Snapping and tearing, one of the dog's mouth was open, all but swallowing Aunamee's hand as the bomb came down. Uncaring for the different between flesh and metal, realizing something was wrong only when the man's arm tore away (all ribbons of meat) and the bomb remained, a foreign, choking lump in its throat. It gagged and struggled... and imploded in a spray of bloody chunks and biting shrapnel made of bone and steel.

It peppered the car, flattened a tire in a hiss of air. Struck the other dog, taking it off its feet, destroying a leg, ripping into its chest, spilling out the remains of its rotted insides. (And yet still, it lay alive, shivering and whimpering, working legs kicking instinctively.)

A roar rose up from deep in Wesker's chest, an inhuman sound of rage - his pets - and a leg snapped up, spearing toward Aunamee's back in a vicious mustang kick with all his preternatural strength behind it.