While I was thinking, the picture came back, and I realized I was hungry. I also suspected that this slight discomfort was related to what I had done to the recipient's memory. That's what returned to me. "Yeah, my brain boiled over." Yes—sarcasm again. I'm incurable!
After tracking the movements of the corporation's team of fighters, I realized I had withdrawn into myself not for long. The brave soldiers passed the neighboring room and engaged in a firefight with one survivor and two "newbies" in the room next to mine. I paused, thought for a moment, and realized just how hungry I was. Since that was the case, I didn't want to jeopardize the plan because of a potential attack of thirst. I quickly moved to the corpse next to the dried and decapitated one, and began to drink it. What can I say—the dead man was less varied and appealing in taste, but still better than the dogs.
Although Lickers were clearly in the lead. Out of curiosity, to see how much I could consume, after seven seconds I broke away from the already dried-up body and moved on to the next one, wanting to check if I could eat my fill—or at least stock up.
Forty seconds later, I tore myself away from the seventh person I had completely drained and realized that I didn't know where it all fit inside me, but I felt like I could drink all the corpses in the hall to the bottom. The strangest thing was that I didn't even swell up, even though I had consumed a lot for my build. And blood is thicker than water, so I should now look like a barrel of blood, but no—my stomach was still slightly sunken, just as it had been before. Let's hope at least my thirst would be satisfied for a long time after this.
I got to my feet and noticed that I was leaning to one side. What the hell was this? My body felt strangely familiar, and after drinking all that blood, I experienced a strange euphoria. I thought I was just drunk. Well, at least I wasn't completely wasted!
Thinking this, I jumped onto the wall (on my third attempt) and crawled toward the squad. The room beyond the hall was large, with a door in the left corner. Right in the corner. In other words, once I entered the room, all I had to do was turn—to the right (what did you expect, I was upside down)—and rush forward.
Due to a certain euphoria, I somehow missed the fact that, despite the presence of dark corners, the squad I was chasing was still there—right where I was rushing so quickly. And only when I entered the control room did I realize that I was not alone here. Why did I decide this was the control room? What else could you call a place with a bunch of monitors receiving information from surveillance cameras? Then it dawned on me: if there were monitors showing all this, there must also be cameras sending the information. This was bad. All I could do was pray that the soldiers wouldn't notice me on the monitors and connect my movements behind them with the radar of one of them.
Meanwhile, the Umbrella soldiers had just finished off the last survivor and were checking the pulse of the others. There were still no casualties among them, but now the commander was also covered in bandages. Where had she managed to injure her hands? But despite her injuries, she held her rifle confidently. Huh? She used to have an automatic weapon!
Although, I wasn't the only one who preferred looting.
As soon as I appeared in the room, Ghost and Foue Eyes immediately began to spin around, scanning the area. Okay, the first one was understandable, but what about the second? Although, maybe she had a radar or something similar, just with a more limited range? And why not? A specialist is good, but if something happens to them, then what? So it was logical that someone else in the squad had a radar too.
Hmm, either I had finally sobered up, or the intoxication of blood didn't particularly affect my consciousness. Of course, I could check how steady my footing was by climbing down from the ceiling and walking across them at full height—but I'm no suicide bomber.
"Ghost, Foue Eyes?" The nameless commander said briefly, referring to the behavior of her subordinates.
"Sonar… has gone mad," Ghost replied insinuatingly, while the second person simply nodded, confirming both his words and my thoughts.
"That's not important right now—we've reached the recordings." The second part of the sentence was accompanied by interference. Radio?
"Excellent. Now you can get into the server room and completely destroy the city archives." A man's voice came through the commander's receiver.
"Look at the monitor… over there. That's today's recording from the security cameras," said Ghost, pointing to one of the monitors. Oh—it showed the events I had observed through the walls while still outside the building. Heh, Nikolai really had closed the door behind him, and Zinoviev's squirming subordinate was shot by him. Handsome!
"Wow, our handsome guy set up his subordinates," the blonde said with some strange intonation. Is she a pervert or something?
"They didn't put up much of a fight…" Oh my God—I thought he couldn't talk! The one whose suit I had noticed spoke up.
"Foue Eyes," said the squad leader again, in a commanding tone.
"The recording has been copied. Let them deal with him at the base." The girl in the mask with transparent glass—and the second radar operator in their group—understood their boss correctly.
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