|Esa||Esa was residing with a leg sprawled across his couch. A set of folders laid behind his leg, half open some closed. Others were on the coffee table. His couch faces the floor to ceiling window panes that extend most of the wall; giving an impressive view of the city of Paris. Today, though no light shined in and Paris was a bleak of gray due to the fog.
A soft sigh escapes his lips as he looks over some of the folders; each having a label from Raccoon Police Department, the National Guard and the Federal Bioterrorism Commission. All different entities, but all had the same person on it - Trixie Mackenzie. He looks back to his computer as he reviews news articles and other information. It would seem the young man was doing some light investigations into her past.
|Trixie||Trixie's life seems to have been a study in tragedy even before the outbreak that destroyed Raccoon City, her last non-government-provided permanent address. Her mother, an Umbrella researcher, died of cancer close to Christmas during her senior year of high school. Her father likewise died near Easter of the same year. A former Ranger, RPD S.W.A.T. officer and, most recently, leader of S.T.A.R.S. Delta Team, he was killed in a training accident that looks more than a little suspicious, even at first glance... his rope, found to be frayed, snapped during a rappelling exercise. No Ranger would use a rope in such condition for any purpose. Suggestions were made that he was very, very interested in Umbrella following his wife's death. It also looks more than a little suspicious that she died of cancer only five weeks after being given a clean bill of health during a routine annual physical that included a full biopsy.
|Esa||"Interesting." Esa mumbled as digs into the family information regarding Trixie via newspaper entries and anything else he could find on the internet. A sad, sympathetic expression folds along his facial structure and he sighs. Another suspected family torn apart Umbrella. Shaking his head, he jots down a things before setting the pencil down. He runs his hands through his hair and stood up.
Grabbing some of the files, he walks over to the kitchen and pulls down a cup, kettle and teabag. Placing the kettle on the stove with water to boil, he opens the tea and sets it inside the cup. Turning, he heads back to the counter and hovers over the files, opening them to inspect them.
He flips through the files casually, glancing over her records, skills and abilities. Achievements, notices of medical conditions; anything that would single her out as bad candidate for the program.
|Trixie||The girl herself seems to have been a fairly typical Army brat and generally athletically inclined; she took up cheerleading in junior high and was co-captain of the squad in her senior year. She also was in the gymnastics program, though she only ranked in the top slot of the second string. She left both behind during the last several months of her senior year, however, to join the National Guard right after her 18th birthday, within a week of her father's death. Graduated in the top half of her class, and a consistent but not constant honor roll student who seemed to have been preparing for college up to that point.
She joined the Raccoon City Police Department after graduation and spent most of six months in the campus police. A photograph of her in full campus PD dress uniform is included in the file, though the fact that she is standing next to a cruiser is curious. Took selection for S.T.A.R.S. and passed in December of that year, and joined Delta Team, the same team her father had led. Chief Irons seems to have contested the decision to admit her to S.T.A.R.S., though not vigorously. There is nothing remarkable after that point until the outbreak.
|Esa||Esa closes the files as the kettle whistles. Turning, he pours the water into the cup and dips the teabag just a little. Her skill set and abilities were prime for the Black Sword outfit. They needed weapons specialist with medium to heavy caliber systems and well, she was a match. To boot, he hadn't, yet, found any connection between her and Wesker. Another check in the prime box.
Turn around he flips open the Federal Bioterrorism Commission. This folder was thicker, and had a few others pertaining to her; mostly he notes a summary of her pre-outbreak. He keeps flipping until he hits the files pertaining the outbreak and begins to read quietly.
|Trixie||The file on the outbreak is sporadic, and mostly comes from her own debriefings and reports from her commanding officer in the National Guard, Major Richard Stadler. A few comments are included from a handful of other survivors she had had contact with, including former RPD rookie officer Leon Kennedy and a young woman named Ashley. In some of the files, no last name is given, suggesting that it had been deliberately hidden. Others identify her as Ashley Graham, the daughter of then-President Graham.
She had been on the edge of the fighting to prevent the Raccoon City Police Department headquarters from falling to the hands of a very large and very disgruntled mob of the city's civil servants, but the numbers had been very badly against the tiny handful of RPD survivors. She was one of half a dozen to have escaped alive, to rendezvous with a National Guard encampment set up in what had once been a large church. A Corporal in the Guard at that time, she had received a field promotion to Sergeant (E-5) and been put in command of the remains of Bravo Platoon... seven soldiers, only three of which were infantrymen of any kind. Most of what follows seems to have put her activity squarely in and around the church, from leading foraging parties to defending the church and its large contingent of survivors.
When the evacuation order finally came through, Bravo Platoon was one of several sent out to scout a clear path to the evac zone, only to be cut off from the encampment by a large horde of infected citizens in varying stages of infection. One of the troops, a Specialist L. Stetson, had fought a suicide rearguard against orders to delay the horde, creating a choke point in a narrow alley and sacrificing the squad's last two grenades and his own life to destroy many of the infected and block their path to his squadmates with debris. The rest of Bravo Platoon had fought desperately to get to the evac zone; in the end, only three had arrived alive to be ferried out of the city.
|Esa||Esa's brows furrowed at the information. He didn't know a lot about the outbreak; just what was given in declassified files and briefing notes. Turning, he picks up his tea and dips the bag a few times before throwing the bag in the trash and sips the tea.
Closing the folder, he grabs the rest loosely and heads to the couch and sits. Grabbing the next FBC document, he reviews the post outbreak and her psychological profile.
|Trixie||Apparently the newly-minted Sergeant Mackenzie had gone regular Army after the outbreak's disastrous conclusion, within a few days of Major Stadler himself. She hadn't been allowed to keep her field promotion, though she had remained in the infantry. Roughly a month later, she had been transferred into the F.B.C., though no clear reason is given; she had not requested the transfer (nothing in the file suggests she had even known of the agency's existence), and the only reason ever stated is that she had survived the Raccoon City Outbreak, suggesting that she possessed valuable experience in the field of fighting bioterrorism. She had been put in the unit's Bravo Team, one of a sizeable collection of Corporals on a team headed by Colonel Wesker and Captain Stadler. Nothing remarkable appears between that time and the unit's posting to the U.S.S. Liberty, when it was deployed to the Mediterranean Sea.
Most of her work in the theater of operations, especially Paris, had been fairly routine, although her experience as a police officer had been useful on the edge of several investigations in the first month of the deployment.
The psych profile is solid enough, though the officer who had conducted it had remarked on the young woman's irritability during the testing; mildly unusual for a 19-year-old soldier, although she had suggested that it may have been a result of the demanding nature of the unit's assignment, or possibly 'cabin fever' from being cooped up on the ship most of the time; much of the first two months of the deployment had been spent in training, with the exception of several incidents of being placed on high alert when others in the unit were deployed under strict secrecy on other assignments, some of which had lasted a week or more. No reinforcements from the F.B.C. were ever deployed, and the unit was stood down after the teams returned.
|Esa||Esa reads quietly, sipping the tea. his head nods slightly as he closes the file. His only concern, it seems was her pull to FBC. Could've been by request of Stadler.. or Wesker. Only one true way to find that out; working with her.
His head nods slightly as he puts the folder away. Argentina would be a good field test of her skills. Later on, he would see where her loyalties lay. For now, he'd watch her; keep an eye on her as a potential Black Sword recruit.
Pulling his cell phone out, he sends a text to Trixie. 'If you want a challenge, meet me here at this day and time.' Sent was information location where Black Sword was to be flown out. Nodding in approval, he slips the phone away. We'll see what her move is, he decides.
|Trixie||One of the folders falls to the floor as the last folder is put away. Several loose items spill out. One is a photograph of Trixie Mackenzie in a makeshift Guard uniform of fraying woodland cammos under S.T.A.R.S. body armor, next to a pretty young man in RPD uniform and a pretty blonde girl who can only be Ashley Graham. Trixie's left hand is filled with a vintage-looking service revolver with the engraving 'Sweet Caroline' on its barrel.
The second is a note on RPD stationary, requesting that Trixie's mandatory transfer into the regular police force from the campus police be pushed back another three months. No reason is given, and it is signed Chief B. Irons.
The third is a photo taken from someone's phone of the inside of a police SUV, apparently from the back seat. Trixie is driving, and a young man of Asian descent in the passenger seat looks distinctly ill. The destruction on the street visible through the windshield suggests that it was taken very close to the outbreak.