3F Storage, Corridor, Patio (overlooking helipad), stairs to 2F Irons' corridor

From here

Catherine made her way though a door with an odd bolt-lock mechanism from the balcony overlooking the police desk on this third floor area. There was nothing but a musty storage room with tarped up shelves and other miscellaneous material, and she could see that despite not being an art museum for at least a decade, these upper floors still had the former's shell still locked away. She saw a rat scurry under a tarp and rolled her eyes. "Lovely."

Continuing forwards, the lights above began to flicker, but ignored them. To her right a corridor leading to a door locked with a heart shaped design was there, but she ignored it for the door ahead. Upon entering she was in a tight square room with lockers, more junk and a door propped open apparently to let the room ventilate... even with it open, the room was stuffy. She noted a set of stairs heading down which was her goal however...

Bang....bang-BANG!

https://recorporatebattles.forumotion.com/t77-police-backyard-north-parking-lot#1748

Gunshots. She was curious, so she headed out onto the patio which looked over the helipad and the north parking area. They were far off, but she could see the two officers and the woman fighting dogs. She was going to leave them to their fate... but realized she wasn't with Umbrella anymore... she didn't have to think like that. She regarded them again... and told herself if by helping them, even remotely like this, would be to her benefit. They didn't need any virus carriers inside the station, and more of these guys who know how to use firearms... the better for the civilians within.

She took aim with her lowly VP70, a weapon which had a bit of a reputation for either being spectacular, or a shitty blow-back pistol. Still... the weight was familiar in her hand and she used the red glow sights mounted onto the frame to guide her.

With a few trigger pulls, she managed to shoot a few of the zombies, at least knocking them off balance. The dog was too risky... they'd have to deal with that small target on their own. She thought she saw one of the cops looking up at her so she smiled and waved her gun before returning to the stuffy room. She had a job to do yet.

Heading down the stairs, she headed for the Chief's room as planned...

(to here)

(from here)

Damian pushed through the other 'work in progress' storage room, flashlight in one hand, gun in the other. He swept the darker room but saw nothing. "Centipede country in here... noping out of here." He says to himself. The odd fear came from when he was a child, and he sat on a rocking chair that was by the old cellar entrance in his kitchen. He kept rocking while his mother was doing something in the kitchen, when he felt the fuzzy sensation on his arms, and when he looked... the large, fuzzy band aid sized fuckers were all over him and...

He shivered at the memory. "Fuck those things..." he pressed on.

Pushing through the next room, the small landing that reminded him of a high school maintenance room, with a door leading to a patio overlooking the roof and helipad to his right, and to his left, past some lockers, stairs leading down to the Detective Wing and Press Room... as well as Irons' office. He thought he heard footfalls, high heels? Something similar against the tile and wood heading down. "Hello? Identify yourself." He asked calmly, sweeping the light down the stairwell, and when he saw nothing, descended.

(to here)