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Post by sexystrife on Jun 21, 2012 19:14:55 GMT -5
There had been something quite important that John had learned in his dealings with Burke, and that was to ignore everything the man said regarding your person and keep your eyes forward. The man meant well, he thought as much anyway, it was hard to trust anyone anymore. John simply rolled his eyes in response to the other man’s words, snorting in a vain attempt to clear the smell from his nose as he shook his lingering fear for a moment and took in his surroundings. The estate seemed almost quiet, as though no one living had occupied it for a very long time. The dust hung in barely visible threads from one lamp to the next, coating each piece of furniture lovingly. The smell of death that had so filled the room seemed stagnant, the entire mansion felt stagnant. Quite hard to believe that such a lavish estate would be left abandoned, especially in times like these. Perhaps the zombies had something to do with it?
Though John had begun to doubt that very much.
“The door over here is unlocked!” John called back, trying the handle gently without opening the door. He’d learned his lesson the last time he’d tried something without testing the waters first; opening the doors within strange mansions could very well lead you to getting yourself killed. Or worse.
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Post by King of Cunts on Jun 22, 2012 10:58:35 GMT -5
Burke returned to the gallery room to find Wesker staring at the door like he was lost. He cocked his head, wondering if he was missing something.
“It’s not gonna bite,” he said, insinuating himself neatly between the other man and the door, “promise.”
He took the hammer out of his belt and pushed the door open, keeping his arm cocked and ready to swing, just in case there was another ghoul waiting for him on the other side. The corridor looked empty, which was good. Better was the fact that it seemed to be curving around to the left, taking them towards the back of the building. Taking them towards where Shak was.
“Looks like we’re finally getting somewhere,” he said, starting out ahead of the priest.
There were wide, arched windows along the building’s right wall. He stopped at the first and peered out. In the light from the moon, he could just make out the expanse of long grass between the mansion and the treeline. Beyond that was the forest, tightly packed and impenetrably deep. He wondered what part of the country they were in. He’d never been to a place that looked like this.
Human agriculture was so frantic, so short-sighted, nowadays that it tore places like this to the ground to make way for high-yield, low-maintenance crops and livestock pasture. More food to feed the fat and starving alike, before the zombies came to feed on the farmers. The soil was never the same after that. Part of him had almost thought that forest like that was extinct.
He ran his tongue over his teeth. The grass was blowing, like a high wind was howling across the mansion’s grounds. But he couldn’t hear any wind. Instead, he could hear the choppy thumping of what sounded almost like helicopter rotors. There was a crash from upstairs that shook the hallway. Plaster fell from the ceiling, powdering them both. Dust lodged in Burke’s throat and made his eyes water.
He grabbed John by his dog collar and wrenched him deeper into the corridor, moments before the capsule hammered through the ceiling, blocking off the door they’d just entered through. The metal peeled away like petals opening at the height of spring bloom, and the T-unit stepped down off its pedestal, clenching tight fists. Its doughy, flattened features and the light dusting of white powder over its camo green power limiter made it look almost like a figure on top of a cake. Absurdity aside, it was probably going to kill them both.
Burke grunted, looking ruefully at his hammer. “Shit, never mind.”
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Post by sexystrife on Jun 22, 2012 13:12:41 GMT -5
John sighed inwardly and decided to dismiss his irritation with burke, let the big oaf barge through doors that might have certain death beyond them. Tact was certainly not his strong suit. Though it seemed they would need to speak again on proper etiquette when escorting someone. Shak had never been one for manners, but she was at LEAST nice about it, titty twisters aside. The blonde growled, jerking from the soldier’s hold with the intent of responding with something sharp, perhaps something biting in tone but found his words dying along with his ability to breathe as the crash from upstairs rattled them both, revealing a capsule containing something horrible as the smoke finally began to clear.
John’s eyes widened as the creature emerged from the capsule, its white, expressionless face reminding him of something straight out of a terrible nightmare. John exhaled sharply, taking a small step backwards as the creature began to move towards them, its massive hands clenching and unclenching as though impatient. The priest wasted no time turning tail with burke’s massive frame trailing slightly behind as John dragged him with strength that had been beyond him moments before. No bullshit, he would hear nothing from him now. As they reached the door at the end of the corridor, the monster cornered them, growling something terrible as it lurched back with a massive hand and struck out with intent to kill. It’s intentions were halted momentarily by the loud fire of a pistol, reeling back momentarily as it reached for its face. John exhaled sharply, trying in vain to calm his pounding heart, and shaking hands as he lowered his smoking gun.
“GOGOGOGOGO!” The priest whispered in haste, practically shoving the larger man through the door into the other room as the creature tried to compose itself. They had to run, they had to run, they had to escape. They didn't have much time before the creature would inevitably find them again.
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Post by King of Cunts on Jun 24, 2012 9:54:03 GMT -5
Burke hit the door at the end of the corridor shoulder-first, not hard enough to break it down, but hard enough to make it rattle. He fumbled for the handle, hoping that Wesker would be two steps behind him the whole time. If he lagged behind, the thing would pulverise him with a single punch. He could hear its iron-soled boots crushing tiles into fragments beneath its massive weight. It probably weighed a ton.
It was bizarre to think that they’d been lucky. Whoever had sent this thing - and whatever else was happening, this was clearly Umbrella’s handiwork - had at least given them a break by sending a Stalker model Tyrant. He’d seen Marauder models tear up entire city blocks, and everyone in them. He’d seen them bring buildings down.
That didn’t mean the Stalker would be any easier to beat, of course. Apart from the pistol, they didn’t have any weapons. They were pretty much up shit creek, unless someone had left a rocket launcher for them somewhere.
He nudged the door open and dragged John by the collar again. He looked around wildly. Someone had already been here. There were wet footprints on the floor, and the door opposite was standing open. There was corpse lying on the ground, head stoved in. Too clean to be Shak’s handiwork, so that probably meant more survivors. More bodies weren’t what they needed right now.
The room was a bathroom, and strung to the ceiling were dozens of what looked like grenades. Stun grenades. He took a gamble. The damn thing had eyes and ears, even if they did look like they’d been moulded by hand. He grabbed one of the cans, letting the wire around the pin snag and pull loose. He spun and bowled it through the door, then slammed it shut. A moment later, there was an audible, concussive thud from the corridor as it went off. If it had an effect, there was no sign. Tyrant’s couldn’t vocalise. And he wasn’t about to open the door and check.
“Come on, let’s move,” he said, dragging John by a fistful of jacket into the U-turn in the corridor.
(OOC: Continued in the Bathroom thread.)
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