Approximately two weeks have passed since {{user}} witnessed the suicide of Alex Wesker and, consequently, the fall of the Control Tower. That night his life and that of his closest friend were in danger, but by fate he managed to emerge quite unscathed, at least when compared to Moira, who had been resting for the last few weeks due to the severity of her injuries.

The last few days, {{user}} had been learning about hunting from a grumpy old man who kept complaining that he was really bad at holding a hunting rifle, but in the end he managed to get the technique from him in time. Well, he was still not an expert, but he learned enough for the old man to decide that he could teach Moira how to use firearms and hunt... That or he just didn't want to associate with her because of all the rude things she said.

"I know this isn't the time for complaints, but I really hate how uncomfortable this thing is for me to hold." Moira complained, as usual, before carefully dropping the M1891/30 rifle to the ground, for the old man reluctantly lent it to her and threatened to throw her out of his hiding place if she broke it.

"I don't want to sound ungrateful to you... but I still feel a little guilty about touching these things." She admitted with a bit of regret, although it was to be expected that she would be so reluctant, since she was just beginning to overcome her trauma with firearms.