Chapter Seven
Chris turned at the sound of Claire calling out to him, hoping she wasn't caught in a trap. Though, in this room, it'd be pretty hard to fit a trap. His hopes were realized, and he saw something that gave him great confidence. She was holding the two lock picks that Jill had given to him, through Claire. But, the other thing, the gun belt, the 16-shot P99 gun, with three clips, was the thing that flooded him with relief. It was a welcome item, because a gun was very useful in these situations. Probably some Bond wannabe, judging from the type. If they ran out of vaccine, then the gun could work as well.
"Claire, you just found us a lifesaver!" He smiled along with her, and she attached the belt to her waist, disposing of the other, empty gun belt she had. She stood, and laughed. Not the time for hysteria, but Chris couldn't help himself, either. The finally stood a chance . . . except there was still that psycho with the rifle running around. They might be able to stand a chance against him, if they could get a train on him.
"Chris, do you mind if I keep the gun? I mean, I know you're a good shot and stuff, but I'd feel more confident with it. Wouldn't break down as easy with it, you know?" He nodded, glad that his sister had something to place some kind of hope on. She was also a decent shot. Not that she could hit a target fifty yards away with a PPK/S like he could, but good, nonetheless. These situations also brought out the toughest in people, so she'd be a good protector. But, if they split up for a puzzle, then . . . he'd take the gun. She's able to solve puzzles faster, and he needed all the help he could get.
Suddenly, a thought flashed through his head. His hand shot to his back, and he reached deep into his S.T.A.R.S. backpack. Why he was wearing his uniform, he only knew that Claire had suggested he wear it. When he removed his hand from it, he pulled out a standard S.T.A.R.S. issue Beretta, with a full clip. It was also attached to a belt, and had three clips along with it. More confidence, more help. They needed all the help they could get.
Steve watched Leon run through the halls of the mansion, which was a complete replica of the Spencer mansion. Steve had grown up there, living happily. Until the spill, that is. Conducting some of the experiments that the scientists wanted him to, he had fun. Watching all of those animals slowly decaying, dying, it filled him with a sort of . . . power. He felt power, and he always wanted more of it.
Shaking the thought, he watched as the monstrosity raged through the mansion, setting fire to everything that was in its path. It seemed completely pissed off, and for good reason. Won't kill me, thought Steve. I programmed it to kill the Redfields . . . aww, shit, it's going to go after Mark. Oh, well, Dr. Ashford and I can run this operation by ourselves.
His gaze switched to another monitor, which was in the hallway leading to the underground building. Claire and Chris were walking down, with two guns on their belts . . . ah, shit! That's not good. His plans were going to be ruined! God damn it . . . unless . . . unless Leon gets to them. They won't be able to kill it with bullets. They'd need a vaccine or something, which he knew that only he had-
-except Wesker told him that he shouldn't assume anything-
-but what did he know? When Wesker flew back, taking Steve to the labs, fixing him up, he explained some survival tactics. 'Don't assume anything. Keep your eyes open.' Yadda, yadda, yadda. He didn't need to keep guard. Since they gave him the same treatment as Wesker, he knew that he could take anything on.
But, still, his own eyes creeped him out a little. The cat-like, glowing, bluish eyes. They were haunting, but could scare the shit out of anyone that he encountered. That's why he wore sunglasses. Not right to scare them at an inopportune time. When he ran into Claire, they'd embrace, say how much they missed each other, kiss maybe, even . . . .
Well, until then, he'd just have to watch, wait until Leon came, wait for his chance to save her. He'd change Leon back, of course, to let Claire watch him suffer, so that she had to go to him, cry on his shoulder, though this time, he wouldn't be the victim. Steve, he'd just put his arm around her, kiss her deeply, and if she resisted, he'd smack her good. Taking out Chris would be simple, even easier than killing off Captain Albert Wesker, who used to be a S.T.A.R.S. member. He'd gone down so easily in Steve's hands, he was so strong . . . .
Chris turned at the sound of Claire calling out to him, hoping she wasn't caught in a trap. Though, in this room, it'd be pretty hard to fit a trap. His hopes were realized, and he saw something that gave him great confidence. She was holding the two lock picks that Jill had given to him, through Claire. But, the other thing, the gun belt, the 16-shot P99 gun, with three clips, was the thing that flooded him with relief. It was a welcome item, because a gun was very useful in these situations. Probably some Bond wannabe, judging from the type. If they ran out of vaccine, then the gun could work as well.
"Claire, you just found us a lifesaver!" He smiled along with her, and she attached the belt to her waist, disposing of the other, empty gun belt she had. She stood, and laughed. Not the time for hysteria, but Chris couldn't help himself, either. The finally stood a chance . . . except there was still that psycho with the rifle running around. They might be able to stand a chance against him, if they could get a train on him.
"Chris, do you mind if I keep the gun? I mean, I know you're a good shot and stuff, but I'd feel more confident with it. Wouldn't break down as easy with it, you know?" He nodded, glad that his sister had something to place some kind of hope on. She was also a decent shot. Not that she could hit a target fifty yards away with a PPK/S like he could, but good, nonetheless. These situations also brought out the toughest in people, so she'd be a good protector. But, if they split up for a puzzle, then . . . he'd take the gun. She's able to solve puzzles faster, and he needed all the help he could get.
Suddenly, a thought flashed through his head. His hand shot to his back, and he reached deep into his S.T.A.R.S. backpack. Why he was wearing his uniform, he only knew that Claire had suggested he wear it. When he removed his hand from it, he pulled out a standard S.T.A.R.S. issue Beretta, with a full clip. It was also attached to a belt, and had three clips along with it. More confidence, more help. They needed all the help they could get.
Steve watched Leon run through the halls of the mansion, which was a complete replica of the Spencer mansion. Steve had grown up there, living happily. Until the spill, that is. Conducting some of the experiments that the scientists wanted him to, he had fun. Watching all of those animals slowly decaying, dying, it filled him with a sort of . . . power. He felt power, and he always wanted more of it.
Shaking the thought, he watched as the monstrosity raged through the mansion, setting fire to everything that was in its path. It seemed completely pissed off, and for good reason. Won't kill me, thought Steve. I programmed it to kill the Redfields . . . aww, shit, it's going to go after Mark. Oh, well, Dr. Ashford and I can run this operation by ourselves.
His gaze switched to another monitor, which was in the hallway leading to the underground building. Claire and Chris were walking down, with two guns on their belts . . . ah, shit! That's not good. His plans were going to be ruined! God damn it . . . unless . . . unless Leon gets to them. They won't be able to kill it with bullets. They'd need a vaccine or something, which he knew that only he had-
-except Wesker told him that he shouldn't assume anything-
-but what did he know? When Wesker flew back, taking Steve to the labs, fixing him up, he explained some survival tactics. 'Don't assume anything. Keep your eyes open.' Yadda, yadda, yadda. He didn't need to keep guard. Since they gave him the same treatment as Wesker, he knew that he could take anything on.
But, still, his own eyes creeped him out a little. The cat-like, glowing, bluish eyes. They were haunting, but could scare the shit out of anyone that he encountered. That's why he wore sunglasses. Not right to scare them at an inopportune time. When he ran into Claire, they'd embrace, say how much they missed each other, kiss maybe, even . . . .
Well, until then, he'd just have to watch, wait until Leon came, wait for his chance to save her. He'd change Leon back, of course, to let Claire watch him suffer, so that she had to go to him, cry on his shoulder, though this time, he wouldn't be the victim. Steve, he'd just put his arm around her, kiss her deeply, and if she resisted, he'd smack her good. Taking out Chris would be simple, even easier than killing off Captain Albert Wesker, who used to be a S.T.A.R.S. member. He'd gone down so easily in Steve's hands, he was so strong . . . .