|Albert Wesker||It's the night shift for the RPD, and out on the city tonight the Captain pulls another late one, this time pursuing one of his pet theories with the newest S.T.A.R.S. recruit. Wesker's been examining data collected from police reports and animal control regarding 'rabid' animal attacks, missing (and mauled) pets (and a child or two), and other such uplifting stuff-- it's been used to identify 'hot zones' of activity around the city. Subsequently, it's old-school varmint duty.
This late night, one of the S.T.A.R.S. SUVs purrs along the streets of Raccoon City, driven by said Albert Wesker, with the rookie posted to the spotlight mounted on the roof. Resting on the passenger side, in case of contact, is a Remington 700 in Police Sharpshooter configuration which mounts a formidable suppressor. The patrol objective is simple, spotlight suspect neighborhoods and search and destroy any infected predators. It's no real shock that one of the prioritized zones leads them towards the outlying residential developments of Raccoon City that lie in the shadow of Arklay Mountain, is it? Neighborhoods suddenly plagued by encroachment of unusually aggressive coyotes or wild dogs-- or perhaps that and more, the reports are mixed, but undeniably building.
The vehicle cruises slowly up the street between two such upper middle-class cul de sacs, a light smirk crossing his face wryly as Wesker glances over to Caldwell, "What you signed on for, kid?"
|Prestige William Caldwell||Mounting the spotlight as well as any man could is a huge hulk of an officer standing at 6'6, was one William Caldwell. He was busy keeping an eye out in case of any suspicious activity or just in general people who needed help. That was his job after all wasn't it? Protecting folks? Caldwell looks over to the Remington briefly, surely they wouldn't need it, right? Then again, flashing back to what got him on board the STARS team in the first place, they might actually need it. Those weird shadows..crazy fanged women, it was all so strange. William looks over to Wesker and blinks "Signed on for sir? I'm signed on to help people in need, and to do my duty to the people. If you mean in terms of position, I don't really have one, i'm more of a jack-of-all trades. I can do any task you need me to do, sir!" he gives a salute to Wesker and then waits for Wesker to speak again, keeping an eye on the spotlight while also trying to maintain eye contact with Wesker. The result is...rather hilarious to say the least.|
|Albert Wesker||Wesker's smirk turns into a full-blown chuckle, with no shortage of genuine mirth alongside the darker, sardonic note. His first impressions of Caldwell had been of a man with -far- too much youthful idealism and optimism for the moment he's chosen to join the team likely to be on the front line of it all. "Keep your eyes peeled, kid. If we don't find anything to shoot, I'm a shitty cop." The Captain's tone rings with that same sarcasm-- no, he isn't bad at his job. "I hope that's true, though, Caldwell; losing Bravo Team now is a blow. We all have to be at the top of our game. Have you talked to many of the others yet, kid?"
The SUV turns out towards the Arklay line, and then turns up a side road bordering the forests, where new construction has etched out overpriced houses for everyone who doesn't mind living adjacent to their neighbor in near-identical units. There's an Umbrella icon in the development signage. "Mark my words, Caldwell-- this shit'll be everywhere, every year that goes by, here on out."
|Prestige William Caldwell||Caldwell was in fact, a man with too much idealism and optimism. But he looked up to Wesker so being on a patrol with him was like a dream come true. "Yes, sir! I'll keep my eyes peeled!" were they any more peeled his eyeballs would rip right through his eyelids, like in that one episode of Spongebob. "I've seen Benny while I was on duty sir, we met at a cafe. Other then that, no sir. Just you and Benny I think. I haven't even met my Team Leader yet. You're the one I look up to most though, sir! I hear you're a war hero! And from all the good you do around the city, you're like..my idol! I'd follow you anywhere sir, even to hell and back!" he looks over towards the Umbrella icon and blinks "Umbrella seems to be branching out way past it's limits, sir." as he's looking towards the Umbrella signature of the housing he spots the glint of eyes "Sir...Coyote near the housing, maybe it's one of those aggressive dogs we've gotten reports about?" he gets his sidearm at the ready on Wesker's word.|
|Albert Wesker||Wesker shakes his head, and focuses his eyes on the road, on the areas swept by the armored vehicle's headlamps. It's a glance, a moment's illumination, but truth be told... it's not the scattering of coyote eyes along their course that is worrisome, they've lived among city centers for years. It's the reported behavior, the implicit pattern of growing numbers. The Captain just has to confirm his suspicions, and besides; "War is hell, kid. That's why they dress it up so nice and shiny. One of these days, humans should try something better." It almost sounds like idealism in return, from the elder Officer.
"So. You've lived around Raccoon all your life, right? Or move here?" Making small talk for a detail he may or may not have retained from the file. "Ever catch sight of the coyotes? They're sneaky bastards." The Commander pulls the vehicle off to the side of the road, an expanse of lots for sale across from the growing construction. "Grab that rifle and keep an eye out, let's see if we're in trouble."
Wesker rolls his windows down, draws his Samurai Edge, and discharges two rounds into the dirt at the side of the road. Any normal canines? They tend to run. As the engine is cut off, the eerie sound of howls, slightly off-key, somehow wrong, echoes off the snow-swept mountains.
|Prestige William Caldwell||Caldwell keeps his eyes on the spotlight, looking over the coyote as Wesker nearly drives right past it. "I understand, sir. I don't have nearly as much experience as you. Humanity could be so much better if we just work together. You know?" he nods to Commander Wesker "I've lived here my entire life, sir. I joined the RCPD as soon as I was of age and here I am today." he looks over towards the rifle and grabs hold of it, preparing it and making sure it's loaded, aiming out the side window with the spotlight providing some guidance. "I got a real bad feeling about this, sir. I had an encounter with something strange like this back before I joined STARS."|
|Albert Wesker||"One of our.. many failings, I fear." Wesker observes more quietly, the echo of the parabellum rounds dissipating across mountain and forest. "There are too few searching out some greater good; and even fewer truly looking to help the common man." It's almost admirable, really. "I noticed the lapse in your file." and the leverage that brought the young officer up in the world so suddenly. "Tell me about what happened?" They have a few moments, at any rate. The initial howls die off, and barring periodic yelps here and there in the distance, all is quiet, all is still.
A chill wind whips down the road, blustering about the sleek SUV and its inhabitants; Wesker's foolishly left his window down, but his custom navy-and-black S.T.A.R.S. armor is winterized, these months. He keeps his sidearm at the ready, leaving the bolt-action marksman to the rookie. Really, chambered in .223, it might be grossly insufficient for what Wesker has reason to believe might be out in those woods; but they're just taking a look, right?
The first glimpse of another coyote comes some moments later, in a seemingly still breath, Caldwell would spotlight a ragged-looking, enraged canid charging from a nearby gnoll.
|Prestige William Caldwell||Caldwell doesn't hear the blatant suspicious shit Wesker is talking about, probably due to the howling wind outside. "I'm just doing my best to help people out, sir." he looks over at Wesker and begins to speak "Well sir...It happened a few weeks ago before I got transferred to STARS. I was responding to a call in a house for a burglary, the door was unlocked and open, which was odd so I radioed it in. I went inside and went to go see where the burglar was." he took a deep breath and kept an eye on the coyotes before continuing "I saw blood...lots of blood..still fresh in fact, and I found out why soon. There were..." he shivers violently. "Some sort of monsters, sir. A shadowy thing hiding in the darkness, a woman with razor sharp teeth crawling around like a spider, and a child looking like thing with black tar substance on it. I took care of them by myself but...the family was torn to shreds by the woman from what I saw..." he gulps and continues. "She kept talking about me being fed to her..babies...she clearly had lost her marbles but I don't know what would drive a human to cannibalism, especially such gruesome horrid scenes as I had witnesses, sir. It's unforgiveable what she did and I hop she rots for what she did to those poor people. A higher up came with a SWAT team afterwards, congratulated me, got me checked out by an on-site doctor which was...odd all things considered, then volunteered me for STARS." he watches the coyote charge and takes a potshot at it with the remington, being blown back by the recoil "FUCK!"|
|Albert Wesker||Caldwell's .223 round glances off the infected beast's flank, initially working little as a deterrant, and mostly resulting in a spatter of rotting blood as the enraged creature slams ferociously into the side of the SUV, and scrambles upwards, trying to climb-- and then rushing a quick arc around the vehicle, preparing to leap. Below and beside the parapet-manning officer, Wesker kicks open his door and steps out into the night, tracking another target from the other side and firing, once, smooth on the trigger.
There's a sharp yelp that breaks the night, and another too-lean, too-angry canine form skids to a sharp stop, careening to the ground violently around the impact force applied to the back of its head. "You good up there, kid?" Wesker calls without more than a glance over his shoulder, "These monsters, not as bad as those, right?"
|Prestige William Caldwell||Caldwell watches as his round does nothing besides more or less piss off the beast even further. He watches as it slams into the side of the SUV, throwing him against his seat and him emitting a grunt, cocking the hammer of the rifle and readying himself to take another shot. Until Wesker domes the creature and he breathes a sigh of relief, slowly relaxing in his seat "Yeah..should be good. Sir, i'm worried about what might be happening around here. These things..they're not normal rabies or any other disease out there. No creature would just take a shot and only get pissed off at me. You know?" he lowers himself into his seat and takes a deep breath. "Spoke to a Virologist the other day, sir. If you wanted to hear about what i've found out."|
|Albert Wesker||Some say the third time is the charm, but for Caldwell, it's the second, the bolt-action rifle's report muffled even in the night as the round strikes the coyote squarely and drops the beast; though the ravenous, blood-sick creature continues to thrash and snarl, even as its limbs cease to respond with any semblance of efficiency. Two more 9mm rounds sound from Wesker's position, muzzle flash lighting the night as another coyote is dropped outright, and a second stopped in its tracks, struggling to remain upright; until a cinematic execution ends that turmoil in a spatter of brain matter on the street.
For the moment, the attack seems to have abated, and after a moment's vigil, Wesker slips back into the driver's seat and starts off towards the nearby houses, "Which virologist did you consult with?" the Captain additionally inquires, "But yes, tell me." From the tone, there's the clear implication Wesker can guess-- they're out here to confirm suspicions, not arouse them.
|Prestige William Caldwell||Caldwell slowly cocks the hammer again, ejecting the old shell and waiting for more to come. When they don't he slowly relaxes until Weskers bullets drop another coyote. He shivers violently and slowly relaxes in his seat. Grunting again. He rests his rifle against the holster in the SUV and looks over at Wesker "I don't remember his name, but he worked for Umbrella is what he told me. Said he'd never seen anything like it. He was checking out the hospital and when I came in, there were so many infected people there. Some were in comas, others had flesh dropping off their bodies. He told me the weird thing was nobody was losing fat, I talked to Rebecca about this and she said it might be something that had happened in the mountains, like the water supply or something. But it's weird because Umbrella has security up there, sir." he takes a deep breath before continuing "Anyway, he told us that theres never been a virus like this before, it clearly isn't rabies, and it isn't any other known type of virus. From what he told me a quarantine is inevitable and we'd better clear out if we are to survive. I for one am staying right here to protect this city until theres nothing left to protect, sir." he offers a quick salute to the commander. "He's already booked it so theres nothing else I can talk to him about, sir. But I look forward to fighting and dying with you if you too are going to stay, which would be a huge morale boost if you did stay, sir."|
|Albert Wesker||"We're police officers." Wesker agrees simply, "We work to contain this insanity until we can't anymore, and then we get out of here with everyone and everything we can salvage." There's a great deal of value still in Raccoon City, after all. "I have no intention of dying here, if I can avoid it. But I've never been known for running from a crisis." None of the other information seems to surprise the Captain in the least. "From what I've gathered, you don't want to get bit. Even scratched isn't great. And aim for the head, eight times out of ten. I've got a little bit of intel from Umbrella's commando team I'll be briefing S.T.A.R.S. on-- we have to hold the line as long as we can." Because -if- they can may be fast becoming a foregone conclusion.
As they drive into the neighborhood, the headlights soon illuminate a grisly sight-- what looks to have once been a hound munching on something in a front lawn, alongside another coyote. 'Something', in this case, turns out to be what looks like a struggling person. "Make it a good shot, take the one that's left." Literally and figuratively, as Wesker violently sideswipes the coyote on the right, running the thing over with the resilient SUV's hefty weight.
|Prestige William Caldwell||Caldwell nods to Wesker "That's why i'd follow you to hell and back, sir. Even if Raccoon City falls, i'm willing to help you with whatever you need." he smiles and agrees, saying "Nobody had intentions to die here, sir. but I think we may have issues if the STARS teams are all that's left when the city goes to hell. I have enough ammo to kill a couple of these damn things, but pain just seems to piss them off, sir." he looks in horror at the person being devoured by coyotes. "Sir, coyotes don't normally run into fucking neighborhoods to eat people, this disease isn't natural, sir. At least not from any way I can see it happening." He raises his rifle and pops off a shot at the coyote, trying to aim as accurately as possible|
|Albert Wesker||"No shit." On all counts. They're not enough to handle this, and none of it is 'normal' by most mens' measure. In fact, Caldwell would see it some moments after Wesker, likely sometime amidst taking the second shot at the injured dog-- this one not a coyote, but someone's pet, collar and all, just as ravenous as the rest. Their victim is not even what it appeared-- not a struggling civilian but a mindless, snarling remnant thereof, somehow still (or once more) living despite the savage damage done by the biomass the predators have already consumed. The Captain snaps his combat knife out of its protective hard-sheathe, kneels next to the struggling infected, and abruptly executes the poor soul through the back of the skull, severing the brainstem and dealing untold trauma to the zombie's grey matter.
"Though some would argue this -is- a perfect embodiment of nature. Or maybe just human nature." It doesn't stop the wasteful spectacle from disgusting Wesker a bit, though. Beyond them, in the nearest house, someone-- or something-- has been roused, and pounds relentlessly on the front door. "Regardless.. we don't have enough officers to deal with this already." Especially with the rate of desertion as they've recently begun to realize some pieces of what they're dealing with.
Wiping the viscera from his blade and snapping it back into place, Wesker climbs back into the vehicle and nods to Caldwell, "Get on the speaker and call out for survivors to signal us." Clearing every house to be sure might appeal on some idealistic level; but it's a long night ahead of them.