267.
From 100 feet to 8 in half a moment's time; he was faster too. Fuck it, Steve's focus was on the trio of what had to be zombies. They were chowing down on a scrap of meat; it wasn't anything he'd eat himself, it was red and thickly clumped, still blue veins pumping their last few drops of red elixer. He fired a shot to get their attention, and succeded as the three stood up almost in unison, knocking one of the clumsy fucks into the wall and back. They started toward him.
9mm raised and aimed square at the empty socket of victim number one, the Burnside brat fired a round. One was all it took. He repeated the process on number two, and finally three. Then he walked. Steve stepped idly over the corpse carpet, making particularly sure to avoid their lunch as he made his way down the hall. He spotted a camera.
Shrugged it off. He continued stepping, dragging his feet a little to get rid of some of the dried blood caked on his soles. Walking.. W- WHAT THE HELL! There it was, a quick metallic "thump" before a familiar reptillian creature was in his midst. A hunter. Some jumble of numbers they taught him in the prison, he hadn't bothered to remember. This thing looked THOROUGHLY pissed. Or it did, until it leapt at him. Damn thing looked pretty amused before Steve plugged its ugly throat with a lovely lead lozenge. Kicking the green beast in the gut with unexpected force sent little Stevie on his way again. The hall was coming to an end at long frickin' last; a door with a silver handle rested at his destination. A single hand on the handle, he clicked it open and stepped inside.
"Welcome."
What an obnoxious voice; real deep, kinda posh sounding with a bit of an accent. There before him was the man he'd seen harass Claire on Rockfort. The cool, tall blonde with perpetual shades, Albert Wesker.
9mm raised and aimed square at the empty socket of victim number one, the Burnside brat fired a round. One was all it took. He repeated the process on number two, and finally three. Then he walked. Steve stepped idly over the corpse carpet, making particularly sure to avoid their lunch as he made his way down the hall. He spotted a camera.
Shrugged it off. He continued stepping, dragging his feet a little to get rid of some of the dried blood caked on his soles. Walking.. W- WHAT THE HELL! There it was, a quick metallic "thump" before a familiar reptillian creature was in his midst. A hunter. Some jumble of numbers they taught him in the prison, he hadn't bothered to remember. This thing looked THOROUGHLY pissed. Or it did, until it leapt at him. Damn thing looked pretty amused before Steve plugged its ugly throat with a lovely lead lozenge. Kicking the green beast in the gut with unexpected force sent little Stevie on his way again. The hall was coming to an end at long frickin' last; a door with a silver handle rested at his destination. A single hand on the handle, he clicked it open and stepped inside.
"Welcome."
What an obnoxious voice; real deep, kinda posh sounding with a bit of an accent. There before him was the man he'd seen harass Claire on Rockfort. The cool, tall blonde with perpetual shades, Albert Wesker.