Chapter One.
Long before he had become a police officer Sean had a dream that he would one day fight alongside law and order. It was defiantly his number one ambition.
He awoke suddenly from his slumber, his computer screen was still on and last nights work regained its implantation in his mind. As a research detective for the Raccoon Police, his job this time was to investigate into the mysterious mauling of a woman in the nearby forest. She was supposedly killed by bears buy Sean has his suspicions, these were not bear claws, they looked more like teeth marks. Sean scratched his head nervously, and withdrew from his desktop. He really needed his own bed, as this desk was no comparison.
The next morning he woke with an awful pain in his back. The desk had really done its damage this time. He stumbled downstairs, yawning like a hungry animal. It was dark outside, and the windows looked out upon fields of inky grass. Sean took to the fridge freezer, only to find that what was left of his food was compromised of baking soda, an old block of furry looking cheese and milk. He removed the milk whilst sighing to himself.
“I knew I should have gone shopping yesterday, I wish I hadn’t gone to sleep at my desk”
He filled a glass with milk and drank it down, it wasn’t much but it would have to do. He would go shopping on his way back from the station. This time, he couldn’t get caught up in anything.
His car was parked in the same old place again, outside the white picket fence of his next door neighbor’s house. He looked upon the starry sky with thought, what would today bring? It was always something new.
Sean walked up the stairs to the station, his head pounded from a headache that seemed to have lasted an age. It pounded with disagreement as though it was trying to tell him ‘get back to bed, I need sleep!’ He couldn’t though, his job needed him. He thought that he was very committed to his work, as he had never had a day off because, as he told himself several times, the law never sleeps, so why should he? He walked through the large oak doors and into the main hall, where several desks for minor officers sat and filed paperwork or sat back and drank coffee. It was known as the ‘bullpen’ to most of the officers, but Wesker called it the Crèche. Nice of him. Sean walked past Gladys, the secretary, who was picking at her nails.
“Hey Gladys,” Sean said, “Is Wesker in?”
“He set out this morning in a helicopter with Alpha S.T.A.R.S team.” She replied. She looked worried.
“Heard about the attacks?” She continued, “That’s what Wesker and the team went investigating. They spoke about sightings of weary people in the Arkley forest. I’m sure it’s nothing though.” However her look of worry did not fade, even though she had a wry smile on her face.
Sean sat himself down at his desk and contemplated the murders in Arkley forest. First, the woman at the base of the mountains, and now the people deeper in. There was defiantly something weird going on, and Sean was sure it was Umbrella’s fault. Umbrella was a chemical manufacturing and researching plant that created a whole range of products from face creams to napalm. They had a Top Secret lab in the Arkley Mountains, located a short distance from the forest. Could they have created some kind of weapon or monster that was killing the people that delved deep into the area? Sean decided that his hypothesis was obviously madness. No government agency would create a weapon like that and allow it to leak into the surrounding area. Sean lay back in his high leather chair and stared at the ceiling, the foam tiles staring back.
It looked like it was going to be another one of those days for Sean, nothing to do but fill out paperwork and take in calls from distressed sounding people. None of them were serious, so he buried back into his murder case. Teeth marks on the body, flesh torn from bone, god damn this was a gruesome one. Her face seemed to have been torn from the skull, and even in the light of the black and white evidence picture he could sense the whole bloodiness about her.
“Poor woman” he thought to himself. His eyes felt heavy. He thought of his warm comfy bed back at home, the warming sheets surrounded his mind.
He woke suddenly from his desk with Gladys staring at him.
“Sean?” she asked, “Wesker has been in touch with the office via his satellite phone. He wants you to go into his office and read up on his ‘Umbrella’ dossier. Supposedly you know what he’s talking about.” She gave him another wry smile and exited the room, she never allowed him to answer back. How did Wesker know his suspicions about Umbrella? He lofted himself from his chair, taking another quick glimpse at his monitor which had not changed, and followed Gladys out of the room. A quick walk down the hall led to Wesker’s office. His office was coded, and sealed by a huge re-enforced steel door. Sean had always wondered why he needed that; there must be something that he was keeping secret in his office. Sean entered the code, 4683, and entered Wesker’s office, which smelled slightly like bathroom air freshener. Wesker had mounted an antique pistol in a glass case next to his desk, which intrigued Sean. Albert Wesker, man of steel, was a secret antique collector. Sean thought of himself to be quite daring to think of something like this, as Wesker did not look kindly upon blows to his reputation, even if they were only jokes. The office was a steely gray colour, with pictures and news clippings on the walls. Wesker may be an old fashioned guy but he sure did take his job seriously.
On Wesker’s desk lay a folder with a red elastic band around it. The front was marked with the Umbrella symbol. Sean plucked it from the desk, and sat in Wesker’s chair while he read it. So this is how the big man lived then, comfy leather, high-backed chair reading up on dossiers all day? Sean knew he didn’t, but an imagination never hurt anyone did it?
The first few sheets of paper contained documents stating that Umbrella was working on several chemical projects that this moment. One that dated back to the 1950’s and some guy called James Marcus. It said that he was the creator of the “T” virus, but no more is known about it.
“Odd” thought Sean, “I’m sure that I’ve heard of James Marcus before.”
Sean read on to find that James Marcus, Ozwell E. Spenser and Edward Ashford were all parts in the making of the virus. Sean looked up at the clock, which he noticed it was 5pm on May 15th. Sean sighed to himself, as he raised himself up from Wesker’s chair.
“I’m going home, and this time I really have to do some shopping.”
On his way home, Sean noticed that in the local newspaper, 4 more hikers had been killed in the same grizzly way as the woman he had been investigating whilst walking in the Arkley Mountains. According ‘Alyssa Ashcroft’, who wrote the article, said that the Raccoon city council had cut off the roads leading to the Forest, saying that bears must have caused the incidents. Sean knew better. He picked up his usual groceries, which wasn’t as heavy as usual, then set off home in the darkening evening. The sky was red on the horizon, as the sun began its decent into the line where the earth met the sky.
Unusually, his bedroom felt colder than normal, which reminded him that he was single. He had told himself time and time again to get himself a girlfriend, but he was just too busy with his work, especially now. Dogs barked in the distance, and his head rested once again on his pillow, feeling the warm softness of its cotton surface. He drifted off again to the sound of that dog barking.
Chapter 2.
The next morning, Sean woke with a start, as he could hear as distinct as an air horn, a woman screaming. His eyes shot open, and his head buzzed as he wasn’t awake fully yet. He rose from his bead and looked out the window, into his neighbor’s garden. The window was smashed. He quickly bundled his gear together which incorporated: his police outfit, which had RPD written in large letters on the rear, his survival knife, which was given to every officer on the completion of his training, and his USP Compact pistol.
Sean treaded lightly up the garden path, and to the side gate which led to the back garden. He could feel his heart pumping with extreme force He pushed open the gate, which was already unlocked. He took a little look up and took out his pistol. The scream erupted again from the house, and Sean hurried quickly to the back door. He breathed a sigh, looked through the broken window to find nothing, and kicked hard at the door. The hinges immediately snapped in their place, and the door fell to the tiled kitchen floor. He looked again to the broken window. Blood stained the tiles under its rim. Sean breathed out again. He knew that this was now more than a petty burglary so he took to the door that led to the living room. Nothing interesting lay on the coffee table, and the house showed that of a woman who was neat and tidy. Sean made a sharp turn round, and headed up the stairs, keeping to the wall with his firearm raised.
For the third time a scream of help erupted, which deafened him, but he could tell that it came from the bedroom. His eyes darted to the door, which was gaping open. His breathing became restless and uneasy, and his forehead had a sticky sweat that was becoming plastered on. He took another deep breath before entering the room. Could this guy have a weapon? Sean entered the room, and looked to the right. A man with tattered clothes was beating the door senseless, whilst uttering a low key groan. He had a white shirt, which had several holes in and was stained in crimson blood patches. His hair was matted and was home to several clots of gore. The tattered jeans that he was wearing were ferociously kicking the door, which Sean knew must have been painful, as he was not wearing any shoes. Sean coughed.
The man turned round, and gave Sean a stare that he would not forget. His face was torn, with wounds that looked incredibly deep. Blood poured from his cheek, which he presumed he used to smash the window downstairs to get in. His eyes were glazed, and had a white look. He uttered the same moan and stumbled towards Sean.
“Sir” Sean said with an inquisitive tone “you are under arrest for breaking an entry. Stay…”
The man continued his ambling walk towards Sean. He did not seem phased by the comments.
“Sir, stay where you are!” Sean shouted, but this was replied with another soft low groan by the man. The man was now close to Sean, and he made a swipe for Sean’s face, but with no contact. He was too well trained for incidents like this one. Sean took out his knife and lunged for the mans abdomen, slicing a clean cut into his gut. Sean expected the man to go down after this, as they had taught him that this kind of blow would take down the hardest of men. However, the man stood up, knife in gut, and lunged for Sean again. “Not again” Sean thought, and he quickly took out his pistol and clubbed the man in the side of the head, knocking him to the floor. He placed his gun underneath where his spine joined his skull, and pulled the trigger.
A mixture of blood and brains shot across the inside of the neatly cleaned carpet. The man did not move again. Sean stood up from his execution style kill, and walked towards the ensuite bathroom door.
“Hey” He called into the bathroom, “It’s ok, I’m a police officer”
“Go away” A female voice called from the other side, she sounded hysterical.
