Resident Evil: Double Amber
A fanfiction by the Hyperactive Hamster Of Doom

Summary: Only one person in the RPD believed the STARS members' account of the Arklay mansion incident. That person was Lieutenant Amber Bernstein. This is her story…

Rating: PG-13 Category: Horror/Angst

Disclaimer: I don't know why I bother doing these. No-one reads them, except maybe lawyers. But just for form's sake, I'd better tell everyone that I DO own Resident Evil, but only because I bought a copy of the game from my local computer store. If I didn't own a copy of Resident Evil then I wouldn't have played it and wouldn't know anything about it, so I wouldn't be able to write fanfics about it…

Okay, I'll clarify. I played no part in the design or production of Resident Evil. I did not come up with the idea. The copyright does not belong to me. I do not own the locations, or Umbrella, or the RPD, or the T-Virus, or any of the characters in this fic except a couple of extras and of course Amber Bernstein, who is mine. And anyone using her without my say-so is going to get their ass kicked through the nearest wall.

Author's Note: Amber Bernstein made her debut in my first Resident Evil fic, "Resident Evil: Project Lucifer". This is the story of what happened to Amber before she ran into Jack and Lisa, starting with the aftermath of RE1 and ending where Project Lucifer begins.

Oh, and as well as being a prequel of sorts to Project Lucifer, this is also something of a companion fic to noctorro's "Act 4: Biohazard: The Prelude To Horror", which is excellent and should be checked out - it's a must for Project Lucifer fans. Many thanks to noctorro for letting me borrow Kenny. Thanks also go to Metal Harbinger for letting me borrow David McGraw and Jake Cavanaugh, and to the TREX for the loan of Sean Hayter.

Warning: This fanfiction contains scenes of explicit violence and gore. What were you expecting, fluffy bunny rabbits? Come on, this is Resident Evil, for crying out loud. If there are any fluffy rabbits in this fic, they'll probably be eating someone alive…

Resident Evil: Double Amber
by the Hyperactive Hamster Of Doom

Dedicated to noctorro, Metal Harbinger and Desertcross4, three incredibly talented fellow authors who wrote my humble characters into their own stories with great skill and panache. I hope you both enjoy this story as much as I've enjoyed yours.

And to Matthew, as always.

1: The Last Goodbye

Downtown Raccoon City
Friday 24th July, 1998

Amber opened her eyes. Sunlight was streaming in through the windows of her apartment. It looked like it was going to be yet another beautiful day in her hometown, Raccoon City.

She glanced at the little alarm clock on her nightstand. It was just after six. She rolled over and saw the sleeping form of her boyfriend, Joseph, who as usual had stolen all the bedclothes.

"Hey, Joe," she yawned. "You awake?"

An unintelligible grunt from somewhere in the pillows; that, presumably, meant no.

"'kay. I'll make breakfast."

Amber sat up and swung her legs off the end of the bed. Questing feet found their way into a pair of pink fluffy slippers and made their way over to the bedroom door. She donned a pink bathrobe hanging on the back of the door, and disappeared into the bathroom.

A shower followed, then the application of toothpaste to toothbrush, and toothbrush to teeth. Amber smiled brightly at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, and proceeded to brush her hair.

She hated her hair. Joseph, however, loved each and every one of the long strawberry-blonde curls. He was always telling her never to cut her hair shorter, or let it grow longer, or dye it or straighten it - that she should just leave it exactly the way it was.

It was all right for him, she thought, struggling to free the hairbrush from the clutches of several damp curls. He wasn't the one who had to restore order to the chaos every morning. Curls were a nightmare to brush. Every tangle got caught, and the frustration of having to prise the hairbrush from her hair every five seconds elicited screams of rage and frustration that occasionally brought Joseph running into the room, to check that she wasn't being murdered by an axe-wielding maniac.

Amber went back into the bedroom in search of her uniform. Amber the average-Joe citizen always left her clothes in untidy heaps all over the bedroom floor, but Lieutenant Amber Bernstein, who was proud to be part of the Raccoon Police Department, took good care of her uniform - it was currently hanging up in the closet, clean and fresh and ironed to perfection.

Her boyfriend, Joseph Frost, was also part of the local police force - more specifically, he was a member of the RPD's Special Tactics And Rescue Service. Captain Wesker, who had personally set up Raccoon City's branch of STARS, had recently promoted him from Bravo to Alpha Team; Joseph had come home beaming with pride.

When Amber had finished dressing, she took a long, lingering look at the sandy-haired young man sleeping in her bed. A smile crept across her face. She never got tired of looking at Joseph, even though they'd been together for some time now.

"I love you," she said, and kissed him on the cheek. He didn't move a muscle; he was a sound sleeper, and probably wouldn't be awake for at least another hour.

The first thing that Amber did every morning when she went into the bright little kitchen was turn on the radio. She liked the local radio station, Raccoon FM, even though they played a little more Country and Western music than she thought was strictly necessary.

"Good morning, Raccoon City!" said the radio presenter cheerfully. "It's six twenty-five a.m. and it looks like another beautiful day here in our beautiful town! Here's the early breakfast news with Katie Gibbs…"

The second thing that Amber did every morning was make coffee. Black with two sugars for herself; milk and three sugars for Joseph if he was staying over. She opened the fridge to get out the milk.

"Less than 24 hours after being dispatched to Raccoon Forest to investigate the disappearance of a group of hikers, the STARS Bravo Team has mysteriously vanished. Residents in the nearby mountain town of Arklay reported seeing a helicopter go down somewhere over Raccoon Forest, but were unable to give police an exact location. Martin Levitt reports."

Amber almost dropped the milk carton in shock. She put down the carton rather shakily on the counter and stood where she was, listening to the radio and feeling cold dread slowly envelop her heart.

"Well, I'm here in Arklay this morning, where several members of the public are claiming to have seen a helicopter go down over the forest, towards the base of the Arklay Mountains. Accounts differ as to whether or not the helicopter exploded on impact, but we won't know for certain what happened until a backup team is sent into Raccoon Forest to investigate. According to the RPD, the STARS Alpha Team is being dispatched this evening to begin the search. Back to you, Katie."

"Thank you, Martin. In other news, there have been more dog attacks in and around the Raccoon Forest area…"

Amber turned off the radio, not wanting to hear any more. She swallowed, hard. She didn't know how she was going to tell Joseph what had happened, especially since no-one seemed to know what had happened. The Bravo Team helicopter had gone down - what did that mean? Where were they now? Were they alive or dead? And why had their helicopter crashed?

She pulled herself together and finished making the coffee. There were sounds of movement coming from the other room now - the creak of floorboards, a yawn, footsteps heading towards the bathroom. It seemed that Joseph had just woken up.

Pushing a stray curl out of her face, Amber started to make breakfast. It was usually Joseph's job to make breakfast, but today she felt like doing it herself.

No more cereal left. But that was all right. She wasn't in a cereal mood today. Toast? No, Joseph didn't like toast. But he did like - yes, that was a good idea.

Amber trawled through the cupboard, letting out a shriek as a jar of peanut butter hurtled towards her head. She caught it just in time, and put it back on the shelf, only to dislodge a box of cookies instead.

"Cookies?" she said, frowning and picking up the box. "I didn't buy any cookies…"

But of course she'd asked Joseph to go grocery shopping for her this week, while she went to the hair salon – and Joseph had a sweet tooth. Which explained the unexpected presence of cookies.

Amber shrugged, and pushed them aside. She'd eat them later and then deny that they'd ever existed.

The sound of running water and a burst of song indicated that Joseph was in the shower. He was into old Joni Mitchell songs at the moment; this time it sounded like "Big Yellow Taxi".

It was a nice song. It was also a pity that Joseph was tone-deaf. Still, she loved him, even though he stole all the bedclothes, and couldn't sing, and filled her kitchen cupboards with junk food – and left the syrup bottle in weird places like the fruit basket.

"Oh, Joseph," Amber sighed. "Why can't you just put things back where you found them? No wonder I can't find anything around here…"

Joseph emerged a few minutes later, wearing the same jeans and rumpled shirt that he'd thrown on the floor last night; he was drying his hair with a towel. His face lit up at the sight of her. Amber in turn felt her heart give a little flutter, just as it had done when she met him for the very first time.

"Morning, beautiful," he said warmly. "You sleep well?"

"Like a baby," Amber replied.

"Babies stay awake half the night," Joseph pointed out.

"So did we, if you recall," said Amber, smirking. "I heard the old lady downstairs banging on the ceiling and yelling at us to shut up."

Joseph snorted. "Huh. Yeah. Banging on the ceiling with one hand, and using the other to hold the water glass to the ceiling so she can hear better. I know her; she's one of my grandma's friends. Nosiest woman who ever lived."

He sniffed the air.

"Hey, something smells good!"

"Yeah, I made breakfast," said Amber.

"Aww, Ambie, that's sweet. You shouldn't have," said Joseph. "It's my job to make breakfast. You know I hate the whole "sweet demure little woman cooking and cleaning for her manly man" thing. It's so old-fashioned."

"Who's demure?" laughed Amber. "Joe, I don't cook for you because I have to. I do it because I want to. I love you. Besides, I like seeing the smile on your face when you find out I've made you pancakes."

Joseph beamed.

"You made me pancakes? I love pancakes!"

"You see? Because I love you."

"I love you too, babe. Man, these look good…"

She watched him eat for a while, smiling outwardly to conceal the worry within. All the while, she kept trying to find the right words to break the news. She didn't know how she was going to tell him what had happened, but she knew what his reaction would be.

"Joe?" she ventured at last.

"Hmm?"

"I - something bad's happened to Bravo Team," she blurted out.

Joseph abruptly stopped eating. The fork he was holding slipped from his hand, bounced off the table and landed with a clatter on the tiled floor.

"Their helicopter went down in Raccoon Forest last night," said Amber, trying not to hear the words coming out of her own mouth. "I heard it on the radio just now. They're sending in Alpha Team to investigate tonight."

"Oh God," said Joseph, very quietly. His face was ashen.

There was a long and terrible silence.

"Maybe we should go to work," said Amber, to break the silence. "Chief Irons says he never tells the press everything. Perhaps they know more about what happened down at the precinct."

Joseph nodded.

"Yeah," he said slowly. "Yeah, that's a good idea."

He pushed his plate away, the rest of his breakfast left uneaten. If Amber hadn't already noticed that he was shaken, then that was definitive proof - normally Joseph had a voracious appetite and couldn't be put off his food by anything.

"Sorry, Amber," he said, with an apologetic glance at his plate. "I'm not really hungry any more."

Amber just nodded. She understood perfectly.

"Keys," said Joseph suddenly.

He stood up and made his way to the living room. Amber watched from the doorway as he searched the room for his car keys.

"They're on the coffee table," she pointed out.

Joseph nodded, turned around, and picked them up, along with the jacket that he'd left draped over the back of the couch the previous night.

"Let's go," he said.

They left the apartment and went down the stairs in silence. Joseph looked shaken, as if he'd just escaped death in a terrible car crash.

"Are you all right?" said Amber, as they reached the last step.

He nodded glumly.

"That's an interesting way of shaking your head," said Amber.

Joseph didn't smile; he seemed too wrapped up in gloom to even notice that she'd said anything. He simply crossed the hallway, his shoes squeaking on the black and white floor tiles, and he opened the front door.

They emerged, blinking, from the dim light of the apartment building and stepped out into the early morning sunshine. They hadn't even finished going down the steps when Joseph let out a groan.

"My car!"

Joseph's car had been pristine when he'd parked it outside the apartment building the previous night, but now it was covered in graffiti from top to tyres. Amber knew right away what had happened: a gang of bored teenage skaters with a set of spray-paints and too much time on their hands had seen the car and descended upon it like vultures flocking to a dead horse. "Tagging" was commonplace in downtown, used as a way for the gangs to mark their territory.

She bit her lip and glanced awkwardly at Joseph. Her boyfriend was shaking with suppressed rage - but it wasn't suppressed for very long.

"Those little bastards tagged my car!" he yelled. "Just look at it! Do they have any idea how much it costs to get a new paint job these days? I'm going to have to get the whole thing resprayed!"

Amber said nothing. She privately thought that the rainbow of graffiti was a big improvement on the bland green-grey paint job, and it had definitely been done by kids with a certain degree of artistic talent - these were no mindless scrawls but multi-toned pieces of urban art, the kind that you might find on the cover of a hip-hop album. Nevertheless, she made some vaguely soothing noises and walked up to the stricken car to survey the damage.

"Looks like the PriMadonnas again," she reported. "The Sk8boarders don't tag cars any more; they've been in enough trouble with the Chief lately. And Underworld have been lying pretty low ever since that Russian kid got shot a couple of years back, so they wouldn't want to attract any more attention to themselves."

"How do you know it's the PriMadonnas? Could be the Street Rats," said Joseph.

"No, it's not the Street Rats. They've never given us any real trouble. They're only kids anyway. A bunch of them get hauled in off the street every now and then, but you know how the Chief is - nine times out of ten, they didn't do anything except get on his nerves. Usually we just send them straight back home to their mothers."

"You sure it's not them?" said Joseph suspiciously.

"Positive," said Amber. "Come and look at this."

Joseph hurried over to the other side of the car and stared at the spray-painted symbol covering one of the doors.

"So what?" he said.

"This is the PriMadonna's tag," said Amber, pointing to the symbol - a "P" and "M" in shocking neon pink, with a small oval above them and a squiggle that looked like a 3 on either side, with one of the 3s reversed. "The P and M are self-explanatory, and the wiggly lines and the circle are meant to represent a halo and angel wings. Now if this was Underworld's work, then this tag would be a dark blue circle with an arrow underneath it, pointing up, and the Sk8boarders' tag is an interlocking "S", "K" and "8" in bright green. And the Street Rats don't tag anything outside of Coburg. Definitely the PriMadonnas."

Joseph made an animal noise in the back of his throat.

"I'm going to kill those little - "

"It's okay, Joe," said Amber reassuringly. "I know where they hang out. I'll go and have a word with them after work, okay?"

"You think they'll listen to you?" complained Joseph. "They hate cops. All the skater gangs do."

"Oh, the PriMadonnas are good kids, most of them," said Amber. "They just need a little discipline and some better ways to direct their artistic talents. And they do listen to me, mainly because I'm one of the few cops in the RPD that doesn't treat them like scum. But enough about skaters. Come on, we'll be late for work…"

Still grumbling, Joseph got into the car. As Amber got into the passenger seat and put on her seatbelt, she caught a muttered phrase about skaters and vandalism.

"I wouldn't complain too much if I were you," she said. "They like you."

"They tagged my car because they like me?" said Joseph shrilly.

"Sure," said Amber. "If they didn't, there'd be bricks through the windows and you wouldn't have a stereo any more. They probably just figured that your car needed a makeover. And you have to admit, it does look a lot more interesting now."

"They could have asked first," said Joseph sulkily. "I'd have got them to do a portrait of Tupac Shakur on the hood."

They drove the rest of the way to the precinct in silence. Amber stared out of the window, watching downtown Raccoon City roll past her.

And I thought it was going to be such a good day today…

After some minutes, they arrived outside the wrought-iron gates of the Raccoon Police Department.

"You get out and report for duty, Ambie," Joseph told her. "I'll go round and park the car, okay?"

"Sure," said Amber, and kissed him on the cheek. "See you in a minute."

She unclipped her seatbelt and got out of the car. Joseph pulled the door shut behind her, and drove off in a cloud of exhaust fumes. Amber hid a smile when she caught sight of the slogan that had been scrawled onto the rear of the car: "If You Can Read This, You Just Got Tagged By The PriMadonnas".

"Nice touch," she said, grinning.

Amber turned around, opened one of the gates, and walked through into the courtyard. As she crossed the gleaming flagstones, she looked up at the police station. It was a large, imposing building with a vaguely Gothic architectural style, although she suspected that it was a fairly recent construction. It was only three storeys high, but somehow it looked taller. She privately thought it was a rather ugly building - it gave her the creeps, especially when she was on the night shift, but it wasn't too bad in daylight.

Above the doors, the flag with the RPD emblem was fluttering in the breeze. Amber smiled a little when she saw it. She opened the front doors and went inside.

Whether it was bleak midwinter or the height of summer, it was always chilly inside the RPD's lobby; it was as if the whole room had been built to function as the building's air conditioning system. Even from here, Amber could see the secretaries, pretty in short-sleeved blouses and summery skirts, shivering in perfect unison at the front desk.

She'd seen this place five times a day, every day for the past three years, but without really knowing why, she stopped to look around.

The lobby was a huge room, three storeys high, with bare stone walls that seemed to emit cold. Sunlight was streaming in through a stained glass window set high in the opposite wall, leaving little spots of colour on the tiled floor, but not letting in enough light to stop the room from looking gloomy.

In the centre of the room, placed in front of the big semicircular front desk where the secretaries worked, was a marble fountain with a large statue of a woman carrying an amphora. Water was trickling from the amphora and into the large pool beneath it. The woman's face was beautiful in a fixed and emotionless sort of way, reminding Amber vaguely of an angel statue that she'd seen in a cemetery once.

Looking up, she saw the mezzanine landings on the two upper floors, bordered with fine oak balustrades and unusually busy at this early hour. Looking back down again, she saw the RPD emblem emblazoned across the floor in front of the fountain. It was starting to look a little faded now, thanks to the dozens of people who made their way back and forth across the lobby every day.

"'Scuse me," said someone gruffly behind her, and Amber jumped. An old and rather plump man carrying a mop and bucket was trying to get past her. She relaxed when she saw him.

"Oh, it's you, Gus," she said, relieved. "You scared me."

"Sorry about that," said Gus. "Nice day, ain't it?"

"It's beautiful outside," agreed Amber. "Gus, did you hear the news on the radio this morning?"

"Yep," said the old man, unbuttoning his worn overcoat and draping it over the railings by the steps. He dunked the mop into the bucket of discoloured water and started swishing it around on the floor. "Don't know much more 'bout it than you, though. Bravo Team's chopper went down over the forest and they're sending out a search party to look for 'em tonight. Shame, really. I know one of the guys from Bravo Team. Name of Richard, I think. Nice guy. Always walks round the other way if I've just mopped the floor."

He shrugged. "Well, can't stand around and chat all day. These floors don't clean themselves, y'know. Have a good day, kiddo."

"You too, Gus," said Amber, walking over to the reception desk.

There were three secretaries on duty at the reception desk today, all of them trying to pretend that they weren't freezing cold in their pretty summer clothes. Amber approached the one that looked slightly less busy than the other two.

"Morning, Bernice," she said, leaning casually on the desk. "You hear the news this morning about Bravo Team?"

Bernice nodded her head, accidentally dislodging her glasses. She picked them up off the counter and cleaned them with a handkerchief, then set them back on the end of her nose.

"Yeah, I heard. Their helicopter went down, right?" she said.

"Yeah. Does anyone here know anything more about it?" said Amber.

"Well, the rest of the STARS team do, I guess," said Bernice. "They're in the conference room right now being debriefed, but don't disturb them. Captain Wesker gets pretty tetchy when he's interrupted. Boy, I'd hate to be the one who gets on his bad side."

"Same here. Thanks, Bernice. Keep up the good work."

Bernice nodded again, and returned to her paperwork. Amber headed for the double doors near the desk, her thoughts entirely occupied with how she could gatecrash the STARS mission briefing without incurring the wrath of Wesker.

"… package for Mr Albert Wesker."

Amber turned round to see a courier dropping a large parcel onto the reception desk.

"Oh, thank you," said Bernice, looking a little flustered. "I'm afraid he's busy at the moment, so if you could just leave it in his in-tray, that would be really - anyway, you go through that door into the office, the door on the right leads into the evidence room, go through there and into the hallway, then up the stairs, right to the end of the hall, through the door next to the statue, and the STARS office is the first door on your left. I'll just sign for the package - "

She reached for the clipboard in the courier's hand, but he snatched it back abruptly.

"Instructions were for Mr Wesker to sign for it personally," he insisted.

Bernice looked even more flustered.

"Well, um, he's in a meeting right now… I really shouldn't bother him, it's very important, and I'll get into trouble if I - "

"Look, lady, I don't have all day," snapped the courier. "Just get him in here to sign for this package so I can get out of here. I've got a whole bunch of packages waiting outside in the van - they won't deliver themselves, you know."

"Please, sir, we're very busy today!" protested Bernice, her cheeks flushing slightly as she raised her voice. "It's really not possible to - "

"I'll do it."

Both courier and secretary turned to look at Amber, who suddenly realised that the words had come out of her own mouth.

"Yeah," she repeated slowly. "Yeah, I'll do it. I was on my way over there anyway. I'll take the package over to the conference room and get Captain Wesker to sign for it. Then I'll come back and you guys can both get on with your work."

"Oh, would you?" said Bernice, her shoulders sagging with relief. "Thank you so much, Amber. That would be really great."

"Thanks, miss," said the courier, handing the package and the clipboard over to Amber. "Mind the package, please, it's fragile."

"Okay," said Amber, as she headed for the door. "I'll be right back."

The office on the other side of the door was usually quiet at this time of day, but now it was bustling with activity, as if the entire police station was gearing up to the STARS Alpha Team's rescue mission. Several of the police officers greeted Amber as she walked through; others merely nodded and returned to their work, hunching over their desks and concentrating on the mounds of paperwork that seemed to be everywhere.

As she headed for the door at the far end of the room, she noticed one of the officers - a broad-shouldered African-American man with the beginnings of a beard growing on his chin - writing on the chalkboard near the door. She recognised him instantly; it was Marvin Branagh, who was by now both a colleague and an old friend.

"Hey, Amber," he said pleasantly. "You're working in the east office again today, by the way. Just thought I'd let you know."

"I'm actually meant to be delivering this package to Captain Wesker, but thanks anyway," replied Amber. "What's the announcement for today?"

"Oh, they've told us the date for this year's civic celebration so we can start working out the crowd control arrangements," said Marvin, finishing the task, and he put the chalk down. "It's a little later than usual - September 29th this year. I preferred it back when it was called the Raccoon Festival instead of the Michael Festival, but never mind. At least people still get a day off, huh?"

"True," said Amber. "Anyway, got to run. Captain Wesker needs his parcel. Catch you later, Marv."

"Yeah, catch you later," agreed Marvin.

Amber opened the plain metal door and went into the evidence room. It was a small, dingy room with bare stone walls and a bare floor, and a whole bank of metal drawers containing various pieces of evidence, the more valuable or hazardous of which had been locked away in drawers which required combinations. Not intending to stay there any longer than she had to - for some reason, this room made her feel nervous and uncomfortable - Amber hurried through the other door and into the hallway beyond.

On arrival in the hallway, she was greeted with the familiar smell of old central heating turned up slightly too high, and instantly felt better. This part of the building wasn't terribly attractive - it had been painted in what she thought of as institutional colours, cream and dark green, intended to make people feel more comfortable but instead having the opposite effect of giving the place an uncomfortably clinical feel - but at least it was better than the creepy evidence room.

At the end of the hall she could see the creaky wooden stairs leading up to the next floor, which were straining under the weight of a policeman laden with a thick stack of files and photographs. He paused on his way down to scratch his nose, then carried on down the stairs and immediately turned left towards the RPD's darkroom.

"Hi, David," she called, but her greeting went unanswered. Amber shrugged, and went through the door on her left. This brought her into another corridor painted in the same institutional cream and dark green colours, with the same smell of old central heating.

Sun was streaming in through the dusty windows but someone had turned the lights on anyway - how pointless, she thought, and flicked the light switch on her way past. The soft buzzing of the fluorescent lights immediately stopped, and now she could hear a murmur of conversation. She was approaching the conference room at long last.

Amber turned the corner and met with something unexpected and solid; the shock of running into it made her jump. The package flew from her hands before she could react.

"Whoa!"

The other person involved in the collision dived to retrieve the package, catching it just in time. He straightened up, apologising profusely, and handed it back to her.

"I'm really sorry - oh, Amber, it's you," he said, suddenly recognising her.

Amber recognised him too. Wide brown eyes, light brown hair neatly combed back, and a near-permanent sheepish, slightly apologetic expression… it couldn't be anybody else, especially not in that horrible yellow jacket he was always wearing. It was Brad "Chickenheart" Vickers, the STARS Alpha Team pilot and resident scaredy-cat.

"Hey, Brad," she said, trying not to smile. "Hope I didn't scare you."

"No - no, it's okay," he said hastily. "Oh, man, what a day! I'm late again, my car wouldn't start and now Captain Wesker's going to have my ass for breakfast for being late, and if that wasn't bad enough, I'm running into people like a dumbass - sorry, Amber."

"It's all right, Brad, really," Amber insisted. "Don't you worry about it."

Brad nodded and edged away towards the double doors of the conference room. He listened carefully to the voice on the other side for a few moments. When he heard a pause, he straightened up and, taking a deep breath, opened the door and walked in.

The conference room reminded Amber more than a little of the fourth-grade classroom at Raccoon City Elementary - there was the chalkboard at the end of the room, the little desks in neat rows, the big desk at the front, the American flag in the corner. The only real differences were the podium at the front, the coffee machine near the back, and the posters on the walls, which depicted wanted criminals instead of multiplication tables.

As Brad walked in, the other STARS members, sitting at their desks like overgrown schoolchildren, looked up curiously at this late arrival. There was Chris Redfield, young and confident, his dark hair gelled into spikes at the front; Barry Burton, a gruff but kindly man in his forties, stocky, bearded and well-built, with brown hair that was receding slightly; Jill Valentine, her best friend, a slender young woman with bright blue eyes, delicate, pretty features and a small heart-shaped face framed by short brown hair; and of course there was her beloved Joseph, sandy-haired and handsome.

Right at the front of the room, standing at the podium, was the STARS captain, Albert Wesker. A tall, muscular man with blond hair and eyes that were permanently hidden behind a pair of designer sunglasses, he was surveying his audience with his usual dispassion. When he looked up and saw Brad, however, his casual indifference crystallised into icy, withering disdain.

"Ah, Vickers," he said, almost lazily; his tone of voice put Amber in mind of a sunbathing crocodile. "How nice of you to join us. Your punctuality is an example to us all."

Brad was sweating nervously.

"Uh… thank you, sir?" he hazarded.

The crocodile went in for the kill.

"Explain to me, if you will, why you insist on turning up fifteen minutes after everyone else," Wesker said sharply.

"I - I - " stammered Brad, who looked as if he was about to burst into tears.

"He's fashionably late, sir!" quipped Joseph, breaking the tension.

A quiet ripple of laughter went through the other STARS members.

"Then he's clearly the height of fashion," Wesker responded smoothly, without missing a beat. "Let's just hope he's not trying to start a trend."

Brad breathed out, visibly relieved. He glanced over at Joseph and smiled weakly in a silent show of gratitude.

"Sit down, Vickers," said Wesker impatiently, gesturing to a seat.

With a squeak of terror, Brad rushed over to the little desk and sat down, almost falling off his seat in his hurry to do what he was told.

Wesker rolled his eyes.

"Anyway," he said sharply. "As I was saying, the attacks appear to have been carried out by - "

He looked up again, and this time he noticed Amber standing by the open door. She shrank back nervously in the doorway as he turned towards her.

"What do you want?" he snapped, clearly irritated by this new interruption.

"Package for you, Captain Wesker," Amber babbled, hurrying forwards into the room and thrusting the package right under his nose. He snatched it abruptly from her hands and placed it on the desk beside the podium.

"Thank you," he said stiffly. "You can go now."

"And if you could - s-sign this, please," said Amber, proffering the clipboard with shaking hands.

Wesker wrenched the clipboard from her unresisting fingers and glared at the papers it was holding with undisguised hatred. He picked up a pen from the desk, scribbled a signature, and handed back the clipboard.

"Now go away," he told her simply.

Amber couldn't follow this instruction fast enough. Her shoes skidded on the floor as she scrambled to leave the room, and she fell forwards; shrieking, she managed to grab a desk just in time, and she hauled herself back to her feet. Flushing furiously, she hurried towards the door, trying not to see the sympathetic looks of the STARS members, or the very faintest hint of a smirk on Wesker's face.

The door slammed behind her. Amber leaned against the wall and buried her reddening face in her hands, silently cursing herself for being so afraid of Captain Wesker that she'd made a complete fool out of herself in front of the entire STARS Alpha Team. She wondered if this was how Brad felt all the time, and suddenly pitied him. No wonder he was so skittish…

She shook herself. She was keeping the courier waiting; she had to get that clipboard back to him as soon as possible, so that she could get on with her own work.

Deep in thought, she wandered back to the reception desk and handed the clipboard back to the courier.

"You took your time," he said irritably.

"Sorry," said Amber right away, although she hadn't really noticed the comment; her mouth was operating entirely on automatic, while her thoughts worked quietly away inside her head.

"Thanks, Amber," said Bernice, as the courier walked away. "It was sweet of you to do that. I know you're probably busy."

"Don't mention it," said Amber vaguely. "Catch you later…"

xxxxxxxxxx

Some time later, Amber arrived at the east office. She paused briefly at the coffee machine outside in the hallway, then opened the blue double doors and stepped into the room.

The office was very film noir - lots of wooden panelling, a few bookcases, some old-fashioned filing cabinets and rows of wooden desks groaning with paperwork. There was a smaller, separate office built into this one, separated from the rest of the room by partitions of wood and frosted glass, and a door that could have been taken straight from the office of a 1930s private detective. There was someone working in there right now, visible only as a silhouette on the other side of the glass.

A few weak rays of sunlight were filtering into the shadowy room through gaps in the Venetian blinds, making the dust motes in the air glitter like gold dust. The only sound was the rustle of paper, the occasional cough and the slow whump, whump of the ceiling fans disturbing the air.

Picturesque though it was, Amber didn't like this room much. She preferred the west office, which had bare walls and harsh artificial lighting, but also a more relaxed and jovial atmosphere - the officers who worked there were a friendly, happy bunch, always telling jokes and playing pranks on each other. Here, the officers were solemn, serious and unsmiling; most of them didn't even bother to look up as she walked into the room, although one or two gave her the tiniest of nods to acknowledge her presence.

"Hi, Amber," said one of the other officers at last. "Slight change of plan today; Jodie just came back from sick leave, so the rota's been changed again. You're on patrol in downtown this morning instead."

"Oh," said Amber, taken aback. "I thought I was meant to be here all day today."

"No, only for this afternoon. Jodie'll take care of things for you here while you're on patrol. If you could just finish up the paperwork from yesterday before you leave, that would be great, because then I can get it all filed away before the Chief comes down here asking if I've done it yet."

"No problem, Alan," said Amber, taking a sip of coffee and grimacing slightly. It was still a little too hot. "I'll take care of that right away."

"Thanks."

"You'd better tell Marvin if the rota's been changed. I don't think he knows."

"Hell! I forgot about Marvin!" exclaimed Alan, smacking himself in the forehead. "I'd better find him and let him know, or the poor guy'll be sending people all over the place and nobody'll be where they're meant to be today. Thanks for reminding me, Amber."

He rushed breathlessly towards the doors and hurried out of the office. The hush of the room was briefly disturbed by the doors slamming behind him, but within seconds everything was exactly as it had been before he left.

Amber took a seat at the same desk that she'd occupied the previous day, and cast her eye over the paperwork that she'd left unfinished. It was fairly straightforward stuff, and wouldn't take long to fill in, she decided.

Within half an hour she was on her way out of the police station. The weather was still fine, and getting warmer; it was going to be a beautiful day today. Bathed in warm sunshine, her spirits high despite the vague worry about Bravo Team's disappearance at the back of her mind, Amber headed towards downtown Raccoon City.

xxxxxxxxxx

Amber's patrol had been pleasant and uneventful. She'd been greeted warmly by all the usual people from downtown, nothing unusual had happened, and she had even been given a free can of soda by the owner of Wrigley's Grocery Store. She'd also run into a few of the PriMadonnas and given the kids a gentle but firm lecture about "tagging" other people's property. The message had definitely been received and understood; the teenagers had looked suitably chastened afterwards, with meek apologies from those who hadn't been staring down, red-faced, at their sneakers.

On her return to the precinct, she was greeted by another huge stack of paperwork on the desk in the east office. Silently cursing Alan and his tendency to pass large portions of his workload onto his colleagues whenever he got bored of doing paperwork, she attacked the piles of paper with a ferocity that surprised the other officers; Amber was known throughout the precinct as a happy and sweet-natured soul, and it was rare to see her in a bad mood.

She was so deeply absorbed in the long and arduous task of clearing the paperwork off her desk that the tap on the shoulder startled her. She looked up sharply and saw the friendly face of Officer Timothy Lonsdale, one of her best friends from the precinct, who was working nights this week. It was then that she realised that light was fading from the sky and ebbing away from the room.

"Amber, everyone's gone home," he said gently. "You should too - your shift ended hours ago."

"Oh," said Amber, suddenly dazed. She rubbed her eyes. "Okay, Tim, I'll go take a break."

"The rest of the STARS are getting ready to leave, you know," Tim told her. "You want to go and see them off?"

"They're leaving already?" said Amber, stunned.

"What do you mean, already?" laughed Tim. "It's eight-thirty. That's the time they're meant to be leaving. I think it's you that's behind schedule, Amber. Go on, go see them off and then clock off for the night."

xxxxxxxxxx

There were quite a few people on the roof of the RPD building, crowding around the helicopter to watch the STARS Alpha Team leave. As well as Chris, Jill, Barry, Brad, Joseph and Captain Wesker, who were all making final preparations for their rescue mission, the Chief of Police, Brian Irons, was there, watching with a faint smile on his face.

Amongst the other bystanders were two work-experience kids from the local high school and, notably, Officer Kevin Ryman, who was watching enviously as the STARS team prepared for their imminent departure. Amber knew that Kevin's application to join STARS had been turned down, and that he had been bitterly disappointed by his failure to join the RPD's finest.

Doing her best to avoid attracting Captain Wesker's attention after what had happened earlier, Amber went over to the STARS members to wish them luck. To her relief, Wesker didn't even notice that she was there.

"Hey, Amber," Chris greeted her. "How's it going? You look tired…"

"Thanks for the compliment," said Amber, grinning half-heartedly. "Just came up to wish you guys good luck on the mission. Hope you find Bravo Team okay."

"You and us both," said Barry abruptly, and Amber wondered what was wrong. He seemed distracted and slightly unsettled, as though something was bothering him. She put it down to worry about the missing Bravo Team.

"Don't worry, Barry, we'll find them," said Chris brightly. "We've never failed a mission yet."

Barry said nothing; he drifted away to help Brad and Joseph load equipment into the helicopter.

"Don't know what's eating him," said Chris, shrugging. "He's been like this for days now. Guess he's got problems at home or something. I know I can't concentrate on anything if I've fallen out with my kid sister."

"How is Claire, anyway?" asked Amber. "I haven't seen her in a while."

"Oh, she's fine," said Chris. "Been busy at college, the usual stuff. She just got herself a new bike, too. Well, I say new, it's a second-hand one, but she's pleased with it. She says she's working her way up to a Harley-Davidson, though I think she'll have to wait a while for that one."

Amber smiled.

"Yeah. You take care, Chris."

"Will do."

Chris hurried away to give Brad and Barry a hand with a heavy piece of equipment; Wesker had left them to their own devices for now and was striding over towards Chief Irons, presumably to discuss the mission with him.

Jill was leaning against a wall, smoking a cigarette and watching the smoke curl up into the evening air. She blinked, then smiled as she noticed Amber.

"Hey, Amber," she said. "Come to wish us luck?"

"Of course," said Amber. "You're my best friend, after all. And I couldn't let Joseph fly away without a good-luck kiss, could I?"

Jill grinned.

"Course not," she said, taking another long drag on the cigarette.

"I thought you said you were going to quit," said Amber accusingly.

Jill suddenly looked guilty.

"Well… yeah," she said, rubbing the back of her neck. "I stopped last week and I was doing pretty good until I heard about Bravo Team today. After the mission briefing I got so nervous, I had to borrow a couple of cigarettes from Chris. Truth is, I'm scared. You heard the stories about what's happening out near Raccoon Forest? Attacks by dogs and stuff, and then that woman hiker they found in the river, the one who looked like she'd been eaten?"

Amber nodded.

"I'm worried about Bravo Team - Enrico, Forest, Richard and the others," said Jill. "And especially Rebecca. I know all the rumours about cannibalistic cults are probably just bullshit, but jeez, Rebecca's only a kid, she shouldn't be lost in the woods if there are dangerous animals around."

She stubbed out the cigarette on the wall and flicked the butt away.

"I hope we find them. I really do. If they all come home safe and sound, then I'm giving up smoking for real. No more cigarettes ever again. That's a promise."

"I'll hold you to that," teased Amber.

Jill shrugged.

"Go right ahead," she said. "I'd do anything to have them all come home safe, and if that means giving up smoking in return, then I'll do it. They're my friends and I just want them to be all right."

There was a long silence. Then, without a word, Amber stepped forward and hugged Jill.

"You take care of yourself out there, Jill," she told her. "Don't get kidnapped by cannibals, because you know I'll have to come after you if you do. You're my best friend and I don't want you to get eaten."

Jill returned the hug.

"Don't worry, Amber," she said. "I'm not going to end up as a Jill sandwich any time soon. I'll come home safely and we can have lunch somewhere to celebrate."

"I'll hold you to that too," said Amber.

"Jill, we're almost ready to go!" called Brad from the cockpit of the helicopter.

"All right, Brad, I'm coming," called Jill, and she hurried over to the helipad. Amber watched her go with increasing trepidation. Her best friend and the man she loved were heading into the dark heart of the woods, where absolutely anything could be lurking. She didn't have a good feeling about this mission.

Joseph was sitting on the helipad beside the helicopter, staring into space. Only when Amber knelt down and tapped him on the shoulder did he look up.

"Hey, Ambie. Thanks for coming to see us off," he said with a smile.

"Oh, I couldn't let you go off and save the day without saying goodbye now, could I?" said Amber, ruffling his hair affectionately.

"Mmm," said Joseph, kissing her on the cheek. "You're so sweet."

"It's what I do best," said Amber, turning up the corners of her mouth to disguise her growing anxiety. "Good luck, sweetheart. Hope everything goes okay."

"Sure it will," said Joseph. "It always does."

He hugged Amber, or at least her head and shoulders, then reached into a pocket and pulled out his lucky red bandanna.

"Here, let me," said Amber, taking it from his hand.

"Thanks."

Amber started to tie the bandanna neatly around Joseph's head. As she did so, however, she found herself overwhelmed by a deep feeling of dread. The missing STARS members were in grave danger, she knew it instinctively; she knew, too, that some of them would probably never make it back alive. She started to cry.

"What's the matter, baby?" said Joseph, concerned.

"I'm scared," sobbed Amber. "Something terrible's happened to them out there, I just know it!"

"Then we'll just have to do what we can," Joseph told her. "We can't do much more than that. And you know we'll do our best to bring them safely home again. Now don't cry any more, okay?"

"Okay," said Amber, sniffling. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, then carried on tying Joseph's bandanna.

"Officer Bernstein - Officer Frost," said someone, kneeling down beside them.

Amber and Joseph both looked to see who the newcomer was; it turned out to be Kenneth Feng, one of the work experience kids from Raccoon City High. Amber quite liked Kenny, who was friendly, helpful and very hard-working, but at the moment she didn't feel terribly inclined to talk to him. She knew that she looked a mess, with bloodshot eyes and her mascara running, and she didn't particularly want any of her co-workers to see her like this. Still, she liked Kenny and didn't want to hurt his feelings by ignoring him, so she made an effort to welcome him.

"You shouldn't be here," she added. "This isn't some regular mission. This is a rescue mission."

"It's my job to help around wherever I can," Kenny said earnestly. "And after what happened here last night, I just wanted to make sure - "

Last night. Oh, yes. Last night, when Bravo Team had left the precinct on their mission, Kenny had reported seeing Captain Wesker paying a little too much attention to the helicopter. She and the others hadn't thought anything of it at the time. After all, the STARS captain was a serious man and very thorough, so it would be natural for him to want to check that the helicopter was in perfect working order before Bravo Team left. However, she couldn't help wondering what Wesker had really been doing, now that Bravo Team's helicopter had inexplicably crashed in the forest… perhaps they should have paid more attention to what Kenny had told them, and checked the helicopter themselves. If they had, Bravo Team would probably be safe at home tonight.

"We should've listened yesterday," she interrupted him. "And I'm sorry we didn't. But we won't be making that mistake again. And I don't want to put you in a situation like this. You should be at home, where it's safe."

Kenny nodded silently and walked away, a sheaf of mission briefing notes tucked firmly under his arm. He handed one to Joseph as he left, then went round to all the STARS members and made sure that they each had a copy of the notes. As Wesker began talking to the STARS members, Amber watched Kenny drift away from the group and head downstairs into the RPD building.

One by one, the STARS members climbed up into the helicopter. Wesker went first, as usual, followed by Chris and Barry. Jill paused to say goodbye to Amber, then joined her comrades in the helicopter.

Joseph was the last to go. He leaned out of the open helicopter to say a few words to Amber before he left.

"Bye, sweetie. I'll be back soon, okay?" he told her. "You go home and get some rest. I don't want you waiting up for me like you did last time. You've got work tomorrow."

Amber nodded, although she knew that she wouldn't be able to sleep properly tonight until she knew that all of the STARS members were safely home again.

Joseph was about to duck back into the helicopter when on a sudden impulse, Amber grabbed him by the face and kissed him.

"I love you, Joseph Frost," she told him.

"I love you too, Amber Bernstein," Joseph murmured in reply. "Don't forget that."

"I won't," Amber promised. "I won't ever forget that."

"Time to go," announced Barry, gently pulling Joseph back into the helicopter. "See you soon, Amber."

The circle of people standing around the helicopter expanded outwards, backing away to a safe distance as the helicopter rotors began to turn. Stepping backwards, Amber caught a final glimpse of the STARS members inside the helicopter before it lifted off the helipad and soared away into the darkening sky.

Amber watched it until it was too dark to spot the imperceptible black speck in the starry night, and then she went back inside the police station. She knew that going home was pointless, because she would only sit on the couch, listlessly watching late-night TV until Joseph came back, so she decided that she might as well return to the paperwork that she'd left downstairs in the east office.

Little did she suspect that her simple, pleasant life as a police officer was about to go horribly, catastrophically wrong…