(A/N: A big thank you to MaloKen 17/ Ky-Outlawswordsman for their work 'Saving Piers' on deviantART which inspired the fic and for creating the cover image.)

8:16 PM, August 24th, 2013

"And you're certain the room is secure?"

"Affirmative, sir. Jensen and I are outside the door as we speak. Smith and Kimball are rechecking the security room, but they confirmed that the add-ons to the cameras are working. A few bribes here and there and the staff were more than happy to let us do our thing. Our communications suite is locked down, and I just checked the encryptions."

"Check again!"

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Check again! I am dissatisfied with your performance, Captain. When I hired you, I was assured that you would perform to the highest standards, and so far I have yet to see anything beyond mediocrity! Continue down your current path, and your pay check is slashed in half. Are we clear?"

"…yes, sir."

"Excellent."

(****)

Idiots. He could hear everything. SPECTRE-Tech at its finest.

He'd have to thank Vector for the little gift later.

The target: Caulder Berith. A former Neo-Umbrella scientist, renowned cruelty and sadism in his experimentation. He was wanted by both the BSAA and his employers for his crimes, but he was crafty, easily slipping through their net and forging a false identity to operate under.

But HUNK was craftier still. Despite his intelligence, Caulder was arrogant, and while properly paranoid, had slipped up by choosing a five-star hotel as a hideaway. HUNK had been silently tracking him for three weeks, and he honestly couldn't believe that the man thought he could get away from the people that wanted him dead by hiding in a private hotel that merely had a high tech security system.

After the operations Umbrella had him pull, this was an insult.

The target's room was located on the fifth floor. Two guards were still in the security room while two remained outside the hotel room. Caulder had set a rotation every two hours, the latest of which would occur in thirteen minutes. The man himself would partake of a bath at 8:30 like clockwork, during the changeover.

This operation had to be played smart. The goons and Caulder himself were no threat, but HUNK had no desire for his presence known to the general public. As far as the world was concerned, HUNK was dead and gone, a misconception he was loath to break.

Hence, the materials for the plan. A splice controlled by remote control connected to the power for the block and the hotel's emergency generator. A SPECTRE-Tech voice modifier. A short range communications jammer. And of course, a stealth camouflage system.

The operation would commence in approximately three minutes.

Time to get to work.

(****)

The loading dock was the first stop. Access was easy enough. HUNK merely had to pick the lock and he was in.

The next step: the elevator. Caulder had reserved the entire floor, so it was doubtful that anyone else other than the guards would be there to get in the way.

Just the way he liked it.

(****)

"Hey, Boss?"

"Yeah?"

"We're done in the security room. Heading back to the elevator."

"Move it. Our employer's getting antsy again. I swear, this is the last time we ever…"

(****)

Wait for it. Wait for it.

"Alright, boss. In the lift now."

Time to activate the splice.

The hotel primarily ran on the same power grid as the rest of the block, though there was an emergency generator prepared in the event of a blackout.

HUNK had of course taken the time to sabotage both.

The effect was instantaneous.

Throughout the whole hotel, power shorted out. Appliances stopped running, computers and phones shut down.

And most importantly, the lights and elevators cut out.

(****)

"Shit! Smith, Kimball, report!"

"We're fine, sir. We're just stuck in the elevator. Power's out."

"You think I don't know that? Arrgh….Jensen."

"Yes, sir?"

"Go downstairs and see if the hotel staff can do anything. I'll stay here and make sure Caulder doesn't lose his shit."

(****)

Perfect. The second guard walked down to the stairwell, completely unaware of HUNK's presence lurking in the shadows.

The jammer was activated next. Another SPECTRE-tech design, it was able to switch between frequencies and block communications one-way. As an infiltration tool, it was worth its weight in gold.

HUNK couldn't allow the captain to alert Caulder while he was…disposed of.

Activating the stealth camo, he crept down the hall towards the captain. The fool wasn't even paying attention to his surroundings, focusing his complete attention on his 'malfunctioning' radio.

"Sir? Sir! Can you hear me?"

Those were his last words. HUNK grabbed his neck and quickly snapped it. Catching the body before it hit the ground, he switched the jammer to the second frequency. No need for to alert Caulder if one of the others radioed in.

"Captain? Captain! Answer me, damn it!"

Speak of the devil.

"I'm here, sir" he intoned through the voice modifier. "There's been a power outage-"

"I know that, you fool! What are you doing about it!?"

"My men were returning from the security room when the power went out. I've sent Jensen to go help extract them. If you wish, I can keep guard in your room until they return."

"Yes, very well. Get in here. And be cautious! I have a feeling that this is an orchestrated event."

How right he was. Procuring the key card to the door, HUNK silently dragged the body through the threshold before just as quietly locking the door. If all went well, there wouldn't even be a scream.

The sound of splashing came from the bathroom. Evidently, Caulder had no interest in wasting his bathwater even in a power outage. Fine by HUNK.

The scientist grunted as the door opened. "What is it-"

HUNK wasted no time. Grabbing his target's neck, he snapped it in one fluid motion. Clean kill once again. The body slumped into the bathwater, and HUNK ignored it with dispassion honed from experience.

Time to begin the exit. The voice modifier was activated again. "Jensen, get back here. The client's shitting himself senseless over the blackout. I need you here to help calm him down."

"What about Smith and Kimball?"

"We'll buy 'em a brew or two later as an apology. Besides, they're big boys. They can handle an out-of-order elevator. Now, hurry it up, would you? Caulder's on the verge of a panic attack."

"Ah, really Chief? Seriously, this guy's just…. Alright, I'll be back in a minute."

A minute was all he needed. The captain's body was unceremoniously dragged into the bathroom and placed beside the final resting place of the target. After that, Hunk activated the jammer again, this time on Jensen's frequency. No chances were being taken, not this far in the game. Positioning himself behind the bathroom door, he awaited what would be the last kill of the night.

He didn't wait long. Tensing like a predator waiting to strike, he heard Jensen whistling as he strode through the doorway. Yet again HUNK moved in for the kill, and yet again a man died from a neck snap.

It was done. Clean-up and exfiltration were the only remaining tasks. Jensen's body was deposited with the others in the bathroom and the door to the room proper was locked securely on the way out. Power wouldn't be restored for another fifteen minutes, which gave HUNK plenty of time to vacate the building. Stealth Camo was engaged again, and the ex-Umbrella specialist snuck through the stairwell and out through the loading dock. Activating his com-link, he transmitted his message through the encrypted frequency that had been provided.

"This is HUNK. Mission complete."

(****)

9:00 AM, July 16th, 2013

He wasn't breathing.

That was not good.

She hadn't dragged him all this way for him to give up now.

Quickly, she checked his pulse. It was there, but barely. She needed to act fast before he faded.

CPR it was. Placing her hands on his chest, she started pumping with all her strength before enclosing his mouth with hers, pumping oxygen into his body.

It wasn't working. Come on.

He needed more oxygen, but how the hell was she-

Wait a second. She had a way it wasn't nice but it was a way.

With a groan, she split her head and unlatched her siphon. It was used to feed, but here and now, it had a different purpose. Clamping it over his mouth, she exhaled copious amounts of air into him while she inhaled through her 'regular' mouth.

Come on. Work. Breath. Live…..please.

Her arms throbbed, her lungs burnt, but still she pressed on.

It would work. It had to work.

Then she felt a convulsion rush through his entire body. Then another, and she yanked the siphon off of him, withdrawing it back into her head. His eyes fluttered open, and for a moment they held hers, before he heaved himself to one side and puked out seawater and blood.

Okay. He was up. That was good, but what did she do now?

(****)

Piers felt like death warmed over, but through some miracle he was alive. He was alive.

Groaning, he wiped his mouth and rolled back onto his back. The sun shone from up high and he covered his eyes with a hiss. Briefly, he heard something shift beside him and quickly rolled to the side, years of honed instincts urging him to move.

It was that figure from before, the one that had pulled him up the beach. Blond, with her hair tangling down her shoulders (which also seemed to be obscuring her eyes), and some kind of webbing covering her chest. A large red scar ran down the length of her right arm, and small spikes protruded from her upper forearms. Of course, all of this paled to the tail that made up her body from the waist down.

Were Piers more gullible, he would have called her a mermaid. As it was, he knew exactly what she was.

"B.O.W.!" He snarled and raised his arms in defence, intent on somehow warding off the creature. Then he noticed his arm. His twisted, C-Virus mutated arm.

Oh right, he was a B.O.W. too.

The unknown B.O.W. was smiling nervously now, gesturing to herself and then he in a primitive form of communication. It was obviously an attempt to calm him down.

If anything, it made him feel more unsettled. How the hell was there a B.O.W. that was this intelligent?

(****)

Was it working?

She wasn't sure, but she knew he was panicking. The best thing she could do was just make herself as non-threatening as she possibly could and hope he'd calm down.

He was staring at her, with his gaze switching back to his arm briefly as he raised it in some form of self-defence. She felt nervous now. What was he going to do? If he fought, she'd flee. No sense sitting around out of her element if things went violent.

They maintained eye-contact, scarcely breathing as the surf crashed around them. One of them would have to make a move eventually though, and the stand-off could go either way.

It was Piers that made that move. Stumbling slightly, he got to his feet and limbed up the beach, heading inland. He made no move to acknowledge his saviour, whom watched him leave with a morose look on her face. Slowly, she slid back into the sea, and with a flick of her tail disappeared back into the depths.

(****)

10:30 PM, August 27th, 2013

"One hundred and three, one hundred and four, one hundred and five…"

'Take it slow, Billy. No rush, right?'

That sadly was the truth. Ever since his imprisonment (the guards preferred to use the term 'forced guest'), there had been practically nothing for him to do other than work out and keep himself in shape.

As far as prisons went, it wasn't half bad. If anything, Billy had half-expected to be used in some weird 'experiment' (i.e. turned into some kind of monster or having to fight some kind of other monster) or otherwise thrown into a dank cell and left to rot. Instead, he'd been given a basic but decent room, three meals a day, and use of the facilities whenever he needed them. His captors had even included a TV with a DVD player and movies, though he couldn't connect to actual broadcasting and so was ignorant of the goings on in the world.

Despite the comparative luxury, it was still a prison. Billy darkly recalled trying to knock his guard out during a bathroom break and getting tazered for his trouble before being thrown into the cell for three days. The security cameras on the walls were another reminder and he'd already used up all the filthy gestures he knew earlier in the week, so that avenue of entertainment was out.

Hence, his work-out. A soldier had to keep himself in shape after all, and it at least made Billy actually feel like he was doing something productive with his time.

A knock on the door roused him from his musing, and just as he stood from his sit-ups, a squad of guards burst into the room. All armed and armoured to the teeth, ready to kill him at a moment's notice. Billy was obviously still considered a threat.

"I'm goddamn fuckin' honoured.'

"You're coming with us," the leader said as they spread out around him. "It's time for your…interview."

(****)

They led him to an actual boardroom, nicely furnished and smelling like it had just been cleaned. Whoever wanted to speak with him either found the idea of doing this interview 'the right way' funny or they genuinely thought that he was worth the effort.

Whatever. Billy just wanted to get it over with and then kick some ass.

After a half-hour of nothing but whistling, unanswered questions and complete boredom, he finally just gave up.

"Hey," he addressed the room at large, "are we actually going to do something, or am I stuck here twiddling my thumbs 'til judgement day?"

"Oh, we're gonna do something alright, Billy boy."

'Oh, shit…'

The officer from Lanshiang stood in the doorway, with one major difference; a lack of headwear, allowing Billy to see a face that he'd hoped never to look upon again. And one that he'd always wanted to punch, too. With a roar, he lunged for him, but before he could get even an inch across the room the guards' rugby-tackled him to the floor.

"Ah, you always did have a temper on you, eh Billy? Guess that's why you killed all those poor innocent people back in Africa."

Through gritted teeth, he ground out "Eddie…."

An unamused smile graced Eddie's lips. "It's Killbane, remember?"

"I don't give a shit what you call yourself you son of a bitch. Why the hell are you here? Why the hell am I here? And above all else, how can I throw these goons off me, grab you and choke you to death?"

"Ha! Same old Coen. All bark, no bite."

"I'll show you bite-"

"Not now." Killbane drew a chair and sat down on it. "Now, are you gonna sit like a civilised man, or do I hafta have my boys here beat you half-way to death and throw in your cell 'til you cool off? And this time, no comforts. Just a dank cell, mouldy bread, and water 'til you're in a more co-operative mood."

Tensing, Billy considered his options. There was a lack of appeal to the second option, the greatest objection being another beating. Two, maybe three guys he could take, but not a full half-dozen. He didn't have a clue what was outside the boardroom as well. For all he knew, a death squad had guns pointed at the doorway, and he wasn't in a mood to find out. He'd play Eddie's game for now, and if he could get out and gut the bastard along the way, he'd take the chance. He too took a seat.

Killbane's grin grew wider. "Always knew you were a smart lad, Billy."

"Shut it. Start talking or I just might take you up on option two."

"Alright, alright, keep ya hair on, Coen." Shifting to a more comfortable position, Killbane fixed Billy with an appraising gleam in his eye/ "I'm here to offer you a job."

"What?"

"You heard me, a job. My superiors want you dead, and if it were anyone else, I'd have capped ya myself and left the body in that alley. But you, Bily….you're a special case. I mean, you did pretty well in Africa, all things considered, what with all the killings and stuff."

Billy snorted. "Am I supposed to be flattered by that, you ass?"

A deep laugh. "Oh, take it as a compliment. But seriously, listen to what I've got to say."

"I'm high up on the food chain in this joint. What I say goes 'cept when we're dealing with the people up top, so here's the deal; you join up with this outfit and you get an instant promotion to Lieutenant with all the benefits and the pay check. You'll have to work under me, but considering that you were under me before, it'd be a piece of cake for old habits to come back from the grave, right?"

"And if I refuse and try to make you choke on that smug grin of yours?"

Said grin stretched further. "Well, you'd die for sure, but there's a…insurance policy in place to make sure you take the contract."

"The hell that's supposed to mean?"

"Oh, yeah. Didn't mention that." Killbane made a great show of studying the folder in front of him. "Let me paint a picture for you."

"There's this guy in the Army, right, and he and his unit have been deployed to Africa to take out a guerrilla training ground, 'ecept they get thrown off c ourse by a bad-air drop. When they're in the jungle, most of the unit gets killed either by the heat or the enemy 'til he just wants something to shoot, something to make the guerrillas pay. So when what's left of the unit stumbles on a village that had the great misfortune to be mistaken for the training ground, he snaps. He kills twenty-three people before anyone can stop him. Innocents, Billy, can you believe it?"

"…"

"Not talking, huh? Well, sit back. The story's just getting started. Now, when he's court martialled back at base, they sentence him to death row and he's shipped off to Regathon Base to die. Problem is, the van's forced off the road and everybody's presumed dead including the prisoner. There's even a file reporting the whole thing by some sweet little S.T.A.R.S. officer an' all.

'Get on with it, asshole…'

"So yeah, life goes on. The whole Arklay thing, then Raccoon, then all this other shit, and that prisoner just vamooses from everybody's mind. 'Cept, he didn't die. Turns out he made a fake identity: William Cullen."

"So good 'ole Will drifts for a while, odd jobs here and there, and winds up working for Terrasave in their Security Division. Good gig, reasonable pay, get to go overseas, the whole shebang. And then Langshiang…"

"Will goes for his daily shift but doesn't report back in. His CO gets nervous, sends some guys to check out what happened to Cullen. They case the joint but don't find nothing. His quarters get searched, and this time they find something in his e-mail. Turns out Will was collaborating with some bio-terrorists, picking up some C virus from a drop point and getting out of the city before anyone noticed. So's they do a full background check, no stone left unturned, 'til they get a tip from Interpol that 'Will' wasn't even Will to begin with. It's Billy Coen, former death row inmate turned bio-terrorist, and he's been biding his time 'til he could get the goods and make some moolah, endangering the lives of potentially billions to satisfy his need for money and murder." Killbane leaned forward in his seat. "Like it so far?"

By now, Billy's blood was boiling with rage and frustration. If what Killbane said was true….then his masquerade was over. The world at large knew who he really was now and on top of his wrongful conviction, he had been branded a bio-terrorist, which meant that every government under the sun wanted his head. Worst of all, he was trapped, and he knew it.

Leaning back, Killbane regarded him with a critical eye. "You've only got two choices here, Billy. That whole story? All true. You've been set up as a bit of 'insurance' to ensure your co-operation with us, and if you still decide to spit on our faces, then that means we line you up against the wall and get it over with. The only way out of this pit is take me up on my offer. One-time deal only. You're good enough for that, but not beyond. It's your choice where the story ends."

With a sigh, Killbane rose from the chair. "So what's it to be? The sun's setting on your life, Billy, but there's still time to get in Apollo's chariot and drag that fucker back across the sky." He purposely strode over to the fuming Billy and offered his hand with a cruel smile.

"C'mon, won't you shake this poor sinner's hand?"

(****)

5:37 PM, July 17th, 2013

The beach was utterly deserted, devoid of all life except for shellfish, seabirds and himself.

Piers had spent the better part of the previous day lying in the shade, feeling his body recover from wounds that would have killed him outright had it not been for the virus in his system. The same virus that was his duty to destroy. He couldn't decide to laugh or scream at the irony.

After his body had healed over, scars fading and flesh knitting itself together again (a process that had disturbed and fascinated him), he'd started scouting out part of the island he was on. There were signs that it was inhabited or at the least had some human presence, though the soldier was leery of making contact with other humans considering his…condition.

Grimacing, he re-examined his new arm. The appendage had remained the same throughout his recovery but Piers swore that there was something lurking under the skin, another mutation that could make his situation even worse than it already was. Thin sparks of electricity occasionally spouted from the tips of his 'fingers', reacting to his agitation.

At least he still retained his mind, though the possibility of turning into a chrysalis and mutating in an even worse form was still around…

A splash caught his attention and he looked out to the beach. That B.O.W. was back, the dying rays of the sun reflecting off her wet form as she pulled herself onto the sand and Piers automatically tensed. For all he knew, she was back for a fight. Cautiously, he picked himself up, prepared to fend her off if need be.

She glanced at him, and he thought her lips twisted down in a frown before pointedly turned her back to him and looked out towards the sunset, staring intently at the horizon.

Slowly, Piers keyed down. She obviously wasn't there to attack him, and if he was being honest with himself, he felt rather ashamed of how he acted the previous morning. She'd saved his life for (apparently) no reason other than to save him and instead of thanking her, he'd simply walked off.

An apology would go a long way. Even if she brushed him off, he could at least say he tried.

Picking himself up, the newly minted B.O.W. strode over to the 'mermaid', whom made no move to greet him and kept her gaze on the horizon. Seating himself on the sand next to her, he briefly glanced at her and then looked to the half-set sun.

For a while, there was only the sound of the surf and seagulls.

"I'm sorry."

A faint quiver ran through her body, but still she did not look to him.

"You saved my life, and I didn't thank you for that." Piers paused, gathering his thoughts, then continued. "When I saw you, I panicked. I mean, you're…not something most people would expect to see. But you still saved my life, and that at least deserves a 'thank you'."

"So thank you for rescuing me. And I'm sorry that I walked off like I did."

He extended his hand. "My name's Piers Nivans. Nice to meet you."

Slowly, the 'mermaid' B.O.W. turned to face him, allowing Piers a glimpse of sea-green eyes and a large red scar similar to the one on her arm around her head. After a moment that felt like eternity, she smiled and clasped his hand with hers.

"R…ach…ael."