Their Last Escape

by antihero276

Former S.T.A.R.S. Officer Jill Valentine unexpectedly meets U.S.S. Special Agent HUNK at the R.P.D., his extraction overridden. Pushed to their limits, they are forced to work together to survive. With only days to escape the T-Virus infested Raccoon City before it is destroyed, they are stalked inexorably from the shadows by a deadly Pursuer, intent on carrying out its mission.

17. Chapter 16: Departure

evolution-500: The one who came up with his codename did so wisely. He's a HUNK, in his own sort of way, not that he is making any conscious attempt to be. Glad this story has you on edge. Much appreciated ;).

Akira-Hayama: HUNK indeed is well known of as Umbrella's best operative, not that it gives him much power by himself within the company, but legends and stories grow and spread. All the missions he's carried out to this point. Civilians and women outside his field in general confuse HUNK. He doesn't want to deal with drama or emotions and such social things. But this particularly persistent civilian will gradually wear him down a bit. I'm sure Boba Fett is one of the many inspirations that went into the character when I was putting him together, there's some Clint Eastwoodesque personality in there somewhere lol. And yes, I intend to emphasize his company relationships/friendships along the way. Other Umbrella characters. He had a life before Raccoon City, such as it is, this is a detour/vacation away from it in a manner of speaking. A hellish vacation, but still one mostly free of Umbrella, which is what he needs, contact with the outside world. I did indeed want Captain Mikhail to have more impact on the characters including HUNK, instead of just being forgotten about after his death. To have some effect on the plot. Thanks again.

macario1214: HUNK will never get his due as a character in the games, fleshed out by Capcom, I've made my peace with that. You are right about the other characters though lol. And at least this story will exist to show some of HUNK's potential, tap into it. Better something than nothing.

Arkham Knight: Good eye. The Boss was indeed one of my inspirations for the character of 'War'. She will not physically appear in this story in the present, but more information about her will be delved into. The important thing about her to this story is the impact she's had on HUNK psychologically and their connection in the past. She's possibly the most vital outside component/character to his own character, to understanding him and why he is what he is. What she made him. And is an important character in the universe, within Umbrella. I'll get to her eventually.

Triclopes: It's entirely possible I made that reference on purpose, I just can't remember lol much of this material was written years ago, can't recall everything, but it is a good line. Also, HUNK was not unconscious/unfed/without water for 8 days. He had been underground since September 20th, in the vast underground and NEST facility and sewers. It took a couple days to reach NEST and breach/access its security defenses with his team. The rest of the time he has been fighting and moving slowly place to place underground, trying to recover a sample of the G-Virus after mutated Birkin killed his men. So he has been drinking fresh water in his possession or that he scavenged, and eating military rations over that time, finding secure places to do so, and nap briefly. He's a hardcore survivalist, not a robot without limitations. He's not in the best condition certainly, but not impossibly so. He is simply very disciplined and can handle more than most, though the wear and tear will start slowing and beating him down over the course of this story. He's the best, but even the best isn't invincible, of course. To the point where he wakes up, he was fleeing Birkin after getting the G-Virus sample, made it to the sewer treatment plant and closed and sealed the massive door on Birkin, locking him out, then he blacked out against the sewer wall. He was out for an hour tops, then woke up at the start of this story and kept going. I'll probably clarify if better soon, but that was my intent. In the original 4th Survivor he was somehow face down, blacked out in sewer water for over a week and was alright when he got up, not suffocated or dehydrated. Probably because the story didn't matter as much as the minigame its self. I decided to take that intro and combine it with the Umbrella Chronicles and 2 Remake one that shows he was kicking ass for days straights before coming back into contact with NIGHTHAWK, having it play out more feasibly.

LuckyNumber1: I can't answer the majority of those questions without spoiling the story ;). You'll just have to stick with it, we'll get there, all your questions will be answered by the end. I can say the new rookie girl on HUNK's comm channel later will not be the same woman Leon later talks to. Hunnigan I think you are thinking of, she's with the government, not Umbrella. And HUNK isn't a mercenary, but an employee of Umbrella, part of why he looks down on mercenaries. He isn't in it for the money.

The survivors will not meet up with Leon, Claire, Sherry, Ada, because they will have their own separate canonical story happening elsewhere in Raccoon City, in the form of Resident Evil 2. I wanted to be as faithful as I could. I was tempted for Jill and HUNK to take Sherry with them at the police station for the events of Resident Evil 3, but that would mean screwing over the canon of a number of great characters in a damn good story, no Claire being the one fighting through NEST to cure and save Sherry. Couldn't rob vital canon from main characters. HUNK works in part being transferred over to Resident Evil 3 because he barely factored into Resident Evil 2 anyways, at least the main plot. I use the canon as much as I can and add things where I think they help and work, add to the story, while also trying to maintain continuity. It's quite a tight rope, because there are some changes I make for story purposes, but I generally steer away from changing the core of important events. Usually just have them play out a bit differently or be expanded upon.

I also have Jill and HUNK listed together as a pairing in the story description, so clearly something of a romantic nature is going to transpire between them. Just a matter of the form it takes, when and where. I prefer a slow burn, earned romance for story and character realism, not just thrown together, especially considering the situation they are in, and their characters, all the factors to take into account for. I won't elaborate further here, stick with the story and you'll see how it pans out. With the story complete, having considered it for a long time, I can say there is no other feasible way it could have panned out. Will pan out, when we get there. Thanks for the review, and I'm pleased this story has you as excited and curious as it does.

xxSnowixx: Thank you kindly, glad you understand what I'm getting at with HUNK gradually. Takes awhile to unthaw a glacier, and even by the end of the story he won't be entirely thawed. He has way too much baggage and history and a complicated life at Umbrella, in it very deep. Has done evil and has had evil done to him. But it takes someone from the outside, a victim and enemy of the company, Jill, to chisel away at him steadily. And his bad experiences in Raccoon City, how long he's been there and fighting taking a toll on him, breaking him down, his most grueling mission. Even Carlos will have an effect on him, and the Captain. As much as I'd like to I can't spoil how and when his and Jill's relationship is going to play out, you'll just have to stick with me ;). It's going to be a struggle for him, reconciling his life at Umbrella and what he's gradually learning from Jill, what is growing between them. Past vs Future, ice vs warmth, machine vs man. Conflict within. Becoming more self aware and thinking back to what he's done, you'll get more insight into him gradually, regain some of what he has lost, what has been taken from him or he gave away. I definitely wanted to give Mikhail more of a presence and purpose than the original or remake, show that his life mattered and won't be forgotten when he's gone. An impact on those he leaves behind. People's lives having meaning.

Thank you all for the reviews, as ever. I recently found out Leon Kennedy's original voice actor, Paul Haddad, sadly passed away not long ago, may he rest in peace. Though Leon was never my favorite of the characters (#TeamClaire of the RE 2 Protagonists and HUNK/Tofu of course) he grew on me playing the remake and I came to respect him, I need to get around to playing the original.

On that sad note, on with our heroes and their grueling journey, and sadly it's time we said another bitter farewell to one of them:

---

September 28th, 1998, 10:15 PM

Forward Tram Carriage, Central Street Station, Downtown, Raccoon City

The moment Jill closed the door to the rear carriage behind her, she turned on the spot, taking in the details of the cluttered train car and it different sections on each of the seats. Nothing had changed, not that she had expected it to, they hadn't been gone long... but the front carriage was a welcome sight to be back in... it felt as safe as it had been before. Her eyes caught the medical station from the corner of her eye, and all the supplies, including the new red and blue herb pots. She started to limp over to the seat to sit down, but paused when she caught sight of Carlos watching her from down on the other end of the train as he placed objects, supplies inside of a big bulky backpack.

Her eyes rose up from the seat and studied him... he had looked up at her the instant she had closed the door. As soon as their eyes met, he managed a clearly forced smile and nod, before hastily looking back down at his work and pretending he had never looked at her. The sounds of his rummaging were the only ones on this particular train car... and Jill watched him quietly for a few moments, reminded of another task she was yet to see through, in regards to Carlos and his fellow U.B.C.S. mercenaries. Now was as good a time as any... and her wounds, while painful were not entirely pressing. The examination could wait... this could not, in her mind. Lips thinning, expression growing graver, she slowly limped down the aisle of the train, passing the medical, ammunition and weapon stations on the way, as well as the former map area, and reaching, gradually, the equipment area Carlos resided in. Again he looked up from what he was doing for a moment, his accented voice breaking the silence between them first.

"Something you needed, Supercop? Did you want to cuff me to a railing, make sure I don't bolt again? Or does your gas masked partner back there need some help after all?"

"He's not my partner, Carlos.", Jill replied quietly, Chris's smiling face flashing to her mind. Not that it did anything to replace the masked man from her troubled thoughts. "It's not like that."

"Oh? Could have fooled me, the way you two run around together out there like Mulder and Scully.", Carlos smirked to himself rather skeptically, raising an eyebrow down her way. "All that heavy eye contact and hushed whispering. What is he to you, then?"

Jill started to speak... something about the question bringing a warmth to her face and neck, hoping he didn't see it... but found the words wouldn't come. That she couldn't answer. As much as she wished to. To be able to answer for herself more than for him. She couldn't answer because she genuinely didn't know. There was something there... and whatever it was intrigued and frightened her. Like the man himself did. It wasn't like how it was with Chris at all. The two men were worlds apart to her. With her silence, Carlos took up the reins for her.

"I'll tell you what I think about it, if you want."

"I don't. But I somehow get the feeling you're going to tell me anyways, Corporal."

"See? You know me so well already."

Carlos laughed at that. Then he began to speak steadily. Not holding back, and she listened to him carefully.

"Look... I'll give it to you straight, because I think you're alright. He might be the ultimate badass and everything, I understand setting differences aside and working together, and there ain't nobody I'd prefer calling the shots in a war zone... but he's bad fucking news, Supercop. The world he's in with the company, how deep he's in it. And your cop instincts must be telling you that too, otherwise I dunno how you ever got on the force. Have any idea how much blood is on his hands? Even I don't. You get tangled up with him, attached, it ain't gonna end well. You'd be an idiot to think it will. For any of us, with our luck lately. All that matters to him is his mission, at the end of the day, whatever the hell that is. But hey, if courting Death is your thing, to each their own. A lot of fine young ladies like bad boys. As yours truly can attest. But just remember... there are bad boys...and then there's HUNK. You didn't strike me as a girl with a Death wish."

He winked at her knowingly, but she ignored the playful jibe. Despite his words, there was nothing mocking or unkind to his voice... it didn't anger her... he was simply telling her the way he saw it... though it troubled her deeply all the same. The temptation came again to ask the Corporal what he was talking about... the stories at Umbrella about the U.S.S. Agent. Why they kept calling him Death... besides the obvious reason. She felt morbid curiosity and trepidation, in conflict. Wanting to know more about the man... things he wouldn't tell her... while fearing what they were. Along with the knowledge of his mission, it wouldn't help make anything easier. Instead she held her tongue in spite of temptation. She hadn't come down here to ask about such things... to indulge in idle gossip. However much she wanted to. Instead she forced herself back to the reason she had come down to talk to him.

"I see. That's not what I'm here for, Carlos. And now isn't the time to be sowing doubts. We just need to survive... and that's what he's helping us do."

"Fair enough, Supercop, can't argue with that. I'm not here to lecture. I ain't a priest or an especially good Catholic. I've said my piece. It is what it is, and outta my hands."

Carlos merely laughed and looked back down at his work... did not look up at her as he spoke with amusement as she approached. He seemed distracted in his own little world again. And while an impulse came to not bother the young man... to withdraw and consider what he had spoken of... she forced herself to ignore it, and go about doing what needed to be done. As he put away a few cans of rations, Jill dug into one of the pockets on her shoulder straps and reached within, producing the trio of dog tags she had recovered belonging to each of the fallen mercenaries she had encountered outside. The tags jangled and clanked together as she extended them out towards him, and at last he stopped what he was doing, slowly studying the, before looking back up into her own eyes for a moment. Carlos's expression grew as grim and distant as her own, and he gently took them from her, and held them up close to his eyes under the light, silently reading and considering each of them. All thought of their recent exchange passing away like a cloud. His face falling a little more with each name.

W, Hudson, A08/TQ1.0.41776E3.

He'd known Private Hudson reasonably well... he'd been in Bravo Platoon, Delta squad under Sergeant... Carlos couldn't remember the Sergeant's name just now. He'd been serving as the unit's Combat Technician... he'd been full of amusing bravado, with a do or die attitude that either annoyed or made most people around him laugh. He'd gone missing not long after the operation started going south. The last time Carlos had seen him at the train station, after his sergeant had been killed in the initial incursion, he had been visibly starting to crack under the pressure of the situation, only barely holding on as the creatures came after them in the dozens.

It took Carlos a little while to remember exactly what had happened of him... ah yes, he'd been sent out to recover supplies during the initial barricading of the train station. The private had objected loudly, but had been cowed into submission by the stronger, harsher manner of Sergeant Zinoviev. He had gone, with fear in his eyes... that was the last thing Carlos had seen of him two days prior. He hadn't come back, and based on the fact he was holding the man's dog tags... he wouldn't be coming back at all. Although they hadn't been best friends exactly... Carlos mourned his loss already, having looked for him among the others out in the city to no avail in the days before. Carlos sighed quietly, and he moved on to the next tag.

B, Carmine, 83B186-22AO3-SF.

Although the realization of another dead compatriot was no less painful than the knowledge of Hudson's demise... he had to admit, he had not truly known Private Carmine. He'd been a recent recruit, a rookie, one of the most recent at that, before the operation... and had belonged to Charlie Squad of Bravo Platoon. For the most part, the young man, a Point Man for his squad, had kept to himself, and from what little Carlos had gathered, even the men in his squad hadn't learned much. Beyond the fact that he had been clearly silently troubled.

There had been no time before the operation for anyone really to get to know him... and in the chaos of the drop, he, among others, had gone missing. This was the first Carlos was seeing of him since the briefing they had all received. Carlos did not know what had happened to him out there... but he supposed it wasn't what mattered. He was gone... like so many others now, and the best Carlos could hope for was that he had taken plenty of them with him, before the end. It was of small comfort, for he had no clue how it had gone, how any of the hells each man had gone through had ended... he wasn't sure he wanted to know. Either way, he would pray for them all.

Finally, after studying the name for a time with regret, the wish he had befriended the man, Carlos's eyes moved on to the final dog tag. And in an instant his heart promptly and instantly fell down in his chest at the all too familiar name, a wave of pain slamming into him. It couldn't be... but it was, and he couldn't deny it.

Seeker, Murphy, 4414-16274-A-T7-44 USMC.

Oh god no... not him, too.

"Murphy... no..."

"I'm... so sorry, Carlos."

Jill's quiet voice murmured as he read the names... but otherwise, she went quiet, peering over at him sadly. Not knowing what else she could possibly say on the matter, and knowing how meaningless her words were. He had grown several shades paler reading the names, and was particularly frozen on the last one, unsurprisingly. She moved a gentle hand to his shoulder, trying to help steady him, unsure how much or how little it would help. It was all she could do. She couldn't just detach and ignore his pain as Hunk might be able to do. She wouldn't. It wasn't her.

"I remember you mentioned he was your friend. I was... too late."

Carlos did not look up at her, at least not right away... he didn't even blink as he studied the cold metal. Friend... even that felt like a hollow word that could not summarize it. The two, along with Tyrell, had met some time ago, had joined the U.B.C.S. around the same time, and had served in the same platoon ever since on several small missions, before this giant one. Those times had been great successes, and in the end, fun. In a time where few had been good to him, and he had been friendless, Murphy had been kind to him, had not judged him for his past actions... for his own past had been just as troubled. After what losing his brother to some gang member scum fucks had led him to do, seeking justice with his own two hands and rifle. Although an introverted young man, it had been the perfect balance for Carlos's extroverted one, and he had been able to draw Murphy out of his shell now and again. During their down time, in which they had trained together, on top of their initial training Umbrella had provided.

They had been open and honest with one another, had trusted each other when it had been the most difficult to trust anyone. During the pandemonium that was barricading the train station, Murphy had set up shop on the roof of Central Street Station, and had saved not only Carlos's life, but the lives of several others from the monsters with his unparalleled sniping talents. In act, he was willing to go so far as to say barricading the station would have been a failure if not for him. Him. Carlos remembered a creature, a rotted zombie popping up next to his shoulder as he shifted sandbags and set them up... only for the creature's head to explode. And glancing up towards the train, he'd exchanged thumbs up with the green balaclava clad sniper and his spotter, before he had got back to work covering the main entrance into the station.

He'd only taken water breaks now and again, drinking from his canteen, and would only come down upon the orders of Nikolai . Eventually, he'd run out of rounds for his sniper rifle, and was forced to exchange for an M4 with a scope... even then, with the disadvantages for sniping it had over his original rifle, he more than held his own... even when things went from bad to worse. In fact, probably the only reason he was sent out to look for supplies was because finally they managed to secure the station, otherwise he would have been kept right on that train roof. Even more amazing... Murphy had been visibly sick, paling steadily at the train station, and he had worked through the pain. The last time Carlos had seen him, he'd looked none too pleasant, but had denied medical assistance, and run off in quite a hurry to scout out Uptown. Wanting to look for more supplies and potentially some rounds for his sniper rifle. He'd been behaving oddly, towards the end... concerning Carlos greatly... but with so many of his own tasks to perform, it had been but one more minor problem on top of the greater heap. Maybe if he had done something differently... maybe he could have saved Murphy... could have helped him in some way... but he hadn't, and he couldn't... not now. He was one more person Carlos had failed since the start of it all... no matter how hard he tried. How hard he fought.

"I was... going to talk to HUNK, you know... about putting off our departure... looking for him some more. Before we left. Look for Murphy and Tyrell. I looked... almost everywhere already."

Carlos spoke up to her hollowly at last, finding it the most difficult thing he had done since his arrival in the damned city. His throat felt swollen and heated, as though a living snake coiled within it and the pit of his stomach... it burned... and he felt the impulse to weep openly. Only through sheer willpower and repression, or maybe just exhaustion, did he hold this instinct back to cry in front of her... but in return, every word cost him a bundle of effort. It didn't matter, he found, that most of him had already known the outcome of Murphy's status deep down. Part of him had accepted it already before this point, as soon as he had gone missing, and more and more each time he searched in a spot he believed the Private might have been, only to turn up nothing.

And then there had been Tyrell, who went missing not long before Murphy had. Both losses had been a blow... the only reason he had not succumb to despair on the matter was simple... there had been too damn much he needed to do still, he had barely been allowed to think. But here and now, with the train close to operational? Well, that was another story entirely. He couldn't look at Jill, even as he felt her sympathetic, comforting gaze, appreciating it... he could not make eye contact with her. It surprised him, after all this, that he was even capable of feeling the wish to cry, even after everything he had seen and done, and how exhausted he was. Gradually, he forced his voice calmer, or at least the illusion of calm... he wasn't sure how he managed it, but he did. Swallowing his grief and speaking with resolve.

"That won't be necessary, any longer. He's dead. Tyrell must be too by now as well, he's been gone too long, and I found no sign of him. It's time I started getting more realistic about all this. It's just us left on this train, now. It's fine... at least now I know we won't be abandoning them to those things."

"Carlos...", Jill began quietly, understanding all too well what he was going through, losing a close friend, and under none too dissimilar circumstances. "I know what you are going through... and I want you to know that you are not alone-

"No, really... I'm ok. I'll be ok. I'm glad to know the truth. It would have ate at me for the rest of this escape, not knowing. That's the worst thing of all, I think. They're probably in a better place. Anywhere is better than here."

Carlos interrupted her soothing, sympathetic tone quickly, holding up his free hand, taking a deep breath and forcing himself to both look at her, and to smile, through sheer effort. It was a painful smile, one that didn't belong, and one he shouldn't have bothered faking, both of them knew that. But he did it anyway... and Jill kept her hand gently on his shoulder. They stood that way for quite some time in silence, as Carlos gathered the rest of himself, or most of it, and in which Jill stood and waited patiently.

"Thank you, Jill... for all of these. For everything. I... already collected a few myself out there. I'll try to make sure... they all get where they belong. If they had families. When we get out of here. I'll be fine... really. I just... need some time. Need to keep busy, Supercop. Do my part. It's not over, yet."

"Of course...", Jill replied understandably, nodding slightly and reluctantly withdrawing her hand from his shoulder. She could not blame him, often, she too felt the desire to be alone with her grief, to try and figure things out... but she took comfort in the knowledge that she was not fully so... and she hoped very much that he did as well. Knew that he had someone to lean on, as she did. Relinquishing her hand she glanced back behind her to the medical station, and looking back ahead to Carlos, she began to step backwards towards it as she spoke. "If you need anything, I'll just be right over there getting patched up... ok?"

"Actually, there is one more thing, Jill... but something you'll need, not me."

Carlos spoke up quickly, putting up a hand to stop her, which she did, pausing in the aisle of the carriage. Slowly, after glancing at them one final time, Carlos tucked the trio of dog tags away into the pouch holding the others, and turned back to the equipment. To the white cylindrical case he had recovered on his last excursion, that was sitting next to the backpack he was filling up. He reached over to it, peering down at it, popped off the lock and opened it, revealing the smooth shiny contents glinting in the light of the train. He'd almost forgot about them, in the wake of what Jill had shown him... she had done him a favor, collecting the tags for him, granting him the knowledge of their demises... it was time for him to return the favor to her in the manner he knew best. Weaponry. A slight smirk formed at the sight of them, as it had when he had recovered them, and he waved her over, glancing between her and the case.

"Well, on the other hand... we'll both need them. Come here and take a look at these, please."

Jill obeyed the request at once, moving back over to his side slowly, casting a speculative glance at him, then peering down into the open case, pursing her lips... and her eyes widened a bit when she discovered what was within. Six sizable gleaming grenade shells, each in its own respective slot, shone back up at her... grenades of the 40 MM variety, like the one she had fired earlier. She grew a little numb with surprise peering down at them... explosives were so difficult to come by, and worth their weight in gold.. Yet, here some of them were... where and how Carlos had found them was beyond her, but she didn't particularly care about the details, compared to actually having the things. She wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. She extended her fingers and ran them over one of the cool surfaces of a shell, an instinctive gesture... and gradually her parted lips turned into a thin smile. She was distantly aware Carlos was watching her reaction with a broad grin that did not seem altogether forced, that he was genuinely pleased to see the effect his discovery had on her, and she listened distantly as he spoke up again, after giving her a few moments to study the shells.

"Well? What do you think? Not a bad haul for a grunt. Found some other supplies too, but grenades are where its at. Gonna look for more when we get to the clock tower. High explosive, napalm, acid rounds, cryo rounds... thankfully every squad was equipped with explosives. And Echo Team set up shop at the clock tower already."

"I think I almost feel sorry for those things out there."

Carlos uttered a laugh... the first one he had in what felt a long time, and for awhile he simply chuckled at the retort, savoring the warm mirth. Holding it close, to push back the despair and depression swimming around him seemingly at every side. Her own smile deepened, as his was, and the two of them simply enjoyed that moment. He'd had the feeling she'd be pleased, and wasn't disappointed. Extending his own gloved hand, he scooped up a trio of the shells from their respective slots, holding them in both hands, and extended them over to her, keeping his palms open. Jill's eyes moved between the three shells, and Carlos's own warm, encouraging eyes, and he nodded to her.

"Here. You get three, I get three. Only fair. I'd make it two each so we could include HUNK, but given his lack of a grenade launcher, there's no real point. Though I wouldn't put it past him not to be somehow carrying one somewhere... probably holding a whole armory in all those pouches."

"We should be so lucky.", Jill smirked a little at the thought, shaking her head, before gratefully taking the shells, examining them more closely for another moment. At last, she tucked two of them away into her belt, and held onto the third one, making her intent clear. She unslung the rifle on her shoulder and extended the under barrel forward, before sliding the fresh grenade round within, and with the cocking of metal, she pumped the grenade securely into place, arming it. She turned on the safety for the grenade launcher as a precaution, but remained examining the rifle as she spoke, grateful to have its most powerful weapon reactivated. "Thank you, Carlos... I already used mine. I was beginning to doubt I'd ever get my hands on another for awhile yet."

"Hey, no need to thank me, just glad they're in good hands. I still have mine, but honestly I was itching to use it. Three guesses why."

Carlos smiled, waving a hand dismissively, but not unkindly. It was no big deal, he certainly hadn't been planning on using all six... he had zero objections where sharing was concerned. Growing up in his village, sharing had become a necessity, whether it was food, fire, or water... and it was a lesson he carried over into his adulthood. He had no time for greed, or greedy people for that matter, in this situation everyone needed to pitch in and give something up of themselves for there to be any hope of success. Survival. Carlos took his own three shells and slid each of them into slots on his own belt, securing them into place, and when satisfied, looked back up at her and the rifle she was examining, another idea coming to mind.

"Grenades are fine and dandy, but how are you on ammunition? I don't see any spare magazines on your pouches."

"Empty.", Jill admitted with regret... but had no real wish to discuss why that was the case... how many rounds she had wasted on her Pursuer... still, it had felt good at the time. It had been a rush she wished she could always feel, to keep the terror at bay. She recognized that her fear was part of what was keeping her alive, keeping her from growing overconfident and cocky, and getting herself stupidly killed. There was a big difference between bravery and stupidity... but it was a fine line between the two, easy to overstep without even knowing it. Hopefully, that would never end up being the case for her. "I conserved what I had for as long as I could, but I ran into quite a bit of... opposition. I did my best, you know how it is, I'm sure."

"Trust me, I know too damn well. M4's are great, but you can burn right through the ammunition when you get surrounded. Has happened to me more than once since this all started."

Carlos agreed with her, and began to remedy her situation, reaching into one of his pockets and digging around for another thing he had recovered none too long ago. Grasping it in both hands, he pulled it out, the twin cylindrical shapes large enough to take up a great deal of space on his belt... and in truth, he was kind of glad to be parted with it. He preferred standard thirty round magazines, for although they were burned through quickly, they could be replaced with ease, and were simple to find compared to this other. He held the dark object up in both hands in front of her, smirk growing a little more.

"Fortunately, I happen to have quite a few rounds on me at the moment, and have no objections to parting with this particular piece... here you go. Put them to good use. Damn shame these particular magazines are hard to come by. Go on, take it. You trained with Delta Force, I doubt I need to explain what it is."

No, he really didn't. Jill took the object from him in one hand and examined it carefully... a pair of twin conjoined dark cylindrical shapes with a single cog rising up between them. How he had managed to get his hands on one was anyone's guess, but he was military... so it was far from impossible. She knew the design... had seen it before. A Beta C drum magazine, containing at least a hundred M4 rounds within the twin feed cylinders... as beautiful to see as the weapon its self. She looked up at him, eyes widening a little, and he made a little 'go on' gesture, that Jill responded to at once. Setting the drum magazine down on the seat in front of her, she rose the rifle, tilted it to the side and ejected the spent magazine, clattering to the floor, before taking up the drum magazine, positioning it into place, and popping it inside firmly. The weapon clicked as it locked into position... leaving her rifle well and fully armed at last. Holding the rifle close, she looked over to Carlos... and by now, in spite of everything, her turmoil within and the danger outside, nothing could possibly shake the pleased expression from her face.

"Thank you. Really. I'll put it all to good use.", Jill promised with a respectful nod, before at last lowering the rifle, activating the single shot function, as well as the safety and slinging it back on her shoulder. The added weight was well worth the trade off. Still holding the shoulder strap, she turned back to him, meeting his eyes again and speaking. "I won't waste any of them this time around."

"The thought never crossed my mind.", Carlos assured her, gradually turning his attention back to packing for their departure. He scooped up another couple bottles of water, some ammunition magazines and various other items and dropped them inside, or slid them into concealed pockets. He looked between his work, and the satisfied expression on Jill's face, then briefly lowered his glance to her wounded leg, and the other cuts and bruises along her form, particularly the nasty one on her forehead. He'd packed some medical supplies already in the backpack, a good amount of assorted herbs, but he was certain the medical station still had plenty for her to make use of. "Now, you better go take care of those wounds... you won't get a chance to use those rounds if you bleed out before then."

"Exactly my thoughts.", Jill agreed with a smile, turning on her heel and looking back down the aisle, to her next destination. She took a step forward, but glanced back slightly over her shoulder as she spoke. "Thanks again. You may have a loud mouth, Carlos, but you make up for it immensely."

"Between these good looks and weapon skills, I like to think so. Now if only you could perform a miracle and convince HUNK about that."

With another short laugh, Carlos got back to work, and Jill, chuckling herself as well, turned around fully, heading back down the aisle. With every step, rearmed as she was... she felt powerful, in a way hard to describe. She always did, when it came to weaponry... especially with explosives... and as she reached the medical section of the train carriage, it was more weaponry that took her attention, laying on the seats just opposite the medical supplies. She paused between the seats, slowly looking over towards it, turning on her heel. It had caught her eye already, back before she had set out for her parts of the train... and the situation of the weapon was no different from what it had been before. A SPAS-12 Shotgun... one of the finest the world had to offer, but it was no less empty, and another glance at the ammunition station close beside the weapons told her Carlos, despite his capable scavenging abilities, had still not been able to recover a single box of shells. It was a shame... a damn shame, and a waste, leaving the high powered weapon sitting there... the image of it had been following her for some time now.

As marvelous as the M4 was, it didn't have the stopping power of a shotgun round at close range... and when it came time to depart the train, they would be forced to leave it and some of the other weapons behind. It was... unacceptable, entirely so in her mind. No, she didn't have any shells, but that didn't mean they would never find any. She refused to leave it here, under any circumstances, she decided, reaching forward and scooping up the empty shotgun by its sling, then grasping it by the grip, turning it over and examining every groove of the dark metal. It was... welcome. She'd used them far more often than M4's, in her work for the city, before it had all gone to hell. It was another weapon she knew so well, that it was an extension of her. There were others on the S.T.A.R.S. who had used it better, but she was the furthest thing from an amateur. There had been no amateurs on her team, not even Brad or Rebecca... they had been the best at their role. As she took her time studying the weapon, Carlos's familiar, accented and satisfied tone spoke up as he worked on the further side down the aisle, not even looking up from his work.

"I knew it."

"Hmm?", Jill inquired a little distantly, glancing up at him for only a second before returning her gaze to the weapon appreciatively. "Knew what?"

"You're a shotgun toting badass Sarah Connor kind of woman. I saw you eyeing it earlier, and I can't say I blame you. I'd trade a lot of our other supplies just to get my hands on some more ammunition for it. That gun is top of the line. As it is... alas, good as I am, even I cannot create something from nothing."

"I'm taking it anyways. Maybe we'll find some shells at the clock tower.", Jill told him calmly, resolving herself to the action, speaking it aloud. She moved over to the medical station and sat down on the red, comfortable seat, leaning back into it and setting both the shotgun and rifle down beside her on either side, and breathing relaxedly. It felt damn good to be off her feet again... she made sure to savor every moment of it as she reached over to the medical box, opening it up and rummaging around inside to examine the supplies. She spotted another bottle of medical spray, setting it aside, and began to look for a roll of bandages. "The police officer in me won't let me waste a good thing. I'm sure as the heavy weapons man of your squad, you went through the exact same dilemma."

"You don't know the half of it... I had a .50 Caliber machine gun during the drop and chaos... held on to it for awhile, but I ran out of rounds defending this station.", Carlos told her from afar, raising his voice a bit so it would reach her as he worked. He shook his head a little sadly at the thought, missing it and the raw strength that came with it already. No matter how cumbersome it had been. Such was the curse of loving heavier duty weaponry. "It was so powerful, it literally sawed through those bastards, cut them to bits, no matter how many of them showed up. I have no damn clue where it went, I lost track of many things in the fray. I don't expect to see it again. Ah well... I can make do with what I have... and lugging it around was kind of a pain in the ass."

"A machine gun? Yeah... I can imagine. But it sounded like a worthy trade-off."

"My sentiments exactly."

A quiet resumed between them, but not an uncomfortable one, despite his words about Hunk before... in the wake of what else they'd exchanged, that weight seemed less so. It was a silence merely one based in necessity, with both parties having things to do before Hunk fixed the train and they got underway. Both of them had to be ready for the departure, and would need to work quickly, move quickly... as such, Jill continued her search for waterproof band aids, for her smaller cuts along her back and forehead. There was even a small mirror inside the assorted junk, which she used to examine said wound on her head... she had been uncertain whether or not it would require stitches... it was deep, certainty, but it wasn't even the first thing that drew in her attention, as she examined her pale, tired features in the mirror, her messy bangs. It was simply how haggard she looked after what she had gone through. She didn't like looking at herself like this... now of all times, so shaking her head she tilted up the mirror again to examine the wound. It was deep... quite deep, and probably did require stitches, but rummaging through the medical case, she was damned if she could find any stitches... here at least.

Maybe they would fare better looking elsewhere. No matter what, she knew she was probably going to have quite a scar. So she did the minimum, all she could do, spraying a little more of the medicinal liquid against the wound, which stung almost instantly, forcing her to refrain from uttering a hiss of pain. After accomplishing this, she took a long white strip, a band aid, before reaching over and retrieving a few small leaves from one of the collected green herbs and placing it over the wound, followed by the band aid to cover both the leaf and wound. It wasn't much, but it would help with the bleeding, a short term solution. Above all, she wished more than she ever did that Rebecca was here to tend to everything medical related... if she had been, Jill would have nothing to worry about from her injuries or Mikhail's. Being as she had no choice otherwise, she was forced to do it all herself, the next, far more painful task. Jill removed her boot and set it aside, to expose more of her leg, before her eyes lowered to the bloodstained sweater, the makeshift outer bandage secured tightly around it, and she reached down slowly, untying it gradually as carefully as she could, trying to ignore the burning sensation. At last, with a sigh, she untied the arms and opened the sweater, revealing the bandaged flesh of her leg beneath the sweater. She knew, painful as it was, that it probably looked a lot worse than it was beneath.

The bleeding had probably stopped by now. HUNK's military bandaging and work had been thorough, efficient... she doubted the gauze needed redressing yet... it would probably hold up until they got out of Raccoon City. She thought back to him huddled over her at the apartment, his gentle, reassuring touch... how safe and protected she had felt with him. A glimpse at the man hiding under all that armor. The man who had seemed to be the opposite of the one Carlos had described, with blood all over his hands. He had done an expert job, had known what he was doing. She could only imagine how long healing herself would have taken without him, if indeed she hadn't died without him. Her leg would probably need stitches when this was all done, but in the meantime what he had done would suffice. She could manage. Then again, First Aid Sprays were powerful... so it might not require stitching. If she was lucky.

Extending her leg, she began to wiggle her toes beneath the sock, ignoring the manageable pain. The pain gave some clarity, and reassurance... that in spite of it all she was still alive. That every moment mattered. Satisfied everything was, for the moment, alright, she lowered her foot back down to the ground, and leaned forward, scooping up her long brown combat boot and inserting her foot carefully in it again. The material of the boot stopping just below her right knee.

With a smile, in spite of the recurring sting the tightness of the bandage against the wound illicited, she finally leaned back in her seat and got reasonably comfortable, with the most pressing task seen to. All that remained was another spraying to the cuts of glass shards along her shoulders from the exploded bus window... each deep, but not as deep as the cut on her forehead, and wouldn't require any stitches. She was reminded of all the glass that had cut her back at the apartment, when the Pursuer had used its rocket launcher... she supposed she was fortunate it hadn't withdrew said launcher all over again during their last encounter. She supposed it didn't want to be predictable... or rather, it had been created to adapt, and not become predictable. She didn't know if it was even capable of wanting... not really. Could it think for its self? How far did its programming go? Was it independent, or controlled directly by Umbrella? She supposed, given Umbrella's policies... they would have given the thing the illusion of free will, so they could watch from afar as it accomplished their bidding, without having to poke out their heads.

It wasn't a robot... it was a walking biological weapon. But... there was a thin line between the two in regards to Tyrants. She wondered about the tendrils within it... the Tyrant at the Spencer Mansion hadn't had those. And moreover... she wondered about what those tendrils might have been attached to, burrowed away deep within the Tyrant. Jill took up the small mirror again, raising it over her head, and took the time to examine her back, noting that the cuts there were already healing up. Regardless of whether the same could not be said of her shoulders... but thankfully dealing with them was quite straight forward. She remained in her spot for a time, breathing and relaxing, readying herself.

She had just started to reach back into Rebecca's medical bag to retrieve the First Aid Spray, as well as the bandage strips from the medical box, when a loud sound came from just off to her right from where she sat. Heart skipping a beat, her eyes shot up to the door to find it sliding open, revealing the familiar dark armored figure and gas mask, its owner's muffled breaths slightly audible from her close proximity to him. He stepped inside the front carriage quietly, but did not close it behind him, and behind him laying close to the front cart she caught sight of Mikhail, still with his eyes closed. As bad as his state was, it didn't seem he had worsened. She wasn't the only one to look up from what she was doing the moment HUNK stepped inside, Carlos did the same with a curious smile. Before either he or Jill could address the agent, he spoke up first, his low tone carry through the front carriage as he stood in the aisle with each of his weapons holstered. Although he addressed them both, Jill had the feeling he was studying her and her wounds speculatively from the corner of his eye.

"The train is operational.", The Umbrella Agent announced to them. "We should depart imminently."

"Hey, way to go Secret Agent Man! I guess we can consider you both our resident James Bond and Macgyver after all, if it's all the same to you."

Carlos's amused voice responded, and from down on the other end of the aisle he snapped off another salute as he rummaged through his, by now, massive backpack. There was nothing mocking or even joking about the salute, he found... he genuinely meant it. Despite the drawbacks of having an Umbrella Agent people called Death around, Carlos had to admit, he came through in more ways than one, and pulled far more than his own weight around. Better that he was ostensibly on their side than not. Maybe things were finally looking up for all of them now. No, it wasn't enough to take away the pain of loss, of all his friends, that would always be... but for the first time since the drop, they were truly settled on a method of escape, this remaining group... they had the means, and were on the verge of making it so. Escape was nearly in sight, at long last. The agent did not respond to his praise, and another thought came to him then, in regards to their destination, and what might await them there.

"Sir, before we set off, I was just wondering, what about Echo Team?"

"Echo Team?"

"Right... Nikolai didn't mention them. They were sent in separate of our platoons, their own unit. Dispatched to the clock tower to hold it down awaiting evacuation of the civilians there. We couldn't get through to them over the radio... but they might still be there. Have the place fortified. What are you going to do about them?

"Just as I've done here. Assume command. Provided they are still alive.", Agent HUNK answered him coolly without hesitation. "They remain under contract with the company. Have failed their own mission, and fall under my authority now. My mission takes priority."

"Doubt even Captain Campbell is going to argue with that when he gets a look at you.", Carlos smirked tiredly, shaking his head as he resumed working. Hoping for the sight of the Captain's face glimpsing the U.S.S. Grim Reaper himself... provided he and his men hadn't already met with his namesake. He silently prayed they had made it... that there were more survivors, including civilians, but there was no telling what awaited at the clock tower. "I hate to hold things up, but I just need a little longer to finish packing, then we can ditch this Popsicle stand. Sound good?"

"Very well. Get a move on with it, Oliveira. We haven't unlimited time to spare. The longer we wait here, the more unnecessary risks we're taking."

"All too sad but very true.", Carlos agreed, winking over at Jill and flashing another grin, before turning back to his work all over again and waving a hand in his direction. "Don't worry about it, nearly there. This group needs a pack mule, and I'm as good as any to be that mule. Within reason, of course."

HUNK did not reply to him, so Carlos focused on his work solely... while Jill continued watching the agent with a faint smile, just as pleased at Carlos by the news he brought. By now, HUNK did turn, and meet her eyes, studying her more closely as she withdrew the packet of medical strips, and Rebecca's First Aid Spray, setting them both down next to her close by rifle. Neither one of them said anything for a moments. As she did this, she noted him reaching into one of his own pouches on his belt, and producing something... looking back up from the bottle. She watched as he extended them out towards her slightly... gloves... a pair of dark leather gloves, very much like his own, his palm open and offering them to her.

"Found these earlier. Forgot I had them. They'll prove useful."

Jill felt her smile deepen as she looked between the gloves and his reflective lenses, and she found a warmth of gratitude passing through her. Heart beating quicker, touched that he had thought of her this simple way. Wanted to spare her further injuries. In hindsight, she should have prepared better before leaving her own apartment and setting out as she had. If she could do things over, she would have worn her S.T.A.R.S. uniform... had the bastard Irons not confiscated it... and she should have found a decent pair of gloves. She reached over and took them from him gently, noting a fresh blood stain on his sleeve and glove that could not have belonged to him... among the other stains on his uniform. Taking the gloves, she slid them carefully into her own belt, for the moment at least, she needed to keep her hands free and unencumbered as she treated herself. She looked back up to him, speaking again smoothly.

"I don't doubt it... I have enough cuts and burns as it is. At least a little of my flesh will be safe. I'm considering looking for a suit of knight's armor, at the rate I'm going at. Thank you, Hunk. "

"Your gratitude is unnecessary. Just stop getting yourself injured."

"No promises. You sure know how to make a woman feel special, don't you? Who'd have thought it? Apart from me, of course."

"Don't press your luck, Valentine."

Jill laughed quietly at this deadpan comment of his to her slightly playful retort, but did not reply as she took up the spray bottle again, and began to lightly spray the small cuts, one after another. The sting was there, as ever, but she was good with managing pain, and compared to other wounds, they were nothing. One by one, she tended to each cut, applying some spray, and then covering it with a medical strip... a process that took her some time. Neither Jill nor Hunk spoke during the process, and while Jill had expected him to sit down, to take the seat opposite her... she was not entirely surprised when he merely remained standing tall, perhaps somewhat awkwardly, just past the doorway, in the aisle in front of her. He neither looked entirely at Carlos or herself, but somewhere in between... if he was even watching them at all. He could have withdrawn mentally from the situation and was thinking, planning... anything. It seemed almost to Jill, and this was an idea she had been putting together since she had met him,... that he was not familiar with being comfortable, with relaxing, or being at ease... at least certainly not in any war zone.

He had no tasks to perform now, other than waiting for them to hurry up, so he could get back into his role of leader. It all tied in to that slightly robotic quality about him... as though he could be a B.O.W. himself, and didn't fit in anywhere he went. Relentless in his objectives... not quite used to socializing. Yet, that wasn't entirely true... he had spoken to her a bit more freely, back at the sewer... and the apartment. In between the rare glimpses, he seemed far more guarded... it was almost as if at moments his guard slipped, and something... human, came out briefly... something inside him shut it back up and locked it down. It was... in a word... sad. No, he was not pathetic... she knew pathetic, had known it... and he was not that... but clearly for a man of his skills... it had taken its toll elsewhere within him, somewhere along the line. There had been some things he hadn't honed.

There was more to him, than his duty, but it was suppressed. Perhaps it was this climate, all the danger, and their mission, that brought it out in bursts. What he had already endured before they had met. Jill now fully believed that it was just a matter of drawing it out a little at a time. Being patient with him. She wondered if anyone ever had been... or if he was just a piece of equipment at Umbrella, to be rented out by whoever pulled on his strings there. Carlos's words about him came back, but she pushed him aside... she wasn't afraid of him just now, or intimidated... or even curious. She just wanted to help him. Try to put him at ease, somehow. So, as she gradually finished up tending to her wounds, she spoke again, addressed him quietly enough for him to hear, but for Carlos not to be able to.

"You had no troubles on the engine, then?", Jill spoke up calmly, attempting to strike up a brief talk. She had to admit, she wasn't always big on small talk herself... but she needed to gauge his responses and reactions a little more. And she genuinely did like talking to him, the few times they did in an atmosphere of relative peace. At these words, Hunk turned his head back in her direction, seemed to come back to life and watch her... and rather than speaking, he simply shook his head... so she went on further. "I didn't think you would. It seemed relatively straight forward... I've had more trouble with cars than anything else, believe me. When I was a teen, my father taught me some of the basics... a necessity. I guess that was one of my first of many lessons, to adapt to problems. I never forgot it."

Jill applied a bandage to another cut along her collar, sticking it into place as she peered up at Hunk kindly... but again, he did not speak. He looked like he wanted to say something, or maybe he was trying to say something, and could not. Either restricted by his own self control, or orders from Umbrella not to speak of himself much... it was ok, either way... he was listening, watching her, and that was enough for her to work with. She didn't want him to force himself to talk, he struck her as a man who didn't waste words, speaking only what he felt needed saying, or should be said... he chose every word, did not merely speak without any thought. It was an understandable trait, really. And fine with her, as long as he simply kept listening... she expected no answer, but hoped for one.

"Anyways, I was scared honestly, at first... that I'd screw up and make it worse... but it really wasn't as difficult as I had thought it would be. I don't think many things in the world are too difficult, you know. I think its more us holding ourselves back... either from fear, uncertainty... or because we're just too set in our ways to do something different. Just how people are, I think... not many adapted to this... outbreak. They weren't ready, because although they could imagine something like it in movies... they never did so in real life. Hell, I didn't until the mansion. They can't be blamed for that. I tried to help, I really did... to warn them... but all I can do is my best, and often even that is not enough to change a tide. There's only so much one person can do... but now and again... you'll find it can. I wish that had been the case here... when it needed to be most."

The Umbrella Agent said nothing when she paused. Didn't move, barely breathed. But she knew she had his undivided attention now. It was all the encouragement she needed to keep going.

"I guess that's all anyone can hope for, that they're one of the lucky few to make a difference in lives. Probably one of the many reasons I bothered trying to be a cop. I couldn't even do that right, really, as you can see. Serving and protecting was not enough... nobody listened... but you know what? I don't care. It will not change me, and who I am. I was a cop before the mansion, I was one during, and I still am one. Badge or not. One of the last left in this city, maybe the only one, for that matter. So I must have been doing something right. And you're all here with me. So, maybe I did make a small difference. Though, I certainly did at least become a slight pain in the ass for the mighty Umbrella, clearly. I liked that. I'm glad they despise me... almost glad they sent that Tyrant after me. If only because it means they are afraid of me, if nothing else. Afraid of all of us who know the truth."

"Yes. They are. They would never have taken the drastic steps that they have against a more common threat."

Jill's smile deepened a little at his sudden response, pleased by it, to draw the opinion from him, and that he agreed with her. His word on that regard held more merit than her own... she may have fought Umbrella, but he worked with them. He knew best how they operated, from an inside view of things. Probably deeply a part of their world, as Carlos had told her. Despite his loyalty to them, he seemed a realistic man, who understood when the company had fucked up with all this. He was not a mouthpiece of theirs, even as he served their deadly pursuits.

"Thanks... I think. But if not our Pursuer, what would they have done instead, then?"

"Instead of a Tyrant, they would have sent me. Or agents like me."

"I can't claim to know Umbrella Security Service well before we met... but somehow I doubt the other agents are like you, Hunk."

He said nothing to that. Merely studied her again in silence. It was enough of a reaction for her.

"In any case, I'm glad they didn't send you after me. For more reasons than one."

Jill admitted honestly, with a slight laugh at the thought, the idea of them fighting, be it hand to hand or in a gun fight. She had accomplished things few had, but having seen him in combat, she could not honestly say she'd ever want to be on his particular bad side. She knew she wouldn't stand a chance... all the more reason she was glad he continued to be on their side. She finally finished cleaning up and covering the last cut, one on her shoulder blade, and she put the packet of bandage strips back into the medical box, as well as Rebecca's spray bottle, before closing it back up instead of transferring it back into Rebecca's bag. When they departed and reached the clock tower, she could carry out the entire medical box. They would need to strip the train of all its supplies, there was no telling what awaited them there. They couldn't afford to waste anything. With a satisfied breath, she closed Rebecca's white bag as well, leaned back in her seat, and spoke up again.

"I probably wouldn't still be alive. You are a far more inventive and intelligent than our Pursuer could ever hope to be. And I prefer things as they are now between us, rather than that unpleasant alternative."

"As do I, Valentine."

At the unexpected confession from the usually distant man, Jill's head snapped up again his way. Startled. Before either of them could address it, break the sudden, strange silence, someone else did. Shattering the moment with it.

"Alright! I'm all done! You two can quit the pillow talk any day now!", Carlos called unashamedly, interrupted them, from down the aisle, causing both Jill and Hunk's heads to snap over in his direction, to find that familiar grin flashing back from afar. Jill merely smirked and shook her head at the comment, but Hunk didn't seem to react much beyond staring silently at the young man. Carlos was zipping up the backpack, but left it where it was on its seat, stepping back into the aisle, moving backwards towards the main cockpit of the front carriage. Rolling his eyes a bit at the sight of them. "I mean seriously, we still have a mission don't we? As you're so fond of reminding me. I called dibs on driving, so let's get the hell out of here, before we end up a zombie dinner!"

"Infected."

"Man, whatever."

With that, he turned on one heel and ran down to the front end of the train, taking the main seat in front of the operating panel, and starting to examine the area in front of himself. Jill looked away from him at this and up towards Hunk, and after a moment the agent, without saying another word to her, moved away from her, stepping back down the aisle towards Carlos and making his way to the front of the train as well. Rising steadily to her feet and taking a step, Jill found herself capable of navigating rather successfully, but peering down at the medical station, among the other items there, her eyes went to her sweater, stained with dry blood. In truth, she would probably not be able to get all the stains out when she got out of Raccoon City... but it was hers, and the world had taken enough from her as it were. Besides, it could help even further, add an extra protective layer over her bandages, or she could wear it if things got any colder.

So, she lifted the sweater and tied it around her leg as Hunk had done early, securing it properly and tightening it, ignoring the burn that caused. Next, she turned her eyes over to her assault rifle, and scooped it up by the sling, slinging it back over her shoulders, before following after Hunk down the aisle to the front of the train. It wasn't difficult, walking... the bandages conformed well but gave her enough movement, did not restrict her very much... whoever had come up with the things was a genius in every sense of the word. Hunk already had reached the cockpit, and was standing directly behind Carlos's seat silently as the young man rummaged around, seemingly looking for something... under the dash, as opposed to the operating panel that was almost directly in front of him. When Jill herself reached the cockpit of the tram, she moved to Hunk's side, one hand instinctively holding her shoulder strap as she watched the young man searching around for a few moments. She broke the quiet first, raising an inquisitive eyebrow with confusion... he had been so set on operating the train personally, what was holding him up?

"Is something the matter, Carlos?", Jill asked curiously, causing him to glance up at both Hunk and her, before continuing his search. She gestured to the control panel, with its operating lever in front of him, as she spoke. "The panel is right there, it'll fire up the train. It doesn't look very complicated."

"Oh I know. Give me a minute, will ya?", Came his distracted voice as he popped open one of the glove compartments and rummaged around inside its assorted contents. He pulled out a Mr Raccoon bobblehead that had been within, and looked like he was about to throw away the city's mascot before pausing, smiling, shaking it a bit and tucking it into one of his pockets instead. Then he reached back inside, finding some papers loose and threw them aside under the cockpit, digging continuously. "I'm looking for the engineer's hat. You know, the blue striped one? I figure, why not make it official. Every train has one, and I'm going to find it if it kills me."

"You have got to be...-

"Get on with it Oliveira. Before I kick your ass out of that seat. And reconsider bringing you with us."

"Alright! Alright!"

Carlos laughed at them, holding his hands up defensively in a 'don't shoot' gesture, smirking over his shoulder. He enjoyed the reaction he drew from both... and whether they liked it or not, bad as the situation was, they needed somebody cracking wise. Better the expert do it than an amateur. Jill, despite her exhaustion with his humor already, could not help but crack a smile and roll her eyes at his words... and that in its self satisfied the Corporal, and offset any potential irritation he had caused HUNK. It was worth amusing someone, anyone, when it came down to it. Carlos reluctantly left the glove compartment at it was, but did finally turn his attention to the control panel, and towards the lever as he spoke, wagging his finger in a mock scolding gesture.

"But just remember, when we get pulled over for illegally operating a cable car down the middle of the road through traffic and a parade of living carcasses, one of you can talk to the cops, not me."

"If it comes to that, I'm here for a reason. I'll order them not give you a ticket. This isn't even a proper steam engine train on a rail road track, Carlos... as you say, it's a cable car.", Jill sighed openly with sarcasm, resting a hand on her hip... but could not deny she was merely exaggerating her annoyance. He never seemed to get tired, she had to hand him that one... at least on the surface. Most others would be quiet as the grave, after going through all he had. He was braver perhaps than even he believed. "I seriously doubt in this time and age engineers still even wear that stupid hat."

"Oh they do. Watch a movie once in awhile, Supercop.", Carlos smirked as he discerned how to get the train started. At last, he dropped his humor, momentarily, but remained in good spirits regardless, invigorated to be prepared to get underway. He moved his eyes from side to side, examining the various buttons and glowing indicators on the switches beside the lever, indicating that true to HUNK's words, the train was indeed functional again, and he nodded to himself. "Nice. Looking good."

"You better be talking about the train."

"That too, of course."

Carlos grasped the lever firmly and pulled it back towards him, securing it into the activation gear... and no more than a moment later, he felt the train hum around them as its engine came to life. The lights flashing on at the front and sides of the train. Slowly pulling forward ahead on the tracks and moving, limping, out of Central Street Station. Gradually picking up speed along the track, the noise of the metal machine's various parts picking up little by little. He slowly removed his hand from the lever and leaned back in the seat, glancing at the control panel, around the cockpit, both out the windows as they moved, and back towards his companions. A happy, warm grin of relief broke out, said warmth circulating through him, and he let out a free laugh of jubilation and a victorious whooping sound. Finally... at long last, the moment had come, one he hadn't thought anyone would make it to.

For her own part, Jill felt a mixture of joy and anticipation as the train responded and moved them on, up towards the barricades. Part of her wanted to give in to Carlos's excitement and feel it entirely for herself as well... to celebrate. But another part of her, like Hunk, was reserved and calm, not counting her chickens before they were hatched. Afraid to dare to hope for the best, that it was too good to be true. Still, she couldn't hold back a slight smile, at both their escape, and Carlos's childish, carefree, yet pleased reaction. She wasn't about to squash his fun just now... God knew when he would find it again.

"Here we go!", Carlos shouted excitedly over the noise as the train reached the barricades, a stack of sandbags and some fencing, as well as various assortments of fiery debris cutting off the way in front of the track that cut across the street. He knew they would be alright, but nevertheless, he had come too far to get himself knocked out over this. He glanced over to the seat belt on the front seat, and clipped himself in, holding on to the panel before looking back up at the other two. "Here come the barricades! Everyone hold on to something tight!"

Hunk reacted first, calmly reaching up and holding on to an overhanging metal hand rail, and Jill reacted next a moment after, about to reach for the closest dangling overhead strap pr rail, but choosing the agent himself instead. Wrapping both pale, cut up and band aid covered arms around him instinctively as the floor jostled beneath her, threatened to pitch her to the ground. She dug her boots into the floor and held on to parts of his armored form tighter, drawing a low breath, slipping in closer under his risen arm above her on the rail. Pulse racing. His masked face slowly looked back down her way, seeing her own trepid expression in his lenses. For a moment she thought he would shake her off or rebuke her... but for some reason he did neither. Merely breathing through his mask. Just then, the front end of the tram reached the fire strewn barricade... and promptly plowed right through the center of it. The train did little more than rumble a bit on the impact, the force and weight of the fast moving too much for anything in its way to bear... whether that was debris on the track, cars that it pushed aside sending sparks flying... or even the former living.

After pushing through a police blockade just past the makeshift Central Street Station barricades, they found themselves hurtling through the midst of the horde said barricades had been constructed to keep out. Jill was only numbly aware of the recurring thump as the train smashed through various things... and while the rumbling and sounds of the trains engines were loud, it did not entirely block out the much closer muffled sounds of the moaning in the night. Surrounding them along the street. Jill looked up slowly, as the train hurtled down Central Street, and the moment she did, a former woman's rotting face was smashed into a pulp against the front of the cart's thick, resistant window, blood trickling down it like rain... and it was only the first impact. Other infected shambled into the path of the train, meeting the same fate, coating their T-Virus infected blood all over the front window. Carlos merely laughed and pressed a button, the window wipers of the train activating and starting to wipe away the scarlet rain. Looking ahead through the cleared up window, the Corporal released a low, impressed whistle where he sat, eyes widening with near disbelief.

"Holy shit... are you two seeing this?"

"Oh my God..."

"Hmm. Looks like your platoons missed a few, Oliveira."

They all saw it alright. There were... hundreds of them on all sides, perhaps thousands of the creatures out on the road. Packs of infected dogs running among them... infected crows feasting on the remains of corpses. She even spotted on perched on the shoulder of a zombie, viciously pecking out its eyeball as it paid the bird no heed. Some of them infected taking notice of the survivors in the train, the movement, and lurching towards it, some running their hands along the side of the train as it passed, others crushed, and still more sent flying every which way as they moved on to the tracks... they scattered through the air like bugs. A sea of the rotting, living dead. The former men, women and children out in force... in numbers she hadn't seen on the news, during the city's downfall.

By now, her own joy at their departure was gone, replaced by disquiet as the train shot up towards the more northern parts of Raccoon City, passing assorted buildings along the way. Some of them burning, smoke billowing freely into the night... firelight washing over them. Hell on earth. Watching her city burn, overrun by the dead... she had to repress the urge to vomit. She felt... fear... yes they had the protection of the train and weapons, and yes they were leaving behind the worm, and all manner of other kinds of creatures... but they were like fish in a barrel now. Surrounded on all sides by gawking, hungry things... and it just didn't stop, the countless creatures they ran over. She held on to Hunk tighter, forcing herself not to look away from the windows. Drawing on his strength. She was not alone in all this, she reminded herself. Somehow, despite everything around the train, the agent remained unperturbed. Although she couldn't see his eyes, she knew he was watching it all coolly.

"What the hell are those things?" Carlos started suddenly, eyes looking at specific parts among the crowds. Drawing HUNK and Jill's attention back to him. Something about the chill in his voice troubled Jill. "I've never seen freaks like that before."

"What is it, Carlos?"

"Look at them, Jill. There's one right there. More of them. Among the horde."

Jill and HUNK followed the direction of his troubled eyes and pointed finger into the horde ahead. Finding almost at once that he was right. Scattered at certain points around the horde were stark white, thin creatures taller than most men. Naked, exposing waxy, white, emaciated flesh. Patches of muscle visible on them... what looked like tears and burns. Their forms were entirely bald of any hair, their genitalia was indiscernible, their eyes non existent, or buried away beneath their waxy, melted flesh. The only facial features it had was its blood stained mouth... full of jagged, grinning razor teeth... twisted into a permanent bloody smile. Jill saw the Pursuer's leathery face again, looking at that grin... and was relieved with each one the train passed by. But there were more along the way.

They were misshapen, and had a strange gait even compared to the infected, Jill noted... seemed a bit quicker than the zombies... more intelligent and purposeful, deliberate in their movements. Somehow, even without eyes, their leering gazes turned to watch the passing train... the living occupants watching them back. Whatever the hell they were, zombies or separate beings, they were greatly mutated and bore little resemblance to the zombies. Even the common infected seemed to give them a slight distance... not crowding in around them at least. Their own little sections in the crowd, making them easier to spot. And they weren't the only strange things out there... a few of the zombies had glowing eyes... shining like cat's eyes in the night... though apart from that looked like every other common infected. Mutations. Evolution. Life, as Umbrella would have it... a cruel mockery of it, like their ironic motto. She felt her hand tighten unconsciously on Hunk's shoulder. Close by, Carlos's voice spoke up again, as troubled as his expression.

"Ever see any things like those pale freaks, HUNK? You're supposed to have seen it all."

"Not like those."

"Hope we don't have to find out what they can do the hard way. That none are waiting to greet us at the clock tower."

"Likewise."

Jill remained silent, though the point Carlos rose troubled her. How would things go when they stopped the train? How would they get off, and get out and escape, if they were still surrounded? Sure now and again there was a gap in which they traveled smoothly... but still there was that awful moaning as they plowed through cars and other obstacles... none of it in the way stood a chance, but it was of little comfort to her. She had to think about what came next... their departure was underway, yes, the train station, as well as the chaos Downtown and Uptown was left behind... but it meant only a new area of chaos they were rumbling steadily deeper into. She maintained a calm, cool collected face, meeting Hunk's lenses when they fell upon her again briefly, and she merely nodded, knowing damn well how pale her face was. She forced a thin smile just for him... and took a deep quiet breath when he looked back ahead to the track.

She knew she wasn't fooling anyone, least of all him.

Street lights washed over the train cars, replacing the light of the fires... not that there weren't any fires along the way. Rolling through the massive concentration of barricades, roads and infected, she could glimpse hell everywhere... last stands survivors had made before being overwhelmed, from civilians, military and police officers... and she saw many of them among those lurching, or at least turning towards the passing train. Main Street, overrun and devastated. It was truly everywhere, every road, every alley... the train passed a turned over military humvee that was still on fire... and one thing was for sure, besides their obvious destination... the commotion of the train had alerted every creature for blocks. One hand slid back from Hunk's imposing form, and she rose fully upright, gathering herself, but the other arm and hand tightened around him, drawing the comfort from it that she did. Feeling more protected this way than the thick metal of the train could provide. Wishing he would wrap his free arm around her again... as he had at the apartment, with her encouragement of course. She focused on trying to keep herself calm, as she watched her dead city. It wouldn't do to lose her head now.

Jill wondered again how it had been for Rebecca... alone on the Ecliptic Express. Infinitely worse than this, she was sure... being a much bigger train, one that was infested and out of control. Somehow she'd survived it all and more without backup, on her first field assignment with S.T.A.R.S, then went on to survive the Spencer Mansion. The thought alone had impressed Jill... and gave her some more courage to draw upon even now. The least Jill could do was her best... unlike Rebecca she now had a team and numerous weapons... and the dead were trapped outside as they sped to the extraction point. Passed through the infested heart of Raccoon City. She drew a low, steadying breath, and although her heart continued to beat quickly, she felt a calm returning to her. Seizing upon it with all she had. She found she didn't want Hunk thinking she was weak, or incapable. What he thought of her mattered... likely more than it should have. She wanted him to know she could do this, that he could count on her, even if she wasn't a special forces operative.

While HUNK and her maintained a shared silence through the start of their trip to the Saint Michael Clock Tower, Carlos was another story. While not making much noise himself, he was still very much enjoying himself. He even leaned towards the control panel and turned up the speed on the front window wipers when another head exploded against it, wiping off pieces of skull, brain and all the blood, so they could keep watching the road. Was he scared? Certainly, he recognized... but he had no objection to seizing on to the moments of fun in between, and he had been longing for some time to plow the cable car through the horde... get some of them back for what they had done to him and his friends. This was small time, compared to what he wished he could do to the zombies... but it was a start. And these freaks weren't people anymore. They deserved neither dignity nor respect. He laughed again under his breath as the train mowed down yet another zombie, sending it flying into another group and knocking them all down. Every one the train killed was one they or other survivors wouldn't have to deal with.

Yet, he didn't just focus on them, the creatures... he silently prayed for the lost souls this outbreak had been inflicted upon, kissing his crucifix. Praying they were at peace now... even as their reanimated corpses were not. And his smile did fade now and again when they passed wreckage, or the bodies of former survivors laying in the street, some of which were in familiar uniforms. There was enough horror around them, and everywhere... and he desperately needed to hold on to something, some good feeling... revenge like this was as good as any. Maybe it made him a poor Catholic... but he always had been in one way or another. Humans were flawed, fallible... he was no exception. But he tried to be better. It was all he could do. Tried to hold on to his strength and sanity as they rode a train into the maw of hell on earth.

Although Carlos watched the road mostly... he glimpsed something from the corner of his eye, within the closest glove compartment under the panel, that he had been reaching for earlier. He momentarily took his eyes off the carnage... and moving over some more papers, a manual and some other objects, he pulled it out... another broad smile rising as he examined it, feeling the material of the tram engineer's hat. He had been ready to start thinking either there wasn't one, or the original engineer had taken it with him at some point, he uttered a chuckle. The others looked down at him as he met their eyes, pulling the blue striped cap over his head, expression gloating, while Jill's pale one was a little surprised. Carlos tipped the brim of the hat respectfully to the agent and officer, rather pleased with himself, a kid in a candy shop. In spite of everything else, things were finally looking up.

"See? What did I tell you guys? Its Trainology 101, there's always a hat in-

There was a loud bang and a crashing sound against the train somewhere behind them... the groaning of metal... one that cut off Carlos's gloating words. Unlike the other impacts, did so with enough force to shake the front cable car, and cause both HUNK and Jill... even Carlos safe with his seat belt to stagger and move slightly. All of them held on tighter to where they were, and uprighted themselves, as a man's panicked shout rang all the way up towards them. The survivors in the front carriage turned almost as one away from the window of the front carriage and looked backwards behind them to the rear carriage, Carlos unclipping his belt and bolting upright, pushing past HUNK and Jill and stopping a step ahead of them, removing his silly looking hat, every trace of amusement replaced by alertness and shock. This time... the impact had come not only from outside, but rather, loudly from within... and past the open doorway separating the cable cars, at the far end of the rear carriage, metal raining and clanking to the ground, and a massive ploom of dust and smoke had risen, obscuring most of everything in that section. The Captain's coughs reaching them.

They could see very little from where they stood, yet, they had heard, and could see enough to know it wasn't a minor problem. A familiar green and black uniform and body armor clad man rolled off his seat and fell to the metal floor with his rifle, crawling backwards to the side of the doorway and pressing against, everything but his legs just out of their sight. He himself had been staring down fearfully at something within the swirling dust as he had crawled backwards... whatever had smashed the rear carriage's roof, the Captain did not want to be near. It could only mean one thing, Carlos recognized, his heart dropping in his chest. They were no longer as isolated as they should have been... had thought they would remain. Carlos was the first to react, unslinging his rifle and throwing his train hat over on to the seat next to the backpack he had stuffed with supplies, shouting loudly to the far end of the cable car.

"Captain Viktor! Are you ok down there?!"

Another pained yell, one for help from the injured Captain was all the answer he received back, and the three of them snapped into action after glancing between themselves. Jill moving ahead of both HUNK, who drew the TMP from his belt in a flash and snapped on the laser sight, and Carlos who switched his rifle's safety off, taking the lead. Jill felt the fear racing through her heart as she unslung her own rifle and rose it to her shoulder... at whatever it could be. For a moment, at the rumbling, she had believed it to be the worm attacking them again... burrowing under the tracks... but she was wrong. The train either would have been entirely crushed, or dragged down into some hole in that case... but she was not wrong in her belief that a nightmare had arrived. Jill moved hurriedly down the center of the aisle towards the doorway with Carlos with his worried expression flanking her right side, and Hunk her left. Carlos was breathing rather harder than either herself or Hunk... she knew damn well how terrified he was, but the rookie clearly repressed it as best he could. She didn't just move, she ran as fast as she could, switching off her own safety, ignoring her throbbing leg, which, in the wake of her racing heart, the terror and anticipation for the worst that she felt, did not seem to exist any longer. She knew the horror that awaited her, before she even saw it... but she had to see it, had to know for sure. Making her way down the aisle to the door, reaching it at last, she stood in the middle of it before stepping all the way through.

The first place thing she did was look over to her side, to where the bloodied Captain Mikhail lay against the edge of the door on the floor with his rifle. She found him trembling and wide eyed, utterly horrified, fear overtaking even the obvious pain he had been in. Sheer horror infused into his lined, graying features.

"Mikhail! What is it?! Talk to me!"

Jill shouted loudly in an attempt, a futile attempt to catch his attention... but he did not so much as glance in her direction, rather peering straight ahead, too frightened even to lift up his rifle from his side at what he had seen. Despite her idea, plan to scoop him up and drag him back to the front carriage... Jill found herself looking slowly away from him and staring numbly into the same cloud of dust and smoke that he was. A cloud taking up the width of it, while Carlos climbed up on the seat and peered through the window into the rear carriage beside it at the makeshift medical station. Hunk in turn looked through the window opposite, at the weapon station, the three of them watching from separate firing positions.

Although her rifle was aimed, at the ready, finger on the trigger... she did not fire... not until she knew... what she was already certain she knew. A dark shape resided somewhere within all that dust and smoke... and gradually, very gradually, did the cloud settle... and the darkness remain. Jill's eyes started to widen as the massive humanoid figure rose... and she knew what it was before it threw its misshapen, mutilated leathery head back as it stood among the pieces of the broken metal train roof, spread out its broad arms and shook back and forth on the spot, the mighty roar emerging from its swollen gullet. Its roar echoed through the entirety of both rumbling trains and the engine, and the wailing horde outside... she heard it in her soul. When it was done bellowing, it stood fully upright and silent, its milky yellow eye peering right back down the rear carriages aisles, into her eyes. In an instant, it rose its damning finger and pointed her out specifically, of all the people there, as the train rumbled around them, and the fresh cool air of the night sky filtered into the formerly sealed, stifling carriage, raising goosebumps along Jill's flesh. The hairs on her arms and back of her neck standing up.

"S.T.A.R.S.!"

Its low, dead voice growled the word... yet also seemed to breath them out. Carlos swore aloud at the sight of it. Somehow, after everything she had put it though... it still functioned... the grenade to the chest only lightly damaging its coat, battering and tearing it slightly... along with the entire automobile that had crushed it. Smoke rising up in clouds over its massive shoulders, the long dark coat was only lightly scorched in even more blackened patches from the blaze, undoubtedly fireproof material as well as bullet proof. Various sized jagged pieces of bent, burnt metal were sticking out of its torso, purple fluids running down them, dripping slightly from the open wounds. Parts of its giant face were also burnt... but it looked little worse off than it had been from the start, the bullet wounds to its head having already mostly healed up. It had shaken off all she had done on her own to it, like it had been nothing... its malignant, rage filled eye incensed, staring at her. As if asking her how had she ever expected to kill it. That she was a fool to have hoped.

No... but she had not thought it would return this quickly... and not here and now of all times, shattering the former safety the train provided. Breaking the illusion. An interloper yet again. How had it caught up with the train? In her minds eye, she saw it jumping building to building, tendrils pulling it along... moving faster and jumping higher than something its size should. The same way it had gotten ahead of her in Uptown... train or on foot, neither had been a deterrent for this thing, when it had resumed its pursuit of them. Of her. Tearing and crashing through the ceiling with all the force it had, perhaps alerted by all the noise from both the train and the zombies still moaning outside. Or it had their scents. Not that it mattered much compared to what it was here to do. It began to walk then, slowly, in no rush, knowing it had its prey cornered at last, the tentacle within its hand extending and writhing, the purple tentacle on its neck and shoulder pulsating more furiously, excitedly as its leathery skull-like face grinned maliciously.

"You..."

Jill murmured gravely, and only remained inactive a second longer, before her finger moved to the grenade launcher, flicking off its safety, both barrels leveled at the thing. It was time she corrected her mistake before. But before she could blast it to the far end of the train, a familiar red laser sight flickered on to the Pursuer, and a barrage of bullet rounds, automatic fire streamed past Jill's right side and shot into the front of the Tyrant's face, slowing it down even further and pinning it momentarily to the spot. As if on cue, a second burst of automatic fire from a rifle came, the shots sounding different than the first barrage, and both of the windows on either side of her, and of the door blew apart, raining glass everywhere. Mikhail raising an arm over his face momentarily before dropping it, and continuing to watch blankly at the creature beyond his comprehension. The thing uttered another growl, low and furious at the interruption it had received from Hunk and Carlos, but it could not yet make good on its rage. Along with the twin barrage of rounds, that made even the giant thing stagger back slightly, a loud, muffled voice came, shaking her from her hollow fear and rage, and from her near destructive action just before she saw it through.

"Valentine, don't use grenades! It's too close to the engine, you'll blow it up as well! Shoot it in the head!"

"You heard the man, Supercop! Let the motherfucker have it!"

She felt anger rivaling the Pursuer's at the voice's words, and she came within a hairbreadth of ignoring it... she wanted to shoot it in the head alright, with all three of her grenades... and to hell with the train. It didn't matter, killing this bastard was all that mattered, she would blow it to pieces, send it to the same place they had sent the worm... show Umbrella that not even its top creations could silence her. More than ever, she longed for a rocket launcher, one of the same quality as the one Brad had dropped her, when last a Tyrant had been after her. She wanted to fire rocket after rocket into the fucking thing, turn its pieces into pieces, then shoot what remained.

But... then what? At what cost? Killing herself, and the others in the process? Kill Hunk, Carlos and Mikhail, possibly the only other survivors left in the entire city? It would be a meaningless victory... one that would leave nobody left to tell the tale, and the truth, of what had really went on here... and not even one with a guarantee of killing it. Using the grenades... she risked doing Umbrella's job for the Pursuer. Hunk's logic angered her, not because it was wrong, but because it spoiled her deepest wishes right now... but that was precisely it... he was not wrong. The well being of the others... and yes, of herself... that alone was the only reason she reluctantly flicked the safety back on to her grenade launcher, and her finger went to the primary trigger of her rifle. Preserving their lives meant more to her than taking this thing's life... or the poor imitation of it anyways. This thing was not alive... it was a monster, born in a tank. An abomination of science, nothing more... while the lives of the other had value and meaning. Her survival had meaning.

Despite the other temptation to go full auto or in bursts, as the others were... very much enjoying watching the Tyrant under a hail of gunfire... she conserved ammunition with her single shot function, firing rounds into its upper chest and face, joining in on the barrages. By now, the three barrages of tracer rounds threatened to overwhelm it, drive it back... and Jill shot it in the forehead, along with the others... a trickle of purple, sickly liquid leaking from each bullet wound, but its skull too powerful for the rounds to entirely penetrate. Flesh knitting back together even as fresh tears were opened by other rounds. Healing and taking injury at the same time. Still, it was definitely slightly injured, based on the second bellow it provided, raising its massive arm and covering its face, protecting it like a shield and behaving as a bear swatting aside a swarm of annoying bees.

Now and again, one of the barrages stopped to reload, and during each of these, the thing lurched forward a little more down the aisle towards Jill and the injured Mikhail. The damn thing was actually timing their shots, calculating and adapting, within the confines of the carriage, she realized. It pushed back against the rounds as though it fought a tidal wave or wind storm, digging its boots into the ground and trudging forward... but still it was some way from Jill... and there it needed to stay. As much distance as possible. If it got too close, she was probably, almost certainly done for... there was too little room within the carriage for her to dodge the massive thing for very long. She couldn't give it the chance to grab her, to grab any of them, as it had her last time, or use its tendrils. She still felt the pain from the bruises at her throat it had left behind... remembered the squirming tendril ready to impale her. That would have, if not for Hunk's intervention.

There was no time yet to evacuate Mikhail, or even think of some kind of escape. Mikhail was visibly in shock, frozen stiff save his breathing. Jill went strictly on the offensive, her eyes narrowing down the sights of her rifle and shooting round after round into the creature, opening up some wounds that its body armor didn't take, its coat riddled in shells. She thought distantly of the fifty caliber machine gun Carlos had claimed to have awhile back... and how she longed to have it here and now... she doubted even the Tyrant could stand up under its repeated force. Given the machine gun, her first step would be opening up a new exit in the side of the rear carriage and shooting the damn thing out it. Bisecting it under the barrage. As it were... she was stuck with the usually effective rifle, that was only moderately so at best, against the Pursuer. Spent brass casings streamed about freely from each of their weapons as round after round tore into its coat, and Jill shot at its exposed flesh every time it was visible, opening up wounds on its hand and the top of its head. This did little more than piss it off, so Jill utilized another tactic... she aimed precisely where the red dot of HUNK's TMP was firing, and she fired there as well simultaneously... not a word was needed between all of them for this to catch on.

Coming to the same conclusion she had, Carlos joined in, the three of them focusing their concentrated firing at the same section of its coat, gradually tearing into some of the fabric. Under the concentrated fire, they managed to open up a small hole on its chest, at the same moment it reached half way along the rear carriage towards them. Within what little could be seen in the coat... sickly, slimy flesh, of the same tone as its head, shifted about, massive veins pulsating like the tentacles it possessed. But upon opening up this small space, the trio bursts of rounds tore in, spilling forth gouts of the purple gore within its system. The liquid poured down the front of its coat, and it let out another growl, more painful than the one preceding it... but by now, it could no longer move forward, instead stuck fast to the spot, even when one of the survivors stopped to reload. They must have hit an artery, Jill realized. All it could do was stand tall, growl at them and cover its head from even worse damage, with both arms, leaving its midsection more vulnerable than before. Jill coldly stared at the Tyrant's opening wound, the slime and putrid purple liquid spilling out, soaking its bottom half and dripping all over the floor of the train, and she held her breath, focusing, insuring each round was not wasted.

The results were fortunate, and slightly unexpected. Working together, the three of them put it through more pain than any of them had prior accomplished. But still the big son of a bitch would not topple... it held on for as long as it could... the firefight lasting for what felt like hours... a fight that was minutes in reality, at the most. Finally, as Jill started to believe it would never drop... it slowly began to lower its arms back down to its side, a gesture that surprised her enough to hold her fire... and the others doing the same soon after.

The Pursuer that had been tormenting her from the start of it all pointed at her slowly again, raising its hand weakly... but even the only word it knew was no longer capable of croaking from whatever it had that passed for lungs. It took only a half step closer, as the trio of barrels that were their weapons smoked lightly, and its malignant eye somehow seemed more glossed over than usual as it stared at Jill... and the eye remained open, even as it slowly toppled forward, its great bulk smashing heavily and unceremoniously into the broken metal cluttered along the floor with a rather large, thunderous crash throughout the train. Jill's eyes widened in shock, scarcely believing the sight she knew she had seen. Hunk remained silent, the red laser sight still hovering over its giant body. Behind her, still aiming through his window, she heard Carlos crowing in victory, laughing his ass off at the sight.

"Yeah! That's what the fuck I'm talking about! Not so tough now, eh Skull Stalker?! And stay down!"

It barely resembled the murderous machine from the movie Carlos loved, as it was now. Its form lay there, limp and motion, massive arms down at either side... a pool of purple, slimy liquid forming around it in every direction. It was only in the seconds that passed... Jill realized she was still holding her breath... and a stony silence descended over the train, in which none of the four survivors truly heard the rumbling of the train, and the horde outside the ceiling that it crashed through, more creatures smashing against the sides of the train cars. Jill looked up to the broken section of the rear carriage's roof... bent inwards like it had torn apart tinfoil. Hideous, unnatural strength.

Yet, it had gone down too easily... that was one of the first thoughts that came to her... at least, far more quickly than before... a feat owed only, it seemed, to their teamwork, and concentrated fire. The other occasions she had encountered it had been another story... they had been ambushed, not attacked from a defensive position... here, they had possessed the advantage, regardless of its juggernaut nature. It was nothing short of a miracle that they had survived, much less downed it... only grenades in the past had been able to do that. But she had to acknowledge, its coat had been gradually receiving damage for some time... it could only help so much, couldn't it? Perhaps it was more vulnerable than she had thought. Either way... Jill appreciated the seeming impossible feat they had all managed together.

"I can't... believe it.", She murmured to herself under her breath. "I didn't... think... we actually...-

Jill broke off, breathing heavily, slowly, reluctantly lowering her smoking rifle slightly, eyes still unblinking... and despite their seeming victory, she could not smile... she found herself feeling as pale as Captain Mikhail was in that moment. Cold and sick within, the goosebumps remaining and her hairs standing up on end. Swallowing back the urge to vomit. She didn't feel the relief she had hitting it with a grenade on the street and hosing it down with lead under the wreckage. She felt like she wanted to throw up... to cry, lose control... but forced herself to remain in control, to rein in her trembling. Gradually, Jill glanced off to the window on her right hand side that Carlos had took up his defensive post in... he was already reloading his rifle where he knelt on the medical station seat, expression numb as he met her eyes. Even the young man who always seemed to have something to say, had nothing more to say on the matter, popping in the fresh magazine and locking it into place before avoiding her eyes again. Despite their apparent victory, he was neither cheering, nor on the verge of saying anything optimistic, or celebrating any longer. Fear had returned and been etched into his lightly stubble lined, youthful face, making it seem far older somehow. Something in his eyes. What they had just survived probably sinking in, that there was nothing amusing to any of this.

Jill turned slightly on the spot, looking down to Mikhail, who still, it seemed, had not collected his wits, staring in horror at the monstrosity's corpse, as unblinking as she was. He still lay against the wall, amid all the broken glass of the shattered window, and the spent heated casings of the TMP that had fired over his head, raining upon him. Several absurdly remaining atop his hat. The protective red laser sight was still focused on the Pursuer's head, and Jill followed the sight up to the left hand window beside the door, studying the dark mask and red lenses that hovered within. Jill did not know whether he was watching her, or the monster... his posture indicated nothing to her... but she could imagine which of the two he was doing. Somehow, given how still he often was... she had never seen him more motionless as he aimed over the window panel. He was a finely tuned machine again, all trace of humanity gone, a cold statue, still and deadly. And she understood the nicknames Nikolai had called him in that moment. Jill looked back down to Mikhail's blank expression... and only after she drew in a few refreshing, cool breaths... did true thought return to her, and planning. Her intent to take Mikhail back to the front carriage with them... but before the impulse could do even more than form, Carlos's hoarse, accented tone broke over the cold quiet.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding..."

Jill, frozen to the spot in growing horror, understanding, could make only a half turn of her body, looking back over her shoulder numbly. To find the Pursuer twitching, convulsing in the middle of a pool of its own fluids... then it went still again, like a switch had been flipped... digging its hands into the aisle floor. Steadily rising back up to its giant boots as though the barrage of gunfire had been of little consequence. Moving like a machine. Looming tall, its shadow casting down over the aisle towards them. Its coat, damaged or not, clung to it defiantly, coated in burns, purple, fresh fluids and bullet marks of varying sizes. It stared at them with that milky yellow eye, hating them, throwing its head and arms back again, and releasing another furious, thunderous growl as the purple liquid within it streamed down over near its entire ruined face. The wounds already starting to knit back up again slowly before their very eyes.

Without hesitating, it began to move again, walking, the thud of its massive boots pounding the floor... and Jill's teeth bared together hatefully, like the thing's own jaw at glimpsing its survival. She seized on to her anger, her rage, to repress the fear and self loathing. She had been... foolishly hopeful, too hasty in thinking it dead, or pacified for awhile... she felt like an idiot for thinking either one was possible, it had been made too well to be knocked out of the game by bullets alone. She remembered all too well what it had taken to destroy the Tyrant at the Spencer Mansion... and that had been one of the prototypes. Its tentacles in both hands were squirming to the surface, writhing and extending through the flesh, stiffening and softening, moving of their own accord, spraying more of the purple liquid around as they longed to impale one of its targets. Veins in the thick, snake-like tendril at its collar throbbing more excitedly, as its great maw of razor teeth parted again, a guttural, foul sound emerging from it.

"S.T.A.R.S.!"

"How...?"

She asked it hollowly. By the time the three of them had snapped up their weapons again and opened fire, it moved an arm over its chest as one of Carlos's slugs slammed into its exposed spot, and the other over its face after a trio of Hunk's did the same, adapting to the situation. Becoming an immovable wall. Causing the survivors to cease fire again. Jill stepped back slowly towards the doorway and Mikhail, shaking her head... and for the first time since she got on the train, she didn't know what to do. There was nothing left they could do. Bullets weren't working, the train was in motion, and explosives would take out the engine if not kill them all. Or it would start running, before long, rip her, and then the others to pieces for being in the way of its objective... it would neither hesitate nor show mercy... it was incapable of either. Or they would run out of bullets, and it would remain just fine. It had marked them all down as targets... the men behind her for merely trying to protect her. They were dead... at long last, this was it. It could only win on this chosen battlefield. Jill stood where she was blankly, taking up Mikhail's shock and dread, her rifle slowly lowering to her side. It was then... only then, as they seemed ready to meet their doom, that she was shaken from her terror by a sudden, loud commanding voice. Like a lion's roar. A voice that came not from Hunk, but the injured Captain, causing her head to snap over in his direction, taken off guard.

"JILL! GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF! LOOK ALIVE!"

Captain Mikhail shouted as he rose to his feet, having collected his wits in the presence of the abomination... a creature that must have been spawned in the darkest of scientist's imaginations. He did not know what it was... the monstrosity made even Colonel Vladimir look small, its great coat even resembling the silver haired bastard's uniform. All he knew was that it was of Umbrella... that they had somehow created such a monster, like the others. He knew its intent, from the word it had uttered. And above all, he knew what he needed to do now. What needed to be done now, for her, and for all of them. To preserve the chance they still had. It made sense... it made perfect sense now. Why he had survived this long. It was what he was meant for. He was the only one who could do it.

He rose weakly, in pure agony back up to his feet, insides on fire, leaning against the wall behind him briefly for support, staring hard between the frightened young woman that had been kind to him, that had just protected him as best she could. Gasping and breathing heavily, the Captain readied himself to see through his repayment to her. He didn't care how much it hurt... the pain wouldn't last much longer. Soon, he would be free. He stopped leaning against the wall, standing to his fullest height, expression rough and grim, raising his rifle up from his hip, the pain too much to bring it to his shoulder. Bellowing to the young woman as Death and Carlos continued to slow the giant's looming pursuit with some covering gunfire.

"GET OUT OF THE CABLE CAR! NOW!"

Jill started at the suddenness of his return and his taking charge... she took another step forward, closer to him and knew what he intended to do. Exactly what he had done outside at the station with the zombies, attempt a last stand... this one far more futile than that one had been. Now was not a time to play hero... not now that they were so close to escape... they needed him, but not like this. He couldn't just throw his life away... she'd... made him a promise. Her eyes flickered up to Hunk, who nodded to her in agreement at the Captain's words and beckoned her over... but she tore her eyes off him and back to the older man. Her voice weakened again, a cold tremble passing over it, over her entire system, stomach churning as she spoke. As she pleaded in vain.

"Mikhail! Don't do this! Please! We're all supposed to leave together!"

"Get out of here young lady! Hurry! I'm staying! You are leaving! No arguments!"

Captain Viktor's roughened, accented, authoritative voice barked, demanded, looking away from her and moving his finger to the trigger of his rifle as the thing neared, its shadow closing in as it passed, illuminated, down the aisle. He shot it several times, to next to no effect... but when the two other automatic weapons from both windows on either side of the door opened up again, joining him... an effect did occur, the combined fire slowing it down a little further. Providing him a bit more time to think. To plan out his final moments, set his affairs in motion and provide one more helpful service to her. As one hand fired the rifle, his other dug into his blood stained vest, searching among the pockets, and after a moment that seemed to last forever, he produced the photograph he had carried before the start of his service to Umbrella, as well as the letter he had only just managed to finish, before the giant thing had interrupted. Then moving the same hand over to the front right pocket of his vest and removing the mobile transmitter radio he and every other U.B.C.S. mercenary carried. Finally... he removed his dog tags, looking at the necklace catch the light and glint. He extended his hand and offered each of the objects to her to take, and his eyes finally moved off the growling, enraged monster, and to her saddened, confused eyes.

"Take this radio and use it well, do not ask me any questions or say anything. Please, I have one last request... take the photograph, tags and the letter to my family. That I loved... love them. Tell them that I'm sorry. I was always a better soldier than a father or husband."

"Mikhail... I-

"Take them, damn you! Tell them! And get the hell out of here while you still can!"

His voice was rough, urgent and harsh over the gunfire... but she knew he did not mean it to be. These were his final moments on earth... he was going in the manner he chose to... she had to save him... wanted to save him, but also had no right to take this wish away from him. Even as he took away hers, her promise. She felt her throat swelling within, raw and dry... something coiling in her throat and chest... and although she didn't say more, it was only because she couldn't say more. He was giving it all up for them... he was among the most noble people she had ever met, and despite having only known each other so briefly... she knew she would never forget him.

Holding her rifle by its carrying rack, she took the items in one hand, examining them... the dark radio... but she had no time to examine the photograph, tags or letter under them... instead tucking them safely into one of her free pouches and closing it up. Before clipping the radio to her shoulder strap opposite the flashlight and meeting his grateful eyes again. Despite it all... he smiled at her, for a single moment... and he looked decades younger as he accepted the close of his life. There was no terror or shock in him any longer, at the end, as there had been with so many people she knew... not like Brad... this was simply who Captain Mikhail Viktor was. Loyal to his duty... to his purpose. His choice. Drawing closer to her, he spoke for her alone to hear, calmly and rapidly.

"Goodbye, Jill. Thank you. Live. Just, escape and live for me... ok? All of you. Someone must. Take care of Carlos... and Death as well. He has nobody else that will the right way. Who really cares about the man lingering beneath the legend."

Their look lingered only an instant longer, before she could even comprehend what he was saying, the veteran soldier stood at attention, snapped a salute to the three of them... and without awaiting a response, shoved her roughly to safety back through the open doorway behind her. She stumbled back into the front carriage, falling on her back in a pained heap, the impact stunning her. Dazedly, she looked up to find Hunk and Carlos still providing cover fire from the windows, and beyond the door she watched Mikhail firing widely at the Pursuer as it closed in on his form. Jill managed to slowly rise to her knees, then her feet... but as she did so, she could only watch as Hunk ceased fire and moved over to the doorway she had stood in. For a moment, she thought he was going to step through and help, or even grab Mikhail personally... save his life as she could not... but he did not. He made his intention clear... he paused only for a second in the doorway, watching the Captain as Carlos fired from the medical station, spraying rounds in the rear carriage's aisle, some of the spent casings falling and hitting Jill's boots. When the second passed, Hunk grasped the side of the metal sliding door and forced it shut, cutting off her view of the battle, and locking it securely.

"No!"

Jill shouted over the gunfire, shocking herself at the suddenness her formerly missing voice returned. She panicked, losing her head for a moment at long last. She could not fake her calm... not anymore... not now, like this. She couldn't let him die... she had promised... acceptance or not, his choice or not... she could not let him die. She helped people, she did not just sit back and let them die. She forced herself through her daze, vision returning sharply, and she ran over to the locked door with her rifle as the agent turned around to face her. She bolted past him before he could react, hands moving to the locks, prepared to draw them back. His hand seized her wrist in a flash of movement, and Jill struggled, indignation overtaking her, shouting at him.

"What the hell are you doing?! We have to help him! We can't just leave him in there with that thing!"

"It's out of your hands! It's what he wants Valentine!"

Hunk spoke loudly into her ear, tone colder and more collected than ever, even in the midst of their situation. He grabbed her arms and pulled her away from the door before she could open it again, moving them up the aisle, grasping her shoulders and spinning her on the spot to face him, staring hard back into her eyes. Preventing her from moving, his grip hardened. By now, she was breathing so hard she was outright panting, struggling, unthinking in his grip. She had to save him... had to... there had to be a way. She struggled to break free from the Umbrella Agent but he was too strong, too powerful, she struck out at his arm and he didn't even shift. She looked back at her pale, furious twin faces in the red lenses. In turn he shook her back effortlessly, bringing her closer, his authoritative voice shouting at her through the mask.

"That's enough! He is dead already! If you want to honor what he dies for, our safety, let him go! He knows what he's doing!"

"Let go of me you son of a...- Hunk... I- I... promised... I told him-

"He knows, Valentine. He is paying you back. The only way he can. It must be done. Now breath. Please."

A cold, deadly calm returned to his voice... and something about it calmed her slightly as well. Even as they stood aboard this boarded train to oblivion. His imploring words reaching her. Jill stood motionlessly in Hunk's grip as her mind raced... it had all happened so fast, what the Captain had told her... what they had spoken of... his request... it had been too sudden, she had no time to think it through. Only now, she had come close to backing out of her deal with him, to uphold her promise, taking away his wish. Her heart pounded in her ears... and deep down, she knew he was right. They were both right. It was not her call. Her throat burned even more roughly than before... and she wanted to weep... to fall forward into Hunk's powerful arms and cry against his chest over the rapports of gunfire, the rumbling of the train, the moans outside and the low growl emanating from the rear carriage. She wanted to hold him as tightly as she could and bury her face into his vest, hide away, block it all out and forget, be somewhere, anywhere but here.

It had been...a very long since she had last been able to show a man affection... and she wanted to give it to him, and have it from him. She wanted to show it to him, even knowing his mission, and the cold front he often wore. She wanted it... wanted to know everything would be alright, the comfort of hearing it would mean the world whether it was a lie or the truth... but as it often was with things she wanted, she could not allow herself to have it. Not here, and not now. Instead, she merely stood upright a little taller, returning her false calm, her breathing balancing out... and she found she truly couldn't say anything more, lest the floodgate open against her gathering will. She merely nodded, the bangs falling over one eye, attempting to look as dignified as possible, despite the mess that were her feelings, the mixing pool of assorted conflicting emotions.

She peered back into his lenses, and she nodded once more. The action seemed to satisfy him, and if he saw the falseness in her calm, he did not comment on it. He merely studied her a little longer in that perpetual silence of his. His hand reached up as though on its own, gently brushing the fallen bangs out of her eye... and then let go of her... one hand taking up his TMP... but the other remaining on her shoulder. Gripping it firmly, encouragingly... not merely to keep her where she was. At last, he looked over to Carlos's firing position, and Jill glanced over as well, trying to set aside her jumbled feelings that circulated around her, watching, as well as listening... she could hear the Captain taunting the Pursuer as its footsteps approached... and listened as he ran out of shells. It had him... it was on him.

She saw it in her mind's eye... and Mikhail's pained yells confirmed it immediately after, forcing her eyes closed. There was a powerful impact close to the left side of the door, and the shattering of glass from one of the windows... followed by pained breathing... another roar from the Pursuer, and a scream from the Captain. A thud as his body his the metal floor on the aisle. All the while Carlos fired away, eyes widened as he aimed at the thing the other two could barely see though the dark tinted window... fired ineffectively, the moments passing like an eternity. It had turned around and was marching down the rear carriage towards wherever the Captain lay. She heard pistol gunfire, and the click of the magazine going empty. Carlos's concerted voice broke out in the front carriage between rifle shots, lined with pain, anger and sorrow in every syllable, and before long, utterly frantic.

"Drop dead already you son of a bitch! Captain Mikhail! Get the hell away from- oh God. Grenade! Everyone get away from the door! Back up! NOW!"

A second passed as Carlos ceased fire and shared one final look with his commanding officer, heart pounding in his ears and spun on the spot on the medical section, making eye contact with the others, Jill opening her eyes to see what he was doing, the commotion he was making. One more second passed and he was leaping off the seats towards the agent and officer, and utilizing his instinct, his rawest instinct of survival, he did all he could think to do. Carlos took them off guard, tackled them both to the ground away from the door as far as his weight could take them, almost past the ammunition station, bringing down all three of them to the floor. Jill's arms seized on to Hunk's fallen form beside her, burying her face against him and she released a startled breath, hearing his muffled ones in her ear and feeling his own arm fasten around her in return. Another second ticked by on each of their watches, and Carlos was atop of and covering the intertwined man and woman with his body as best he could.

Shielding them from the force of what hit them all in the next instant.

---

"I see no ticket... interloper. You have chosen... the wrong train."

The instant the door sealed shut safely behind him, courtesy of Death, who had ceased fire to close it, while ever reliable Corporal Oliveira continued covering him as best he could... a good soldier, Mikhail stepped in front of the door protectively. Standing his ground before the looming, gigantic abomination, tilting his neck from side to side and popping the muscles audibly. Ready for the final dance. By now, the monster was quite simply a mess, worse off than he himself was, if it truly felt pain. He barely felt the burning in his stomach linings, his raw adrenaline and emotion overtaking it, and tempered by years of military training and cold discipline. Its long dark coat was covered in bullets, and a foul smelling purple gore lined its front and what could barely be called a face.

As it passed the three fourths mark of the rear carriage, it stopped covering both its head and chest... it no longer cared. It grinned, its skull-like grin at him... his grim reaper leering, in that moment... but one that had not come originally for him. One taking the time to claim him, before it did her. The Captain stood in the way of its objective... he could not let it pass and get to the girl. He could hear her shouting through the door and over the gunfire, desiring to return and help him... but she had done more than enough, and hopefully her friends would help her recognize that. Death's muffled voice was speaking to her, stopping her from throwing her own life away. Telling her that his life was in his own hands now. He would not let it get to her, or them... as far as he was concerned, Jill was his eldest daughter in that moment... and nothing would get to her while he drew breath.

"Come on then, you colossal bastard!"

Mikhail ordered the creature as its shadow fell over top of him, standing within several feet by now. As he grunted in pain with every step, it merely grinned at the twin barrages it received and shrugged them off... each accomplishing next to nothing. Still... it was no longer focused on killing Jill, rather upon attacking him... that was all that mattered. He had angered it sufficiently that it had a bead on him, buying her precious time, and he drew back closer against the door as he sprayed it with automatic fire. The roar of the rifle and kick in his hands was heartening, encouraging, life giving, even as he tried to deprive it of its so called life. They tore into its flesh, opening it up and pouring out more of that foul substance. It growled at all the impacts... he had hurt it.

"Yes! That's it! Show me exactly what it takes... to break you!"

Holding down the trigger, he was so lost in it, in his desire to stop the abomination that he did not realize he had spent the entire magazine until he clicked the useless trigger several times, and it did not respond. He did no more than gaze down at it for a second, before he saw the creature move in a different way from the corner of his perceptions. His jaw slackened, and he shot his eyes up in its direction just in time to see its broad arm impact into the side of his head, and he released a deep pained breath, the force blowing up his thoughts and stunning them, everything going into a haze at that moment as he attempted rational thought. He felt himself release his spent rifle, and it clattered to the floor somewhere ahead, and he felt his head slam against the side of the train window, shattering it with ease, blood streaming down his face, and his hat falling somewhere. The second he impacted, it released an inhuman, angry breath. He dropped, unceremoniously back down into the same bloody seat he had been laying on for so long, attempting to gather his wits... somehow remaining conscious... his first impulse was to recover his gun... he could see it down on the floor, laying uselessly.

He was still alive... a little longer... and honestly, it surprised him... the creature could have taken his head off with that swing if it had so wished... but had instead swatted him like the fly he was in comparison. Playing with its food. perhaps. He saw it, in that glinting, milky eye. Intelligence. Sadism. It knew what it was doing, he realized... and it enjoyed it. Intelligence was an advantage... but its sadism a weakness. It could have killed him... but had given him another chance, in holding back. He could feel the ringing in his ear, and the muffled gunshots and shouting in both the rear and front carriage, but it was all a pool of mixed, distorted white noise. His gun... that was all that mattered... scooping it up, reloading, and aiming it at the bastard's hideous face, and... putting an end to it. Blood ran from his mouth, as he managed some dazed words of defiance.

"Is that all... you can muster...?"

He did not get his chance... even from the side of his dazed thoughts and pain, he saw it turn slowly on the spot, the Corporal's rounds impacting uselessly across its back. Its form fell over him as it lowered slightly, leaning over him and extending its own arm... accomplishing what he did not. Mikhail released a pained scream when its unyielding, agonizing grip enclosed around the back of his uniform, up by his neck, and he was lifted effortlessly in one hand off the seat. It moved him back over to the door, and even amid all the agony, he thought it would throw him through the door, use him for a battering ram it did not need to breach the next cart... but he was pleased when it did not. Its sadism striking again. It truly was focused on him alone now, it had reprioritized its goals... and as pathetic as he was against its might, it seemed to judge him sufficient enough a threat.

Instead, it threw him back down the length of the rear carriage, and he fell past his dropped rifle in the aisle, landing heavily, the breath blown from his body... enough to cut off his screams and silence them. He felt and heard bones break, but couldn't scream. He lay helpless for a second, face down in floor, the blood pooling around his mouth, and out his broken nose and he coughed, spitting out some of it, and attempting to catch his breath. He felt burning... all over and within. It didn't matter... he only had to live a little longer now... still there was that gunfire, and Carlos shouting curses at the abomination... and above all, he heard the familiar trudging of its boots as it moved down towards him, for the final time. He drew his SIG Pro and took shaky aim with his sidearm, opening fire on it. Some rounds striking it, some glancing off metal and sparking somewhere. None of the shots deterred it... and the pistol clicked empty. Cursing, he tossed it aside, and tried to crawl away, through the thick blood... one hand after another pulling him along inch by inch... but his body betrayed him the final time, and he could crawl no further.

"No... no more... running..."

There was no escape possible... there was no running, or backing down... it was now or never at all. He rose his arms out in front of himself as he lay in the blood and broken glass and metal, and he looked back behind himself slightly, expression blank... or close to it. He felt an unnatural calm... even so close to the end... he had everything he needed, to be able to go on his own terms. He could barely raise his eyes from this position, glimpsing only the giant's bottom half as it walked towards him, its boot pulverizing his spent rifle effortlessly the second it stepped on it. Shrugging off his Corporal's rounds, his subordinate continuing a hopeless fight to try to save him. Heartening the Captain. Mikhail knew it was time, reaching down into one of the pouches on his waist, fingers enclosing on what lay within... the cold, welcome metal of the high explosive, incendiary grenade canister.

Good... it was still there. There was still a chance. To set all this right.

"Just a... little closer..."

It was within three steps by now, peering pitilessly down at him and raising each of its hand... within them, a purple thick, slimy living tentacle sprang forth, whipping around excitedly in the palm, hungry for the helpless prey that lay below. With a squishing sound, the ends of the tendrils parted, broke open, revealing an eyeless mouth of razor teeth like the one on its head, longing to feast. This was the moment. Using all the strength he had left, breathing painfully, Mikhail rolled over on his back, simultaneously producing the grenade in his right hand and holding it up, his other hand on the pin. It was a beautiful item, this particular incendiary grenade... the company made them well, with a combination of napalm and high explosive power, not simply one or the other. It was only fitting he use one of their fine weapons on another of their weapons.

He had heard Death's words about destroying the engine... the risk and danger it posed... but it was still giving them a much better chance than they had otherwise. He believed in them... believed they would make it now. It was the only way. He peered up into its malignant yellow eye, and leathery, skull face... and he felt cold satisfaction above all in that instant as it started to bare down on him. Something flickered in its eye... and Mikhail knew that it recognized the weapon he held. It was the end, but he was little other than content. At last, when it had stepped into his trap, he taunted it in his mother tongue.

"Get the fuck off my train. You lose."

Without hesitation, spitting up some more blood in the creature's direction spitefully on its boots, he pulled the pin, activating the explosive and arming it. With one final effort, he looked to the window just past the creature that his Corporal resided in, as the boy ceased fire... the monster was not the last thing Mikhail wanted to see of this earth. Rather, one of those who would make it due to his actions. Mikhail smiled sadly in that second their eyes met, and the boy, wide eyed and understanding, jumped to safety out of sight with the others protected behind the thick, sealed metal door.

An old man would die. A caring and confident young woman who had been so kind to a stranger, a loyal and brave boy he had once commanded, and an extraordinary man he hoped would see through his request and redeem himself, would live. Just as the smiling family in the photograph awaiting him back home would live. He knew would see them all again, one day.

It was a fair trade.

He felt its tendrils in each risen hand impale through his body armor, uniform, flesh and innards, but they did not get to feast. At the same instant the high explosive grenade detonated in his hand. All Captain Mikhail Viktor had been was gone instantaneously, and he felt none of it any longer. The rear carriage exploded... at least everything within the interior did, the windows bursting out and raining over the streets the train passed. The windows beside the door dividing the carts, already having been destroyed, did not rain glass into the front... rather, fire swept over the panels and roared into the front carriage, sweeping over parts of the seats of the medical station, the space of the aisle just in front of the door, as well as the ammunition station... each went up in seconds, the fire crackling, snapping and popping. The force of the explosion nearly destroyed the door to the front carriage, but it just barely managed to hold on to its frame.

The force of the explosion was such, that it blasted the Pursuer clear of the train in a fiery heap. Slamming a hole through the side of the rear carriage and tumbling outside. The force, momentum and size of it smashed through a number of infected in the horde, and it slammed with a muffled groan on the metal tracks the escaping, runaway cable car was set on. Rolling over several times before laying face down and motionless, covered in shrapnel and fire. It did not rise or move... and it simply lay smoldering as the burning car faded in the distance.

The rear carriage remained connected to the front despite the explosion, and the creature was no longer a threat in that moment... but the situation was far from safe again The damage was done. As the Captain had predicted, the engine was destroyed in the blast, as well as all it was connected to... including the brakes. The cars screamed through the midst of town, almost entirely out of control already... sparks flying in its wake, and the great, looming Saint Michael Clock Tower of Northern Raccoon City was just in the distance now, and visible. Yet the cost of their journey remained the same.

There would be no stopping the train safely, now.

---

"Mikhail..."

His name... it was the first thing she managed to utter quietly, in the wake of the explosion. After she had untangled herself from the others and risen up slightly on the floor, and turned and moved away from the others as they rose. After she was sure they were still alive. Her eardrums still rang from the explosion, the screeching of the cable car on the rail and the moans outside muffled and distant, and the heat of the fire that had swept into the forward carriage washed over her... but she felt cold, even then. She didn't look back at the others right away, but could hear Carlos's groaning as he stood up behind her, gathering himself.

Again, Jill ignored it, ignored it all, rising her head and peering into the flames in front of her and the rear carriage door. Somehow, the sealed door had held... but barely, visibly bent inwardly from the explosion, rattling in the door frame. The Pursuer was gone... but so was the Captain. The four survivors had become three... and regardless of the slight victory they'd had over the creature, she did not truly feel it. What the hell had they won? Mikhail was gone. She had failed. She felt defeated within and without. Like all the others she'd tried to, she hadn't been able to save him. Protect him. Had broken her promise to him. Her fingers trembled of their own accord, and she fought within to steady them, to steady herself... but she was scarcely successful.

She rose them, and reached slowly into one of her pouches, and produced the photograph she had tucked away within, holding it up slightly in the fire light, eyes narrowing from where she knelt. In the photograph, Captain Mikhail was alive... stood with what could only be his family... his wife, an older daughter with brown hair, and two younger children, a blonde boy and little girl, in the backyard of a home... his home. Together they all smiled back at Jill... forever happy and carefree, in this photo. Mikhail was around the age he had been when he had died... it was sunny in the photo, had not been taken long ago, and he wasn't in his military uniform. Regardless of his sternness earlier... in it, he smiled, hand in hand with his wife, a beaming blonde lady. Slowly, very slowly, she shook her head, and her throat and eyes burned again, threatening to bring up the tears that she forced back... how she even still felt the desire to cry, at this point in her life, was beyond her. The cable car rumbled around her, the men gathered themselves, the fire spread slowly and burned, catching the start of the seats... but in that moment, she did not care if she herself was engulfed... it was hard to care for much of anything. All that mattered now was the promises she had made... at least, the ones she had not just broken in letting him die. Promises were all she had left.

Her eyes grew vacant, and looked exactly as she was then in her bones and in her soul. Tired. So very tired.

Carlos's joints ached from what he had done, tackling the others to the ground, and he knew he'd regret it later... but for now? No... he didn't. They were all he had left. His commanding officer was gone, and he was almost alone... certainly, the last of his unit... and for all he knew the last of all U.B.C.S. platoons dispatched to the city. It had all been for nothing now... truly nothing. He had been incapable of even evacuating his superior... and, regardless of the chain of command and age gap, he had lost another person he had considered a friend. A mentor figure. He felt numb... so very numb, like someone had dumped ice water all over his insides... and even then, that was a poor summary of what he felt. He rose unsteadily to his feet, forcing his eyes open, around the time he heard Jill utter the Captain's name sadly... and he rose, scooping up his dropped rifle by the carrying strap as he did so, and slinging it over his shoulder. He felt dizziness the moment he opened his eyes, and was forced to remain still a little longer, until the room stopped spinning with the vertigo.

He didn't know about the others, but his ear drums hurt from the grenade... and what he did know was that no matter what happened, or how long he would live... he would see Mikhail's final expression in his mind's eye. It wasn't going anywhere, like every other memory he had collected here... it would have to be ripped from him with his life. He moved his hands and arms and legs, tightened his fingers... and he breathed in a slight breath, careful to avoid much smoke inhalation. Stretching his head side to side, his neck popped slightly, the muscles, and he stood tall, surveying the damage to the train, and the area around him. First thing was first, the others. Jill knelt low in front of the fire cutting off access to the damaged door to the rear carriage... not that going down there was even an option, regardless of the Tyrant's absence. That big son of a bitch... he understood more than ever Jill's hatred of it, and contempt for Umbrella, creating such a thing for its intended goal... and the life it had robbed already. He took the time to eject the spent magazine in his rifle and replace it... despising also the helplessness he'd possessed, unable to make a difference and save Captain Mikhail from the sacrifice he had been forced into by it. Jill looked unusually calm, her pale expression blank, as she studied something in her hand... a photograph the Captain had given her. she looked out of it, as though she had walked through hell. A thousand yard stare. She wasn't alone in that... hell was all he knew here in this city. Still... she was alive, and had not collected any more scars... physically, at least.

He swiveled his eyes off to the left as he stood in the aisle, popping the fresh magazine into place, to find HUNK had already risen, but unlike him, was not standing. Rather, the Umbrella Agent was sitting back in the seat of the ammunition station, about a foot from the flames... but he did not move away from the fire, his actions more sluggish than before... like he was not yet back entirely. For the first time, Carlos realized how tired the man must have been. And God knew what pain he was repressing. Still, he moved slightly, breathed, and was in one piece, like the rest of them, his breaths audible through the gas mask. He was a tough bastard, and would walk it off... there was no doubt there. But for the moment, TMP in his lap, the agent simply pressed his back into the seat, boots on the floor, and seemed to collect himself. Looking down towards Carlos briefly, and then to Jill, watching her silently. The raging fires burning in his red reflective lenses. The three of them were alive... but for how much longer, he wasn't so sure. The train rocked harder around them, rumbled powerfully and lurched in a manner he did not like... and had more than an idea why. He had to be sure... so after reloading, hefting the rifle, he turned and moved slowly, stepping back towards the cockpit of the train on the far end. He found as he walked, he had to slow down further, each step forcing more vertigo into his dazed mind, and he had to force every step out of himself.

He didn't look back at them, the others again, not then at least... but he did stop for a moment at the, not to collect himself further, but after noting and remembering the military olive green backpack stuffed with supplies that he had gathered together... now was as good a time as any to get it on. They would be dismounting, soon... one way or another, and they needed to be ready. Grabbing the backpack by the straps, he unzipped it quickly, having spotted the train engineer hat laying off to the side of the seat, and he stuffed it inside, zipping it back up... it was his now. He wasn't sure if he was a scavenger or a looter at this point, and doubted that there was a difference.

Afterwards, he lifted the rather heavy pack and put it on, ignoring the additional weight that would slow him down... the trade off was worth it. He adjusted both of the straps and the one on his rifle, and he continued up the aisle, moving a bit quicker than before in spite of the weight... he'd carried heavier in his time, but the way the train rumbled unpleasantly made it all the more difficult to not fall over. Reaching the cockpit and keeping his balance with the help of some railings along the aisle, he stood in front of the control panel, peering out the front, cracked and bloody window. They were no longer plowing through zombies... not that there weren't plenty of them out there still visible... but what they were doing was hurdling almost out of control, sparks rising up along the tracks in front of the train... and by now, he could glimpse the Saint Michael Clock Tower growing closer. Growing taller.

He didn't pay it much heed... they were nearly at the end of the line... all the question that remained was if they would be getting there safely. He was no train operator, professional at least... but he knew enough about the situation to judge that the brakes would come in handy, about now. It was going too fast, and if it kept up, it would probably end up going off the track... they were close enough to the clock tower anyways to dismount here. Carlos grasped the brake lever and tugged at it several times... it was locked into place, and did not respond in the manner it should have been. By now, all the dazed thoughts were gone... and he found himself quite alert, and concerned, his voice rising enough to call to the others down the length of the aisle, to alert them as well to the situation. As he did so, he continued to tug quite uselessly on the brake, to no avail... the carriage only maintaining its speed, and for that matter, accelerating further gradually. A thought came to him then, the very words HUNK had warned Jill about earlier... about a grenade going off too close to the engine, shutting it down and all functions connected to it. The Tyrant was gone, but they had been thrown into the frying pan again... it just never ended, and Carlos's heart fell in his chest again. More than ever, he wanted to give up... but he did not. They had come too damn far now to, and they couldn't let Mikhail's sacrifice be for nothing.

"No! The brakes are out! Uh, guys... I really don't want to alarm you, but we have a problem! A little help up here?!"

Both Jill, from where she knelt studying the photo, and Hunk, on one of the seats, heard these chilling words and looked up and back in the direction of Carlos attempting to gain control over the cable car. And after glancing to one another, Jill's eyes remaining blank in spite of the strengthening chill, Hunk rose up to his feet suddenly with his TMP, all but bolted upright, resuming his original statue posture, rigid, alert, and not tired in the least, despite the clear toll he was going through. He turned from Jill, and as he started to march down the length of the train to the cockpit, Jill tucked back away the photograph and forced herself upright... she knew it was time to go, time to get things started... and she was ready. His words had shook her back into reality, the reality of their problem, and reminded her that it was not yet over. One problem merely leading to another. The cable car screeched on the rails, worse than before, the rumbling only growing, but she ignored it.

Yes, she was ready... at least, as ready as she could be. She turned to the burning medical station, having remembered her SPAS-12 shotgun from earlier, and she looked for it... pushing aside an empty herb pot that shattered on the ground. Finding it laying nearly in its original spot she had left it, the flames mere inches from rolling over it, as they alread had the medical kit. She grabbed its heated strap and slung it over her left shoulder, opposite the rifle and Rebecca's bag, and holding both shoulder straps firmly, she followed after Hunk down the aisle, reaching the cockpit just moments after he did, eyes darting between Hunk, Carlos with his backpack tugging away at the brake, and the control panel in front of them. Carlos was muttering and cursing under his breath as he pressed buttons and continually tugged the brake to no avail... and Jill stepped between him and Hunk, putting a hand on the young man's wrist to stop him and steady him from his developing panic. After a moment, breathing harder, he did, looking back at Jill and Hunk, as though for the answers... answers she doubted she could provide, but answers she contemplated as her eyes leap over the control panel. Possibly finding one solution.

"It's useless! Maybe there's an emergency brake? This train should have one!"

"I don't know if-

The entire train lurched then as it went shooting along the track, striking a large vehicle that had been left laying across it. Perhaps normally, the train would have knocked it aside, but with the damaged, unstable state the carriages were in from the explosions, it rocked back and forth, and both Jill and Carlos let out a startled breath as the three of them nearly fell over, grasping onto whatever objects were close by to hold themselves up. Jill wrapping an arm around Hunk's waist and the other hand snaring the overhead railing. The train shot off the tracks from the impact, tilted back and forth, crashing its corner against a building it passed and breaking off a wall of said building. For one terrifying moment... hell, the entire thing was terrifying, but for one particular moment... Jill was certain the train would tilt sideways and collapse on the road. But somehow it shook back upright... and by now, the moans in the night were gone, replaced by the awful grinding of metal, sparks flying more steadily up in front of the train windows.

No longer connected to the tracks, the train slid off along the paved road and sidewalk, sending rubble everywhere, and was moving entirely out of control towards the outer wall of the clock tower's courtyard. Towards the connecting hotel. And miraculously the three of them managed to remain upright, Jill's eyes shooting up to Carlos as he righted himself, and Hunk, who had withdrawn from her touch and moved over to the side window of the cockpit beside the conductor's side seat, standing in front of it. The train still slid fast, but a touch slower now that it was off the tracks. Even as the others gathered themselves, Jill watched numbly as the agent rose his TMP, the laser sight shining on the window. Even now, after stopping him, Carlos still tried to tug the brake as hard as he could and search for the emergency one... how this would have turned out, none of them ever found out. For Hunk took charge of the situation for all of them in that moment, and got them back on track.

He squeezed down on the trigger and shot out a burst of rounds into the window, not shattering it entirely, but weakening its integrity considerably in the frame, a trio of holes forming along with the splintering cracks that ran freely along it. Hands gripping the weapon tightly, he looked back slightly over his shoulder, to the dumbfounded mercenary, and understanding officer. Jill's eyes widened, knowing his plan before he even spoke it, nodding back at him... and she prepared herself mentally quite simply, before he spoke. She simply did it. She did not think. His muffled voice filtered out loudly, shouting over the screeching of metal across pavement.

"Fuck the emergency brake! Follow my lead! Now!"

With absolutely no hesitation, HUNK turned, and getting a running start, he dived helmet first through the window, breaking it entirely and disappearing somewhere out of sight, leaving Carlos with his jaw dropped in shock. A mere second passed in the wake of his doing so, and Jill was already running past both him and the control station without looking back, reacting quicker than he had. He watched blankly as Jill, rifle and shotgun swinging on her shoulders, dived through the same broken open window, vanishing into the night after the U.S.S. Agent. Another couple seconds passed, and Carlos got a hold of himself, releasing the brake and running towards the window... but before he could manage it, and follow suit with the others, the matter was taken forcibly out of his hands.

The front carriage shifted back and forth from side to side, creaking and groaning even louder, and he nearly fell to the ground. He was staggered by the sudden movement and momentum of the carriage and prevented from diving through the side window, while the train quite successfully plowed its front end through the outer wall of the courtyard and he whirled around on the spot, staring out the front window. And he knew then it was late for him... far too late to escape with them to safety. He uttered a great scream, his sheer terror overtaking him where he stood and releasing its self as a blinding light washed over him, and he raised his arms over his face uselessly to protect himself. It was all he had left. All he could do now. It was his turn... that was his last thought as the train crashed. His turn to follow not the others, but in the wake of his Captain.

"NO!"