Thomas was lying on a bed in the precinct, his pistol lying on his chest next to his shield. He ran one of his slender fingers over the barrel, knowing he'd have to use it pretty quick. The sound of gunfire filled the halls of the building, the police and S.W.A.T. officers were fighting off the creatures, but he knew it wouldn't last forever. Thomas hit the release on his Beretta, checked the clip and saw it was full, then slammed it back into the pistol. He sat up, chambered a round, then stood up. He didn't holster his sidearm, he knew he'd regret doing that. He rubbed his face with his left hand, then felt his Asp on his side. He walked out of the room and started going down the hall at a casual pace. Officers were running from room to room frantically, gunfire coming from each of them. 'Shooting out the window is pointless unless you know it's being broken into...' he thought, 'They're just wasting precious ammunition.' Thomas reached the stairwell that led down to the first floor, he looked down it and saw several officers having a mental breakdown. He shook his head and walked into a room on his left. He was met by the smell of blood, along with the sight of several wounded men being treated by what few doctors were here. 'Triage,' he thought. 'At least we can help them, maybe we can make it through if we get them back on their feet.' He noticed his Captain at one of the windows. He walked over to him and said, "Detective Thomas Zyntur reporting in. What needs doing Captain?"