Chapter 1: Vulture

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Four months later

"Hey Elliot," I smiled, nodding toward the officer as I passed by his desk. "Back from vacation already? I thought we were rid of you for at least another few days."

"And miss out on seeing you train a rookie? Not for all the pesos in Mexico, chica. I can't wait to see the poor bastard's face when he gets a load of you," He said, giving me his signature crooked smile

"Alright. Feel free to go back on vacation, jackass," I grumbled. He snickered, swatting at the hand I dropped onto his shoulder. When his fingers brushed against my bare skin I looked down at his hand.

His skin was cold, freezing in fact. He cocked a brow, confusion written on his face. "Are you—" the words sliced off as I glanced down at my hand as his fingers moved aside, revealing the thick smear of blood dashed across the back of my hand his touch had left behind.

I flinched back, dropping the folder in my grasp as I moved to wipe the blood from my skin. My back collided with something as my fingers wiped at the stain.

"Whoa, whoa. You good?" a deep voice said behind me, the sound so familiar yet foreign all the same. I turned, my wide eyes finding Marvin, staring with a brow cocked and his coffee mug held up and out of the way. My gaze whipped back down to my arm, and my lips parted as clean skin greeted me. But...

I blinked, looking back at the man in front of me. Flushed skin, alert eyes. "Are you okay?" I muttered, my eyes roaming around his body looking for...I don't know what.

"Are you okay?" He asked, frowning slightly as he lowered his coffee mug again and looked at me like I was a couple cans shy of a six pack.

"She's finally losing it!" Elliot announced, leaning back in his chair to scoop up the folder I'd dropped, "Nice one, butterfingers." He flipped it open as my fingers brushed along the skin where the smear of blood had been just a few seconds ago–Or at least where I thought It had been?

Elliot cleared his throat, summoning the attention of a very unamused Douglas standing at the printer.

"Leon S. Kennedy," Elliot announced, reading aloud from the folder he now had open on his desk. "21, top of his class, yada yada yada. Oh! Look at Prince Charming here," Elliot said, flipping to the photo attached to the second sheet of paper. The name tapped on something deep within my brain, like a warm whisper on the shell of my ear. I glanced over Elliot's shoulder toward the folder.

"Is that him?" I asked, blinking at the photo. Dirty blonde hair that fell just past his cheekbones, a welcoming smile and stunning blue eyes but...something wasn't right. His smile was too youthful, his eyes too bright. Wasn't he meant to be...older? Why would I even think that?

"I don't know. You tell me, trainer," Elliot drawled.

"Oooh, let me see," Rita said, stepping in from the hall with a steaming mug in her grasp. She glided past me, but her scent of lavender and roses didn't drift with her. Instead the curling waft of rot followed, like when you find roadkill left to simmer on a summer afternoon.

My eyes scanned her body, my hand shooting to cover my nose—but she looked fine. There was no staining on her royal blue uniform, no look of distress or movement that would suggest an injury.

She didn't pay any attention as I continued to stare while she leaned forward to glance at the folder. "Oh yes, very pretty. Maybe he'll have a thing for hot older women," She said, smirking into the rim of her mug before sipping her coffee.

"There's hot older women here?" Elliot said as he made a show of scanning the room. "All I see is Mykie and you, you old bat."

"You're about to get this coffee thrown in your face, Elliot," Rita huffed, scowling at the man as he threw his head back and laughed. Rita stalked toward her desk, throwing him a middle finger as she settled into her chair.

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