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.

20. Chapter 19: Saint Michael Clock Tower

evolution-500: Thank you kindly, as the protagonist I had to put poor Jill through hell, and will continue to... all three of them, really. It was vital for the ending, and them coming out of this story different people, not entirely, but everything that happens will matter. Nothing will be the same for them, or for the world after Raccoon City is nuked. I wanted to flesh out the character development process of everyone involved. Jill, a member of Anti Umbrella, forced to choose between a bioweapon that could kill millions, billions, or one faceless goon for the company she hates who has displayed some humanity. Has hooked her feelings and empathy without trying to. Inner conflict, the moral thing vs the logical thing, even when the logical thing is also moral and the moral thing is also selfish of her, choosing a man she is coming to care for over the safety of the world. As you say, lose lose situation. But also a win win situation. Just have to wait and see how it all pans out.

LuckyNumber1: It won't quite be three days, but most of the story will technically, roughly take place over roughly 3 days, the evening of September 28th to the morning of October 1st. And the story will continue afterwards for a time, for the ending. I can't spoil all your speculation for how the story will turn out, details, but it pleases me you are so invested in it that you are doing so. Keep with the story, you'll get your answers ;).

Akira-Hayama: Thank you kindly. I wanted to weave together the environment with seeing through the character's eyes and their thought process, create immersion. It's probably played hell with the time as I portray it passing, the pacing, the clock at the start of each chapter or section I think needs it, but it is necessary for telling the story, fleshing out the story and characters. Can't just have them just rushing from place to place all the time, there wouldn't be any time to get into their heads and realize their personalities and characters.

I wanted Carlos to be more than the comedic relief, he is another valuable angle to the story, a point of view, and important to the HUNK and Jill dynamic, the three of them. He's not quite the veteran, experienced soldier the remake portrays him as, but I can see him heading that direction one day. He's still young and enthusiastic, but his experiences will weather him in Raccoon City. Nobody is leaving the city unscathed.

Indeed so, Jill needs an existential conflict to face, an internal one, like the external one she faces from the Nemesis. Forced to confront a painful ethical situation where nobody really wins, where her own morals feel like bile in her throat. Her and HUNK will face great struggles within and without, in the process of their character development. HUNK's internal threat is similar, trying to realize his identity, who he is, rediscover his humanity, while his external threat is Nikolai.

As for HUNK's face, it's already out there, it's no mystery. The epilogue file picture for HUNK aboard NIGHTHAWK's helicopter in the original Resident Evil 3, anyone can go Google it if they are curious. I don't think focusing on how he looks is really important, apart from tying into Jill's curiosity of him. At his life at Umbrella everyone knows what he looks like without a gas mask, there is no secret in universe. I like the idea of Jill not getting to see the full humanity of his face, and having to read it through his actions, armor and mask, empathize with a faceless, secretive man and see something more in him than the people who see his face all the time do. Understand him better than the others who take him for granted, or see him only in terms of the stories told about him, legend.

Much appreciated as ever.

Arkham Knight: Jill needed to confront conflict and turmoil within, develop over the course of the story. Pulled between her duty and her feelings. As it is with many characters. The human heart in conflict with its self. She is in a terrible situation with stakes and consequences, as they all are, and morality can be difficult, especially in a lose lose situation. Her decision will have ramifications, as all of them do. I wanted her to have to confront her hatred for Umbrella by juxtaposing it with her being a police officer, trying to enforce justice. A single man in a company she hates changing things for her, giving her ethical difficulty. Not being what she expected him to be. What part of her wishes he was, to make her decisions easy. Somehow a faceless man is contradicting her dehumanization of Umbrella, showing that even in a corporation like them there is some humanity. It was a way for me to access and open up her character more, question her, as I do HUNK... they are making each other confront some part of themselves, I am intertwining the two together gradually.

Rock992: That really means a lot, thank you, especially to be considered professional. Those later games in the series did indeed get bogged down steadily, there were many great ideas and concepts in them, potential, but it never really got realized. Just became typical action hero schlock, lost the horror and superb storytelling and characters. I think Capcom is making the same mistake again, after the heavily actionized Resident Evil 3 remake, and jumping straight to a Resident Evil 4 remake already, stupidly ignoring a vital game like Code Veronica. A pity. My only agenda is to tell a good story and portray the characters as they are, or at least my best approximation of them. I don't inject my own personal politics into everything like many do now, don't try to force anyone to agree with me, or the characters, just get into the heads of characters and show how they tick to me. Break down their flaws and strengths. Let you decide if you like them or not. I'm trying to tell a story as it is, however it is received.

I can't answer exactly how the hospital situation will play out, we'll get there and you'll see. Though I will say I mostly stuck to the original RE 3 but add and expand upon it more than I divert from it. I am trying to be as faithful as possible, but adding more, filling out the universe a bit more.

HUNK as I see him is between 30 and 32 years old as of the events of Resident Evil 3, 1998. You decide. The exact year isn't a big deal to me, just somewhere in that range. Older, experienced, been with Umbrella Security Service for years, seen and done a lot of shit, grew a legend around himself, but not old yet. In his prime. Though of course feels ancient inside, an old soldier before his time. He had to grow up fast, after certain experiences, when he became an agent. Trauma, abandonment, etc. More about him and his background and chronology will of course be fleshed out going forward, along the way. Though not everything. Just what I think is important for the story and characters.

400roc: Thank you kindly, I agree HUNK is being wasted, always has been, yet they keep bringing him back because they know his popularity. I see him more as a shiny object Capcom waves in front of fans who want him to be done justice, given a fleshed out character, only there to tease fans. Every other character pretty much has been fleshed out, done to death, and still HUNK isn't given his due. I am pleased to finally be the first to really be tapping into his character potential, crafting something for him... it was about time someone did. And I am pleased others understand and enjoy what I'm trying to do here. Few things more annoying to me than wasted potential in a character.

Thank you all for the reviews, as ever. Back to our beleaguered heroes, and the clock tower:

---

September 28th, 1998, 11:05 PM.

Main Hall, Saint Michael Clock Tower, Northern Raccoon City.

The door closed with a snap behind them, the sound echoing throughout the entirety of the main hall lobby of the clock tower, along with their respective boots tapping on the mixed brown and light tile floor. Recognizing with relief that that no monsters awaited them, Jill began to look around the place, examining it closely from where she stood. The sheer scale of the place took her away from her thoughts briefly, and from her pain... it had been too long since she had taken the tour of the place... she'd been in high school, she remembered. A gawky little teenager. Standing where she was it felt like a fresh, entirely new experience altogether. She nearly whistled to herself at the impressive view. She had to admit, it was one hell of a landmark in Raccoon City. The hall was vast and open, and could easily accommodate a horde of people... or zombies, for that matter. Thankfully that wasn't the case. It was richly designed and decorated, and from what she had seen earlier in the other rooms, this was not altogether a surprise... the owner having been quite wealthy... both the original one and Umbrella's investments into the building. One of the company's better contributions, she supposed... though done only for their public image, not for love of the city or its history.

The main hall contained many ornate and prestigious furniture and light fixtures in the area, as well many stone pillars and archways around the edges of the room. Beyond said archways were various elaborate paintings, of figures long past, or places, each undoubtedly over a century old. There were different light fixtures illuminating the different sections of the place, some hanging on the walls or pillars, others closer to the ground, in the form of large cast iron candle holders, or attached to railings. From where they stood, in the eerie silence of the main hall, there was a great pair of metal double doors with odd floral patterns that resembled roses... the doors on a path to the west side of the room, just opposite the main staircase. Whether they led outside, or to another section of the clock tower, Jill could not be certain, but they were not the only doors in the first floor hall.

Further down to the north, at the far end of the hall, beneath an archway and partially obscured by one of the stone column was another pair of tall doors, albeit these particular ones wooden, like the door they had just come through. Jill's eyes passed on, to the center of the hall, examining the surface of the tiled floor to find a strange pattern etched into the ground, taking up a great deal of space. A long wooden table with a flower pot on it blocked out some of it to her sights... but it didn't take her long to discern the details of a clock, one that had seemingly been mixed together with a sun, each of the twelve points resembling a beam of sunlight. Some of the tiling among the lighter tiles was brown, and deliberately so to add to the designs of the room, a small patch up it leading to the false clock, and the more she studied it, the more it resembled a cross of sorts the clock was sitting on.

The design reminded her of the large RCPD badge emblazoned on the floor of the department's main hall, just in front of the fountain and statue. Though in this case, the clock design was positioned off to the left of the main staircase, that Jill examined just as closely as everything else. The staircase was made of dark marble, and had two long oak banisters running up either side to the second floor. Yet, it was each of the banister posts at the bottom of each side that drew in her focus more than the stairs themselves... for atop each was a white stone statue, comprising of the upper body of a man, each holding a light orb in their hands... and sure enough, actual light filtered out of them, the design intriguing Jill. Her eyes swept on gradually to the last section of the hall, to the second floor balcony, most of it obscured, other than a few more stone pillars around the walkway, and some blue tinted stain glass windows among the stone walls.

All in all... despite how impressive it was... Jill was reminded of the place that haunted her memory the worst. The Spencer Mansion. The last place she wanted to be again, yet here she was, the sole difference being that it had a slightly different floor. She did not belong here, in this place... the cold air reeked of death, and tension... not the least of it due to the fact that, as her eyes swept on, she spotted near the far end of the hall. Just past the long wooden table of the clock design in the floor, the body Carlos had warned her about lie. A dead, bloodied mercenary lay face down in his familiar green, black and tan uniform and body armor. Situated between a couple of the pillars, most of his form visible even from the opposite end of the hall they stood on due to the cast iron candle holder he had fallen beside. She could see some objects around it, but from her distance could not figure out any particulars.

She looked over to Hunk carefully, who was still studying the hall... but he glanced back in her direction after a few moments, and inclined his head, again making a gesture for her to lead on. Jill looked back ahead in the direction of the fallen mercenary, and she started across the center of the hall, her boots pattering across the tile and continuing to echo. Hunk followed silently after her, his laser sight seeping across the area, at least until the red dot rested on the corpse further on, just in case. Jill moved past both the staircase and table, her shadow leaping around the hall with every light she went by, until she stood over the mercenary, peering down at him, investigating the scene. She, like Hunk, kept her weapon trained on the corpse, particularly after what had happened back in the library. Thankfully, based on the hole in the back of his head, the thick blood soaking his hair, she found she needn't have worried, and reluctantly lowered her Samurai Edge.

Not far behind his body, she glimpsed a shell casing on the floor... one she had seen enough times to not require picking it up to examine. A pistol shell. 9×19mm Parabellum. Though no pistol remained close by. The corpse looked at least a few hours old, based on her insight and training, but not many details could be made out over what he had looked like in life. The gunshot had come from the back of the head, she was certain. Whatever had happened, he had not done this to himself, and didn't seem to have been infected. Her attention turned back to his arms, and to the objects and weapon that had fallen with him. Jill crouched down to one knee, away from the blood pool beneath his body. While Hunk stood off to the side, to her right, weapon down in one hand, and watching her carefully.

"What the hell is this?"

Jill murmured more to herself than to him, her eyes went to the weapon... a larger thing... the metal a dark tint, and in many ways it resembled some kind of assault rifle, with a stock, sights, shoulder strap, a grip and foregrip. Yet she knew from the six shot cylinder spinning reloading wheel, like that on a magnum or any other revolver, though far larger... that it was no such damn thing. She took it up in both hands, tucking away her pistol, and holding the surprisingly light weapon in both hands by the grips. Tilting and turning it over, examining the large trigger... she could say with genuine honesty that for all the weapons she had fired and trained with in her time, she had never seen this one in her life. Other than the assault rifle and magnum resembling components, its sleek surface had glowing buttons on it at various points... it honestly looked like something that had come from a laboratory, an experimental weapon of sorts. High tech. Her eyes moved up from marveling the weapon, and up to where Hunk stood, to find him studying the weapon as curiously as she was... and considering it was him, that was saying something. After a silent moment, he tucked away his TMP and extended his hand down in her direction.

"Give that to me for a moment."

"If you insist, big guy.", Jill smirked a little faintly, raising the odd weapon for him to take as she rose back to her feet. When he had the weapon, he held it the same way she had, by the grip and foregrip, in both hands, turning it over and examining it. Even without an expression, or change in the tone of his voice, she could tell his distinct interest in it. She put her gloved hands on her waist as she waited somewhat impatiently... and when he continued to say and explain nothing, she cleared her throat and spoke up again. "Well? What do you think it is?"

"There is no 'think' about it, Valentine. I know what it is. I was merely not expecting to encounter one here. Not among common mercenaries."

The U.S.S. Agent replied calmly, muffled tone echoing slightly within the hall. He tapped a button on the side of the weapon, and the cylinder extended out the side of it, and he made a half turn, to show her the six contents within. She stepped closer to examine it, to find that it was loaded with six cartridges... each larger than that of a shotgun shell. Her eyes widened a little with curiosity and intrigue, and she pursed her lips as he explained the weapon he was so obviously familiar with. His fingers worked the weapon expertly, and from one of the six slots he pulled out one of the cartridges showing it to her as well. It almost resembled a larger shotgun shell, the surface being red... but towards the top, instead of a brass casing, was a strange black rubber surface, with a metallic point poking through... a dart of sorts. It, like its weapon, was unlike anything she had ever seen before. Finding herself bewildered but intrigued.

"This is my Quartermaster's area of expertise though. He has all the tech answers. One minute."

Jill was startled by his words, more so than the weapon... him openly contacting his contacts in front of her for the first time. She remained silent and watchful as the agent rose a hand to his mask. Activating his radio and selecting the proper comm channel. Once he had, his muffled voice spoke into it.

"QUARTERMASTER... come in. This is HUNK."

There was a pause on the line for a moment. To be expected, he likely wasn't expecting the call. Though being in his lab all the time, and on the support team, it wasn't long before he picked up.

"Well it's about bloody time, Agent HUNK.", The posh, English accented, familiar voice on the other end spoke in his ear with audible relief. Unheard to Jill. The agent looking over and watching her simultaneously. "Where the hell have you been? Carla was getting worried sick, cooped up on the medical deck without a word from you. I can practically hear her pacing the deck from down here."

"Her? Or you?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Agent HUNK. I am not one of your young fawning feminine admirers, I daresay. The only thing I'm sick over is that broken helmet camera of yours... and God knows the damage you've inflicted on that body armor, suit and the rest of your equipment. Is it so hard to keep all your gear intact for a change?"

"Another time, QUARTERMASTER. Not what I called for. Valentine and I found a Mine Thrower in the field, being used by a member of the U.B.C.S.'s Echo Team. We've reached the clock tower extraction point."

"A Mine Thrower? In the hands of a U.B.C.S. mercenary? Goodness. I'm glad you called. What can I do for you?"

"Valentine has never seen one before. She is curious about the specifics. Figured you could be of some assistance there. More in depth than my own knowledge."

"Well put her on, then. I'm certainly not one to turn down educating an amateur, if she is willing to listen and to learn. I shall of course mind my words, give away nothing classified. This is under your authority granted by Lord Spencer for the duration of Operation NESTWRECKER, I take it? Your responsibility?"

"Yes. I'll link our comm channels. You can explain it to her better than I can.", HUNK spoke again, looking over to Jill once more and nodding. Voice speaking up to her. "Turn on your radio, Valentine."

"It already is."

"Good. A moment."

Jill watched him from where she was with interest, surprise, barely believing what he was doing even as he was doing it. Watching as he keyed up their frequencies with his helmet's radio technology, while 'Quartermaster' did the same on his end. When the link was established, Hunk turned back to her and nodded assuredly.

"Go ahead, Valentine. Speak freely."

"Uh... hello?", Jill spoke into her radio more than a little tentatively. Feeling her heart beating quicker as she looked back to his red lenses. Attempting to keep a cool in her voice. "Is someone there?"

"Hello, young lady. You may refer to me as QUARTERMASTER.", His voice issued audibly from the radio on her strap at once, echoing slightly where they stood. It was a posh voice with an English accent, not at all what she was expecting. A voice alone from the outside startled her. "Agent HUNK mentioned the two of you have found an experimental weapon? It happens to fall under my field of expertise. And under his authority he has granted you access to receive clarification on it."

"Yes... Quartermaster.", Jill returned with a slight smile, looking back over to the watchful, silent agent. Feeling her heart beat quicker... as he seemed to draw her a bit closer into his world. Even as she felt dread to be speaking with another at Umbrella... that they knew she was still alive, and here... knew anything about her... something about it touched her. Another way he surprised her from nowhere. Dropping another layer of his armor. Trusting her with this. "He said it was a Mine Thrower? I've never seen this weapon in my life. Never even heard of it."

"I should certainly hope not. Now, pay attention then, Miss Valentine. I will go over this only once. The name alone should be enough, but to indulge you, I will elaborate. It's a prototype design, straight from Umbrella's Armament Department... Agent HUNK trained with it before. A reasonable number were made when the kinks were worked out after the testing process, but it's still awaiting finalization. It has yet to be mass produced, or brought out into the field as part of a standard kit... until now, I suppose. The company was waiting on potential buyers... last I heard a number of military branches around the world were interested. Each cartridge possesses a motion sensor on it, and it will automatically home in on the closest moving target... or otherwise go straight, as any other weapon would. When the shell is fired, it rips away the outer layer of the cartridge, that red section of it you see, and activates the sensor, hidden away in the dart."

As he spoke, Hunk continued turning the Mine Thrower over in his hands, examining it. Moving over closer to him, she did the same, examining the weapon. He handed the shell he was also holding over to her to inspect. Each of their gloved fingers brushing against one another's during the transfer. Jill looked up into her reflection in his lenses, watching her pale, bruised face smiling. Listening intently to the information the tech expert on the line offered up freely. Information Hunk was allowing her to receive.

"At that point the rubber around it peals away, it homes in on its target and embeds its self within them. After a few second delay, no more than a grenade, giving you enough time to take cover if need be, it detonates... to about the same yield as a 40MM shell. This is the regular version of the weapon's darts... unfortunately. Still more than useful, of course, but enhanced Mine Thrower darts would have been welcome. The difference is, there is more than one explosive device within those particular darts... it can home in on and destroy multiple targets, exploding one layer in one target, then in another, and another. Its sensor can be attuned to release the shells into any part of the target's body... limbs, head... it makes no difference. Unlike this one as well, enhanced rounds are also heat seekers. Which expand strategic options. "

"You're joking.", Jill replied into the channel after a long pause, a little numbly, her light incredulous smile returning. Considering the sudden wealth of information. She shook her head slowly, considering his explanation further. She turned over the shell in her hand a bit more and held it up, studied it a bit closer in the light, brushing her finger over the tip, before looking sideways back into the reflection of his lenses. "A little thing like this can do all that? What is this, a James Bond movie?"

"I never joke about my work, Miss Valentine.", Quartermaster's tone responded coolly, though not unkindly. "One in my area simply cannot afford to. That's why I make the big bucks."

"I think that will be enough for now.", Hunk spoke up over the line at last, looking back over to the startled officer. "If we encounter any more tech or weaponry like this, we'll give you another call."

"Understood, Agent HUNK. Miss Valentine... a pleasure to meet you. If over the radio."

"You as well, Quartermaster. Thank you for the run down on the weapon. We'll put it to good use, if we have to."

"I should certainly hope so.", The English accented voice chuckled over the line. "Before I forget. Agent HUNK, you are to ring your Doctor up at the first possible opportunity. The dear girl simply will not let up on me or NIGHTHAWK, among others. Kindly put us all out of our misery over here."

"So NIGHTHAWK told me. You too, huh? Tell her I will when I can. We need to keep moving for now to the new extraction point. When I get to the evacuation chopper, I will call."

"God willing, you'll be back here for a good nagging from her post haste, then. At any rate, good luck to you both. Oh, and one more thing Miss Valentine... do get our intrepid field agent out of there in one piece, will you? He never knows when to quit."

"I can tell. Stubborn piece of work, this one.", Jill spoke back into the line, eyes dancing with amusement in the reflection of the agent's lenses. "It's pretty endearing though."

"Don't be so sure about that. The stories I could tell you if they weren't classified."

"That will do, QUARTERMASTER. We have an extraction to attend to.", Hunk spoke up again then, clearing his throat over the line. Jill had to force herself to resist a laugh. "And you have other duties to attend to as well."

"A stick in the mud, as ever."

"I will look after this one, Quartermaster.", Jill promised, cutting in on the line defiantly, feeling her lips quirk, while Hunk's hand tightened down at his side, clearly irritated by the voice on the line. Watching her. She smirked his way, raising a brow, finding her amusement wasn't abating. "We're almost there anyways. I have him this close to the finish line already."

"There's a girl. You've found yourself a keeper there, Agent HUNK. I believe I already prefer her to a certain other young woman. Less frigid. Doesn't butcher the English language either. QUARTERMASTER out."

The line went back into silence all at once, and Jill looked over to HUNK with curiosity and amusement. The agent merely shook his head sheepishly and severed the communications channel between the three of them. Making sure Valentine would not be able to reach it again, unless he created the link himself. When he had, he looked back to Jill, who was looking back at him with silent interest... perhaps taken off guard by what he had just shared with her. It was only fair... he had surprised himself in doing so as well. Though he could imagine Q and the rest of the tech team laughing over the exchange aboard the Leviathan. And knew he wasn't going to hear the end of it the next time he went down to the tech labs. Before she could ask about the 'certain other young woman' HUNK moved her attention on. He took the shell back from her fingers at once, and inserted it back into the empty chamber, before tapping the button on the side again. The cylinder whirred, along with some other mechanical parts within the weapon, and it slid and locked back into place inside safely. His low voice speaking up again to her through the mask.

"The shells in this Mine Thrower are not the same as those in its enhanced counterpart. Won't be long before the rounds are modified further, come mass production, like grenade shells. I have trained with advanced experimental weaponry like this myself. Brought them on missions with me. Rounds for this are hard to come by... if we ever do find any more around here, so conservation would be of the essence. Don't shoot anything unless you know you are going to hit it."

"You know it all, don't you? Seen it all.", Jill observed bemusedly, eyeing him closely, her smile not even flickering. Although his tone and manner had barely changed as he had spoken about the weapon... it had changed slightly, and for him that spoke eons about him. He liked his work, and weapons, about as much as she did. She held her hand out to take it back from him, raising a brow. "Especially where Umbrella is concerned. Or know someone who does. We're lucky to have it, then. I'd like to be the one to use it, if you don't mind. You had your turn already."

"I know enough. Seen enough."

Hunk corrected her absently as he finished studying the weapon, turning over the Mine Thrower and passing it off to her reluctantly. The moment she took it and cradled it close, he slipped his hand back into his belt and removed the holstered TMP, keeping it down by his side. He took a step forward, closer to her side, and looked past her, examining the corpse of the fallen U.B.C.S. mercenary. Cocking his head slightly as he did so.

"Or almost enough. On the other hand, what a U.B.C.S. thug was doing armed with one, when my own team was not... is an answer I cannot provide you. And one I would like to know. I have theories... but little more than that. I'll have to look into it."

"Never let anyone or anything slip by you, do you?"

"Where do you get that impression?"

"Possibly right around the time you ambushed me at the police department.", She suggested with a risen brow his way, shrugging her bare shoulders mildly. "Locking your arm around my neck and placing a knife over my heart. Could have just let me pass... like you could have not intervened with the Tyrant... but you didn't, did you?"

"Good point. Didn't get this far on a battlefield by ignoring every factor. Better to be prepared for the unexpected."

"Perhaps. We've seen stranger things tonight than a heavily armed mercenary, and the night is still young, Secret Agent Man. Well, relatively at least."

Jill noted with a nod of agreement, finishing up her examination, and slinging the Mine Thrower over her free shoulder where it hung loosely. She began studying the corpse as closely as Hunk was, pursing her lips and deep in thought. In truth, she ironically did not know the time... in a clock tower, but she doubted it was quite morning yet. And they had yet to hear the chimes of the clock tower reaching midnight, a sound most of the town was capable of hearing nightly. As far as the matter of the mercenary's advanced armament, she didn't have a clue, nor did she find it as pressing as the agent seemed to. It was probably a company matter anyways. She was just glad to have the weapon for herself now. She intended to put it to good use when the time came. If necessary.

"Who knows? You might get lucky before we get out of here. Or afterwards, and figure it out."

"One can hope, Valentine. We have other priorities just now."

Hunk replied to her shortly, at last taking his eyes off the fallen mercenary, instead peering off to the side. Jill followed his gaze to find him staring over at a finely kept oak desk they had not seen earlier near the base of the staircase, each of its drawers closed. Its smooth surface was illuminated by two small lamps with green shades, and there was a rolled up piece of paper in the center of it, along with a rather familiar looking white bottle with a green medical symbol on its label. He half turned back her way, after taking a step towards the desk, and spoke, his tone no different than before, gesturing to the mercenary, changing the topic.

"While you are of the scavenging frame of mind, you would do well to recover that box of shells at his side. And check his hand, he has something in it. I'll be doing some scavenging of my own. Join me when you are done."

Without waiting for a response from her, he turned the rest of the way and moved assuredly over towards the desk, stopping in front of it to examine the bottle. His eyes quickly moved on to the rolled up paper, and setting his modified TMP on the surface of the desk, he unrolled the paper, spreading it out. He leaned over it intently, clearly having found something else of interest. After a few moments, Jill looked away from him and to the mercenary's side to examine the other items on his person. Jill had almost forgotten about the shotgun rounds, in her utter fascination with the Mine Thrower... and she crouched back down to the corpse's side, reluctantly shifting his body aside slightly so she could get at the shells. She pealed it open, exposing two dozen red shells within, each tipped familiarly in brass.

Another pleased smile formed, and she unslung the SPAS-12, and began to individually load eight shells into the reloading chamber above the trigger guard, tipping the shotgun to the side as she did so. When eight of the twenty four shells were loaded, she grasped the underside and pumped the Shotgun hard, relishing silently in the power that radiated through her at the sound that echoed through the hall. She glanced back at Hunk, but he remained as immersed as ever in the paper he had recovered, and didn't even look up at the sound. Jill marveled at the beautiful shotgun... pleased at long last to have it loaded and armed... and she took the remaining sixteen shells and slipped them into some of the slots on her bandolier. Most of the slots remained empty... but unlike the Mine Thrower, shells would likely prove far more accessible for it. In the meantime, every shot would have to count.

Leaving the shell box empty where it lay, Jill slung the SPAS-12 and turned her attention to the other item... or rather items of curiosity, as it turned out, clenched in the fallen mercenary's left hand. She leaned in closer, hovering over his arm, and reached down, taking her wrist into his gloved hand, turning it over. He had been holding some kind of mostly obscured paper in a death grip, before he'd died, and it took some doing to pry his fingers off. As his thumb fell to the side, however, something else entirely drew in her interest. The paper fell to the side, but so did something golden, round and metal, that clanked against the ground and nearly rolled forward, instead falling like a dropped coin. She plucked it off the ground, wiping off some of the blood on it with her glove, more appreciative than ever to be wearing them now. The last thing she needed was potentially infected blood on her skin.

Jill examined it carefully in the candlelit, pursing her lips together unconsciously. It was a golden gear of some kind with eight jagged corners... not very big, but it wasn't small either. She turned it over a few times, glancing between it and the mercenary with uncertainty. What he had been doing with such a thing in his possession, and in a grip so tight, she didn't understand... nor where he had found it, and why... but she had more than a passing feeling he wouldn't have had it with him if it wasn't important in some way. She certainly had no intention of parting with it, not until she knew what it was meant for. She kept it in the palm of her glove, and turned her attention to the papers he had been clutching. There were some dried blood stains on the pages, but not enough to prevent her from being able to comprehend the words. In the eerie stillness of the main hall, she read it silently... a report of some kind, written short and straight to the point, like most Umbrella related documents she recovered.

Operation Instruction

Order for U.B.C.S. Echo Team:

Wipe out the Downtown area of the infestation and then evacuate the remaining citizens to the clock tower. Among the civilians, remember to give priority to the employees of Umbrella's affiliates. Remember to stay alert because the infected have a high endurance rate and will strike without hesitation. Mutations are also probable threats.

Evacuation Procedure:

1. Once the mission is complete, or when it becomes too impossible to accomplish, evacuate immediately.

2. We'll deploy a helicopter that is waiting in the suburbs, to the courtyard in front of the clock tower.

3. When you are ready for evacuation, ring the bell of the clock tower to signal the helicopter.

Jill read the operation report over and over, turning the papers over to look for anything else of importance... but nothing else proved as important as the evacuation procedure... particularly number three. So, that was it... somewhat clever, she had to admit, if clandestine. The obvious thing to do would be firing a flare, or using their radios... instead the company had gone with another method few would think of. For whatever reason, there was something about this Echo Team that rubbed her the wrong way... the secretive nature of their operation, similar to, though not quite as top secret and obviously important as Hunk's mission. She wasn't even surprised that Umbrella affiliates and employees would be given preferential treatment over other civilians... it was just like the company... she knew that perfectly, but it didn't keep her eyes from narrowing as she had read it. Always with their callous self interest... it would never change.

Knowing them, they had already evacuated a great deal of key Umbrella personnel before things went from bad to worse... like the staff at the sales office Downtown. Far be it from them to lose key personnel that could potentially earn them further profits. More than ever, she felt discomfort toward the U.B.C.S... Carlos was not like this... he was the kind of man to help everyone. Mikhail had struck her the same way... there was no way all of them had been like Nikolai, was there? The concept seemed ludicrous... all could not be lumped into one category in a war... as this now was... but nevertheless, between what she had seen of Nikolai, and these cold selfish orders... how many of the mercenaries were willing goons of the company, and how many disagreed with them? Or were most of them simply misled? What had this man with his Mine Thrower been? On his way to save someone? Helping civilians? Running away to save himself? Or following his orders?

She nor anyone else would ever know... but the least she could know was his name. Her eyes lowered from his bloodied head, and down to his neck, noting the dog tags around them. She supposed Carlos had been in too much of a hurry to find her and Hunk that he'd missed them on the way by... no matter, she'd get them to him later, they had plenty of time to spare. Jill reached over and disconnected the necklace holding the tags, bringing them up to her eyes and turning them over, the imprinting in the metal flashing out at her in the light moments later.

Campbell

John J.

Captain, United States Army Special Forces

Service #82278

Blood Type: A-Positive

D.O.B.: March 7, 1952

Former U.S Special Forces, Green Berets... Jill was not unimpressed. It showed, considering how far he had managed to get, how close to escaping. Umbrella certainly did recruit men from all over, each of them with experience. Criminal pasts or not. She studied the tags a little longer, before at last tucking them out of sight in one of her pockets, and examining both the document and golden gear again. At last, she rose back up to her feet, and peered over sideways to Hunk, where he remained exactly where he had been, right down to his stance, studying the spread out paper he had found. She crossed the length of the floor between herself and Hunk, stepping away from the body and moving over to his side. The moment she reached it, she dropped the report down in front of him, on top of the pages he was poring over, and obscuring them, taking his attention at once. She said nothing, merely smiled faintly when he looked her way, and she gestured to the papers for him to read. He remained as quiet as before, and indeed looked back to the report, taking it up in both hands, and exposing the sheets he had been reading before her arrival.

As Hunk read the report as she had done, Jill took a look at the unrolled paper on the desk, illuminated in the light, and Jill's hands lowered to it, pulling it closer to where he resided in front of the table. It was a map... thank God, the last thing they needed was to get lost in this place... they could figure out where to go. The map was comprised of three sections, each smaller than the last in quantity of rooms, and each room was labelled, as well as every door... though in the case of every door, it was marked yellow. The first section of the map read Clock Tower 1F... and indeed, it had the bedroom, living room and library marked down, places she had already been, including the main hall they stood in now. Other rooms on this level comprised of the dining room in the door just adjacent of the desk they stood in front of, and beyond that a piano room and a chapel. Every room on the map was bordering around the spacious main courtyard that Carlos had mentioned crashing through earlier.

There were only two other rooms on this particular level, each beyond the strange door in the library she had found... and each by extension of little importance, comprising of a corridor and clock room. The name of the room interested her slightly, though not as much as the door marked on the far end of said clock room. There was no marked room beyond this point... if she had to guess, it led back out into Raccoon City, somewhere. Her eyes moved across the page, studying it again, before lowering down to the second section marked on the map. Clock Tower 2F. In this instance, there were only two rooms on the map, comprising of the main hall's second floor, and a balcony outside.

There was some black marking on the balcony, designating an apparent ladder there... that led subsequently to the third section marked Clock Tower 3F. There was only one room comprising the highest point in the clock tower... and this was of no particular surprise. It was a room marked Machinery/Cog Room... and above all, this particular one intrigued her the most. Her hand tightened around the golden gear again, and she looked down at it slowly... it didn't take her much to start to gather the importance of the gear, and more than a few ideas related to it... but just as her mind picked up this stream of thought, Hunk finished reading the report, setting it back down on top of the table and map, and studying each slowly, looking between them. Jill's eyes moved sideways to his mask... and perhaps sensing this, he finally looked over to her. She spoke up first, her tone quiet and even, yet still slightly echoing in the open space of the main hall.

"Well?", Jill inquired slowly, raising a slight eyebrow. She moved her free hand not holding the gear at her side on to her hip, maintaining eye contact. "What do you think?"

"I think... and know, that Echo Team failed in its mission."

Hunk's low, cool tone responded without hesitation, speaking up again as though he had turned off a mute button on himself. The aura of often perpetual silence lifting its self. He had struck her from the start as a leader type, and hadn't been surprised to discover he was one. He had that aura, and capability... but seemed to speak only when it came time to issue orders, or cooperate with his allies and speak of the mission. Anything outside the mission was another story... often seeming a robot on automatic, but not really living, waiting to carry out its prime directive again, whereupon only then it seemed some life flitted into his being. Apart from those gaps in his armor... as few and far between as they were. She was wondering if they were mirages... things she was hallucinating. But that call to his Quartermaster had been real. Including her in an aspect of his life without the mask. Hearing a couple details of it. She continued listening to him closely as he spoke.

"I also know that I am not surprised by such an outcome. That we will not be making the same mistake. Their method of signalling an evacuation via the clock tower was both intelligent and stupid simultaneously... were it a more expected typical U.B.C.S. operation, normal radio contact would have been utilized for signalling an evacuation. This Echo Team may have been utilized differently then the majority of the U.B.C.S. detachment Umbrella sent. It reeks of covert operations. Of secrecy. There was more to their mission than listed here in this order sheet."

"You would know, wouldn't you?", Jill asked wryly, most certainly not expecting much in the way of a response... and she wasn't surprised when he didn't. She rose the golden gear in the palm of her hand and exposed it to him, his eyes lowering to the glinting, valuable metal that lay there, and she moved onward. "You're right. It does... and it bothers me too. Like many other things, as of late. Here, take a look at this too, I found it on the mercenary. A man named Campbell, according to his dog tags."

"I knew of Campbell. Capable, for a member of the U.B.C.S. A Captain. What is this he was holding?"

"He had it in a death grip, along with the report. It must have been of some importance... related to the clock tower, and the signalling."

"Yes. That would be the likeliest of answers.", Hunk agreed, and he plucked it from her palm and began to study it in the light, turning it over slowly. Jill watched him watch the gear, and she crossed her arms absently, pondering the matter more carefully as he did the same, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You've studied the map. It would be foolish of me to suggest we are not thinking along the same lines right now. Where we must go to get the evacuation under way."

"Straight up. The machinery room."

"As soon as possible. The longer we delay, the likelier it is the infected have found the helicopter and pilot in the suburbs. Depending on how well it is hidden, and if it has not already been compromised. Nor is this building safe, even if this hall currently is."

The U.S.S. Agent informed her, studying the gear only a few more moments, before passing it back over to Jill, who took it at once. His lenses rose back up to her, and she watched herself in them Gradually, as he spoke, the lenses drifted over to Campbell's body where it lay not far from them, watching it with the same interest he had the gear.

"I do not understand why U.B.C.S. Command would arrange for such a foolish method of contact. My best guess is that the gear Campbell recovered belongs to the mechanism that activates the signal... and that it was hidden somewhere in the clock tower. Without it, he and any others would have been stranded. He and any survivors of his team must have had to tear the place apart... and in the end, it did not make a difference for them. They died in the process of recovery... another unnecessary puzzle, that cost only time and lives. U.B.C.S. Command was unlikely to have foreseen such an obstacle. Nobody but the clock tower's owner could have known. I will never understand this town, and its utter fascination with being more complicated than is required."

"You got us there. I can vouch for that.", Jill smiled a sad, thin lipped smile, as she watched the mercenary's body with Hunk. She sighed quietly, and gradually, her eyes moved back over to the side of Hunk's mask. "I've been here far longer than you... and after all these years I still don't get it, or most of the people who had lived around here. Though to be fair, you're pretty complicated yourself. Would fit right in here. Mean that as a compliment of course."

"It makes no difference now... regardless of Campbell's failure to escape, there is a positive side to his failure.", Hunk replied calmly, ignoring her remark, taking his own eyes off the blood soaked man and returning them to Jill. Elaborating his thoughts for her. "He spared us of one hell of a headache... I did not want to spend what little of the night remained, nor the morning, undertaking another scavenger hunt. If we are in agreement, I would suggest we proceed to the top of the clock tower and install the gear, activate the signal. If we hurry, we should be out of the city by midnight. Sound good?"

"Sounds too good to be true, to tell you the truth."

Jill admitted, her smile tired, and already faded away. She drew in a steady breath, and she looked around the main hall again, to their fanciful surroundings... and as well furnished as the place was... if she had to see it all again, stay here longer... it would be too soon. She did not need the reminder of the past... of the mansion, even as her mind was being filled with fresh memories to haunt her in the future. She looked back to Hunk, and she inclined her head.

"But yes... it also sounds heavenly. Let's get it over with. Get out of here. I better contact Carlos first before we go, give him an update... haven't heard from him since the library. If something got him... no. He's fine. He survived the crash, just like the rest of us."

"Make it so. I have a call of my own to make."

"Oh? You do, do you? To a 'young woman' who doesn't speak good English?",

Jill inquired with interest, her curious brow raising again. Attempting to play it off as mere teasing... which it only partially was. She tucked the golden gear into one of her pouches, closing it back up again. She used the movement as a point of focus, to ponder his words, and think back to the last time she had seen him using the radio he was carrying... an instance that had led to less than plea sent circumstances. She had been wondering when it would come up again. Part of her was surprised to find him speaking openly about his communication link to Umbrella... it was... a move of honesty. He had probably done as much probably only because the cat was out of the bag, because she already knew... but nevertheless, it was a rather odd gesture out of him, not to continue covering the matter up. His stance, his manner... and above all his words gave nothing away, as ever. In spite of what little she had been made aware of already... she couldn't even begin to speculate on what remained outside the reach of her knowledge... the truth.

"Or to that... 'Nighthawk' fellow again you were talking to earlier? Whoever that is."

"Yes, to him, and my employers. No matter the mission or circumstance, it is a standing obligation to keep them updated."

"Need I ask who they are, and their other intentions with Raccoon City? How about other operations you U.S.S. people have undertaken? What else you're doing? Specifics?"

"No. You don't need to."

"I thought not. You wouldn't even tell me if I did, would you?"

"No."

"I see. Honesty, at least. It's a start. A good sign for any healthy relationship."

The Umbrella Agent merely studied her silently, perhaps taken aback by the remark... but showing little to nothing at all. As much as she wanted a reaction. Slightly bitter smirk deepening a bit, she went on, feeling her heartbeat quicken as the words came to her. As she was unable to hold them back from escaping for some reason, once she got started. Admitting her concerns. Words perhaps she should have continued hiding, but found herself unable to.

"You know, it's funny... for someone so interested in the covert activities of the U.B.C.S, you are also in the know when it came to someone like Nikolai, and that fucked up Doctor Birkin. The U.S.S. knows a hell of a lot more about what's going on than the U.B.C.S. Deeper within the company. Makes me wonder what else you really know. What you're keeping from me. What you can't trust me with. At this point I'm not sure if I even want to know, even if you were more honest."

Jill spoke to him again, a touch of frost entering her quiet tone, and she shook her head slowly, lips thinning as cool anger began to swim through her insides. She had to keep herself in control... not allow her pain and confusion to speak everything for her. Although some of it bubbled to the surface and poured out for him to see, somehow she kept most of it hidden. Yet knowing how perceptive he was, she had given him enough. Now and again, working together as they were, she forgot that he was not entirely her ally. No... she didn't forget. She simply stopped blocking out that lie she told herself now and again... the lie that his loyalty was to her. She was just a happenstance along his way to escape... convenient to him... but one he would throw to the wayside when they got out of here. It must be true... what use was she to a man like him, in the end? Escape looming over her was so close now she felt fear, even as she longed for it. When they got there, what was going to change between them? What was going to happen?

It already felt like they had met a lifetime ago... even as it had somehow only been a matter of hours. So much had happened in the past hours already... more than what happened between many people in a lifetime. The realism of the situation nipped at her from all sides, poked and prodded, made her feel foolish for trusting him... and far more than foolish for sparing his G-Virus sample. Sparing him... a faceless man over the lives of billions of men, women and children with faces. Fresh guilt continuing to stab her, no matter how much she tried to repress it. She did not know him. She didn't really know who he was, and she knew she never really would. Hard as she tried, and as much as she wanted to. Even when he opened up sometimes, revealed another surprising layer... it felt like a hundred more popped up in its place. There was only so much she could know about a man keeping as silent as he did. It took all she had to force aside that nagging, reminding voice of doubt that wanted her to take back her choices to this point.

She rose her finger to her radio and activated it again, another faint sound of static emerging from its depths. She unholstered and rose the mobile transmitter device, but did not activate the intercom or speak into it right away. Her frigid, distant eyes lingered on her reflection in his eyes... and as it had been for a long time, she hated looking at herself. When he continued not to speak, merely staring at her, she took up the reins again.

"Forget it. Go call whoever the hell you want. Talk about me behind my back to your precious company that wants my head. Go ask what the price on my head is, for all I care. Do whatever. And then we'll go. Sorry to keep you from your obligations and 'employers' for so long. You'd be out of here by now if it wasn't for me, some washed up cop, a civilian who blundered into your path. I won't get in your way again."

Heart beating quicker, she waited for him to say something... anything. For him to deny it or agree with it. Defend himself. One side wanting him to speak, to show emotion as she did towards him... the other side making her want to walk away and recover herself in solitude. Regain her dignity. Knowing how pathetic she probably looked and sounded. Unprofessional. Moments passed in silence between them, as she left the radio going... and although Hunk's stance did not change... for a split second, it looked almost like he would speak. But he didn't, he held back, after appraising her, her manner, and her words, not taking the silent dare of her narrowed eyes to speak. Instead, he turned back to the desk and folded up the map, before tucking it away into one of his pouches. Next he reached for his TMP laying on the desk, and he turned back around, holding it in one hand, laser sight sweeping across the floor. He did not look at her again, rather slowly, rigidly made his way away from her and the desk, before stepping across the tile floor of the main hall silently, passing by the body and candle light, seemingly ignoring everything.

He stepped around the long wooden table close to the main staircase... and that was where he stopped, at the base of the stairwell. She watched as he peered up the stairs, and rose a gloved hand to the side of his helmet followed by a muffled voice, which from their respective distance, and how low he was speaking, she could not discern. It didn't matter. He had the privacy he so wanted to talk to his precious company... and she had hers. Why he had bothered giving her access to his Quartermaster, she still couldn't understand. It was clear how much he'd rather be private, secret keeping. It still bothered her... even after the gesture had touched her. It was complicated as all hell... he was... and perhaps he wasn't the only one, between the two of them. She sighed again, gritting her teeth as the sting in her hands worsened, and her eyes moved on to the desk he had left behind, along with both of the item's he'd left her... in a way that could only have been intentional. Her eyes widened a little, a shade of the grimness in her expression replaced by confusion. The U.B.C.S. report remained on the desk, in spite of his interest in discovering the truth about them... he hadn't taken it as he had so quickly the map. Nor had he taken the full bottle of First Aid Spray that had been set off to the side.

Jill's hand lowered slowly from her radio communicator, and she took the blood stained papers... tucking them away with all the other documents and papers she had brought with her and found on the course of the trip. She took the spray bottle as well too, of course... and this time she made damn sure it was securely in Rebecca's medical bag, not loose. Finally, taking the time to sit down on the surface of the desk, her legs hanging over, she drew in another breath... an attempt to at least relax partially as she made her call. She rose the communicator to her lips, and pressed the button on it, activating the intercom, her quite yet firm voice speaking up again into its depths, and carrying off on the broadcasting wave lengths.

"Carlos... come in. Carlos, this is Jill, come in."

She released the talk button and began to wait, static returning to the channel... she started closing her eyes for a few seconds, before opening them again, continuing to watch Hunk over by the staircase... though he did not meet her look in the least. Or so she was certain. Her lips thinned slightly more, at both the sight of him speaking directly to Umbrella... and to Carlos's radio silence. Every second felt like a millennium, especially this close to the end. No matter what, they were all going to make it... they had to. It was all they had left... each other. Three survivors. All she could salvage from this. It would not all be for nothing. It couldn't be. She pressed the talk button again, and spoke into it, raising her voice a bit more as she did so.

"Carlos, are you picking this up? It's Jill Valentine, we need to talk, it's important. Over."

There was another long pause of static on the line... one that only gave her cause to deepen her concern. There was no telling what infested the clock tower... and Jill had more than a feeling zombies were the least of the place's troubles. The last thing she wanted to see was anymore mutations that evening... and certainly, not anything she hadn't already been subjected to. The thought of the pale thing came back to her... troubled her almost as much as the Tyrant... the intelligence to them both. To say nothing of their grisly appearances... beings spawned of nightmares... that would create them as well, the next time she slept. They would return to her... wheather in nightmares, in person again, or both. She was all but certain of it. Every second that passed, she feared the worst more and more... but more importantly, she feared the unknown more than anything... she always had, but far worse in the past months.

She wanted, no, needed to know everything... know the truth, truths that lay out there. However awful. She wouldn't go back to how she had been before the Spencer Mansion, when her whole life had changed. Realizing what she had been surrounded by in Raccoon City all this time... by Umbrella. It was like she had stepped into another world. But right now, above all, she needed to know Carlos was ok. I she and Hunk were, after everything, he had to be. In spite of how much she told herself this, she felt her expression twisting into what she felt... cold grimness, a chill passing through her entirety at the radio static. She was just about to press down on the communicator again, however, when the static broke... and out came a familiar, instantly reassuring voice. In a split second, she felt herself calmed immensely. She silently cursed herself for fearing, dreading something she'd known deep down would be ok... but that was her. She worried, and always had.

"Breaker breaker one nine, this is the Road Warrior calling the Valkyrie, Road Warrior to Valkyrie... or is the call sign Kandy Kisses? Sorry fer the late call back. We got a couple o' bears in the chicken coop over here."

Carlos's accented amused voice filled her ears... but it was not entirely the accent she was used to. He was attempting a rather poor imitation of a southern trucker... but nevertheless, she found herself smiling, shaking her head slightly at his childishness. So appreciative that he was fine that she was able to ignore her impulse to roll her eyes. For a change. Even then, it took all she had not to, as she patiently waited for him to cut it out.

"Oh, wait a minute... y'all are already a bear, ain't cha? And this ain't Texas or a CB radio. Bummer, figured out my call sign and everythin'... ah tell you wut boi. What did ya want sugar? Bin missin' me back there? Over."

"Officer Jill Valentine to Corporal Carlos Oliveira.", Jill corrected him with a sigh, pressing down on the communicator and speaking into it calmly and clearly, unable to shake the smile. It was damn good to hear him again, even if it had to be more of his antics. "Please, you've barely been gone for long... try not to flatter yourself more than you usually do, I know I'm asking you the world there. And while you're at it, stow the southern accent. It's not working for you. I'm calling to update you on the situation back here, over."

"I'm all ears, Supercop.", Carlos's voice replied wryly, very much familiar as he obeyed, dropping the accent to return to his natural one. "What's cookin' over there, good lookin'? Besides your overcooked hands. Over."

"Hunk is conscious again. We were able to get back underway in our objective."

Jill explained to him, her smile at last fading as her eyes moved on in Hunk's direction, watching him talk as well at the foot of the stairs. She could not hear the voice on the other end of his line, on top of barely being able to hear Hunk's. Who he was talking to. The same was unlikely to apply for her own radio conversation. In her case, her voice, and especially that of Carlos echoed through the great hall of the clock tower... and she wasn't even speaking particularly loudly. Her eyes scarcely blinked as they watched Hunk, waiting, willing him to turn in her direction... but like before, he never did. She found herself a bit irritated at that, but forced herself to focus again.

"We're in the main hall right now... I forgot how big this place is. Over."

"Ah, sleeping beauty is back in the land of the living? Already up and ready to kick ass? Figures. Damn good to hear, maybe with him back in the fight we can clean out this entire clock tower.", Carlos's pleased voice replied after a brief pause of static, chuckling to himself. "The main hall huh? I take it you found the body and weapon then? What do you think of your presents?"

"Yes... we found that and more."

Jill informed him, unconsciously playing with the Mine Thrower's shoulder strap. Part of her longed to use it, right now... but with both a painfully limited ammunition supply and lack of targets, such an occurrence was unlikely at best. Still, there was no way she was parting with such a weapon when they all got out of here. Advanced weapons technology like this.

"I think I should have found it a long time ago. Might have solved a number of problems plaguing us lately. As for the other items we found, most importantly, there were some instructions down here for the dead mercenary. Apparently he was definitely part of Echo Team', a man named Campbell? Their leader. I think you mentioned him aboard the train."

"That was Campbell? Aw shit... didn't recognize him... and was in a hurry to find you guys. Damn it. Rest in peace, man."

"Yes. Apparently his team was under orders to cleanse the Downtown infestation and evacuate civilians. But the priority was getting Umbrella personnel to the clock tower for the evacuation... did you know anything about that?"

There was nothing accusatory in her tone... nor did she believe Carlos untrustworthy... but she had to know, didn't she? If even one of the gaps could be filled, she would be appreciative. There was another pause... but it was not an ominous one. It was one in which she was assured Carlos was merely racking his brain, perhaps not having expected this line of questioning to come up, not having really checked the body very closely.

"No... I don't think I do. Well... maybe a little. I wasn't apart of Echo Team... we all got one main, official briefing, from Colonel Vladimir, all the teams in every platoon. Nothing was said about prioritizing Umbrella personnel at the time... but it's possible the platoon leaders got a private meeting about that as well. That the platoons were given differing objectives. We all started Downtown, but we didn't all have the same evacuation site for ourselves and the civvies. When Nikolai bought it up earlier, that was pretty much the first I'd even heard of this place."

"I see. The report was fairly short, and straight to the point... didn't give much in the way of information.", Jill replied after a few moments of her own consideration, having memorized every word on the order letter. Her eyes moved over from where she sat on the desk, resting upon the fallen mercenary, her lips pursing again with concentration as she spoke. "On the other hand, I found Campbell's dog tags. I'll get them to you when I get the chance. Did you know him well?"

"Campbell? No. Saw him a few times, heard about him, but I didn't know him. Wasn't in my platoon.", Carlos replied slowly, each word deliberate and considered, slow and calm. Jill gave him all the time he needed, patiently waiting between pauses. Her eyes wandering against her will back to Hunk's form below the stairwell. Part of her wanting to stand there with him... another wishing for distance. Conflict... as ever, where he was concerned. "Most of us only really get to know our particular team, or the platoon we all belong to... there's never been an operation, at least in my time with the U.B.C.S., where this many platoons have been sent in at once. Mostly, when it comes to our training, one platoon would be pitted against another... and only one platoon was sent into a situation. One of the many reasons I was shocked as hell when we all got the call."

"I see. That makes sense... it was the same way during my Delta Force training. My time in the army, and my work with S.T.A.R.S. I mean, I got to know everyone on Alpha and Bravo of course, but I mainly got used to the company of Alpha, working with them the most."

Jill returned, nodding her head slowly. Her mind was swept up in the memories... of her time with Delta Force... the most agonizing time she'd had prior to the Mansion Incident... but well worth it. Somehow she had succeeded with the training. Survived, really... an accomplishment by its self. Without it, she wouldn't be sitting here making this call. Then had come her S.T.A.R.S. assignments... yes, she counted Rebecca among her best friends, regardless of her belonging to Bravo... but she had gotten attached to Alpha differently. That was simply how it was when a team, or when people had to depend on one another. Even now, in this situation... it was why she almost mistook Carlos and Hunk for members of her own Alpha Team... and not members of theirs. She barely knew them compared to Chris, Barry and Rebecca... but she wished she did. They were so different from her team and from each other... yet somehow, fit right in, in her mind. In the middle of the hell the city had become. Each dependable in their own way. She gradually returned to her former frame of mind, pushing aside the memories and continuing.

"It doesn't matter, I suppose. The Echo Team operation report detailed enough. We found out what we need to do to get out of here. Apparently there's a chopper waiting somewhere in the suburbs for a signal... according to the report, we need to ring the bell in the clock tower to get its attention... there was a golden gear in Campbell's hand... we think it fits into it somehow. The clock is working, as I'm sure you've heard, but the bell is another store. We needed this to activate it. Hunk and I are headed up to the machinery room on the third floor now to fix it. Over."

"Wonderful news. Sounds like we dodged a hell of a bullet there looking for that gear, huh? Understood, you two get on it as soon as possible. We can regroup later. Over."

"What are you talking about?", Jill asked, a little incredulously, raising a brow. "You should regroup with us right now... we have the means to escape, and we should all stick together this close to the end. It's too dangerous to split up. Over."

"Hey, this place isn't going to scout its self out Jill. I'm more than sure you two can handle things on your own. I'm fine here... ran into a few...uh, things, but I took them out easily enough. So far, the risk is low... over."

"That's irrelevant. We have a map, Carlos... you're just wasting your time and risking your neck needlessly. You don't need to run around and try to play the hero all the time. We need you as you are. And in one piece. You have nothing to prove. Over."

"What I don't need is a map, trust me. I'm making good progress here exploring the place, and I found a few items already to make use of. Echo Team had things stashed, most likely. Someone's gotta find it." Carlos spoke back, his tone growing a bit more defensive, and less humorous. He sounded tired... more tired than she had heard him before... hell, they all were... there was an air of bitterness that filtered in and out among them... she supposed it was his turn to do so. She didn't completely understand his reasons, his objections... but she started to piece it together the longer he spoke. "Unless that map is so detailed that the particulars of these rooms have items listed on them, supplies... I'm not interested. I can do this, Jill. I'm not useless... we all have our own function, what we do best... well I'm the best there is at what I do. Besides weapons, that is scouting, and keeping my team armed and alive. Ok? Over."

Jill paused longer than she had before as she pondered his words. Part of it struck her as a matter of pride... he was a young man, swimming in pride, and some ego. And perhaps to be standing in Hunk's shadow didn't help... considering the stories he claimed surrounded the agent. Still, she knew that it was not entirely that. She tried placing herself in his shoes, despite her urge to simply not care, and move on. The fact was she did care, no matter what it cost her. He was tired and in pain as she was, had been in the same crash... on top of everything that had happened up to this point. He believed deeply in how best to take care of the few left... sure of what his role was. Like Hunk in his leadership and combat role, Carlos excelled at his own.

She couldn't blame him for that, and for sticking to that, she supposed. Maintaining said habit was partially a coping mechanism... he was doing what he was used to before and while this outbreak had occurred. It was a tool, a means to remain in control. Were it not for her own discipline and training, Jill would have fallen apart a long time ago. It was something all three of them shared, even if it was in varying degrees. Discipline. None of them had any illusions about the less they were in. It made sense to her why he acted the way he did... and why she did. Why they all did. They needed to remain who they were. It was of the essence, for the sake of sanity. Yes... she understood... so why the unpleasant feeling in the pit of her stomach... why the dread?

She didn't like it. She just didn't, all of them separating... any one of them separating. If she had been in command back on the train, she would have ordered all of them, including Nikolai to stick together to find each part... not splitting up and taking their chances. Teamwork was infinitely preferable and superior to the lone wolf stuff... but Jill had the feeling that achieving personal glory or recognition was not the reason Carlos was behaving like this, being inflexible on this particular matter. He knew team work well... but he was simply so used to operating on his own, in the midst of the outbreak, that he had gotten used to it. That was probably the maddest thing of all... he, all of them had gotten used to things getting as bad as they were.

None of it, none of the rationalization took away her unpleasant feelings. She was tempted to order him back to the hallto join them... she was even willing, she thought, to swallow her pride and walk over to Hunk, request that he make the order himself. And yet... she couldn't find it in herself to do. Couldn't take him off his task. Even with the finish line so close, in sight by now... he wanted to take precautions for the worst case scenario. After the Mansion... after the outbreak... the Pursuer, the worm and the train... she couldn't exactly disagree with or blame him for that. At last she rose the communicator again and activated the button, speaking into it slowly.

"Fine. Have it your way for now. You're as stubborn as Hunk. Over."

"I'll be taking that as a compliment, Supercop. Look how far that has gotten him in life. I'm better looking too by the way... but you already knew that. Over."

"Just, be careful, alright? The last thing we need is to have to come pull your boots out of the fire. I've had enough fire for one day, if you couldn't tell back there, over."

"Roger that. Oh, and don't worry so much. You'll get wrinkles. Careful's my middle name. Over."

"Right. Tell me another. Over."

"Why did the chicken cross the-

"Forget I even said anything, over."

"Aw, come on... and here I thought nobody had heard of that one yet.", Carlos replied slyly, the seriousness in his voice fading away. Regardless of the exhaustion that remained, his sluggish tone, she had more than a feeling he was smiling, as she was reluctantly doing. In spite of it, and no matter how much she wished her uncertainty would go away... her bad feeling about the situation did not recede... forcing her to ignore it. "Look, you take care as well, and keep an eye on HUNK. Old Skull Stalker there might put on a good tough guy action hero show, but if he's all there after that crash, I'll eat my boots. Look how well we got off. After you guys set off the beacon, we'll get back in touch. Sound good? Over."

"Very. Hopefully the chopper doesn't take too long. I don't want to be here any longer than we have to. This place is already giving me the creeps. Over."

"That makes two of us... trust me. I'll see you both soon. Carlos, over and out."

"Copy that Carlos. Watch your back. Over and out."

Jill turned off the intercom, and drew in another deep, steadying breath, closing her eyes as she closed the communication channel, and she tiredly rubbed her face. She couldn't be paid enough to be doing any of this... handling all the stress and pain from a million different sources. And yet... here she was, doing it all free of charge. She already had more than the passing feeling, that in addition to all the scars she was collecting, she'd be old before her time in no time at all. Wake up with a streak of white in her hair tomorrow. This was the most stressful, worrisome part of it all. Ironically, even gathering the parts and driving the train had not given her as much cause for dread. There had been a focus, a mission to get done to advance to the next goal. They were steps from the finish line now... and much like her escape from the Spencer Mansion that summer... it was at the very end that she had felt the most fear. The moment she could be cruelly pulled back from safety and freedom, and destroyed utterly, the rug pulled beneath her. It had almost happened last time. She closed her eyes, and she saw that T-002 Tyrant all over again... it had been massive, and moved not dissimilar to her Pursuer... albeit, far more single mindedly than the Pursuer... simpler... and with a weakness the Pursuer didn't have. An exposed heart. Not that that made it any better.

She saw it as though it had been yesterday, each of them racing against the clock... the blaring sirens indicating the self destruction of the facility and mansion had been activated. The Tyrant barging through the solid concrete of the heliport after they had regrouped, between her and the others. It had been so close, towering over her, that it could have grabbed her with ease... torn her to pieces, had Chris and Barry not opened up on it. Rebecca had not been spared that particular part of the horror either... on top of everything else she had recounted to them in the aftermath, after the journey back to Raccoon City. The Ecliptic Express. The Umbrella Training Facility. Still, Rebecca had done her duty as well, fought it with all she had. Jill thought back to the intense battle... wishing she didn't have to remember. They might have defeated it... in the end... but If it hadn't been for Brad, none of them would have made it out. Consuming the Tyrant in a fiery blaze of the rocket launcher... followed by the self destruction of the entire mansion and facility.

Piling into the back of the police helicopter... lifting off had been when she was the most frightened. And one of the only times in that whole incident she had felt satisfaction. True relief and comfort, when they had taken to the skies... reached its safety, the mansion detonating far below. She had watched its destruction herself, had thought it the end of the nightmare. Watched it all burn. Before slowly feeling herself fall asleep against her partner's shoulder on the way back home. Her sleep had been peaceful. Perhaps the only true, peaceful one she'd had since that summer. She remembered every moment of it, relived it with perfect clarity... all she could do was force it aside for awhile... but it would come back. It always came back... especially now, at such a similar moment. The nightmares came back to her at night... and then came true. In the streets of her city.

The moment of escape was so close now, again. She had no illusions, with the Pursuer still out there somewhere. Too far away, hopefully... unable to track them in time to flee the city... but hope seemed to keep setting her up for disappointment. At this point, she could prepare for anything... but was she ready for anything? Even now after all this time... she had no idea. She wished more than ever that she did. She drew in another steadying breath, and opened her eyes again, the horrific images fading momentarily... and she waited for Hunk to finish up his call. He did so, not long after, and when he had, she rose from the table, unslinging her SPAS-12. She made her way back slowly over to him, away from the desk, past the table, pillars, lights and body, and to the foot of the staircase.

Her eyes studied his form closely as she approached him from behind... but still the nagging doubts, the uncertainties about it all... and then there was the matter of the coldness she had shown him. The tension, like electricity in the air. She regretted snapping at him... she found, even when she knew she shouldn't. When she should have been angrier at him... but wasn't. He had given her access to someone else on his support team. Had trusted him with that. She wanted to curse at how much he frustrated her with that... an icy wall one moment... letting her in slightly in the next. Seeing another side. She remembered the Quartermaster's words. Hunk had a life of some sort outside of this city... back at Umbrella. She was certain of that, whatever form that life took. Where did she fit into things for him? The tension between them... what would happen when they escaped?

Maybe only she felt the tension... she seemed to be the only one who felt a lot of things here... too much perhaps... but that only made it worse. Even with him, with how well she could read people... part of her could only imagine what he did feel, deep down, buried and sealed away by so many layers beyond his body armor. With hope... enough time remained to chip some more of it away. Pull him from that zone. But there was that dangerous word again... 'hope'. The best of things, and the most dangerous of them.

She felt some embarrassment, for letting out her frustration on him... losing her professionalism. Letting him see that part of her. But as he himself would say... 'it was done'. It had been said, and there was no taking it back. It would be fine... each of them had dealt with worse... and yet... this was still different. Jill could blast zombies and other monsters apart without hesitance or trepidation... but when it came to being around this strange... interesting man... why did she feel such uncertainty? Fear, and a thrill? Empathy. Feelings. No matter... she'd just have to continue pushing through it, dealing with it as it came along. One problem at a time. First thing was first... she knew. Escape. She came to a stop a couple steps behind him and spoke up reluctantly, her tone quiet and calm, echoing again in the hall... as Jill addressed him once more.

---

"This is HUNK. Alpha Team leader to NIGHTHAWK, come in. Alpha Team leader to NIGHTHAWK, this is a status update... are you picking this up?"

There was an unusually long pause on the line, during which HUNK's eyes behind the lenses moved up slowly over the staircase. Attempting to discern what lay beyond for them when it was time to move again... to little avail. Everything was obscured... but still he studied that staircase, TMP at his side and ready to be aimed, if something came stumbling, or crawling down to greet them. So far, there had been no signs of infected... the former librarian excluded, of course. On the way, he had believed the place was already overrun... but given how little of it they had explored, it was entirely possible that much of it was infested. Oliveira would know better than the rest of them. HUNK functioned as best as he possibly could, forcing his mind cool and clear, blocking out the pain in his midsection that every step and breath was only worsening. Relying on some of the meditation War had shown him. Remembering her soothing, patient, accented voice in his ear. Finding his center. The pain did not matter. Only the mission. Only his duty. He was usually good at it... it had taken him awhile to learn, but once he had, it had served him well on other missions.

Now? It was as difficult as it had been when he'd first tried to learn it from her. He still wasn't quite sure how he had managed... but knew he couldn't have without her.

He felt it, the pain, but refused to let it show. Everything weighed down on him, and not just the weapons, gear and uniform. They were counting on him to remain the way they perceived him. Implacable, unbreakable. Death could not be killed or injured. He had been out long enough... had nearly ruined the mission. Made a mess of it beyond repair. The mission, it was so close now. Their escape. The return to the Leviathan. To Loire Village. Of course it was. Every other headache had been worth it, just to reach this point. He could not dwell on his injuries... but regretted his foolhardy actions in hindsight, of jumping out the window. They all would most likely have been gone by now, if they had utilized the emergency break. As it was, he had to make do with things the way they were. He had made a choice. For better or worse. For the moment, the hordes were stuck outside... maybe they would break through later... maybe. They were ever determined to do so... and eventually, they would have to. It was all they did. All they knew. Well... he could be just as persistent in his own goals. And even injured as he was, he could handle them... any of them, easily enough.

The lack of mutations scouring the clock tower was oddly alarming. There was an unpleasant quiet about the main hall... as though something, everything, was watching them from the balconies above, from every side of the hall. He didn't trust it... any of it. Too quiet. And then the matter of the U.B.C.S. mercenary... his weapon and instructions. He'd been shot through the back of the skull... and he had more than a thought about who might have been involved. Or rather what. The Monitors... even in the possibility Nikolai was truly dead, he was not the only Monitor. How many others had made it, and were running around backstabbing one another over data and information? If that was it though... why had they found the map, orders, and golden gear? Had none of it suited whoever shot down Campbell? Even as everything in HUNK's body ached, his mind was a blur of movement, thoughts and consideration as he analyzed the entirety of the situation. Despite his exhaustion he was entirely alert... had spent enough time already unconscious as it was. Once he had gotten over the vertigo and recovered himself, as it had been in the sewer... he found himself still capable of functioning efficiently.

The only rest he had gotten lately was unconsciousness, blacking out... it would seem. For the time being, it would have to be enough. He fortified his mind, blocked out as much of the obstructive pain as possible, distanced himself from it. There was too much at stake here. He could not afford the luxury of weakness, or the failure of his body. He never could, and he never would. His mistake had cost them enough already... in addition to Valentine's burns. Valentine had been foolish... she would have been better placed leaving him to burn, not injuring herself so greatly to save him. He had got her into the mess, led her into it... he deserved to reap the consequences. Why had she helped him of all people for? An Umbrella Agent, the enemy to everything she believed in, at risk to her own life? He didn't know... but it gnawed at him, among everything else that did. Not knowing what she was getting out of it all.

He should have been more careful. Thought it out better... and he hadn't. Somehow, they had made it to the clock tower... all of them, save the Captain, alive. That had been a sacrifice with sense to it, unlike Valentine's burns. The Captain's actions had potentially saved them all. The Pursuer would only have followed them down to the front of the train, and destroyed it from the inside out. Trading his life, and the rear carriage had been a worthy gamble. Yet... for how long they had been out... well. How long before the Tyrant caught on to their trail again, and did what it did best? Came for them. It would. He knew it. It was only a matter of time... had merely been delayed. Hopefully, the injuries it had sustained and the distance between where it had fallen and where they were now was enough to keep it at bay long enough. Long enough for them to be in the air, by the time it kicked in the front doors of the clock tower. There was too much... all of it, weighing on his every thought, this close to the end. He found himself troubled, as he had not been before.

He felt not fear... but... anticipation. It was always like this, so close to the end. More often than not, something went wrong. That was just how it was. Not merely a fictional cliche... but often times a real one. It was easy to become complacent this close to escape... he could not afford to be. None of them could.

HUNK did not care for his fanciful, spacious surroundings... the decor of the clock tower unpleasantly reminding him of Lord Spencer's Arklay Mansion, in contrast to Comtesse Henri's Loire Village Estate. As little as he wished to linger in this place, if it came to it, and Oliveira's precautions of clearing the place was correct... there were many defensive positions based off the map. And if the outer wall held, it could well prove a better place than most to be held up at. It all depended on the escape chopper... how intact it was. How long had it been waiting? It had been days since the U.B.C.S. had been dispatched... had a potentially armed chopper with an entire crew, or at least a chopper that could have been put to good use, really been sitting around in all that time as men had fought and died? The idea made HUNK feel cold. Along with the desire to order the pilot's execution, when they returned to the Leviathan. Thrown in the brig at least, perhaps sent to Rockfort Island. Though the Colonel wouldn't allow either... not out of care for the man's life, but because of the lines drawn in the sand between the U.S.S. and U.B.C.S.

As ever.

He knew there might have been understandable circumstances... there often were... but this level of secrecy was not normal for the U.B.C.S. At least for most of them, barring the Monitors. He would only expect it of a covert operation. Had Echo Team been an entire team full of them? It had been Nikolai who had put the idea forward to come here... an idea he had decided to follow through with over his own wish to proceed to Incineration Disposal Plant P-12A. HUNK was not as inflexible as many perceived him. He could take other ideas. That was teamwork. Even an idea from a self interested criminal like Nikolai. Nevertheless, the idea had troubled him from the start. How had Nikolai known about it, while Oliveira, and potentially Captain Viktor, had not? The answer seemed clear.

A Monitor was always in the know... as much so, often times, as a U.S.S. Agent... but neither one of them had all the information... merely information on different matters. How he would have loved the chance to properly interrogate Nikolai ... but it was too late now. Like many other things. He knew his report was going to be far longer than usual, when he made it back. With luck, he'd be able to figure some things out when he got clear of the city. He didn't like mysteries in his line of work. He never had. How many other Monitors had been sent? It could have been few, or many, infesting the four platoons and even Echo Team. They could have been scattered about the city... some could have even been sent after the initial chaos. Or even before it... gathering their data. Had they reached the NEST yet and uncovered the truth? Made it to the outbreak's ground zero to collect data? Provided the infected and mutations down there didn't kill them. If Nikolai was still alive... HUNK knew he would be looking into what had brought the U.S.S. to Raccoon City. When he found out... not if, but when... matters would only worsen for them. If he ever got around to it, with what was undoubtedly a long list of things to do, in the chaos of Raccoon City. Data to collect, assassinations and other missions. No doubt he had worked to sabotage the efforts of the U.B.C.S... had filmed their fights with the infected and mutations.

It would not have surprised him if it had been him who shot Captain Viktor during the city's downfall.

And then there was the matter of the U.S. Military, and Government. It was nearly a miracle Umbrella could even delay them a few days... but even then, it was obvious the Government would take advantage of every minute the city remained intact. How long before they made forays into the city, hellbent on collecting data of their own? Assuming they weren't already. If they managed to stay alive long enough to find anything they wanted, of course. Simmons would want to get his hands on whatever he could, considering the clandestine programs he was running out of the government and his Tall Oaks estate. The so called 'Family' he was neck deep in. Another not so secret society Umbrella's Intelligence Division was keeping a close eye on. It had been Comtesse Henri who had first informed him of them, through her close ties to Lord Spencer. When he had first gone to Loire Village to work for her... she had been teaching him more of the workings of the world she operated in. A battlefield of its own, in many ways. War must have known about them too... but she had never taught him that particular world she inhabited, of political intrigue within the company. Just the world of Umbrella Security Service... what he had needed to know. How much else had she chosen not to teach him, for everything that she had? Perhaps she had been trying to spare him in not teaching him that... but the trade off had been ignorance. He supposed her motive didn't matter. It was done.

If HUNK encountered any military forces in Raccoon City, despite U.S.S. Command ordering him to avoid contact with the military, he had little doubt he would be given the order to silence them. The extraction of the virus... completion of his mission, worth more than their lives, or the risk of engaging the U.S. Army. Politicians and bureaucrats pitting men against each other, each owned by the corrupt. Nothing changed. Nothing different from the usual. The world the Comtesse had shown him had not been one he wished to play a role in... but it had been necessary lessons. Officially, Umbrella and the U.S. Government were cooperating... but it was clearly only a smoke screen... for their private little war. Competition. No different than the competition between companies. Whatever happened in the city now, so long as it stood, was fair game for either side. They were caught in the middle. The only good news in all of it was a double edged sword... their escape. And by extension, that Campbell had gone through the headache inducing puzzle already for them, before he was killed. The situation was grim, though not hopeless, not in the slightest. If they had made it this far, they could and would make it the rest of the way. No matter the cost.

It was only a matter of time, now.

HUNK remained where he stood, looking away from Valentine... not even doing so much as keeping her in his peripheral vision. She had made it abundantly clear she wished to be on her own for a bit, had made clear her frustrations towards him... frustrations that had been obvious from the start... but ones that had not emerged for awhile. In being open about his communicator, and contacts... he was taking a risk. Whether it would pay off remained to be seen. Yet still... he could feel her eyes watching him, for almost every second of it all. He was not surprised she would act the way she did... he knew her problems well... but she would have to work them out for herself. If she hadn't shot him yet, like he would have in her position... then she wouldn't now.

He must have been doing something right there regarding her, at least.

He would let her stew in her own problems, as he was in his... there was little else that could be done. She was at least professional enough to continue working at his side... that much at least he was confident of. He had hoped his gesture with QUARTERMASTER, the Mine Thrower, would broker some trust between them, further trust... and for a bit, it had seemed likely. Then it had come back, within her, perhaps. Their differences. Their different worlds. Opposite sides. The doubt. The true nature of his mission that she already knew of. And he could not fault her outburst in the least. He was the enemy, by every measure, whatever else he might have been to her. He did not consider her his enemy... he had no orders regarding her. But she was a civilian, it would be different for her. She had seen enough, suffered enough, knew enough of what Umbrella had done to rightly hate them. He would be a fool to think that didn't extend to him. Trust or no trust. Complicated... relationship... or not. He wasn't worth the effort and emotion she seemed to be set on investing into him. Frustrating herself. As she was frustrating him.

HUNK was about to activate his communication device again and break the silence. Instead a voice beat him to it... and not a voice he had been particularly expecting. Nor one he had ever heard before.

"Reading you loud and clear over here, Agent HUNK."

A young woman's rather spirited and smooth tone came through on the line, emanating through his ears. Somewhat accented. It took him only a couple moments to place it. East Asian for sure. Taiwan, most likely. Good knowledge of English, but not flawless in the accent, as Ada's had been. But then, this particular young woman on the line wasn't a spy. Wasn't living a lie.

"Sorry for taking so long, there was a lot of cross communication on the U.S.S. broadcasting channel. I've been doing nothing but flying this Black Hawk and talking for the last while, going to lose my voice at this rate. Fortunately I am something of a marvelous multi tasker. Still... talk about some first impression, huh?"

"Where is NIGHTHAWK? Who are you? Identify yourself at once."

"Hold your fire, agent, nothing to worry about. He's back on the Leviathan, getting something to eat and taking a nap. Orders from U.S.S. Command, he's been piloting that chopper of his past the acceptable time limit. A tired pilot isn't exactly the best one to have in the air. Must have been crazy flying in this kind of mission... but then again, so am I, and here I am. I'm not really one to talk. He should be back on here later. You'll just have to make do with me in the meantime... I am FLY GIRL."

HUNK went silent for a few moments on the line, remembering her name and attempting to remember what he had been told about her. Far more pressing matters had been occurring on the train at the time, that he had mostly brushed off what NIGHTHAWK had said, barely acknowledged any of it. It had been a warning of some kind... and it didn't take long to figure it out. Before he could speak, again, she promptly broke the silence, tone still mischievous and soft, but also slightly concerned.

"Is something wrong, sir?"

"NIGHTHAWK mentioned you."

"Oh? My ears weren't burning... was it anything bad?"

"No, it's nothing. I just didn't expect a U.S.S. pilot to be so... young."

"Ok, now you're just flattering me. I may be young, but youth has its own advantages, as I'm sure you know."

FLY GIRL promptly laughed over the radio, a merry little sound that made HUNK's eye brow raise. She did not sound like she was military, and certainly not U.S.S... she was too casual and at ease for that sort of thing. She sounded like a civilian... more so even than Valentine did. His jaw tightened within the mask. Exactly what he needed now of all times. She couldn't have been out of her mid twenties. At the most. Or just had a youthful disposition.

"It's an honor to finally meet a living legend like yourself. I can't believe they put me on communication duty with the famous Mr Death. Beats working at the Umbrella Intelligence Division. This mission is looking up already."

"This isn't a game, FLY GIRL. If you know anything about your job, then you'll know that. This is war. Remain focused on your task at hand."

HUNK replied in turn, tone growing a shade more serious, but not turning cold. He did not know if he had any respect for her... it was always earned, never given freely. But in spite of her youth, for the moment at least, he could give her the benefit of the doubt that she knew how to do her job. U.S.S. Command would not have allowed her transfer from Intelligence otherwise. But then... look how incompetent and over eager former Agent GHOST had already proven to be, nearly costing them Operation: NESTWRECKER and definitely costing an entire city. Just the thought of him still rankled at HUNK... wishing he had survived, so he could be stripped of his agent status and shipped off to Rockfort Island again. This time a stay in the penitentiary, instead of the training facility. That would be the bare minimum of justice, for what his ineptitude had cost them. HUNK already regretted trying to intervene on the young man's behalf with U.S.S. Command. As team leader, it was his responsibility... but the actions taken by the young man spoke volumes.

At this point, nothing surprised him. He was seeing things that a younger, much more naive him had believed impossible happen every day. Before his experiences had shaped him. Her training. His missions. Regardless, the agent who had almost entirely blown the operation single handedly would be among his many inquiries when this was over... how such an idiot could be placed in his unit. How that lack of discipline had not been rooted out by Rockfort Island's instructors. His suspicion still lingered over that, his attempt to kill Birkin in his lab... nowhere in their orders had that been one of them. Again he wondered if GHOST had he simply been jumpy, reacted too quickly to think... or had it been something more sinister at work? HUNK didn't like it... the idea of a potential Monitor in his team. Rooting out spies, especially if they were actually competent, was far from easy. If there were Monitors in the U.S.S... what other teams had Colonel Vladimir assigned them to sabotage? Delta? HUNK remembered that incident all too well... not long before in late July.

The Spencer Mansion, and now the city, were not the only areas to suffer an outbreak of the T-Virus. Delta Team, attached to the 1st Investigation Unit had been dispatched for two reasons. One, for the Training School Reclamation Project. The refurbishment of the old Umbrella Executive Training School for re-opening. HUNK had not been to the school in years... it was where Umbrella Security Service had first been founded. Where War had started everything. And although she had never told him... he was certain that was where she had trained one or both of her disciples before him. Before she had chosen him. The school had been open from 1968 to 1978, until Marcus had ruined everything. Had gone mad. And came to cross purposes and rivalry with Lord Spencer. Umbrella... Lord Spencer, had closed the school and relocated their training facilities for Umbrella Security Service and for their scientists and other employees, leaving Marcus alone to his work and test subjects. Experiments. All that had been before his time with Umbrella Security Service. HUNK had never been there in those days... and the only time he had ever visited the school, long after its closure... well.

He had not gone there as a student.

War had rigorously trained him abroad instead, after she chose him, in the 80's, though mostly in England. Her family's properties there and throughout Europe. Some of them, at least. He considered himself all the more fortunate of that, after seeing what had become of the school in the Arklay Mountains. The ruins. Further on, Rockfort Island had become his home in 93', the home of Umbrella Security Service going forward, once Umbrella had acquired it. Though not full time for him. HUNK had many homes, for each of his postings. Some more bearable than others. Of them all he preferred Rockfort Island... despite the memories there of her. Despite his misgivings towards the island's increasingly eccentric Commander.

The second reason the 1st Investigation Unit had been sent, was to investigate the status of Umbrella's Ecliptic Express, as well as take control of it. The Ecliptic Express had been an express train, utilized for transporting Umbrella employee's around the Arklay Mountains, and other wealthy figures connected to Umbrella. At some point around the time of the Mansion Incident, be it related or not, the Ecliptic Express had been infected by the T-Virus... though exactly how was still officially up in the air to this day. At least to those who had not been involved in the mission. The men's superiors, the men that had sent Delta in the first place had covered up the incident very well... but not so well. Comtesse Henri had used her connections to inform him what had happened, when he had requested it of her. The Queen Leech. Taking the form of Marcus. T-Virus infected leeches had caused the outbreak in the Arklay Mountains. And Valentine had confirmed as much as well when she had confronted him at the apartment. The news had troubled him deeply when he heard it, but he had remained silent of his culpability from Valentine as much as he had the Comtesse. The truth wouldn't help him now... especially not with Valentine. All it would do was give her another very good reason to want him dead. To shoot him herself. No sense waking a decade old nightmare again. Those had been Lord Spencer's orders and responsibility anyways, not his own.

What was certain in the wake of the many strange occurrences of July, was that the U.S.S. had required a new Delta Team, and Umbrella required a new train and Research Center that had 'mysteriously' self destructed around that time. While Lord Spencer himself required a new Mansion, laboratory and testing grounds that had also self destructed. Each of them had been costly losses... or would have been, if Umbrella wasn't as connected, global and wealthy as it was. All the same, HUNK hoped they never got around to rebuilding the Spencer Mansion, at least. Its burning down had been the only good thing to come out of that whole affair in the Arklay Mountains. He wished he could have watched it explode, watched it burn to nothingness. He wished it had been his mission to push that button himself. Even if he knew deep down its destruction would not change his bitter memories of the place.

The past was fixed. Beyond his control. For everything else he could do.

To ensure secrecy, it was unlikely any of it would be rebuilt. Such losses were of little account to the company, usually... a drop in the bucket... but that mansion had mattered to Lord Spencer. The news of its destruction would have been a blow, when Colonel Vladimir had undoubtedly delivered it to him. Regardless... while they had somehow managed to sweep all the matters under the rug in that regard... there would be no doing so with Raccoon City. They would not be able to talk themselves, or bribe themselves, at least entirely, out of it. At the most, time could be bought. It would be interesting to see how Umbrella attempted to wriggle its way out of the mess. Lord Spencer would probably have his hands too full to spend time having one of his many mansions rebuilt. Especially that close to the crater that would soon be Raccoon City, come October 1st. The Arklay Mountains for the most part would be a total loss to Umbrella when all was said and done. Save perhaps their medicinal programs related to the herbs that grew there.

And then there was the matter of the lost U.S.S. Delta Team. Delta had been a damn fine team... but whatever they had encountered during their operation on the train had somehow been superior. Betrayal from within seemed the likeliest of causes. It was difficult to imagine their failure otherwise. Hopefully the new Delta Team that would be assembled to replace them would not prove so susceptible as their predecessors. HUNK would have to keep an eye on them, when he got the chance. See which agents were chosen. Surely their error had not been incompetence of training. It was difficult to believe their training and experience failing them... but then, he had seen his own unit fail, regardless of how prepared they should have been. Nothing came as a shock to him.

Not anymore, anyways.

Nevertheless, it would have been more prudent for his own team to have been sent to the Ecliptic Express... but hadn't been possible. He'd been on a separate operation at the time. Out of the country. One of far less importance, it seemed. The more he thought about it, the more he wondered if he had been deliberately kept out of the Arklay Mountains outbreak... and the more he believed it to be the truth. He had thought his team would be the first dispatched when he heard it was occurring... as it had been at other outbreaks at Umbrella facilities around the world. But the call never came... and it was all wrapped up before they became desperate enough to do so. Colonel Vladimir had been personally involved in the cleanup, not wanting it to be delegated by Lord Spencer to the U.S.S. He had convinced the old man, surely, being the closest to him... at least these days.

While HUNK did not question his orders at the time... he had felt bitterness over it. It would have been a fine mission... a good, worthy challenge... but he supposed his presence in Raccoon City was making up for that loss now. And then some. Not that his business here was to clean up an outbreak... as he would have preferred. Instead his business here had caused one. The worst of them. Half of him still wished he could have gone to that mission in the Arklay Mountains, he realized. The other half of him, deep down, was grateful. He knew he would have had to eliminate all the S.T.A.R.S. Would have been no different to them than the Tyrant was to Valentine, now. But then again... if he hadn't run into her here... getting to know her a bit... would he have hesitated in the Arklay Mountains when he saw her? In front of his own men? He found he didn't want to know the answer to that oddly uncomfortable question. Didn't want to dwell on that strangely troubling thought.

"Agent HUNK? Are you still there, sir? Hello? What's wrong? Are you ok?"

Her voice in his ears brought him back... he didn't know how long she had been speaking to him. He realized he had zoned out while standing up. Lapsed into his mind. Irritation towards himself, his weakness, swelled within him, and he fought to keep it under control. To concentrate. Masking it in his voice.

"Yeah. I'm here. The situation is steadily worsening down here, FLY GIRL. As I'm sure you can plainly see from your part in maintaining the Quarantine Zone."

"Of course sir... I meant no disrespect... nor do I underestimate the severity of this situation."

FLY GIRL assured him hastily at once, sounding slightly flustered for a second before taking a moment to recover, moving on with more important matters. HUNK had not scolded her, nor did he, at the moment, intend to. He gave everyone a chance. Those who deserved it anyways. He understood her situation and the pressure. She would either make it, or break. He had seen a lot of people under stress and responsibility, the difficult missions they were often involved in with the U.S.S.. Throwing her into the deep end and seeing if she sank or swam was the only way. If she didn't work out here, she could always be transferred back to Intelligence. Silently, he judged her worthiness to the U.S.S... as he had countless rookies before her.

"I can barely imagine what things are like down there on the ground... and it's near chaos up here as it is. I've done a few strafing runs around the city limits already... one of the barricades on the far northern side of the city was nearly destroyed. I had to help hold the infected and mutations at bay until the U.S. Military could fill the gap again. It was a close call. Anyways, what is your status, and where are you now in your evacuation plan, Agent HUNK? NIGHTHAWK told me before he departed that you managed to get a cable car working down there, and were headed to the Saint Michael Clock Tower. You're there now, I take it?"

"Affirmative. There was an incident aboard the train that derailed and caused it to crash through the outer wall of the clock tower. It took some time to recover from, the gap in communication, but things are back on track here. For the moment."

"Crashed? Are you ok?"

"Nothing too serious, the more important thing is that we made it. We explored a small section of the clock tower and came across a dead U.B.C.S. mercenary from Echo Team. He had some papers on him, instructions for evacuation. Apparently we need to operate the clock tower's bell to signal a waiting chopper somewhere out in the suburbs. Simple enough, but there was something else on the man, a gear that undoubtedly belongs to the clock tower, and likely has to be utilized to activate the signal. We're headed up there now to resume the evacuation."

"No kidding... that seems like an unusual method of signalling a chopper, if you don't mind my saying so. One would think this... Echo Team would be in constant communication with U.B.C.S. Command, directly via radio. It doesn't seem like an effective method."

"My thought exactly, FLY GIRL. Not the only unusual thing about this team... one of them was armed with a Mine Thrower, experimental weaponry that hasn't been mass produced in the company yet. What he was doing with it is unknown at this point. We found him with a bullet in the back of his head, shot at point blank... he could only have been here for a few hours. The shell casing on the ground was that of a handgun, a SIG Pro, to be specific. According to his orders he was to assist in eradicating the infestation, as well as evacuate civilians and Umbrella personnel. The same orders as most of the other U.B.C.S. men in the area... but nevertheless, something about it all does not sit right with me. I have a request, when you have the time. It isn't primary, compared to other objectives, but I'd like you or NIGHTHAWK to look into Echo Team when he returns. There's little information on the matter, but the mercenary in question was a man named Campbell. Enough to go on at least. Any relevant information you can find would be appreciated."

"Copy that, I'll put in the request, have the U.B.C.S. database examined carefully, Agent HUNK." FLY GIRL promised after a brief moment of radio silence. Though already HUNK wondered if she would be able to get clearance. It depended on how well Vladimir had covered his bases. Perhaps his hands were tied at the moment, between his conflicts with the Board. Hopefully Director Henri was keeping him preoccupied. "Is there anything else I can do for you while I've got you on the line, sir?"

"Negative FLY GIRL, I will contact you after we have activated the signal, and once the chopper is en route. Until then, keep doing what you're doing, and let U.S.S. Command know my status. The Virus Sample remains intact, and we are almost on our way out the door."

"Understood, Agent HUNK, just pick up the pace and don't look back, we can figure this all out when you are clear of the city. And if you don't mind a bit more of my gushing, sir, I am honored to have met you... voice to voice at least. I never thought I'd get to serve on your support team. I've heard so many of the stories. About War and you. I mean DEN MOTHER... hard to keep track of her many names sometimes. Maybe when this all blows over... when we get back to the Leviathan... we can go get a-

"Enough. Focus on the mission, FLY GIRL The present. What happens afterward will happen then. Right now is all that matters. Do your first assignment right, and you'll have a long future with the U.S.S. Opportunities. Don't screw anything up."

"I understand. I won't sir, I promise. I didn't make it through all the training to trip up now of all times. You stay as safe as possible down there, you'll be out in no time. Good luck, Agent HUNK."

"To you as well, FLY GIRL. Welcome to the team. Alpha Team leader, over and out."

HUNK disconnected the communication channel, lowering his hand slowly from the side of his helmet, and unconsciously moving it to the underside of his TMP. Holding the weapon in both hands, but not at the ready. He lowered his stare slightly, from the top of the staircase and back down to the bottom he stood at, contemplating numbly the matters that had developed since he woke in the library. The new member of his support team was of little concern to him. Although NIGHTHAWK was more experienced and skilled, and undoubtedly more up to date on the situation than FLY GIRL, she had to have some experience to be doing what she was. She would pass along his message, and after he evacuated he could see to the matter of Echo Team... among other things. He was in the dark, more than he cared to be right now. Even as he should have been focusing on his mission alone, it was proving more difficult than usual... for his tired mind not to wander. To wonder.

HUNK was by no means a high ranking employee... Nikolai had been right about that much, right about his lack of truly existing. Beyond a reputation, he had little official power in the company... it was hard to have any when you operated behind the scenes. Black ops, for the bidding of others. Who he had been trained by... the vast power she held, didn't change that. His past connection to her was irrelevant... and it was better off that way. Breaking free from her... earning his way, instead of it still being handed to him. He had a leadership role in the U.S.S's field operations... he was sought after... and he would take that any day over gaining power by sitting behind a desk for years doing paper work. His actions and skills being respected... or feared. It was enough for him. Ambition was not among his traits... never had been... not like War or her other two disciples who had left Umbrella, most likely. Assuming they weren't dead. He chose to leave that foolishness for the scientists and bureaucrats, the Board of Directors, to argue among themselves. More than once he had been sent to clean up one of their messes, in one way or another. Scientists were both the most important, and most dangerous entities in the company, even compared to the U.S.S. The Mansion Incident, and now the Raccoon City outbreak stood testament to that much. It was rapidly becoming a world of viruses and bioweapons... and yet, while his own kind was not in power, their existence in the corporate field of espionage would probably always be necessary.

Someone had to get their hands dirty doing the hard work at the end of the day... and it would never be the official employees. He was not sure if it was contempt he felt for them... those higher ups. He owed them for giving him a cause, a purpose for his skills, and a place... yet time and time again, Umbrella made stupid errors. Now that he considered it, it was amazing it had taken this long for an outbreak on the scale of Raccoon City. He supposed his role with Umbrella was no different than a military soldier working for their government. Always it was the soldiers who died fighting for a cause that was not their own. Lives thrown away to satisfy someone a thousand miles away safely. When that happened, HUNK thought back to his lessons from the instructors War had made available to him in England. Lessons of history had been among them... medieval times... or ancient eras... to kings, generals... who would not have been either, were they not capable of fighting on the front lines side by side with those lives they commanded. Leonidas... Alexander the Great, Richard The Lionheart, The Leper King... Henry V... even Vlad the Impaler.

Whether cruel or fair rulers, or anything in between... that's how it was back then. Even if royal and noble titles were inherited, command and respect was earned in the field of combat. Not that it wasn't like that at all anymore in modern times... but it had been reduced to a far smaller scale. Too many people didn't earn anything anymore... take any risks, or do anything with what they inherited, were given to them than their betters. War had, at least. And HUNK could say by now that he earned his position as well, and that it had nothing to do with nepotism. Unfathomable favoritism of someone much more powerful towards him. Not anymore. His missions proved that, even if some whispered otherwise. His jaw tightened within the mask. He had been given a chance... and had succeeded in being his own agent. Even if she had left him anyways, in the end.

How many others in the world who could still say that was probably shrinking yearly. Yes, people like himself would always be needed in one form or another... but those in charge still found a way to minimize even that necessity. To say nothing of the Tyrant program. It offered the chance of a super soldier, entirely obedient, not requiring rest or sleep... but had yet to be perfected. He'd trained against some of the earlier ones at Rockfort Island in 96'... similar to, but not quite the same as this Pursuer. Inferior models. He remembered all too well the stunned faces of the observing scientists... of the silently livid Colonel Vladimir, when he had revealed the faults in their designs. Remembered Commander Ashford's posh, effeminate laughter over the gunfire, at the Colonel's expense. Giggling and patting the giant, stony faced Cold War veteran on the shoulder in mock sympathy. The elaborately uniformed young man applauding his combat performance, more amused than HUNK had ever seen him. How long would it take for Umbrella to work out the rest of the kinks? If that day ever happened, he and his men would no longer be required in the same role they were in... they would be replaced in most roles by mutations, experimentation... mere abominations. Many within Umbrella wanted that... wanted genetic robots, to be easily controlled if need be. Modified any which way. How long before they got that wish?

And then there was the Undertaker Unit. The 'Trashsweepers.' Another B.O.W. project in progress, for cleaning up messes. Time would tell how that experiment turned out... apparently the signs were promising enough to keep funneling money into the program. He wondered how long it was before the next iteration of his Alpha Team was pitted against the Undertaker Unit at Rockfort Island. He welcomed the possible challenge.

No, the U.S.S. did not overtly question Umbrella... they would continue to fight for the company in any way possible... the best of the best, but the company had always been shrewd. If the day came where they could save cash and improve efficiency by replacing the U.S.S. Agents with B.O.W. ones... well. Umbrella would do it in a heartbeat. Everything would change. Again. Of course, that was assuming the company survived their arrogant mistake with Raccoon City. Only time would tell. Their attention was likely to be divided many other ways, soon. As he considered the subject of the B.O.W.'s, his mind returned to the Pursuer's mutilated inhuman face. It had been sent to the city purposefully, of course... and to eliminate the S.T.A.R.S. as well as study their new experiment... but were those the only reasons? Had those who sent it thought for a moment that he was in the city as well? That it would cross his path and prove another obstacle? Or had they not known about his secret operation? Had it been a mistake? His discontent had been gradually growing since he woke in the sewer. And only worsened upon hearing his evacuation had been scrambled. While he knew who had done that particular thing... was the person in question alone? And was that the limits of what he or other parties were up to?

Did someone within the company want him dead? Apart from Vladimir and Nikolai, of course. It was entirely possible... more than once training against their creations at Rockfort Island he had sent scientists back to the drawing board. He'd probably set himself up as a target of ire for these same scientists progressively building better and better B.O.W.'s... their bitterness over his continued, mounting victories remaining. And then there were the scientists at the Umbrella Paris Facility. Their whispers about him and the Comtesse. If that were the case... then someone must have been happy to know their experiment, this advanced Pursuer, was being sent out into the same field he was in... and without his team to back him up. In his minds eye, as his true eyes narrowed beneath the mask, he could almost see bets being placed between himself and the Tyrant... or just plain old fashioned bets over his survival, as he knew had been done before. Those aboard the Leviathan especially. Too many of them saw it only as a game... a way to get ahead, advancement... only the U.S.S. truly saw the mission. And saw it through. Even the U.B.C.S. almost did the same. While he had contempt for mercenaries, for Colonel Vladimir, the veteran was talented at what he did. Or he never would have risen to Lord Spencer's side... earned his way. Under ordinary circumstances, the mercenaries would have been efficient. But there had been nothing ordinary about it.

The mercenaries had been thrown into a situation like Raccoon City that they'd not been briefed properly on. No... they weren't real company employees in his book, most of them were criminals... but the last images he had of Captain Viktor continued to poke and prod at him. Intrude upon his thoughts. His attempt to defend Central Street Station from the undead, even while injured as he had been. His solemn request of HUNK. His request of Valentine. Pushing her to safety and attempting to take on the Pursuer himself. Buying them the time they needed to reach this point. Whoever, whatever else he'd been in his life before the U.B.C.S... the Captain had died a soldier's death. One HUNK himself hoped to achieve, one day. Died making a difference... the size of the difference did not matter. It was the best someone who lived on the battlefield could get. Retirement or the life of a civilian was not for him. Was not something he had been made for. There were few things worse than a senseless sacrifice, brought on by poor decision making and incompetence.

Usually from those in charge.

He had to admit... it had likely played a part in the U.B.C.S.'s failure. The fact that there were still surviving mercenaries in the city, regardless of how few, was proof enough that they weren't all incompetent. How much better they would have done under other circumstances, had they been properly informed and trained. No, the outbreak had not been foreseen... but it could have been handled better, and much quicker than either Umbrella or the U.S. Government had responded. If they had heeded Valentine's word in the months leading up to the outbreak, and the word of the other Spencer Mansion survivors, the outcome of all this could have been different. Because they were ignored, the world was going to change when all was said and done, and not for the better. It was all stepping out of the shadows. The cover ups wouldn't work forever. The many he had been apart of would fall apart at some point.

How long before the U.S. Government, and other ambitious world governments and private companies got their hands on enough research data and information to start building their own B.O.W.'s? Their own Tyrants? How about barely secret societies, like Simmons' Family? Would he be dragged forward into the light with the rest when all was exposed? The shadows or company no longer able to conceal him? HUNK could only speculate, as he had upon what had happened to Captain Campbell. In the end, he recognized he could only find his answers by searching for them himself. The day would come where he found out... and he would make his decisions then... but what he had said to FLY GIRL had been correct. Only the here and now mattered. The past could not be repaired. Undone. The future could be predicted, but not truly known for sure. In the present, he had a chance.

The U.S.S. Agent continued to stand at the base of the stairs, not moving a muscle. He was aware, towards the end of his consideration, that Valentine had stopped talking to Oliveira... and that boot steps echoed behind and around him in the hall, moving to him closer... and he knew what would happen next. What had to happen. The continuation of their escape. The footsteps came to a stop directly behind him, and expression vanishing beneath the mask, he heard her voice speak up at last, quietly, yet assuredly. The bitterness and conflict that had been in it earlier now gone, or at least carefully concealed from him.

HUNK had a good idea of which.