Let's post this in the right place this time, shall we? Who: Claire Redfield. Open to whoever. What: Doing what she does best, and eventually getting herself into a bit of trouble. Where: Around the activities center. When: At night. Rating: Again with the R for gore.
It was late. She'd lost track of time since she hadn't actually been inside since that morning. It felt like she'd been out for twenty-four hours, but she knew it couldn't have been because it hadn't lightened back up yet. She had found another group of survivors, guiding them safely back to the nearest manhole and opening it for them, holding the infected off while they climbed down. And then it was back to work, killing as many of them as she could. She was done helping survivors, since she figured that at this point, anyone still alive would be infected past the point of no return. That was how these things worked.
She saw another few staff members in the distance, fighting off hordes, and went down another street to see if she could lower the number coming in that direction. Maybe make it a little easier on them.
But holy shit, there were a lot of them down there. Easily twenty. She breathed deep and took the SMG's from her thigh holsters, aiming and firing on them. 'Spray and pray,' was what Leon called a situation like this. A few of them caught sight of her, and she turned her head to see one from behind charging at her like it was possessed. Turning the rest of her body, she dropped one of her SMG's for a moment and grabbed the knife from her waist, tossing it and hitting the creature square in the eyes. With it sufficiently distracted, she knocked it down and yanked the knife out, kicking it while it tried to scramble back up and stomping its head in.
That still left the matter of the six or seven that her SMG's hadn't cleared out, however. She grabbed for the one on the ground and fired on them, only to run out after killing the two on the outside. She grabbed her knife and prepared to fend them off the old fashioned way. She refused to be a damsel in distress. She was too experienced for that. Knife out, she watched them, only to hear a low groan behind her, turning her head to see another crawling to it's feet.
Yeah. She was sufficiently screwed this time. This really was just like home.