All that you think you know of Resident Evil, toss it to the winds. This is a story like none you've heard.

Full Summary: Leon S. Kennedy has just been reassigned to the secluded little town of Raccoon City as an official member S.T.A.R.S. He is reunited with his friend, Joseph Frost, and is soon acquainted with the famous characters both Jill Valentine and Chris Redfield. The town is a perfect place of a weekend getaway, or for a young cop to protect and serve in peace.

However not all is well in the little town, for something rotten and mysterious lurks in the surrounding forests. A dozen murders rattle the small town with both fear and grief, victims apparently being eaten alive.

The S.T.A.R.S. members are sent in to investigate the strange occurances...

"and it turned into...a nightmare..." -Chris Redfield.


Prologue

June 8, 1998

Sara Bruttle took a deep breath of the cold morning air. That's how it always was in the summertime of Raccoon City, cold from the dusk until dawn. It never became humid; it was never hot, always cool or freezing. The sun was just rising over the tops of the massive pine trees, bringing its pink and yellow smile to greet her on her morning jog. Sara lived on the outskirts of town, so being able to jog in the forests was a nice source of relaxation for her. In fact she practically lived in the middle of isolation, the nearest gas station was a mile away from her house. She lived just off the high way, dead as usual in the morning. Across the road and behind her house was raccoon forest, a beautiful northern forest. Quiet, huge, and peaceful.

This time she thought it better to cross the road and jog along the old trail that wound around through the trees and sharp mountain hills in there. It was always peaceful, and the terrain along Marble River was beautiful in the morning. She loved how the sun reflected off the wet, smooth stones and soft waters at dawn. So she began her jog, hopping down from her front porch, down the long drive that would eventually lead to the small, two-lane highway.

Pink and red etched the outlines of clouds as shadows tried to hide from the rising sun. Her breath was visible as it puffed out in tight billows from her lips. She sighed as her muscles moved, each in a simultaneous bound that drove her swiftly down the dirt road. Massive pine trees overpopulated the others by far, and they all loomed over her as guards, watching over her. Sara loved nature; even in the blackest night she thought it was so beautiful. And she could not understand why someone would not fall for something so wonderful. Past her mailbox, she was soon crossing the deserted highway, and across the road she went. Over the gravel bluff, she bounced down into the forest floor, covered with pine needles and cones. The trail was just a few hundred yards up the base of this large hill. It wound around the small mountains of Raccoon forest, if you could call this place mountainous. More or less gargantuan hills, they didn't even rise above the tree line. Nevertheless it was lovely country.

As she paced up the steep hill she ran through her day, she would finish this jog; go to the store to get groceries for tonight. Oh she was so excited, tonight her boyfriend would return from his service in the army. She was ecstatic, so to the point that her running broke into a sprint, for four years he had been enlisted. Now he was coming home for good, no more two-week visits, for good. She ran faster, wanting to get rid of this big thick amount of time between now and eight o'clock tonight. Her muscles pumping, her veins and arteries flushing blood throughout her body, driving her up the hill as fast as she could run. She reached the path and jogged along its dirt trail, her pace slowing from slight fatigue.

She thought ahead, her mind pacing ahead of her. The path would eventually descend down into a valley, along Marble River before again dipping into the forest valley and trailing around the Spencer Estate. But she never went that far, she never went past the riverside. There was something ominous about the Spencer Estate, something that made the woods become corrupt and dark. She didn't know why, but whenever she came near to the grounds of Spencer Estate she always felt as though there was something wrong with it. As though it was not of this earth, something immoral to the extent of a nightmare. No, it was best if she stayed away from those grounds. So she jogged on, and eventually the path began to descend.

Soon she could see the river, sparkling and glimmering brightly in the morning sun. She was careful not to stumble and fall on the bumpy trail as it wound around the trees and rocks. She followed the path as it coiled around pine trees, finally becoming level along the bank of the river. The view was mesmerizing, as it always was. The path looped along the rocks for a ways, and she chased after it. Then her jog slowed to a swift walk, which soon depleted to a stand still. Her breath leaping in heavy gasps from her lips, her heart pumping, and her muscles quivering with energy as she stood. But she wouldn't jog any further, for ahead stood the beginning grounds of the Spencer Estate.

She couldn't see the mansion itself, but in the far distance there stood the black metal fence that enclosed the front lawn and massive garden, bound by vines and foliage. She had traveled down that road before, only to find the forest would become thicker and darker. Even in the broadest of daylight it cast shadows and darkness upon the forest floor. Hardly any pine trees grew there, no they had all been cut down with the estate first went up. Replacing these were strange, foreign plant life. Deciduous trees, that were low and widespread with branches, and some of the strangest plant life she had ever seen. It was as though it was straight from those comic books with the dark jungles. No, she had come to hate that place, the only source of nature on earth that she despised and feared. She turned back and sat down on a boulder next to the marble river for a moment, just to admire the sunlight. She sat there for a few minutes, thinking in partial anticipation about tonight. But it was time to go, so she stood and prepared for the jog back. But something stopped her from moving, a noise that rustled in the woods behind her. She turned around briefly, but saw nothing there, so she turned back and started to jog when a soft choking gasp came out from the woods.

She stumbled and spun around, looking back into the shadows of the woods beyond. Silence, then a hesitant stumble in the thick foliage and a soft moan.

She thought for a moment, should she call out? No, she should wait. It could be one of those guard dogs that had gotten loose from the estate again. Those things were ferocious. The last thing she needed was one injuring her, last time one of those got out and nearly killed her cat. Suddenly her thoughts were ceased as a figure leapt out of the foliage in the darkness. It was deep in that part of the woods, and Sara had no intention of going in there. It was a man, and she jumped back when he twitched violently and fell on the ground.

Oh no, she would have to go in. But…no…too scary. Oh that was ridiculous, and as the man suddenly let out a short cry in pain she knew she had no choice.

"Hang on, I'm coming!" she cried and quickly sprinted into the woods.

Her entire body began to shake as she entered the dark welcoming of the trees. As she approached him he began to violently spasm, clutching his head and ripping at his hair in agony. She reached him and stood frozen, staring at his wounds along his back and arms. In some parts it looked as though his skin had been…torn off. His muscle could be seen, and blood splattered out whenever he jerked. He was dressed in a white-collar shirt, and his tie was torn and hanging loosely from his neck. His black slacks were covered in dust and shiny blood, and his shoes were stained with crimson and a strange slime. It was a deep red and blackish green, and mucus like. She took a deep breath, trying desperately to think of some way to help the man. He rolled around on the ground, his glasses broken and cast aside.

"Okay, okay, Shhh," she said kneeling down beside him, "You'll be fine-"

"NO!" he roared, his voice deep and choking, blood gurgling from his red-stained teeth, "Run!"

"Sir, no, relax. You need help-"

"RUN!" he lurched up suddenly and hurled the black and red mucus from his throat, small pieces of organs smeared in with the puke.

He turned to her, his eyes wild and seeping blood, and he grabbed her by her tank top and wheezed, "Run before I get you!"

She stared, horrified at the black veins that ran along his face, his skin itself swelled up and red with infection of some kind. His breath seemed to snarl and wheeze, his hand was slimy and cold against her skin. He threw her away, the surprising strength forcing her onto her back and rolling to the side. Again he twitched and jerked, his arms and hands shaking and pulsing furiously. Then suddenly he stopped, letting out a final gurgling breath. He lay on his left side, his face away from her. His legs were cast out and twisted around, and his right arm was behind his back. Horrified and confused, Sara stood, her eyes all the while staring at the blood-covered mass. The only movement on his body was his hand, twitching softly. She tried to speak, her fear swept up in her voice and throat. But as she rose to her feet, she barely managed, "S-Sir? Are-are you all right?"

The man moaned and choked, suddenly coming to life as he rose on his arm and knees. He rolled back onto his feet, the shoulder and arm with all the blood hanging loosely while his other was crooked and hunched up. His head was cocked back and resting upon his hunched up shoulder. His back was facing her, and as he moaned with every breath he slowly stumbled around, limping to face her. His eyes were wide and pale; the blood stains no longer draining from their pores.

"…Sir?" she asked, taking a step back.

Suddenly the man roared, like nothing she had ever heard before. It was human, but it was as though it was deeper, hoarser, and barbaric. She took his heeds and turned to run, sprinting away. But a heavy smacking force from behind drove her to the ground, her face connecting with the dirt. A snarl and suddenly a terrible stinging pain drove into her shoulder and neck as the hot breath of the man showered her skin. She screamed and hollered in pain as the fangs broke her skin and peeled it back. She struggled, tears trickling from her eyes as she frantically moved to try and escape. Just then she felt the fingers dig into her muscles and tendons and scraped the nails along the tissue. The hot breath began running along her back, searching for a new place to sink into.

She shoved and struggled but the muscles were too powerful. Then she felt the hands suddenly squeeze at her ribs, and she cried as the bones began to crack. The teeth began to furiously bite at her arm, ripping at the muscle and the skin. Suddenly her skin was shredded back and her muscle exposed, the tendons slowly being ripped loose from her joints. Her bicep slunk away, spilling upon the ground with her skin and blood. Sara finally broke free and knocked the man thickly upon the skull with her elbow, breaking into a limping jog. Her foot had been twisted when the man landed upon her, though only now she felt the pain as she desperately limped down the trail. If she could just get away from the woods. If she could just escape into the sunlight-

She tripped and her eye socket and temple smacked into a lining of rocks, the skull cracking loudly in her ear and she knew nothing but blackness. Only sound and smell were with her, and soon the uneven, stumbling trot of her pursuer became clearer. He moaned softly, stopping.

"No!" she cried through tears, "Please don't! Please!"

But a powerful crunch snapped at her ribs and chest as the knees of the man slammed against her sternum. She coughed and wheezed for air, her heart pounding as the hot, repulsive breath billowed against her face and neck.

"No no no…" she whispered and pleaded.

The breath became hotter, the smell of cabbage and rotten meat flaring at her nostrils. She let out one final scream of protest as the teeth grazed against her esophagus and throat before her cry was cut short into a gurgling moan as blood filled her vocal cords and trachea.

Chapter One

July 23, 1998

Leon awoke slowly; his eyes clenched shut to refuse the morning sun. The alarm set off with incessant squawking that filled the quiet room. Despite how much he disliked it, Leon was an early riser; his alarm clock was only a back up. Not that it would have normally mattered, Leon had hated his damn job for it's entire existence in his life. After he had graduated from the academy, Leon thought that life as a police officer would be of thrill and excitement. Perhaps he should have listened to his friends when they told him frankly, "bull shit". He had been a cop for nearly a year and the most action he had seen was when a stoned kid tried to run from him. Well that's what you are needled to when you transfer to a town like Raccoon City. Nothing ever happens here. Of course it was much better then the incessant brutality of New York City, which was horror. Oh wait…no, that's right. He no longer was a cop. He had been promoted.

Why the hell had he been promoted? It had only been a year since he had been working as a cop. Oh yea, when the women's house was on fire. He had broken down the door when the firefighters wouldn't. They thought it was too dangerous. Hell if he gave a damn, you take a position of the law then your duty is to protect and to serve, no matter the risk. Even if…well…even if you are off duty. But that didn't matter. He had been promoted to S.T.A.R.S. now.

Yes, that's right. He was an elite member of the S.T.A.R.S. (special tactics and rescue service). Albert Wesker sought him out after he learned of what Leon had done, and personally saw the chief Irons to transfer Leon to his team. That's right, Leon was a S.T.A.R.S. member now. He was an elite officer of special task. He was…oh shit he was late!

Leon scrambled out of bed, wrestling with the sheets that tried to hold him back. Stumbling over dirty clothes, a ruffled throw rug, and his puppy, he made his way to his closet. He stretched his muscles into a white t-shirt, and sunk into a pair of jeans. It felt nice not having to wear that tight uniform, though he did miss the pride of wearing his badge right there on his chest. His black sneakers came next, followed by a lightweight, brown leather jacket. Raccoon city's summers were always a bit chilly in the mornings. Though as he drew the jacket from a hanger on the door he didn't hurriedly put this on, no; he proudly allowed it to envelope his shoulders and arms. Only it wasn't the jacket that he held in such high prestige, but what it contained. His wallet, and in that wallet was his badge. His badge…he always stopped to admire it for a moment. He was now a protector of this city, despite the diminutive amount of crime that stood against him. It was still something to fend off. He tripped out of his closet and stumbled over his puppy yet again.

"Sorry, Argus," said Leon as the little golden retriever groaned, "I'll be back tonight."

No time for a shower now, not that it mattered. They had a locker room in the station; he could snatch a quick one there if he needed it. It's not that they set an exact time for him to be in every morning, his shifts were constantly changing. But today was important; the chief was calling most of the station in for a meeting at eight-thirty. Showing up late would look bad.

Leon walked out into the chilled main room of his studio apartment, the icy morning air eating to his bones. It was dim as always, he had a knack for conserving electricity. Leon sighed to shake off the last feelings of sleep as he passed the couch and paced into the kitchen. As he prepared the puppy's breakfast for the day, he eyed the digital numbers on the stained microwave. Eight-ten. Damn it, still late. He tripped over one of the multi-colored chew toys, the squeak whistling out into the quiet room as he set the bowl of kibbles down. The noise sounded of scrambling of fuzzy paws as the puppy scampered into the main room, slid across the wood floor, and bounded into the kitchen. Leon patted the dog on the head as he stepped out into the room, and snatched the report files on the table. Oh crap, he had forgot to read them. Man, he was really screwing up. Oh how could anyone be so ignorant on the first week of his or her job? With superhuman skill and stupidity, that's how.

He snatched his gun holster and shoulder strap that hung on the coat stand, though he did it with regret. The only downside about being a hero and protector of the law, he had to do it with a death-dealing machine. Leon was never a big fan of guns, but whatever works to keep the innocent safe. Leon yawned and walked out of the apartment, slamming the heavy wooden door behind him. And of course, the hallway was warmer then his frigid apartment. He rolled his eyes at the owner's conception of comfortable temperatures as he swiftly walked down the narrow hall. He made sure his wallet was in his jacket, his keys were securely in his pant's pocket, and his hair was not too tossed around. His stomach snarled at him and seemed to shake its fist in anger that he had not stuffed it.

Oh well, he could grab a light breakfast after the debriefing. There were a couple of vending machines just outside the briefing room. Oh yes, the wondrous taste of salted peanuts and half melted chocolate. Be still, beating taste buds.

Leon stepped out into the brilliant morning sun and walked towards his jeep. No more squad car, how good it was to have no squad car. The beautiful, perfect, Raccoon City greeted him with the sounds of children's laughter blessing summer, and dogs barking in the distance. Aside from some of the asshole kids that ran around, it was a good little get away spot. Secluded in the mountains, there wasn't another city for miles. And only one small two-lane highway ran up to this small town. Of course, now it was more of a city then a town. Leon did like it better as a town; he used to visit this place as a child with his parents. It was there weekend getaway. But then, a few years ago that Umbrella Corporation came along. They took this place and manifested it into what it was, a city. Though, Leon supposed he lived now in a decent part of the town. The Trask district, white-collar area, a harmless park a few blocks away where he'd walk Argus. Good city, he enjoyed looking after it.

Leon slipped into his jeep and ignited it to life, revving the engine. Suddenly the radio blared into his ears, squawking at him with the annoying local DJ, Razlo on 93.6 the Shocker. Leon's fingers scrambled for the volume knob and twisted it down until it clicked off. He hated when he would hear a good rock song then forget to turn the volume down before he switched off the engine. And being verbally attacked in his eardrums by Razlo was no better. Asshole, some of the sick things that perverted freak had conversations about just made Leon wonder why this town hadn't fallen from its charm and innocent lifestyle.

Leon reared out of his parking space and swerved out into the calm street, trying desperately to win against time. His groaning stomach complained but he ignored it, he could not be late. Well gee, perhaps he should've thought of that when he spent the previous thirty minutes in his bed? Man, he had to stop being such a lazy ass.

Jill Valentine pulled into the rear parking lot of the police station at eight-fifteen. She slowly turned her little car into the rows reserved for S.T.A.R.S. members. It was somewhat pleasant to be treated with such high regard at times. Ever since she had transferred from a previous special tactics force to the S.T.A.R.S. here in Raccoon City she and her fellow teammates were treated with such tall respect. At times it was amusing, but at others it was a little eccentric, even ridiculous. After all they hardly did anything most of the time, nothing more then train and perform the dangerous task of filing papers and studying documents and cases. The S.T.A.R.S. teams were almost like back up, a special item to use when a case was too difficult for the regulars. Jill pulled into a space beside Barry Burton's bright red truck, from which Barry was just getting out. Her little corolla was nothing compared to the massive pickup, she couldn't even see past it as she parked upon its right side. What a manly man car, way too macho. But that was Barry for you. The man went crazy for guns, muscles, and trucks. Only Barry's typical macho personality could be so predictable. Then again, he was astonishingly kind, very gentle; a family man. Oddly enough she and Barry were good friends, Jill just didn't like his big ass truck.

Jill stepped out of her little blue car and smiled at Barry as he pulled out some rusted metal box from his car.

"Mornin' Jill," he hollered through his beard, digging around on the passenger side of his truck.

"Morning Barry," she said coming around to his side, "What showcase do you have for us today?"

Barry smiled. He always had a new firing arm to display for the whole police department. That was Barry, very social in some of the strangest ways.

"Oh I nice piece," said the middle-aged man slamming the door of his truck, "It's the latest addition to my collection. I call it the Colt Python Elite. Which is…its actual name."

He opened the metal box to reveal the silvery chrome shaft and brown handle of the massive handgun. A box of its powerful .357 slugs sat next to it in a padded casing. Jill didn't necessarily like guns, despite the fact that she could recognize most of them and was well aware of each series' capability. But Barry did have partial reason to be proud over his new toy. The Colt Python elite was a trusty revolving magnum. Too sluggish for Jill, she preferred the HK VP 70, it was small and fast, and carried larger quantities of rounds. Nevertheless, she viewed a gun as a tool and not a hobby.

"Wow, looks…" said Jill searching for the right word, "Uh, menacing."

"I know. Wait until Chris and Joseph see it, they'll get a kick out of it."

It seemed as though the words of his old pal triggered the distant roar of Chris Redfield's motorbike down the street from the station. The roar of the softail grew and grew, and Jill's gaze turned to meet it as the bike barreled into view. Chris Redfield, one of the picture-perfect members of S.T.A.R.S. He was strong, one of the best marksman, handsome, suave, classy, and to be honest kinda phony. Jill liked him though; he had been a good friend to her. They were pretty close, always joking around. She supposed Chris made working here easier; he certainly worked to keep some of the perverts here away from her. He seemed to be a good person, no bad intentions. He had a younger sister who he took care of; she was away at college now. He was working two jobs to see to it that she got through with tuition okay. As Chris swung in on the other side of Barry's truck Jill smiled. She had always wanted to get a little closer to Chris, but her job was too important. A relationship would get in the way.

Chris quieted the roaring engine of his softail and stepped off the bike, wearing his typical black leather jacket, jeans, heavy black boots, and his full faced black helmet. He took it off and set the helmet down on the bike's seat with a grin (he didn't have to worry if it would be stolen or not, Chris was respected here, as was everything of his).

"Good morning, you two," he said stepping up upon the sidewalk to join them.

"Hey Chris," replied Jill.

Chris Redfield. He was the one guy who wasn't too macho or too suave…at times. She liked that about him.

"Hey Chris, check out the colt python elite," said Barry with magnificent manly pride.

"All right, you got it?" said Chris becoming coolly excited.

Just how the hell can you be coolly excited, anyway? Only Mr. Smooth a.k.a. Chris Redfield could pull that off. For two years she'd known him he had yet to break into any emotion beyond his calm and collected limit.

While the two hovered in their macho wonder at the deadly magnificence, Jill drew her gaze elsewhere. It was strange, she realized, as she noticed Albert Wesker's parking spot was unoccupied. Albert was never late, on the contrary he was extremely early, his labeled space seemed to never be vacant. Jill brushed away the thought and looked at her watch, eight-nineteen. Plenty of time until the meeting started, after all the room was just inside the doors. Her eyes were resurrected from her watch towards her two teammates after she heard a humored, almost pesky voice call out, "Chris, you fuckin' ass. You'd said you'd help me with filing the goddamn papers."

Joseph Frost. The blonde, curly haired teenager-in-a-man's-body hopped down the front steps of the station to meet his friends. Everyone's typical clown who was armed with beer and the knowledge of swear words. Joseph brought swearing to an entirely new level, an art form. It was miraculous how many curse words he could fit into one sentence, but keep it in tact so that its delicate meaning remained.

"Aw, my bad, Joseph," said Chris shrugging, "I got a call from Claire this morning. She had just broken up with her boyfriend. Sorry pal."

"What the fu-…Claire's single?"

Claire Redfield, Chris' younger sister. She was very sweet and intelligent. She and Jill got along well whenever she came to visit her brother. And Joseph, his key interests being women, was always looking for a date from both her and Jill.

"You keep far away from her, pal," said Chris pointing a finger at Joseph, "Last thing she needs is a horn dog like you begging at her feet."

"Ah shit, Chris. You know I'm just playin' around. But still god dammit show up next time I fuckin' ask you."

"All right."

Joseph ambled up next to the three of them and lit a cigarette.

"Joseph, you smoke too much," said Barry, "You need to stay in shape."

"Says the guy with the gut," Joseph snickered at his own crack until Barry knocked him a soft one on the arm, "Fuckin' ow, man."

"Least I have some muscle, pipsqueak," said Barry with a chuckle.

"So do you guys know what this meeting is about?" inquired Jill, piercing the light conversation with the needle of important occupation.

"No," said Chris, "But it's probably about those bizarre murder cases up in Raccoon forest. You all hear about those?"

"No," said Joseph.

Typical Joseph Frost.

"A little," replied Barry, "I thought there was only one."

"No," said Chris, his phony perfect grin slipping away from his face, "Some families were attacked as well. They haven't released it to the news yet because frankly…chief Irons has no idea what's going on."

"Psh, yea that's new," said Joseph sarcastically.

"No kidding," replied Chris.

"Well then why doesn't Wesker know anything about it?" asked Jill.

This question silenced the group. Normally Wesker is on top of every case, always allowing the S.T.A.R.S. members to hear what he has heard to keep them awake and ahead of the regulars (the other police). But as for the case about the numbers of mangled bodies in Raccoon Forest, Wesker hadn't said anything. Just then a muffled yet blaring rock song entered Jill's ears as a jeep emerged from down the street.

"It's our little rookie," said Barry jokingly.
"His name is Leon, dude," said Joseph, "Leon."

Joseph and the rookie were good friends; apparently they had known each other since academy. Jill was amazed anyone could be so tolerant of Joseph's behavior, but this rookie pulled it off. She thought at first that he was probably an asshole similar to that of his friend. But actually the young guy seemed decent. Fresh out of the academy, he wasn't much older then Chris' sister. He was quiet, kind, and polite. However, the rookie had almost no self-confidence. It was pretty funny to see him beat Chris in the fifty-yard dash, even if Leon kept denying it. Of course, he also beat Chris at the hundred, two hundred, even the mile run. In fact, the kid hadn't lost at anything he and Chris had competed together in, at least not physically.

Leon rolled in across the parking lot from where they were, the loud music dying as he quieted his engine and stepped out. Yea he may have been a little cute, but still not like Chris. Oh not that Jill was looking, in fact right now she was enjoying the single life spectrum of "not caring". The rookie attempted to cross the street to them but threw himself back when a cop car whizzed by swiftly and called out, "Watch it!"

"What the hell was that shit!" cried Joseph.

"It's that asshole, Tayler. He didn't make the S.T.A.R.S. like our little rookie did," replied Barry, "He's kinda holding a grudge."

"Apparently. Poor little rookie," murmured Chris.

"Dude, it's Leon."

The rookie crossed the street, his hands in his pockets, his eyes nervously moving from the ground to the members of the alpha team. Jill felt obligated to be the nicer one to the poor guy, seeing as how no one else was. She smiled at him, and was about to say good morning when Joseph hopped forth and said in the most hypocritical sense possible, "Morning, rookie."

"Shut up, Joseph," said Leon quietly with a half smile, "You know I hate that."

"Yea I know," said Joseph, the two of them slapping and firmly grasping hands in some weird 'high-five' thing.

Too macho manly. But at the same time Jill couldn't help but notice something different about Leon. She couldn't quite tell, but he seemed somehow unique to the others. Like he didn't really fit in with them.

"Morning, Leon," said Chris punching him lightly in the shoulder, "Way to kick my ass yesterday in the mile."

"And every other run," Joseph teasingly reminded.

Leon smiled and looked down at his shoes, "Yea well, I don't know I guess I practice too much. But I could never beat you at marksman."

Barry smiled and said, "Oh no. Chris has been the best since we first were stationed here. But keep trying like I am, maybe we'll beat him, probably not. Oh, Leon. I thought you might like to see this."

And the Colt Python was again revealed. Leon and Joseph leaned in close with curiosity, but Jill noticed Leon wasn't all that interested. He leaned back and turned his gaze to her for just a swift second. She smiled and he barely managed to reply with a minute grin before turning away. Way too nervous, was she really that intimidating?

"Yea…I prefer my sweet ass shotgun," said Joseph, always being critical.

"Oh you would," joked Barry, "Always carrying that big sluggish thing, I wonder how you can maneuver with that all the time."

They were all silent, staring at Barry in puzzlement.

"I'm the only one carrying sluggish weight? Man I wonder the same damn thing about you," said Joseph eying Barry's stomach.

Barry let out a deep laugh. Nothing could offend him. Jill noticed Chris as he looked over for a moment and his eyes widened.

"Damn, it's Wesker," he said in a cool panic, "Quick, look busy!"

Albert Wesker, the commander and overseer of Alpha team in S.T.A.R.S. He was Barry's age, thirty-eight, though he looked nothing like it. Dressed in all black, he always wore aviator sunglasses; his blonde hair always slicked back. The 'cool' guy: always calm and watchful, always keeping an eye on everything. Yet at times he could be kind, like an icy fatherly figure. But most of the time he was there to keep the alpha team from slacking off (somewhat of a hard thing to do). As he stepped up onto the pavement Joseph started the "serious" conversation, "So uh, wh-what do you think did those uh…murders in the woods."

"You mean the families and what not in Raccoon Forest?" asked Chris, with ringing phoniness, "I don't know. I assume it was some sort of cult or something."

Wesker sauntered by and said calmly, "Relax, I know you're not talking about work."

They all seemed to drop in relief, except for Leon who looked around in a lack of understanding. Jill watched him turn over his shoulder and look at Wesker, turn back then again take a look. He said politely, "Morning, sir."

Everyone else in the group winced. Wesker stopped and turned around, "Rookie, Leon right?"

The young man looked frozen solid, trying to figure out the mistake he had made. You never ever call Wesker "sir". It out rightly infuriated him.

"Uh, yes sir?"

"Don't call me sir, Leon. I'm your equal; I just make sure you're doing your job. Got it?"

"Yes si-…uh yea."

"Good," and with that, the tall, muscular Wesker disappeared into the building. Leon sighed, but was mortified when Wesker's head popped back out and said, "And nice job smothering Chris' ass in the mile yesterday."

The tall man disappeared, and signaled an uproar of laughter. Chris laughed the loudest, not surprising. Another thing she kind of liked about Chris, just how well he took things. Unless they were negatively put about his sister or his friends, then he wasn't too happy.

Joseph cracked up as he desperately tried to imitate Leon, "Oh uh…well…uh-um…yes si-er…yea."

Barry chuckled and Chris smiled, folding his arms upon his chest. What a macho show off. Joseph continued to laugh like a hyena.

"Shut up, Joseph," said Leon smiling.

"You…loser…you are such a kiss ass," said Joseph through his gradually subsiding hysterics.

Jill somewhat put her fingers to her mouth as she tried not to laugh. It was pretty humorous to see someone like Leon cowering before Wesker. Honestly, Leon was in much better shape then the skinnier Wesker, and it's not that he had anything against him. Poor Leon, he was just younger then they all were. What was it…twenty-one? Twenty? Wesker actually seemed to be somewhat proud of the man's records. First rate in everything at the academy, his specialties lying in fitness and physical training. And not just that, but he had some thought process alive and working upstairs. Unlike some of the other muscle heads she was working with, it was almost repulsive to hear some of their vocabulary. Leon was intelligent, and it showed.

"Come on, kiddies," said Barry, "Meeting's about to start and I want some coffee 'fore we go in. I can't stand Chief Irons boring speeches without coffee, I pass right out."

They all shuffled into the large, glass front doors.

"Yea I can understand," said Joseph flicking away his cigarette, "But with the police station's coffee? You fuckin' pansy. That weak shit will more likely put your fat ass into hibernation then wake you up."

"What would you prefer, hard liquor at eight fifteen in the morning?"

"No, that's at eleven."

"Joseph, I don't know how you hold this job," said Chris.

"What? All I'm saying is a nice cup of black coffee from Emmy's diner. Chris and Leon? You suckers can't cook; you eat there every night. Am I right?"

"Yea sure, Joseph," said Leon.