#[ i've legit been feelin' the apocalypse vibe lately & i replayed RE6 so have jordi's first encounter with a j'avo-like thing skdljfsd ]

[fiixer]

It's truly amazing how quickly a safe-house can become anything but.  To one like himself, that looming threat was anything but new, when a single word to the wrong person could place a target over any point on a map and lead to a breach.  What had changed was the invaders and the danger they carried.  Once upon a time, the biggest concern was other humans.  Dangerous animals, the lot of them.  Now it seemed that, despite all that had changed, that part remained the same.  What was left of people were deadly, when even their mere presence could potentially mean death in the worst possible way.  Once the barrier of any chose safe-house was breached, one may fight the assailants to their end, and yet still remained the worry of what else came with them; would the virus that made them pass on further?  How far would it spread between those inside?  Even after the immediate danger had passed, there was no clearing, no end, no moment to catch breath in the aftermath.  That part was different.  

That part, he was still getting used to, or so would be the claim meant to explain a lapse in guard; for failing to throw a second lock, and shove a makeshift barricade over to further block the door prior to stepping out the balcony for what remnants of fresh air remained in city limits, masked by the lingering smell of infection and rot, gifting himself that moment of calm before it was off to work once again.  Five minutes - it could not have been more, and the moment of peace shattered to the tune of splintering wood and the deafening crack of a door giving way, followed so closely by the triumphant wail of a voice once considered human.  Some would argue it still was.  He, on the other hand, has evidence to the contrary, when returning inside for naught but a minute caught the attention of two "people" whose short-term goal apparently included mauling his face.  Regardless, he'd made it down four flights of stairs and out the building's entrance before more could show up, so one might take a guess how close the pair came to said goal.

When Jordi guns someone down, they stay down.

Two more bodies added to the unending list he'd stepped over in his lifetime, though these two fell without their names in mind.  That helps.  Removing something human as a name only makes pulling the trigger ten times easier.  That is not to say there is any hesitation on his part, regardless of who or what stands on the business end of his .45.  In the way is in the way, and some folks still had a job to do.  Oh, and isn't that a wonderful feeling, knowing one is still needed when everything else goes to shit.  People - normal humans, he understands as much as one can, and as long as there are two still living, one of them will eventually want the other dead.  And, sooner or later, both of them will need something.  In either scenario, that's where he steps in.

It's where he should be stepping now, were it not for delays.  Preparing for a simple retrieval and delivery of basic necessities should not have taken long, but what can he do?  The two earlier were a surprise, and now here he stands, hovering over the battered, bleeding body of a third; a third who clearly drew the short stick when it came to infection.  Marred skin on his face, multiple…were they eyes?  They sure as hell looked like eyes, but that couldn't be, right?  Right, they had to be pustules of pus and sick forming in a rather unfortunate area:  all over the infected man's face.  That he now lay in a bloody heap surely counts as the most merciful point of his existence, so it qualifies as the Good Deed for the day.

Another adversary down - with a line of bullet holes to show for the trouble - it was time to leave before more came searching for the source of the noise.  A gunshot rarely goes unnoticed, and now it's capable of attracting a swarm, thus he spares only a moment to reload; stepping over a spreading puddle of gore with sights set on the alley's mouth, leading to the main road out of this particular area of the city.  On supply runs, the next neighborhood over had a tendency to yield better results, and he was running low on a few things as well, so for the sake of himself and the promised paycheck, it's in his better interests to make the trek.  The sooner he moved, the better, as now there was even more distance to cover once he got the job done, as his prior hideout had been breached and ruined, thus it was on to the next, and he'd prefer to be there and locked away well before dark -

Barely out of his exit's reach, he comes to pause.  In this part of the city, the days were often quieter, more serene, easier to pick out wandering infected or even passing survivors by the sounds that echoed around them, so when a sharp crack  vibrates the air around him, he stops in his tracks, breath caught in his throat; waiting, listening.  Another crackle drawn out and laced with a sickening, wet noise distinct of flesh moving, tearing, stretching, like ripping raw meat off a bone.  After a moment, with it comes a howl of agony that has Jordi whipping around to face it, arm outstretched with his gun at the ready, finger on the trigger to drop whatever sons of bitches happened across his little party; to stop their little feast on fresh corpse laying about.  

The problem was, the sound wasn't from a new mob.  Oh, no, it came from one; one who sports bleeding holes in its chest, knee and arms, and lacked a lower jaw, where a few bullets destroyed the hinge entirely and left it hanging.  One who now stood as steady as a sapling in a windstorm, its wounds sprouting solid tendrils of squirming flesh.  On its arm, an arm too long for the body from which it hangs, was a sharp point, a spike formed from whatever wicked mutation brought a dead man to his feet again.  More snaked between tattered clothing, flailed about in warning, and suddenly those eyes - and eyes they were, all seven of them - fixated on Jordi once again.

When Jordi guns someone down, they stay down.

At least, until they don't.