Author's Note: It keeps going and going...
Rating: For right now, PG-13
Continuity: The day after... the, er, night in Raccoon City in RE2.
The Day After... By: Carmen Kara Wayne
Chapter Two
The police station was a far cry from the temple that was the RPD, but it was by no means small, especially for the size of town it was. The building was three levels above ground, and two under, Claire noted, by the directory they passed as they entered. The halls were stale white. Eerily quiet and stale. Every so often, the white was broken with the darkness of drying, and fresh, blood. Off ten feet to their left was an arm, shreds of skin and muscle hinting that it had been torn from its owner. Claire shuddered hard, thinking of the previous night in Raccoon.
Oh, this is just dandy. I'm coming down with post-traumatic stress disorder. See a arm laying in a hall, think of zombies. Wonderful.
"Yo, Angel-baby, lets move, huh?"
The man gestured unenthusiastically down the hall that branched to their right. Claire focused herself and stared down the hallway. One side was amassed with windows to a courtyard that had been walled off to them on the outside (so she assumed), the other was lined with doors, and at the very end, one metal-door elevator. Claire suddenly felt very ill with dread.
"Where are we going down there?" she asked, trying to sound more curious than afraid.
"They have a tiiiiiny little armory down by the elevator, baby."
He started that way, a little bounce in his step. Claire frowned, but followed him anyway. Thankfully, her limp was beginning to lessen. He hadn't broken her knee after all.
"Hey," Claire said, beginning to remember something. She kept her gun in both hands as she spoke and followed him. "What's your name anyway?"
"Demon," he said, a scratchy chuckle emitting from his throat.
"Demon?" Claire asked, voice dripping with doubt. "What's your REAL name?"
"They call me Demon, baby. Don't ask for anymore than that, or else I'll hafta prove why."
Whoa boy, this guy is getting creepier by the second...
Claire was silent as she followed him down the hall after that. Approaching the first door, she saw it was completely shut, and felt a bit better. The zombies couldn't open doors. But looking out the wall of windows, her consolation withered. What was once a courtyard was now a graveyard for undead bodies. They were pacing in the shadows the trees provided in the afternoon sun. What was worse? she wondered. The zombies out there or the psychopath in front of her?
One of the zombies had caught sight of them, and was already slamming his head into the glass by the time they reached the last panel of glass on the wall. Claire watched it as she walked by—she couldn't help it—studying it's torn features. She could see its white jawbone, she could see it cracked from being gnawed on. Each time it's head hit the glass with a deaf thump, it's forehead seemed to mush in further and further, brownish streaks of greasy fluid slipping down its face and the glass.
She really wished Leon or Chris were with her.
A large crash startled her out of her trance so bad, she forgot her gun had no bullets and almost pressed the trigger in that direction, but was glad she didn't as soon as she saw what it was. Demon had just kicked his way through a heavily locked door. Heavily. Locked. She saw the deadbolts that had been fastened flying in bits across the tile within the room behind the door.
He's either incredibly strong, or so insane he can't feel pain...
She crossed past the door as he went inside, her staying outside just in case, to catch sight of him messing with a rifle laying on a table that was a complete disaster area. Gun lockers and cages were hanging wide open. No doubt the panic of zombies and Lickers overrode the need to lock those things up. Claire entered slowly and immediately went for clips she knew would fit her gun. Without hesitation, she grabbed one as she popped the empty from her gun and let it hit the floor and slapped the fresh—and full—one into place. Demon grinned slyly.
"Thought you said you were packin', Angel."
Claire gave him a weak, sarcastic grin back.
"I lied." She aimed the gun at him with one hand. "But don't think my threat changes any, dude. You try to come within arms' reach of me, I put one in your forehead."
He was watching her. Her voice was shaky, but her eyes were intent. She wasn't lying at all. Demon turned and went to grab a box of rifle bullets from one of the open lockers. A raspy chuckle emitted from his throat.
"You're a smart girl, ain'tcha? Smart indeed. You take bullshit from NO one."
"Especially so from men who allude to being murderers and rapists," Claire snapped, feeling more awake than before from the reality hitting her about the situation..
It was just like Chief Irons, when he had her at gunpoint in his taxidermy chamber under the RPD. He had PLANS to do horrible, horrible things to her. He told her he did, even though he never gave details. Rape her, maybe? Inflict terrible pain for hours and then dear, surely. It was maddening, the kind of people out there. Especially someone like Irons, Chief of the Raccoon City Police. Murderer, torturer, possible rapist—she was never a victim before and she didn't intend to ever be one. She'd rip someone's heart out with her bare hands if she had to, especially now, after all she had been through.
Demon looked at her, startled. But it looked too staged to be real.
"Murderer! Murderer?! I am not a murderer OR a rapist." He suddenly shot her one of those rotten-toothed grins again. "I prefer... 'Drafter of the Other Side' and 'Personal Pleasure Seeker'..."
Claire twitched and then found herself speaking before she knew what she wanted to say:
"Then kill yourself and masterba—"
A shriek. Claire knew it all too well. Adrenaline hit her veins in a split second. The mutated Licker. Her knee suddenly felt perfectly fine from the violent hormonal response and she kicked the door shut and shoved the barrel of the gun to his face.
"NOT playing with you!" she yelled, grabbing for the rifle he held.
Demon grinned, as if it were a game, and twisted the rifle so the butt slammed into her gut. Claire gasped involuntarily from that and pulled the trigger of her gun, but he had managed to knock her hand to the side so the bullet crashed into the door. In response—and in reflex—she swung her foot between his legs and nailed him dead center. Demon cried out a bit and went to hit her with the rifle once more. Claire stumbled backwards to avoid the hit, her hand still catching part of the swing. She pointed at him again, when the door, just a few feet from her, bent in the middle like something hard slammed into it. A sharp, startled cry escaped her mouth and she staggered away, tripping and hitting the floor hard.
Demon looked around and saw that the ceiling was paneled, and was soon up on the center table and removing a panel to slide up out of sight. His feet were disappearing into the upper darkness just she bad a god 18 rounds as the Licker slammed completely through.
That bastard--!
Claire opened fire, squeezing the trigger over and over as the Licker went for her. Something went right, she figured, when the Licker began to flail like mad. Claire grabbed three more clips before leaping to her feet and making a hopefully not too futile attempt to get past it. She felt something slap her back lightly as she sprinted past it—no doubt it's tongue—and darted out of the room, for a service elevator to the right of the door—the normal elevator to its left.
It was soon, too soon, after she was out of the room that she heard the table clatter around in the armory room, another shriek, and the rapid click of claws scrambling across tile, out of the room, and after its dinner.
As she came to the service elevator, she rose her foot and kicked the buttons, not caring if she hit "down" or "up", before pushing around by use of the wall and firing on the Licker more. She heard the elevator making it's way to her, and heard the doors opening as she fired. Originally, she was going to get in, but it was too risky.
Ten feet—seven—five—three—at about two feet, Claire dove to the side and the Licker attempted to stop, but slid across the tile, straight into the elevator, and crashed to the back of it. And hard enough for her to feel the vibrations where she had landed. Slowly, the doors began to shut and she begged in silent prayer it wouldn't get out before the metal doors shut completely. She cried out when that tongue snapped out—but then the doors crashed shut, perhaps due to a mechanical error, and she heard the Licker squeal within. Why, Claire hadn't a clue, until the elevator began to descend and soon all that was left was a piece of tongue laying on the white tile, sliced off by door.
Claire tried to force herself to breathe normally, but she knew she couldn't. Demon was out there, as were a whole town population of zombies, and a Licker that would probably be getting loose somewhere in the basement within a few seconds. Body aching, she pulled to her feet and shakily ran back to the armory room to fully load up on clips... and that's when, somehow, the glass wall to the zombie-filled courtyard shattered straight down the hall, leaving nothing between her and them.
Rating: For right now, PG-13
Continuity: The day after... the, er, night in Raccoon City in RE2.
The Day After... By: Carmen Kara Wayne
Chapter Two
The police station was a far cry from the temple that was the RPD, but it was by no means small, especially for the size of town it was. The building was three levels above ground, and two under, Claire noted, by the directory they passed as they entered. The halls were stale white. Eerily quiet and stale. Every so often, the white was broken with the darkness of drying, and fresh, blood. Off ten feet to their left was an arm, shreds of skin and muscle hinting that it had been torn from its owner. Claire shuddered hard, thinking of the previous night in Raccoon.
Oh, this is just dandy. I'm coming down with post-traumatic stress disorder. See a arm laying in a hall, think of zombies. Wonderful.
"Yo, Angel-baby, lets move, huh?"
The man gestured unenthusiastically down the hall that branched to their right. Claire focused herself and stared down the hallway. One side was amassed with windows to a courtyard that had been walled off to them on the outside (so she assumed), the other was lined with doors, and at the very end, one metal-door elevator. Claire suddenly felt very ill with dread.
"Where are we going down there?" she asked, trying to sound more curious than afraid.
"They have a tiiiiiny little armory down by the elevator, baby."
He started that way, a little bounce in his step. Claire frowned, but followed him anyway. Thankfully, her limp was beginning to lessen. He hadn't broken her knee after all.
"Hey," Claire said, beginning to remember something. She kept her gun in both hands as she spoke and followed him. "What's your name anyway?"
"Demon," he said, a scratchy chuckle emitting from his throat.
"Demon?" Claire asked, voice dripping with doubt. "What's your REAL name?"
"They call me Demon, baby. Don't ask for anymore than that, or else I'll hafta prove why."
Whoa boy, this guy is getting creepier by the second...
Claire was silent as she followed him down the hall after that. Approaching the first door, she saw it was completely shut, and felt a bit better. The zombies couldn't open doors. But looking out the wall of windows, her consolation withered. What was once a courtyard was now a graveyard for undead bodies. They were pacing in the shadows the trees provided in the afternoon sun. What was worse? she wondered. The zombies out there or the psychopath in front of her?
One of the zombies had caught sight of them, and was already slamming his head into the glass by the time they reached the last panel of glass on the wall. Claire watched it as she walked by—she couldn't help it—studying it's torn features. She could see its white jawbone, she could see it cracked from being gnawed on. Each time it's head hit the glass with a deaf thump, it's forehead seemed to mush in further and further, brownish streaks of greasy fluid slipping down its face and the glass.
She really wished Leon or Chris were with her.
A large crash startled her out of her trance so bad, she forgot her gun had no bullets and almost pressed the trigger in that direction, but was glad she didn't as soon as she saw what it was. Demon had just kicked his way through a heavily locked door. Heavily. Locked. She saw the deadbolts that had been fastened flying in bits across the tile within the room behind the door.
He's either incredibly strong, or so insane he can't feel pain...
She crossed past the door as he went inside, her staying outside just in case, to catch sight of him messing with a rifle laying on a table that was a complete disaster area. Gun lockers and cages were hanging wide open. No doubt the panic of zombies and Lickers overrode the need to lock those things up. Claire entered slowly and immediately went for clips she knew would fit her gun. Without hesitation, she grabbed one as she popped the empty from her gun and let it hit the floor and slapped the fresh—and full—one into place. Demon grinned slyly.
"Thought you said you were packin', Angel."
Claire gave him a weak, sarcastic grin back.
"I lied." She aimed the gun at him with one hand. "But don't think my threat changes any, dude. You try to come within arms' reach of me, I put one in your forehead."
He was watching her. Her voice was shaky, but her eyes were intent. She wasn't lying at all. Demon turned and went to grab a box of rifle bullets from one of the open lockers. A raspy chuckle emitted from his throat.
"You're a smart girl, ain'tcha? Smart indeed. You take bullshit from NO one."
"Especially so from men who allude to being murderers and rapists," Claire snapped, feeling more awake than before from the reality hitting her about the situation..
It was just like Chief Irons, when he had her at gunpoint in his taxidermy chamber under the RPD. He had PLANS to do horrible, horrible things to her. He told her he did, even though he never gave details. Rape her, maybe? Inflict terrible pain for hours and then dear, surely. It was maddening, the kind of people out there. Especially someone like Irons, Chief of the Raccoon City Police. Murderer, torturer, possible rapist—she was never a victim before and she didn't intend to ever be one. She'd rip someone's heart out with her bare hands if she had to, especially now, after all she had been through.
Demon looked at her, startled. But it looked too staged to be real.
"Murderer! Murderer?! I am not a murderer OR a rapist." He suddenly shot her one of those rotten-toothed grins again. "I prefer... 'Drafter of the Other Side' and 'Personal Pleasure Seeker'..."
Claire twitched and then found herself speaking before she knew what she wanted to say:
"Then kill yourself and masterba—"
A shriek. Claire knew it all too well. Adrenaline hit her veins in a split second. The mutated Licker. Her knee suddenly felt perfectly fine from the violent hormonal response and she kicked the door shut and shoved the barrel of the gun to his face.
"NOT playing with you!" she yelled, grabbing for the rifle he held.
Demon grinned, as if it were a game, and twisted the rifle so the butt slammed into her gut. Claire gasped involuntarily from that and pulled the trigger of her gun, but he had managed to knock her hand to the side so the bullet crashed into the door. In response—and in reflex—she swung her foot between his legs and nailed him dead center. Demon cried out a bit and went to hit her with the rifle once more. Claire stumbled backwards to avoid the hit, her hand still catching part of the swing. She pointed at him again, when the door, just a few feet from her, bent in the middle like something hard slammed into it. A sharp, startled cry escaped her mouth and she staggered away, tripping and hitting the floor hard.
Demon looked around and saw that the ceiling was paneled, and was soon up on the center table and removing a panel to slide up out of sight. His feet were disappearing into the upper darkness just she bad a god 18 rounds as the Licker slammed completely through.
That bastard--!
Claire opened fire, squeezing the trigger over and over as the Licker went for her. Something went right, she figured, when the Licker began to flail like mad. Claire grabbed three more clips before leaping to her feet and making a hopefully not too futile attempt to get past it. She felt something slap her back lightly as she sprinted past it—no doubt it's tongue—and darted out of the room, for a service elevator to the right of the door—the normal elevator to its left.
It was soon, too soon, after she was out of the room that she heard the table clatter around in the armory room, another shriek, and the rapid click of claws scrambling across tile, out of the room, and after its dinner.
As she came to the service elevator, she rose her foot and kicked the buttons, not caring if she hit "down" or "up", before pushing around by use of the wall and firing on the Licker more. She heard the elevator making it's way to her, and heard the doors opening as she fired. Originally, she was going to get in, but it was too risky.
Ten feet—seven—five—three—at about two feet, Claire dove to the side and the Licker attempted to stop, but slid across the tile, straight into the elevator, and crashed to the back of it. And hard enough for her to feel the vibrations where she had landed. Slowly, the doors began to shut and she begged in silent prayer it wouldn't get out before the metal doors shut completely. She cried out when that tongue snapped out—but then the doors crashed shut, perhaps due to a mechanical error, and she heard the Licker squeal within. Why, Claire hadn't a clue, until the elevator began to descend and soon all that was left was a piece of tongue laying on the white tile, sliced off by door.
Claire tried to force herself to breathe normally, but she knew she couldn't. Demon was out there, as were a whole town population of zombies, and a Licker that would probably be getting loose somewhere in the basement within a few seconds. Body aching, she pulled to her feet and shakily ran back to the armory room to fully load up on clips... and that's when, somehow, the glass wall to the zombie-filled courtyard shattered straight down the hall, leaving nothing between her and them.