Quality Assurance Testing Room

Jack Cavanaugh wrote:

Saoirse O'Neil wrote:The bit about the spider made her shiver. "Jaysus... don't be jinxing us now Jakie boy! Christ, if I stumble into that in there, you're gonna fuckin' hear about it!" Saoirse replied, before waving her hand without looking back at him. "Figure out why me shotty's shitty too, if ya ken?" She says in a faux Scottish accent as she opened the door to the oddly placed bathroom.

(to here)

"Again, not joking!" Jack called back, as he grabbed her weapon and nodded, watching her back as she entered and swept the bathroom. He didn't see anything of dangerous note besides the state of an ancient stall as she entered before the door swiftly closed behind Sersh and her wide, swaying hips. He shook his head, checking out the weapon before he continued a preliminary check of the area. With some effort, he managed to get the bolt open, the spent red plastic shell flying overhead before plopping into the murky water to his left. He glanced over to the shell, observing it floating upon the gross surface like a fishing bobber.
Jack brought his eyes back to the shotgun. Definitely needs grease, but I've only got oil on me. I suspect the bolt was oiled now looking at it, instead of properly being greased. Oil gunked up the interior and fowling got mixed with the oil... such a rookie mistake. The young man sighed and shouldered the weapon alongside his AR-15. He took out his maglite and began looking around in the darkness.

He found a nearly full box of 9x19mm:



...as well as a rather anemic box of .45 ACP:


Both were on steel crates with faded Umbrella logos on them, the 9mm box not too far from the bathroom where Saoirse entered, while the box of .45 ACP was on a crate closer to that rusted bridge heading over to what looked like those Gamma Hunter Pods. He decided to take both boxes, just in case.

+46 9x19mm
+10 .45 ACP

He took 23 bullets from the box and dropped them into his bag, giving the other half to Saoirse when she returned. He'd hold onto the .45 ACPs for now, as neither of them held a gun which was chambered for the cartridge but it was better to take it than potentially regret it later; besides, he still had plenty of room left in his waist bag and other clothes. He continued to scan his light across the dimly lit room, making out far off items on that 'island' where the low hanging pipes stretched across to. No way I'm jungle-gyming my way over there, fuck that... he thought, as he carefully approached the bridge and crossed it towards the large capsules across the way.

Jack Cavanaugh wrote:

There was no doubt about it, these tanks were the same Jack and Yoko had encountered prior to his white rapid river ride through the sewers. The Gammas or 'Frog Fucks' as Saoirse so eloquently called them, resided in these pods. Even though there were only two tanks here compared to the seemingly endless supply of them in that factory, he didn't feel comfortable standing before them. That army of frogs was enough trouble with a handgun and .44 magnum... I'd rather not fight another as long as I live, let alone two more. He thought. Utility lights were gently hanging over the tanks, illuminating the writhing, but thankfully still unconscious 'Frog Fucks' within.

Behind the capsules was a large magic mirror reflecting his image back at him. He could tell as he could just make out the shape of a computer on the other side thanks to the glow of its screen. But that wasn't all he saw. A figure, too hard to make out fully was standing there with arms folded behind their back or at their sides. He drew his Beretta and pointed it threateningly at the 'mirror' figuring the creature was a zombie till he saw it run!

Jack Cavanaugh wrote:As far as he knew, the zombies couldn't run! "Wait!" He called to the figure, holding up his arms. "I'm a friendly! Don't go!" He screamed at the window, noting the shape darting off to the left. Jack followed as best he could, eyes on the figure's movements before his left shoulder hit the wall. He winced, but one blue eye witnessed the figure backing into a doorway before vanishing on the other side. "Shit..." he spat, holstering the pistol and rubbing his sore shoulder.