tastes In art and interior design, which have turned parts of the RPD building into something more like a museum than a working office? Assuming he means to throw his hat into the ring, this reporter - for one - will be looking forward to examining Irons's financial records...
Baocoan Times, September 22,1998
TEENAGER ATTACKED IN CITY PARK RACCOON CITY
At, approximately 6:30 P.M. last night, fourteen- year-old Shanna Williamson was accosted by a mysterious stranger in downtown's Birch Street Park on the way home from softball practice. The man came out from behind a row of hedges at the south end of the park and knocked Ms. Williamson off of her bicycle before attempting to grab her. The teen managed to get away with onty a few scratches, running to the nearby residence of Tom and Clara Atkins; Mrs. Atkins alerted the authorities, who conducted a thorough search of the park but found no sign of the attacker. According to the girl (through a police statement issued earlier this morning), the man appeared to be a transient; his clothes and hair were dirty, and she described a bad odor coming from him, a "smell like rotten fruit." She also said that he seemed drunk, staggering and falling after her as she ran. With the plague of cannibalistic murders from May to July still unsolved, the RPD is taking Ms. Williamson's encounter very seriously; the assailant bears a striking resemblance to eyewitness reports of the "gang" members spotted in Victory Park last June. Mayor Harris has called a press conference for later today, and Mice Chief Brian Irons has stated already that with the first of the newly hired police officers expected next week, regular patrols will extend their routes to include the downtown park blocks...
Chapter One
SEPTEMBER 26, 1998
With the guys waiting outside in barry's truck, Jill did her best to hurry. It wasn't easy; the house had been tossed since the last time she'd been there, the floors were strewn with books and papers, and it was too dark to navigate around the debris easily. That her small home had been violated was upsetting, though not much of a surprise. She figured she should just be thankful that she wasn't really the sentimental type - and that the intruders hadn't managed to find her passport. She grabbed random handfuls of clean socks and underwear in the cramped darkness of the bedroom and stuffed them deep into her weathered backpack, wishing she could turn on the lights. Packing a bag in the dark was harder than it sounded, would be even if one's house hadn't been trashed; but she knew they couldn't afford to take any chances. It was unlikely that Umbrella still had all of their houses staked out, but if there was anyone watching, a light in the window could draw fire.
At least you're getting out. No more hiding.
There was that much. They were headed for foreign soil, to storm enemy headquarters and very likely get killed in the process, but at least she wouldn't have to hang out in Raccoon anymore. And from what she'd read in the papers lately, maybe that was for the best. Two attacks in the last week... Chris and Barry were skeptical about the danger, even knowing what the T-Virus did to people - Barry thought it was some kind of a PR stunt, that Umbrella would "rescue" Raccoon before anyone got hurt. Chris agreed, insisting that Umbrella wouldn't crap in their own back yard, so to speak, what with the Spencer estate disaster so recent. But Jill wasn't prepared to assume anything; Umbrel- la had already proven that they couldn't contain their research. And with what Rebecca and David Trapp's team had faced in Maine... Now wasn't the time to think about that - they had a plane to catch. Jill scooped the flashlight off the dresser and was about to head for the living room when she remembered that she only had one bra with her. Scowling, she turned back to the open drawers and started to dig. She had enough clothing already, chosen from what Brad had left behind when he'd fled Raccoon; she and the guys had been holed up in his vacant house for several weeks, ever since Umbrella had hit Barry's house, and although none of Brad's stuff fit Chris's tall frame or Barry's massive one, she'd been able to make do. Lingerie, however, wasn't something the S.T.A.R.S. pilot had stocked up on. She didn't particularly want to hop