A Star's Descent

Chapter Fifteen: Imminent Danger

A Star's Descent

By evolution-500

Disclaimer: House of the Dead and Resident Evil are properties belonging to SEGA and Capcom respectively. I do not own any of these characters.

Chapter Fifteen: Imminent Danger

Note: Thanks to EcoSeeker247 for the title suggestion

When Enrico Marini climbed up into mansion foyer with his companions, his jaw stiffened.

"Looks like they had some trouble," Coen murmured as he eyed the massively barricaded door.

Turning away from the sight, Marini's eyes narrowed onto something else.

Aiken's eyes widened.

"Please tell me that's what I think it is," he prayed aloud.

Positioned right at the foot of the stairs was the desk with the typewriter, but what caught the trio's attention was the outline of what looked to be a pump-action 12-gauge shotgun propped behind the typewriter itself.

Coen stepped eagerly forward.

"Hot damn! That's a Remington Model 870!" The convict said excitedly, "And would you look at that, there's a box of shells just sitting on the barrel like a bow! Looks like Christmas came early."

"I wouldn't get our hopes up," Marini replied. "We don't know if it's real or in working order. Let me take a look."

Stopping just in front of the typewriter, he carefully looked all around. Satisfied, he gave exhaled.

'Okay, no sign of any traps, looking good. I hope this is the real deal,' he prayed.

Ideally speaking, it would be great if the Remington was - with its seven round magazine and force, it would be more than enough to keep these zombie fuckers at bay. However, when it comes to firearms, one had to take certain precautions and check. After all, it was not unheard of for owners to alter firearms so that it became more of a wall decoration than an actual functioning weapon by removing critical parts. What made Marini especially nervous, however, was its condition; if the weapon was in too poor a shape, chances were that it either wouldn't fire, or - in some instances - had the potential to explode within the wielder's hands.

Please God, don't let there be any problems.

Carefully moving the box of shells to the side, he was about to grab hold of the shotgun when something fluttered down to his feet.

"Huh?" he uttered, startled by the movement.

Looking down at his boots, Marini saw a piece of paper. Bending down to one knee, he picked it up with his right hand and started to read.

"'To my dear companions,'" he began aloud, "'To aid you, I left some items that I have found in a backroom near the dining hall. Feel free to make use of them. Yours sincerely, Star.'"

"Well, that was nice of him," Coen said.

"I don't think this was meant for us," Marini replied.

Convict and police officer alike shared a look of unease.

"Then who?"

Pocketing the letter, Marini straightened himself up.

"I don't know," he said as he dusted off his pants.

Turning back to the desk, Marini slung the hookshot's harness around his shoulders as he lifted the shotgun off from the table.

Beginning his examination, he first checked to make sure that the chamber was empty. Satisfied with that, he looked over its frame, noting how for the most part it was in pretty good condition, despite a few scratches in places. Lifting it up so that he took aim, Marini's trained eye looked down the barrel for any signs of dents or bulges while checking the stock fit in his grip hand to make sure that everything felt as it should.