[Jill Valentine x (m) Reader.] Right Place, Wrong Time

Hunters in the Halls

You wrap your fingers on the walkie-talkie. "Tyrell, Carlos– where's Bard now?"

  "Gotta be the lab in the back. Stay frosty. We're on our way."

  "Likewise," you flick your eyes at the doors you're about to pass through. "I'm pushing ahead."

You see fresh signs of the virus inside in less than a minute. If the empty interior wasn't enough for you to piece together that the undead is somewhere inside, then the blood you pass by rides your nerves to a sweat... "And there you are..."

The waiting room has a handful of the zombies, and since personal matters are involved now, you don't play any games. You flick the safety off of your carbine, and get to work, and continue to do so as you shoot, cut, and sprint your way to Doctor Bard.

The room is suspected of having the Umbrella doctor, of course, locked and secured by a voice-activated lock. You bang on it with your fist, calling for Bard to open the door, but as your luck would make, there is no response other than a female computer voice bickering at you that your voice isn't recognized. "Of course," you look at the next door. "Things are never meant to be easy."

Dispatching a few more walking corpses, you stumble over another obstacle. A lot of the doors here are locked via keycards. You curse at this new nuisance and rub your temples out of frustration. You are both annoyed but somehow grateful that the hospital didn't let every visitor enter and be free of the building. At the same time, you wonder if Umbrella was supposed to issue you master cards to get beyond these locks. Without those cards, you couldn't search nearly as profoundly as you needed to help Jill Valentine.

There are all signs of something worse than the undead people of Racoon City being in here, however. Unfortunately for you, you are more than familiar with human conflict to consider these signs of something of public panic. There is more blood in these hallways than in some of the rooms you searched in the police station. You can't help but wonder if whatever is inside here has started to go after the same monsters you've been fighting since coming to Racoon City.

These thoughts are confirmed when you breach a study room of shorts—a place for medical records. There are several corpses in here, gray from being a walking horror but torn into pieces by something much more substantial than your carbine. A lump forms in your throat while your fingers tighten their grip on your weapon. Your flashlight casts a light across the blood-soaked carpet and recently splattered walls. However, as you search the room, you find a stapled piece of paper stating that all keycards were required and that all staff keep it on them or inside their personal locker. Instantly, your eyes flick to the door where the sheet of paper was found. You try to pull on it, but it's locked—at least this time with a regular key. You exhale. A fucking key... How would you find a key that belong to this exact door?

There was no in-between here. There was an eerie silence and stressful shooting of what was remaining of the staff and sick. Occasionally, you swore something was moving fast in the corner of your eye, but it was always so silent that you chalked it to unfamiliar stress plaguing your mind.

Eventually, after a few horrible minutes of walking around aimlessly and searching the dozens of bodies around the hospital, you find the key that's responsible for keeping the locker room secured. Oddly enough, you see it in the courtyard where you last suspected it to be. Your luck continues as you also find a keycard inside the locker room.

To your misfortune, this is where your luck ended. On your way out, you ran into whatever else was stalking around in the hospital hallways. It was much more...alien-like in its appearance. You first thought of it as an oversized shrimp, but the way it looked at you told you there was more to this creature than a bottom feeder. These were hunters.