#spentshell

some commodities, in the shuffle of the end times, are hard to come by. clean medical supplies. an unspent clip. survivors with good intentions and a clear conscience. he'd tried to make a mental list the last time the quiet pressed in too firm, but he runs out of steam quick and carlos ends on the same thing he does every other ; levity.

jill's eyes are rolling but the grin underneath is all he needs to know the punchline landed. a dig at their first date not being his usual pace. less gunfire and blood, more salsa dancing and spicy food. the only thing he's been tasting for a while now is copper.. copper and grit he isn't unconvinced he shouldn't be worried about it. the same soot that sticks to sweaty skin. causes hair to sag heavy, down into a gaze that prowls the hall ahead and finds it quiet enough that his rifle can finally lower.

" maybe we can see a movie next time, " planning a future he wholly believes they'll have. stubborn optimism, it's saved him before. in the thickets of a muggy junglescape, it'd helped forget how his body ached from bullet wounds and sore muscles didn't recall a time when they weren't tense. pushing your will into existence — he knew a couple grunts who'd have scoffed at that.

boots are careful where they step, around a can he doesn't want to rattle. through the damp pile of newspaper soaked through with red. carlos has led himself between jill and the course ahead, part on instinct and partly because.. she's not looking too good.

one of his molars is wobbling, unsteady as his legs, and carlos had taken to tonguing it. focused on the tang of iron while meticulous hands work loose the shrapnel caught in his side. not so deep to be mortal, but enough that bile had risen to his throat while she tugged. another drive.. another torque..

" yeah ? " it's shaky, but the laughter is earnest. helps to straighten him in his makeshift seat, boots sliding out further ahead of him. " you think this looks good, you should see me when its someone else's blood. " that was somewhere on him too, hard to distinguish, but smeared in the mix. what @biohvzvrd — claire, he reminds himself, the name given — had been dabbing away with a cleaner rag than he'd expected to find around the city, now.

scheduled at a rendezvous should make him less keen to idle. pretend there was still means to secure the city. he knows the protocol and what's expected of him, and, maybe.. maybe that plays a part in why he hasn't gone. postponing the inevitable so he can make-believe this is as normal as any other triage he'd been part of. less tweezers, more fingers, and he's hissing when that squelch signals she'd gotten it. slapped a hand over the wound before it gushed, pressure on top of a siv.

" you're pretty good at that, " he'd watched his uncle patch a tub once with painter's tape and glue, he supposed it wasn't that much different than this. more movement, he'd note. a subtle flex of muscles, appreciative for how the absence lets them go unhindered despite a sting, " you do a lot of it ? "

carlos had been shifting his rifle over his thighs, fingers wringing the barrel as she worked and, now, it's allowed the swing that sits it upright, readied between his knees. a good angle to check his clip. give thanks to the big guy upstairs that it was half-full and not the other way around. precision aim had brought him this deep into the city, here's hoping it'd get him out just as quick.

get them out, the thought corrects itself.

" i said it was a promise, didn't i ? " had hooked pinkies when making it, too. shook claire's arm until his own tired muscles begged him to stop. he'd find her after. dig through whatever rubble he needed to till he came out the other side of a city determined to be both their tombs. close calls, tickling the back of his neck as they'd been, a little worse for wear, but.. " you think a few missiles are enough to take out ol oliveira ? " no, but the right hook of his co had rattled his teeth till he'd almost let them. a thought to sober his smile back to something small but deliberate. a place he could retreat to, if necessary. " pretty sure you promised me dinner, too. "

he was pretty sure there'd been something else, an asterisk, an addendum, he's forgetting. carlos chooses not to search for it. you don't ruin moments digging for lost things ; he planned on remembering this. the sun brightening her hair, a firehawk that was never going to die because some asshole in a suit somewhere wanted her silenced. if he's stalled on her eyes, he doesn't try to help it. he'll look away when she tells him to. " kinda thinkin' a shower might do me some good, first, though. "

they don't make it far. barely close in on that shattered front door before her voice trickles from the dark behind him and stalls out carlos' march. off to some loose concept of safety they could both pretend wasn't just a pipedream and a prayer. had to, or risk this city swallowing them up, cautious and sedentary.

maybe that's what she wanted though.

in the rows of emptied produce, the memory of an over ripened melon squelching beneath his boots, the supermarket wasn't the worst gig to try and hold. but food doesn't make up for a lack of security and he's already spent half a clip clearing out the entryway to know there'd be more, sooner or later. shambling spectators who wouldn't see the charm in her sentiment like he did. cause for his smile, soft and small, quick to come and quicker to go.

" that's a good philosophy to have, " tight circles leave less room to be broken. less room for new people to wander in, also, however. " can't say i blame you for it right now, either. " looting had stopped, not because folks had grown a conscience and realized they weren't bettering matters. it'd stopped because it'd run out of new bodies to throw at doors and windows. outside was a horrorscape. not the most death he'd ever seen, but the staggering number climbed by the second and only a wilted populace would keep it from topping the charts.

umbrella wasn't an implosion so much as it had been dismantled in small, concise pieces. some sank into the dark and continued their work, others were terminated ( quite literally ) outright. and then there were those like him. the ones who tore the badges from their shoulders. they shed the skin of corporate obedience and returned to lives that were only slightly less dubious. spread like the fingers of the world, out to all corners, yet he'd stayed put. lingered there in pennsylvania longer than he'd ever considered prior. waited. adapted. filled the many, many needs for a handyman or mechanic while time ticked by and another email went unanswered.

at first, they'd been his. checking in. making sure she'd not gotten herself into some new trouble wherever she was out there. and then.. then they were less so. lacked the friendliness of usual conversation and turned instead into something he'll admit, now, felt unenthused. routine, even. tapped into existence for the purpose of saying he'd done so. and if nothing came of them ? he'd be okay with that.

it means that, when the eventual reply does come, his heart has no right to lurch as it does. a leap into his throat, pushed outward in a grin no one but his reflection can see. claire had kept him waiting, but.. he'd always been a pushover for a pretty face.

carlos needn't swallow his pride to accept the invitation, fingers stumbling through a hurried response he'll cringe when thinking back on, perhaps, but never regret. let her find him over-eager. a dog off his lead, jumping despite being told to heel. no orders to follow but his own, he'd made way to the address given without the fanfare of a struggle. a wrong turn downtown, sure, but he'd never been above asking for directions. or getting two cups of brew in as he waited.

mid order for a third and the bell over the entry door chimes the arrival of blazing hair and a familiar face that's owed his smile. wide, lopsided, it's a toothy affair that waits long enough for claire to speak before opened arms take the bold route. it's an embrace he'd spared his brothers, mostly. not too tight, hand clapped to her back while his shoulders shake their way through her response.

he could work with a little bit.

boots on the ground, they'd parted the initial sea of snapped jaws in one calculated wave. set an example for the rare few of raccoon city's civilians who'd taken up arms. and the tides should have stayed on their side. they should've waded the worst of it and come out the other end barely worse for wear. one more reminder that plans were better made as after thoughts and the only good ones were on the fly.

he's glad it isn't a bite. keeps stretching his fingers and forming a fist that begs that leak in his glove to stop. ease the flow so he'd not feel its trickle every time he pulled the trigger. starts a new itch that spikes upward and lands in a strong jaw, five-o'clock-shadow long since striking midnight. so close to a tickle, it's easy to grin with her input. glance upward and take in more than just the toes of @opherative 's pumps. over stocking-clad knees, carlos stops at the hem of ada's dress before flicking upwards to find her face. remembers some far-off manners that, in retrospect, had more to do with that wound on his hand than any life lesson taught by an absent mother. man made shield, it'd been a matter of time.

" yeah.. it'll be fine though. " the hole would mend itself. a nice, patchy scar to tell his future grandkids about some day. make up a story that doesn't leave their skin crawling with the same sinking feeling his does, there. with another groan on a skyline, the night doesn't care if they're tired. " 'm a big boy, i can handle it. "

elbows to knees, he's put sore spots towards the back of his mind. returns to the now. pins a somewhat familiar face with the scrutiny it's warranted. her being here, in the thick of it, didn't make sense. umbrella had protocols. they had a system and it started and ended with the ubcs. bold, certain, the line in the sand no one was supposed to cross. and up till now, they hadn't. submission from the living, he understood that. could make it make sense. gunfire, trenches.. it'd been an enduring stent since he'd say he missed the jungle.

it's always when time is sparse that there's an interruption. it's not her fault, but carlos' labored breathing and tight trigger-finger, sat readied by the guard, speaks to a rising frustration. in the soiled patches of his fatigues, two pockets torn and a third hanging on by one very, very stubborn line of thread. why he hadn't noticed, at first. didn't catch the sting off a wadded mess of wire fencing, squeezed by between volley and reload and— it hurt.

" what ? " arm raised to the glow of a nearby fire, the flames spitting closer and inching him deeper down the alley, " nah, it's just a scratch. " leaking a puddle into the lining of his glove, the leather will hold its stink for a while. it'd crack the more he formed a fist inside, stretching fingers that only spurt another fragile geyser he presses into his side. stems the flow while laughing, brittle but trying, " i'm good, promise. " compared to everyone else he'd run into ? this was a boo-boo. it'd scar. it'd make for a good story. but with the warmth blooming out into his t-shirt, his pace maintained, he's making it clear to @def1nitives he had no intention of stopping. with the subway in sight, it'd have been stupid. would have earned him the scolding of his co if anything happened to his charge.

" c'mon, we're not far now, " ten minutes to spare, she'd be on that shuttle. would get to wave goodbye to this nightmare.. to the wide, hungry maws of broken faces. where carlos aims a shot, fires, and fires again just to be sure.