cranky struggled to not roll his eyes. "I gathered." A brief moment of silence punctuated their conversation while Cranky flipped through the documents and information provided to him so far. "Dennis Lonsdale, founder of Lonsdale Construction, chair member of the board." He produced an impressed whistle. "And a son in the RPD, while the other …"

"A drug addict," Lawrence replied. "Black and white, the pair of offspring"

"Someone like this has got to be near untouchable," Cranky observed, "nothing would happen to him without the entire city finding out. And you want me to kill him?"

"No," Lawrence clarified, "I need something more subtle than murder. The Lonsdale corporation is reeling from the loss of the Ecliptic Express and I cannot have him lead the company into recovery. They have the potential to grow powerful enough to wrestle Raccoon City from Umbrella's grasp, and I can't let that happen."

Cranky looked up from documents at him. "Afraid of losing out on Umbrella's paychecks?"

"Heh," the lawyer snorted, "So you noticed – who runs this town, I mean."

"It's hardly a secret when their ads and products are plastered all over town. But where do you fit in?"

"I'm asking you to complete a task, not to ask questions," Lawrence said firmly.

"I have terms," Cranky insisted.

"I can only offer you Kenneth Feng." The lawyer watched the emotions play across Cranky's face as grin spread across his own face.

"H-how do you know …?" Cranky stuttered.

"I'm a lawyer, Mr. Crankurt; contracted by Umbrella. That's where I fit in. And that also means my resources are vast, and how I was able to learn a little bit more about you. Parents unknown, spent your childhood pickpocketing on the streets of Osaka, Japan. Pickpocketing evolved into a short-lived career as an amateur con-artist."

"I would've expected you to dig up more with your 'resources'," trying to regain the upper hand but it was starting to feel futile. He broke eye contact with Lawrence and gazed out the floor to ceiling windows of the room at an impressive rose garden that Mrs. Wilberforce's gardener was tending to.

Lawrence smirked and continued. "Had you tracked. Your appearance at La Boutique with Barbara Wade was curious at best; you were unknown to us before then. But then you show up with her at the Truman's soiree, a stranger suspiciously close to her for not even knowing you existed mere days prior. So you quickly became a subject of interest, but your motivations weren't clear. Another con-job would explain your presence in Uptown. But your eavesdropping on Irons' and Annette Birkin's confidential conversation didn't fit in so we dug further."

Cranky did not want the lawyer noticing the alarm that must have surely been manifesting on his face but it seemed that he had picked up on it. Lawrence leaned forward, lowering the volume with which he spoke, into a menacing whisper.

"You know who else hails from Osaka, Mr. Crankurt? Kenneth Aaron Feng; a friend of my daughter's, an undocumented and also with unknown parents. The parallels he shares with you are too striking to be a coincidence. In fact, Kenny's the only family you've got."

Uptown Raccoon City
Brentford District
5:17 PM

Kenny didn't get out of the precinct until around 5:00 pm that afternoon. It had been a hellish day of running around, filing reports, and catering to the needs of the police officers among other random tasks. The days usually went like that, but of course today was an especially depressing day given everyone's reflections on the most recently failed mission, the funeral service this morning serving as a grim reminder.

Kenny took the regular route home, more instinctively than consciously. He was finally beginning to settle into the hectic lifestyle of school and volunteering almost full time at the police station. He lived in newly built but small and cozy apartment; just one of many in the newly developed areas of Uptown. Downtown wasn't too far away, but anyone with half a brain knew to stay well away from the undesireables that prowled is streets.

And that was what confused him that afternoon when he spotted Jack Carpenter. He was the only kid from downtown to attend Raccoon City Secondary School while most of the his peer from that area went to St. Michael's Catholic High.

Jack appeared to have been on his way home; as he now lay bleeding on the pavement just a few meters ahead. Kenny didn't recognize his fallen form at first, but there was no mistaking that it was a person in need of help. There were a couple of pedestrians on the opposite side of the street and most probably mistook him for a drunkard. Technically they were in Uptown, but given the proximity to the lesser end of town, it wasn't surprising that a few bums would linger over in their intoxicated state.

As soon as he had spotted the blood on the pavement, Kenny made a run towards the body, hoping that it was still alive. As he neared, he recognized it as being Jack Carpente. Without taking his bag off his shoulders, he bent down to examine Jack, unsure of exactly what to do.

"Jack, are you okay?" Kenny asked, nudging him with the toe of his shoe, afraid of being seen with the likes of him. Jack's eyes fluttered open and looked at Kenny and widened immediately with fear.

"No more, man," he murmured, and then coughed up some clear spittle. "No more, please."

"It's me, Kenny. Whoever did this is gone. Which brings me to my next question." But then again, as much as he wanted to know who was responsible for beating the stuffing out of Jack, Kenny deided it might be a good idea to call an ambulance first.

Jack seemed to calm down a little when recognized Kenny's voice. He took a breath and talked. "It was your buddies," he explained, "Phil, and his crony Jamie."s

Phil?! What in the world would Phil be doing coming all the way down here just to beat somebody up? The answer to that would have to wait.

"I'm gonna call 911."

"No!" Jack protested strongly. He then proceeded to pick himself up off the ground with some physical effort. Kenny crouched again and helped him to his feet, slinging one of his arms over his shoulder.

"You're crazy," Kenny insisted, "The hospital folks can make you better pretty quick."

"No," he continued, "cause then they'll call my Auntie and she'll go all loco and I just dun wanna put her in that kinda situation. I appreciate your help, Kenny, but I know how much you an' your buddies hate me, so jus' do yourself a favor and get outta here, okay? I be okay on my own."

"I'm not leaving someone to die and have that on my conscience for the rest of my life, even if it is yours."

"Nothing's broken. They just knocked me out but that's it, I swear."

"And they used your backpack to do it, from the looks of it," Kenny noted, lifting it by the strap just a few feet away.

"Man, I knew those history books were heavy, but I never thought they could be used as a weapon," Jack said, rubbing his head.

"It made a wound," Kenny observed "You're bleeding all over the street." He picked Jack's bag up and shouldered it along with his own. "Come on."

Jack looked puzzled. "Where do you want me to go?"

Kenny let out a frustrated sigh. He didn't want to have to admit it verbally but … "You don't want your Aunt Rosa to turn the city upside down looking for Jamie and Phil, right. That'll get you in more trouble with the guys at school, if anything. And she won't do anything if she doesn't see you in this state."

Jack nodded, guessing at the point Kenny was trying to make.

"You're coming over to get that dried up blood off your face. You could use a new shirt, not this bloody and torn one." I gestured to the dirty piece of orange fabric hanging off his torso in shreds.

He was speechless. "I appreciate this, Kenny," he said, unsure of how to accurately voice his gratitude. "But why you doin' this?"

"For Lisa," Kenny replied simply, and continued walking home as Jack fell in step behind him.