https://t.co/Bfst26U2Q5

he zeroed in on a man standing off towards the furthest doors from him, left side seemingly made of metal. chris had no time to assess him, as his entrance marked the man stalking towards him. whoever this was, he wasn't a friendly.

back of his neck, and chris found himself standing a little straighter, head on a swivel. the courtyard had been ominously clear of enemies, once he'd dispatched the venomous hunters he'd encountered here earlier, but that was too good to stay true in such an open space. now, +

would stop at nothing. besides, it was his fault his sister was in this mess. if he'd only found some way to tell her that he was okay, not to come looking for him. . . the cargo elevator stopped with a lurch and a loud rattle, letting chris hobble off. the hair stood on the +

claire needed him. his determination outweighed the fear of any monster, any fire, any injury. he WOULD get to claire. wesker had fucked up by telling him that his sister was in the antarctic. hadn't he known that chris was a cockroach ? once his eyes were set on something, he +

( @RZHAVlY ) low on ammo and wielding a concerning limp, chris redfield was only mildly worried about his chances. if so much wasn't at stake, maybe he would have taken the time and cared for his wounds, rested while he had a chance and wesker didn't have eyes on him, but +

the walls pulsed and swelled with his footsteps. the floors groaned, the windows howled, the ceilings dripped viscous rot. the mansion was a beast, a living thing, and chris had unknowingly dragged himself into its maw, armed with nothing but a bayonet and an overinflated

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ https://t.co/lwLhMouRN4⠀ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ㅤㅤ

alive, watching him, and he had to keep moving despite the jackrabbiting of his heart and the ever sinking feeling of hopelessness settling over him.

breath escaping in a small, shuddering puff of air. the sound of crows calling to him startled him from his short respite, and chris sprang back into action, pretending like the tip of the knife in his grasp wasn't trembling. nowhere was safe — the house was

instinct made him run for the closest door, straight ahead. he had to be quick, ducking away from outstretched claws before swiping at the doorknob to yank the door open. once he was safe on the other side, chris let his head fall back against the door with a soft /thunk/,

something, he'd read). replacing the key on the platform with the dummy, he would check the foyer once more before looking for some way to sterilize and wrap his arm. chris stepped back into the hallway, greeted by the sudden slap of quickening footsteps coming from his left.

chris had been pushing back towards the main foyer periodically, hoping he would run into jill, barry, captain wesker, /anyone/. his arm was dripping, drops that trailed from the hallway where he'd just been attacked by one of those faster infected with sharp talons (crimson. . .

self confidence that was dashed across the rocks near-instantly. the dead walked once more. chris could put them down and they'd just stand again and charge him faster the second time. the mansion itself was a puzzle by design, one chris couldn't simply smash his way through.

the walls pulsed and swelled with his footsteps. the floors groaned, the windows howled, the ceilings dripped viscous rot. the mansion was a beast, a living thing, and chris had unknowingly dragged himself into its maw, armed with nothing but a bayonet and an overinflated

hiding in the room behind the clock tower, chin tucked to his chest and arms folded. snoring softly.

you got a widowmaker ??

thumping head on @DIEKREUZOTTER's door instead of his fist. sluggishly reaches up and slaps the doorbell when he realizes he doesn't have his key.

https://t.co/3yJEooCEny

very much felt like i was being stalked the entire time.