ring, ring [Exemplary]

[Albert Wesker]

A few moments of his unsteady shambling, and his strength began to return. The ache and pain was still there, of course; he was far too battered and bloody to recover so quickly. But focus, and adjustment could block it out. A decisive goal in mind, and a mind as fortified as his could cope with and push through something this trivial. The wounds were searingly painful, but only a few of them were grossly debilitating beyond the pain they caused. It was not the first time he'd been in such a state, loath as he was to admit any such thing. While it was far from a pleasant state, it was a tolerable one; he could function. And as he fought down the pain, he could function even better. Strength and steadiness returned, even if it did mean he had to slow his movements.

Careful, precise, painstakingly slow. Things he couldn't really afford to be under his current time constraints. But better slow, definite and constant progress than lurching, uneven spurts of rapid progress and then who knows how long racked with pain and unable to move onward.

Down the battle-ruined hallway he went, managing to push away from using the wall as a support after a dozen paces. A light had been blown out ahead, sparking and sputtering fitfully. The ceiling around it was scorched black, and marked with several gunshot impacts. Several more trailed away from it in a ragged line, toward one wall and down across it, toward a splash of something viscous and pale green. Quite the mess...but it did prove that there had definitely been some kind of a fight or struggle down here.

Moving past that scene, the next obstacle presented to Wesker was another intersection in the path. It moved on straight ahead, and turned to his left again. Many of the lights were blown out, down the path to his left, and ahead he could see stairs leading further down. Albert Wesker was not a man to be afraid of the dark, but he was also no fool. As difficult as it was to see, no telling what might be lurking down that lightless path; given the condition of this place, it might very well be remnants of whatever horrible event had occurred here. There was bound to be a light source here somewhere, a simple flashlight would do. Perhaps he could locate such a thing further on in his search.

As he slowly, steadily trudged onward, toward the stairs ahead of him, the alarm droned on. The automated voice rang out again: eight minutes until detonation. He ground his teeth together. Time was running out. He needed to hurry.

The hall was not without its own dangers, however. His careful tread was interrupted by a mass of spent bullet casings. Slipping, grinding and rolling underfoot, they nearly sent him toppling over, only bracing himself against the wall keeping his footing under him securely. A ragged breath, equal parts anger, relief and pain, hissed out from between clenched and bloodied teeth. For a precious few seconds he braced himself, taking another quick breath, before moving forward. The ground underfoot sagged and creaked worryingly, the stone shifting and cracking. Dangerously unsteady. Wesker was no architect or engineer, but he'd seen more than enough destruction and damage to buildings and structures such as this in his lifetime. One good impact with the flooring in this poor state and it was highly liable to give way entirely. A worrying prospect, but it would just require more caution.

He crept past the damaged ground, edging slowly along until he reached the stairs. The went downward, just as the map had indicated. There should be something down there to be of help. Security and the quarters for the staff that had stayed here long term were down below. With any luck, he might find something to get past the damn lockdown on the emergency exit. The stairs hit a landing below, rounding a corner to loop back around and mirror their initial descent. He could see light coming from below, but it was dim, flickering. Probably more damage down there. He grimaced, not caring much for that prospect. Still...nothing for it, save for traipsing back to where he had found the map and trying the other way. Nothing over there but the storage and supply rooms, only worth a look in an emergency. So...only one thing to do.

Carefully, one hand holding his samurai edge at the ready, and the other lightly resting on the railing of the stairwell, he started down, into the dimness below...