The room was brightly lit and well furbished, with plush couches and glass coffee tables tastefully placed around it; a waiting room if there ever was one. Being told to wait like this…it didn't sit right with HUNK. Umbrella at least had been prompt in their debriefings (usually because something had the higher-ups chomping at the bit for the next operation) and even if he was forced to wait for the board to actually do something, there had been a shooting range or training mat available for use. These days he was stuck in a room that looked like it'd been furnished by an editor from a home décor magazine and told to 'read one of our up-to-date magazines'.
No thank you. He'd much rather lean against the wall and brood.
It'd been a changed world ever since Umbrella bit it, and HUNK was most profoundly aware of that sorry fact. The company had trained him, made him the best operative they could and HUNK had been loyal to them for that, no matter the unethical experiments they presided over; he had been useful to them, after all. He'd thought of himself as…valuable.
That had made their betrayal even worse.
The Raccoon Operation he could understand. If he'd taken the time to check that Birkin really had died, then the scientist wouldn't have infected himself with G and kick-started the chain of events that led to the destruction of Raccoon City, which in turn had implicated the company's involvement in the aforementioned destruction. Even HUNK himself had to agree that even if the primary objective had been completed, it had been a colossal fuck-up from beginning to end.
Rockfort had been a different matter. The 'Organisation' led by the traitorous Albert Wesker had bombed the training facility, which had released the t-Virus from one of the laboratories in the devastation. HUNK had merely been presiding over the transport of an unknown cargo from the Antarctic terminal to the island when the outbreak began. He'd rallied what men remained in the aftermath of the bombing and successfully escaped aboard one of the facility's cargo planes, at the cost of half his surviving forces. Despite the lack of other viable options, upper management believed that he should have retaken the condemned island rather than flee and promptly ordered his execution.
HUNK had not taken that well. Oh yes indeed, he had not taken that well.
After escaping the prison facility, he'd gone underground for a number of years, surviving on a list of independent contractors like his current employers. It was, he reflected, a system that never died out just expanded. Someone always wanted someone else killed quietly and professionally and they always approached people like him; the ones that had those qualities in vast quantities and didn't ask any irrelevant questions.
He'd also managed to re-establish contact Vector after the Raccoon Trials were finished. There were very few HUNK thought he could trust and depend on but his former student was at the top of that list. Sentimentality was weakness in his line of work but he could honestly say he was pleased that Vector had escaped Raccoon City before its destruction. To this day they kept in touch, exchanging intelligence whenever possible.
Their last communication had actually been before he'd arrived at the location his contractor had specified. HUNK had been mildly surprised that said location was a bunker located in the Chersky Mountain Range in Siberia but compared to some of the locations Umbrella chose for their facilities (the Arklay Mansion came to mind) it was sensible. Whatever was going on with this group was most likely not strictly legal, but again HUNK wasn't paid to inquire about the employer or their mission.
"Mr HUNK?"
The woman who had showed him into the room called out from behind her desk. "Your contractor will see you now."
The operative nodded once and walked to the door she pointed at. Crossing the threshold, he was immediately accosted by a pair of guards, both armed with machine pistols and eyeing him warily. "You'll have to forgive us," an unseen voice drawled in an English accent, "but you have to submit to a cursory search. One does not have someone of your skills sit down to talk with a weapon within reach."
The first guard promptly frisked him over. HUNK was utterly unconcerned. He had of course left some obvious weaponry on his person as a plant while inside his sleeves he had installed his hidden blades as a precaution. To be fair, his entire body was practically a weapon anyway but it was prudent to have something else to fall back on.
The guard passed over the TMP and combat knife to his compatriot. "He's clean," he stated through his mask as the second unloaded the gun and placed both weapons to the side. For some reason, the second made HUNK feel very uncomfortable, as if he knew him from somewhere. He had a feeling that behind the facemask he was smirking at him, a notion that only served to make him even more unsettled.
"Thank you for submitting to the search. We may now begin negotiations."
The darkened room brightened considerably, revealing the man sitting at the conference table. "Please sit," he motioned to the seat at the opposite end of the table.
"I would prefer to stand."
"If that is your wish." The man pulled some papers out of the folder before him. "Well done on the Caulder job by the way. A clean operation; the best kind of operation. The payment has been transferred to your private account. His passing was the end of your contract."
Good. Business was concluded. "I'll take my leave then," the ex-Umbrella operative nodded once and turned to the door.
"There is another…lucrative…target that might pique your interest,"
A pause. Then, "Speak."
Another pause, this time from the contactor. "I'm afraid that we cannot discuss the details of the mission unless the contact is accepted."
An odd stipulation, but one that was acceptable. "Very well," he said as he approached the table again. "I accept the contract. What are the parameters of the mission? Who is the target?"
The barrel of the TMP pressed against his head. "You are, Mr Death," an all too familiar voice gloated.
Biting back a curse, HUNK ground out the name of the man he'd hoped dead for over a decade.
"Nikolai."
(****)
Killbane's smile still hadn't lost that wicked edge, even nearly two decades later. "C'mon Billy, just extend your hand. Take me up on this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."
Billy didn't have much of a choice here. The only thing he could do….
….was extend his hand.
With a smile, he looked his former superior right in the eyes and rocketed out of the chair, flooring him with a right hook to the jaw. Cursing, Killbane hit the floor hard but Billy had other things on his mind. Rushing one of the startled guards, he grappled with the hapless sod briefly before tearing the M4 out of his grasp. Smashing his face with the butt of the rifle, Billy quickly shot two of his compatriots and threw himself over an overturned desk, taking cover behind it when the rest of the squad got their bearings and started shooting.
Clutching his jaw, Killbane made a break for the door. "10k to the man who puts that's fucker down," he snarled as he passed the squad.
Billy wasn't going to let him get away. Leaning out of his cover, he briefly took aim and squeezed the trigger, aiming to take out the remainder of the squad and their commander. Unfortunately, his aim was slightly off thanks to his position and most of the bullets went wide. One got Killbane in the thigh and he shrieked, a terrible sound. Another man went down thanks to a bullet to the gut while the remaining two were unscathed. They laid down fire, intent on killing him, and Billy was forced back into cover. "Next time, Eddie!" he shouted as his former captain limped out the doorway.
(****)
Nikolai Ginovaef; a former Spetnanz and UBCS member and HUNK's so-called 'rival'.
Damn it all to hell. He was supposed to be dead.
"What the hell are you doing here, Ginovaef?"
A laugh escaped Nikolai's lips. "Oh, just my job, Mr Death."
"And that is?"
"Ah, but that would be telling, yes? Besides, that information would mean nothing to a dead man."
"One question: why?"
Nikolai sighed, almost tenderly. "It is because you are too much of a security risk for us to let you roam free. Who knows what damage you might do, even if you know only the smallest piece of the puzzle? Better we are all rid of you before it comes to that."
"You assume that you can kill me? Don't you remember, Ginovaef? The Death cannot die!"
"As far as last words go, those are somewhat lackluster." Cocking the Glock in his grip, Nikolai readied to shoot. "Do say hello to my men for me, would you?"
Just as he was about to pull the trigger, the sounds of muffled gunfire emitted from somewhere within the bunker. The noise briefly startled Nikolai, and that moment was all the time HUNK needed. Flicking out his blades, he stabbed Nikolai in the gut, earning a cry from the Russian, and ripped the handgun from him before he could shoot. In the same movement he grabbed his old rival in a chokehold and proceeded to use him as a human shield. The guards froze in the act of raising their weapons, unwilling to shoot their superior, and that was the opportunity HUNK needed to put a bullet through both their heads. "You were saying something?" he hissed into Nikolai's ear.
Even through the pain, Nikolai smiled. "Age hasn't slowed you down a bit, eh?"
HUNK's response was to try to break his neck. Unfortunately Nikolai was much too canny for that. Smashing a boot into his shin he proceeded to elbow HUNK in the gut, forcing him to release his grip. Hissing in frustration under his facemask, HUNK attempted to shoot Nikolai but at that moment the semi-forgotten contractor tackled him which threw his aim off. Throwing the man off, pausing for a moment to put a bullet through him, the operative turned back to Nikolai but he had already rushed out the door. The prompt siren of an alarm sounded, signifying that the whole base was now alert and out for his blood.
This did not overtly concern HUNK. There had been worse odds in the past and there would be in the future. Retrieving his TMP from the corpse of the security guards, he checked his corners before moving down the hallway.
"Beginning operation."
(****)
"All units, find the prisoner and fuckin' gut him! I'm offering a promotion to the guy who bags Coen! No, no I gotta better idea. Bring 'im in alive. I want to pay him back personally for the leg! Both knees, ha! Ya hear that, ya motherfucker! I'll make you regret the day you crossed Captain Fuckin' Killbane, you fuck-"
"God, do you EVER shut up?"
Things might be slightly going pear-shaped for Billy right now. After he fought his way out of the conference room, scavenging ammunition and grenades from the bodies, he'd tried to find the exit to the facility; a task easier said than done. He'd killed a number of personnel all gunning for his blood while running through the seemingly endless hallways, all coloured the same beige and blue.
Killbane's voice was also goddamn annoying and giving him a killer migraine.
"He's in here! This way!"
Cursing, Billy unloaded his acquired M4 into the fireteam that had just crossed his path. They went down in the hail of bullets but miraculously one emerged unscathed. Starting, he froze under Billy's hard-edged gaze. "P-please don't kill m-me," he whimpered, raising his arms in a gesture of surrender.
"What's your name?"
"Steve Haines, sir! I-I'm a security guard here at this facility."
"Alright, Steve. Where is 'here' exactly? And how the hell do I find the exit?"
"S-Siberia, sir! The exit's the way me and my team came from, but you need a key card to get the door leading to the upper floor open."
"Do you have a key card, Steve?"
"Y-yes, I do. I can get it out for you if you like."
"…alright. Slowly."
Haines slowly pulled a key card from a pocket on his combat vest. Tossing it at Billy's feet, he raised his arms again. "Okay, that's your ticket out. What are you going to do to me?"
Billy smiled at him, an unnerving sight. "Think about it, Steve. I run out of here with your key card and leave you here unharmed for your superiors to find. Now, they put two and two together and figure that you helped me some way, somehow. Who do you think they'll blame, huh?"
"Uh…me, sir."
"Exactly. Now since you did me a good turn, I'll do you one too to make sure that you don't get fired or demoted or, god forbid, killed 'cause you gave me my ticket out."
"Uh, very kind of you, sir."
"I'm gonna shoot you in the leg, 'kay?"
"What!?"
"Calm down, calm down. You'll heal up, and you get a plausible excuse about how I got my hands on the key card. Now, hold still-"
"Wait-"
"On the count of three, 1...2..."
BOOM
With a shriek Haines fell to the floor, clutching his leg and screaming profanities that would make a Licker cringe. Billy casually strode by his writhing form. "Pleasure doin' business, Steve," he snarked as he passed him by.
Upper level, huh? Simple enough…
(****)
"All combat-ready personnel, this is Captain Ginovaef! We have a hostile making his way to the motor pool; do not let him escape! Be aware that the target is armed and extremely dangerous. I repeat, the target is armed and extremely dangerous-"
HUNK's blade cleanly slit through the last hostile's throat. The woman choked on her own blood as she collapsed to the ground but she was spared no further attention. Currently, the situation was at a manageable level. The security teams were mostly well-trained but not to the extent HUNK had been, and as a result it was easy enough to cut through their numbers.
If this was all Nikolai could field, then escape was within reach. He'd previously made contact with the helicopter pilot he'd hired in the event of a foul-up with this group and pickup had been arranged. All he needed to do was access the motor pool located on the upper level and make his way to the evac point some distance away. A key card was required to get through the doors leading to the motor pool though, but he could -
A loud groan caught HUNK's attention. One of his previous victims evidently was still alive, surrounded by a pool of his own brilliant crimson blood. Walking over to the man, he stabbed downwards and put him out of his misery. As HUNK straightened up, he noticed something in the man's grasp. Prying it from him, HUNK realised that it was a blood-stained key card.
Huh. What a coincidence. No time to ponder it though.
Taking the time to activate his Stealth Camo once more, HUNK snuck through the passageway to the terminal. Sliding the key card into the waiting slot, he checked his corners before moving once more.
There was no more personnel around. That….boded. HUNK wasn't exactly sure why but it boded.
The same way Raccoon City had.
(****)
"Oh, geeze-louise, what the fuck is goin' on down there?!"
Killbane was in a foul mood. Coen was still alive, he'd been freakin' shot in the leg by the prick, and his men were dying team by team. They were replaceable, sure, but it took time to get warm bodies into positions and recruiting for a clandestine bio-weapon producing organisation wasn't easy at the best of times….
Wait…that gave him an idea.
"Hey, you!" he barked at the security officer who flinched at the harsh tone. Killbane was known for abusing subordinates when enraged. "Yes, sir?"
"What's the status on those B.O.W.'s we got in storage?"
"The, uh, Licker and Hunter units, sir?"
"Yeah, them. They ready for their test run?"
"Um, Production says the control chips were implanted but they haven't been tested yet. For all we know they could reject them and turn on us-"
"Do I look like I give a fuck about that? Coen needs to die, and you either send the order or I put a bullet through that poor excuse of a skull, got it?"
"…I'm sending the order now, sir."
"Good enough for me. Let's see how Coen likes THIS, the fucker."
Killbane's radio went off as he turned to his control terminal. "Pryor," Nikolai's voice hissed into his ear, "what is the situation on your end?"
"Keep ya panties on, Ginovaef. I got a little surprise for our 'guests'."
"What the hell are you talking about, you idiot?"
"Simply put; I'm letting the B.O.W.'s out. Let's see what kinda hell Production can cook up eh?"
"It's against protocol to release any bio-weapons, especially untested ones! Stop these madness before you expose us needlessly! Coen and HUNK-"
"Will die here and now."
And with those parting words, Killbane cut the feed, grinning like a madman as he watched the B.O.W.'s emerged with shrieks and roars from their pods, ready to kill.
Oh, this was gonna be good.
(****)
There was a security room approximately three rooms away. Once the remaining security systems (alarms, cameras, etc.) were disabled, the motor-pool would be easier to access which in turn would mean escapes. The only known outside variables would be the remaining security personnel, but they would be dealt with accordingly.
So why the hell did HUNK feel like some unidentified intruder had strolled over his unmarked grave?
One hundred meters from his objective he froze.
Another hostile. One man; easy enough to deal with. Sliding into the shadows, he awaited this latest obstacle.
He didn't have to wait long.
Dressed in civilian clothing with long hair. Armed with M4 assault rifle and unidentified sidearm; most likely looted from dead personnel. Probable conclusion: liberated prisoner, a plant sent to lower his guard, or a just an enemy out of uniform.
No matter. He would die here and now.
(****)
Steve had been a man of his word; the keycard had worked like a charm. After making his way through the security doors, Billy had started searching for the security room. Assuming that there was one on the floor, he'd get access to the cameras which would be essential in finding the way out and plotting out the route of least resistance; the less enemy fire he had to deal with the better.
Something felt off about this place. You'd think that there'd be more security staff on a restricted level, but oddly Billy hadn't had a single encounter with anyone since he passed through the doors leading here.
'Come on, Billy. Just a little more and you're a free man.'
There…there was something. Something dangerous, and the instincts that had seen him through his life so far screamed 'dodge!'
As he lunged sideways a knife sprang out from the shadows, aimed for his neck. On reflex he tried to aim his rifle at his would-be-killer but whoever it was too quick, charging him before he could properly fix him in his sights. The attacker's shoulder charge pushed him back and forced the assault rifle out of his hands.
Great. Now he was weaponless.
The black-clad hostile tried using his knife again but Billy was ready this time. Catching his wrist before he could complete the blow, the former marine kicked him the chest and pushed him backwards. Not wanting to miss the opportunity, Billy then punched his briefly-stunned enemy and sent him sprawling. The resultant impact with the ground knocked a sub-machine gun from his holster which Billy scooped up immediately, aiming it at his prone adversary.
The figure stayed stock still for a brief moment and then vanished to Billy's shock. 'Stealth camo,' he thought darkly. He didn't have the luxury of thermal goggles at the moment, so he had to keep his wits about him.
"Come out, you sonavabitch!"
(****)
Unfortunate.
His adversary proved to be more skilled than HUNK had anticipated. He had been disarmed of his firearm though he still had his blades and stealth camouflage ready. The real question was if he could stab the enemy or otherwise incapacitate him without getting shot himself.
The soldier was wary and training the TMP everywhere, his movements precise and controlled. Grudgingly, HUNK approved of this. He would have gone far with the right tutelage in Umbrella.
Ah well. A thought for another day.
The discarded M4 was lying on the ground near the soldier. If he could get it and draw quicker than his opponent, then victory would be assured. A distraction was needed to ensure that success. Drawing one of his blades, HUNK threw it in the opposite direction. The resultant noise drew the soldier's attention, which was all the opportunity he needed.
Rushing to the fallen rifle, he scooped it up and aimed. Cursing under his breath, HUNK realised that the soldier was levelling the TMP at him too. The distraction didn't pay off like he'd hoped.
Two fingers. Two triggers.
A stand-off.
And that was the moment the B.O.W.'s showed up.
