A/N: Well, I guess there's no real excuse for this. By "this", I mean not writing anything for about two weeks or something. Since there's no excuse, I'll just go with the truth. I forgot. I totally forgot about this story. I mean, hey, university started back up, I've been reading textbooks and not much else, and now the faculty is on strike. So I have plenty of time to start writing this again.

If anybody from before who favorited this story still errm... exists, thank ChioneTheMetroid for putting this in his/her story alert, which subsequently sent me an email/reminder about it.

The man in black watched those around him with eyes narrowed in disbelief

The man in black's face never changed as he pored over the documents in front of him. His eyes were hidden by mirrored sunglasses that matched the rest of his outfit. He sat at a desk bare except for the sheaf of papers on top. The dark wood was a contrast to the rest of the room. Sterile white was spread liberally across the four walls, the roof, and even the floor. Fluorescents mounted in ceiling brackets gave the only illumination, and much of the only sound, as they gave off an electric hum.

The room would have been very plain if not for the four men it contained, and the desk. One sat at the desk. Two others flanked him, clad also in black suits but with white shirts and no sunglasses. They towered over both men, standing at least six and a half feet tall. Both had blue eyes like chipped ice, and had their hair cut short. The suits they wore were cut slightly wider than need be. This was to cover the angular outlines of the semi automatic pistols held in shoulder holsters under their jackets. Both men stared straight ahead, almost as if they saw nothing but the wall in front of them. Only a fool would have taken their cool indifference as anything other than alertness. Those eyes never seemed to move, but the last man in the room knew they caught everything.

Frank Deloitte was almost invisible in the room. His white coat and clothes nearly caused him to disappear into the background. If not for his black shoes, one might think they would have been speaking to a floating head. Frank's eyes were a shade of brown so light one might call them hazel. He kept his hair cut short, a memento of past days, and did not care that it was beginning to be shot through with grey. His angular face also sported glasses, though neither lens was mirrored, or even black.

At first glance, Frank could be taken as a hard man. He kept himself in decent enough shape, and the snug way his clothes fit was a testament to that. He carried himself in a way that suggested he knew how to handle himself, and didn't care whether or not people took notice of it. The reality was that Frank lifted weights three times a week. The reality was that he was a black belt in both karate and kickboxing. The reality was that none of it would help him now.

The man in black was just finishing a sentence as Frank ceased looking for escape routes. There were none; he knew that from previous trips to this room. Thinking hard, he had to fumble for a response before finding the correct one. "What? Er, yes, we are finding that the test subjects are increasingly hard to domesticate."

"I see." The man in black fell silent, leaning back in his chair and putting a thoughtful hand to his chin to stroke the beginnings of a beard. "You need to work faster. I've never missed a deadline before in my life. Now will not be the first time."

No threats had been spoken, but all the same, Frank felt the pressure to succeed as acutely as if the man had put a gun to his head. "Sir, we're going as fast as we can. The subjects take time to grow and condition, even to the point where we can contain them. If we were to have better test samples…"

The man in black started visibly. "Of course, why not?" He muttered to himself for a moment before picking one of the documents out of the spread before him. "You are to use test group '13A'. There had better be more favourable results with these more… intelligent subjects, yes? Or I may decide to use your families as –" He was cut off as Frank exploded into action, clearing the ten feet of space between himself and the desk in three leaping strides. The man in black very nearly went for the gun in one of the drawers of the desk before he remembered there was no need.

Almost without seeming to move, the two men flanking him were in front of him. Frank was on the ground before he could do more than reach for the man's throat, one man pinning him with a knee in his face, the other covering him with a handgun.

The man in black looked almost pleased. "I forgot, you don't take well to threats against your family. Most people here would sell me their youngest daughters with a smile on their face and a free gift of their wives if they thought it would release them from the facility."

Frank struggled futilely against the man on top of him. "If you so much as even touch them, I'll –" He gasped as the man pinning him gave his arm a tug that nearly pulled it from its socket.

"Beat him," said the man in black, with as much emotion in his voice as a block of steel. As one of his bodyguards began pistol whipping the scientist into unconsciousness, he wondered what possessed some of his other… employees… to care about their own lives so much as to give up that of their family's. He would do whatever it took to protect his own family. As the sound of polymer meeting flesh and the pained grunts behind faded into silence, a smile broke out on the man's face. Whatever it took.

Leon very nearly passed out in exhaustion on the way back to Mount Forest. Madison drove at a much more sedate pace than they had set to get to Umber. The danger was over, for now. Leon sighed and sank deeper into the seat of the red Ferrari, head leaning against the window. His eyes closed as his memory drifted back to minutes ago.

"We're here on orders from the President."

Leon nearly fell back down with relief. "Who are you guys?"

"We're with the United States Biological Hazard Disposal Operations. Orders came down from Eagle One himself."

"Do you guys know what you're dealing with in here?"

The woman gave him a blank stare he felt even through her mask. "'Course. Otherwise we wouldn't be here." Men in teams of five were filing into the hospital and disappearing down the hallways. Sporadic gunfire sometimes broke out, only to be silenced a few moments later. A burst of static came through on the woman's earpiece, loud enough for Leon to hear, but the rest was inaudible. After a second, she raised her hand to her throat and muttered something else Leon couldn't hear.

"What's going on?"

"Nothin' for to you to worry about. We have standin' orders to get you clear of the building before we secure it and make ready to demo up." The red glare of the emergency lights blinked, plunging the hospital into darkness for only a moment before the white fluorescents flashed back on. "Power's back. Good news."

Leon nodded. "I'll let you carry out your orders then." He reached down and gathered the unconscious form of the reporter to him. He almost hated to carry her out of there, but it had to be done. "And ma'am…" Leon hesitated a moment. "Make sure my deputy doesn't… come back. He was a good man, and he wouldn't want that. I know I don't."

The woman in black gave him a nod, and escorted him from the building.

What Leon saw in the parking lot surprised him. There were perhaps a dozen black vans parked in the lot, some with people in them. Most were empty. One or two were stuffed full of ammunition and assorted small arms. The woman in black led them to one containing what looked to be a miniature hospital. Smelling salts were produced, seemingly from nowhere, and Madison was brought around. As soon as she could open her eyes, she looked ready to scream again, but the raised fist of the woman in black quieted her.

"We're leaving," said Leon, dragging her to her car.

At some point, Madison had recovered well enough to begin nattering away at Leon, pestering him for control of her car. After a moment, Leon gave in, and they pulled over to switch places.

"I could ticket you for this," he said, as Madison pushed the speedometer past 120.

"Like I care," she replied with a devilish grin.

Leon realized he didn't care enough at the moment to do much of anything other than try not to fall asleep. Nothing short of witnessing a road side bombing or genocide was going to get him on his feet again.

The drive back to Mount Forest was uneventful. At some point, Leon lost the battle with exhaustion and fell into a deep sleep. He did not dream.

"Wake up. We're home."

Leon raised his head and peered out the window. The sun was low in the western sky. "What happened to the day?" He grumbled, rubbing at his eyes.

"I had some… errands to run," Madison replied. "You looked so peaceful sleeping that I just left you in the passenger seat and took care of business."

"What business was that?"

"Oh, you know. Reporter stuff." She smiled coyly at him.

"Next time, wake me up. Sleeping in a car is not the most comfortable experience I've ever had."

"I'd bet."

Muttering to himself about the problems with women, he opened the door and got out. The Mount Forest Sheriff's department was across the street. He stretched, and began walking towards the building, whistling softly to himself. Maybe it was because he was tired. Maybe it was because his brain didn't want to accept that anything else could go wrong on this day. Maybe it was because his mind kept replaying those last few seconds of Mike's life –

Shrug, and a grin. Maybe he was finding some humour in the absurdity of all. Maybe he was laughing at the irony of surviving dozens of amphibious monsters to be killed by his own species. Maybe he was –

It was probably due to a combination of all of those things together that he didn't notice right away. Halfway across the street, he saw the door to the building standing crazily open, swinging in the breeze, little bells that had been Chelsea's touch lying on the floor. Pretending that he had forgotten something, he spun around and walked casually back to Madison's car.

"Forget something?" she asked.

"Do you keep a gun in the car?"

She gave him a blank stare for a full three seconds.

"I thought not. Do you have any uhh… mace, or something?"

She reached over and pulled open the glove box, rummaged around then extracted a tube about as long as her hand was wide. She handed it to him without a word.

"You should probably get going now. Go home. Lock your thousand locks and hide. Don't talk to anybody. The best thing you can do is forget you ever saw this. And by the way…" she stopped giving him the nod that people reserve for those times when they want to seem like, 'I'm listening to everything you're saying in a thoughtful manner.'

If you ever print any of what you saw today, I'll probably be ordered to leave you in a ditch somewhere." Without waiting to hear her spluttered replies about threats of violence and freedom of information, he turned back and crossed the street, canister of mace or pepper spray or whatever it was in his back pocket.

The front desk was deserted. Chelsea was nowhere in sight, and there was no sign of noise in the Trench. The lights were all on, and several computers were running. Leon stood at the door to the Trench, guessing how high the chance of being shot was if he bolted for the other side of the room – the armoury. He figured it was pretty high. Leon slunk low into the room, slapping at the light switch on the wall as he went, and wondering whether or not it was a blessing or a curse that all the shades were drawn.

He settled on a blessing.

With the shades drawn, it was dark enough for him to move without being seen,

unless somebody happened to have a pair of night vision goggles. He felt his way around the Trench, avoiding the cubicles lit by computer monitors, until he hit the door to his office. Very slowly, he eased it open and slithered inside.

His office looked no different from when he had left it. Standing, he felt around in the dark for the keys to the armoury before tripping over something soft on the ground. Part of him already knew what it was, but he activated his belt light and winced at the sight before him. Chelsea lay at his feet, barely recognizable. Blood matted her hair, and Leon didn't have to check for a pulse to know that she was dead.

He did anyway.

He knelt next to her, and gathered her in his arms, before placing a brotherly kiss on her bloody forehead. "I'm sorry." He sat that way for a long time, holding his dead receptionist in his arms. He sat, wondering how many people in his life were going to die because he couldn't protect them. He sat, and wondered.

Leon was drawn out of his reverie by noise from the Trench. There was noise out there, and that meant something was going to die a bloody death. He laid down Chelsea's body and clicked off his belt light. The room suddenly seemed alien in the darkness. His night vision was shot, and he crouched while he waited for it to come back.

Leon knew that it takes the average person about thirty minutes to fully adjust to darkness. He also knew he wasn't going to give whoever was out there even a tenth of that time to live. His hand went for the handle of his knife, and found reassurance in its weight. He waited for the door to his office to open.

Something that sounded remarkably like the bolt catch on one of the Sheriff's department AR-15's being released made Leon drop, and not a moment too son. The sharp explosions that Leon recognized as rifle fire came like precursors to a storm, as glass shattered and rained down around him while bullets perforated the wall.

"Here it comes, motherfucker!"

Leon recognized that voice. He waited for the automatic fire to stop. "Nolan! Cease fire! It's me, Leon!"

"Bullshit!" Came the reply.

Leon ducked his head again as the sound of an empty magazine hitting the floor faded away. As the automatic fire started again, he started laughing, short bursts of giggles that just wouldn't stop. The irony of it all was scathing in its clarity. He was sure that somewhere above him, whatever gods existed were getting a real kick out of trying to kill him with one of the people he wanted to protect.

He was still laughing when the world exploded.

A/N: Haha, game over, bad end, rite? Wrong. I just wrote this chaper real quick as a kind of "get back into the mindset" type thing. No, the story is not over, and no, I'm not done. If anybody cares. I should hopefully be adding another chapter or two to this soon. And I actually mean it this time.