I really need to not write Outbreak fics.
To repeat the summary: David, Kevin, Jim. Underbelly. The break room, and David's most questionable special item (to me). Not serious.
I don't own any of the Resident Evil characters. Although, I can see myself doing weird shit like this to them like some of the Outbreak special items. Oh, Outbreak, how glorious you were.
The break room. Locked, and Jim didn't have the key to this particular door, so they had to force it. Kevin puffed his chest out, smirked, and smugly offered, "Allow me, ladies." Then he shoulder rammed the door a few times, but to no avail.
Jim groaned, and sighed, and shuffled around but had nothing more than passive-aggressive verbal, but wordless complaints to offer.
David finally grunted, said, "Move it," and with one swift kick, just to the left of the knob, forced the door open.
"I obviously loosened it," was Kevin's reply. He rolled his eyes and muttered, "Tough crowd."
Unfazed, Jim and David entered the break room, leaving Kevin to take the rear.
The three men immediately began working the room, each in his own particular fashion.
There was Jim, aiming to be first to wherever he was going, without really checking if it was safe first. He'd also be first to call for help if that perpetual tunnel vision of his got him into trouble.
If? More like when.
That wasn't to say the guy didn't have his uses. He had a way of honing in on stuff that seemed utterly useless, in the moment, but would turn out to be of tremendous value later. It'd saved them all a bunch of backtracking through increasingly dangerous territory already.
Him being a subway station employee had already come in handy in this rat hole.
Kevin seemed to be forever looking for danger. On the rare chance he didn't find it, he seemed intent on challenging it to find him. A little, 'Come on out, asshole. I'm right here,' sort of thing. He could claim he was acting as a decoy, to keep the others safe—that it was the cop in him.
More likely the self-sabotaging drunk in him.
David employed tactics similar to Kevin's, likely because David had similar demons. He could sure fight. He'd obviously handled a gun before, not to mention the way he handled it… He worked that butterfly knife of his like a master. And anyone who could, and would even attempt to take out a zombie from 25 feet away with a wrench?
Jack of all trades didn't quite fit, but it would have to do.
The room itself wasn't anything special. Employee lockers occupying half of the room, and on the other side, a couple of beds, next to a small desk. A vending machine stood next to the room's other door.
Jim had bypassed the lockers and headed for the rest area.
David was rummaging through the lockers.
Kevin had eyes on the dead subway workers on the ground. No telling if they'd stay that way, after all. He stood midway between the side of the room David was searching, and the side Jim was searching. He glanced over toward the small desk near where Jim was digging around.
Well, well, well…
There was a fair amount left in the bottle of whisky on the desk. Probably belonged to the dead guys on the floor. Wasn't gonna be of any use to them, so Kevin grabbed it and returned to his position of keeping watch.
That was when it happened.
Something inside the locker David was searching had clearly caught his eye. By his reaction—utter awe—it must've been damn good.
He reached in, quick and grabby, like a kid in candy store, like a crow who'd just seen something shiny, like a…
Kevin broke the silence with a teasing, "They're you."
David turned to face him, acknowledging the police officer's comment with a glare. But he didn't relinquish his find, a pair of animal print men's briefs.
"They're so you. I mean, I can't get over how you they are."
This time, David responded, but not really to Kevin. He merely said, "Tight around the waist."
Jim stepped up next to Kevin, and craned his neck around to try and see just what David was holding onto. "Did you find something?"
It was Kevin who replied. "Indeed he did."
"Where the hell did those come from?" Jim shouted, once he'd been able to get a look at the item in question.
"One of the lockers."
"Not my locker! Sure as hell didn't come from my locker. See the one marked Jim Chapman? No way you got those from my locker."
Kevin exaggerated a sigh and murmured, "Awfully defensive about it, aren't we?" He turned, and upon seeing that Jim, too, had something in his hands, asked, "Whatcha got?"
"Huh? Oh. A newspaper. I thought—" Jim pointed to the whisky bottle. "Figured we could put 'em together."
Kevin chuckled. It was a pretty good idea. Bottle of booze, something to light, and something to light it with.
So he guessed, "Molotov Cocktail. Not bad. If we can tear David away from his leopard print panties."
David was the one with a lighter, after all.
"They're not panties." David's voice was firm, but not angry, somehow. He was still holding onto the briefs.
"Man, why are you still hanging onto those?!" Jim threw his hands in the air.
"See, how they've got all this room down below?" David continued.
He sounded oddly calm in that moment. Far too zen for someone clutching a pair of animal print men's underwear claimed from a subway locker.
"…Uh huh." Kevin looked to Jim, unsure of how to respond.
"Okay—" Jim maintained that eye contact with Kevin, equally lost on what to do.
Oblivious, David smiled, ever so slightly, and tucked the underwear into his pocket. "These are some nice briefs. Think I'll take 'em."
Seriously, David. You are so badass. Why are you taking subway underwear with you? Why are you talking like you're going to wear someone else's subway underwear? The description for the Wild Briefs isn't word for word, but it's close. And the boys each have one necessary component to make a Molotov Cocktail, just because. (I had Kevin find booze, Jim pick up the paper, and we know David's default is a lighter.)