Chapter 3: Chapter 2
Jill was deeply relieved to hear Wesker's voice as she jogged toward the open door of the S.T.A.R.S office. She saw one of their helicopters taking off as she arrived, thinks they had left without her.
S.T.A.R.S was rather casual in some respects, but there wasn't any room for people who couldn't keep up either; let alone, she wanted to be part of the case from the beginning.
"The RPD has established a perimeter search, spanning sector one, four, seven, and nine. It's the central zones we're concerned with, and Bravo will assign there."
At least she wasn't pretty late; Wesker always ran meetings the same way, update speech, theory, then Q and A.
Jill took a deep breath and stepped into the office, finding Wesker was pointing at the posted map at the front of the room, marked with colored tags where the bodies had been discovering.
He hardly faltered in his speech as she walked quickly to her desk, feeling like she was back in basic training and showed up late for the case.
Chris Redfield threw her a half-smile as she sat down, nods back at him before focusing on Wesker. She didn't know any of the others that well, but Chris had made a real effort to welcome her since the first day she showed up.
"...After a fly-by of the other central areas. Once they report in, we'll have a better idea of where to focus our energies."
"But what about Spencer Mansion?" Chris asked, "it's in the middle of the crime scenes; if we start from there, we can conduct a more complete search-"
"-If Bravo's information leads to that area, rest assured, we'll search there. For now, I don't see any reason to consider it a priority."
Chris looked skeptical, "But we only have Umbrella's word that mansion is secure."
Wesker leaned against his desk; his firm feature stayed impassive, "Chris, we all want to solve the case. But we must work as a team, and the best approach is to do a thorough search for the missing hikers before we start jumping to conclusions.
Bravo will collect information for us first then we'll conduct the operation by the book."
Chris frowned but said nothing else. Jill resisted the urge to roll her eyes at Wesker's little speech. Well, technically, he did right but had left out the part about it being politic as Chief Irons wanted.
The man had made it clear time and again throughout the killing spree that he was in charge of the investigation, calling the shots. It wouldn't have bothered her so much except that Wesker presented himself as an independent thinker, a man who didn't play politics.
She joined S.T.A.R.S because she couldn't stand the bullshit red-tape that dominated so much of law enforcement, and Wesker's obvious attentive to the chief was annoying.
'Well, don't forget that you stood a good chance of ending up in prison if you hadn't change your occupation.'
"Ah, Jill. I see that you managed to find the time to come in, please share us your brilliant insight."
Jill met Wesker's intense gaze, trying to seem as calm and composed as he was, " Nothing new, I'm afraid. The only obvious pattern is the location."
She looked down at the notes within the stack of files, scans them for reference.
"Uh, the tissue samples from underneath both Becky McGee's and Chris Smith's fingernails were an exact match, we got that yesterday... and Tonya Lipton, the third victim, has been hiking the foothills, that would be sector-- seven-B."
She looked back to Wesker and made her pitch, "My theory at this point is that a possible ritualistic cult hiding in the mountains, four to eleven members reliable with guard dogs trained to attack intruders of their territory."
"Extrapolate," Wesker folded his arms, waiting.
'No one laughed, at least,' Jill thought before continued, "The cannibalism and dismemberment suggest ritualistic behavior, as does the presence of decomposed flesh found on some of the victims- like the killers are carrying parts of the previous unknown victims to their attack.
We've got saliva and tissue samples from four separate human assailants, though eye-witness report suggests up to ten or eleven people. And those killed by animals were all found or found to be attacked in the same vicinity.
Possibly that they wandered into a restricted area. The saliva traces appear to be canine, though there was still some disagreement...," she trailed off before went silent.
Wesker's face betrayed nothing, but he nodded, "Not bad, not bad at all. Deny?"
Jill sighed; she hated having to shoot own theory down, but that was part of the job- and honestly, the part of that most encouraged clear, rational thinking.
S.T.A.R.S trained their people not to fixate on any single path to the truth, Jill glanced at her notes again, "It's quite unlikely that a cult with this scale moved around much, and the murders started very recently to be local; the RPD would've seen signs before now, some escalation to this kind of behavior. Also, the level of post-mortem violence indicates disorganized offenders, and they usually work solo."
Joseph Frost, the Alpha vehicle specialist, piped up from the back of the room, "The animal attack part works tho, protecting their territory and all that."
Wesker picked up a pen and walked to the dry-erase board next to his desk, talking as he moved, "I agree."
He wrote territoriality on the board then turned back to face her, "Anything else?"
Jill shook her head but felt good that she had contributed something. She knew the cult aspect was overboard, but it's the only thing she could come up with.
The police certainly hadn't come up with anything better.
Wesker turned his attention to Brad Vickers, who suggested that it was a new strain of terrorism and that demands would be made soon. He put terrorism on the board but doesn't appear enthusiastic about it, neither did anyone else.
Brad quickly went back to his headset, checking on Bravo team's status.
Both Joseph and Barry threw out their theory, and Chris' views on the killings were already well known; he believed it was an organized assault, with some external influence.
Wesker asked if he had anything new to add (stressing new, Jill noticed), and Chris shook his head, looking depressed.
Wesker capped the black pen and sat on the edge of his desk, gazing thoughtfully at the blank expanse of the board, says, "It's a start."
"I know you've all read the police and coroner reports, and listened to the eyewitness accounts-"
"Vicker here, over," Brad spoke quietly into his headset, interrupting Wesler.
The captain lowered his voice and continued, "Now at this point, we don't know what threat we are facing, and I know that all of us have some... concerns with how RPD has been dealing with the case.
But now that we're on the case, I would like to-"
"What?!" Brad's voice was high this time, gaining attention on everyone else in the room.
Brand stood up, looks agitated, one hand pressed to the earpiece of his set.
"Bravo team, report. Repeat, Bravo team, report!"
Wesker stood up, quickly says, "Vickers, put it on 'com!"
Brad hit the switch on his console and the bright, crackling sound of static filled the room. Jill strained to hear a human voice amidst the fuzz, but for several tense seconds, there was nothing.
"...you copy? Malfunction, we're going to have to..."
The rest was lost in a burst of static. It sounded like Enrico Marini, the Bravo team leader.
Jill chewed on her lower lip and exchanged a worried glance with Chris.
Enrico had seemed... frantic.
They tried to listen for another moment but nothing entered the com anymore.
"Position?" Wesker snapped.
Brad's face was pale, "They're in the, uh, sector twenty-two, at the tail end of C... except I've lost the signal. The transmitter is offline."
Jill stunned, sees the feeling reflected in the others' face.
The helicopter's transmitter was designed to keep working no matter what; the only way it would shutdown was if something big happened- the entire system blanking out or being seriously damaged.
Like a crash.
Chris felt his stomach knot as he recognized the coordinates; the Spencer Mansion.
Marini had said something about a malfunction, it had to be a coincidence- but it didn't feel like one.
The Bravo was in trouble, and practically on the top of the old Umbrella mansion.
All of this went through his head in a split-second, and then he was standing, ready to move.
Whatever happened, S.T.A.R.S took cares their member. Wesker was also stand by for action.
He ordered the team even as he reached for his keys, heading for the gun safe.
"Joseph, take over the radio, keep trying to contact them.
Vickers, warm up the 'copter and get clearance, I want us ready to fly in five."
The captain unlocked the safe as Brad handed the headset to Joseph and hurled out of the room.
The reinforced metal door swung open, revealing an arsenal of rifles and handguns, along with boxes of ammo.
Wesker turned to the rest of them, his expression was stoic but his voice brisked with authority.
"Barry, Chris, I want you to get the weapons into the 'copter, loaded and secured. Jill, get the vests and packs, meet us on the roof."
He clipped a key off his ring and tossed it to her.
"I'm going to notify Irons, make sure he gets us some backup and EMT's down at the barricade," Wesker said, then blew out sharply, "five minutes or less, folks. Let's move."
Jill left for the locker room, and Barry grabbed one of the empty duffel bags from the bottom of the gun safe, nods at Chris.
Chris picked a second bag and started loading boxes of shells, cartridges, and clips as Barry carefully handled the weapons, checking each one.
Behind them, Joseph had tried to call the Bravo team but to no avail.
Chris wondered again about the proximity of the Bravo team's last reported position, it's no doubt Spencer Mansion; was there a connection? And if so, how? Billy worked for Umbrella, and they own the mansion.
"Chief? Wesker. We just lost contact with Bravo; I'm taking us in."
Wesker quickly relayed the information to Irons over the phone then he hung up, walking back to join them.
Chris felt a sudden rush of adrenaline and worked faster, aware that every second counted- could mean the difference between life and death for his friends and teammates.
A serious crash was not possible, the Bravo supposedly flies low and Forest was a decent pilot... but what about after they had gone down?
"I'm going up, makes sure our 'copter outfitted. Joseph, give it another minute then turn it over to the boys at the front desk. You can help these two carry the equipment up. I'll see you on top," Wesker nodded at them and hurried out, his foot-steps clattered loudly down the hall.
"He's good," Barry said quietly, and Chris agreed. It was reassuring to see their new captain didn't rattle easily. Chris still wasn't sure how he felt about the man personally, but his respect for Wesker was growing by the minute.
"Come in, Bravo, do you copy? Repeat...," Joseph patiently went on, his voice tight with strain, the pleas lost to the haze of white static that pulsed out into the room.
Wesker strode down the deserted hall and through the shabbier of the two second-floor waiting rooms, nods briskly at a pair of uniforms by the soda machine.
The door to the outside landing was chocked open, a faint and humid breeze cuts through the stickiness of the air inside.
It's still daylight, but not for much longer, he hoped that wouldn't complicate matters, although he figured it probably would.
Wesker took a turn to the left and started walking down the winding corridor that led to the helipad, absently running through a mental checklist.
Hailing open procedure, weapons, gear, report...
He knew that everything was in order, but went through it again anyway; it didn't pay to get sloppy, and assumptions were the first step down that path. Wesker liked to think of himself as a man of precision, one who had taken all possibilities into account and decided on the best course of action after thoroughly weighing all factors. Control was what being a competent leader was all about, But to close this case-
He shut the thought down before it could get any further, knows what had to be done, and there was still plenty of time.
All he needed is to concentrate on rescuing the Bravo team, safe and sound.
Wesker opened the door at the end of the hall and stepped out into the bright evening, the rising hum of the 'copter's engine and the smell of machine oil filling his senses. The small rooftop helipad was cooler than inside, partly draped by the shadow of an aging water tower and empty except for the gunmetal gray Alpha helicopter.
For the first time, he wondered what had gone wrong for Bravo; he had Joseph and the rookie check both birds out yesterday and they were fine, all systems go.
He dismissed the train of thought as he walked toward the 'copter, his shadow falling long across the concrete.
It didn't matter why, not anymore. What mattered was what came next. Expect the unexpected, that was S.T.A.R.S motto- although that basically meant to prepare for anything.
Expect nothing, that was Albert Wesker's motto. A little less catchy, maybe, but infinitely more useful. It virtually guaranteed that nothing would ever surprise him.
He stepped up to the open pilot door and got a shaky thumbs-up from Vickers; the man looked positively green, and Wesker considered whether he should just stay behind. Chris was licensed to fly, and Vickers had a reputation for choking under the gun; the last thing he needed was for one of his people to freeze up when trouble raise.
Then he thought about the lost Bravos and decided against it. This was a rescue mission. The worst Vickers could do would be to throw up on himself if the 'copter had crashed badly, and Wesker could live with that.
He opened the side door and crouched his way into the cabin, doing a quick inventory of the equipment that lined the walls.
Emergency flares, ration kits...
He popped the lid on the heavy, dented footlocker behind the benches and looked through the basic medical supplies, nodding to himself. They were as ready as they were going to be.
Wesker grinned suddenly, wondering what Brian Irons was doing right now.
Shitting his pants, no doubt. Wesker chuckled as he stepped back out onto the sun-baked asphalt, getting a sudden clear mental image of irons, his pudgy cheeks red with anger and crap dribbling down his leg.
Irons liked to think he is in control of everything and everyone around him and lost his temper when he knew he actually not, and that made him an idiot.
Unfortunately for all of them, he was an idiot with a little bit of power. Wesker had checked him out carefully before taking the position in Raccoon City and knew a few things about chief that didn't paint him in a particularly positive light.
He had no intention of using that information, but if Irons attempted to screw things up one more time, Wesker had no qualms about letting that information get out.
Or at least tell him that he had the access to it; it would certainly keep him out of the way.
Barry Burton stepped out onto the concrete while carrying the ammo cache, his giant biceps flexed as he shifted the hold on the heavy canvas bag and rode the 'copter.
Chris and Joseph followed, Chris with the sidearms and Joseph lugged a satchel of RPGs, the compact grenade launcher slung over his shoulder.
Wesker marveled at Burton's brute strength as the Alpha climbed in and casually set the bag down as if it didn't weight over a hundred pounds. Barry was bright enough, but in S.T.A.R.S, the muscle was a definite asset.
Everyone else in his squad was in good shape, but compared to Barry, they were pencil-necks.
As the three of them stored the equipment, Wesker turned his attention back to the door, watching for Jill.
He checked his watch and frowned, it had been just under five minutes since their last contact with Bravo, they had made excellent time... but where the hell was Valentine?
He hadn't interacted with her much since she came to Raccoon, but her file was a rave review. She had gotten high recommendations from everyone she had worked with, praised by her last captain as highly intelligent and unusually calm in a crisis.
Well, she would have to be, with her history; her father was Dick Valentine, the best thief in the business a couple of decades back. He had trained her to follow in his footsteps, and word had it that she was doing quite well until Daddy had been incarcerated.... Prodigy or no, she could stand to buy a decent watch.
He silently urged Jill to get her ass into gear and motioned for Vickers to start the blades turning. it was time to find out how bad things were out there.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone