Legal Stuff: I do not own silent hill or any of the characters related to it in any of the games. I only own the original characters created for this story.

The airport terminal was a bustle of people coming and going and trying to reach connecting flights. After what seemed like an hour Detective Ericson finally retrieved his bag, and recovered his sidearm from airport security.

Just as he was about to leave he heard a deep friendly voice ask "Excuse me sir, are you Detective Ericson?"

Ericson turned to face the one who addressed him and was surprised to see a six foot tall man, with short cropped hair, dark brown skin, and a build like a professional linebacker towering over him.

"Er... Ah yes, I'm Detective Ericson, and who might I be talking to?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm sergeant Tyrone Peters. The lieutenant has assigned me to be your partner for as long as your case requires you to be in the county."

"Alright, so sergeant Peters what has your department done since we contacted you about the situation?" Ericson asked.

"Since we haven't got a description, fingerprints, or anything else of the suspects' to go on, the lieutenant could only really authorize extra patrol deployments, and put up checkpoints at the entrances to the town. We checked up on the passenger roster from the only other flight coming in from your point of origin, and all the passengers checked out. We had actually expected that as we're assuming the name Marshall Brixton is an alias because there's no birth certificate, drivers' license, bank account information, or medical records anywhere in that name." Peters answered.

"There was a M. Brixton in the phone book a few towns over, but the M stood for Marcus, and the fact that the man was seventy-five years old took him out of suspicion." Peters added.

"Well I suppose with the limited information we had to give you, you guys have done all you can. At this point it would be best if we went to the station, and went over deployments, and establish a base where I can co-ordinate the search from." Ericson said.

"Sure thing detective. My car's this way. It's the silver Grand Am over there." Peters said.

"Thanks. Oh and since we're going to be partners it would probably be best if you call me Rich, all my friends do."

"Ok Rich." Peters answered, flashing a wide smile.

"Then it would be a good idea if you called me Tyrone" he added.

The two men left the airport parking lot and proceeded to the police station. Along the way Tyrone decided to ask Rich a few questions.

"So Rich any idea why this whack-job is so fixated on you personally?"

"Well he claims to be upset at the fact that the justice department has been handing me lighter cases than what I used to receive normally." Rich replied.

"So have they? Been giving you easier cases I mean?"

"Yes, the reason for it being that all personnel in my field need to undergo regular physical examinations periodically. My last one showed that my stress levels were dangerously high. If I didn't do something to reduce them I could get lingering health problems, such as insomnia, ulcers and other physical and mental disorders. So in order to make sure my health doesn't go to hell in a hand basket, they began giving me less stressful cases for the time being."

"Damn. Kind of makes me glad I live in a small town where things like this hardly ever happen." Tyrone stated.

Rich just laughed. "Yeah, well someone has to deal with this type of thing when it comes up, and I happen to be very good at my job."

The car pulled into the police station at around nine forty-five pm. Tyrone took rich directly to see the lieutenant.

"Alright detective, we set aside one of the briefing rooms for you to use, and we've assembled the people working on this case in there. They're waiting for you now." The lieutenant informed him.

"Thanks Lieutenant, I'll get started right away." Rich said as he headed toward the briefing room.

"All right all of you settle down!" Tyrone called out to the assembled officers. "This is detective Richard Ericson, he's going to fill you in on search patterns and the killers' m.o., so listen up."

"Thank you sergeant, I'll make this short as we still have a lot to do. The only name we have right now, as you know, is Marshall Brixton. He's already killed fourteen people, knows all our moves, as he leaves no forensic evidence behind whatsoever. He's also in the habit of leaving letters personally addressed to me, telling me the general location of his next victim, which is why I'm here now."

One of the officers raised their hand. "Sir isn't that just giving him what he wants? Playing his game?"

"Yes it is, but he's warned us if I don't go along with it he'll keep killing and stop leaving the clues altogether. We figure some evidence to go on is better than none." Rich replied.

"Now this guy only goes after good salt-of-the-earth people intentionally, and the killings are exceptionally brutal, so we need to catch this guy A.S.A.P. Sergeant Peters is now handing out patrol routes, follow these exactly and call in any unusual activity immediately. That's all people, dismissed." Rich said

"Well nothing to do now except wait Rich. I bet it's been a long time since you got any decent sleep. We got you a room at a motel just two blocks down the road. I'll give you a lift, and you can get some sleep while we wait. Tyrone suggested.

"Yeah that's probably for the best." Rich agreed, as he hadn't got any decent sleep in three days.

As Tyrone's' car pulled away from the motel Rich fiddled with the lock and finally let himself in. The room was a basic one with a dresser in one corner, a television on a stand in the other, and a single bed. A nightstand stood next to the bed holding a table lamp, and a telephone. Rich turned off the lights and fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

He was awakened by seemingly nothing, what could only have been a few minutes later but the room had undergone a drastic change in that time. The bed was old and tattered; all of the wooden furniture had become badly water damaged. The lamp was missing its shade and the bulb in the socket was broken. The television screen was covered in dust and the antenna were bent and broken. The strangest thing though was the walls appeared to be caked with, what could only be described as blood.

As Rich was attempting to inspect the walls he heard a sudden snap followed by a hissing sound. He turned around to notice the television had come on, and snow was showing on the screen. Rich walked over and shut off the television, only to have it turn back on.

"What the hell?" Rich wondered aloud.

He walked around to the rear of the set and unplugged it from the wall, however the television refused to shut off.

"Okay, this is new." Rich stated aloud.

"No... wait... stop... please don't hurt me." A soft voice came from the screen.

"Huh??" Rich asked as he peered closer at the set. He could barely make out a faint image on the screen. The figure was small, maybe a child, and it looked familiar. The snow on the screen had almost cleared to the point where he could identify the image when he realized he was no longer alone in the room.

Rich turned around and got a brief impression of something moving quickly toward him, something with teeth. The thing launched itself at him and just before its jaws closed around his throat...

"RINNNG, RINNG, RINNG," the phone on the bedside table had woken him from his nightmare. Rich picked up the receiver and put it to his ear.

"Hello" he muttered into the phone.

"Rich it's Tyrone. We've found another victim. I'll be by in a few minutes to pick you up.

"Okay see you in a few." Rich answered as he hung up the phone.

"Damn what a nightmare. I really need to take a vacation when this is all over." Rich thought to himself.

After a ten-minute car ride, Rich and Tyrone arrived at the crime scene, a small garage. The officer on duty turned to them and said, "I have to warn you guys, this isn't pretty."

"Trust me, I'm used to it by now." Rich stated dryly.

"So who's the victim?" Tyrone asked.

"An auto-mechanic who does a lot of free work for various charities, and also did work for only the cost of the parts for struggling single parents." The office replied.

Rich entered the dimly lit garage and he could already smell the scent of blood mixing with gasoline and motor oils. He went over to the body and removed the sheet covering it. The torso had several screwdrivers and chisels plunged into it up to the handle, blood freely oozed out of these wounds. What was left of the head looked as if someone had decided to go to town on it with a sledgehammer.

Clutched in the latest victims right hand was an envelope, once again addressed to Detective Ericson.

"Wait this one looks different from the previous ones." Rich observed.

"Ah, hell it's written in blood this time." He said as he looked down at the letter.

Rich opened the envelope and read the letter only this time, gone were the words praising him, the paper had only two words written on it, both of them in blood.

"What the hell, where on earth is Silent Hill?" Rich started to ask as he turned to the other two men, and abruptly trailed off as he saw the grave looks he was getting from the both of them.