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Summary
Before Wesker could make it through to the hall, though, the ceiling above him crashed and caved in. Dust likely laden with a whole host of toxins spilled in a thick cloud, rubble peeling down from the roof blocking the door mildly ineffectively, but irritatingly.
In the center of the dust, scuffed and shocked like a child caught with its hand in the cookie jar, was of course Jill Valentine.
tldr: corporate espionage gone wrong ft. jill valentine
Series
- Part 2 of Ghost Stories