monstermasher: (Default)
JUMPSCARES MOD. ([personal profile] monstermasher) wrote in [community profile] jumpscares2015-07-09 11:52 am

( OPEN ) GAME START.

▶ WHO: Everyone.
▶ DATE: July 9th, 2015 (Day 1)
▶ WARNINGS: Blood, violence, general zombie horror.
▶ SUMMARY: You've met with a bad... however that line goes. Welcome to Earth.

GOOD MORNING!


Please try and ignore whatever it is that you just heard. It should only last for up to a minute... maybe.

It... it is morning, right?

There are no windows.

There's a light, but it's barely considered one. The compound runs on a solar generator, but that doesn't mean it has a lot of power. The light seems to be hanging from the ceiling, swinging precariously. That's when you might actually start to wake up, sit up, find the things that are familiar to you... and then some of the things that aren't. It'd be wise to explore the small room you're in before leaving through the steel door, but there's nobody around to tell you that.

Outside is a tightly knit compound, just as dark and metallic as the room. The hallway you're in houses dozens more doors identical to yours, and if you're unlucky there may be more people poking their heads out through them, just like you. There's a dull glowing sign that reads MEDICAL BAY but not all of you remember being hurt. Some of you may be just fine, apart from the memory of the sound you heard when waking up.

The Medical Bay is stocked with enough medicine to last a couple of months. There's almost everything that can be found in a hospital. Somebody was thinking ahead.

Outside of the Medical Bay are more doors, some are even locked—many aren't. There are living quarters, a food storage, a kitchen, some laboratories; even a room full of computers and nothing else, all with a screen asking for a password. There's only two doors out of the compound, a vehicle bay with what appear to be a few military jeeps and trucks, and the front doors. It's on the inside of the front doors that something is painted in bright red, flecked with what smell like blood:

DO NOT GO OUTSIDE WITHOUT A GUN AND WATER.
GUNSHOTS ATTRACT THEM.
HOLLOWS IS 1.3 MILES NORTH OF HERE.
GOOD LUCK.


And on the outside of the doors, if you choose to open them:

THE WORLD ENDED JULY 3RD, 2015.


Now... how long ago was that? And where is this place? Luckily for you, Hollows is a small town that can be raided. It hasn't been too long since the apocalypse—surely you'll be able to find something there. Batteries, food, weapons, maybe some people—and what you're guaranteed to find. Them, whatever that means.

Outside of the compound there's a fence with a single gate. Nothing can get past this unless you let them in for tea, so be careful. There's a shooting range and a large shed full of weapons and ammo, enough to last two months if you're careful. Guns, knives, anything that would be used by the military and police is hidden away in the shed. There are even a few hunting bows with arrows.

If you climb up the ladder to the top of the wall, there's enough room to walk along the top. There's definitely something moving in the distance, something you should definitely be worrying about. Maybe it's time to get a good look with a sniper rifle...?

Oh.

It's gone.

Maybe it was just a trick of the light. Regardless, it's impossible for everyone to stay in the compound forever. There are nefarious things at work! The choices are to go to Hollows, stick around, or go somewhere else. Really, the world is almost a blank slate. Maybe more of a used slate, but still yours to explore.

When the night comes, you should be hiding. The screamers, the ragers, whatever the hell they are, are running full tilt through the streets and across the landscape, running through anything in their way, ripping apart anything alive. If you don't make any noise, they won't notice you. Especially since they're stuck listening to each other. But if you get noticed by one, it won't be long until a horde forms... you might be able to outrun one for awhile, but they don't seem to let up on their breakneck pace. Maybe someone should have told you how to kill them.

OOC NOTES.


There will be zombies in Hollows. Whether you meet them on the way there is up to you. Apart from the undead and the animals (maybe somebody should let those poor creatures out of their houses) the town is completely deserted. In fact, the closest thing you can find to a human are the bodies of those who died without being bitten, and there's even few of those. You can find anything you'd find in a normal town here, and are free to loot and raid the houses and stores—the cops won't be coming, after all. The power is OFF apart from what you can find that is solar powered or still has a charge. If you're lucky and find another town while exploring the first few weeks, you might find an area that still has power—thank hydroelectricity.

Just keep in mind travel time... and travel expenses.

You have creative freedom over everything else. The world is open. The only stationary places are landmarks and cities—if you want to go to Texas and talk to the poor astronauts stranded up in space, it's there. (Might be a long trip, though...)

If your character can figure it out by geography before getting to Hollows, the compound is located a few hours from the west coast, in California.

The way to kill a zombie is blunt force to the head. The head doesn't need to be removed, but significant damage needs to be done to it. This does not include the throat—it needs to be a headshot.

There's also a glaring hint. The computers in the compound, asking for a password. It is impossible to hack at this time. There will be more on this later!

Finally, if your character is exploring outside of the compound (or extensively inside of it) there's a comment here for linking me the thread. You can also PM me! I'll be ducking in with what your character may or may not have found, via a response to the actual RP thread.

IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS please direct them here!
doorbuster: (pic#9049332)

chris redfield / resident evil / you're going to need an adult

[personal profile] doorbuster 2015-07-10 04:01 pm (UTC)(link)
Chris is not having a good day. He's presumably nowhere near where he's supposed to be, so that already has him in a foul mood, but the raging headache and various pains that finally settled in to his muscles and joints are spoiling his disposition even further.

On the upside, the medbay appears to be fully stocked, and Chris is taking full advantage of that. He's making a fair bit of noise as he paws through drawers, cabinets, bottles- taking stock of what's available, and snatching a few small personal care items. Light pain killers in pill form, wipes, alcohol. Not the kind of alcohol he'd prefer at the moment, unfortunately, but he does have a few minor open wounds that probably require attention.

The broken(?) laser gun that he found in his room rests near him on the counter as he doctors himself up, looking very grumpy throughout the entire affair. He's not giving off the friendliest or most talkative of vibes, but he is sort of hogging the medical area...

Maybe he'll share, though.
minefield: (049)

cheer up chris

[personal profile] minefield 2015-07-10 08:05 pm (UTC)(link)
One huge problem Moira had found she had after waking up was the fact that she had used up all her herbs before arriving in this new place. Fighting the t-phobos infected islanders kind of required it, especially after she and Evgeny had split up. Though she still had plenty of ammo with her guns, with nothing to heal herself with, she felt uncomfortable.

So it was an easy choice to try and scavenge around the medbay, crowbar held tightly in her hand as she walks slowly, keeping an eye and an ear out for anything unsavoury.

It helps, when she hears shuffling inside of the room, and noises as though someone is moving pill bottles and boxes. Her weapon raises slightly, and she creeps up to the door and pushes it open slowly, ready to attack whoever is in there if need be (and that paranoia had saved her on more than one occasion, especially when she had been left by herself, or had to creep past the bigger infected on the island, even with Evgeny covering her back).

Of course, when she sees who it is, any thoughts of attacking immediately escape her mind. And hell if she isn't relieved to see a familiar face, even if it is her best friend's older brother.

"Holy shit— Chris?"
doorbuster: (pic#9323049)

THIS IS NOT CHEERING HIM LMAO

[personal profile] doorbuster 2015-07-10 09:59 pm (UTC)(link)
That's not something he expected to hear. He almost fumbles the pill bottle in his hand, shooting the source of the voice an incredulous look. It isn't a voice he immediately recognizes, and it takes a moment for him to place the face; his memory's still hazy around the edges, stalled from the lingering effects of hideous bar binges, exhaustion, stress, thoughts of China. But the realization ultimately hits him with enough force to send him mentally (emotionally?) reeling, and he's absolutely feeling the holy shit factor.

......"No."

Not no as in 'no, not Chris,' more like no as in 'what the fuck are you doing here?'
minefield: (033)

TURN THAT FROWN UPSIDE DOWN, MR. GRUMPY

[personal profile] minefield 2015-07-10 11:29 pm (UTC)(link)
"Uh, fucking yes," she pauses for a second, then continues with, "what the fuck?"

The last person she had expected to see here is Chris. But then again, he did always seem to get himself into these situations, and the last she had known— well, Moira didn't actually know. The last mission she had heard of him going on was the one in Africa, and after that Claire had gone quiet about him, and Moira hadn't wanted to upset her by asking and had been quiet on the subject. So she's only half surprised to see him there, because it's kind of insane that they would end up in the same place, but less insane that Chris Redfield, B.S.A.A agent is there.

At least she's in good hands.
doorbuster: (pic#9322921)

face in hands.....

[personal profile] doorbuster 2015-07-11 01:35 pm (UTC)(link)
Congratulations, Chris is feeling an emotion! It's... like, stunned, or something. He's not sure where to go from here, exactly, or how to swallow this new information. Moira's presence is only creating more questions that he doesn't have answers to, and as much as he likes the kid, he doesn't like not knowing why Barry Burton's fucking daughter is here or what she has to do with any of this or how both of them got here in the first place.

His face is an open book at the moment, and it's not a pretty book. He mainly looks like he's recently smelled something disgusting- no offense to her, it's just his deeply confused and conflicted face, apparently. Where does he even start?

How about starting small? "Uh..."

Okay, not that small. "How have you been?"

Yes, she is in the best hands.
minefield: (051)

ccc:

[personal profile] minefield 2015-07-11 04:54 pm (UTC)(link)
How has she been? Is that really— is that the best he can come up with? Moira looks as though she's been great, absolutely. Torn clothes, bandages everywhere, and probably would have been half-dead if it hadn't been for the amazing herbs that she had managed to find around the island. Yeah, she has definitely been great, there's no doubt about that.

"Pretty shitty," she says, holding up the bloodied crowbar in her hand. And yeah, she had definitely been fighting off a load of infected islanders just before coming here.

"... What about you?" And yeah, she's good at this whole confused conversation thing as well.
doorbuster: (Default)

[personal profile] doorbuster 2015-07-12 02:41 pm (UTC)(link)
His lip curls slightly at the sight of her crowbar; that thing is probably a source of bioterrorism all on its own.

Chris looks about the same, though- weary and worn with dirty clothes that have been singed, ripped, bled through, and ground-in whatever filth he's rolled and crawled though. All in all, it looks like he's been through a typical day at work. And he shrugs about it. "Been okay." Pause. "I retired." Yeah, Chris, you fucking look retired.

He's beginning to shake himself loose of his weird, confused headspace and he waves her over, setting a pill bottle down somewhere in the space between them as an offering. Gentle painkillers, of course, because she looks like she might need them, but he's not sure how much more (if anything) she requires. It's too hard to tell what's her blood and what's not. "Do you need to be patched up?"
minefield: (010)

[personal profile] minefield 2015-07-13 08:50 pm (UTC)(link)
The crowbar has been a trusted, helpful friend for the past six months. Don't blame Moira if she hasn't had the time to clean it off, considering she was killing infected islanders with it.

"Okay?" She asks doubtfully. While she isn't exactly an expert in Psychology, or anything related to telling if someone really is okay, just looking at Chris means she can tell that -- well, he doesn't really look okay. This might be a case of judging a book by its cover, but when it comes to Chris's line of work and what she has experienced... Well, she would like to think that she can tell, somewhat.

She tries to smile at him, especially as he puts down the painkillers, but after six months of pent up sadness, anger and fear, it doesn't really work out very well. "Uh," she looks herself over, because at some point the injuries just became redundant, especially when she couldn't find a herb. "no, I think I'm alright. Got most of 'em covered. Might need to find some new clothes, though."

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mucked: (☂ if heaven and hell decide)

[personal profile] mucked 2015-07-11 12:07 pm (UTC)(link)
She turns 'round the infirmary corner and...and having been here earlier in the day with no company to speak of, she finds herself dismayed (though not surprised) to see the room otherwise occupied. All that kinetic energy that had been driving her stride is dispersed in a slight sway as she comes to a sudden halt immediately inside the doorway. Quietly, but without any concerted stealth, she watches him.

It was the gun that first draws out her words: "Quite a toy you have there," she remarks. And with herself so announced, she skirts 'round his half of the infirmary so she might gather a bottle of rubbing alcohol from one of the cabinets. She'd forgotten it, earlier.
doorbuster: (pic#9049338)

CLAPS OBNOXIOUSLY hello peggy hello meet oscar the grouch

[personal profile] doorbuster 2015-07-11 01:22 pm (UTC)(link)
Quite a toy, indeed, but a legitimate toy would probably be more useful.

Chris turns to face the voice, tossing a small handful of supplies down near his adorable toy gun as he moves. There's nothing alarming there, nothing for major surgery or anything- some antiseptic wipes, pair of tweezers for any gravel or glass taking up residence in wounds, a couple small tubes of whatever lotions and potions he felt inclined to grab. Before he finally addresses her, he leans forward, resting his arms on the table while keeping her in clear view (he may have care levels of approximately 0 at the moment, but he's not entirely reckless around strangers yet) as he picks up the gun in one hand.

It's lighter than a gun of its size should be, and doesn't seem to handle any ammo he's used to seeing. Maybe that's why it's broken. "Be more fun if it actually worked." To demonstrate, he lazily aims it towards the ceiling and rapidly squeezes the trigger a few times- all the weapon does is make an entirely too happy (in Chris' opinion) click-click-click sound. And Chris looks deeply, utterly unimpressed by it.

Figures, right?

"What piece of shit party favor did you get?" That is, assuming she's in the same predicament as he is. Maybe she works here. Is this a friendly prisoner-meets-warden chat over medical supplies? Awkward... "Or should I put on my grateful tone of voice and call you an asshole for being the one who gave this to me?"

Manners, what are those.
mucked: (☂ talk and talk and talk)

[personal profile] mucked 2015-07-11 01:28 pm (UTC)(link)
She doesn't smile -- though something housed within his consternation amuses her. Or else she merely hears the frustration she wishes she could voice, but hasn't yet found it prudent to do so. Peggy has decided it most politic to keep her temper holstered for the time being. She doesn't flinch before the gun's triple-click. She only stands stiff and attentive. He's got a soldier's mouth on him, that is sure and certain.

Primly: "I gave you nothing. Quite the contrary: I got my own laughable favour. An umbrella." And a wicked-looking animal horn, but she keeps that part to herself. It might yet prove too useful to be the butt of her dry humour.

"I suppose I'll be the one to shout for when the downpour begins."
doorbuster: (Default)

[personal profile] doorbuster 2015-07-11 01:51 pm (UTC)(link)
At least she's not gun shy, he inwardly notes with approval.

"Sounds great," he deadpans, lowering the weapon and releasing it. The only reason why he doesn't flat-out drop it is because he's sure the clatter would aggravate his headache. "Stick close. You can keep the rain out of my eyes, and I can click everything to death." Okay, it's not all that bad; he does have plenty of other weapons strapped to his body like they're part of his everyday outfit (they might as well be), and those are fully loaded, so if worse comes to worst he's at least prepared for a minute. But it's the principle of it.

He can't remember the last time he was abducted and allowed to keep all of his fully lethal weapons, though, or given access to a complete makeshift hospital. It's kind of refreshing.

"Do you need something specific out of here?" He did a lot of rummaging, is all. Whatever she needs may have been moved... slightly...
mucked: (☂ catch a tiger)

[personal profile] mucked 2015-07-11 01:57 pm (UTC)(link)
Hmph. Again, no smile. But a wry puff of breath alerts him to the fact that she appreciated the near-nihilism of the situation. A useless piece and an umbrella: what a tactical team they would make. And she can (at least) admire his strapped-with-weapons look with a bit of honesty. Peggy has her eyes on a little Walther PPK back in the armoury but hasn't yet decided whether the sound of the shots would be worth its procurement. After all, the words had warned against such percussive noises. Instead, she has a bowie knife hidden (for the moment) in a satchel hanging off her shoulder.

"Alcohol." A pause. "Of the rubbing variety." She looks through the cupboard and (much as he imagined) couldn't find what she'd once seen sitting on the shelf. "I was a fool to forget it in the first place."
doorbuster: (Default)

[personal profile] doorbuster 2015-07-11 02:11 pm (UTC)(link)
That's all right, he'll barely-smile on her behalf. Just briefly, and it's gone again in the blink of an eye, but hey, he thinks they're being kind of funny. He's already used up all of his blinding-rage rations for the day (is it even the same day?), so he may as well move on to the 'finding humor in inappropriate situations' camp for a while.

Chris' eyes travel from the bottle of her inferior alcohol to her satchel, which earns a curious lift of his brow, and then back to her face. "Going on a trip?"
mucked: (☂ so powerless and small)

[personal profile] mucked 2015-07-11 02:17 pm (UTC)(link)
"More like planning for the eventuality. If it comes to it."

Her answer was cagey at best. It spoke not of intention, but of preparation. Even Peggy had not yet adequately decided what she would do once her bag was properly packed. She felt an immense draw to get outside and suss out the nature of this world and what had happened here, but she had renewed responsibilities here as well. Her reunion with Captain Rogers could have gone smoother, and now she knows she can't simply ignore the duty they have to each other.

And yet she packs, regardless. As though she doesn't quite trust his presence to remain. "Be prepared. So sayeth the scouts."

He looked like he might have been a boy scout. Once.

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kamikaze: (pic#9321407)

[personal profile] kamikaze 2015-07-14 04:19 am (UTC)(link)
This kid is pawy too. There's a lot to paw, to grab and shuffle and rummage through around here. So many supplies! Mysterious artifacts and confirmation that somehow, he was awaited, despite all evidence pointing elsewhere.

Upon entering this new room, Nux spots a very robust man digging through drawers. But the glint of a stubby, clean gun on the table nearby absolutely snags his attention and he makes a quick line for it. Grabs it up off the counter with a scrape of metal. Walked in from behind and maybe the stranger didn't see him but Nux's got this pretty pistol in his hands now, and comments with enthusiasm as he turns it over to inspect:

"It's got a lil' light on it?!" True awe.
doorbuster: (pic#9049332)

no stop being cute in my general direction

[personal profile] doorbuster 2015-07-14 04:58 pm (UTC)(link)
Chris doesn't see him, but he definitely hears him- or, rather, he hears the drag of metal first, and is turning just as the stranger gets all excitable over the little dud gun. The voice sounds rough to Chris, but he doesn't exactly expect to see that on the other end of it. He's briefly stunned; it's a kid who looks like he's been chewed up and spat out at some point in his life, and Chris suspects that if they'd been in slightly more chaotic circumstances, he may have even mistaken him for someone undead or otherwise infected with an incredibly unhappy virus of some kind.

He takes a short moment to just stare. As unnerving as a very off-looking young man enthusiastically handling a gun in his presence should be, Chris knows the thing doesn't work, and he also knows he's personally strapped with more than enough firearms that do work if he has to defend himself. Still, he can't help but feel a little tense, and his voice reflects the feeling as he says, "Something like that."

You know that wounded, confused, potentially aggressive dog sitting grumpily in the veterinarian's waiting room? That's currently Chris, while Nux is the nearby loud and fluttery bird that's setting him on edge.

No sudden sounds or movements, and all that. "Do you make a habit of sneaking up on people?" Pause. "Or touching their things?"
kamikaze: (pic#9321408)

only if chris stops bein so jacked

[personal profile] kamikaze 2015-07-15 04:20 am (UTC)(link)
A fingertip's stroking over the light in fascination, well aware there's another person, a stranger(!) right next to him, but what's the glow for? Nux's hands are quick and expert when he tries the pop the mag out. Doesn't work. His face knots up in confusion-happiness as he tries again, then again, to no avail. He's flinging it back into one hand when he looks back up at Chris:

"'s jammed."

Or broken. Nux blinks as if suddenly remembering that this person-- he doesn't know this person. What if they're a threat? Is the afterlife free of enemies? Do you make a habit of sneaking up on people? Or touching their things?

"Oh. This is your thing. Here." And Nux is quick to thrust it back at the man, preferring not to get into a fight unless he has to. Not right now.
doorbuster: (pic#)

shit

[personal profile] doorbuster 2015-07-15 04:41 am (UTC)(link)
This kid is... something.

Chris has an odd look on his face, one possibly of disbelief, as he watches Nux. He's not used to interacting with people so... forward? No, not even that. There's a quality he can't quite put his finger on, but it's cautiously pinging him as maybe-not-as-dangerous-as-expected. He waves a hand, dismissing the gun. Let him play with it for a while; not like it's going to fire. Probably. "Just put it back whenever you're done. And if you accidentally get it to work, I'd appreciate it if you didn't aim it at me. I've had a bad day, shooting me is only going to piss me off."
kamikaze: (Default)

[personal profile] kamikaze 2015-07-15 05:03 am (UTC)(link)
He can have the gun. He can have the gun! Nux bares it all on his face: elation. His grin is so wide it looks dangerous, and no, he won't shoot this man - will shoot the wall instead. Aims it and smashes an eager pointer-finger on the trigger-- !

Oh, but it's jammed. Or broken. Right. Nux tries to fire off a few more test-shots. Nothing. Disappointing clicks and he holds the glow-pistol to his face, frowning.

"I wanna open it up. Can I have it," Nux continues, asking that question like he doesn't actually want to be asking it. Wants to just take it and leave. But despite the storm of excitement brought on by The Gun, he's revving with interest for this stranger, too. Who is he?
doorbuster: (pic#9323054)

[personal profile] doorbuster 2015-07-15 05:22 am (UTC)(link)
Oh, he's got to watch this.

Chris stops what he's doing, turns completely so the stranger is fully in his sight, and leans his weight back against the counter. Where the fuck is all this excitement coming from? Is there some kind of new super-amphetamine around that Chris doesn't know about? Maybe that's why he looks like a walking corpse.

He's not sold on the idea of just giving the weapon away- not right now, since it's still new and potentially a clue of some sort, but he's not entirely opposed to opening it up. He doesn't give a definitive answer either way, though, and steers the conversation in another direction instead. "Do you know much about guns?"
kamikaze: (pic#9321400)

[personal profile] kamikaze 2015-07-15 05:08 pm (UTC)(link)
The Bullet Farm makes guns like they make cars. They're slipshod and temperamental things that jump at the chance to backfire, to kill their master before they kill the enemy. But there's thrill in shooting a firearm. Power in the way it kicks back, recoil something that cramps your fingers til you strain the muscles enough that it doesn't hurt anymore. Cars, guns, self-scarification: these are leisure activities Nux is used to. He's always excited to encounter something new from all of the above.

In the middle of scanning over the glow-pistol again Nux is asked a question. He looks Chris in the face, a small smile spread. Counts on his fingers:

"Glock, Point-Forty-Five-- uh, that's Colt-- Beretta, Smith & Wesson, Luger... turrets!" Not so versed in assault rifles and the like, handguns are more convenient and quick.
hookshots: ((not a game))

hope this is ok!

[personal profile] hookshots 2015-07-14 07:57 pm (UTC)(link)
A clicking resounds through the halls of the facility as Ada Wong moves, her head held as if she run the place. She had stuck close to the walls when she'd first awoken, steps soft and fingers wrapped tight around her gun, but as realization set in about the situation, she dropped the stealth: these men and women were in the same boat as her.

Umbrella, had been her first thought. The company, a term that no longer seemed fitting, had taken such tactics before, but the building lacked all the tell-tale signs: namely, their logo plastered upon every single surface. They had no shame, no need to hide themselves.

This was not Umbrella's doing.

The medical bay seemed to be as good an area as any to start searching for answers. There would be--perhaps--medical files tucked away, files that would--hopefully--offer some insight, even if just a company name.

"Need assistance?" Ada Wong leans against the door frame, bare arm against cool metal. Her voice may be oddly familiar, so close to another Ada Wong, but stilted--a remnant of an accent that she does well to hide.

He was in her way, and the sooner this muscled man was out of the room, the sooner she could sniff out answers.
doorbuster: (pic#9049333)

oh nooOOO i'm sorry he's dumb look at him tho what do you expect

[personal profile] doorbuster 2015-07-15 03:31 am (UTC)(link)
"Not really." He's being a very successful, intimidating bother all on his own, thank you.

He glances over at the door, and immediately double takes. That outfit. The hair, the face, the voice. It's so strikingly familiar that it jolts him in to a Pavlovian response, a sneer instantly on his face as he unthinkingly snaps, "What the fuck are you doing here?" The unrestrained feeling of pure anger overtakes him, stalls his brain, has him reaching for a gun before finally, finally he notices something is wrong.

Something doesn't fit. It's a woman who looks and sounds similar to Ada, but now that he has a chance to really look, he's not completely sure. His threatening demeanor slowly wilts away as he puzzles over this case of potential mistaken identity, but he's still clearly not comfortable.

"I'm..." ...sorry? He's not sure if he's sorry yet, either. "Who are you?"
hookshots: ((lotus))

its what happens when you're known for boulder punching

[personal profile] hookshots 2015-07-15 10:53 pm (UTC)(link)
Ada notes the double-take, the strike of recognition painting his features before becoming disfigured with rage. She's off the door frame the moment he reaches for a weapon, her own hand wrapping securely around the pistol holstered against her thigh. It wasn't the first time her appearance garnered such a reaction, her status as a former Umbrella operative has gained her more than her fair share of enemies, and she knew it wouldn't be the last.

He pauses, clearly uncertain. Her fingers loosen around the leather grip of her pistol, but she doesn't dare remove them. A man that is a danger is a man that should be dead. She knows it would be far safer if she just shot him now.

"I'm...", the most intelligent response would be to lie. She's had a handful of fake names over the years, and if he did hold some sort of grudge against her, it could keep her from having to kill someone so soon. People would come running at the sound of gunfire, no doubt,"Ada Wong."

She watches carefully for reaction, her eyes narrowed,"And you are?"