survivalspecialist

[survivalspecialist]

She was probably right about him breaking his hand on the elder Redfield, though he wasn't above giving it a try for her anyway.

He wasn't going to be tripped up so easily though and didn't even flinch as she reached past his head to pull free the knife she'd thrown. "Oh I know you can," he replied easily, "but what kind of a man would I be if I didn't at least offer to defend your honor?"

He grinned as she teased the knife against his decidedly unarmoured chest and it widened as she remained close and held him in place by his beltloop. A hand rose just a little and made a twirling motion in the air, apparently happy to allow for the conversation's direction to shift away from the overbearing elder sibling.

"Not long enough Red, how about you turn back around so I can finish?" he suggested with a brow raised, very very aware of where her hand was, thanks to that finger curled into his beltloop. He held still despite the temptation to shift his hips lest he give away where his attention was.

She wasn't hard to find. Once he'd stopped off at the office and overheard talk about some kind of sibling blow-out - the subject of which he hadn't been privy to, it subsequently narrowed down the number of likely places that he'd find her. Since he wouldn't put it past the eldest Redfield to actually storm into the ladies bathroom if Claire tried to shelter there, Leon's next best guess was precisely where he found her.

Even Chris wasn't stupid enough to push the envelope when Red had a gun in her hand.

There was something particularly attractive to the sight, in Leon's eyes though. The confidence she had, her stance, the lines of her body that he let his eyes travel along while she was unaware of his presence. God, she looked good, even when she was angry as hell. Maybe because she was angry as hell.

"Your aim is impeccable as always," he observed, the blade buried in the wall a hairsbreadth from clipping his ear. He seemed remarkably relaxed about it too.

"And I wasn't sneaking, Red," he refuted with a smirk, "You were just distracted.

"I heard that your brother's rocking the boat so I thought I'd come offer to beat him up for you."

[survivalspecialist]

She wasn't hard to find. Once he'd stopped off at the office and overheard talk about some kind of sibling blow-out - the subject of which he hadn't been privy to, it subsequently narrowed down the number of likely places that he'd find her. Since he wouldn't put it past the eldest Redfield to actually storm into the ladies bathroom if Claire tried to shelter there, Leon's next best guess was precisely where he found her.

Even Chris wasn't stupid enough to push the envelope when Red had a gun in her hand.

There was something particularly attractive to the sight, in Leon's eyes though. The confidence she had, her stance, the lines of her body that he let his eyes travel along while she was unaware of his presence. God, she looked good, even when she was angry as hell. Maybe because she was angry as hell.

"Your aim is impeccable as always," he observed, the blade buried in the wall a hairsbreadth from clipping his ear. He seemed remarkably relaxed about it too.

"And I wasn't sneaking, Red," he refuted with a smirk, "You were just distracted.

"I heard that your brother's rocking the boat so I thought I'd come offer to beat him up for you."

@survivalspecialist | just breathe | claire & leon

BangBangBang.

Shots echoed in the firing range as the solo shooter meticulously fired. When her clip was emptied, she flicked the safety and ejected the clip with practiced ease. The clip dropped into the grasp of her second hand and she set the handgun down to start reloading the clip with bullets from the waiting box.

The repetitiveness of it all was soothing and it took some of her frustration out on the target at the far end of the range. Claire's fight with her brother still lingered in her brain and she was trying her best not to take her temper out on anyone else.

"I don't like it. He's not good enough for you, Claire."

"I'm not a child, Chris! No one would be good enough for you."

"Well, anyone but him!"

Claire ran their fight over in her head and scowled at the clip she was reloading. She set it down to take a breath before she threw it down the range and removed her earmuffs to set them on the counter as well. Suddenly she realized she wasn't alone, the hair on the back of her neck raising. Instinct kicked in ahead of common sense and she turned quickly; one hand producing a knife that was thrown just shy of the person's head.

"Leon!" She gasped, surprised by the sight of him and slightly horrified about the knife buried in the wall. Whoopsies. "Dummy, you should know better than to sneak up on someone!"

[survivalspecialist]

Well, it was always a relief to hear that a colleague or coworker was indeed safe and hadn’t been bitten or otherwise infected and it was no different then. He hadn’t worried exactly, worry was dangerous on the job but it was still good to hear. Her actions had really only cemented the fact that she wasn’t used to the tight quarters and close combat though so it was without argument that Leon did indeed take point.

She seemed alright though and Leon turned away to continue heading down the hall, turning to lead the way down a connecting corridor to head to the wing housing the rooftop stairwell. It was right there at the end of the hall - a hall that was still disconcertingly empty.

He suspected then that the buildings’ infection was deliberate - that the doors had been locked so that the occupants couldn’t flee before being infected. Whether they were supposed to have been released once they’d turned, he didn’t know.

With a small jerk of his head he gestured for her to continue following and pressed onwards towards the door at the end of the hall. He was on edge though, managing the rising feeling of dread and hoping his intuition would be wrong and that there wouldn’t be something waiting for them up top.

survivalspecialist​:

It crossed his mind to suggest stopping in one of the rooms so that she could organise her magazines, since getting caught short was a surefire way to end up zombie chow but she was continuing forward and so he trusted her judgement on whether or not to stop. He questioned his own judgement on letting her take point though, when she was almost wrong-footed by a lurking zombie.

“Emily-!” he shouted as she was followed into the hall, his gun swiftly aimed down towards the too-close-for-comfort zombie but he lowered it when her changed position compromised his shot, the gun lowered back to the floor as he hurried over. By the time he’d caught up, she’d thoroughly dispatched the zombie.

“Focus!” he hissed shortly, shaking off the moment’s adrenaline and he stepped past her to clear an adjoining corridor, one they’d have to move down to reach the stairwell to the roof. “I know the situation and we’re still short the brains behind this outbreak. They are more than likely, on the roof themselves.”

He glanced along the hall, the sounds of zombies thumping on the windows and doors of closed rooms starting to rise. If they’d been locked in, that would explain their absence from the hall and lend further weight to mastermind having known what they were doing. If they’d had their own helicopter on the roof, they could have made their escape already.

“Once we’re in the stairwell, you need to get your magazines in order before we push out,” he murmured, moving slowly along the hall with his gun trained on doors and windows as they passed. He jiggled the handle of one to find it was indeed locked and the thumping of undead trying to reach them from the other side intensified with the rising of the their hungry moans.

She laughs, a little breathlessly, and shakes her head a few times as she straightens up. A hand’s planted between the undead’s shoulder blades to facilitate her getting back to her feet, and she absentmindedly shakes the hand holding her pistol, sending flecks of blood spattering onto the wall. Her tactics aren’t exactly as fluid as his, she clearly wasn’t trained to do that, but it was certainly effective… and instinctive. “I’m up! I’m up. No contact.”

Emily takes a moment - a deep breath, closing her eyes - then nods shortly. “Right. Well. Maybe you should take the lead, being the one with the ammo at the moment. I can still back you up, I just don’t want to get in front of something I have to mag-dump and realize I don’t have the resources to… do it with…” The pounding on the doors draws her attention, and she grimaces, though it’s tough to spot through her mask.

“We shouldn’t linger. In fact, we shouldn’t talk much more…” And, with that, she buttons up, pointing onwards and press-checking her pistol to make sure using it as an impromptu bludgeon didn’t get it into a state where the next shot would jam. She’s ready for anything - at least, she thinks - and with Kennedy at her side, she’ll hopefully not have to do anything too heroic on her own.

[survivalspecialist]

At the blatant dismissal of the offered hand, he gave a long-suffering sigh and dropped his hand back to his side, his gaze following her as she passed him to dispose of what couldn’t be eaten. “You wound me,” he teased in a rumble, following after her to also rid himself of his used items.

He didn’t say anything else for the time being, just waited for her to be done and then began to lead the way from the communal space and towards the outer edge of the compound. It would be several minutes before they came upon the disused storage unit, the door partially boarded up. 

He slid a key into a partially obscured lock though and the door swung open after a quick twist of the key.

Inside was dim without any light on but the floor had a couple of carpet cutoffs on the floor and the small space was taken up by a couple of shelving units of old boxes of knickknacks that weren’t deemed useful, a couple of old, dented buckets and other miscellany and then Leon’s stash of contraband, trinkets and the cushions he had to sit on. It was cosy.

survivalspecialist​:

“Not only do I know how to use them, I’m good with them,” he announced, cool blue eyes seemingly twinkling in the low light from the assorted candles around the ‘canteen’.

The sooner we finish eating…” he insinuated playfully, polishing off the last of their small meal. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too much longer before they could get their farming plots to produce, then they’d have better food to eat.

Rising once his own meal was done, he held his can in one hand to be taken for cleaning and recycling, and extended the other to her.

“Clearly I still know how to treat a woman right too, caveman or not.”

Rolling her eyes, she bit back some snark, not wanting to inflate his ego any more than it already was. Chuckling, she shook her head and finishing off her own meal as well.

At his hand, she smirked, standing up and walking over to him instead of taking his hand. Patting his shoulder, she shrugged. “Nice try, not shot.” It was a tease – she couldn’t hold the snark back for long, it seemed.

“Let’s go so you can prove your hands’ worth.” Giving him a wink, she moved to toss out her used items.

[survivalspecialist]

Independent Headcanon Based Luis Sera Roleplay Blog from Resident Evil 4

Written by Kuja

Visuals by Veronica

Info-Rules

[survivalspecialist]

Leon didn’t let himself stop, turn back or otherwise look at Luis because he didn’t know what he’d do if he did. He cursed whoever had stopped the countdown for the self destruct because now it wasn’t going to take them with it. Monsters...  The very things he had vowed to rid the world of and now he was one of them.

He wasn’t gone too long, a room in the island base contained a rusted, old medicine cabinet with a first aid kit inside it, old but still functional, probably having been there before Las Plagas infested the place and didn’t need such human things as medical aid.

Human things.

Luis probably wasn’t human anymore, if he was still alive even. Leon had probably wasted time. It wasn’t human medicine that was going to save Luis, it would be whatever fucked up parasitic thing was inside him.

The thought made him retch and finally bring up what little he’d eaten of late with bile and bits of something that only made his stomach twist further. He wiped his mouth with the back of a clawed hand and finally returned to Luis, tail dragging along the floor behind him because he didn’t know how to not make it do so, and wasn’t sure he wanted to. He had a ratty old worker’s coat in his claws too, to cover up that stomach-turning hole.

Luis wanted to leave, he’d made that abundantly clear, but where in all the hells would they go?

survivalspecialist​:

The grip on his tail was hugely foreign and instinct had him ripping his tail out of Luis’ hand even though it dropped limply to the ground immediately afterwards. The roaring snarl of ‘don’t touch me!’ on Leon’s lips was entirely inhuman though he cut it off as soon as he released it, horrified by what was becoming of him.

“You have a fucking hole in your chest Luis and I don’t want to look at it anymore, so sit the fuck down. If the island blows up in the meantime then so be it, the world doesn’t need more monsters in it.”

He didn’t give Luis another chance to stop him though guilt screamed at him for being so harsh, for leaving Luis there when he didn’t want to be alone, but Leon did. Between the hole in Luis’ chest that had something moving  in it, and Leon’s own transformation, he felt sick. He needed a task to complete, to focus on because if he was allowed to dwell on his new reality, it wasn’t going to end well.

Luis quickly pulled away, cowering away from Leon as spines rattled beneath his tattered shirt. It wasn’t the roar that had scared him… It was the words… He shut his eyes tightly, quivering as he kept to himself, and looked away from Leon. He needed help… But Leon running off to get him some was going to help no one…

He could hear Leon leave, but slowly started to go numb, once again, the feeling in his body making him feel sick. It was time to let instinct take over… The only chance he had at survival, if at all. He just hoped he would have enough self control when Leon returned, already feeling his insides twisting and contorting, building and breaking as he let out a weak groan.

“I’ll… See you later, then…” he rasped after Leon, not bothering to hide the inhumanity in his voice as he braced himself against the nearest wall.

[survivalspecialist]

“Not only do I know how to use them, I’m good with them,” he announced, cool blue eyes seemingly twinkling in the low light from the assorted candles around the ‘canteen’.

The sooner we finish eating...” he insinuated playfully, polishing off the last of their small meal. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too much longer before they could get their farming plots to produce, then they’d have better food to eat.

Rising once his own meal was done, he held his can in one hand to be taken for cleaning and recycling, and extended the other to her.

“Clearly I still know how to treat a woman right too, caveman or not.”

survivalspecialist​:

Much as hunting and killing was what they were good at, all they felt like they were good for, there was more to life than that and Alice had reminded him of that. She’d reminded him that there was a man behind the weapon that he was, that even in the hellhole that the US had become, there was something worth fighting for.

He chuckled gently, continuing to eat his meagre meal and shrugged a little. “Okay, fine, not a flowers girl, I get it,” he rumbled, waving it off and spooning another mouthful of food. “You women are too complicated for a poor neanderthal like myself.

“Girls still like chocolate though, right? Perhaps I’ll exchange a little chocolate for one or two of those secrets. How’s that sound?”

“Listen – women are too complicated, period,” she mused, smirking to herself as she continued to eat. “Neanderthal or not, you know how to use your hands – I like that in a brute.”

When he mentioned chocolate, she chucked.

Christ, it almost felt normal, like the world hadn’t died. This was like the kind of flirtation she’d do at the bar when Spencer was being an asshole all those years ago. Fucker is burning in hell.

“Now that…that sounds enticing.”

[survivalspecialist]

Much as hunting and killing was what they were good at, all they felt like they were good for, there was more to life than that and Alice had reminded him of that. She’d reminded him that there was a man behind the weapon that he was, that even in the hellhole that the US had become, there was something worth fighting for.

He chuckled gently, continuing to eat his meagre meal and shrugged a little. “Okay, fine, not a flowers girl, I get it,” he rumbled, waving it off and spooning another mouthful of food. “You women are too complicated for a poor neanderthal like myself.

“Girls still like chocolate though, right? Perhaps I’ll exchange a little chocolate for one or two of those secrets. How’s that sound?”

survivalspecialist​:

Honestly at that point he wasn’t sure if he’d even enjoy ‘normal’ any longer. Oh without doubt he’d like a nice cooked meal with steak and he’d love to just be able to go for a drive, maybe visit the beach. But he knew as he was sure Alice knew, that if things were peaceful for too long, they’d get antsy and restless. The thrill of combat, of survival was one they’d gotten accustomed to.

“You sayin’ if I found you some nice flowers in the wasteland, you wouldn’t like ‘em?” he asked, a brow raised as he continued eating. “I’d like it if someone gave me flowers,” he taunted with a soft snort. She wasn’t getting more of his smokes. 

“Alright, we’ll walk. It’s not far.” Within the conclave at least, even though it was admittedly just an outlying disused storage room. He had tidied it up though, turned it into a comfortable little spot with cushions, a lamp, books and his secret stash of whiskey, smokes and other trade-ables.

He looked amused though. “I’m curious as to how you’ll test that theory. Got some secrets up your sleeves yet, hm?”

She grinned, appreciating his witty sentiment. “Sure, I’d like them enough. But do I look like a flowers kind of girl?” Arching a brow, she smirked. “But now I know, for your sake.”  This was easy enough. This kind of banter. Light and simple.

“A lady never spills all her secrets,” she replied. “I know a thing or two.” Alice had been an effective agent before the world ended. Her charm, body, and wit made her very captivating for targets. She knew how to play the game and turn them into puddy.

Leon, though? Oh, she was going to have some fun. It was freeing to think this way again, and not focus solely on killing and hunting the undead.

[survivalspecialist]

It crossed his mind to suggest stopping in one of the rooms so that she could organise her magazines, since getting caught short was a surefire way to end up zombie chow but she was continuing forward and so he trusted her judgement on whether or not to stop. He questioned his own judgement on letting her take point though, when she was almost wrong-footed by a lurking zombie.

“Emily-!” he shouted as she was followed into the hall, his gun swiftly aimed down towards the too-close-for-comfort zombie but he lowered it when her changed position compromised his shot, the gun lowered back to the floor as he hurried over. By the time he’d caught up, she’d thoroughly dispatched the zombie.

“Focus!” he hissed shortly, shaking off the moment’s adrenaline and he stepped past her to clear an adjoining corridor, one they’d have to move down to reach the stairwell to the roof. “I know the situation and we’re still short the brains behind this outbreak. They are more than likely, on the roof themselves.”

He glanced along the hall, the sounds of zombies thumping on the windows and doors of closed rooms starting to rise. If they’d been locked in, that would explain their absence from the hall and lend further weight to mastermind having known what they were doing. If they’d had their own helicopter on the roof, they could have made their escape already.

“Once we’re in the stairwell, you need to get your magazines in order before we push out,” he murmured, moving slowly along the hall with his gun trained on doors and windows as they passed. He jiggled the handle of one to find it was indeed locked and the thumping of undead trying to reach them from the other side intensified with the rising of the their hungry moans.

survivalspecialist​:

It seemed their thoughts were on the same lines though it frustrated him to no end that despite his best efforts to wipe the virus out, just as he’d told Claire many years ago, still the T-virus and its creatures lingered. Perhaps his efforts were futile; after all, what could one man do? What was the dedication of one man’s life in the fight when even an outdated virus was still being used to terrorise people?

He sighed softly without confirming her point when the doors slid open and his gun was up in the blink of an eye, aiming down the hall until it remained clear for several moments. He stepped out ahead of her to clear while she spoke to someone he couldn’t see nor hear while he wondered if groups like the BSAA and Chris’ new team would become the norm - that bioterrorism and the monsters that resulted from it would become commonplace.

“The stairwell up to the roof is on the on the east side. Let’s hope Lickers are the worst of what we face,” he rumbled softly, though the blood smeared further down the hall spoke for how that floor too hadn’t escaped unscathed. The carpeted floor meant that it was difficult to hear zombie shuffling though.

He wouldn’t have expected anything bigger or more dangerous than lickers that high within the building but he knew better than to get his hopes up too high even if labs and monsters didn’t tend to favour the upper floors of high-rise buildings. He swore to god though if there was a tyrant on the roof, he’d fling himself off it.

“I’d hope we don’t face anything at all. I’m getting to the point where we’re going to have to hole up in a bathroom for a few minutes so I can organize my magazines - I’m pretty sure almost all of these are half-empty by now, and I’d rather not find out which are which by trial and error.” Her tone’s not exactly chipper, but the appearance of tougher opposition clearly hasn’t made Emily panic. After mentioning half-empty mags, she has the thought to check the one in her gun at that moment - full, thankfully.

It’d be cliche to say that it’s too quiet upstairs, but the lack of zombies is strange. The BSAA agent doesn’t seem to mind either way, sweeping each room just the same and occasionally glancing over her shoulder to make sure Leon hasn’t been dragged off into the shadows. After a couple minutes of relative silence, she speaks again.

“…once we make it to the top, I’m going to light a flare. This building has its own helipad, which is good, but we’ll be exposed - both to whatever might be up there, and whoever might be hanging around to make sure their little stunt went off properly. If you think something’s up, don’t go all big hero and try to handle it alone, all right?” Emily pushes open another door, visibly startles, and takes a step back, a zombie following her right out into the hall. Fortunately, it’s only on its feet for a moment.

She turns, pushing it along the same path as her, and smashes it into the wall, dropping on top of it as it lands on its face and driving the butt of her pistol into the back of its head. One, two, three, four- and she realizes it stopped moving on the second.

A pause. “…hooh. Okay. I need to stop talking so much.”

[survivalspecialist]

snooze time

[survivalspecialist]

[RE!Hawk] It probably isn’t the backup he’s looking for, and it also wasn’t intended as backup in the first place, but beggars can’t be choosers and from the amount of gunfire that was sufficient to draw the Manticore’s attention, his is an urgent situation. In his capable hands, a pistol is a fine instrument of destruction. In hers, seven tons of ravenous Uroboros biomass is a nuclear bomb.

Hawker crashes headfirst through the wall of the warehouse, taking the dilapidated structure down the rest of the way and shrugging it off as if it is cardboard. The Tyrant is too big and moving too fast to alter course as it charges the agent, but the quadrupedal beast flings her tail sideways like a rudder and intercepts it so close to impact that one of the tendrils comprising her mane brushes Leon’s back as she hurtles past. The impact is tremendous, like a locomotive crash, and the fight is short. There is a struggle, snarling, a horrid cacophony of tearing and crunching, and the Manticore liberates most of the Tyrant’s upper half from the rest of its twitching corpse. Only when the voluntary kicking and thrashing stills beneath her taloned hands does she raise her head, scanning the dark with her many eyes. She did not miss his presence. It is hard to hide from a beast so well-evolved to hunt and kill.

There is a deft, almost birdlike toss of her head and a snap of tri-directional jaws and the beast swallows the mess of gore and fabric she is holding. A multitude of black tongue-tendrils sweep some of the blood from her muzzle and retracts back within her arsenal of dagger teeth with a metallic snap, and she rumbles softly, the sound punctuated by a snort.

Show yourself.

It took a lot, those days, to surprise Leon Kennedy. He'd seen and killed more nightmares than the average person ever had in their lifetime. But life had a way yet of throwing shit at him that he wasn't prepared for.

Something bursting through the collapsing warehouse he was partially sheltering against was absolutely not something he was prepared for and as such, the panicked dive away from the collapsing structure was instinctive so that he didn't get caught in falling debris.

He barely caught sight of the creature that had come barreling through but he definitely heard the sound of it crashing into the tyrant that he'd been facing off against - the last of the assortment of creatures bearing down on him and the second of two tyrants, if the motionless, mangled body lying a ways off was anything to go by.

A single glance over his shoulder was all he spared to make sure he wasn't about to get flattened by two monstrous and inhuman things before he was ducking into the still-settling ruins of the warehouse he'd already fought his way through earlier that day.

He remained hidden even while he heard the unmistakable sounds of meat and bone being consumed, not particularly needing to see that in detail.

When the victorious beast didn't move off though, he knew then that it was waiting for him, displaying an intelligence that worried him in what he assumed was another tyrant of some description. Arias had maintained his intelligence after becoming a tyrant too which suggested a worrying trend in the biggest and most dangerous bioweapons.

Despite the fact that it would likely only serve to piss the beast off if he fired it, Leon kept the magnum raised as he slowly emerged from the crevice he'd taken shelter in and took in the sight of his unexpected backup.

[survivalspecialist]

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t shocked by Krauser’s surrender, cold blue eyes widened as empty hands were shown but he knew better than to think it was true. The merc had some kind of a plan but what it was, Leon wasn’t sure.

“I’ve nothing to run from,” he replied blandly, entirely distrustful of the blond.

Keeping his gun trained on the guy with one hand, he used the other to speed-dial the DSO switchboard to put in a request for pickup with a means of keeping Krauser restrained and guarded.

“Now there’s no-one holding your leash and no-one else’s ideals to fight for, what exactly are hoping to achieve?”

survivalspecialist​:

Leon paused when Krauser did to meet the man’s eyes, wondering briefly what he was thinking, stood up there on the fire escape and figured he was probably gloating to himself. Leon couldn’t make the jump, he was fit for sure but no human could make a jump that high. Instead the agent took a running start, kicked off the alley wall opposite the fire escape and it gave him enough height to reach the bottom of the fire escape.

Krauser was already several flights above him by the time Leon had boots on the stairs but two pairs of boots rang out on the metal as Leon too ascended towards the roof. He didn’t know what Krauser was thinking, knew always that it was people that were more dangerous than any zombie could ever be and tried to prepare himself for whatever the mercenary might have in store for him.

Still unwilling to fire unless he could guarantee the shot since he didn’t want to hurt a civilian or have the city cops send a chopper out, exposed on the roof as they were, he emerged onto the rooftop with gun in hand and brought it up but didn’t fire.

“End of the line, Krauser! There’s nowhere left to run.”

“Nowhere to run, but hardly end of the line,” Krauser growled, watching Leon closely. “Things have changed. No more Umbrella, no more Tricell. Now it’s just me…” It was hard to admit, but he was alone. Slowly, Krauser took a deep breath, raising his hands. It was a surrender, then. Putting both arms up, as uncomfortable as it was to do, he watched Leon curiously. 

He needed information, and the only way was to get inside. Hopefully Leon would be that key. “I’m tired of running, Comrade. Aren’t you?” he asked, face devoid of anything but a stoic resolve, yet his eyes still blazed with determination. This surrender was not a surrender. Hardly that. It was a way to get what he wanted.

[survivalspecialist]

The grip on his tail was hugely foreign and instinct had him ripping his tail out of Luis’ hand even though it dropped limply to the ground immediately afterwards. The roaring snarl of ‘don’t touch me!’ on Leon’s lips was entirely inhuman though he cut it off as soon as he released it, horrified by what was becoming of him.

“You have a fucking hole in your chest Luis and I don’t want to look at it anymore, so sit the fuck down. If the island blows up in the meantime then so be it, the world doesn’t need more monsters in it.”

He didn’t give Luis another chance to stop him though guilt screamed at him for being so harsh, for leaving Luis there when he didn’t want to be alone, but Leon did. Between the hole in Luis’ chest that had something moving  in it, and Leon’s own transformation, he felt sick. He needed a task to complete, to focus on because if he was allowed to dwell on his new reality, it wasn’t going to end well.

survivalspecialist​:

His attention was drawn away from the state of himself by movement and he looked on in horror for a moment as he saw something moving in the hole that Saddler had made of Luis’ chest. And Luis seemed completely okay with it. He was still trying to move too and the agent didn’t know how he was managing it.

The self-destruct was suspended though, there was no hurry.

“No,” Leon refuted. “You need to stop and rest, you’re in no state to go anywhere.” Maybe he could find the merchant. Maybe the handy old guy was still around and just happened to have some kind of medical supplies, or knew where to find them.

He laughed then, a disbelieving, inhuman sounding noise and he shook his head. “Go to America? Like this?”

He took his finger back and struggled to get his feet under him, practically towering over the Spaniard when he straightened. “Stay here. I’m going to find something to help,” he announced, despite the inevitable futility of it. The place did need to be wiped out, and him along with it. Perhaps even both of them. But he wasn’t going to try to do anything when the Spaniard had a gaping hole in his chest.

Perhaps he could find some kind of infirmary in the base. It had a morgue after all. He could come back for Luis when he’d found something.

Luis managed to catch the other infected by the tail, gripping it weakly, but firmly as he coughed softly. “I don’t want to be alone…” he begged softly. He didn’t need help… Or much of it, anyways�� He was fine, on his own. “Please… I don’t want to be alone…” 

He felt dizzy, tired of being awake, but he knew he had to be… If he wasn’t… He shook his head, doing his best to try and stand, gasping softly in pain at the motions. “We just… Need to leave… Please, Leon…” he begged softly. He was tired of being here, among the death and smoke. He was hoping for some sort of… Well… Relief from it all…To simply get away. “I can walk… I’ll be fine…” In a few hours, perhaps days… But it would be hard to tell until all the healing was said and done.

[survivalspecialist]

It seemed their thoughts were on the same lines though it frustrated him to no end that despite his best efforts to wipe the virus out, just as he’d told Claire many years ago, still the T-virus and its creatures lingered. Perhaps his efforts were futile; after all, what could one man do? What was the dedication of one man’s life in the fight when even an outdated virus was still being used to terrorise people?

He sighed softly without confirming her point when the doors slid open and his gun was up in the blink of an eye, aiming down the hall until it remained clear for several moments. He stepped out ahead of her to clear while she spoke to someone he couldn’t see nor hear while he wondered if groups like the BSAA and Chris’ new team would become the norm - that bioterrorism and the monsters that resulted from it would become commonplace.

“The stairwell up to the roof is on the on the east side. Let’s hope Lickers are the worst of what we face,” he rumbled softly, though the blood smeared further down the hall spoke for how that floor too hadn’t escaped unscathed. The carpeted floor meant that it was difficult to hear zombie shuffling though.

He wouldn’t have expected anything bigger or more dangerous than lickers that high within the building but he knew better than to get his hopes up too high even if labs and monsters didn’t tend to favour the upper floors of high-rise buildings. He swore to god though if there was a tyrant on the roof, he’d fling himself off it.

survivalspecialist​:

Part of him wanted to stay. He knew what lickers could do he was more than capable of dealing with them - better that he do it than to leave it to someone less experienced (less traumatised) on some kind of cleanup crew. But he knew also that she had the right idea. Putting down the lickers when he didn’t need to would leave him dangerously low on the more powerful ammo when they might yet need.

So even as he heard her hurried footfalls behind him, he only backed up more slowly, two more heavy rounds putting down another licker before her gunfire whizzed past him.

Trusting the smaller rounds to delay enough for him too to join her, he turned away from the approaching bioweapons and sprinted along the hall much the same way she had. He may be getting on a little bit, by field agent standards, but he could still move.

“I’m in, step back,” he urged, a firm hand on her shoulder signalling that he was past her, barely sounding like the run had affected him as he slapped at the panel to direct the elevator to an upper floor. The doors slid closed, cutting off the sight of the approaching creatures and Leon shook his head, frustration written clearly over his slightly tired-looking face.

“Who in this day and age is still trying to make ‘T’ viable?” Lickers were particularly adept killers though, so maybe it was less about the virus in general and more about the lickers themselves…

She reloads quickly once the doors close, ejecting the empty magazine at speed with a snappy flick of the wrist. It clatters first against the wall of the elevator, then the floor, as Tundra smacks a new mag home.

His out-loud musing earns a glance from her, and she’s quiet for a moment before chuckling shortly. “Well, maybe out-of-date strains were all they could get their hands on? And, I mean… think of it like this. Hunters are about as outdated as it gets, but if you saw one coming at you all hopped-up and angry in a narrow hallway… I don’t think you’d be saying, “oh, it’s just a Hunter”.”

She seems to think she’s made a pretty solid point… at least, for a few seconds. “…or, well. Maybe you might say that. But you get what I mean. Most people aren’t nearly as well-versed in how to handle garden-variety BOWs - why mess around with something new when Lickers are proven to work?”

Maybe Tundra would have elaborated further, but she’s cut off by the doors opening. Thankfully, it’s into an empty hallway. She brings a hand to the toggle switch for her radio, tone switching from the conversational thoughtfulness she’d displayed with Leon to calm, curt and professional. “All callsigns this net, this is Tango Victor, currently approaching the roof of the Harvest and Mulligan building. Lickers are confirmed on site, in significant numbers. Use caution. Moving to extract now. TV out.”

[survivalspecialist]

Leon paused when Krauser did to meet the man’s eyes, wondering briefly what he was thinking, stood up there on the fire escape and figured he was probably gloating to himself. Leon couldn’t make the jump, he was fit for sure but no human could make a jump that high. Instead the agent took a running start, kicked off the alley wall opposite the fire escape and it gave him enough height to reach the bottom of the fire escape.

Krauser was already several flights above him by the time Leon had boots on the stairs but two pairs of boots rang out on the metal as Leon too ascended towards the roof. He didn’t know what Krauser was thinking, knew always that it was people that were more dangerous than any zombie could ever be and tried to prepare himself for whatever the mercenary might have in store for him.

Still unwilling to fire unless he could guarantee the shot since he didn’t want to hurt a civilian or have the city cops send a chopper out, exposed on the roof as they were, he emerged onto the rooftop with gun in hand and brought it up but didn’t fire.

“End of the line, Krauser! There’s nowhere left to run.”

survivalspecialist​:

Leon staggered backwards but kept his feet, surprised by the kick but not about to be so easily overpowered by the brute. It did give Krauser the opening he wanted though and Leon had no choice but to give chase. Firing at the man would be unlikely to help much. Krauser would likely barely react to it and then Leon would be bringing the cops down on his head.

So he gave chase, ducking out of the alley in pursuit. Krauser wouldn’t be hard to spot, he was a big guy, shoving past people where he had to so it was easy for Leon to find him and follow him. He needed to steer the mercenary towards somewhere less populated because he didn’t want to make a scene nor hit a civilian accidentally.

If he let Krauser slip through his fingers though…

Krauser had to give Leon credit where credit was due. He could run. Like a damn hound, he was on Jack within seconds, and it make Jack smile. Finally, the thrill of a good chase. The opposite of their clash in Spain, where Jack knew he’d had the advantage. Now anything could happen. It wasn’t like him, but part of Jack Krauser no longer wished for control.

The large man found something to his advantage, using powerful legs to leap up onto the end of a fire escape, quickly hauling himself over the railing, only sparing a glance back at Leon to smirk. How shaggy and unkept he looked. It was all that went through Krauser’s mind. How the government had ruined Leon. had played him like a damned fiddle, and broken him down into nothing. What was Leon fighting for? Was it even his own will, anymore? Krauser wondered as he started to ascend up further. 

The roof was a perfect place for a scuffle. An open field. No traps, no tricks. Just skill, and who’s steel will would prevail. Things had changed since Spain. Jack knew it, and he was sure Leon knew it as well. Yet still, Jack wanted this confrontation, this fight… He wanted to see Leon’s resolve, even if it was for a last time.

[survivalspecialist]

Part of him wanted to stay. He knew what lickers could do he was more than capable of dealing with them - better that he do it than to leave it to someone less experienced (less traumatised) on some kind of cleanup crew. But he knew also that she had the right idea. Putting down the lickers when he didn’t need to would leave him dangerously low on the more powerful ammo when they might yet need.

So even as he heard her hurried footfalls behind him, he only backed up more slowly, two more heavy rounds putting down another licker before her gunfire whizzed past him.

Trusting the smaller rounds to delay enough for him too to join her, he turned away from the approaching bioweapons and sprinted along the hall much the same way she had. He may be getting on a little bit, by field agent standards, but he could still move.

“I’m in, step back,” he urged, a firm hand on her shoulder signalling that he was past her, barely sounding like the run had affected him as he slapped at the panel to direct the elevator to an upper floor. The doors slid closed, cutting off the sight of the approaching creatures and Leon shook his head, frustration written clearly over his slightly tired-looking face.

“Who in this day and age is still trying to make ‘T’ viable?” Lickers were particularly adept killers though, so maybe it was less about the virus in general and more about the lickers themselves...

survivalspecialist​:

Leon took the hand when it was offered in one of his gloved ones and shook briefly, not offering anything in return since he’d already introduced himself, technically. There did come a small nod of agreement when she announced that they need not scour any further though and he allowed her to leave the office first; a gesture he would come to regret.

He knew that sounds as soon as he heard it, before she’d even gotten the words out. His gun was up but the licker was already dropping from the ceiling, tongue already extending. He didn’t need to be told to shoot but he hesitated, his gun wavering for a moment. She was between him and it.

It took him another second, another moment of her being dragged across the floor towards those razor-sharp claws and that slavering maw but then the sharp report of Leon’s magnum blasted in the corridor. The licker shrieked as the heavy bullet ripped through part of its brain and then a second one put it down for good.

The skitter of claws on hard surfaces said that it wasn’t alone though. Shoving a hand out towards her to help her up, he glanced over his shoulder and two more shots took down another licker. There were no quips, no questions as to where the damn things had come from, only a single-minded determination not to go back Raccoon again. Tall Oaks had been bad enough.

“Urrraaaaagh- FUCK you!” Don’t let it be said that she’s a damsel in distress. His moment of hesitation brings her squarely into the danger zone, but the rather uncharacteristic expletive is punctuated by the steel toe of her boot colliding with the side of the creature’s disgusting head. It jerks to the side, providing a prime shot that Leon promptly takes, and Tundra rolls over onto her front, pushing herself onto her hands and knees before taking the help offered.

No time to catch her breath, though, as its friends round the corner, drawn in by the scuffle and gunfire. She halfway takes aim, then firmly shakes her head and turns tail, eschewing a stable grip on her pistol in favour of a dead sprint towards the elevator. The little lady can really move when she feels like it, from the look of things.

She at least gives him supporting fire once she reaches it, holding the door open by using it as a brace for her shooting arm. The spook’s accurate, though her firepower leaves something to be desired - no big, flashy hand cannon here, just a peppering of smaller rounds that are more slowing than stopping the bioweapons. “We need to go!”

[survivalspecialist]

Goddammit you’re all so much fucking taller than me.

I hate you all.