Chapter Four: Now I'm Here
Heavy footsteps making soft splashes in the ever-present rainwater, Tony's gloved hand reached for the metal handle of the door. When he felt the handle turn easily, the door swinging open with a soft *creak* of rusty hinges, he was relieved to find such a convenient entrance to the station's courtyard, but disappointed by the lack of foresight on the police's part in the simple task of securing their home turf. With a shrug, the young man stepped through the open gateway before turning to close the door, securing the long bar lock as he did.
That should keep those stumbling stiffs out... Unless they realize they can just reach through the gate, and slide it back, he mused to himself.
Turning away from the door, the young man's icy blue eyes surveyed his new surroundings. Chuckling under his breath, the red-coated youth shook his head, hands resting on his hips as he took in the courtyard ahead.
"Gee..."
It was a standard small courtyard, complete with green grass, and even a park bench for officers and civilian guests to sit on... along with several large, open impromptu graves, with numerous bodies wrapped in white sheets stained with blood resting by them, a few wooden boards serving as markers jutting out above the filled ones.
"I feel safer already," he murmured dryly.
A graveyard, even a hastily made one, was probably the last place anyone wanted to be during an outbreak of the living dead. With a sigh, the snowy-haired mercenary started forward, stepping in-between the spaces between the graves. Walking over the graves themselves felt disrespectful... and knowing his luck, one of the corpses would wake up from their dirt nap, and get grabby with his boots. The last thing he needed was mud on them to go along with the blood that had already probably gotten all over them on his way here.
"And people think the walking dead's scary? Wait'll they see how much I'm charging 'em for cleaning up this mess," he uttered aloud, mostly to break the monotonous sound of falling rain.
Stepping past an open grave which held two more bodies wrapped in white tarps, the white-haired man exited the courtyard, arriving in front of a descending set of stairs, the only other pathway to the right of them barred off with several sturdy pieces of wood nailed in place.
Leaning his head a little ways to the side to better peer through the gaps in the boards, Tony spotted the front gate of the station's entrance, where several dozen ghouls had gathered, their hungry moans reverberating loudly, even from the distance between himself and them. Looking away, Redgrave turned his gaze towards the bottom of the stairs, where a single light illuminated an empty stairway, the pale hue reflecting off the blue brick stones giving them an eerie glow.
Smirking, the man slipped his hands into the pockets of his coat, and began descending the stairs. If he had felt like it, he could have torn those boards blocking him down with little effort, and head straight for the station's front doors.
...But where was the fun in that?
"I'm nothing, if not adventurous," he reminded himself as he arrived at the bottom of the stairway. His gaze scanned over the walls before settling on the right side of the stairway less than three feet away from himself, a door with a glass pane window grabbing his attention.
"Let's see what's behind door number two..." the boy mused as he approached the door, stopping in front of it, his eyes falling on the handle, which was wrapped tightly with a metal chain and lock bound next to a pipeline jutting down from the top of the stairway's ceiling.
Unable to resist a soft chuckle and a wry grin, the crimson-coated mercenary quickly flexed his left and right hands while calling loudly, "Aw, man, wouldja look at that? The door's locked! Oh, whatever shall I do?"
His right hand reached out, grasping the dangling lock, palming it for a moment, as if testing its weight, before his fingers closed tightly over it. A heavy metallic *crunch* issued, only faintly muffled. With a harsh tug, Redgrave tore the chain away, tossing it aside, the metal skidding across the wet pavement with a clatter.
Looking down at his hand, he slowly unwrapped his fingers, staring down at the crushed lock almost curiously before turning his palm down, and letting it fall to the ground as well. With that done, suddenly finding himself grateful that Claire wasn't around - saving him the trouble of having to come up with a way to distract her beforehand - Tony grasped the handle, and pulled the door open, stepping inside the small room. He took in the new surroundings, not that there was much to see.
It was a small room, with a large box chest secured against the wall in front of him, a small table and foldable chair tucked in the left-hand corner next to it, a set of lockers lining the right side of the room, and a small radiator tucked opposite the table. The mercenary in red glanced down at the top of the small table, his eyes catching sight of the single object laying atop it, and his grin returned, his hand reaching out to pick it up.
"And it's not even my birthday," he mused aloud as he held the item closer to inspect it.
It was a handgun: a sleek, large caliber Colt .45 M19, which packed a heavier punch than the Beretta he had been using. Ejecting the clip, pleased to see it was fully loaded with a bullet already chambered, Tony slammed the magazine back home, giving the gun a twirl as he pulled his coat open, about to stick the weapon in one of his many pockets when he paused.
Considering the lengths he had gone to avoid getting bitten by any of the walking dead, the young man realized it wasn't the smartest idea to just jam his new toy in an unsecured pocket in his coat on the off chance it would happen to fall out. And knowing his luck, it probably would before he'd get a chance to even use it. With an annoyed sigh, he placed the Colt back down on the table, his eyes once more looking over the small room.
"Alright, if I were a cop, where would I keep a spare holster?" he asked himself aloud, his blue orbs falling on the large chest to the right of the table.
Hunching over slightly, Tony grasped the heavy top of the chest, and, with no real effort, shoved the top open, exposing the interior of the crate. Another smile formed on his lips; his eyes gleaming excitedly.
"Paydirt!"
Tucked inside the container were five orange boxes of .45 caliber rounds, another box of empty magazines to load them in, and what really had inspired his current shit-eating grin: a sleek, black steel revolver, a Ruger Blackhawk, gleaming almost sexily in what little light the room had to offer.
Bending down to grasp the heavy revolver, rising back to his full height and holding the weapon close for inspection, Tony whistled as he looked the gun over. It was a Quickdraw Army variant, he discovered, and one that was extremely well maintained, the mercenary not finding a single scratch or even a smudge staining its pristine metal.
"Nell would just love to get her hands on you, baby," the gunslinger stated aloud, breaking the chamber open, and inspecting the empty holes for dust or anything else that would obstruct the rounds, pleased to find nothing of the sort.
He pushed the cylinder home, and placed the large revolver on the table next to the Colt. As he pulled his hand away from the hilt of the weapon, he spotted a curious engraving on the wooden handle. It was a stylized horse's tail, or even the feathered wing of a bird or an angel.
"Or better yet, I know a certain cowgirl who could put you to some use," he concluded, his smile softening, though it vanished when he suddenly realized he wasn't even sure if Claire had made it to the station yet.
The thought of her being chased by the horde of undead populating the city's burning streets, with nothing to defend herself with...
Cut that crap out. Claire's tough, you know that. Tougher than some staggering corpses. She's fine, and waiting for you inside the station somewhere...
"So focus, and hurry it up already," Tony gritted to himself, his voice taking a rougher edge.
Snatching the ammo and magazine boxes, the gunman shoved them onto the table before slamming the crate close, and moved for the small row of lockers on the room's right wall. The middle one was already open, where an officer's utility belt lay atop a small pile of clothes, which was the Raccoon City Police's standard uniform, he assumed.
Taking the belt, the man in red gave the uniform a curious glance before scoffing. "Blue's so not my color..."
He was about to turn away when he saw a key rack with a lone key hanging off a single hook, a small leather tag attached to it. Tony plucked the key off of it, looking over the tag, and seeing the word 'Courtyard' stitched on it. Giving the small metal item a little twirl, the merc pocketed it with a shrug. He had a feeling he'd probably never even use it, but you never know...
Securing the holster from the belt under his right arm to mirror the one already under his left, Tony took the hip pouch from the belt as well, pleased with how deep the interior was. Holstering his new Colt, the young man went to work loading the magazines with the .45 rounds. He finished in no time at all, five clips of ammo richer, the hip pouch holding them all easily, and with almost nineteen rounds left over in the last box. Quickly loading the heavy revolver, he slipped it into one of his coat's deeper side pockets, while shoving the remaining ammo in another.
He briefly toyed with the idea of ditching the Beretta, but decided against it. It still had a few rounds left, and there was always the chance he'd find some more nine-millimeter ammunition inside the station. And if he didn't, he'd save it as a last resort.
Fully locked, loaded, and acutely aware of the time ticking away, each second leaving his significant other's fate further in doubt, Tony exited the guardroom, and made his way for a second flight of stairs, practically dashing up them two at a time, arriving at the top in moments. He found himself on the other side of the courtyard, this side being a brick path with the station's iron gate looming ominously over some bushes and shrubbery, various gardening tools laying about. A large dumpster was situated all the way across the court, with at least half a dozen bodies sprawled about the yard by a few empty park benches.
As the pale-haired youth slowed his pace to observe the bodies, his head inclined ever so slightly, his ears picking up a strange, heavy humming sound. One that was familiar, but he couldn't quite place his finger on where he had heard it before...
The answer came roaring and twirling past him a split-second later, and he remembered it was the sound of a helicopter's blades whirring through air, just as he saw a long gray shape with blurred blades careen about, before slamming into the side of the station with a heavy crashing sound. Shuttering steel collided with crumbling brick, mortar, and wood. His icy eyes followed the trail of smoke left in the copter's wake, Tony's expression once more bemused.
"Ha! Road-ragin' tankers, explosions, zombies, and now crashing choppers? This city's got it all! I should've gone here with Claire sooner."
Following the smoke trail, he spotted another fenced-off section of the courtyard surrounding a metal fire escape, the tail end of the copter hanging out the side of the station's brick wall it had crashed into. Seeing the single wire-fenced door spurred him to move quicker, his strides longer, bringing him in front of it in the blink of an eye. His gloved hand reached out to snatch the metal handle-
Finding it securely locked in place. Tony sighed, rolling his eyes, and scowling down on the offending handle.
"Of course the one door they remembered to lock up is the one I need open..." he bemoaned. It seemed his luck had turned rotten once again, which he figured.
As the pale-haired man contemplated the door for another moment, he heard a soft metallic hinge squeak softly under the pitter-patter of rain, accompanied by footsteps on metal. Glancing up towards the source of the sound, Tony felt his heart skip a beat when he saw a slim figure in pink holding a flashlight, inspecting the copter tail, her long, auburn hair's ponytail unmistakable, even in the near pitch-blackness.
I should gripe more often. My luck always seems to come up afterwards, his mind rambled as his grin returned.
Sticking the tips of his fingers into his mouth, the young man issued a high-pitched whistle that made his girlfriend jump and do a double take, her eyes whipping back and forth as she sought the source of the sound.
"DOWN HERE, SWEETHEART!" he called with a chuckle, and a heartbeat later, Claire Redfield's face appeared from over the railing, looking down at him with a similarly elated grin.
"TONY!" she called back, her face lighting up beautifully, and the young man felt a tension he hadn't noticed building ease from his chest, the relief sweet, and much needed. "HOLD ON, I'LL BE RIGHT THERE!" she shouted before disappearing momentarily.
Still smirking, Tony returned his attention to the locked door, his aggravation returning as he realized it was the last obstacle between him and his significant other. That aggravation was forgotten once again when Claire finished dashing down the fire escape to stand on the opposite side of the door in front of them, her smile just as cheerful as his, her grey-blue eyes filled with the same relief as his own.
Leaning against the fenced frame of the door, Tony offered her an eased grin before speaking first. "Babe, you are a sight for sore eyes, lemme tell ya. This whole 'zombie epidemic' thing? It's fun and all, but I think I prefer the living over the dead, y'know? Least they don't want a piece of me literally." He then looked up at the crashed helicopter, gesturing to it with his right hand. "By the way, it looks like the city might need a new chopper pilot. Think they're hiring?"
She laughed at that, and that was another relief, mostly because he had feared he'd never hear such a lovely sound again after their fight in her dorm room.
"It's good to see you, too, Tony. Took you a while to get here, though. You get lost on the way?" she asked, her smile becoming teasing.
The red-coated youth scoffed, waving her words off. "Nah, just wanted to take in the sights a bit 'fore headin' on over here. Could've done without the ghouls breathing down my neck the entire way, though..."
He rattled the door between them handle again, letting out another aggravated huff. Looking back at Claire, he asked, "Don't suppose you'd happen to have the key for the gate on your lovely person?"
The college student shook her head, offering him a "Sorry, I don't."
He let out an aggravated sigh, "Figures. I come all this way to save the day, but it's not the undead we've gotta worry about. It's a locked door!"
That got a small chuckle from the young woman as she shook her head, giving him another smile. He found himself just wanting to stare back at her, to let this moment last for as long as it could...
But it couldn't, and he needed to focus on the situation at hand.
"You find out anything about your brother?" Tony inquired gently, his smile dropping.
It was a loaded question, because if the inside of the station was even half as bad as the nightmare the rest of the city had become, then he feared what that would mean for Claire's brother.
To his surprise, the girl's grin only widened further, her eyes gleaming in excitement as she eagerly leaned closer against the fenced door. "I did! I found out about a lead inside his team's office. And now that you're here, I know we can get to it! With it, I'll be able to find out where he went!"
Her excitement was contagious, the young man's grin returning as he nodded. "Finally, some much needed good news outta this hellhole!" He then chuckled, his excited smirk easing back to an earnest smile. "I'm glad to hear it... So, uh, what else's cookin', good-lookin'?"
Before she could respond, there was a faint popping sound followed by a low crack-
Which became a rushing roar as flames exploded around the crashed helicopter, the sudden force and wave of heat washing over the two, causing Claire to whirl around in alarm while Tony only gave the flaming whirlybird a curious glance.
"Huh. That answers that question," he murmured aloud as the young woman turned back around to face him, though her eyes gazed behind him, her pale, rain-soaked face suddenly filled with fresh terror.
"...Tony, you need to run."
Frowning and raising a fine white brow, he glanced over his shoulder to see what the girl was staring at.
Seemingly drawn by the blazing fire, dozens upon dozens of zombies pushed against the heavy iron fence, their sheer numbers succeeding in pushing the bars, pairs and pairs of pale, blood-soaked rotting hands desperately grasping out for the living flesh only just out of their reach. Inside the courtyard, the various bodies of the men and women the young man had walked past had begun to stumble back onto their feet, their vacant eyes all locked on him.
Turning around entirely, he glared at the zombies in fresh annoyance, huffing a sigh and shaking his head. "Guess that was the dinner bell..."
Behind him, Claire spoke again, her tone increasingly frantic with every word. "Tony, seriously, they're getting through the gate. You need to run now."
He really didn't want to run away. Not again. And if he was separated from her again, there was no telling when or if they'd ever cross paths within the increasingly chaotic environment that Raccoon City had become. The young mercenary watched as the three closest shuffling bodies made their way at a snail's pace for him across the courtyard-
When it hit him. He blinked, his surprise mixing with the sheer obviousness of it, and the fact it had taken until now for it to click in his head. Laughing, his smile returning, the crimson-coated mercenary spun around on the top of his heel, the tail end of his coat flapping from the sudden motion, which made the biker girl blink and flinch before she stared at him incredulously as his hands began rifling through the many pockets in the interior of his coat.
"What are you doing?! You need to run now!" she screamed, her fingers locking through the mesh wire of the fence as she watched him with wide eyes filled with disbelief as he continued searching his coat's pockets.
"No, no, s'all good. Just gotta remember where I put it..." Tony brushed off her concern with a casual dismissal, while behind him the zombies staggered ever closer, the nearest one a fat man in a police uniform, blood running down his open mouth as he groaned in hunger.
Just as the mercenary was beginning to get impatient, wondering if he had stuck it in his pants pocket instead of one in his coat's, his fingers brushed a familiar leather tag, bringing a triumphant smile to his face just as Claire's morphed into an expression of terror.
"BEHIND YOU!" she screamed.
Tony felt a warm, foul breath on the back of his neck, punctuated by a sudden snarling groan-
-just as his left arm snapped back, his elbow colliding with the fat zombie's jaw, dislocating it in a spurt of black blood and tearing flesh, the corpse thrown back and colliding with the other two approaching zombies, its heavier build sending all three sprawling onto the ground.
With a grin like a cat that had caught the canary, Tony Redgrave proudly held the small key with the leather tag labeled 'Courtyard' up to the flabbergasted college student. "I was so caught up in all the excitement, I forgot I had the key on me the whole time!"
With that, the white-haired youth slipped the key into the lock, twisted it, and easily opened the door, stepping inside the fenced fire escape area before slamming the door closed, and re-locking it just as the zombies had begun to feebly crawl towards the young couple.
Tony gave the ghouls a mocking sneer as he casually dropped the courtyard key to the ground with a contemptuous laugh. "Sorry, folks, but it looks like you'll have to eat out somewhere else. We're closed for the night."
Behind him, after letting out a long sigh of relief, Claire reached for a radio hooked onto her belt, her grey-blue eyes looking past the gated door towards the herd of zombies pounding against the larger iron wrought fence, a few of the thinner ones managing to force their way through about half-way.
"Not good..." she whispered before pressing a button on the radio, a hiss of static issuing before she began to speak again. "Hey, Marvin, this is bad," she started saying as she began making her way back up the fire escape's steps, causing Tony to whirl around in sudden confusion.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up, who the hell's 'Marvin?!'"
The young woman ignored him, turning up the stairs just as her boyfriend was following her, his eyes lingering on the shape of her bottom shorts for a second more before he forced himself to focus.
"I found Tony, but there's zombies everywhere!"
"Her boyfriend, just so you know!" he called from behind her, causing the Redfield girl to whirl around with a glare.
"For God's sake, grow up! Marvin's a police officer; maybe the last one alive in the entire building! He's been helping me find a way out of this deathtrap!"
The flippant youth met her glare with a wry smirk as he responded, "Well, I'm here now, so we'll be kissin' this joint goodbye in no time."
To that, Claire rolled her eyes and murmured, "Oh, brother..."
She looked back at the radio, pressing the receive button, but only getting static. Hitting the transmit switch, she called into the device, "Marvin? Marvin, are you there?! Marvin?!"
She pressed the receive button again, but still, only static was her response.
"Oh god, you gotta be kidding me!" she whispered in disbelief mixed with anxiety.
She hooked the radio back onto her belt, moving for the door to the station's upper hallway when Tony's hand snatched her wrist, preventing her from turning the knob.
"What are you doing?!" Claire demanded, looking up to see the young man's attention drawn to a nearby window, observing the flickering yellow-orange flames from the helicopter wreckage.
"Well, before you go in there to check up on ol' Marv, I got a question for ya: do you prefer your zombies regular, or extra crispy?"
The question caused the young college student to blink and sputter "Wait, what?" when something smacked against the window, making her jump when she saw it was a zombie, this one covered head-to-toe in flames. It beat its burning fists weakly against the window, staring at them with eyes hidden by waves of heat and fire.
"That wasn't in there before... I just came from that hallway," she muttered, stunned.
Her fellow survivor nodded, replying, "Yeah, that's what I thought. I prefer the usual variety of undead, myself. My guess is the chopper had survivors, who probably weren't as alive as they appeared. They turned, attacked the pilot, causing the copter to crash and explode with them inside it. They pulled themselves out, and voila. Burning undead."
Before she could say anything else, her boyfriend gripped the side-railing of the fire escape, and hoisted himself over, smoothly falling back down to the ground level and in front of the only other door.
From above, Claire called to him, "Don't bother; it's been chained up! We're just gonna have to make a run for it-"
She stopped when she heard a soft metallic *clank,* and peered over to see a smug Tony holding the yellow chain up before letting it drop to the gravel-covered ground below.
"We're in luck! Wasn't secured properly! Now come on, babe, let's get outta this rain!"
The auburn-haired girl blinked in surprise, murmuring, "I could've sworn... Well, whatever. This'll be faster, anyway."
Looking away, Claire made for the steps down the fire escape, while below, Tony's boot stepped over a crushed chain link that had previously held the entire length in place, his foot dragging suddenly to kick it through a small gap in the fence, the broken bit vanishing into the rainwater and shadows. The red-coated man waited for the pink-vested woman to arrive by the door, and when she did, he gripped the handle with his left hand, his right reaching into his coat to produce his new Colt, his thumb over the hammer of the gun.
Giving Claire a wry smile, the gunman spoke smoothly and jovially. "While normally I'd hold the door open for you, babe, I'm putting chivalry on hold for the moment... Just in case."
She returned the smile, though one not as confident as his, her grey-blue eyes filled with worry and apprehension. Letting his own smile fall away, the man turned his gaze ahead as he quickly turned the knob, and swung the door open, sweeping his handgun out for anything that moved, undead or otherwise. Aside from a large pile of corpses in the left-hand corner to go with the heavy splashes of blood across the walls, nothing was alive or undead as far as he could see.
Stepping inside the corridor, Tony's icy eyes scanned over the bloody bodies while Claire followed after him, the door closing behind them. She stepped gingerly over the corpse of a bald cop with a couple of bullets in its skull, and made her way for the hallway to the right, calling to him over her shoulder as she did.
"It's a bit of a walk, and there's water all over the floor from an overflow, so watch your step."
The young man was following her steps as she spoke, but stopped once he was by a door to his left, this one also chained. Giving the frame a quick look over, his free hand lifted the section of the chain that was looped around both latches.
Glancing up, he called back to her, "Hey, why don't we just cut through here, instead? It's a straight shot, and keeps us from getting our feet wet."
The young woman stopped just as she was reaching the pass around the corridor, looking back at him while replying, "It's locked. Securely this time, unlike the last one."
To that, Tony faced the door again while taking a single step back, before striking out with his right leg in a sudden wild kick, his boot connecting firmly where the lock frame and jamb met, the door flying off its hinges in a spray of splinters and the knob, which bounced across the floor of the newly-revealed office, the door itself flying through the air before smacking into an unlucky zombie officer that happened to be shambling across the room. The floored zombie found itself flat on its back, the door frame on top of it, groaning pathetically and feebly shoving its arms against the obstruction atop it when a black boot descended, the wild stomp crushing the corpse's head in a splatter of blood, mashed skull, and pulpy gray matter.
Raising his boot up to study the gore sticking to its sole, Redgrave grimaced. "Ugh. And here I thought there was nothin' worse than stepping on dog crap."
Claire, who had watched the entire spectacle in befuddled silence, mouth agape when she saw how easily Tony kicked a solid wood door down with a single kick, managed to shake herself out of her stupor, following after the man in red into the office as he scraped the worse of the bloody mess at the bottom of his boot against the door frame.
Looking from the ruined jamb to the shattered door on the ground, Redfield could only shrug. "Well, that's... one way to get past a locked door, I suppose."
Tony uttered a short guffaw as he inspected his boot once again, seemingly satisfied that there was only a sheen of blood left at the bottom of it. "Told ya, babe. With me around, gettin' outta here will be a piece of cake."
Placing his foot back down, the youth kicked the door off the officer's corpse before bending down, his hands patting at the permanently deceased man's belt.
Claire blinked, watching his hands move along the dead man's belt before asking, "What are you doing?"
The gunslinger continued searching until he found a small hip pouch by the man's left hip, his hand swiftly opening it, and producing a lone clip of ammunition. Rising back up as he slipped the procured bullets into one of his coat's many pockets, he simply replied, "We can use these. He can't."
She frowned at his words, her expression giving away her disapproval of pilfering a dead man's body, but she nodded nonetheless. She may not like it, but Tony wasn't wrong. They would need the bullets. Sooner rather than later, probably.
Stepping over the officer's body, the young man surveyed the large office space they found themselves in, spying another dead cop's body propped against the wall under a boarded window, where a zombie was currently banging its rotting fists against the glass, snarling as it watched him approach the body.
"Look around for anything else that might be useful."
The college student nodded again, walking along the rows of desks all lined up together while murmuring, "Alright."
Before crouching down next to this cop's body, the merc gave it a hard kick to its side, scowling when he felt a rib snap under the spongy flesh, but other than jerking from the impact, the body didn't move.
So some stay dead for good, while others get back up to look for a snack. Be nice if there was a way to tell the dead apart from the undead...
Pushing his internal thoughts aside, he crouched down, and unbuttoned the cop's ammo pack, producing two more clips of nine-millimeter ammunition, though he was disappointed to see the officer's sidearm was missing. Rising back up, Tony paused to look at the ghoul still banging its fists uselessly against the boarded window before walking away, slipping the clips into the same pocket he placed the first one. Up ahead at the end of the row of desks not far from the double doors that led out of the office, Claire was looking over something she had found, but was already putting it in her side pack before her companion could identify it, the young woman making her way to the lone office to her left to check it last.
Deciding to let her search that space alone, the white-haired man headed towards the double doors, finding a single chair, half a dozen heavy books stacked atop its seat, secured firmly under the doors handles.
As Tony yanked the chair away, Claire called from his left, "Tony, catch!"
Glancing aside, the crimson-coated man's left hand shot out to catch the object the young woman had tossed, his eyes narrowing curiously when he saw it was a large red handle; the kind one would find attached to the valve of a pipe.
Holding it closer to study it, the young mercenary inquired to his girlfriend, "What's this for? Bashin' their heads in if we run outta ammo?"
Walking over to him, smirking cheekily, Claire replied, "You'll just have to wait and see, won't you? Hold onto it for me, okay?"
Returning her grin, Tony tossed the valve handle into the air, catching it again before slipping it into one of his coat's larger pockets by his hip while saying "Sure thing, baby."
Taking the lead, he pushed the double doors open, sweeping his Colt out to follow the beam from Claire's flashlight, but aside from a still corpse with a crushed skull laying limp at the top of some steps, they were the only things in the small corridor. He followed her up the stairs, coming up to a sealed steel shutter. Tony then holstered his handgun before grabbing the corpse, heaving it aside onto the floor below, where it landed with a soft splash from the overflowing water.
Kneeling, he felt along the shutter's edge, speaking to his girlfriend as he did. "I'll have this up in no time, babe. Just gimme one sec-"
Before he could even begin, a soft electrical hum suddenly issued, followed by a low grind of metal against metal as the shutter began to rise smoothly on its own, letting the faint light from the large hall in. The snowy-haired youth blinked rapidly, letting his eyes adjust before looking back to Claire, who was standing next to a small electronic panel, where he saw two fuses fitted inside, one wrapped in tape with the words 'Main Hall Shutter' written on it.
Her cheeky smile returning, she walked past Tony while saying, "Work smarter, not harder, babe."
For once, the loudmouth found himself lacking a retort, but grinned after a moment, shaking his head.
As Claire walked into the station's Main Hall, taking long strides, she began calling out, "Marvin?!"
Tony followed behind her at a slower pace, taking in the new sights of the hall, whistling when he spotted the large statue at its center overlooking the entire space.
"Pretty fancy setup for a police station," he said aloud, head craning back to look at both upper levels.
"It used to be a museum," she called back, the answer making the red-clad merc blink in surprise while the auburn-haired woman was walking up the small slope while calling out again, "Marvin!"
She disappeared around the upper corner, walking out of his line of vision as she moved behind some medical curtains. The boy lowered his gaze and started after Claire, moving just a bit quicker. Arriving at the base of the statue in the center of the hall, he spotted her kneeling next to the unmoving body of a cop laying sprawled out on a bench, a smaller table next to him with an open laptop just an arm's length away. Tony remained silent, his icy eyes looking over the officer, noting the pale pallor on his dark skin, giving it an unhealthy gray sheen, and the large splashes of blood on his hands and over his gut, where they clutched it protectively.
Claire was checking a small first aid box on the floor by the policeman, before sighing with relief, and standing back up, glancing back at him as she began to speak, "He's just unconscious. I think he took some heavy-duty painkillers from this kit, and knocked himself out."
Walking back down the incline towards the bottom of the hall, she spoke back to him as she walked, "I'm gonna lower the shutters so nothing can try to slip in. Hopefully, that'll keep Marvin safe while he rests. Poor guy was in a lot of pain, so he probably needs it."
As Claire walked down towards the shutter on the hall's west side, Tony slowly approached Marvin, his eyes locked on the bloody wound on his side. Crouching down next to the unconscious man, he glanced up, spotting his girlfriend heading towards the east side, the other shutter coming down with a soft mechanical hum. Turning back to the officer, the mercenary lifted one of the man's bloody hands away to get a better look at his wound. Confirming his suspicions, the pale-haired man saw the torn and ragged flesh, with the unmistakable patterns of human teeth marks. Rising back up, wiping the back of his fingers against his coat, Tony stared down at Marvin, his smile gone, his expression hardened but forlorn.
There was no use denying it. The poor bastard had been bitten by one of the zombies.
And while they don't follow the headshot rule to a T, they follow the rules when it comes to bites...
He had seen it himself back at the gas station. The store clerk had turned in the mere minutes it had taken him to get to the back office of the shop, and back to the front.
That guy was bitten in the neck, while Marv, here, was bitten on his side. Claire's only been here for a while, but he's still breathing... For now.
Maybe it was different for everyone, whatever it was that turned the living into the undead, with some turning quicker than others.
...But they still turn eventually, his mind concluded grimly. And that meant Marvin was a risk to him and Claire, because sooner or later, he would become one of the many monsters lurking in the necropolis Raccoon City had become.
Unconsciously, Tony felt his hand drifting under his coat, his fingers brushing the hilt of his Colt-
-when approaching footsteps undertoned by a fading ring of steel settling against the floor broke him from his reverie, Claire's voice calling just behind him, "Tony?... What's up? You have a weird look on your face..." Turning around, he saw that the young woman was approaching from behind him, her brow furrowed in concern.
Bringing his easy-going grin back, he replied coolly, "Just checkin' on ol' Marv, here. That's a pretty nasty gash on his side. I gotta admit, I'm impressed he held out this long before knockin' himself out."
Stepping away from the unconscious police officer, Redgrave jerked his thumb at the large statue, giving it a look over before saying, "Lemme guess: this eyesore's a holdover from this station's museum days?"
Claire nodded, pointing at a series of engravings at the base of the statue, explaining, "Yeah, I think so. But more importantly, it's our ticket out of here. See these crests there? We need one more, and it'll open a secret passage that leads to a way out of here. Hopefully somewhere zombie-free."
Tony did a double take, his eyes darting from the biker girl then back to the statue, his tone filled with disbelief as he exclaimed, "Why the hell would a police station have a secret passage under it?!"
The college student shrugged, waving her hand as she said, "No idea. But it's our best shot at getting out of here. I know where the last medallion is, but we're gonna make a short stop to my brother's squad's office before we get it."
The youngest Redfield sibling headed towards a lone door with a green spade insignia on it, producing a small key from her pack, and slipping it into the lock, unlocking the door while saying, "C'mon. The fastest way to get to where we need to go is through here."
As the young woman was stepping back as the door's lock issued a soft *click,* Tony gave Marvin one last glance before he followed after her as she unlocked the door.
"I haven't been through this room yet, so I'm not sure what to expect."
In response, the gunslinger drew his sidearm, which was answer enough. She dropped the key back into her pouch, and pulled out her flashlight while drawing her own revolver. Pushing the door open, the two stepped in, Claire leading this time, the beam of her flashlight sweeping over the new area.
It was another office area filled with more desks, and a couple of metal bookshelves filled with various binders and stacks of folders. While there was a large, dry pool of blood at the base of the small steps leading down into the office, there was only one body lying crumpled at the farthest desk closest to the only door out of the room. Hanging from the ceiling was a curious sight: party decorations that spelled 'WELCOME LEON' in colorful letters, along with various party favors strewn about across the desks.
As Claire's light beam flashed over the decorations, Tony gave them a curious look over, muttering to himself, "Looks like they were plannin' a party."
The woman descended the steps carefully, minding the few still-wet spots of blood before replying quietly, "Yeah, well, I'd say it's been cancelled."
Redgrave followed her, smirking while saying, "Shame, 'cause he's missing one helluva bash."
Taking out his own flashlight after holstering his Colt again, the boy strode towards the collapsed body at the far desk, the collegiate girl warning him, "Tony, be careful. These things have a bad habit of playing dead."
In response to that, the merc's hand shot out, snatching the inanimate corpse by the back of its skull. The effect was instantaneous, the undead snarling and snapping its head back, arms flailing about, making Claire jump. Tony, looking more annoyed than afraid, simply tightened his hold on the ghoul's head, yanking it back before slamming it down onto the desk, where it had been resting previously, with enough force to crack the top, and smash the zombie's head into a gory pulp.
Claire winced at the sound of breaking bone mixed with ripping flesh and crumpling wood, her eyes narrowing in disgust as her boyfriend casually searched the corpse, huffing in aggravation when he found the ammo pack empty. Rising back up, he gave the body a contemptuous shove, knocking it onto the floor, its chair following it with a loud clatter.
Giving the brute a glare, the girl mockingly inquired, "Can't you go one minute without breaking something?"
She saw Tony smirk in the beam of her flashlight as he shrugged. "I mean, I could if I tried... But where's the fun in that?"
Claire groaned and rolled her eyes in response as she moved for the door, her boyfriend waiting for her.
She gripped the handle but didn't turn it, looking up at him while saying in a hushed voice just above a whisper, "There's one zombie out there, but it's totally focused on a vending machine. If we move quietly, we can sneak past it."
Hearing that, the youth snorted, fighting back a laugh. "Oh, this I gotta see."
Claire, annoyed at his flippancy, smacked the back of her hand against his chest, though it did more harm for her than him, a small wince flinching over her face while Redgrave remained unfazed. "Get serious, please?"
Her boyfriend held up his hands in surrender, nodding. Sighing in relief, she opened the door very slowly, moving lightly on her feet as she stepped out into a low-lit hallway. Tony, his own steps light as well, followed after her, but stopped suddenly, looking back when he heard flesh smacking against plastic. When the red-coated mercenary saw that there was, indeed, a zombie distracted by a vending machine, the ghoul packing a huge gut, he covered his mouth to stifle his laughter. Claire nevertheless heard his muffled chortles, anyway, and whirled around, glaring at him with pure frustration in her grey-blue eyes.
"Anthony, get over here!" she hissed harshly.
The man turned away from the undead, his hand still over his mouth to hold back the last of his laughter. But when Claire called him by his first name, there was no ignoring her.
That was the idea in his head, until his eyes spotted another door to his left with a bronzed plate next to it, a single word engraved on it that stopped him dead in his tracks.
ARMORY.
Tony's grin returned, his eyes lighting up like a kid's on Christmas morning. Completely ignoring his partner's urgent order, the crimson-coated mercenary strode towards the door, shoving it open, and stepping inside. His excitement was momentarily muddled when he didn't spy the typical gun rack assortment common in most weapons armories. Instead, there was a large keypad terminal situated in front of a series of large electronic lockers.
Giving the keypad a glance over, his eyes narrowed when he saw it was missing the keypads for the numbers '2' and '3.' Tony quickly walked down the right side aisle of lockers, glancing inside them through the glass cases over the doors. He was further disappointed to see most were empty, save for the third and ninth lockers containing a combat knife and a box of nine-millimeter rounds in a red box, a few empty clips next to them. The pale-haired man huffed a sigh under his breath, almost ready to head back into the hall when he spied an open gate in the back. When he glanced past the iron bars, the excitement in his eyes lit up anew, his grin returning.
Further in the back, the door swung open, Claire scrambling inside quickly but quietly, shutting it behind her before rounding around, her eyes narrowing into a glare when she saw the man in red far in the back.
Storming after him, she angrily growled, "What are you doing in here?! We don't have time to waste exploring every room in this station!"
"Not exploring, babe," Tony replied as he eyed is his newest discovery, his grin wider than ever. "Window shopping."
That comment caught the woman off-guard, momentarily cooling her rising temper as she arrived to stand next to her partner, her gaze following his own, and spotting just what'd had him so excited. Situated in the far back of the room was an electronically-locked gun safe with a pane window door, revealing two rifles secured inside on sets of hooks, the top being a Remington W-870 shotgun, while the bottom was a long gun with a metal gray tube: a GM 79 grenade launcher. Tony whistled, impressed, his gaze wandering over the surface of the safe when he spotted the door handle next to an electronic card reader.
Moving towards the card reader, the merc dragged the back of his gloved palm over it, while next to him, Claire began chiding, "See? It's locked. And that glass is probably shatterproof, so you can't smash it. Now let's go already-"
"You got a knife on ya, right?"
Tony's sudden question caught the girl off-guard, making her fumble for words. "Wha-? H-hey!"
Instead of waiting, his left hand suddenly darted out, slipping behind her back. The young woman tried to twist her head around to follow the youth's arm when she let out a soft yelp, her cheeks flushing red, her surprise quickly morphing into annoyance a moment later when a smirking Tony drew his hand back, knife gripped firmly between his fingers.
"Thought I saw it earlier. Even remembered where you had it, too."
Claire crossed her arms, glaring at him as he examined the blade while gritting her teeth. "You only had to grab the knife..."
Wagging the blade and returning her glare with a smile, the young man could only reply, "Yeeeah, but can ya blame me?"
"I can blame you for a lot of things, but I'll wait until after we've escaped... If we escape..." she murmured, the last part mostly to herself.
Letting his smile fall away for a more somber expression, Tony turned to face the electronic key reader once again, raising the girl's knife as he spoke again. "We're gonna get out of this, Claire. I promise."
His smirk returned suddenly, his eyes glimmering in mirth as he asked, "Wanna see a cool trick?"
Closing her eyes and sighing, the college student raised her hands in defeat. "Not really, but you're gonna do it anyway, so just get on with it."
"Your wish is my command," he declared before suddenly jamming the blade of the knife in the slot of the card reader, and giving it a hard twist. The panel exploded in a shower of electric sparks and bits of metal and plastic. Claire screamed, flinching back while Redgrave laughed, yanking the knife back as the panel continued sparking.
The woman glared at him and yelled, "Are you insane?! Why'd you do that?!"
Her boyfriend didn't respond, instead only holding his empty hand up, index finger raised for a split-second before lowering. As his finger fell, a soft electronic chime issued, followed by a soft *click* of a lock sliding out of place. Blinking, Claire's anger vanished as she watched him grab the gun safe's door, and pull it open.
"You... disabled the lock," she breathed in realization before blinking again as Tony extended his hand holding her knife out to her, offering the small blade hilt-first. She took it, slipping it back into its sheathe before staring up at the man, who was still grinning, though it was a genuine smile, and not his normal cocky one.
"Despite what you might think, babe, I can problem solve every now and then."
With that, he reached into the safe, first grabbing the Remington, looking the long shotgun over appreciatively, before setting it down by its stock against the bottom of the safe. Tony then pulled out the grenade launcher, looking it over, his eyes shining in impression.
"This is some serious firepower for a little place like Raccoon City," he stated, breaking open the stock to inspect it further.
"Maybe they had it stored in case they needed it for... riot control, or something?" Claire guessed.
Tony nodded, snapping the weapon back into place before reaching inside the safe to grab a metal box of shotgun shells, which he placed at the bottom of the safe at his waist level, then grabbing another small case with a red cover. Opening it up, he produced three large shells the size of Claire's fist.
"Napalm... Nice," he said, his grin returning.
He stopped, glancing at the collegiate student before extending his arm out to her, presenting the weapon. The girl blinked, confused and looking up at the boy.
"Take it," he said.
"What? For real? That thing must weigh a ton!" she protested.
Tony shook his head, dropping the weapon into her hands, making her jump, before she blinked again, looking the launcher over in sudden confusion.
"Huh... It's... not that heavy."
"Light, but heavily dangerous," he appraised with a nod, picking the shotgun back up, and opening the case full of shells, before reaching into it as he began loading the rifle. "It suits you."
Claire couldn't stop the smirk from forming on her lips as she watched him continue to load his new shotgun, retorting, "You've sure got a way with words, don'tcha, hot shot?" Tony snorted, pumping the fully-loaded shotgun to chamber a round before slipping the remaining shells into one of his coat's pockets. She looked the launcher over again while saying, "And you definitely know how to pick the best gifts."
That comment sent a spark through the young man's mind, his smile returning as he rounded around to face her again, his hand quickly digging through his many pockets. "Oh yeah, that reminds me! Got another present for ya, babe!"
Claire watched as her boyfriend's hand shuffled from one pocket to another in amusement while saying, "Oh, really? Two gifts in a row? I'm half-tempted to say it's my lucky day."
Still grinning, Tony felt his fingers brush the small parcel wrapped up tightly in his coat's upper pocket, when he paused, his grin falling away.
No... Not yet. Not while we're still in this zombie-infested hellhole...
Huffing a sigh, he drew his hand back, letting it fall into a lower one, where he felt the hilt of the large revolver he had found earlier. Remembering he had wanted to give it to her anyway, the white-haired man produced the Ruger from his coat, before twirling it expertly, gunspinning as he extending his arm to the side, and then back in front of him. The gunslinger then tossed it up into the air, watching the revolver as it fell, before snatching it up, and holding it out to his girlfriend, handle first, his fingers wrapped around the barrel.
The woman looked down at the weapon, blinking in surprise while he began speaking. "Found it on my way over here. Figured you could use something with a bigger kick than that pea-shooter you're packin'."
Claire took the revolver, looking it over, her eyes lingering on the engraving carved on the handle, before looking back at Tony to say, "Cute. It matches my necklace."
Said necklace was indeed a silver wing charm with a small emerald embedded in it, and the handle's engraving did resemble it. A happy coincidence, as far as Tony was concerned.
Shouldering the shotgun, he smirked before saying, "Well, take from me, babe. If you're gonna blow away some freakish undead, it helps if the accessories match. You gotta look stylish during jobs like these."
Rolling her eyes at that, Claire held up the pistol in one hand and the grenade launcher in the other. "Okay, Mister Stylish, now here's my next question: how do you expect me to carry all this?"
Before he could respond, a loud banging suddenly issued from the front of the room, the heavy door shaking as something groaned hungrily just behind it. The woman turned towards the source of the sound while Tony just strode past her, still shouldering the Remington as the door continued to rattle violently. The man confidently stopped his casual stride as he arrived next to the electronic keypad, holding the shotgun out with his right arm, the barrel steady.
"I believe the answer to that question's about to bust in."
Just as the gunslinger finished his sentence, the door flew open, the fat zombie that had been banging on the vending machine shambling in, moaning in hunger, its rotting face perfectly aligned with the end of the shotgun's barrel.
"Candy gram," he quipped before pulling the trigger.
A thunderous *BOOM* issued, followed by a heavy blast of buckshot to the ghoul's face, shredding the rotting meat, and bursting its skull open like a balloon in a spray of gore and smoke. The heavy body collapsed in a heap with a wet squishing sound.
Pumping the shotgun to eject the empty shell, the gunman called back to Claire, "Damn, door-to-door salesmen sure are gettin' real pushy nowadays, huh? Oh, well... At least he knocked."
Placing the shotgun against the keypad terminal, he kneeled down and undid the dead man's belt, yanking it and everything on it off while Claire walked up behind him, her expression concerned.
"Don't take this wrong way, but... you do remember these things were people once, right? Couldn't you try to be a little more respectful before killing them?" she inquired as Tony removed the holster and ammo pack from the belt, tossing the empty pack aside while placing the holster down.
He turned to face her, grabbing the grenade launcher from her hand, and began looping the belt around it to create a makeshift strap for it. "I would, but I take the fact that they're trying to eat me a little personally," was his response as he handed her back the launcher and the empty holster.
Still frowning, but not saying anything more, Claire worked the holster onto her belt, slipping her new Quickdraw into it while slinging the grenade launcher over her shoulder.
Tony picked up the Remington, and pushed the door open, letting the girl follow him out before closing it. Redfield resumed leading her boyfriend around a corner to a set of stairs, the college student ignoring the undead still beating at the boarded window, while Redgrave contemptuously glared back at it before following his girlfriend up the stairs for the second floor.
As she moved past a lone female officer's body crumpled against a bloodstained steel shutter, she began speaking again. "We just need to cut through the showers, and we'll be on our way to my brother's office in no time."
At the mention of showers, Tony flashed a mirthful grin before saying, "Ooh, let's clean up while we're in there! I'll wash you if you wash me."
Claire stopped to turn around, giving him the side-eye as she retorted, "You may find all of this fun and exciting, but I don't, so please try to stay- TONY, LOOK OUT!"
Her annoyance morphed into sudden terror, and before Tony could react, something slammed into him from behind, catching him off-guard, and sending him sprawling against the railing of the balcony. The female officer, no longer pretending to be a corpse, snarled viciously, her jaws snapping hungrily for the man's neck. However, the mercenary managed to wedge the shotgun between himself and the female ghoul, glowering back at her rage with his own ice-cold eyes. He thrust the shotgun up, giving him a little breathing room as it forced the zombie back, but her hands clawed for his face, the bloody nails only inches away from his warm flesh.
"I'm flattered, dollface, really!" he growled between clenched teeth, discreetly lowering his body ever so slightly as the zombie continued to try to claw and bite him. "But I already got a girl!"
Claire frantically fumbled for her .38, managing to draw it out just as Tony suddenly smashed the stock of the shotgun against the zombie's face, stunning it, and allowing him to thrust the weapon against her neck once again, using it like a hook as he hoisted the undead up and over his shoulders in a single, smooth motion, sending the zombie careening over the balcony rail, and onto the tiled floor below, where her head collided, a sickening *CRACK* following as her neck and spine snapped in two in a splash of blood and tearing flesh.
Glaring down on the truly dead corpse a floor below him, Redgrave spat, "Enjoy your trip, see ya next fall."
Claire watched in stunned awe as the man calmly shouldered his shotgun while walking towards her, speaking as he did. "Oh, don't gimme that look. I can't help it if women are constantly throwin' themselves at me! It's these good looks of mine, I swear."
He flashed her his best smile, but the girl just rolled her eyes and moved for the door next to a janitor's cart. "Yeah. And you're so full of shit, I'm amazed your eyes aren't brown."
She opened the door and stepped inside the Men's Locker Room. As her partner followed her in, he fanned his face when he felt the heavy humidity filling the room.
"Phew! I thought you said these were the showers, not the sauna."
He quickly found the source of the heavily moist heat was a busted pipe next to the doorway into the showers, thick white steam billowing out.
"Think I know what the problem is. Busted pipe, by the looks of it," Tony snarked as Claire moved towards the pipe.
"Really? Hadn't noticed..." she retorted dryly before holding her hand out. "Give me that valve I found earlier."
Tony quickly searched in one of his larger coat pockets, producing the red-wheeled handle in a second before tossing it to Claire. The young woman caught it easily, and slipped it into an empty socket on the pipe, where it fit like a glove.
"Want me to do it?" he offered, but she shook her head, gripping the valve handle tightly as she began turning it ever so slowly, her face flushing from strain if not the hot steam issuing only a few inches away from her.
"Nope... I've... got it...!" she grunted out, managing to get the wheel to rotate once, the steam lessening in intensity and volume just ever-so-slightly.
Tony shrugged, letting it go. If she wanted to do it, then it was fine by him, though it would delay them by a minute or so.
As Claire strained to turn the valve around entirely for a second time, the red-coated merc allowed his eyes to wander over the room, briefly toying with checking the lockers for anything useful, when his ice blue orbs fell on an object laying atop a small pile of towels in a rack next to the lockers on his right side.
"Well, what do we have here?..." he whispered as he picked up the item.
It was a blue jewelry box. Emphasis on jeweled, as the thing was covered in nickel-sized red gems, though curiously, there was a large empty spot at the top of it. As Tony looked over the box, Claire finished turning the valve for a third time with a heavy exclamation of triumph as the steam finally died completely, exposing the running shower stalls in the next room.
"Alright, that takes care of that," she said as she started through the open pathway, glancing back at her partner to snap, "Put that down, and come on."
"Yeah, sure," he replied half-heartedly, moving to put the box back down. But as he spied the younger Redfield slipping out of his eyesight, he instead dropped the box into his coat's pocket before following after her.
Both slowed their paces as they made their way through the shower stalls, their eyes lingering on a damaged wall exposing the water heater, which had a rather large dent on it. Tony looked over the damage, from the crushed bricks and plaster littering to the floor back to the huge open holes on the walls, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
"This damage is recent... Looks like something really wanted to get through here," he mused aloud.
Claire remained silent, though her eyes lingered on the damage as well before they focused ahead, her revolver rising slightly when she spotted a figure in dark coveralls sitting slumped over on a bench in the next room. Her fellow survivor, however, got in front of her, using his free hand to gently push her revolver down, before inching closer to the body.
When he was less than three feet away, the body crumpled to the floor with a heavy *thump,* making the young woman flinch and nearly raise her weapon again. Tony, undeterred, simply closed the distance between himself and the body, crouching down next to it. He pulled the corpse's right arm up, and Claire saw a long bloody cut along the interior of the man's forearm. With a disappointed sigh, the man let the arm flop back down and rose up, respectfully moving away from the body instead of just stepping over it.
The pale-haired gunslinger looked the room over, but aside from a washer and dryer combo and some lockers, there appeared to be nothing of use for them, so he waited by the door for Claire to reach his side again. Meeting her gaze, she gave him a small nod, and the young man gripped the door's handle and turned it, pushing the door itself open, allowing them to step into a new shadowed hallway, the only working light an emergency low light attached to the wall just above the door they emerged from. It was the smell that hit them first, stopping them in their tracks, giving their eyes just enough time to adjust to the dark.
The long hallway was absolutely covered in blood. The walls, the floor, the ceiling, with only a few small patches here and there not covered in the dried gore, and multiple bodies strewn about in similar conditions, completely covered in the red substance. Many missed various limbs, their faces ravaged, jaws hanging open by thin tendrils of tissue.
Tony's eyes narrowed, looking from one body to the next, while next to him, Claire covered her mouth and nose, groaning lowly in a combination of horror and disgust. The man's nostrils flared suddenly, his eyes snapping up to look directly at the ceiling, his eyes moving slowly.
The younger Redfield peered forward slightly, before speaking lowly, "The office my brother and his team were stationed in is just up ahead. C'mon, let's-"
She had been attempting to take a single step forward when Tony's hand snatched her upper arm so quickly and firmly, she came a sudden jerking halt. The young woman whirled her head around to glare at him, mouth open to snap at him when she saw the intense expression on his face, his eyes locked on the ceiling above.
Her own eyes narrowed in concern, and she whispered, "What's wrong?"
He didn't reply, continuing to stare upwards, his eyes moving to gaze down the long corridor where Claire had been trying to move to moments ago.
"Something's... not right..." he whispered back.
Claire raised her hand to point down the hallway before whispering again, "The S.T.A.R.S. Office is less than thirty feet away. I just need to grab that letter Chris sent, and we'll be on our way out of here."
Tony didn't respond, but he did release his hold on her arm before nodding, raising and readjusting his grip on the Remington, allowing the woman to take the lead again. His eyes were reluctantly focused ahead, though they would still snap back up to gaze at the ceiling once or twice as they slowly walked forward, stepping over more ravaged bodies. As they passed a broken window, both Redgrave and Redfield spotted the door to her brother's office just a few feet ahead to their left-
-when above, something moved in the shadows, a rasping hiss issuing followed by something snapping down from the ceiling like a whip, impaling a body on the floor, and hoisting it up before Claire's horrified eyes.
Tony gently pushed her to the left, whispering harshly, "Get in there, and don't open that door no matter what you hear!"
She whirled around to look at him, ready to argue with him to follow her. But when she saw the absolute focused look on his face, all traces of his usual humor were gone, his eyes cold as ice and locked on the shaking body still hanging from the ceiling. Looking from him, to the body, then back to him, Claire's lips quivered silently before she reluctantly made for the door, opening it and vanishing inside the office.
Be careful, she had mouthed to to Tony, who watched the body fall from the ceiling to the floor, now missing most of the flesh around its face and torso, a loud snarl rising over the slick smack of meat hitting wood. His eyes had completely adjusted to the dark now, and he could see what it was that had just made a meal out of the corpse.
"Well, aren't you one ugly son of a bitch..." he whispered to himself as he eyed the monster hanging from the ceiling above.
The simplest way to describe it was that it looked like a skinned man, exposed red muscle and sinew visible even in the low light, but the resemblance ended there. The forearms and shoulders were broad, and at the end of those arms, where the hands of a man should have been, were long, sharp, curved claws the slick white of bone. Its legs were thinner, and twisted at the knees, inverted like a frog or lizard's. The head was what Tony was currently studying.
On the sides of its skull was exposed pink, ridged tissue, like the lobes of a brain, small slits where a nose should have been, and an open mouth filled with rows of sharp, bloodstained teeth. Tony's eyes were looking right at the spot where the creature's eyes should have been. But this monster had no eyes. Only empty holes of shadowed darkness.
The creature snarled again, a long rattling hiss, the slits where its nose should have been flaring suddenly. It began crawling across the ceiling towards Tony, its claws issuing soft *ticks* on contact with the wood. The red-coated gunman stood his ground, shouldering his shotgun, and watching it move, still as a statue.
He narrowed his eyes suddenly, his expression turning thoughtful. He took a single step back, putting emphasis on the back of his boot heel as he did, causing the wood under it to creak ever so slightly. The monster above him froze in its tracks, before hissing loudly, a long, slimy tongue slipping out of its mouth to whip about. To that, Tony smiled, understanding.
Holding the shotgun with one arm, he inched closer to the broken window, nudging a shard of glass still sticking out of the frame. It broke, clattering to the floor loudly.
The effect was instantaneous.
The creature roared, jumping from the ceiling towards the broken window, its clawed hands slashing out, smashing the frame into pieces on contact. Tony rolled under the monster as it leapt, coming up in a crouch just behind it, shotgun held with both hands as he squeezed the trigger. A thunderous *BOOM* issued, the blast of buckshot striking the mutant's back in a spray of blood, flesh, and pellets.
The monster howled in pain and anger, but it did not crumple. Instead, it whirled around, its jaws snapping open as its tongue shot out with the speed of a cobra. On pure instinct, Tony yanked his head back and to the side, the tongue sailing past his cheek by mere centimetres. His left hand shot up, grabbing the slick organ, and with a harsh shout, the mercenary spun around, and yanked as hard as he could, dragging the beast up and over himself, slamming it down hard on the floor. The sound of shattering wood mixing with tearing flesh echoed out as the creature began squealing in pain, its arms flailing about, blood erupting from its mouth, gurgling its cries.
Calmly, the mercenary stood back up, watching it flail and spasm in obvious agony, before looking at his clenched left hand, where the long tongue lay limp in his grasp. With a disgusted grunt, he let it fall to the floor, before returning his focus on the tongue's previous owner, walking back towards it while pumping the shotgun to chamber a fresh round. As he stood over to the beast, the snowy-haired merc slammed his boot down on its neck, before shoving the barrel of the Remington into its mouth.
"Here's a hot meal, pal. On me," he snarled before pulling the trigger.
The monster's head exploded in a shower of flames and gore, the hole of its neck smoking, the floor under it a ruined mess of lead, meat and bone. Tony stared down on the body, watching it twitch and jerk in death throes, while wiping the hand that had held the creature's tongue against his coat in disgust. Raising his shotgun back up to his shoulder while crouching down to get a better look at the dead creature, the mercenary gave the corpse a closer look over before glancing at one of the many bodies littering the hallway.
"So... it's more than just zombies inside this station," he concluded.
The man in red admitted to himself he had gotten very lucky with this thing, whatever it was, having realized it tracked potential prey by sound and probably smell as well, which had allowed him to get the drop on it, and kill it as quickly as he did. It had a weird odor of its own; something he had noticed upon first stepping into this hallway. It had a kind of chemical smell, like chlorine or bleach, not to mention a whiff of rotting meat like everything else in this station. He was curious as to what it was, briefly musing over the idea of it being some kind of mutation of whatever caused the outbreak of the zombie disease in Raccoon City, but Tony had to put that thought on hold when another one suddenly hit him.
There was no way there was just one of these things lurking around...
"All the more reason to get the hell outta Dodge... and fast," he concluded aloud, rising back up smoothly, rolling his shoulders as he marched over to the office door, shoving it open and stepping inside.
He blinked rapidly, going from barely any light to sudden light. And before he could attempt to orient his vision, a pink and auburn blur slammed into him, making him stumble a step as lithe arms wrapped tightly around him. Blinking his icy eyes, Tony glanced down to see it was Claire who had run into him, pulling him into a tight embrace. But before he could say anything, her gaze shot up to meet his own, her grey-blue orbs filled with equal parts relief and anger.
"You colossal idiot!" she exclaimed, pulling her arms away to smack his chest with a small fist, making the young man flinch, more in surprise than pain. "That thing could have killed you! Could you not act so damn macho all the frickin' time?!" she demanded, throwing her hands up in exasperation as she glared at him intently.
Unable to help himself, Tony felt his grin return as he draped his other arm over the shotgun's stock, using the rifle as a brace as he casually met his significant other's anger and concern with his trademarked aloofness.
"...Y'know, you're so damn cute when you're angry. Nice to know you still care, babe."
That made the collegiate girl balk for a moment's breath, before she relented with a sigh, her anger deflating as she rolled her eyes and turned around, shrugging and muttering, "There's just no use with you. It's like talking to a rock..."
"A handsome rock!" he called after her, following her steps as he took in the new surroundings.
The office space they stood in was about the same size as the East and West Wings' offices they had previously ventured through, though thankfully all the fluorescent lights were actually working, letting him see the light blue walls and the eight desks - four each aligned with each other in perfect squares, two on one side, two on the other, with two more tucked away in the upper right-hand corner - and an entirely separate office space was in the lower left-hand corner by the door the young man had entered through.
Claire walked up to the middle desks, her gaze lingering on a brown leather jacket hanging off the wall under several trophy plates, which Tony quickly glanced over, noting they were all for marksman tournaments, each bearing the same name.
"Damn... Your brother's some sharpshooter," he complimented, letting his eyes fall back on said brother's sister, catching the faint smile on her lips as she began looking over the boxes atop the desk, rifling through dozens of folders and papers.
"Yeah. He loved showing off in those matches, always scoring perfect shots..." She trailed off, her smile falling away as she sighed suddenly, her eyes closing. "I can't find it."
That comment made the youth blink, his head cocking slightly as he inquired, "Find what?"
"The letter. Marvin said Chris sent a letter to one of his teammates; Jill Valentine, I think. But I've searched both of their desks, and there's no letter. I need to find it, because if it still has the envelope, I can find the address he sent it from in Europe."
Upon hearing the word 'Europe,' Tony did a double take, his expression incredulous. "Europe? What the hell's he doin' all the way over there?"
Claire shrugged, her hands still rifling through the boxes, moving from one to the other. "I have no idea. Last time I talked to him, he was still angry about the investigation going on in his unit. Then he just stopped calling and sending letters. Marvin said he was on vacation, and I almost want to believe he's really on one after everything that happened in July. But try as I might, I just can't imagine him trying to put whatever happened behind him so soon."
The young man remained silent at that, not daring to say anything. He still had no idea what she meant by whatever incident her brother had been involved with in July, but the last time he opened his mouth to try to comfort her about it...
Her eyes were rimmed with red and puffiness, her cheeks equally inflamed and stained with furious tears.
"How DARE you suggest such a thing?! What gives you any right to say that about him?! My brother's TWICE the man you are!"
His own anger boiled in his heart, a righteous rage that failed to numb the pain of seeing her in such a state, and his own internal loathing for the foolish words he let slip out of his mouth.
His grip on the Remington tightened as he forced the fresh memories back down, turning away from Claire to let his gaze roam over one of the desks, this one covered with dozens of computer discs. He breathed slowly but deeply, reminding himself that thinking about their fight wasn't going to do either of them any good. Right now, they had to focus on survival. They'd sort their personal problems out if - when - they got out of Raccoon.
Tony's eyes fell on Claire's back, admiring the insignia sewn on the back of her vest: a sultry blonde Valkyrie in a white dress holding a bomb over a row of explosives, the words 'Made in Heaven' written over the warrior woman.
He had always loved that vest of hers, noting how perfectly it suited her. When his eyes wandered back over to the leather jacket hanging off the wall, Tony was unable to resist the soft chuckle when he saw a perfect replica of Claire's insignia sewn on it. His sudden laughter broke the younger Redfield out of her obsessive search, pausing to glance at him in confusion.
"What's so funny?" she asked, tone both curious but underlined with irritation.
Tony shook his head, waving his hand at the brown jacket while explaining, "Oh, nothin'. Just noticed that you and your bro have a matching jacket and vest. I think it's adorable, is all."
Claire smiled at that, stepping away from the boxes while nodding and explaining, "Yeah... I've always loved that jacket. For my sixteenth birthday, he had the vest I'm wearing now made for me."
She approached the desk her boyfriend was standing by, the taller man stepping back to give her better access as she began to pull out folders from the small shelf atop the desk while saying, "It has to be here somewhere. This is Jill's desk."
Tony's free hand reached out to snatch the small picture frame up from the desk, his grin widening as he snorted softly, "I'm thinking this is her boyfriend." He flashed the frame towards Claire, letting her see that the picture was of a golden retriever with a big open grin.
She gave her him a sly smirk as she replied, "Gotta admit, he's cuter than you."
That caused him to toss the picture back onto the desk with a huff, the crimson-clad man moving away from both the biker girl and the desk towards the room's left side, his icy gaze spotting the wire-mesh windows, and the solid steel electronic door next to a small table with only a gray computer monitor, keyboard, and hard drive atop it. Peering through the mesh, the young man spotted the familiar sight of an open gun safe... and something else atop a small bench inside the office's armory.
"Claire, come over here," he called without looking away.
Behind him, she sighed in annoyance, rounding around to quickly walk over to the pale-haired male, speaking as she did. "Tony, I'm sure those are nice guns back there, but I'm trying to focus right now-"
"Look," the man interrupted, tapping his free hand's index finger against the mesh window, directing Claire's gaze to the bench. When her eyes fell on the pile of white papers and envelope resting atop it, her mouth fell open as she inhaled sharply.
"The letter!"
She raced over to the steel door, but upon seeing no handle to push it open with, quickly dashed back to the computer while Tony moved to the side, setting his shotgun down while reaching into his coat at the same time.
"You know the password to unlock the door?" he asked while producing the curious blue and gold box he had found earlier, looking down at it as he studied it over, searching for where the cover met the box itself.
"No, and the system's locked out. I can't override it," Claire suddenly said, smashing her fists down on the keyboard with a cry of, "Dammit!"
"Easy, babe. Don't need the Raccoon City Police billing us for property damage, now do we?" Tony snarked, his fingers wrapped tightly around the box's top as he began tugging it harshly.
She turned around to glare at him, her eyes falling on the box as she snapped, "I thought I told you to put that back?!"
"No, you said 'Put it down.' And I did put it down... in my coat pocke-"
His words were cut off by an audible *snap* as his fingers finished yanking the top off, the thin metal lock and hinges giving under him, the box and top snapping in two pieces, from which something fell out onto the floor with a heavy clatter. Tony stepped back, blinking as he eyed the ruined box, while Claire, previously looking like she was about to give him a fresh verbal lashing, suddenly bent down to pick up the item that had fallen free from the box. She rose back up, holding a metallic item that filled the entirety of her palm: a metal police badge with the same logo adorning the very office they stood in.
S.T.A.R.S.
"A S.T.A.R.S. badge?..." she whispered, looking the item over, turning it over in her palm to gaze at the back.
"Weird thing to lock up in such a fancy box," was the merc's conclusion as he tossed the ruined halves of said item aside before looking back at the younger redhead, who had wide eyes as she moved something on the back of the badge, causing a small USB port to extend from its top.
"I don't believe it..." she whispered in awe.
Puzzled, Tony looked at the small port, at a loss. "The hell is that?" he inquired, Claire looking from the badge to him, her excitement growing.
"I could kiss you right now!" she exclaimed before spinning around, sticking the weird badge's port into an open slot on the hard drive, her fingers flying over the keyboard.
"Well... why don't you?" her boyfriend asked smoothly, leaning closer to Claire.
Unfortunately for him, the younger woman suddenly shouted a "YES!" in glee as a soft electronic *ding* issued, followed by an electronic buzz accompanying sliding metal as the armory door slid into the wall. She dashed through the open doorway before Tony could say or do anything else.
"...I'll just... hold her to that for some other time..." he concluded lamely, following the young woman into the armory.
While the auburn-haired college student snatched up the letter to pore over its contents, the white-haired youth instead looked over the small private armory within the S.T.A.R.S. Office, his gaze impressed. Although the racks for both small arms and rifles were completely empty, two spaces were still occupied, and, quite frankly, if Tony had any other choices, he'd pass them up for these beauties. The first was a gun-metal gray, fully tricked out MQ 11 submachine gun, complete with a long barrel silencer attached, and an extended magazine packing twice the number of bullets the machine gun normally carried. He was almost positive these modifications to the gun weren't entirely legal, not that he cared one way or the other.
Above the machine gun was a large, sleek, chrome handgun, the male recognizing the weapon almost instantly, fondly remembering all the times he'd look over similar models in Nell's shop. It was a Desert Eagle .50 caliber action express. A top of the line Magnum that was more of a compact cannon than a handgun. A single bullet from this bad boy could blow a hole wider than Tony's own clenched fist in a single target... and anything unlucky enough to be behind it.
Whistling, the gunslinger pulled the Desert Eagle free from the gun safe, inspecting the weapon over carefully, ejecting the clip, and very pleased to see it was fully loaded, seven heavy rounds locked and loaded. He noted a curious emblem engraved on the opposite side of the handle. It was a golden star emblem, with the words 'Raccoon Police,' but on the opposite side, a stylized hawk with its talons gripping a bolt of lightning.
Lightning Hawk.
The merc's grin returned, savage and eager to test his new weapon, when Claire spoke up suddenly, breaking him from his weapon ogling. "This... This does not sound like Chris."
Looking away from the Magnum, placing the heavy sidearm back on its rack in the safe, Tony took a single long step towards his girlfriend, peering down and studying the confused expression on her face as she stared down at both the letter and the envelope grasped in both hands. As she lowered the papers slightly, the crimson-coated youth took that as an invitation to deftly snatch the white sheets out of her grasp, bringing them closer to his icy gaze, and taking a moment to read their contents.
When he finished, he burst out laughing, unable to help himself. "Your brother sounds like my kinda guy!"
The letter read as follows:
To my bestest S.T.A.R.S. buds,
How are you all doing in that drab, old station? Hanging in there against old Irons? Me? I just got back from a date with a hot chick. Bet you can guess what we got up to under her extra-large umbrella.
Europe is amazing. One month is in no way enough to even scratch the surface. Maybe I'll extend my vacation for another six months.
Barry, don't even think of coming to join me. Wouldn't want to make all the cute girls cry, yeah? So you just leave the babes to me.
Jill, if Claire tries to contact you, please let her know I'm OK.
Chris Redfield, August 29
Still snickering, Tony allowed Claire to snatch the letter back, carefully folding it back up into the envelope, pausing just long enough to see the return address on it before stuffing the letter into her satchel, shaking her head the whole while.
"There's no way this letter came from Chris. The last time we talked, he sounded so frustrated after that mission he and his team went on earlier in August... And that part about going on a date? I can't even remember the last time he went out with someone! I...! I-I just don't get it. And why didn't he tell me he was even going to Europe?"
Claire's voice was filled with equal parts frustration and confusion, and all her partner offered in response was a shrug, picking the Magnum back up, along with another leg holster, which he quickly went about securing to his right hip, replying as he did.
"People de-stress in different ways, babe. It sounds like your big bro's having a blast overseas, and I guess he was counting on this Jill chick to let you know where he was, though I guess she forgot... Or, more than likely, she was dealing with whatever the hell turned Raccoon City into Zombie Central."
Finished adjusting his new holster and securing the Lightning Hawk in it, Tony reached for the Mac-10, pulling it off its rack in the safe while looking over for more ammunition for both weapons.
Claire watched him as he did so, furrowing her brow before asking him, "You're not seriously taking both of those, are you? I think we have more than enough guns, Tony."
"No such thing, good-lookin'. 'Sides, it'd be a total waste to just leave these here," was the young man's response, producing two extra clips for the Mac, and only one spare magazine for the Magnum, much to his disappointment.
Stuffing the Magnum clip into a coat pocket, Tony extended the machine gun in offering to the woman, who stared back at it before sighing, deciding to not even bother resisting, and took the gun from his hand, slipping its harness around her right shoulder, leaving the weapon on her side for quick and easy access.
Walking out of the armory with his girl on the tails of his coat, the gunslinger snatched up the Remington while saying, "Well, we've got your brother's letter, so whaddya say we blow this popsicle stand?"
Claire nodded, adjusting the harness of the MQ 11 while saying, "Right. The last medallion to get us out of here isn't too far away. I just hope Marvin's still resting. He's gonna need his strength."
At the mention of the wounded officer, Tony's eyes narrowed. Would the man still be human when they returned? Or could he have succumbed to his injuries, and was waiting for them to return, eager to sink his teeth in hot, living flesh...
His thoughts were interrupted when the girl marched past him, calling as she opened the door back to the hallway, "C'mon, Tony."
Nodding, the taller man followed the shorter woman back into the dark, blood-soaked hall. She led him further down the hallway, slowing her gait just long enough to study the decapitated body of the skinless creature before quickly moving along, a shudder visibly rippling through her.
"I... I think I saw this thing earlier, when I was on the third floor. Scuttled over a window like an overgrown lizard..."
"Well, I don't think we need to worry about him anymore," was his response, nodding his head at the spot where the corpse's skull had once been.
Claire nodded as well, but still looked unsure. "Hope this thing didn't have any friends..." she murmured to herself before walking past the body, and around the corner.
"You and me both, babe," he mumbled back, more to himself than in actual response.
The couple arrived at the end of the hall, passing a door on the left in favor of the door just past it, the lock on it secured but quickly opened by Claire, letting the two step out into a better lit lounge area. Tony eyed the Unicorn Statue across from them as she headed for the next door, the man in red voicing his displeasure at the eyesore of a statue.
"Ugh. You'd think these cops would've kept the cooler museum pieces - like a dinosaur fossil, or something - instead of that ugly thing."
"Probably better for us that they didn't. The last thing we need is a zombie T-Rex or Triceratops smashing around," was the biker girl's rebuttal as she opened the door, stepping over a heavyset corpse missing most of its head.
"Speak for yourself! That sounds awesome!" he replied, following her into the large, if not messy library of the station, noting the fallen tomes and various bodies of cop and civilian alike littering the floor.
His gaze narrowed when his ears caught a slick crunching sound not too far away, causing him to pause at the base of the stair steps Claire was currently climbing. The college girl reached the first turn on the stairs before realizing her companion had ceased following her.
Looking back down and seeing his distracted expression, she called out. "Tony, what's the hold up?"
Raising his hand up, index finger out, the platinum-haired youth asked, "You hear that, right?"
The girl blinked, looking confused, before realizing what he was referring to. "It's just a zombie eating a body behind those stacks over there. C'mon, let's stop wasting time, and get the last medallion."
With that explanation, the young woman resumed going up the steps, Tony following her, all the while shaking his head in disbelief. "Never thought there'd be a day where 'a zombie eating a dead body' was a rational explanation for a weird sound..."
Crossing the balcony way - the young man had peered over the side to confirm the sight of a zombie hungrily ripping the flesh off a corpse's arm - the two arrived at another door. Claire stepped inside first, gingerly moving around the body hanging from the ceiling.
Tony, meanwhile, casually shoved the corpse aside with a quip, "How's it hangin', fella?"
"It's just around this corner, locked up in this pen," she explained, pointing towards a statue tucked away in the upper left-hand corner behind some strong-looking iron bars, the floor of the pen littered with bodies.
The two stopped in front of the boarded-up door of the pen, with Claire moving aside to allow Tony a better look. The young man blinked when he saw the two long bricks resembling clay wrapped in plastic, with bands labeled 'C4' wrapped around them.
"Plastique? In a police station?" he asked aloud, giving his partner a concerned look, but the young woman simply shrugged.
"Don't look at me. I have no idea why it's there, or why someone would even set this up. Can you tear the boards down, or are we gonna have to look for a safer way to detonate these charges?"
Tony waved her questions off, snatching the two bricks of explosives off the impromptu wall, and tossing them aside, the heavy *thumps* they made making the startled girl flinch and cry out, "Are you insane?! Those could explo-"
Her words were cut off by the sound of the merc's boot connecting with the many boards nailed up in the pen's doorway, the black leather snapping through the heavy wood-like paper with a loud crash, splinters flying about as the boards fell to the floor with a clatter.
Setting his leg back down, scraping the sole of his boot as he did so, he extended a hand in invitation to Claire, his smirk ever-present. "After you, milady."
With a heavy sigh and roll of her eyes, followed by a shake of her head, Claire stepped past Redgrave and into the pen, minding the bodies of the two men on the floor, one in a cop's uniform, the other in regular clothes, both of them covered in blood, the exposed flesh of their faces and arms revealing long slash marks. Tony eyed the bodies before looking back to his partner, seeing her in front of the statue's base, and pulling out a small notebook from her satchel, quickly flipping through the pages before looking at the plate on the statue, and groaning in displeasure.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"The plates are all scratched up. I can barely see the symbols... It might take me a minute to find the right ones," she explained, her fingers moving over the slots on the statue's plate, sliding one over and then another.
The man nodded while saying, "Take your time, babe. We're almost at the finish line, anyway, so what's another minute?"
No sooner had he finished his words did a loud, shrieking hiss like scream echo through the enclosed space of the storage room, freezing both. He recognized the cry almost instantly, while Claire shot him a look, her eyes wide and filled with terror. The white-haired mercenary raised his hand to his lips, index finger tapping against them in the universal 'Shhh' expression.
She nodded in return, reluctantly looking away from him back to the statue's plates, her fingers moving them more slowly now to silence the soft metallic scraping they issued as they turned. Tony looked away from her to let his icy gaze scan what little there was to see in the storage room, his eyes narrowed, and the grip on the Remington tightening. A heavy *thump* suddenly resounded, making the young woman freeze, and the gunslinger snapping his head to his right from where the sound originated from.
The soft groan of a zombie was a relieving, familiar noise to them, as the ghoul that had previously been hanging from the ceiling staggered about, lumbering towards Tony with its arms stretched out. The man extended the shotgun out with a single arm, lining the unwavering barrel between the zombie's eyes before pulling the trigger. The loud *BOOM* issued from the rifle was deafening in such enclosed quarters, but Claire thankfully had both hands covering her ears to muffle it as best as they could. Tony, meanwhile, was unbothered by the noise.
But the man realized too late that the roar of the shotgun's blast had drowned out the hungry roar of the skinless monster that lunged from a broken ceiling rafter where the zombie had previously been hanging, the creature having dislodged the ghoul after tracing the two live humans nearby, its sensitive hearing having led it to them after hearing the wooden boards crash down. Tony was completely off-guard as the monster slammed into his torso, sending him flying back into the pen, the Remington clattering on the floor and far from his reach as the monster screeched, its clawed hands whipping about in a frenzy.
Claire screeched, "TONY!" as she saw the man shoving and grasping at the beast's hideous face, keeping its sharp teeth away from his neck while its claws futilely tore away at the wall behind him.
The mercenary grit his jaw down tight, cursing himself for stupidly letting the zombie distract him from the real threat. And with his hands struggling to grasp the thing and keep it away from himself at the same time, he couldn't reach any of his weapons. A long, red, slimy tongue suddenly slithered out of the monster's jaw, the long organ whipping around, strings of drool splattering Tony's coat as the organ suddenly pulled back, the sharp-looking tip aimed for his right eye-
Six loud *bangs* issued from not far away, one after another in rapid succession, six bullets slamming into the monster's exposed brain in an explosion of blood, flesh, and fire. The skinless beast let out a sharp screech of pain before pitching back and falling to the floor, its limbs spasming in death throes before going still. Tony blinked in confusion before turning his gaze to his right, and spotting Claire standing by the statue, the Quickdraw Army he had given her earlier drawn out, the barrel smoking, her expression equal parts shocked and terrified.
"Heh... Nice shootin' there, cowgirl," he said after a moment, his grin returning as he pushed himself up.
The woman was at his side in a heartbeat, speaking frantically all the while. "Oh my god, Tony, are you alright?! Ugh, what was I thinking?! I could have shot you! I'm so sorr-"
"Hey, hey, hey, press the brakes down, babe!" he interrupted, putting his hands on her shoulders to steady her while continuing to speak. "I'm alright. I'd be dead if it wasn't for your fancy shooting. I owe you one... Did you get that medallion yet?"
His calm words and sudden inquiry of the medallion seemed to snap her from her panicked daze, making her blink and shake her head. "No, I... I need to set it to the last plate. Just one second."
Tony nodded, letting her head back to the statue while he exited the pen to pick up the shotgun, before moving towards the skinless monster's body, where a pool of blood was spreading around its head. Glancing back at occupied woman, seeing her completely focused on her task, the young man switched the rifle to his left hand to use his right to tug the collar of his black shirt aside, staring at the long gash the creature's claw had left at the junction where his shoulder and collar bone met; an unlucky cut for him. Before his very eyes, the wound was slowly shrinking, the long red line sewing itself up into a bright pink scar that would fade away just as quickly.
Behind him, he heard Claire's approaching footfalls, so he let his hand fall away, turning to face her while balancing the shotgun across his shoulders. She proudly held up a brass medallion the size of her palm, the image of a maiden holding a pouring jug engraved on its surface. Tony met her gaze evenly as she spoke up.
"Last one."
"Then let's make like a couple of hockey sticks, and get the puck outta Dodge," he suggested with a grin.
Claire nodded, heading for the door while the young man discreetly checked his shoulder again, pleased to see only a small splash of blood was left where the cut had been.
"C'mon, Tony. Let's get out of here," she beckoned him from the open door. Without a word, he followed her, leaving the dead creature behind.
And hopefully, this station and Raccoon City soon after.
The trip back to the Main Hall was uneventful and brief, the young couple descending the stairs, Claire two at a time in eager excitement, while Tony cautiously followed at a slower pace, his icy eyes locked on Marvin's still form on the bench across from the Goddess Statue. The girl made it to the front of the statue's base, placing the Maiden Medallion in the center of the plate at the statue's base between two others: one medallion engraved with a roaring lion, the other the head of a unicorn. She stepped back just as her boyfriend arrived next to her, watching as the base of the statue and part of the floor under it moved swiftly and smoothly, stone and tile sliding away to reveal a small staircase and an iron-barred door.
Claire descended the steps, pushing at the door's handle. The door swung open, its hinges squeaking softly.
"Bingo," Tony stated.
Claire nodded, giving the newly revealed stairwell a quick look over with her flashlight before looking back at him to say, "Looks like it leads underground."
"Good. Now we can get outta this zombie-infested hellhole," was his reply as the woman quickly walked back up, and moved towards the sleeping officer.
He followed her movements, his grip on the shotgun's handle tightening. The policeman remained motionless atop the bench, his unhealthy pallor further illuminated by the small kerosene lamp atop the small table next to him.
"Marvin? Hey, Marvin! We did it! We found the way out!" Claire exclaimed in excitement as she quickly moved to kneel closer to the wounded cop. "Marvin, come on, wake up. Let's get you out of here." She reached out to grab Marvin's bloody hands. "Let's go-"
-The cop sprung up much too quickly for a man with a serious wound on his side.
Tony's reaction was instantaneous. The shotgun was out and leveled, a fresh round chambered as he pumped the gauge, the sound of metal racking mixing with the heavy gasps from Marvin as he looked about wildly, his brown eyes falling on the shotgun barrel currently less than five feet away from his face. Claire whirled around, her own grey-blue orbs wide as saucers with shock, before her gaze narrowed in fresh outrage.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?! Put that fucking thing down right now!" she shouted, moving herself between the Remington and the officer.
Reluctantly, Tony lowered the shotgun, hardly reacting as Claire smacked the barrel down further to march up to the taller man, and glare angrily up into his suddenly controlled, neutral expression.
"I know you like playing with your stupid guns as much as any other five year old with a new toy, but don't go pointing them at someone like they're-"
"Claire... It's alright..." Marvin's breathy, exhausted, and pained voice somehow managed to rise over hers, and interrupt her rant.
At the sound of his voice, the young woman's rage evaporated instantly, anger quickly cooling into concern as she rounded around to kneel back down next to the officer, who was gripping his wound tightly, agony contorting his features. The man in red could only watch silently, steeling himself for the inevitable.
"Marvin, it's gonna be okay," she reassured, her tone low and soothingly gentle. "We got the passage open. Now we can all get out of here-"
"No, I... Just go... Save yourself," he rasped out, waving one bloody hand at her in sudden dismissal.
The woman shook her head fiercely at that, shock mixing with concern in her expression as she quickly spoke on, "No, we can get you to a hospital! It's not-"
"Claire," Tony called from behind her, his tone sad, but firm. "He can't come with us. He's been bit."
At that, she angrily rounded towards him, her annoyance returning as she glared up at him while snapping, "What the hell's that supposed to mean, Anthony?!"
The snowy-haired man paused for a moment, unsure of how to explain, but it was Marvin who spoke next.
"You asked me... what caused all this..." he gasped out, each word seeming to task his waning strength in greater amounts. But still, he spoke on as Claire turned to face him again. "We don't... know for sure how... how it spread initially... but it became very clear... after we brought in the wounded..."
He slowly removed his hand from his wound, exposing it to the young woman. Tony caught the unmistakable smell of rotting meat emanating from it, the torn flesh having turned a sickly, rotten, grayish green. Claire's eyes widened with horror... and understanding.
"We quickly understood... Every victim... was infected by the zombie bites..." the dying police officer finished, letting his hand fall to his side as he slumped against the back of the bench, sweat beading his forehead. "I tried... But I couldn't stop it..."
Claire shook her head. "No... No, no... No!..."
The lieutenant looked at her, his expression filled with fresh pain. "Please, Claire... We both know how this is going to end... Get out of the city."
"I can't just leave you here..." she begged in a small voice that trembled.
Marvin's face twisted in agony, looking away before turning back to her with a firm expression, whispering, "Claire, please... Go... Do this for me..."
Unable to find her voice, her eyes shimmering wetly with unshed tears, Claire rose back to her feet, taking a single step back, before quickly turning and bolting for the gated door under the statue. Tony watched her go silently, heaving a heavy sigh once she was out of sight. Closing his eyes briefly, he steadied himself before opening them, turning to look down at the officer.
"I can... help you... If you want," he offered quietly, raising the shotgun back up. That was all the elaboration he needed.
But Marvin shook his head, meeting the younger man's icy gaze with hardened eyes.
"No... I'll..." He drew his sidearm, laying it atop his lap. "I... I can take care of myself."
Tony nodded, understanding.
Truthfully, he wanted to offer something else - anything else - to this lone survivor who had helped Claire survive before his arrival. But he had nothing else to give.
Reluctantly, he shouldered the Remington, and began to turn to follow after his girlfriend when the officer's voice called to him. "Anthony... right?"
At the sound of his name on such a breathless and pained voice, the man in red turned to face the dying man again. He managed to steady his agonized expression into one of steely resolve, and Tony waited for his last words.
"You keep her safe. You get her out of this nightmare... Alive, you hear me?... That's an order." Marvin's words were firm as stone, his expression fierce.
The boy nodded, his own eyes hardening into icy stones. He would honor this last request, as it was his only goal. He'd get Claire out of this city, and back to her brother...
Even if he had to go out into the streets, and kill every last one of those zombies with his bare hands.
Seeing the young man's affirmation, the mortally wounded police officer closed his eyes, and allowed himself to slump back against the bench, his breathing heavy and labored. Tony looked away, treading down the steps, and through the iron wrought gate. No sooner did he step completely over the threshold did the sudden sound of sliding stone and grinding metal return, and the open passageway sealed itself shut once more, locking them in...
And Marvin out.
"...Thank you, Marvin," he whispered to himself.
Then, with a heavy sigh, he continued down the stairs.
The air stank of stale bear, sour sweat, and the lingering haze of nicotine-laced smoke, but Grue had long gotten used to these smells in Bobby's Cellar.
The older man sat at the bar like he always did, nursing a glass of bourbon while the rest of the Cellar was in a frenzy, the various gathered mercenaries walking, talking, and generally moving about as they waited impatiently for Enzo and/or Morrison to arrive with fresh jobs. Bobby himself was washing a dirty cup with an even dirtier rag, the huge man paying no mind to anyone else.
Grue took a long pull from his glass before looking at the empty seat next to him. It was Tony's seat; the spot the younger man would sit at and eat one of his strawberry sundaes from the bar, which was the only thing he ever ordered from Bobby, who always complied. Before he had established himself in the Cellar, Grue recalled the older, arrogant mercs who would mock Tony for his eating habits.
He smirked to himself, recalling their dumbfounded expression when the kid had returned from a job, his clothes riddled with bullet holes, with nary a scratch on the man himself. They quickly stopped their jeering from that day on. The older mercenary inhaled a heavy sigh as he looked away from his partner's spot, his thoughts running.
Kid's been gone for too long... I didn't think Claire was that mad at him, but somethin' feels off...
He pushed those thoughts and the strange, lingering worry in his gut aside, his eyes traveling to a lone table in the far corner, where sat Bobby's Cellar's newest patron.
The man was tall and lithe, but lean, his thin arms and legs hiding the coiled strength in them, which was not unlike a rattlesnake tensing before it struck out. He was wearing a dark suit, golden button links visible on either forearm of his black jacket, his pants matching, the jacket only partially buttoned up to expose the dark turtleneck underneath, the ends of a black scarf visible around his neck. Unusual clothing for such warm weather, but the man showed no discomfort. He showed no expression at all, for his entire head and his exposed hands were wrapped tightly with white bandages.
Only his eyes were visible, cold and narrowed. Staring straight ahead at the exact same spot Grue had just glanced at. The seat usually occupied by Tony.
The man rested one arm atop the table he sat at, the other currently gripping a long, black lacquered sheathe of his eastern blade: a katana. His bandaged fingers occasionally tightened over the ornately-woven hilt every now and again.
The man ignored all others in the bar, his gaze locked on Tony's seat, and only that.
Grue didn't want to admit it... but there was something about this man, this stranger who was only known as 'Gilver,' that unsettled him. And it wasn't the fact that he was able to fight Tony himself to a standstill in both a sword duel and hand-to-hand combat, quickly establishing himself as exceptionally skilled with that simple act.
No, there was something just... off about him. A general sense of wrongness he couldn't shake away. He would never admit it out loud, but Gilver intimidated him.
Finishing his drink, the old man eyed the lone clock hanging over the entrance to Bobby's Cellar, unable to understand why Enzo and Morrison were so late-
-when the door swung open suddenly as a short, portly man scrambled in, calling out in a voice laced with a thick Jersey accent. "Hurry da hell up, Morrison! They need ta hear this!"
All the mercenaries in the bar stopped to watch as a tall, well-dressed older gentleman followed Enzo, the dark skin of his face slightly lined, the hair along his temples turning a dull gray.
"Hold your horses, little man! I ain't as young as I used to be, and if you don't slow down, you're likely to hurt yerself."
Enzo rounded around, standing at the bar, and waving his arms in a panicked frenzy. "Turn th' radio up, already, ya old geezer!"
With a glare, Morrison suddenly brought his arm up, revealing the large radio he was carrying. Dropping it heavily onto the bar counter, the liaison fiddled with various dials as the shorter man shouted at the annoyed mercenaries venting their irritation for his tardiness.
"The hell ya been, Enzo?!"
"You better have a good reason...!"
"-really need a job, man, c'mon!"
"QUIET, YA BUMS! YOU ALL NEEDA HEAR DIS!"
Enzo's shout silenced them all, just as Morrison stepped away from the radio, a woman's voice issuing from the speakers.
"-For those of you just tuning in, a state of emergency has been declared in Raccoon City. The Midwestern city has just been placed under quarantine by the United States Armed Forces. Reports of a biohazard outbreak in the city have been partially confirmed, with conflicting reports detailing it as a so-called 'cannibal disease,' with thousands already infected inside the city itself. Once again, a state of emergency has just been declared..."
The reporter continued her spiel, but Grue wasn't listening any longer, his eyes wide, the anxiety and worry in his gut returning ten-fold as the patrons of the bar began to discuss amongst themselves.
"Ah, jeez, Tony!..." he murmured to himself, which made Morrison glance at him, the older man lighting a cigar before asking him.
"Tony? Where's he at, Grue? I haven't seen him in a while..."
The older mercenary rubbed his eyes, suddenly feeling very tired as he replied in a mumble, "Raccoon... He went to Raccoon City."
Enzo rounded about, his eyes bugging out behind his shades. "You fo'real, Grue?! What the hell would Tony go to some shit-splat town like Raccoon for?!"
"His girl, Claire," he explained, rubbing his face with one hand while reaching for his smokes with the other. "They got into a tiff over somethin', and Tony followed her to Raccoon City to apologize."
Morrison inhaled a long drag from his stogie, exhaling a long cloud of smoke before replying, "The kid's good. Even if he don't got a gun on him, he always has that pigsticker of a sword with him."
Grue shook his head, sticking a cigarette in his mouth before saying, "Naw, Tony never takes his sword with him when he's with Claire. She doesn't know about his 'profession.'"
He liked to think that Tony kept Claire in the dark about his lifestyle as a mercenary for her safety, but the old man also heard from his partner that her older brother was a cop, so it was probably for the kid's own good that he didn't tell the girl the truth about the shady nature of his work...
"...A woman... How curious."
The voice was cold, and smooth as steel, making Grue freeze up, the hand holding his lighter shaking as he recognized the voice. Rounding around, the older man saw Gilver standing directly behind him, one hand in his pocket, the other gripping his sword. The darkly-dressed man paid no attention to Grue's shocked face, or Enzo and Morrison's perturbed expressions, his eyes still locked on Tony's seat.
Then he turned around, and headed for the door.
Seeing this, Enzo called, "Hey, Gilver, wait up! I got a great job lined up for ya! Cash up front! A hundred g's, my man!"
Gilver didn't slow his gait, or even indicate that he had heard Enzo's words. The bandaged man shoved the door open, and was gone.
Grue sat motionless at his seat, while around him, the bar lit back up in a frenzy as the men fought over themselves to claim Gilver's now-open job. But he himself couldn't look away from the door, his worry now morphing into genuine fear for Tony and Claire.
"...Be safe, kid..." he whispered to himself, praying that whatever was happening in Raccoon City wasn't nearly as bad as his gut was telling him it was...
And that Gilver had left the bar simply because he saw no challenge in a job without Tony to compete against.
Outside, Gilver slowly walked down the empty streets, his eyes, the only visible part of him, still narrowed, but now in consideration and deep thought.
Tony Redgrave had a lover. A woman, who knew next to nothing about his mercenary lifestyle. How curious, indeed.
And he had followed her to a city in the middle of a viral outbreak that made men turn into cannibals... all the while unarmed, without his sword.
The man in black slowed his gait before stopping completely under the bright glow of a lone streetlight.
He stood motionless for several moments.
Then...
His bandaged mouth curled into an excited grin.
The streetlight's bulb suddenly began to flicker, casting the street into darkness.
When the light returned, Gilver was gone.
AN UPDATE AT LAST!
Sorry ya'll had to wait so long, but this chapter is SUPER LONG, so I hope that makes up for it.
One player exits the game of survival horror...and another arrives.
I think you all know who's under those bandages...
Massive shout-outs to my buddy Da-Awesom-One for betaing as always! And a huge thanks for every new reader, follower and reviewer who has taken the time to read these drabbles of mine.
