A Star's Descent

By evolution-500

Disclaimer: House of the Dead and Resident Evil are properties belonging to SEGA and Capcom respectively. I do not own any of these characters.

Chapter Two: The Encounter

Rebecca's eyes widened as she gazed upon the man's, or rather boy's, face.

At first, she thought that the stark whiteness of the skin was the result of make-up, but further inspection revealed that train of thought to be false.

The face was strangely lupine, especially with its slightly long, sharp yet straight nose and chiseled features. It was strikingly handsome, if not strangely androgynous, but what made the face lose its attractive qualities, aside from the symmetrical and severe-looking facial scars that adorned it, was the total absence of expression and emotion. Taken together with the dim lighting of the compartment, his features appeared grotesquely reminiscent to waxen death masks that Rebecca had seen on display at Raccoon City's Museum of Natural History.

Tracing her gaze upward, her attention shifted from the flinch-inducing cross-like slit marks to the eyes, struck by their abnormalities. Unusual coloration aside, the irises were what stood out the most to her. Slitted like the facial scars that ran down both sides of his cheeks, Rebecca found herself recalling some of the cats that her mom had worked with at the veterinary clinic.

'Must be contact lenses,' she reasoned nervously to herself.

Bobby Darin's Splish Splash continued to play on a loop, although it was no longer fluid in its presentation. From the sounds made on the speaker, the recorder or CD player onboard sustained damage, though how was anyone's guess. Regardless of the cause, as a result the music ended up intensifying the room's nightmare quality. Parts of the lyrics would often be repeated. The tempo alternated from normal to low pitch. The playful nature of the song and the lyricism of the voice was distorted, transforming it into a sputtering mockery of its original self.

'SPPPPplishing and a SPPPPPplashi - SHIRKK - Splishing and a Spla - SHIRK..SHIING and A SPLA - SHIRK...Moving-SHIRK...moving...moving...' Bobby Darin repeated.

The repetition of the song and the incessant scratching accompanying it was starting to grate on Rebecca's already fragile nerves. Bile slowly started crawl up the back of her throat, though it took considerable effort to swallow and keep the salmon dinner down.

'MOOOVVIIIIING and a GROOOOOVIIIIINNNNGGGUH...'

Slowly, the song became nothing more than a series of grotesque groans, squeaks and cracklings, before finally dissipating into silence. Rebecca released a breath, her knees trembling, swallowing once again in nervousness.

During that extended period of silence, neither figure spoke.

Rebecca felt her heart beat heavily within her chest. He made no movement. He seemed to be studying her, his gaze never faltering from her face, from her eyes in particular. She could almost feel the intensity of his stare. His eyes had not seemed menacing, however. It was a little unsettling. Under normal circumstances, she would have called them kind, gentle even.

His eyes shifted downward.

She frowned. Great, just what she needed, a creepy occultist pervert checking her out.

The girl tried to toughen herself, though her forehead was covered in sweat.

"Eyes up here, creep!" she said in an authoritative voice.

The figure looked up into her eyes.

"You're a...star?" he asked in a quiet and emotionless voice that lacked any sort of distinct accent, though there was some hint of surprise in his tone.

"Huh?" she said, startled.

The figure glanced down again before looking back up to her eyes. Rebecca then realized that he was looking at the S.T.A.R.S. logo on her sleeves.

"Yes, I'm Rebecca Chambers of S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team," she replied, "though that's Officer Chambers to you! Now put down the weapons and kick them aside!"

The figure regarded her. Rebecca thought that she had detected a flash of emotion within his eyes, but it had passed by so quickly that she never had a chance to determine what it was.

'What was that look?' she wondered.

To her, it looked like a combination of both joy and relief, though she was not entirely certain. Brushing those thoughts aside, Rebecca waited nervously as the figure studied her. She thought that he was going to try and pull something.

Instead, to her surprise, he complied with her order.

"As you wish," the figure said, his voice soft yet unearthly.

After he straightened himself, Rebecca studied him carefully. His sloped shoulders revealed to her a person of solemnness. His form, though erect, was tense, as if expecting something to happen at a moment's notice.

She noted how strange his movements were.

The way he would slightly tilt and turn either his head or neck reminded the medic heavily of an animal. To the Bravo, it was if the boy was...feeling...the environment around him, like a snake.

Her attention shifted over to the coat. Rather than having buttons or a zipper, seven buckles held it closed from the top of the torso down to the waist. The buckles inspired feelings of unease, for they somehow reminded her of sutures or medical clamps.

'He must have intended for this sort of reaction,' she reasoned.

"Remove the hood and the contact lenses from your eyes," the medic ordered.

He looked down.

"I'm afraid that I can't comply with the latter," the boy said.

"Why's that?"

"I'm not wearing any. I've always had these eyes...as strange as they may be to you."

Rebecca was taken aback by this revelation. She had heard of all sorts of conditions, but never had she heard of an eye condition such as his.

"I shall, however, do as you ask with the former," he said.

The figure lowered down his hood slowly in compliance, revealing, to her surprise, short yet thick, wavy mane-like hair that was silver in color.

Neatly slicked back with slight sideburns, it gave him a strikingly aristocratic yet feral quality. His ears, which were long and pointed, protruded slightly outward, further increasing the likeness to a wolf. Despite his attempt to keep his hair straight, a few tiny strands of hair covered his short forehead.

For a brief moment, Rebecca felt a certain wave of nostalgia as she studied the youth's face. He reminded her of a dog that she used to love as a kid, a Spitz that used to follow and protect her from bullies.

"Snowball," she unconsciously murmured.

In a bizarrely coincidental act, the boy cocked his head to the side like a dog, puzzled.

For a brief moment, Rebecca was stunned by what had just occurred, but quickly regained her composure, remembering the fact that now was not the time for reminiscence.

'This...monster,' she told herself, 'is nothing at all like my beloved Snowball. He had just killed the passengers onboard. People who only wanted to relax and probably see their families.'

At the mere mention of family, Rebecca thought about her mother and the situation that she was in. She felt her jaw clench, her face heated up. She willed herself not to cry.

"Arms up against the wall, now!" she snapped, transferring that anger onto the albino.

Though Rebecca was far from intimidating, the boy complied with her request. She patted him down, checking for any hidden weapons, all the while keeping an eye on him. The Bravo stopped momentarily as she felt something in his right side pocket. Reaching in, she extracted a thick black wallet.

Rebecca peered into its contents and found the identity of the strange figure before her.

"'Jack Wolf'," she read aloud from his library card. To her surprise, he was the same age as her, their birthdays seven days apart.

"My adopted name," the giant spoke, causing the medic to look up from the card, "though I prefer to be called by my birth name."

"Which is?"

"Star."

"Jack Star?"

"No, just Star."

"Well then, Mr. 'Star', I hope you enjoy prison," Rebecca said hatefully as she cuffed him, "you are under arrest."

Star turned his head to look at her, surprised.

"What for?" he asked.

"Take a guess. You have the right to remain silent," she started.

"I did not kill them," the red-clad giant stated, realizing what she was referring to.

"You have the right to an attorney. If you can't afford an attorney, we will provide you with one," Rebecca continued.

"My fellow passengers and I were attacked."

"Really? That's not what it looked like to me," she said cynically. "Anything you say will be used against you in the court of law."

"What you saw was an act of self-defense. I tried to protect them," Star continued, turning his head away, "only...I failed."

Rebecca hesitated, though she kept her guard up. Though the giant before her was stoic in speech and expression, she detected something else within his tone. It was subtle, but she could clearly detect it. Sadness.

Glancing around uncertainly, the albino's strange gaze swept across the compartment. "I was only trying to search for other survivors. I was trying to help them. I thought I heard someone in here, but it only turned out to be the radio." He shifted in discomfort. "Just when I was about to continue with my search, the bodies started to move and...well..." He cleared his throat uncomfortably as he continued, "...They rose up and started to attack me. It was self-defense, I swear."

Silence.

"...Are you taking any medication that I should be made aware of?" she asked.

Star looked directly over his shoulder and gazed into her eyes.

"No," he said in his quiet, almost monotone voice.

After answering her question, he turned his gaze from her, focusing on the wall in front of him. Rebecca mentally thanked him for averting his eyes, noting how they seemed to penetrate her mental defenses.

Despite their weird features, there was no indication that he was high or drunk.

'And now to test for the latter,' she thought to herself.

After cuffing the other hand, she kept her weapon steady in one hand and brought up a breathalyzer.

"I'll need you to breathe into this," she said.

"I don't drink."

"Just breathe into it."

Turning to face her, he opened his mouth and exhaled into the device. After a few seconds, Rebecca pulled it away and read the results. To her surprise, his blood alcohol read at zero. She then extracted her radio.

"Captain, are you there? Over," she spoke into the radio, pressing down the transmitting button.

"Marini here. We've been trying to find you, where the hell have you been?!" The radio cracked angrily, causing her to wince. It was audible enough for her alone to hear, but barely. She felt slightly thankful for it, though. The last thing she needed was for the prisoner to hear of her humiliating circumstances.

"I have found a stranded train called the Ecliptic Express. There are numerous casualties onboard, but I have detained a suspect. I need assistance. Over," Rebecca replied.

"Ten-four. I'll contact Kenneth and Richard. We'll meet you there, just give us directions," Marini said.

While giving them directions as well as telling him which car she was in, Rebecca kept her eyes on Star. The youth had not moved from his position.

She sighed.

'Good,'  she thought to herself.

"Have you made contact with Coen yet?" Marini asked.

Rebecca felt her heart stop. She had forgotten all about Coen. After berating herself mentally for forgetting the fact that there were two homicidal psychopaths, Rebecca sighed.

"N-not yet, Captain," she replied.

"What about your captive?" the radio cracked.

She looked up at Star's back. "Have you seen a man about five-foot six, mid-twenties, Caucasian, brown hair that's average in length and brushed back? Goes by the name Billy Coen?"

"No," the giant answered.

"Negative, sir," Rebecca replied.

"Hold your position, we'll be right down. And Rebecca, if you ever encounter Coen, be careful. According to the report, he had killed over twenty-three people. Take extreme caution. Over and out," Marini ordered.

Part of her felt sick.

'Twenty-three people?' she thought to herself.

And that was not including the dead MPs.

Rebecca lowered her radio, slightly shook up, though she managed to regain control as she looked at her prisoner.

"Looks like I'll be keeping you company," she said.

"So it seems," Star agreed.

He then turned his head over his shoulder to face her.

"Officer Chambers?"

She tensed.

"Yes?"

"I want to apologize."

"What for?" she asked, confused and wary of her captive.

"For my lack of a proper introduction. You had introduced yourself and I should have responded in kind more quickly. My sincere apologies for my belated introduction," he replied.

Rebecca blinked, surprised by the response. She searched his strange eyes for some trace of deceit, only to find nothing. Turning his face away toward a nearby back window to his right, he stared quietly out at the rain, watching as it pattered down against the glass.

'What an odd person,'  the girl thought to herself.

She did not know what to make of him.

Outside, Rebecca heard a very loud crack of thunder, startling her. Giving it a quick glance before returning her eyes to the prisoner, the medic kept her gaze focused on his immense form, not noticing the very unusual phenomenon that was happening outside.

* * * * *

Forest Speyer snarled in exasperation as he and Edward stared into the smoking mess that greeted them both.

"Shit, this is gonna be a problem," the latter muttered as he waved off the fumes.

From all appearances, the rotors appeared to have been undamaged, but what concerned them was the engine. Removing the panel from the back of the cabin, they stared at the mess that greeted them.

"Goddamn it!" Speyer growled in frustration.

Kevin Dooley peaked over his shoulder as he stood out in the rain.

"A lot of noise I'm hearing. Everything okay with my dear Brigit?" he asked.

"Get fucked, Dooley!" Dewey barked in irritation.

The pilot's face darkened as he raised a finger. "Hey, don't take that tone with me! I didn't deserve that!"

The Bravo co-pilot sighed. "Sorry."

Dooley's muscles relaxed at the utterance. "Can you make repairs?"

"I would, if we had the right tools and parts," Dewey replied.

Speyer growled as he peered at the engine's condition.

"This is bullshit! Fucking bullshit! I had repaired this thing before we took off from base!" he said with frustration as he surveyed the wrecked engine. "How the hell did this happen?"

"Maybe you missed something," Dooley suggested.

The weapons specialist glared up at him.

"Ohh, don't you even think it," he growled.

Speyer, aside from being a weapons specialist and involved with vehicle maintenance, was renowned among S.T.A.R.S. for being a perfectionist, bordering on obsessive compulsive. When he was not having a competition with Alpha's point man, Chris Redfield, at the shooting gallery, he would spend hours just working on vehicles and checking each part carefully. Unfortunately, it was also a reason why he was behind on reports.

"Relax, Forest. He didn't mean anything, did you, Kev?" said Dewey.

Dooley nodded slowly, intimidated by the way the weapons specialist was glaring at him. The Bravo turned back to the engine.

"Whatever. I'm just glad that we managed to get a gyro stabilizer for this thing, otherwise we wouldn't have been able to fly in this weather. Hell, I'm surprised that this piece of shit was even able to land without crashing. What UH-1 model is this, 1960s?" he murmured.

"Hey! Don't talk that way about Brigit!" Dooley snapped protectively.

"Oh c'mon, Kev, even you have got to admit it's crap!"

"It's not that bad! It could have been worse!"

"It could have been a load better!"

"Guys, we should count ourselves lucky that we even have a chopper," Dewey replied.

Speyer gave him a contemptuous look.

"You're right, and look at where it's gotten us," he said before looking back to the engine. "When we get back to the Station, I'm gonna give that fat hog Irons a piece of my mind for 'ironing' out the budget!"

"Fat chance that will do you," the co-pilot replied. "Five bucks say that he'll flat-out ignore you and continue to fondle himself in that creepy room with the stuffed animals."

His compatriots gave looks and groans of disgust.

"God, what's wrong with you?!" Speyer spat.

"So much for my fantasies of Kate Winslet," Dooley muttered. "Thanks to you, jackass, I'm gonna be stuck with that image for the rest of the damn night!"

"Not my fault that we have a freak for a boss," Dewey said with a shrug. "And to think that he wants to be Mayor!"

Speyer cringed.

"Could we just skip the subject please? Maybe have some quiet time?" He growled.

For a few minutes, the trio remained silent until a radio started to beep. Glancing down, the pilot saw the light on his radio flicker as it picked up a signal.

"Dooley, are you there? Over," Marini's voice cracked.

Dooley pressed into the call button.

"Officer Dooley reporting, sir. How can I help?" he asked.

"What's the status of the chopper?"

"Ten-seven. Brigit's totally FUBAR. We're going to need someone to take her in."

Marini swore on the other end. "That's not what I wanted to hear."

Dooley shrugged.

"Well, sorry, but there's nothing we can do. Unless you have parts hidden in one of those pouches you're wearing, I'm afraid we're stuck out here. I'll try to get in contact with HQ and see if they can get someone up here."

"Sounds like a plan. Also, have we received any reports of a missing train?"

Dooley's brows furrowed in confusion.

"No, not at all, sir. Well, uh, not yet. Why?"

Click.

"We just got a Code Ten from the rookie. Said that she found a train north-east of your position called the Ecliptic Express. If what she said is true, we're going to need do a lot of medivacs," Marini explained.

"What are we looking at, train crash?"

Dooley heard him huff on the radio.

"Negative. I think those cultists raided the vehicle. I don't know the details, but Chambers managed to apprehend one of the perpetrators. Aiken, Sullivan and I are regrouping to meet up with her and to see if there are any other survivors onboard. Inform HQ pronto! Over and out," Marini ordered.

As the radio clicked off, Dewey, Speyer and Dooley stood in stunned silence at the news.

"Jesus," the former murmured.

The latter shook his head. "This just keeps getting better and better. I hope they come out alright."

CRACK!

Upon hearing the noise, Dooley looked upward.

"Holy crap, look what's happening to the sky!" the Bravo pilot exclaimed, pointing upward.

The two Bravos stopped what they were doing and turned to where Dooley was looking. All three were at a loss for words.

The clouds were swirling.

At first blush, it looked almost like tornado weather, but there was no funnel shape that would connect with the ground. Clouds swelled and pulsed with a strange energy as pink lightning danced for several minutes along the sky before finally striking the ground thirty feet from the Bravo members, causing them to cuss out-loud. They half expected to be electrocuted, but to their surprise, that was not the case.

"What the hell is that?!" Speyer pointed, eyes wide open.

No one gave an answer.

None of them knew what the hell was going on.

Right where the lightning struck was a strange floating orb that glowed with a sinister aura. The air around it seemed to ionize as the electricity struck around the area repeatedly, causing sparks to fly everywhere.

Slowly but surely, it grew in size.

All three Bravo members backed away a safe distance from the chopper, their arms raised up, their heads ducked down and turned away, wary of this new development.

The earth trembled as something large landed on the ground.

It was too bright to see what it was, but each of them could have sworn that something dropped down from the orb.

The light dissipated, and the forest was once again engulfed in darkness.

None of the Bravo members made a move.

Instead, their gazes were fixated on a dark shape concealed slightly by the shadows. Small portions were made visible by the moonlight.

It was kneeling down, its back facing them.

The clouds draped themselves over the moon. Slowly, the shape, which seemed to be feminine due to the shape of the posterior, rose up, towering over the trio. It stood over nine feet high, though it was slightly hunched over. If it had stood erect, the entity before them would have been at least twelve feet in height.

'Goddamn, this thing puts an Amazon to shame!' Dooley thought to himself.

He also noted that the entity had something in its hands, though he could not make out what it was.

All three of the Bravo members raised their weapons instinctively, unsure of what to make of this gargantuan.

Dooley was sweating profusely.

The flashlights on their pistols illuminated the figure, making the three Bravo members instantly regret doing so. When the entity turned to face them, terror gnawed at their hearts as crimson eyes glared at them with a menacing glow.

None of them expected the sight in front of them. Only a mad man with a degree in engineering could think of this monstrosity!

As S.T.A.R.S. members, they were witnesses to all manners of human evil. This entity in front of them, however, seethed with a sinister, unnatural aura. The red eyes spoke volumes of a mind whose sole purpose was for the most malevolent of designs. They also contained within them a sinister glee.

All three of the S.T.A.R.S. members paled at the entity before them and trembled with terror at the dreadful thing that it wielded within its hands. For the first time in his life, Dooley prayed.

* * * * *

Rebecca had always believed patience to be one of her virtues.

It took a herculean effort on her part to maintain it, especially in the face of such horrifying circumstances.

Trying desperately to put out from her mind the grisly sight around her, along with the awful smell that accompanied it, Rebecca shifted around endlessly, searching for something to focus on, her stomach a massive tangle of knots.

What was taking her team so long?!

Grimacing in disgust at the sight of a woman missing a portion of her skull, she shifted her attention away from it and closed her eyes, taking several small inhalations through her nostrils to avoid passing out.

Calm down, they'll be here soon. Keep calm, keep calm.

Raising her eyes to the looming form of her thankfully cuffed captive, she glanced over his features again.

Sweeping over his facial scars, curiosity renewed as she carefully studied them.

Originally thinking they were ceremonial incisions, Rebecca frowned as she realized her mistake.

Not incisions. More like lacerations due to the jagged and irregular edges.

From the color and skin condition, these were old wounds; how old was a matter of conjecture on her part, but if she were to hazard a guess, they were most likely within the ballpark figure of several years or so, eight being the minimum.

What she couldn't determine, however, was whether or not the wounds were self-inflicted. Regardless, the severity of the marks indicated a level of sadism that chilled her. It was a miracle that the boy wasn't rendered blind.

The medic had not known how long she was staring at them.

"Is something wrong, Officer Chambers?" Star asked.

Rebecca blinked.

"What? Oh, I-I'm sorry, I-I was j-just wondering about your scars," she stammered.

The red-clad giant cocked his head slightly to the side.

"...What about them?"

"It's none of my business. I'm sorry."

"You have no reason to apologize. If anything it should be I for it offends you. You are not the first to be offended. If you wish, I can turn away so that you won't have to see them," Star replied. He was just about to when Rebecca waved with both hands in protest.

"No, no, no! That's not it at all!" the medic assured, surprised by his sincerity.

"Then what is it?" he asked calmly, his gaze fixed on her.

She sighed.

"How did you get them?" Rebecca asked.

He was silent for a moment.

"What for?" he asked.

She shrugged.

"Curiosity. You don't have to answer if you don't want to," she said.

After a brief moment of silence, Star spoke.

"They're... they're marks...made by my...older...brother," he answered, looking uncomfortable.

Rebecca looked at him with surprise.

"Your brother?"

Star turned his face away. Though his face was stoic, his eyes, which he tried to conceal, revealed something that she recognized: shame.

A small part of Rebecca felt sympathy for him. After all, sociopaths usually come from abusive households.

"I'm sorry to hear about what your brother did to you," she said, "I really am. But that's all the sympathy you'll get out of me."

"I didn't ask for your sympathy. You were the one who started to question," Star said calmly and quietly, "though, I...thank you...for the sentiment."

She noted the genuinely gracious tone within his words. They were silent the entire time until the doors from where Rebecca had appeared opened.

Three masculine forms entered the compartment, each that she had instantly recognized. Sighing with relief, she made her way toward them.

* * * * *

Enrico Marini was initially irritated at the girl for straying away from him.

Upon entering the train car, however, his opinion of her changed as he surveyed both the surroundings as well as the casualties, stunned by the carnage around him.

Despite the medic's little goof-up, Marini had to admit that he was impressed with how she kept her cool. A person with a weak constitution would have spewed at this mess. Perhaps she was much tougher than he gave her credit for after all. He watched her diminutive form approach him, offering a salute. Smiling inwardly at her naivety, he saluted back.

"Good to see you, Rebecca," the Bravo Captain greeted.

"Good to see you too, sir," she replied.

When Marini looked over to his other officers, neither responded to her; all attention was placed on the prisoner.

Looking over to where they stared, Marini hesitated, taken aback by the sight that confronted him.

Shrouded in red and gigantic in height, the suspect had a scarecrow-like frame.

His thin long arms were cuffed behind him, inadvertently lending the figure the appearance of a cardinal with its wings folded. The suspect's face, at first mistakenly believed to be a mask, was the color of bone and marked with scars. Even stranger were the silver hair and the eyes that stared back at Marini. Breaking off eye contact, the Bravo Captain nodded to Rebecca.

"So this is the one responsible for what happened here?"

"Yes sir," the medic replied.

Moving his gaze back to the suspect, Marini's eyes narrowed into slits as he started to approach the gigantic figure. The muscles in his face and arms tightening to make himself seem more imposing, he stared up at him.

Despite his attempt at intimidation, however, the suspect stared back at him, seemingly unfazed.

Cat-like eyes avidly scanned his features, as if determined to imprint his image on paper.

Trailing them upward to meet his own, Marini felt a certain level of unease, put off by their directness. There was something about the gaze that seemed a little interrogatory, reminding him of a certain S.T.A.R.S. Captain.

What was with this guy? How old was he even?

Marini noted how young he looked.

He was hesitant about calling him a boy due to his freakish height.

Youth would probably be a better term. Marini exhaled through his nostrils as he nodded to himself.

"My, my, my, look at you. Christ, you're definitely something for the headlines!"

"Biggest cultist I've ever seen, sir," Aiken said in agreement as he circled around the giant. "From the clothing, I reckon he's one of the top dogs."

"I am not a cultist," the albino said with an eerie calmness.

Aiken nodded.

"Oh yeah, right," he said, rolling his eyes. "It's totally trendy to wear red robes and carve crosses into your own face!"

The albino tilted his head in the Bravo's direction.

"If you are to accuse me of practicing a religion, then you should be made aware of two important details. One is my Catholic education, the other is my agnosticism," he replied.

"So, what, you just carved crosses into your face to prove how dedicated you are to your faith, or is it for shits and giggles?"

The red-clothed figure turned away, refusing to answer.

Marini studied him.

"What's your name, boy?" he asked, his voice hard. 

The youth raised his eyes to meet his before giving a slight bow. "My legal name is Jack Wolf, but my birth name is Star."

Aiken sneered.

"'Star'? What were your parents, hippies?" he asked with contempt.

Raising his head, the albino looked directly into the Bravo's eyes, stopping him from making any more remarks.

"I wouldn't know," he stated. "I have never met them."

"Who raised you?" Marini asked, though it sounded more like a demand.

Turning back to him, the albino calmly acknowledged the question.

"My mother, a librarian. Before her, though I was not reared by them, I was associated with t...two other people, one being a ring master of a traveling circus that collapsed, the second being a nun," he replied.

"So the name came from your time at the circus?" Marini deduced, noting how he stammered when he said 'two.'

"My birth name was given to me years before I joined. It was the name 'Jack' that I picked up from the circus."

Ignoring him, Marini turned to Rebecca.

"What happened here?" he asked.

He listened to the young S.T.A.R.S medic as she described what she saw. The more he listened, the grimmer his face became.

After explaining her side of the story, Rebecca pointed to where the albino had placed the blood-covered weapons. Using a handkerchief from his one of his pant pockets, he picked them up by their handles, attentively examining their design and craftsmanship.

"Jesus, look at the size of these pig stickers," Marini said aloud.

"Baat Jaam Do," the youth stated.

"Sorry?"

"That's what the swords are called. In Chinese it translates to 'eight cutting techniques', but they're more commonly known as butterfly swords. They're used mainly for martial arts."

Marini studied him before handing the weapons to Aiken, who placed them beside Rebecca on a nearby chair.

"Right," he said, then looked to Rebecca. "Can I see his wallet?"

The medic complied.

Opening it up the wallet, the Bravo Captain began scrutinizing its interior. Thumbing through the wallet's contents, which consisted of some currency, a train ticket and a library card from something called the Miskatonic Library, he extracted a license for the swords from its pouch.

"How long were you a practitioner?" Marini inquired without lifting his gaze.

"Since I was four, sir."

Briefly raising his eyes, the Bravo Captain heard murmurs escape from the lips of his subordinates upon hearing this new information.

"What I'm hearing isn't making you look good, son. Were you given your Miranda rights?" He asked.

"Yes, and I wish to wave those rights."

Looking up at the speaker, Marini blinked with surprise.

"Are you sure?"

The albino nodded. "My welfare is irrelevant. I am more concerned about the others onboard, you especially. You are all in grave danger."

The Bravos hesitated at the urgency in his tone. Handing the albino's wallet back to Rebecca, Marini gave him his full attention.

"Talk," he ordered.

Aiken looked over at him.

"Sir, he's bluffing, let's just get this guy to the station before his lawyer-"

"He waved his rights, Richard," the Bravo Captain said before turning back to the albino. "Talk."

The youth gave a slight nod and did as he was told.

"I was a passenger onboard when the attack had occurred. I was trying to protect the others, but...they were overwhelmed," he explained, almost faltering for a brief moment.

Marini frowned as he realized where this was headed.

The prisoner was trying to delay them, desperately trying to cover his ass with a flimsy story that attempted to present himself in a better light.

Marini heard similar, if not weirder stories.

Still, he patiently listened.

Who knows, maybe he would get a story to tell his drinking buddies over at Jay's Bar and Grill.

"This attack, had it occurred while the train was active or when it had stopped?" Marini asked, going along with the suspect's account.

"While it was active, sir."

"Who attacked?"

"It was not a person that attacked, sir."

"Then what was it?"

"Leeches, sir."

Marini stared blankly at him.

"Leeches," he said flatly.

The albino gave a slight nod. "Hundreds of them. I fought off as much as I could, but....there were just so many. After the initial attack, the train had stopped. I came here from one of the rear cars to see if there was anyone left alive, but so far it seems that I am one of the few death has not taken. I don't know about the others. I don't know if I'm the only survivor onboard or not. I sincerely hope not, for their sakes," he said the last part softly, almost to himself. The albino then looked over at the cadavers on the floor and gestured to them. "When I arrived here, these bodies rose up and attacked me. They were all trying to latch on and bite me."

The Bravo Captain stared at him as if he was an alien from another planet.

'Well, I guess I got my bar story after all,'  he thought.

The four S.T.A.R.S. members tried not to laugh at the ludicrousness of his words.

Aiken looked over at Sullivan, placed both hands on his face and opened them up, while at the same time making a noise that sounded like a cuckoo clock. The chemist himself let out a cough.

Marini eyed the albino warily before turning to the young medic.

"He didn't give you any trouble, did he?" he asked with concern.

"No, sir," Rebecca replied.

"Why would I harm a comrade?" the youth asked, startling the Bravos. Rebecca stared at the albino, stunned by his comment.

"Excuse me?" Marini gaped.

"Do you know a 'Chief Irons'?" the giant asked.

"Yeah, so what of it? What the hell do you mean by 'comrade'?" he demanded.

Despite his attempt at intimidating the younger man, the albino remained unfazed.

"Forgive me, I didn't mean to mislead you with that comment, but I had wanted to perform the conditions necessary for joining S.T.A.R.S. I have in my breast pocket a letter of introduction from my mother to someone named Chief Irons. It's in the right side," he explained.

Marini frowned.

"Hell of a time to bring that up," he muttered.

The Bravos raised their weapons as Marini approached, wary of their prisoner's still form.

Undoing the straps on the giant's red coat, he pulled it open, revealing a slender though smoothly toned body bedecked in a black formal shirt and pants, his feet concealed within long leather boots, while on his right calf was a holster or sheath, probably for holding the swords.

Reaching in, Marini pulled out a letter sealed within an envelope, along with a yellow paper that he had recognized as a criminal record form.

Signed three weeks ago, the document proved that the albino had a clean background.

After he finished, Marini proceeded to open up the envelope and read it. True to the albino's word, it was an introductory letter, the text written by a typewriter. It listed some of the albino's achievements, which included an Outstanding Achievement Award from St. Michael's Catholic School, a scholarship from the University of Arkham, where he had graduated with high honors and degrees in Classics and Honors Arts, among other things. Marini's gaze lingered on the name of the university.

'Arkham?' he wondered.

A few friends back at the station used to tell him stories about that place.

Arkham was a town in Louisiana, roughly fifty miles east of New Orleans, bordered by the thick forests of Dunswiche to the north and a practically derelict fishing port to the south called Innsmouth. It was partly rural, with a population of fifteen hundred people, maybe less. Marini's colleagues described it as a bizarre throwback to the 1920s in terms of the architecture and clothing style. One would have thought that they had stepped out of a time machine and landed seventy years into the past. None of his colleagues knew the details regarding the region's history. From what they saw, the people were mostly Caucasian with a strong belief in the supernatural. A rather perfect setting for the entity standing before him.

After reading it over, Marini passed the letter along to his subordinates to see if they could find any discrepancies in the information, partially wanting it to be false. Despite their attempts, however, there was no one who was able to dispute its authenticity. Marini sighed. The youth's story about leeches suggested schizophrenia or some other mental illness.

'Hallucinogenic drugs are also a possibility,'  he reminded himself.

Either way, the situation was tragic, especially for someone that had such a promising future ahead of him.

"No idea why you're mentioning this now. Wouldn't have made much of a difference, though, what with all of this." Marini replied as he pocketed the letter.

"I've got to say that you are an enigma, Mr. Wolf," he continued. With the exception of Rebecca, Marini had never in his whole police career met anyone quite like him. From his accomplishments, he could have been a teacher, a scholar even, yet he wished to join S.T.A.R.S.

The Bravo Captain studied the youth, trying to understand him.

What could have possibly allowed for someone so young and promising to perpetrate such startling acts of violence?

The youth said nothing as he listened.

"Your list of achievements leaves no doubt that you are intelligent. I think I know what might have happened. You were enjoying yourself, celebrating the end of exams. Hell, probably overjoyed at the idea of leaving some armpit town in Louisiana to see new exciting places and try things that you were never allowed to do back home."

The albino gave him a blank yet puzzled look.

"Somewhere along the way, you wanted to get a little, you know, loose. Now, Mr. Wolf, prior to your time onboard, did you take any alcohol?" he asked.

"No, sir. I don't drink."

Marini looked at Rebecca for confirmation.

She nodded her head. "I used a breathalyzer on him before you got here. There's no alcohol in his system, sir."

'Scratch that theory,'  Marini thought.

"Have you used any controlled substances? Are you on any sort of medication that I should be made aware of?" the Bravo Captain asked.

"No, sir," the giant spoke.

"Are you sure? "

"Yes, sir."

Marini frowned.

"A pity. Let's get him out of here."

"But I'm telling the truth," the albino said as they started to guide him to the door.

"No, you're just bullshitting your way through and wasting our time."

"I swear on my honor that I never laid a hand on them."

Marini barked a laugh.

"Your 'honor'? That's funny."

"Laughter has no place here. Ridiculous, impossible, it may be, but my account isn't one of jest. I am forbidden to lie," the albino stated solemnly.

"So that's the story, then? Demonic leeches just flew in here, killed everyone onboard, made them into zombies, and then flew back out, leaving only you alone? That's very convenient! Where are they? Are they here?" The Bravo Captain bent down and checked under the seats. "No? How about here?"

He stretched the cushion open and checked again, but found nothing. "If there were hundreds of leeches onboard, where are they? Why aren't you crawling with them? You couldn't have just scared them off!"

The youth flinched upon hearing that, causing a slight break in his stoicism. Marini sighed.

"Save what you have to say for your lawyer," he said calmly.

The red giant stared at Marini.

"There are still people that you need to aid."

Marini listened. The giant gestured with his head in the direction of the rear cars.

"During the conflict, I made a woman and child take refuge in an occupied rest room in the final car. The last I saw of them, they were unharmed. I tried knocking, though I suspect that they were too terrified of me," he explained.

The four Bravo members hesitated. Could this be a trick?

"How do we know that it's not a trap?" Sullivan asked suspiciously.

Marini watched as he shrunk under the albino's gaze

"I have no reason to harm you," he replied before turning back to the Bravo Captain. "You have my word of honor."

After a brief moment of hesitation, Marini relented.

"Aiken, Sullivan, on me. Chambers, stay with him, though be sure to stand by in case we might need medical assistance." He said.

Rebecca nodded.

"Captain?" the enigmatic youth spoke.

Marini turned back to the captive.

"Yes?" he responded.

"Could you apologize to them for me? For unintentionally scaring them?"

Marini quietly rolled his eyes. Wacko.

Gesturing to Aiken and Sullivan, the trio raised their weapons as they headed toward the doors, then paused, lining their backs against the frame before cautiously opening them and slipping through, moving in a precise, organized and coordinated fashion, leaving Rebecca once again with Star.

* * * * *

Minutes passed since the departure of Rebecca's captain. To the young S.T.A.R.S. medic, a minute felt like an eternity.

"How long were you a S.T.A.R.S. member, Officer?" The prisoner asked politely.

She sighed.

"It's my first day, actually," Rebecca replied.

"I see. Things are going well for you so far?" he asked, his face stoic.

"So far," she half shrugged.

Part of her was somewhat bemused by this conversation.

How could this boy be so calm given the circumstances?

"So, you were a graduate from Arkham?" she asked with curiosity.

"Yes, Officer."

"But why come all the way here? Why enter S.T.A.R.S.?" she asked.

"Why did you?" he responded.

Rebecca was taken aback.

"What do you mean?" she asked with suspicion.

Star was silent for a moment before he spoke again.

"I apologize in advance for my bluntness and for my presumptuousness, but you do not seem like the kind of person who would want to join S.T.A.R.S. Your presence seems oddly misplaced," he replied.

Rebecca felt anger build up within her, but she tried to keep it down. When it came to the subject of how she got into S.T.A.R.S., Rebecca was very sensitive about it. Even though favors were called, she had worked like a dog trying to prove her worth, especially when it came to S.T.A.R.S. She was not going to stand back and let some scumbag make her feel low.

"You're saying that I'm not good enough to be a S.T.A.R.S. officer?" she asked coldly.

"Not at all, it's quite the opposite of what I'm saying. I believe you capable of being something greater than that."

She hesitated. Caught completely off-guard by the comment, her anger quickly dissipated.

"Huh?" Rebecca asked dumbly.

"My first thought from your voice alone was as a singer, but that wouldn't do justice to the intellect I see within your eyes. I could easily see you as a doctor. Maybe something more," he explained before bowing his head.

"My apologies for the misunderstanding."

Rebecca stood gaping at him for a few seconds, maybe a minute, weapon lowered slightly, eyes wide. The boy was continually full of surprises.

She overcame her shock and regained her composure.

'Oh, this guy is good,' she thought to herself.

Sociopaths were masterful manipulators.

This guy, she was certain, was no different.

Despite that she had not studied them carefully, she could tell from the level of trauma indicated on the bodies, or what was left of them, that this boy was not ordinary by any stretch of the imagination.

"My reasons are my own," Rebecca asserted, her tone filled with determination. "If you really think that charming me will get you uncuffed, guess again!"

Star blinked with surprise and studied her for a moment. Those strange eyes penetrated hers, trying to find an explanation for her behavior. While the face was expressionless, the eyes were not.

Rebecca shivered.

Her reaction did not go unnoticed.

"Even after my assurances, of both my innocence and the fact that I wouldn't harm a comrade, you still fear me," the giant replied quietly, his tone sad. "I am not the one you should fear."

The sounds of doors whooshing open behind her caught Rebecca's attention. Turning to the source, the girl was greeted with a sight that made her feel ill. She paled as she stared eye-to-eye with Billy Coen.