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.

26. Chapter 25: Raccoon General Hospital

Evolution-500: Appreciated, fixed that up for the chapter. Though some chapters are going to be longer than others. Wrote a lot of material already back in the day, my writing style at the time, and not every scene can be concise or rapid. Some things need more, especially coming up with new ideas and things to add during the editing process. Most of my next chapters won't be so long, but no promises.

Akira-Hayama: That means more than I can say, it was my original goal to craft a compelling character out of one with untapped potential, do something Capcom hasn't and never will. Its been quite a journey figuring him out, his character and development, and he has much further to go still.

She is indeed. For good and for ill. The fact is the Umbrella characters, most of them at least, are villains, I didn't want to diminish that, but wanted to make them more complicated and human, having reasons for what they are and what they do. Even HUNK is still a villain at the end of the day, an Anti Villain is still a Villain, but I wanted to show what led to a man like him existing. And his potential for becoming better, by whatever degrees that ends up being, dipping his toes in Anti Heroism. I wanted Bella's shadow (Umbrella's shadow really) looming over HUNK the way the Nemesis does over Jill. When you find out who she really is later, everything will become much more clear, I think, and why he is what he is. How entrenched in Umbrella he is, thanks to her.

Yes, I wanted to slow the pace down for that chapter, let the characters breath and grow, do human things, like HUNK looking through her things, talking to his support team, etc. Not everything can be go go go and action all the time. A story needs room to breath, which makes getting to the action more significant. And you'll just have to wait and see how things fare between the star (S.T.A.R.S. lol) crossed couple. Just know I am not for completely sappy happy endings and not for bleak, depressing nihilistic ones. Bittersweet, realistic and earned endings above all. And the giving her that gun, especially what it means to him, was symbolic for sure. A "I'm coming back for that gun (you)." lol. He's a romantic still, but in his quiet, downplayed sort of way. They'll have their time, to speak, and for romance, what can be had in Raccoon City, under the complicated circumstances between them.

Oh, and War is Bella, not a separate character. Also known by the U.S.S. Codename DEN MOTHER. All one in the same, a lady of many names/titles. Like HUNK, really. War and Death, DEN MOTHER and HUNK, Bella and ? (;) lol). There will indeed be more of her going forward.

Thanks for the review, as ever ;).

Rock992: Thank you very much, a story tends to grow in the telling, and I'm glad you and many seem to enjoy mine. means a lot.

Nitus: There's some Naked Snake to HUNK (when he was younger) as well as some Big Boss and Solid Snake for sure, among the many other inspirations that helped me form him the way I have.

LuckyNumber1: Didn't write the whole thing to the song ;) fortunate happenstance, and helped it fit. Sometimes I have trouble coming up with chapter titles, and I realized that song title fit the best, reflected the contents and themes, unlike the lame title I was going to have.

And yes, I like to have other characters with more normal personalities undercut/underscore a strange, complicated man like HUNK lol, even at Umbrella. Not many can relate to him, what he has seen, done and the way the years have shaped him. Not everyone is a dour stick in the mud like him, that's for sure. Though he has his moments, and others can bring glimpses of it out of him.

Guest: Glad you like it ;). And thanks for the heads up on the blue tint thing, went back and fixed it. Just figured blue is Jill's color, so it was more an observation of HUNK's I was focused on, but thanks for the clarification, HUNK would know that even if I didn't.

Close approximation lol. I was definitely inspired by Metal Gear Solid and Splinter Cell's support teams, which work very well for an in field operative character like the Snakes, Sam Fisher, or in this case HUNK. Help flesh out his character and dynamics, provide him a unique cast, and universe potential. Though I see some Doctor Naomi Campbell/Paramedic for Doctor Radames as well. Also James Bond (Novel/Timothy Dalton Bond): HUNK, M: U.S.S. Command/NIGHTHAWK, Q: QUARTERMASTER (Duh) and Miss Moneypenny: Doctor Radames, were another dynamic I had in mind for the characters. It definitely was to show HUNK can't do everything completely alone, isn't the master of everything despite what he is good at. He requires field data, technology, weapons, a benefactor and orders to do what he does, and someone has to provide it. It doesn't take anything away from him, he still pulls off damn impressive feats and has earned his legend, but no soldier/agent does it all alone, and he is still just one man within Umbrella, despite the place he has carved out there.

cipher66: I like to use much of the material in a big universe like Resident Evil, even the more obscure stuff lol. Might as well, Capcom has forgotten the majority of their own universe and its potential anyways.

Arkham Knight: The Umbrella politics/dynamics/power struggles/treason/intrigue will come into play more over time. I wanted the characters to be fleshed out, even the villains, with their motives and in fighting and feuds, etc. Most Resident Evil villains are very one dimensional, so I wanted to fix that a bit. HUNK is the perfect POV for the world of Umbrella... he isn't at the top, but is at a certain position within the company where he has seen a lot and is held in high regard. Has powerful benefactors who can keep him appraised of things. And he has seen and done a lot of the company's dirty work, been with them long enough. And when you find out who Bella is, you will really understand why he is who he is, and why he has seen so much. HUNK is in deeply, you might say over his head, but it allows great story and character opportunities. Other Umbrella characters will pop up later too, and flesh out Umbrella and the villains further. Never forget HUNK is one of them at this time, a complicated Anti Villain is still a Villain at the end of the day. And yes, Leon, Claire and Sherry have escaped Raccoon City by now. Lucky them, not so lucky everyone still stuck in the city lol. Jill's research into Umbrella seemed a good way to bring up the two journalists digging up dirt on Umbrella lol.

ACuriousCat: Actually no, Doctor Ethan was a minor character at the Raccoon General Hospital in the original Resident Evil 3 and Resident Evil Outbreak, not the same Ethan lol. Ethan appears to be the character's last name, or at least only name he is referred to, so I added it.

Timeline isn't confusing. It takes place in late September to early October, Raccoon City, during Resident Evil 2 and 3. 7 takes place in 2014, so is a long way off in the timeline, hasn't happened yet.

HUNK's relationship dynamic with Carlos is much different than his one with Jill, to say the least. Both men are working for Umbrella, Carlos is an extroverted, emotional, outgoing, friendly young man, a rookie mercenary with the U.B.C.S. a paramilitary organization which HUNK deeply resents and dislikes thanks to Colonel Vladimir and his distaste for mercenaries. That said, HUNK is fair, and their dynamic will be explored and change in time. They're headed away from Jill and will be working together for a time to save her. You just might get a Buddy Cop Show between them soon enough. Him even calling Carlos "Corporal" means a lot, acknowledging him by his rank as a soldier instead of a mercenary/subordinate. HUNK believes respect is earned, not freely given, and Carlos is gradually earning it. You'll see how it turns out.

Longer chapters take awhile to edit, of course, plus I come up with more ideas/additions along the way, which takes longer too. And I'm writing a much shorter but similar story set during this story about two other particular Resident Evil characters. Won't spoil who just yet.

Nightroad816: This story takes place in 1998, in my version of the story Carla she hasn't met/gotten involved with Simmons. She isn't working for him. Yet. She's with Umbrella, for numerous reasons, among them I wanted to flesh her out more as an actual character than Resident Evil 6 did. Add to her and expand, modify where I think it fits, like I am many characters. Establish her as someone other than the insane Ada replica she ends up, the woman she was before all that, and leading to that drastic shift. Carla had great potential I don't think was properly realized in Resident Evil 6, that is one of the many things I want to remedy, add some substance.

Reptaliator: A lot of ladies are attracted to bad boys, especially infamous dangerous men like him. He hasn't necessarily 'hooked up' with many women, but he does attract many women, lives up to his codename for a reason. Its gotten him in more hot water than not though, his legendary status seems great on paper and from the outside, but is everything but for the man himself. Though for Jill's attraction there was an attraction to the element of danger and mystery to him, grabbing her like he did when they first met, but she quickly glimpsed there was something more in there he was keeping hidden, and that 'good' in him is what she is primarily drawn to. Rooting it out, finding it. A lady like her wants to save a man like him. And Bella wasn't first attracted to the 'bad boy' HUNK, she had him before he was one, attracted to the good young man he was, before the codenames, the good man Jill glimpses within the armor, and Carla gets a sense of too. Bella got to see the start of his transformation, and molded him into becoming what he was. It's complicated, but will be delved into more. The years, experiences, missions and Bella leaving him wore him down into the bitter Anti Villain we meet by the time the story takes place. The man who really needs a Jill and situation like Raccoon City to help jumpstart his humanity again, remember who he was, and who he is. Recognize what he has become under Umbrella. He's been living on autopilot for a long time.

HUNK had Matilda in Umbrella Chronicles instead of Leon, and it was much better in that game than the other games featuring her, so I decided to add her to his arsenal and add a plot reason to it. Also for this story I have changed the type of pistol HUNK's Matilda is, you will find out what it is later in the story. Leon meanwhile also has a sidearm named Matilda by chance, and is the original model of the pistol. If they ever meet, they're going to have a lot to talk about lol.

The relationship between HUNK and NIGHTHAWK is based on the Umbrella Chronicles incarnation of them, watch it on Youtube for sure, two veteran U.S.S. Agents familiar with each other, seen and done it all, professionals, no fanboyism or resentment. There's a bit of "LONE WOLF" from Operation Raccoon City in there for NIGHTHAWK, LONE WOLF being his equivalent. I didn't like fanboy NIGHTHAWK in the RE 2 remake, but added the fan aspect through FLY GIRL because I think that's an essential part to a famous/legendary figure like HUNK, he's going to pick up many fawning admirers and fans. When he really really really doesn't want them or to be famous in the company, the weight of it all. He is a very introverted man outside the battlefield, uncomfortable with being around most others, and popularity isn't something he was made for, but he is anyways because he's damn good at what he does, the best in Umbrella. He prefers to be around few he 'trusts' or alone with his thoughts.

As for the rest of that, spoilers, just have to wait and see ;).

Out of the frying pan, into the fire. Time for our intrepid heroes to venture forth again, for Jill, to whatever untold horrors await:

---

September 30th, 1998, 9:52 PM

Piano Room, Saint Michael Clock Tower, Northern Raccoon City

The architecture was little different from that of the main hall, with white stone fine pillars along the walls, connected to the ceiling... there was a fancy illuminated chandelier directly over HUNK's head, one of three hanging from the ceiling, but these weren't the only electrical lights around the room. Furthermore, there was glass scattered all over the marble floor... the cause of which, he was certain, moving his eyes over to the left side of the room, was the infected corpses littering the ground. Two great picture windows had been smashed apart, beyond each flames leap high, in likely another part of the clock tower... it was difficult to see beyond the window, with all the fire and smoke... but it hadn't spread into the piano room beyond the glass... it probably wouldn't have mattered if it did, there were few flammable objects in the room anyways, beyond a small section of carpet beneath the large, sleek, open piano on the right hand side of the room. The surfaces didn't lend themselves to help fuel the blaze.

Besides the chapel door, there were two others... one on the wall just past the piano, undoubtedly leading outside into the courtyard, based on the closer proximity of the rain sounds and the moans... and another straight ahead, leading further into the clock tower. Thinking back to the helicopter crash, he was certain he knew which door would need to be taken. The main door in the courtyard to the main hall was undoubtedly buried in the wreckage by now.

Understanding Carlos knew the clock tower better than himself, he'd had no trouble giving the mercenary the point man position... besides, he wanted to keep an eye on Oliveira, and give him a challenge, make sure he had it back together again. HUNK didn't particularly care to admit it, but the young man was a soldier, regardless of his mercenary status. He was too casual for a soldier... but he had the talent, the ability to be a professional. He'd survived this long... that was something. He wasn't' a leader... he needed to be directed for maximum efficiency... that much HUNK had deduced quickly... fortunately, HUNK could be that director. He was too noisy for his own good... blundering often, far more of a straight forward soldier on a battlefield than one with stealth capability. It was something HUNK could respect, something that owed more to an older, better era of warfare, where virtues like honor were respected... but experience had taught him it was more a liability than an asset.

The times required pragmatism... a quality missing from too many soldiers. Constrained by binding rules of warfare handed down by the worthless U.N and its armchair military. There were far older, more realistic rules of warfare, long before the Geneva Convention. War had taught them to him. He was not using Oliveira as bait, not in the least... despite being clearly comforted by Valentine's continued survival, he had to be sure the rookie had recovered from his near breakdown. That he was functioning and capable of bringing the fight to their enemy. Continuing to survive against the odds. Oliveira crossed the room, aiming his rifle at the door, and HUNK followed suit, keeping his MP5 up, laser sight scanning the area ahead of them. When Oliveira reached the door, he glanced back at HUNK standing close behind him, and inclined his head again, grasping the door handle and pushing it open, stepping inside quickly and sweeping the room with his rifle. Until he lowered it, evidently satisfied... but then he started coughing, and rose his arm over his mouth, managing to cough out some words in between at HUNK.

"I was here earlier... god damn it... I need to find a gas mask. Those things smell... disgusting. I'll never get used to it."

"Keep moving."

Carlos stepped further inside, and following him, pausing on the spot, HUNK found himself in the spacious tower dining room... and he took in all the details with one sweeping look. The room resembled something even more medieval and Victorian than some other parts of the clock tower... with a long stretching fine wooden table, lined with empty plates, shiny cutlery and lit candles. There was no table cloth on the sleek surface... but it looked as though it didn't even need one. All along the walls were ornaments including criss crossing swords, shields, and at the far end of the room, away from them, were another pair of stain glass windows, along with an unlit fireplace. The ceiling above looked like it had been carpeted with a kingly red and blue design... everything about the place screamed of nobility, and decadence. Little different from the Spencer Mansion had been, Commander Ashford's residence at Rockfort Island, or Chateau Henri in Loire Village... and HUNK had no time for any of it... the elaborateness.

It was a piece of history, and didn't deserve destruction, but it didn't particularly matter to him if it was. He preferred function to fashion any day. The entire clock tower was merely one big tourist location for Umbrella's image maintenance, from the look of everything he had seen inside it... he wasn't that. Part of Umbrella's good public image. His function and existence was unofficial, and denied to the world. He owed more to the world the rest of what the room had to offer... the bullet ridden corpses of former infected and mutations, and shell casings all over the floor. The battle that had taken place at some point. A single glance told him they were from an M4, and at once he knew it to be Carlos's, his words only confirming it.

While there were a number of badly rotted, dead infected he had to step over... there were two more things that had been shot up... in the past day, most of the gore was dried up... but it remained sticky enough to cling to their boots. Two... mutations, irregular mutations. It took him no more than a few moments to place the last time he'd seen them... in the maintenance area, back Downtown... he had seen them dead there, while he had seen them alive beneath the city. Guarding the nest he had destroyed in the sewer... with their pods. He remembered the nest all at once... the moans and screams, pleading for him to kill them. His compliance. The screams of the worms mother. It was three of the hairy, multi limbed and double headed, filthy mutations, laying in twin puddles of green gore. They resided close to the wooden pair of doors Carlos was walking over to, still holding his arm over his nose. Some of their limbs had been shot off, and were laying some distance away from their former owners.

Their mouths, or what could barely be called one, were twisted, as though screaming silently, even now. He wondered how much Doctor Radames would want to inspect the corpses of these mutations and the many others... assuming SHIPMASTER would have even allowed them aboard the ship without personally hosing them down with a flamethrower first. She didn't strike him like most of the other Umbrella scientists, there was nothing cold, ambitious or cruel to her, nor mad scientist related... but she was always curious. One had to be in her field. He had no doubt the next time he called her from the hospital she would request data from the Umbrella laboratory there... and whatever Bard had been working on. As she had in the past on other missions. It would be a simple enough request to satisfy for her. HUNK took no more than another single look at everything, moving solidly through the dining room, as Carlos waited, perhaps a bit impatiently, by the door, very clearly eager to put some distance between the room and himself. Before HUNK even reached him, he had popped open the door leading into the clock tower's main hall, and stepping through, moving out of the doorway and further on into the hall. Breathing hard, inhaling the fresh, or at least fresher air the far more open space had to offer. HUNK followed suit out of the dining room, closing the door behind him, the echo emanating as the light did through the main hall as he entered it... only to return to silence, seconds after.

While Carlos moved out from under the archway and past the closest stone pillar and over to the clock design emblazoned at the foot of the main stairwell they all had gone up two days prior, HUNK was content stopping beside the pillar. Glancing down quite calmly to find Campbell's body again, its position unchanged... but the state of his flesh beginning to deteriorate even further, and the blood puddle drying up. While Carlos caught his breath and regained his composure, as he had done to the other rooms, HUNK surveyed the main hall of the clock tower. Although he had seen it before and remembered how it had looked entirely... he studied it to see how much it had changed since the helicopter crash. HUNK's side of the hall was was very much intact... but further on down, past Carlos, was another story altogether.

All the bodies from long before, when Valentine and himself had headed out to the courtyard, remained, some of their rotting heads splattered all over the floor, courtesy of shotgun. Their blood long dried beneath them by now. By now, Carlos seemed as desensitized to bodies as HUNK, barely paying them any heed. Several pillars around the main hall had been smashed apart, and lay in pieces all over the marble floor... which its self was badly cracked in many places... and that wasn't all. Another pillar lay across the main door out to the courtyard, rendering it inaccessible on both sides. Above all, the most damage had been done to the stairwell. A piece of the helicopter, evidently, had smashed through from high above and landed with great force on the stair case, crushing the lower quarter of it... it would take some time to scale over the debris to head up to the second floor... thankfully, it was unlikely to prove to be a necessity. There were some small sections higher up on the wall facing the courtyard that had badly cracked, with parts of their concrete broken loose, having rained down on the main hall as well during the crash. After his brief survey of the damage done to the main hall, he moved silently away from the pillar and Campbell's corpse, and sensing him, Carlos, who had by now been studying the damage as well, glanced back at him and let out a low, impressed whistle that carried through the clock tower.

"Damn... I didn't think it would do this kind of destruction on the inside...", Carlos spoke honestly, his voice echoing through the hall, regardless of him not raising it. He looked over to the entrance blockaded by debris on this side of it. "I figured the front door and side of the tower took all the damage... guess it just got the brunt."

HUNK inclined his head once, very slightly, and gestured with his submachine gun for the Corporal to keep moving... which, he did, the slight smirk being knocked from his face at the silent reaction to his words. Turning, he obeyed and continued on slowly towards the library door. HUNK followed again at once, his boots crunching over pieces of the marble and stone columns floors... and while Carlos stepped around the bodies in their path below the destroyed stairs, HUNK stepped over them. Tracking a mixture of the thick green paste from the mutations, and the blood of the undead, across the otherwise clean floor of the hall... besides the second trail formed by Oliveira boots as well.

He already had the door open, and was poking the barrel of his rifle through by the time HUNK had reached his position, and giving the hand signal that it was all clear, HUNK followed him back inside the library, his eyes under the mask scanning everything once with familiarity. He glanced over to the left side of the room that combined a library and a study, to the table he had woken at... well, the second time in the course of the operation he had woken. Remembering Valentine hovering over him, examining him... her burnt hands, and her attempt to remove his mask. Part of him had wanted to let her take it off... satisfy her curiosity... but some impulse had stopped him. Some guard rising on its own, to not get closer to her than he had been. The mask separated them, him in his world, she in hers. Let him be just one more faceless Umbrella goon to her. They were both better off that way. He had already let his professionalism slip far too much. What was he doing right now? Sidetracking from his mission... for her. He still felt that impulse telling him he was wrong and stupid to do so. Doubt. To go out of his way like this, for one civilian woman. The excuses he had given NIGHTHAWK had been poor ones... flimsy. War, U.S.S. Command, the Board Of Directors, Comtesse Henri, Lord Spencer and Colonel Vladimir... all of them wouldn't do what he was. He knew he was pissing off many within Umbrella he served... and he was going to have a hell of a time explaining his actions, when he returned to the Leviathan, and for his report. Perhaps they would accept it as long as they got their G-Virus... but it was an action he knew would carry consequences, whether it even succeeded or not.

The Umbrella Agent didn't remember making a decision like this one. Nor questioning himself as much as he was over one. He had made up his mind... even if it fought against him... and he would not reverse himself. He would succeed, recover the vaccine, or die in the attempt. He possessed the authority and responsibility to do what he was. That was all that mattered.

When Carlos stopped, HUNK looked his way again, to find him examining the dead, infected creature he had thrown Valentine's knife into. The rotting old woman in the blue dress who had in all likelihood been the librarian remained in her exact position... although not, it seemed, the same position Carlos remembered her in. Even with the old woman unmoving beside the book cases, he kept his rifle trained on her as he spoke... a force of habit, really, and far from a bad one to get into. Given the nature and power of the T-Virus.

"Ah... missed one I guess. I was looking in here before Jill and you showed up here, you were out cold at the time. The train crash.", Carlos explained slowly, glancing between the old woman's spot, the deep stab wound in the side of her head, and where she had been before. He released a bitter, tired laugh, shaking his head. Looking back in the direction of HUNK's reflective red lenses. "This was just another body, behind the book case. I suppose it must have been not quite dead enough, and you two took care of it. That's happened more than once, especially in piles... some body's rising, others not. Some of them seem to fall into an unconscious state... not sure if it's natural, or them lying in wait, a deliberate trap. At this point I'm considering just shooting every body in the head that we pass. I don't want to be one of those poor unlucky bastards who end up in a sticky situation when a zombie manages to actually sneak up on them at the worst time, you know what I'm saying?"

"Not a bad policy. Would have to be an idiot to allow that to happen to you."

HUNK did understand, entirely... better safe than sorry, one of the many mottoes that applied to this whole scenario. Though he remembered Valentine forbidding him from doing as much to her infected former coworker, Lieutenant Branagh. For some reason, even then, that early on he had relented, acceded to her demand. Aided her in carrying the man over to a couch when he proved too heavy for her. The thought rankled at him, as it had then, as he had done it. Still not knowing why he had. No more than he could explain his growing weakness. Oliveira nudged the body with his boot once... and satisfied, he finally turned from the dead old woman, and made his way past the book shelves, and over to the bullet ridden door closest to them. It remained closed, but with the lock shot off by someone in Echo Team, this was not entirely the case. It was open about a crack, and Carlos had made the mistake of looking through it earlier, when he didn't have to. Now? He had no choice... but at the time, he could have avoided the sight waiting for them in the next hall altogether.

Carlos paused, with his hand holding the cool metal of the door handle... hesitated. He had no doubt HUNK would be unmoved... but it would be another story for himself altogether... even now, after everything he had seen... he didn't think he could get used to the idea of giant, mutated, web spinning spiders, even dead ones. Why... why the hell did it always have to be spiders? Carlos could feel HUNK's stare, undoubtedly judging him silently from off to the side, probably noting the painful attempt to hold back his own fear, something he wasn't quite succeeding with... but breathing again hard, and swallowing the lump in his throat, Carlos knew he had to go through with it, had to prove himself to the agent. That he could handle whatever lie ahead of them.

Bodies of mutations... no matter how horrible, would not prevent him from saving Jill. He thought of her, atop the alter... and the rest was easy. Expression hardening, albeit forcibly, on the door Carlos drew his boot back and kicked it open... not much of a feat, considering the lock was already shot off, but the attempt a bravado gave him courage, and something to focus on. Hurtling into the hallway, rifle swiveling, Carlos surveyed it, noting the remains instantly, but holding the disgust at bay long enough to ensure there were no living ones here to replace their numbers. Nothing stirred... and slowly, very slowly, as HUNK joined his side again in the cobwebbed corridor, he lowered his rifle... forcing his poker face expression to remain, in spite of how pale he felt looking at the carnage. HUNK's trained eyes took it all in, unphased to find the remains of more Web Spinners in the area.

Someone had beaten them to it, down this corridor... undoubtedly the same someone they had found the U.B.C.S. evacuation orders on, and the Mine Thrower. Monitor or not, Campbell had inadvertently made things easier for them, HUNK couldn't deny. The dusty old floors of the dank corridor was lined with rifle shell casings, bullet holes, green gore splattered on the walls and ground, and the remains of not only a half dozen huge Web Spinners, with their insides and multiple limbs scattered and broken... but their numerous young. Along with what had been a man webbed up in he corner of the hall, drained of all his fluids, emaciated and skeletal in appearance, the flesh almost like wet paper. The former man's remains stared at them vacantly, as though trapped in a hell that defied imagination... even being dead as he was. The hall was all too shut in and claustrophobic, besides a window closed behind the webbed up man's remains. Not only that, the decorations were surprisingly bland and the colors muted in comparison to the rest of the elaborate clock tower... but it had some small pillars and old paintings along the way.

There were few lights... darkness mostly prevailed, but the light showed more than enough, and gave neither of them a reason to flick on their flashlights. There was a single bend in the hall, around the left hand corner closest to them... but HUNK, as Carlos did, paid more attention to the scene of carnage that had preceded their presence in the clock tower... HUNK impressed, and Carlos a mixture of being impressed as much as he was revolted. Thankfully, about the only good thing that could be drawn from any of the situation, was that the remains of the spiders did not smell quite as revolting as the mutated fleas. It was still far less than pleasant, but more bearable at least. He took what he could get. He watched the remains a little longer, a chill running down his spine and goosebumps forming... some part of him deep down expected at any moment the all too long, inhuman limbs to twitch and move. Even knowing as he did that they had been dead for days... and even they wouldn't be coming back. At least, he hoped. The city offered nothing but unpleasant, horrific surprises.

Like before, he had to will himself to take the strong and proper course of action, and not to back down. He moved down the hall carefully, keeping his eyes out, boots crunching over the remains of the smaller spider offspring, splattering them to bits under his foot. He could feel HUNK keeping a close pace behind him, even if he couldn't hear the man... and he found himself greatly appreciative to have the strange man here. It was possible he could have pulled it off on his own... Carlos didn't know, but either way the backup of a professional made it immeasurably easier. The two of them walked steadily over and past the remains, stepping around the corner... there was a smashed picture frame on the wall facing them. Stepping around the second corner more quickly, Carlos and HUNK focused far more on the far end of the next hall, examining it carefully, ready in case there were any more mutations crawling about. Fortunately, it didn't appear to be the case... there was a great deal of webbing along the walls, floor and ceiling, but no creatures in sight, be it alive or dead... it was a relief, but Carlos kept his rifle at the ready... they had a way about coming out of nowhere, and he was past taking chances.

Carlos began to move quicker after deeming it secure, passing down the last corridor and some windows on the right side of the hall, until he reached the only door on the left, grasping it and pushing through it with no hesitance. Stepping inside and sweeping the room, while HUNK moved in after, closing the door and covering him. Moans emanated from inside the room the Corporal and him had entered, followed immediately by a trio of powerful rifle shots, bodies hitting the ground, and silence. From his position, HUNK looked past Carlos to find three twitching former women, now infected in tattered dresses, each with a shot through the head, leaking brains, bone and blood. Carlos shook his head, muttering under his breath.

"Sorry ladies. Buffet's closed."

They had been huddled together over top of a fourth woman's body, biting ravenously on it, when the meal had been cut short. Like the corridor, Carlos at last deemed the area secure. Expression lined with disgust for the creatures he'd put down, he lowered his rifle to his midsection, taking in the rest of the details of the room slowly. This particular one he had not been inside yet... but it proved no less interesting or notable than any other... and more so than some. It was spacious and fancy, as most of the rooms in the place were, with a embroidered carpet running along the floor and plenty of lights along the wall to greet them... but these weren't the details to strike his eye. It was the numerous assorted, cluttered antiques along the right hand wall all in close proximity to one another, and directly ahead that gave him pause.

The antiques along the right wall consisted of various odds and ends like chairs, artwork propped against them, a tall dark suit of knight's armor over in the corner, a hat rack of all things and other antiques including lamps, urns and pots. Carlos wasn't an antique kind of person, but he couldn't imagine just how much it all must have been worth put together... all he could imagine was dollar signs, at least if the circumstances of everything was different. But then Umbrella had clearly invested into the place from things he had found in his first search of the place. And old man Spencer and his company had a damn near bottomless bank account.

The elaborate designs, architecture and furnishings of the place would have been nothing to the company. Or maybe the decadent Mayor and City Hall had funneled tax payer money into the place. Nothing would surprise him for the people who had a jewel encrusted gate to City Hall. He remembered the emerald he had found, in his pocket, had forgotten it in the past days... after everything, it had been worth nothing. Even now, he let it fall to the side of his mind. His eyes drifted on, down to the far wall... although it wasn't the final wall in the place, indeed, it didn't even rise to the ceiling, but about three quarters up... and there was a path to the back room behind it, just off to the left side of its corner... the objects there interested him more than the antiques, and were probably worth even more than them. Three maiden statues on pedestals faced both Carlos and HUNK, each in a row, and consisting of different tones from left to right.

The one closest to the corner leading to the back room was a shade of amber... while the one in the middle was obsidian, and the third, furthest to the right, was blue, like a crystal of sorts. Transfixed by each, Carlos lowered his rifle once he deemed the room secure, and walked ahead, ignoring anything else in the room's details, and making his way over to them, standing before them and examining each. Other than their tones, arm positions, and what looked to be a different jewel embroided into the center of each statue's head, they were all the exact same in every regard. Each was a young woman, not altogether different looking from the angel woman statue broken out in the courtyard. The smooth stone of each had been finely carved... and each statue consisted of a woman's upper half, clad in a dress or toga of sorts, staring straight ahead, holding a small empty tray of sorts.

The amber maiden's right arm held her tray, while her left was out in front of herself slightly. Whereas the obsidian maiden held her tray in her right, while her left was lowered entirely. By contrast of each, the crystal maiden's right arm was empty of her tray, and was risen in a slightly dainty, proper manner... while her left held the tray flat down at her side.

Whether something had been inside each tray before, Carlos didn't know... but part of him was tempted to pry out the jewel embroidered in each maiden's head, each sparkling enticingly in the light. As he'd found and taken the emerald. Before Raccoon City, before Umbrella... he'd have done it in a heartbeat... but here and now? Survival was a different game altogether... one where currency did not exist... or rather, was weighed far more in bullets. He wasn't sure which way was worse... but he did know which one had less mutations and zombies. And he wasn't doing any of this here and now for his own gain. He was doing it for a vaccine... though whether it would be for the young woman they had left behind in the chapel, or for the world... he didn't know. The U.S.S. Agent still hadn't spoken on that matter, what he was going to do. Even now, not even knowing if they would find the vaccine, he felt the pull of conflict between each, Jill and the rest of the world needing that vaccine. Preventing this from happening again. It was what Jill wanted. He wondered what the conflict in HUNK's mind was on the matter... or if there even was one. What they would... he would decide, in the end. As he stood there studying the details of each, lost momentarily in troubled thought, HUNK started forward after him, but paused in the center of the room.

Although determined to move on and pull Oliveira away from the statues, something in the gallery they had found caught his own attention, briefly. Slowly, HUNK turned his head, looking back slightly to the room's left wall, opposite all the antiques on the right one. It was covered in three separate clocks... not particularly surprising, given the nature of the building they were in... but they were interesting, and ended up making him wonder. Each clock was positioned in the center of a separate painting as a backdrop. The first one had a girl in a dress peering back at him as she sat on an earthy, grassy ground, with a small bean stock sprouting close by, and the sky visible overhead. At the top of each painting were red curtains, as though each was set on a stage. The time on the first clock read twelve o' clock.

The art on the second clock in the middle was bigger than the two other portraits and looked like an older version of the girl, now a lady in a light dress, taller and with longer hair than before. At her feet, what he found he had mistaken for a bean stock, had grown further, and had flowers blooming all along it. By now, the clock had reached nine. His eyes drifted on to the third one, which struck him with a great deal of interest. The girl was now a skeleton in the same dress, gesturing down to the flowers... or what was left over of them after they had shriveled and died. Behind them both, the curtains had fallen entirely, and the hands of time were stuck on midnight on the clock.

Life and death... the beginning, the middle and the end. It made sense... but something about it, particularly the clock in the middle, gave him a thought. The clock in the center had been opened forward slightly, revealing a hollow space within... that could have held next to anything. HUNK's eyes drifted along each clock, and then over, for a moment, to the multiple statues Carlos examined... before turning back to to the three clocks. In his mind's eye, by contrast... he saw a puzzle... another one. He was so used to seeing them in the city, that they no longer seemed particularly strange. Lord Spencer had always had a penchant for puzzles of all kinds as well, he remembered... Bella had told him that herself. She had bought the old man new, increasingly complicated ones as a present to solve on every birthday, and received them on her own birthdays. One of the things they'd had in common and bonded over, there, despite all the other differences that had driven them apart, and her out of the Inner Circle. HUNK had never cared for puzzles himself... but knowing how much she'd enjoyed them, he had gotten them for her on her birthdays as well. Remembered her smile every time she'd opened his present.

At any rate, it was fairly known knowledge around the company... at least the circles he was in. Lord Spencer had had elaborate puzzles in addition to normal security at the Spencer Mansion, up in the Arklay Mountains... sealing off areas below and around it for the facility personnel who had been working beneath, all through the ball he had thrown there ten years ago. That night, after Marcus. Perhaps it was one reason there were so many of them Raccoon City after all. This was... had been... his city. He wondered how Valentine and her team had managed to get past them all at the mansion... another accomplishment that owed to their level of talent. And this room, this clock gallery certainly looked like one more particularly aggravating puzzle... one perhaps related to the last.

HUNK had no way of knowing or proving it... but in his mind's eye, he saw a golden gear laying within the space of the middle clock... before it had been plucked free... and by a hand that had held it, even in his death. Campbell, he'd probably figured out the puzzle, put it all together... and done it. Saved them that potential headache. Again, HUNK found himself almost appreciating the man he'd not known... and a U.B.C.S. Monitor at that. Maybe he hadn't been an entirely useless soldier in life, regardless of his service to Colonel Vladimir, and his inevitable failure. He studied the clocks one more time... the one with the woman's skeleton especially, before he recognized moving on was his only remaining option... time was ticking, and he had an objective. They both had one.

"Enough sight seeing. Let's move."

"Don't have to tell me twice."

Turning on his boot, back to Carlos, he approached the man, who seemed to hear as much and was shaken from his own interest, glancing back at HUNK and shrugging slightly. Before turning his own attention on to the path leading to the back room of the gallery... and stepping away from and past the statues, he took the lead once more. Carlos moved on past the four gore streaked women's corpses and around the corner, rifle at the ready again, with HUNK following closely, laser sight moving over the infected corpses carefully. When Carlos stepped around the corner, he paused once more in the back room, examining it quickly. Illuminated by a hanging light and a lamp, it resembled the inside of a tool shed, of all things... badly cluttered with numerous tools hanging, an overcrowded metal shelf in the corner with various boxes, tins and pieces of equipment... there was even a table and chair to his immediate right.

It wasn't cluttered to the point of being unmanuverable, but he could tell the place was basically an extra storage room for the owners to the clock tower... or had been. Directly in front of them were another few cluttered boxes taking up space in the north west corner... and adjacent to these boxes, on the wall directly ahead was a single rain flecked window in front of them... complete with bars on the outside of it, and the night beyond visible. His eyes moved on to the right, to the most important thing in the back room... the door outside, or to be more accurate, the blocked door leading outside. A large metal bell of sorts, undoubtedly a spare for the one high up in the clock tower, had been placed in front of it... either way, probably a common practice before and during the outbreak, a clever defense on the owner's part. It looked and was undoubtedly quite heavy... and he glanced back slightly to HUNK, who merely gestured for him to proceed. The agent could handle it on his own, of course... but so could Carlos. And taking the role of point man entailed some responsibility he would prove.

"Glad I ate my spinach before we left..."

Looking back ahead to the bell, he didn't bother slinging his rifle, and instead started forward, holding it in his right hand and pushing against the cool copper surface of the clock tower bell. Very slowly it began to shift forward as Carlos strained the sore muscles in his arm, gritting his teeth as he did so. It moved a bit at a time, until at last he pushed it over in the corner in front of the tools and shelf, clearing up the space in front of the doorway. Having accomplished as much, Carlos took the lead, grasping the tall wooden and metal door's handle and pushing it open and readying his assault rifle.

"Open sesame."

At once, the cool fresh air returned welcomely, rushing into the back of the clock gallery, and Carlos paused for a split second in the doorway, drawing in a breath. He kept his rifle to his shoulder, scanning the alley outside the rear exit was connected to. He didn't step outside at once, rather activated the vest mounted swivel headed flashlight on him, which illuminated the flawed brick wall straight ahead that was the side of the building next to the clock tower. He peaked around both corners, and kept his eyes and ears trained. He could hear distant moans, nor see in the torch light the presence of any zombies. Satisfied there was nothing in their immediate vicinity, he gave the all clear hand signal to HUNK, stepping outside and leaving his flashlight running.

Although there was already a small light above the door, it was dim and inefficient... and the last thing Carlos wanted was a creature emerging from the trash and debris strewn left side of the alley, including various boards and trash cans in the darkness. He was immediately resoaked in the pouring rain, before even the previous bout of rain he'd encountered had even had a chance to dry more than partially... but like before, he welcomed the downpour. The cool, rejuvenating sensation. HUNK followed him outside, closing the door silently behind him, wisely at that, in case any were close enough to hear a door slam. Carlos lowered his rifle, an action HUNK copied at once, when he too was satisfied the immediate area was clear.

It was then that the clock tower began to chime out into the night... both Carlos and HUNK looking in the direction of the sound. Carlos looked at his watch, and sure enough it had struck ten. And rang as many times. Despite the damage that had been done to it, it continued to function stubbornly, as it had every hour on the hour in the chapel while the others had been unconscious. If muffled from where they had been holed up. HUNK was the first to look away from it as the final chimes rang, returning focused on their objective.

When the rings had passed, Carlos followed HUNK's look down the right side of the alley... there was little to make out from their position, other than the cracked pavement leading out of the alley and on to Park Road. But there was a tall cast iron fence past the road with tall green shrubbery and trees visible beyond it... the fencing belonging to Raccoon Park, obviously... other than that, it was anyone's guess. Well, there was no room for guesses... he heard the moans, and somebody needed to take a look. Carlos started forward, his flashlight helping illuminate the path towards the road... but before he could reach more than half way, boots splashing though the many puddles, the cool authoritative voice behind him broke his silence again, freezing him mid stride on the spot.

"Stop where you are, Oliveira."

HUNK commanded the subordinate, tone low and quiet, so as to not potentially give away their position to the moaning infected in the distance. His tone was nevertheless audible and sharp enough to gain his attention at once. He remained where he was in the alley in front of the door to the clock gallery, MP5 lowered down in both hands, standing at attention in silence, in the rain, which beat down on audibly against his battle scarred helmet and ran over his mask, lenses and armored vest, soaking into it. Carlos watched some of the lingering blood and grime stains starting to trickle down under HUNK's boots, leaving the water there murky. The downpour steadily cleaning him. The film of water on his dark grey bodysuit made it look black, especially with the shadows around him. The equally drenched Carlos turned his body fully around, near the edge of the alley, looking back to to the U.S.S. Agent... and the moment he did, HUNK continued, remaining on the spot.

"We're not proceeding to the hospital blindly and hoping for the best. Hold this position. I'm going to contact my source for satellite data. We've come too far to blunder into any deathtraps or ambushes and fail the objective."

"Hey, you won't hear any objections on my end, sir."

Carlos replied with a trace of a smirk, running a hand through his hair and slicking it back in the rain. He glanced back over his shoulder to the road he had nearly went out to, and the gate beyond it, listening to the moans. Before turning back around to face HUNK, and stepping back further into the alley, taking cover against the closest brick wall, and holding his ground as ordered. Aiming the rifle towards the road, standing guard of the position while HUNK would take care of things. His eyes and flashlight swiveled between to road, and the rooftops of the buildings above... zombies were sure to be the least of their troubles out in the open... the other mutated freaks were another story entirely. He wasn't about to lower his guard out here.

"I've had enough surprises for one night. I'll take what help I can get, at this point. It'd be a switch to be in the know about something bad ahead of time, for once. The nuke notwithstanding."

HUNK took note of the young man's words, but did not acknowledge them, remaining where he was a little ways from the mercenary. In hindsight, Oliveira made a good point... HUNK should have checked in more often for battle data and the Umbrella Satellite Network before now, with NIGHTHAWK... at least, before he had been rendered unconscious. He supposed he would have more often, had not he run into Valentine... he had gotten so used to having an expert on the ground with him, someone who knew the terrain of the battlefield well, that he had not thought to check the satellite grid for advanced data. More aid from his support team. A mistake, perhaps, relying upon her as much as he had... but there were worse ones he could have made. He had made use of her expertise... as he did the members of any team he assembled. Still, with Umbrella the aspects of war was changing... and he recognized that if he did not keep up with them, the changes, the technology, he would be left behind in the dust. It would never happen, of course... an agent adapted, or died... but sometimes he missed the simple things in war, the way it used to be. Before the outbreaks he had been sent to clean up.

No matter, he'd trained with more advanced technology than most people ever got their hands on, and had mastered them fine. His time withe QUARTERMASTER in the labs had been insightful, and he always looked forward to the latest weapons, equipment and tech. Technology was an addition to a person, not the equivalent of the one using it. Advanced technology was a useful tool, like all others, but could not be a substitute for an agent. Or for team work. In a team, a full unit like the one he normally led, things were much different, and simpler in many ways... not that he always favored simple. He supposed he had just gotten used to operating in a large team lately, not by himself, and very limited numbers like he did more often in the past. However miserably the mission had thus far gone... it was a lesson, one he would take to the next mission. There was always another. Though he knew there would not be another like Raccoon City. He rose his hand to his helmet, and activated the communicator within both it and his mask, pressing it down, and speaking in, his low, assured tone filling the communication channel.

"NIGHTHAWK, this is HUNK, reporting in."

There was barely a pause on the channel... NIGHTHAWK picked it up at once, his own familiar tone returning a mere moment later.

"Copy that. Go ahead, Agent HUNK."

"Oliveira and myself are in position, in an alley just outside the clock tower's back door. We should be registering on a visual scan. I checked my equipment thoroughly, and my tracking devices weren't broken in the encounter with the Tyrant."

HUNK replied to his contact immediately, looking up into the rainy, cloudy skies above, the rain washing down over his lenses, but he peered on, unperturbed... and in his mind's eyes, could see himself, hazy perhaps in the bad weather, but registering on the Umbrella Satellite Network. Nothing but the best for Lord Spencer. For all he knew, the old man was looking in personally on what was happening within the city. Watching an apocalypse within his city unfolding from the comfort of his bedroom in one of his mansions. It would not have surprised him. Lord Spencer's megalomaniac ambitions spanned the entire world and reached as high as space. And then there were all the Umbrella cameras around the city... and the cameras he had wanted them to film Operation: NESTWRECKER with. Well... he had wanted a show. No doubt he had one now, worthy of him. HUNK ignored the muffled thumping of the rain on his mask and helmet, and slowly his gaze lowered and drifted on to the road just past Oliveira's position.

"We should be close to the hospital's main entrance from here... the road to it is within sight. I need you to run a scan of the area, of the front of the hospital, and let me know the current state. I can hear some of the infected from my location, but I'd like to know how many of them there are ahead of time, in case we need to find a different way inside."

"Understood, Mr Death... I would hate to send you in through the sewers, again. The tech boys are accessing the satellite grid's current database and telemetry now. Give them a minute."

"Yes."

HUNK did exactly that, remaining where he was in the rain, ignoring Oliveira's occasional attempt to make eye contact. Like everything else, he noted and filed it away, along with his concerned expression... for the moment his mind pondered far more important matters the Oliveira's worries. He pondered whether they would make it on time... how long before Valentine either succumb to her infection, or bled out, and succumb to her infection.

Either option, in the absence of the vaccine seemed as likely as the other... true Oliveira had patched her up, but how long would that help for? Her wounds had been grave, and neither HUNK or Oliveira were medical doctors or professional surgeons, probably the only people who could really set her right again, apart from the cure. HUNK knew aid in the field, as did the mercenary... but he had been taught first and foremost to take lives, not to save them. Doing the opposite was... to say the least, different. Infinitely so. For the time being, he would have to force himself to get used to the odd concept. He had little else in the way of options at that moment. His pondering after awhile was interrupted by another swell of static on his communicator, and he listened closely to the voice on the other end.

"Ok, they've drawn up the satellite array, HUNK. According to what we're seeing, between past and present imaging scans, the majority of infected that used to be in the area has moved off towards separate hordes in town, away from the hospital. Are stuck behind obstacles, cars, not in your immediate path. As for the present, there looks to be about... a dozen or more infected shambling around the front entrance. Nothing you can't handle."

"What about B.O.W.'s and mutations? The Tyrant? Survivors?"

"No sign of any at the moment, but I can't speak for the building's interior. You'll have to keep your guard up, there's little telling what might be in there. As for any survivors, it's unlikely. The hospital would be among the worst possible places for survivors to stay held up in, but anything's possible. I'll leave it for you to act accordingly. Either way, get in, recover the vaccine and get the hell out. No wasting any time, that's my only suggestion."

"Sound advice.

"Hey, just trying to keep Board Of Directors off your back. They were pissed when they found out you were diverting to recover a vaccine, and for Valentine especially."

"Yet haven't called. Why?"

"Sure as hell wasn't because of my word. Just a pilot. You can thank your benefactor for intervening, when she found out. Pulled rank, reminded the rest of them who you are answering to for Operation: NESTWRECKER. Your level of granted authority. And where they could go if they had any objections. They relented, won't interfere. Must be nice having both literal and Umbrella nobility in your corner, huh?"

"Hmm. Has its moments, NIGHTHAWK. Much appreciated. What of U.S.S. Command?"

"Coordinating the Leviathan's U.S.S. Agents pitching in at the Quarantine Zone. Granted me some more authority on this operation as well. I will remain your primary contact."

"Might get that promotion yet."

"Here's hoping. Wildey could use a few more modifications."

"Any more and you won't be able to lift that cannon."

"I forgot, a machine pistol man to the end, huh? Some things never change."

"Copy that, NIGHTHAWK. Time to move out. I'll keep you updated."

"Affirmative, good hunting, HUNK. NIGHTHAWK, over and out."

HUNK switched off the communication channel at once, lowering his hand back down to the modified MP5, considering the information he'd been supplied. It looked like things outside the hospital at least would be less complicated than he'd thought... hopefully the same would apply to inside, but he wasn't about to jump the gun on such a matter, or any really. Still, he appreciated the intel he'd been bestowed from NIGHTHAWK... and would put it to good use. And then there was the pleasing matter of Comtesse Henri. He found a faint, reluctant smile touch his face beneath the mask, at word of her quick intervention on his behalf. Appreciating her then. Despite other unpleasant aspects, there were... benefits, to his current position with Umbrella. Their arrangement. She was one of them, more often than not. They made a good team. He returned from his thoughts, and looked back to Oliveira, who was watching him speculatively... and he inclined his helmet to the young man.

"There are about a dozen infected outside the hospital entrance. Nothing that can't be handled. And there is no horde in our path. They are behind makeshift barriers."

"Hey man, you just said the magic words.", Carlos smirked a little at this relieving information, cocking his rifle again, and glancing back over to the street, a shade of his old self returning, HUNK noted... but only a shade. He still remembered his place, his senses from Valentine's infection had seemingly been shocked properly enough to not be bound by his carefree ways. It was a welcome change, and one he hoped would last awhile this time around. "I can handle them myself... uh... with your permission sir."

"Go ahead... and be quick.", HUNK agreed and ordered, himself glancing from the young mercenary and to the road, and beginning to move down the alley towards both it and him, pausing in his tracks when he stood at Oliveira's side. "If any mutations or B.O.W.'s are hiding in the vicinity, and hear us, I'd rather be inside the hospital before they can reach us. Clear the road, Corporal... and take point again."

"Sir yes sir.", Carlos replied to the order with satisfaction, relishing the opportunity to keep moving. He nodded back at his own reflection in the scratched lense of HUNK's mask, and turned at once back to the road and raising his rifle, moving again cautiously, his boots splashing through the various puddles as he stepped out of the alleyway, his flashlight helping illuminate the area, reflecting off the various soaked surfaces. "Just hang back and enjoy the show."

Carlos, removing HUNK from his mind, scanned the right hand side of the road, the direction they were not headed, first and quickly. Various traffic cones, tires, cardboard boxes and copious amounts of broken glass littered Park Street, in addition to a red barrel with explosive warning markings standing on the middle of the road, catching his attention only briefly, before continuing. He stepped out into the road, his boots stopping on a metal manhole in the road beside the barrel, and he kept right on searching. From the alley he had been able to glimpse a cast iron fence of sorts... but it was what lay beside it that caught his interest more than the fence opposite the alley. A blue door leading into a small room... perhaps a city storage place of sorts?

He had no idea... and although tempted to investigate it, and go in, they had more important matters to be getting on with. Further down the right side of the road, close to him, he noted a smashed blue car against the side of the clock tower, while behind it, an equally devastated yellow taxi had crashed into a light post. True to HUNK's word, it was at an angle that cut off the road further down, undoubtedly keeping any of the shuffling creatures beyond it from gaining access to the area, or indeed, even glimpsing them. The horde lay much further beyond down the road in that direction, closer to the clock tower's outer walls. Furthermore, the taxi wasn't the only car barring access to the road... beyond it several one's in various condition formed further accidental barriers, keeping the infected at bay. It was a blessing the road was so narrow, forming a bottleneck, otherwise it would have been another story altogether.

"Some good luck for a change..."

His eyes moved off the horde and smashed cars further away, and back to the taxi. Its front, pressed up against the light post and clock tower, and back, pressed up against the start of some more cast iron fence, ensured there would be no getting through. Just beside the taxi, what little Carlos could glimpse, there was a stone staircase that disappeared out of sight, illuminated by a light that wasn't his... and leading undoubtedly to Raccoon Park's main gate. As much as he wished they were all in a position to go through it, and bypass the hospital altogether... he knew better, shaking his head slowly... Jill's bloodied features overtaking his thoughts. The vaccine, if it was even there. He looked away from the right hand side of the road outside the clock tower alley, from where he stood in the middle of the road, and turned instead where his attention belonged... to the left hand side. Specifically, to the side of the several story hospital, hulking and visible further down the road.

It was almost next door to the clock tower... a proximity that couldn't have been more fortunate. Some of the many windows on the hospital were illuminated, others pitch black... but regardless of which, he could make out little detail of what might have been behind them... to say nothing of drawn curtains. The road, in this case thankfully, was not as cluttered as the opposite direction of it had been... there were some abandoned cars along the way, of course, but they didn't cut off HUNK and Carlos's access towards the hospital. What did cut off their access to the hospital... or at least it would if they let it, was the rotting, moaning thing in a pair of glasses and a bloodied, shredded lab coat that had noticed them, and had started lurching after them. In addition to about a dozen others down the winding road to the front entrance of Raccoon General Hospital.

Patients... hospital staff... civilians... they all began turning and lurching towards Carlos, each in varying states of physical injury and decomposition, with tattered, soaked clothing. Growling, snarling and moaning. It didn't matter what they had been in life. Like every other infected creature in the city, they had to be put down, with all do haste. Carlos didn't have to look back and see if HUNK were following him or not... he could feel the agent's cool watchful stare as he peered down the scope of his rifle and started forward. Combat boots splashing through further puddles... which, at the squeeze of his trigger, soon turned an inky red, as the former doctor's brains were blown out. The shot rang and echoed through the night as the first body hit the pavement, twitching before going still at last, the spent shell casing falling into the bloodied puddle.

Carlos didn't run, or even move fast... as HUNK had shown him already, the best way to handle a situation like this out in the open, he moved slowly and methodically down the road, picking off the monsters, one after another, taking accurate aim and scoring head shots nearly every time when he was sure he could get them. The second creature he shot, a former nurse, gurgled up blood and pitched off to the side, slamming face first into a battered red car that had crashed into the small yet sturdy fence lining the perimeter of the hospital. The force smashed its face through the glass, and it hung there, neck propped against the door, motionless and harmless to them once more... as it always should have been. Carlos continued on, stepping over the body of the first one, and past the car and second zombie, moving gradually around the bend, more of the road, the creatures, and the entrance to the hospital coming into sight.

Carlos squeezed the trigger again when a former bullet ridden security guard tried to grab him, blowing the rotting brains out of its head and turning it into the equivalent of a dummy flopping into the rain soaked streets beside an abandoned station wagon. One by one they fell along the way, leaving a single shell casing with each body, the streets running red, the moans becoming fewer with every shot he squeezed, between every powerful echo. At last, the night fell mercifully silent... or at least quieter, what with the downpour, as the gunshots and moans in the immediate vicinity vanished, leaving a trail of corpses along the road. He could still hear the undead, off in the distance... but they were of no current concern.

Instead he turned his attention to his surroundings, taking them in. His eyes skirted over the high cast iron gate to the right of the road, surrounding the park across from the hospital. The bushes and trees were too prevalent and high for him to glimpse what lay inside the park... and for the moment, out in the cool rain, smoking rifle in hand, listening to the moans... he didn't really want to know. His eye moved on, further down the road, past the hospital entrance, to find that similar to the way they had come from, the road to the left of the clock tower alley, the road was cut off... albeit not as efficiently as the accidental barricade preceding it. The road here was wider than it had been further back... but on the other hand, both a civilian car... and an abandoned olive green military grade Humvee helped cut it off, from the horde of zombies beyond it. He could see other vehicles beyond it on the street as well, and the movement of the horde... though it didn't notice him and HUNK where they stood, obscured by the vehicles. He looked back to them again, to the Humvee.

Carlos uttered a low, impressed whistle... the vehicle looked as though it had gone through a fair bit of wear in tear... heavily dented in certain places, but overall, at least the outside seemed intact. The .50 caliber machine gun remained mounted to it, and looked to have a good amount of ammunition left for it. But then, he recognized, it had probably been abandoned for good reason. He wondered who it had belonged to... there was no U.B.C.S. markings on it... although some of the vehicles the U.B.C.S. made use of didn't come with insignia... it wasn't usually necessary, what with the men in Umbrella uniforms hopping out of said vehicles. He'd driven them before, practiced in them, in both positions, driver and gunner... a flood of memories coming back of those enjoyable times in his training days. Part of him wished he had been assigned to Claus's convoy, assigned to his mission, instead of dropped into the city by chopper, dropped into the middle of the hot zone. He had little doubt Claus and his men had at least fared better than the rest of them... he'd probably already completed his simple scientist recovery mission and got out days ago.

Did the Humvee in question belong to his convoy, or not? It was possible, obviously... maybe it had gotten lost in the chaos, and its crew forced to abandon it... he wasn't sure, and doubted he'd ever know. A damn shame... how much better it would be to hop on and ride one of them home. At least if riding out of the city didn't get them all shot and burned by the quarantining forces guarding every way out of the city. He still wasn't sure how they were going to get out of it by tomorrow morning... but he knew they had to take it one step at a time. And besides which, the agent in charge clearly had an idea already settled upon. Ever a man with a plan. With reluctance Carlos turned from the Humvee and back to HUNK standing behind him... and they exchanged a simple nod, water dripping, streaming through his hair and down HUNK's battle scarred helmet. Perhaps he could convince the agent to spare the time to grab the machine gun on their way back out. Replace the one he had lost days before, at Central Street Station. They were going to need more heavy hardware... especially if the Tyrant came sniffing around again. And God knew what else might lie ahead. For now, they turned to face the bright lights illuminating the hospital, road and them as one. A large overhanging, glowing white and red sign, from a section of the roof over top of the entrance, shone down the bold letters at them.

RACCOON GENERAL HOSPITAL

The words came with familiar red medical crosses on either side of them. Carlos's eyes lowered slowly from the giant sign, to find another hanging over the twin glass doors, the two words slightly less bold than the one's above, and a single red cross below the divide between 'Raccoon' and 'Hospital', and there were a bunch of various signs hung up with instructions along the walls. He was slightly surprised to find the doors and windows of the hospital entrance were intact and not shattered, considering the chaos of the city... but then, it was probably Plexiglas anyways... reinforced, if any one place was given good funding in a city, it would be the hospital. Well, in most cities. Couldn't say that was the case back at the village where he had grown up in Brazil.

The pavement of the road was replaced by a concrete walkway up to the front entrance with a couple small fences situated on either side of it, its entire surface soaked and glistening, reflecting the light above it and from the street lights at the doors to the waiting room within. Carlos tightened his jaw, rose his rifle and flashlight, and took point again, the light reflecting off every surface, though he kept it trained on the door. The flashlight was soon joined by a familiar glowing red laser sight, as HUNK did the same. He started forward to it slowly, ready for anything that might have been waiting for them. There were lights on inside, but they were dim from where he stood on the outside... he couldn't see any movement, but that was liable to change, it was difficult to make out the details from their position. He reached the door, boots splashing through the puddles, and grasped the handle, pulling it open and sweeping through, rifle in both hands, risen, eyes narrowed and attentive as he peered down the scope.

Behind him, he heard HUNK doing the same at his side with the other door, and in a moment, they were out of the rain, which ran and dripped from each of their outfits and to the floor as they came to a stop on the spacious welcome mat that greeted them. Carlos's rifle and flashlight swept over the room, expecting creatures to be waiting for them... but to his surprise, they weren't. It made little sense, and made his eyes widen a bit... perhaps there had been an evacuation at some point in the past days... the only answer for why a horde wasn't roaming through the waiting room... or maybe there was another reason yet. It was quiet... eerily so... worsened only by the sight that waited for them. He surveyed the waiting room as closely as possible, not wishing to overlook anything.

A faint green light emanated onto them from above, the exit sign to the door they had just passed through, but his eyes shot away from it and to the rest of the area. It was a mess, nothing less... and describing it that way was putting it generously. Chairs and furniture in the waiting room were overturned every which way... along with large differently shaped clay plant pots holding small trees and leafy shrubs brought in the spruce the place up in better times than this. A couple of these remained standing, in the corner close to them... but other than that, the devastation was obvious. The only sound to be heard was that of the muffled rain outside, and the faint ticking of a clock hanging over the closed door of the receptionist office on their immediate right, just past a lone pillar connected to the ceiling. Two racks for magazines and newspapers belonging to The Raccoon Press, for those stuck waiting, were positioned on two side's of the pillar, one facing the entrance they stood in, and the other on the opposite side of it

There was a bulletin board attached to the wall opposite the potted plants in the left side corner of the room, on the same side as the receptionist office, covered in tacked up assorted papers Carlos did no more than glance across. There were other hung up papers, no smoking signs, medical charts and posters related to the hospital, none of it notable. The blinds had been pulled over the receptionist office windows, which were divided into several numbered booths for lineups... and a fitting 'closed' sign hung over one of them. Straight ahead, a blank screened television set hung down from the ceiling, over top another cluttered bulletin board on the wall directly below it. But, it was none of these particular details that drew in his attention all at once... rather, it was the matter that contradicted the eerie peace in the hospital's spacious waiting room, and gave credence to the chaos that had preceded the silence.

Bodies... many of them, blood soaked and scattered all over the place, laying against the walls or floor, among the turned over furniture, with entire puddles spread upon the marble surface of the ground in varying states. The bodies of former doctors was an obvious and unsurprising sight... to say nothing of the dead nurses in their stained, filthy dresses. Killed infected or otherwise. Heads burst apart or simply shot i the center or back of it. Shell casings littered the floor, and there were bullet tears into the walls, floor and ceiling. A fierce battle had already taken place here... but he could be damned if he knew when it had been. These civilians and infected were not the only bodies laying before Carlos's eyes. Military uniforms... olive green camouflage no less, complete with body armor. Soldiers, a number of them... at least a full squad. Carlos started forward again, ahead of HUNK, and paused before the closest soldier to him... who lay slumped forward over a turned over potted plant... motionless. His uniform was bloody, and face shredded apart beyond all recognition. Carlos knelt down slightly, his metal knee pad touching the formed blood puddle on the marble floor, as he examined the dead soldier.

He wasn't U.B.C.S... at least to his knowledge. The familiar U.B.C.S. insignia was not stitched on the back of his vest... and the uniform its self was slightly different in several ways. The pants were as camouflaged as their body armor and pouch covered vests, in comparison to Carlos and the other's lighter toned pants, black vests and olive green uniforms. The material was obviously different... and knowing the U.B.C.S. uniform and its variants as well as he did, he could say without the slightest doubt, these boys hadn't been from his or any of other other platoons. If this man and the other dead troopers weren't Umbrella, who were they, and what the hell were they doing here? Great... another mystery. The last thing he needed. Intent on clearing it up, Carlos reached for the back of the dead man's neck, set on recovering any dog tags... to find, to his surprise, none were present. And moving his eye over to the necks of the other dead soldiers in the room... from what he could see, neither did they. Moreover, most of them had been killed by gunshots... rifle shots from the look of it, not from the zombies or monsters.

Perhaps there were more of them, somewhere else in the building. Though Carlos had his doubts that in this particular case the squad had split up... in the chaos of the situation, as it had been for Carlos and the others at Central Street Station, sticking together had been of the essence. But then, little surprised him anymore. Curious... very curious. He pondered it for a moment, before shaking his head, and surveying the remnants of the room again. There were spent bullet casings and magazines everywhere, belonging to the same brand of rifle he held in his hands... it didn't take much to find the several M4's littered in various spots around the room. Carlos noted another of the dead soldiers in particular, laying against the pillar, covered in... what looked to be not merely bites, but claw wounds. Hell, his vest had been slashed apart with his stomach, entrails visible and dripping fluids, soaking them into the marble floor beneath him.

There was no shortage of horrific sights, in here, or anywhere in the city lately. The rifles were not the only weapons and supplies the dead men had left behind either, each with their own sidearms. In spite of his grimness in the middle of the scene, he found himself smiling faintly, appreciatively for a moment, when he spotted a belt of grenades strapped to the body of the first mans vest that he had been examining. At once, he reached out and unclipped the belt of over a half a dozen olive green shelled M67 fragmentation grenades... dangling it up in the light in front of himself for a moment or two, before lowering it again, to his own vest, and securing and fastening the belt into place across it, clipping it with satisfaction. He wasn't about to let such a find go to waste... and the man in question he had taken it from wouldn't be needing them any longer. For that he was grateful to the soldier, or mercenary... whoever he had been in life. He also took the time to recover a few left over magazines for the rifle... but didn't bother taking the actual rifle... his own being more than enough, and carrying another would be unnecessarily unwieldy.

Carlos's eyes moved over to the wall, to the corner, that is, the left hand side of the waiting room, to find another of the soldiers laying in the corner against some closed and locked metal shutters separating the waiting room from the rest of the hospital. A sign above the fallen trooper, stained with a bloody hand print no less, directed any who read it further into the hospital past the closed shutters... and although Carlos could not see beyond them, their presence was undoubtedly a blessing. There was a control panel on the wall near the shutters, but it was bullet ridden, broken apart and non functional... a desperate move by one of the soldier's, undoubtedly, to keep whatever was beyond the shutters away from their holdout point. Maybe he hadn't been altogether wrong, earlier... about just how infested the hospital was.

Perhaps these men had managed to secure the waiting room, and keep the rest of the infected at bay beyond the shutters... before performing some kind of desperate last stand. It would certainly account for all the carnage, and the numerous dead bodies, complete with rounds through each of their heads... and really, all over their bodies. But why had they come here of all places in the city, when there there were much safer hold out points? Why come to possibly the worst place to go in the midst of the outbreak? The smell of rot and corpses was almost enough to make Carlos gag and choke, which took his mind off his pondering momentarily... it had been more bearable earlier with the doors open and filtering in cold air... now, it was undeniable... and he rose a hand over his mouth and nose to block it out as best he could, focusing on what needed to be done. In his opinion, this last stand had occurred within the past twenty four hours... based on the freshness of the soldiers body's, at least, and the blood stains. He couldn't know for sure... but if he had to guess, that was it.

"Semper Fi, gentlemen. Damn..."

He took out his cross necklace and murmured the fallen a quick prayer before tucking it away again. His eyes focused on the body of the man laying slumped against the shutter, and he rose back up from his knee and moved over to the corpse, cocking his head to the side curiously, wanting to know if he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. A few more steps confirmed it, and when he reached the corner, his smile rose again, and he knelt before the body... and more specifically, the weapon he had possessed and probably not been able to make use of in such tight quarters. The long, familiar nozzle of a flamethrower, cradled in a gloved hand... the sprout of flame turned off at the end, but more likely than not functional. A quick glance to the man's back revealing the fuel tank he had strapped to himself, and Carlos took in every detail with satisfaction, nearly forgetting all else. Until, reaching for the powerful weapon, a low, muffled, powerful tone reminded him of its presence. And its authority.

"Don't even think about it, Oliveira. The situation is dire enough, without you burning this hospital down around us. A near suicidal weapon in enclosed buildings for a mission that isn't about destruction. For desperate situations only."

"Oh come on man... you don't just walk away from a goddamn flamethrower. There's no telling if...-

"The flamethrower stays where it is. The grenades and ammunition are sufficient presently."

"...fine, but I'm telling you, it's your loss."

Carlos spoke his reluctant assent, not that it mattered in the wake of the command. With a slow, reluctant sigh, grumbling under his breath he rose back to his feet, still staring a bit longingly after the weapon. Like the .50 caliber outside, he would have to try to convince HUNK for them to take it with them on the way back to the clock tower. Still... he wanted the damn thing now. He had to force himself eventually to take his eyes off it... every second he acknowledged its existence proved a torture in its self. His eyes moved up to the smear of blood and print the man's glove had left on the wall, sliding down it, and to the sign it had been pressing against. An information chart of sorts, listing the various levels and sections of the hospital that resided beyond the steel shutters... including some of the patient wings... and at that information he made out through the stains, he found himself all the more grateful to whoever had seen to the shutters.

At last he turned back on the spot from where he stood in front of the steel shutters, to find HUNK not even watching him... rather, surveying the room himself silently, attentively taking in every detail, his modified submachine gun no longer aimed, but entirely at the ready to be. What thoughts brewed within that mask and helmet, Carlos could not be sure... and perhaps didn't want to... still, he couldn't deny his curiosity, and as such, he broke the silence again reluctantly after a few moments, remaining where he was, looking among the bodies, blood, spent casings... and back to HUNK as he spoke.

"The shutters are locked down... and short of a blow torch, or using these explosives, I don't think there's any getting through." Carlos leveled with the agent, glancing back to the immobile shutter's briefly... though still HUNK did not turn to face the Corporal, and he continued. "But to tell you the truth, that might not be a bad thing. There's probably dozens, hundreds of them in the patient wing on this level... who knows what else... and don't get me started on the rest of the place. We're lucky the entrance was as secure as it is. That we were able to walk right up to the place. So... what do you think?"

"About?"

"Oh, gee, I dunno." Carlos replied sarcastically, and shook his head slightly, though the image of Jill returning, the sight of him handing off that intriguing sidearm of his to the young woman. Part of him wanted to ask him about her... sparing her as he had... about the gesture of giving away his pistol as well. Hell, even about War, now of all times. Regardless, he went on, knowing it wasn't exactly the time or place to ask the walking mystery to peal back the layers. He gestured to the carnage surrounding them on all sides with a mixed grim and tiredly amused expression at the agent's unrevealing, untroubled manner with it all. While standing in blood and among corpses and bullet casings. Then again, why should he be troubled? He was Death, and this was his domain. "But for starters... these corpses. They aren't U.B.C.S... they don't even have dog tags, but they're in military fatigues, camouflaged, and touting damn fine weaponry and equipment, clearly. Especially if that Humvee outside belongs to them. Who the hell are they? By all accounts, these men shouldn't be here and here they are."

"You're not as foolish and naive as you pretend to be, Oliveira. You know as well as I who they are. Who sent them."

There was another silence, a longer one, as Carlos's brain rushed to catch up with the implications of his words. Carlos hadn't been wanting to think it possible... but he could think of few other answers. If they weren't HUNK's men, and they weren't his own fellow mercenaries... it left only one remaining military force that had been involved in the Raccoon City outbreak since the start... and one more than capable of dispatching such well armed and trained troops into the thick of it. The thought... the slow cold realization, filled Carlos with disgust in a way even the rotting stench of the place couldn't accomplish. It figured... and as he considered it, the less surprised he was, though no less angered.

"The U.S. Military. Here? Inside Raccoon City?", Carlos mumbled audibly enough for the agent to pick up. He uttered a low, irritated breath, hands tightening on his rifle instinctively. Wary and troubled by the information. "I thought they were too busy quarantining the perimeter... too busy to send us actual backup. At least that was the story at the the time. A little late for the party, aren't these boys? And what the hell is up with the missing dog tags then? Covert special forces maybe? That isn't standard operating procedure of the armed forces... not in the least."

"Is there anything 'standard' about this situation, Oliveira? You said it yourself. They aren't supposed to be here. That's exactly why they are here."

"So... let me get this straight. For clarification. They refuse to join mine and the rest of the U.B.C.S. platoons in the city to help us out in the civilian evacuation, and instead stick to maintaining their quarantine... only for days after our mission failure, during which in all that time we radio'd them for assistance as one by one we were picked off... instead of sending us backup and evacuation, only when they thought us all dead, were squadrons dispatched covertly into the city. And I take it this little foray of theirs, at the behest of the government, obviously, does not officially exist any more than you and your men are supposed to?"

"Do you need me to answer that?"

"No... not really. Goddamn it... this shit right here is what really pisses me off... why did they come? Why did they bother? You must know... I mean, you're right up there in the chain of command. At least in the U.S.S. you're much more informed than us mercenaries, aren't you?", Carlos inquired of the agent, not really expecting an answer, more speaking aloud for the sake of needing to be open about his thoughts and ideas. He considered it for a long moment, what they could have wanted to take such risks coming here. It began to dawn on him the more he did... and the implications merely worsened. They had been taking the exact same risks they now were, for the same reasons. "Wait a minute... it's the vaccine, isn't it? They know about it, and they came to recover it, data on Umbrella and Doctor Bard before anyone else could. It makes perfect sense... the government would be dying to get its hands on this secret, wouldn't it? Produce it for themselves, in case the virus spreads beyond Raccoon City and threatens them. I've seen enough movies about the Illuminati and Government to know this is just the kind of shit they would do. I mean, JFK... Roswell... they've done it all. So why not this? Most of them have been shot though, someone was ready for them... ambushed them, maybe."

"Have an idea who. It doesn't matter though. It's done with. They failed. We won't. We have work to do here. The dead and their secrets will keep. The vaccine will not."

"Oh, it's going somewhere. Our hands, not any government cronies, or whoever the hell did this.", Carlos promised bitterly, not towards the agent really, but towards the bastards who had sent these men in to accomplish god knew what. The government. No better or more trustworthy than Umbrella. He sighed again, glanced one more time to the flamethrower equipped body, to the others littered around the room, and strode forward again, away from the shutters, and towards HUNK. Coming to a stop at his side, and looking back into the reflective red lenses again, in which the green light from the exit mixed together with and reflected back at Carlos. "But you're right sir... we should get back to it... I mean, we got a lot of...-

He paused, cut off mid sentence suddenly by a distant sound... slow and quiet, but building... emanating from around the corner, just past the receptionist office, and his eyes shot over to it at once. An odd shuffling of sorts... a squishing noise... and Carlos glanced back over to HUNK, before looking back ahead, making a shrugging gesture, rifle back down at his side... at least until he heard another, far more familiar sound joining the gradually increasing noise. A low, ominous moan escaping the lungs of a dead man, still out of sight... and it was close by, and shuffling closer still. It was more than enough to return their environment into sharp focus, and the danger that awaited. Something for Carlos to remedy.

"Hang back, Secret Agent Man, I've got this one.", Carlos informed HUNK with a sideways smirk, raising his rifle again and stepping over in front of the U.S.S. Agent, and over close to the receptionist office, peering down in the direction his flashlight illuminated. "Hey, it could be worse man... it could have been a horde... not just one, or-

A sudden shrill and inhuman hiss and splattering noise of wet, pulpy flesh overtook the shuffling and moans. The corpse of a former man, a civilian zombie in a pair of jeans and a collared shirt, dropped fully into sight, leaking blood and twitching every which way in the puddle it lay, light toned shirt darkening. Carlos illuminated it with his flashlight, heart freezing in his chest, to find it headless, fluids pouring from its neck as its twitching gradually died down. The corpse, however, only drew in his initial attentiveness. It was what had reduced the zombie to a headless stump that took hold instantaneously, as it dropped down into sight standing atop the corpse, and peering back down at him. He'd seen mutated monsters other than the zombies before, obviously, in the past days... but in none of them had he seen this particular... thing.

It was new, or he had simply had the good fortune of not coming across it... until now. It wasn't tall... it was no giant, like the Tyrant, nor was it entirely humanoid... he'd place it at three feet, at best. It was almost... reptilian in nature, there were some tell tale signs... but it resembled no reptile found in nature. It was small and incredibly muscular, with over sized arms and bulk on its form, huge rippling arms at that. Each of its hands possessed four webbed digits, ending with long razor sharp and thick claws soaked in the zombie's blood, which dripped and ran from them as the rain did from Carlos's hair. Despite its bulky, hunched frame, it was bipedal, with two short, stubby legs to carry its mass... and it was the mass its self that drew momentary revulsion from Carlos.

In a few regard, it reminded him of the hairy wall crawling... monsters, he had encountered earlier... though mostly in how dirty and deformed it was. It possessed an elongated, ridged head, the scaly dark flesh of which, along with its shoulders and back, was covered in grotesque red, raw growths... tumors of sorts... including a few obstructing its eyes. Even so, it sensed Carlos and HUNK with evident ease, throwing its head back, then forward and releasing another shrill, hungry hiss, more a scream... revealing two jutting, powerful rows of stained razor teeth just for its living, fresh prey. Revealing the gaping maw of its mouth, and sickly tongue within, for but a moment. The instant its scream died down, its eyes, one of them less obscured by the growths than the others, focused on Carlos and lunged suddenly into motion, faster than anything like it had the right to be. Lumbering with surprising speed for one of its bulk and deformity, over the corpse and down past the receptionist office, catching Carlos off guard.

"Fuck!"

When it was half way up the floor towards him, it leap up into the air, bloodied claws outstretched, hissing again as it pounced through the air towards him... intent on taking his head off in a single swipe. As it had the zombie. Before he could open up on it, the roar of a shotgun behind him all but exploded in his ear. He winced and cursed again loudly, eardrums ringing. The powerful blast knocked the screaming thing backwards to the floor, slamming into it bloodily, stunned. That was all Carlos needed to spring from his shock, having adjusted his sight, and the rifle to fully automatic, he squeezed down on the trigger and sprayed the thing where it lie on the floor. Catching it in the blinding light of his flashlight, and a hail of lead that erupted instantaneously all over its body. The roaring of the automatic rounds echoed through the main floor of the hospital, pounded on his ears, along with the streaming of shell casings falling around him and rolling all over the floor. Carlos, even in the midst of his shock, heart still frozen, noted the blood that sprayed out was neither green nor foul smelling as the wall crawling insectoids had been... hell, it was red... which by its self could have meant many things. For the moment he focused on the present, on doing his job. On doing what mattered. Ridding the world of a freak like this thing.

The gunfire echoed even louder within the confined space of the waiting room, as opposed to outside... but used to it as he was, the noise became a second nature, and was welcome, over the alternative of hearing its hissing. The impact of the high powered rounds blasted it back down to the floor almost at once, blood leaking all over it, some of its tumors, stricken, erupting. There was no denying its quick speed and undoubted power, the demonstration with the zombie being all too revealing... what it had nearly done to Carlos. But it was rather vulnerable as well... a fact Carlos quickly took advantage of as it screamed and writhed around on the floor, trying to get back up. Firing a burst into its head, Carlos prevented it from doing as much, the bone in its skull exploding outward, striking the thing's brain and nervous system, and killing it mid hissing.

"And stay down!"

Nevertheless, it took its body a few moments to realize it was dead, bulky arms still wildly clawing up at Carlos... or at least trying to. He stood and remained out of its reach... but as he finished it off, there came another hiss... a second one, from further in the back room that the first and the zombie had come from. Immediately he switched the focus of his scope, and fired another burst as the next reptilian creature bound towards him, intent on accomplishing what the first had failed at. Carlos did not give it a chance to get into the air this time, nor dive away or readjust his position... he stood fast, holding his ground, certain he had just enough ammunition in the magazine the finish the other reptile. He gave it no ground, and was not about to let it get close enough to do to him what, in hindsight he realized, one of them must have done to the gutted soldier against the pillar.

The first burst caught it in the front, along its stomach, penetrating the scales there... it merely slowed the hissing thing, which, no less intent, reached the twitching corpse of the other creature... and just before it could leap through the air, and pounce... and undoubtedly reach Carlos's position, he fired another burst into its mouth, blowing off its lower jaw, which streamed like a fountain from its maw. The creature lost coordination at this, slipping and falling in the blood pouring below its feet and collapsing to the floor, mere feet from Carlos, and throwing out its arm, attempting to grasp for his ankle. It crawled closer, inch by inch, the claw not swiping for him digging into the floor with such strength that it stuck into the marble... and within seconds, Carlos knew it would be upon him. Forcing himself to keep cool, knowing the alternative if he didn't, he fired the rest of the rounds in the magazine into the thing's head and back. Driving it deeper into the floor, and stopping its movements... or rather, slowing them at least, long enough for him to eject the spent magazine, pop in another and cock it into place, taking aim again, flashlight illuminating the mess left behind.

He was just about to fire again... but as his finger reached the trigger, his adrenaline coursing through his veins... something told him to stop, to ignore the desire to empty the next magazine into it and the other creature. Against his wishes, he listened to it... lowering the rifle, as the twitching, bleeding thing, arm still reaching out to grasp his boot, now inches from it, stopped moving slowly altogether, leaking all over the floor where it lay. He stood over it for a moment... several of them, each lasting an eternity... until he remembered he was holding his breath, and released it, drawing in another breath, simply savoring the ability to be able to do so. He was silent for a time, welcoming back the ominous quiet, in comparison to the screeching or moaning alternatives. From the corner of his perceptions, he realized HUNK was still there... and had slung his modified W-870 Shotgun again to take up his even more modified MP5 again. Red laser sight shining down against the floor. He neither moved a muscle or aimed his weapon again as Carlos finished handling the things. The Corporal didn't take his eyes off the occasionally twitching abominations, keeping his rifle at the ready... but eventually, his low tone murmured again, both to HUNK, and to himself to make sense of what had just happened.

"Thanks, man. Reacting quicker than me with that shotgun. That was the... well, the first time I ran into things like this.", Carlos admitted quietly, jaw tightening a little as he surveyed the scaly, muscular creatures. It had been a close call... closer than expected. He absently wiped his mouth with his arm, and shook his head slowly and tiredly. "I've seen others... more than enough, but not this. I didn't think it would move that fast. I shouldn't be surprised by now, but somehow I still am. I feel like I've seen it all, you know?"

"You haven't."

"No... I guess not, huh? If half the stories about you are true. Damn grateful for that, if more of this is what I'd have to look forward to. What do you think it is? Another mutation, like those other wall crawling things with the tongues? Like the Spiders? Lizards infected with the T-Virus?"

"They are neither. They are B.O.W's. Hunters. Beta Series. Doesn't matter which series they are, really... they're coded to move in pairs."

"A B.O.W.? No shit?", Carlos inquired, at last glancing sideways to the motionless agent, before looking back down again, his silence providing all the answer he needed. "I should have figured... it was too... hate to say intelligent, but aware... more aware, and clever than most of the others. Umbrella makes them well, clearly... even things like this. It killed that zombie when it didn't have to... and while some of the mutated things don't harm one another, I can't say they work together. It's clearly reptilian... but why the red blood? It doesn't smell putrid, like that paste the other's have for inner fluids. What's its DNA been mixed with?"

"What do you think?"

"...truth be told? I'd rather not think about that. What went into it. How it was made.", Carlos swallowed slightly, the image of suspended bubbling tanks containing more creatures like this... perhaps many different variety's of them, based off HUNK saying there was at least one other series preceding it. He shuddered at the thought of finding more variations, or rather them finding him. One's probably worse than even these had been, of that he had no doubt. "Why were they sent? What is there to be gained in dropping off more monsters into a city full of them?"

"They either escaped from one of Umbrella's many labs, or were sent to gather combat data, presumably. I'm not with the bioweapons division. I don't make the decisions. If I did, things would be different.", HUNK's low, muffled tone answered slowly, unemotionally and detached as ever talking about the very company he served. Carlos listened to the man intently, brow raising a bit inquisitively... taking in every word, and not taking his eyes off the bleeding Hunters. "There will be more, and like these two they will be dealt with. Now, get moving Corporal. Follow where these things came from. We'll take the stairs up to the fourth floor. We'll procure the Vaccine Base first, deal with the Medium in the basement laboratory afterward."

"Works for me.", Carlos agreed, and although he wanted to discuss it further, he knew better than to try. Glancing over when he noticed the familiar red laser sight's dot move over and hover over top of a small sign in the corner of the waiting room, near the edge of the wall, beside the pathway past the receptionist office. The sign in question indicated a stairwell just beyond the corner, leading up to the second floor... one of the four death traps they would have to pass through to reach. He wasn't looking forward to it, but wasn't the least bit daunted by the task at hand. With how far they had gotten. His eyes moved back to the dead Hunters, and then ahead, to the path beyond them, nodding his head and leveling his rifle again. "Stairs, huh? Let's get back there and see what's waiting for us."

HUNK said nothing, but Carlos more than took it as silent assent, and began to move forward, stepping past and over the corpses of the Hunters, unable to avoid the thick puddles leaking all over the floor, his boots tracking red footprints down the marble floor past the receptionist office, moving to the stairwell around the corner. Before reaching it with the agent close behind, he noted the zombie that had been killed was not the only corpse in the back room as he stepped over it. In the left corner of the back room, a blood soaked doctor with a rotten face and vacant open eyes lay against an equally blood soaked vending machine, his brains splattered all over it, his uniform, and the floor it sat on.

One other dead zombie, a former woman, also sat on the floor just a little ways across from the doctor, her back up against the front of a bench, also shot through the head and staring emptily at Carlos. His lips tightened a bit at the morbid sight, and he took in some of the other details of the back room behind the waiting room. Above the bench, he glimpsed another messy bulletin board of assorted meaningless papers men and women had once paid attention to. There was a big bloody blotch splattered against the center of the bulletin board, and running down along it... almost entirely dried by now, and most likely having belonged to the woman. It was darker in the back room, save the glow of the vending machine and his flashlight... nullifying the problem.

He looked back to the vending machine, to find it damaged... undoubtedly by the bullet that hat struck the former doctor, the surface of it badly cracked and bloody, but still defiantly remaining illuminated. He briefly scanned the selectable options on the machine, to find, to his surprise, tomato juice was an option. Even in the midst of carnage and gore as he was, rotting flesh, he was tempted to gag over the thought. Who the hell sold disgusting tomato juice in vending machines? Aside from hospitals, anyways. Better yet, who the hell would drink the stuff? He was oddly tempted to chuckle at the thought, at answering his own question, but necessity called.

Over in the corner beside the vending machine, situated between it and the final two of the six receptionist windows, a payphone resided... its purpose useless, not merely because the phone lines were down, but because there was nobody left in the city to call anyways. Carlos turned at last to his right, to the stairwell, to find... to both his annoyance and concern, another sturdy metal shutter closing off the stairwell up to the second floor, with another control panel broken beyond use. He moved over to it at once, lowering his rifle, and extended a fingerless gloved hand, grasping and pushing against it, unable to budge the damn thing. They were built too well, and Carlos couldn't even begin to figure out how to bypass it, if there were any keys... and really, if they even should. He spoke again in a low frustrated voice as he tried to budge it.

"I don't think there's any getting through this way, sir. If you have any ideas or suggestions, now would be the best time. I'm stumped, and you're always the man with the plan."

"I can see that.", Came his low, muffled and observant voice in turn slowly, calm as ever, and in turn Carlos gave up on trying to shift the shutter, kicking it with his boot. He turned back partially in HUNK's direction, meeting his intact and cracked red lenses respectively. "The stairs are both the slower and more dangerous route anyways. Infected and mutations likely dwell there. There should be a private elevator on this level for employees. I would theorize it to be beyond the receptionist office. The preferable path."

"Hey, I didn't even consider that.", Carlos admitted, relieved by the other man's offered suggestion. Always thinking coolly even in a situation like this one. "Let's go take a look. If not, we can try to blow a path through this shutter, or a wall with these grenades. Or maybe find a fire exit on the opposite side of the building from outside."

"Either option is acceptable. Take point."

"Got it... in a second, actually.", Carlos amended as he spotted something out of the corner of his eye, over in the corner next to the shutters cutting off the stairs. What they were doing here of all places, in another time, he might have been curious about... how random their presence was, in a hospital of all places as opposed to a garden. By now, in this bizarre city... it was little more than enough to raise a slight smirk to his lips, and make him shake his head. Two plant pots side by side... each containing red herbs. He glanced to HUNK, then back to the plant pots, and moved over to them, kneeling back down on his knee pad and reaching over to the closest one, grasping it firmly by the root among the dirt, and pulling it free... looking it over closely as he spoke "May as well rip these out and bring them... I'm sure as hell not lugging around more plant pots, and I can't let them go to waste. Waste not, want not."

"For the best. Even my doctor would insist on their recovery. Never fails to remind me of their medicinal value."

"Got an old, nagging doctor, huh? My sympathies. I'm no herbalist, or botanist myself... but I sure as hell am starting to feel like one. It was a headache mixing these things back on the train... and don't get me started about trying it out in the field."

"I won't."

"Glad to hear it. You've just been talking my ear off since we set out, Mr Reaper. Not sure how Supercop put up with you so long. Patience of a saint."

Carlos cracked with a slight smirk, predictably receiving no reply for his efforts, tore loose the second red herb, and reaching around to his backpack, popped open one of the side pockets on it, stuffing the herbs away inside. He had a few already in there, and back at the church, but it wouldn't hurt to bring them to Jill, when it came time to check her wounds again. The plant pots emptied, save the soil within them, he rose back to his feet and turned around, facing HUNK again briefly and simply inclining his head, raising the rifle again and strolling past him and the corpses in the back room, stepping over the one laying across the floor the Hunter had decapitated. Glancing sideways slightly to where its head lay a few feet from its body, he moved over to it and kicked it, watching it roll across the floor like a bowling ball with grim amusement, leaving a fresh trail of infected blood. The agent looked at him reproachfully, but Carlos merely shrugged, before glancing back down to the waiting room as he strode past the receptionist windows, tracking another trail of bloody boot prints, joined this time by another trail from HUNK's.

Making it back to the bodies of the Hunters, Carlos moved over them quickly, but carefully not to slip in all the fluids. Continuing along the way until reaching the door into the receptionist office just beside the lone pillar, the gutted soldier in front of it, and the rest of the scene of carnage, the last stand in the waiting room, which he pushed to the corner of his mind. He wasn't so squeamish... not as much as he used to be, the deeper he seemed to journey into this nightmare, but somehow, while it got easier, it never not effected him. He wished he had more of a mental state like the agent following him, so indifferent and unfeeling from it all... or at least most anything. Numbed.

But he wasn't like that and never had been... never would be. He didn't know for sure, but part of him believed that was for the best. Instead, he had to force himself to ignore all the gore, pretend it didn't effect him... at least when he was focused upon an objective, a clear one at that. It was all he had... the alternative was allowing his exhaustion to win out, and he couldn't let that happen, with a life... or potentially billions of lives... hanging in the balance over their actions now. He silently held his breath, not wishing to smell the rot hanging over the room threatening to make him gag again the further he moved into it. Reaching the door, he waited only a couple seconds, when he was sure HUNK was right behind him, before grasping the handle and pushing it open, not lingering in the doorway. Instead raising his rifle again and rushing inside, flashlight sweeping over the reception office, making it in a few feet from the doorway HUNK instead occupied. A quick scan of the room was made before he deduced it was all clear of any creatures... and only then, did he pause to take in the details. A quick scan of the room was made before he deduced it was all clear of any creatures... and only then, did he pause to take in the details.

"Thought there would be more zombies and monsters, crawling all over this hospital."

"Survivors will have passed through here by now, many of them. Likely cleaned a fair amount of the place out of infected. And then there is the military. Though this is merely one section of the ground floor. No telling what is above or below. Or beyond barricades."

"Thanks for reminding me."

Carlos returned with a grim, tired smile, looking back into the room. Although somewhat orderly, it was not entirely so, particularly the long cluttered table in the center of the room, covered in papers, pens, pencils, stacks of books and binders, left over coffee cups... just about everything. As though it all had just been dropped mid work, each of the comfortable sliding chairs drawn back, small filing cabinets visible beneath the table for reports. Hell, there was even another typewriter on the table, along with several ink ribbons close beside it, with a half written report still inside the machine. It wasn't the only work space in the room either... a couple desks along the wall to Carlo's immediate right represented the work stations in the receptionist office, located directly behind the blind covered windows, where secretary's and other employee's had seen to any of the patients back out in the waiting room, filled out prescriptions, and whatever else the job entailed. Wooden chairs were pulled up along the way... and overall, it was much neater than the work table. There were some tidy stacks of reports, but weren't loose papers strewn along the surface... merely a cash register in the corner between the desks, a few lamps, drawers, and other odds and ends.

The room, quite abandoned, was illuminated only partially, aside from his flashlight, by a lone dim light hanging from the ceiling over the table, another present but not working. At the far side of the room was a large filing system along the wall, taking up most of it, consisting of many small wooden drawers divided into different sections... undoubtedly for various types of medicines for general prescription filling, to say nothing of the larger, metal drawers underneath these particular ones. This was only further evidenced by the large shelf along the wall to Carlos's right, full of medical cards and records in binders pertaining to the many citizens who had come here before the outbreak. Large cardboard boxes occupied the highest shelf close to the ceiling, and that section of the room had medical charts along the walls.

Little else about the room was notable... there was another storage container, like the one in the chapel and all around the city really in the north east corner of the room. Someone had been making a killing selling those things along with the typewriters. A small red light was emanating above it like the small green neon exit sign over HUNK's head in the doorway. He should have figured... oddly enough, there was a pattern with the storage containers. Wherever a type writer was present, one was sure to be close by. He wished he could make sense of the perplexing occurrences, but knew better than to try, chalking it up as one more of the town's oddities. Maybe some crook on the City Council had invested in them, and the city had been forced to purchase them for all their public buildings. Although there would be no utilizing the storage container, as he had the last one he'd found, he noted that close beside it, on a far space on the shelf holding the medical records and cards, a familiar white bottle with green markings stood out. And by now, he knew what it was before he crossed the room, grasped the bottle and read the ever welcome words. About the only Umbrella product he was fond of, of late.

First Aid Spray

He smiled a little with satisfaction, before tucking it away into his backpack, and turning back in HUNK's direction. There was a metal sink with a mirror over it to HUNK's immediate right, in the southeast corner of the receptionist office, along with a couple lockers, opened, with some of their contents spilled out on the floor consisting mainly of report papers. They weren't noteworthy, of course... but what was noteworthy was the small puddle of blood he had missed upon entering the room quickly, on the floor beside these papers, directly in front of the doorway. His eyes lowered carefully to it with curiosity, to find large droplets running along the floor that ran between the main receptionist desks at the front, and the long table in the middle of the room. They stood out vibrantly against the assorted light tan shades of the tiles. Hands tightening on his rifle a bit, he strode back over to the doorway, to the puddle, and then past HUNK, starting to follow the trail, with the U.S.S. Agent following him in turn.

It led all the way to west portion of the room, beyond the table and windows, to wooden door with another clock over it ticking away, leading to an adjacent room. The droplets stopped in front of the door, Carlos's eyes rising back up to it. He listened closely for a few moments, to see if he could register any movement or noises in the room beyond... it certainly seemed likelier, given the blood. Hell, he was still a bit surprised there had been no creatures waiting for them here in the receptionist office... it was clear he and HUNK had missed out on a hell of a lot that had taken place in the hospital in the past days, showing up only at the tail end of the chaos.

Raising his rifle, he grasped the handle of the door, listening to the ticking of the clock... and after a few such ticks, he pushed through the door, barging into the next room. It was better lit than the one preceding it, and bringing his weapon to bear, scanning over everything intently, ready for the worst. And yet... still, like before, all that awaited them was an eerily quiet and still room. A doctor's lounge, complete with a couple long sofas, a coffee table between them, some plants, including a small tree next to Carlos to bring a bit of green to the room. Though standing out above everything else, first and foremost, a mutilated doctor's bloody corpse, covered in bites and slashes, laying face down against the furthest couch in a pool of blood, where the trail ran to and ended. Slowly, very slowly, Carlos lowered his rifle and started forward into the lounge, towards the body, his boots pattering over the tiled floor, and reaching the corpse, he examined it closely... the former man mutilated beyond all recognition.

There was something to it that deeply troubled him... perhaps more so than some of the other sights he had glimpsed thus far. The man's neck looked as though it had been devoured from the inside out... how, he could not even begin to imagine... and didn't want to think about it. He drew in a low breath, and surveyed the rest of the room where he stood over the man's corpse. Just beyond the couches, in the north west corner of the room were a trio of metal lockers, each open and looking as though someone had already searched through them thoroughly. The metal doors were covered in various newspaper clippings, pictures, including an attractive young woman in a swimsuit... but here and now, standing in a puddle of blood, exhausted and Jill's life in the balance, he didn't even give her a second look. Surprising even him.

His eyes drifted on along this north side of the room, to a small bulletin board covered in papers, and past that, the more cluttered section of the room, a white board covered in marker... close to the work space, with several desks pulled up against each other along with chairs, forming one long table. There were a few small trash bins next to the desks, and some of the chairs had been left with coats and other personal belongings on them, as though the owners would be returning for them. The surface of the desks were covered in computers, keyboards, files, papers, metal filing cabinets, headphones and other assorted work related products Carlos couldn't be bothered to examine. Beyond the work area were a trio of windows against the western wall of the lounge, each with curtains pulled over them, along with a calendar positioned between a pair of them.

Looking to the far end of the desks, further down, he noted a metal trolley with a coffee machine, cups, donuts, and all the products that came with each... obvious really, considering the room in question. At the far end of the room, looking back to the wall that had been to his right going through the door, there were a couple of wooden cabinets, each varying... the closest to the door being smaller and wood alone, with an open book spread out on its surface. While the second one further down was much taller, and had glass on it, turning it into a display case of sorts for thick stacks of books, weather recreational or work related, he couldn't tell, but likely both.

And finally, at the far corner of the room along this wall, the familiar thick metal doors of the elevator, and the control panel beside it. At last, Carlos looked back down to the corpse... and was going to head down to the elevator right away, but paused where he stood when his eye caught something it hadn't previously... laying down at the side of the doctor's corpse, partially obscured by his tattered doctor's coat. Carlos knelt down beside the body, though not in the midst of the blood puddle, and retrieved a small book the man had been keeping close... and looking it over, a curious expression passed over him, and he slung his rifle momentarily, freeing up his arms so he could thumb through the book. Hands free, he began to read aloud, more to himself than to HUNK. Wanting to include the agent if he had any of his own thoughts on the contents as he did whatever he was doing... the dark clad agent moving somewhere over his shoulder, the slow quiet tapping of his boots growing audible.

Director's Diary

September 10th

These patients suffer from gangrene and congestion of their blood at first. Then their mind slowly deteriorates. In the end, as it worsens, there is nothing left of their mind. When that happens even mercy killing seems pointless. After all, they are already dead.

This disease is unlike anything I have ever witnessed in all my years in the medical profession. I don't even know where to begin with this. Once the patient's mind is gone, they become flesh hungry monsters and act like wild animals who are in some kind of bloodlust. Biting and infecting more people with whatever the hell it is in their veins. Security has been strengthened, but it is still insufficient if this gets worse, as it almost certainly will. Doctor Bard and his team have been unhelpful on the matter, never around when needed, and doing God knows what down in that lab of theirs. But I need to focus on helping the patients, not fiddling while Rome burns, as the Umbrella employees seem to be doing.

September 18th

Yet another patient has been admitted to the hospital. He is showing symptoms of the first stages of the disease at this point, but... I haven't been able to sleep at all these past few days. I refuse to let these patients become "zombies." I am not just an ordinary citizen. I am a doctor. Even if I die, my clinical charts will contribute to finding a cure. Bard and his team remain unhelpful, even as it all worsens they remain as they have been since the start. I regret ever taking Umbrella's money, looking the other way... now I pay for my sins. But I won't give up... I won't flee this hospital, as some others have already done. No matter the ailment, this is my place. The disease symptoms are always the same, though the rate of their progression in patients varies. Ranging from hours, to days, to a week. It always ends the same way though... humans becoming monsters. Having to be restrained for everyone's safety. But the bodies are piling up, room is running out. I've been trying to contact the police for further help, but that fat bastard Chief Irons won't pick up his phone. And the lines are increasingly swamped. Same with the Mayor's office. We corrupt public officials have nobody to blame but ourselves, it seems. Working in our own self interests as long as we did. It looks like I'm on my own, with the remaining staff.

September 26th

We lost most of the doctors and staff during the battle against the "zombie" patients. Security has either died themselves or have fled to save themselves and their own families. A ragtag group of survivors have arrived to help out, without them we wouldn't have made it... at least for a few more hours or days. Doctor Hersh has had more contact with them than me, though... and the word is that a monster unlike the infected stalks the sewers below, the halls and the ventilation shafts... but I haven't seen it yet myself. God willing, I never will. The city has fallen. It's impossible to maintain the hospital under these conditions. And, I know that it's too late for me. I am beginning to feel that same itchy and hungry desire that all of my patients felt. It's too late for me. Bard and what is left of his team will take over from here. I pray to God they were working on a remedy. Umbrella knows about this... the military team they sent to the city was wiped out... while the U.S. Army has quarantined the city. There is no cure and no escape... and even if there were, they would be of no use to me at this stage. This is the end.

HUNK listened to every word as the young mercenary spoke... and considered each, though only at the corner of his thoughts and perceptions. As Oliveira began to read, the agent moved away from the door frame, and moved methodically across the room, letting go of his modified MP5, which hung down from its strap against his armored chest. Drawing a low, muffled breath, the agent kept his eyes trained upon the bulletin board near the back of the room, paying more attention to it than he had to the lone corpse of the Director in the room. He allowed his boots to make sounds as he passed over the floor, and upon reaching the bulletin board, he began to examine it closely... in particular the piece that drew his attention to begin with.

Removing the tack pinning it up, he rose the paper in both hands, examining it closely. It was a map of the hospital, every floor, including the basement levels and fifth story, the fifth being the rooftops. His eyes swiveled behind the mask over every detail, pondering them while dividing a small percentage of his focus to Oliveira, though finding what he had to say scarcely interesting. The corrupt Director Ethan had not known a vaccine was being created under his nose by the company... confirming Doctor Bard's account to the Board Of Directors. Besides that, only the mentioned battle was of any intrigue... had the U.S. special forces squad downstairs been involved in it? It seemed likelier they had arrived in the aftermath... but then, he was beyond ruling anything out at this stage.

On September 25th the military had barricaded the outside of the city... leaving ample time to slip in squads of their own, though given Oliveira's confusion at seeing them, they had not encountered the U.B.C.S. if they had been sent in. More likely they had arrived to the city recently. He'd eluded Oliveira's questioning about them... but to him, the reason for their presence was obvious. They had not been sent to save civilians, or help anyone... they'd been dispatched by the government to recover evidence of Umbrella's activities. Fortunately for the company, this particular squad wouldn't be reporting in to their superiors anytime soon... but there were sure to be others. And with the bastard Colonel Vladimir dropping more B.O.W.'s than ever into the battlefield, dropping evidence in his haste for collecting last minute combat performance data... he had little doubt they would recover some.

It was almost funny the company had given official reins in the cover up to a man only making matters worse. Morning was still a ways off... and there would be plenty of time for the government to acquire what it needed to before Operation: Bacillus Terminate commenced. The sheer stupidity of assigning the Colonel was one that rose a trace of bitterness in him... the desperation of the board. They should have sent for War, pleaded her return, but as ever the Colonel got his way. It was a bitterness he felt both near and far, from the past. He was glad War had written the fine print that she had in the Internal Emergency Procedures, dividing the U.S.S. and U.B.C.S... glad to be outside the madman's chain of command, and pitied anyone in it. Pitied Oliveira... and the grisly fate that would await him if he escaped the city alive. Returned to Umbrella. But that was yet another problem for the future. And one that wasn't his own.

He had been ordered by U.S.S. Command to avoid U.S. military forces... but if it proved necessary he would use Lord Spencer's authority to countermand those orders. Shoot to kill perimeters would be the only way, if they ended up standing between him and his objective. They knew of the G-Virus already, and if they knew he had it they would pursue him. He had never killed American soldiers before... but there was a first time for everything. Even for him. Higher ups always pitted combat operatives against one another, to serve their own ends... because nobody else could pick up a rifle and get something done than those like himself. It would be nothing personal, if he had to face a government's troops again... it never was, but he would have to go through with it. Survival and completion of the mission was all that mattered. He knew that. But knowing that rankled at him a bit, standing in this hospital. The Board had been right, he had diverted from his mission already... and the Comtesse would have been well placed calling him up to remind him of that, instead of standing up for him as she had. Watching his back and remaining his benefactor.

The greater trouble would be maintaining the currently required trust of Oliveira and Valentine, which would likely evaporate the moment he started shooting down U.S. soldiers without provocation or seeming reason. All he could do was hope they didn't run into any living squads, elsewhere in the hospital or on their way to the Incineration Plant. The last thing he needed, while the two of them would be more than happy to see the Army. Depending on some circumstances. Regardless, the G-Virus extraction would come first, even if it meant drastic steps would be required. For now, he remained where he operated best. On the tightrope. Challenged. Surrounded by threats on all sides, without and within. It had been far too long since he'd had one... the odds so against him... it wasn't so much that he lived for a challenge, but there was no denying it forced him to adapt and work at his peak. Thrown into the deep end, as War had done to him. If it had been right to do to him, it was right for Oliveira as well.

He had little care for short, simplistic missions with no threat or importance... he'd slept walked through many such missions before with ease, became an unthinking robot for the company... as they so often wanted of their enforcers. It was probably why they liked having him around so much... well, some of them anyways, and one of the reasons. It was the missions like this one... perhaps not the same entirely, of course... this was the first mass outbreak he's been involved in... but when there was a true threat... a part of him seemed to wake up, stir and make its self known. Even now he wasn't entirely sure what it was. Did he love war? Chaos? The climate here surrounding him? Did it exhilarate him on some level? A freedom? Or did he enjoy imposing order upon a climate like this one? Restoring it. He had rarely known his own feelings, when reality continued to contradict and betray them. It had been others who had forced him into this position he was in anyways, taken the choices out of his hands.

An incompetent former U.S.S. Agent, a mad scientist, his extraction scrambled... and nothing was going to be the same after all this, regardless of how it ended. He predicted his services, and those of his men and women would be required far more frequently from Umbrella, when it all came baring down on them. The consequences. He couldn't predict exactly the outcome... but he could guess. There would be a lot of dirty laundry to be cleaned up, in no small part from the incompetence of certain elements of the company's decision makers. To say nothing of the U.S. Government. Who was sending in the military to recover evidence, data and the vaccine? Colonel Campbell, in charge of the quarantine, might have been the first obvious suspect to some... but HUNK knew better. The man was a soldier, one who already had his hands full on a job, and like him was taking orders and being manipulated by the 'higher ups'. No... if he had to guess, it was Simmons, his Family, and the government's bioweapons program at play. Seeking data and samples. No regular grunts went into battle without their dog tags. Black Ops were at work, little different from Umbrella's Monitors. There were so many possibilities to ponder, and when the time came, he would discuss it with NIGHTHAWK. It was not a topic he wished to get into with Oliveira... being one that pertained to his own presence in the city.

He'd had no misgivings about discussing the Hunter Beta models down in the lobby, their presence... for they were not apart of his particular branch. He did not serve the interests of the bioweapons division, besides of course his G-Virus acquisition... and had not been sworn to any secrecy on their products. He had little doubt that either they had been dropped with other specimens by Vladimir... or had escaped one of the hospital's labs. Regardless, Oliveira had played his part in helping them gain combat data. He wondered if in the end the pathetic collection of combat data would be worth the trade off of the company's feet being held to the fire. The more he thought about it, the more he wished for the old days... before the doubts, when everything was simple... before War's abandonment had opened his eyes to the reality surrounding him... his place as a tool of others. Before the bitterness. Still... it had been a gift, knowledge, and one he never took for granted. It was always important to know where he stood. His place in the scheme of things. His eyes hardened on the map as Oliveira finished reading and began to rummage around a bit where he knelt, undoubtedly tucking away the diary into his backpack. The young man was silent for a few moments, before, from the corner of HUNK's eye, he rose up, still peering down at the Director's ravaged corpse, and spoke again slowly.

"I can't imagine what it must have been like... the hell this place went to..."

"Yes you can. You experienced it, like them. Fought on the front lines. You merely survived."

"Maybe... but I'm not like them, made to heal people, help them. It might be my job sometimes... but I'm a mercenary, little more. That's why I survived. Because I'm one more man with a gun, better at taking lives than I am healing them. I've taken more from the world than I've given it. Even when I try to be more. What we're doing here... it's the first worthy cause I've taken up in years... and it may well prove to be the only one by the time my life ends, whether it works out or not. I mean, it's probably different for you... you're like a hero out of an action movie, or a spy movie... a company legend. I'm sidekick material at best... and that's being generous."

"No. I'm not. If you want to succeed yourself in this, then keep focused on it step by step. If you lose it to despair and think about all... this, too deeply, you'll lose sight of the goal and be useless to everyone. Including yourself. But above all, to the mission. To her."

"That makes sense. It's a cold and an uncomforting thought, but things that make sense are rarely comforting.", Carlos replied quietly, expression disquieted for a few moments as he considered the words and the dead man below him. At last, he tentatively looked in the direction of the masked enigma working with him... and a question that had been bothering him for a time now could not help but surface. And really, he didn't want to bury it again. Though he approached it in a careful, hesitant manner. "HUNK... there's something I really want to ask you. It's a bit personal... but... yeah. It's something I've been wondering for awhile now. If I can."

"What?"

"Have you ever... loved someone?"

At this the agent froze where he was reading the map. Slowly lowering it and turning back around. Staring at him silently for a long moment, before speaking with low incredulity.

"Of all possible questions, that is the one you want to ask of me? Now of all times?"

"No no... it's not just that it's related to, I mean... well, let me put it another way...", Carlos amended hurriedly at the low incredulous tone, shifting a bit on the spot and adjusting his slung rifle, still glancing hesitantly to the agent where he stood before the board, idly examining the paper in his gloved hands. "I... was wondering if even soldiers fall in love. Living legends like yourself. I'm not a soldier... not really, I'm a hired gun, nothing more... I haven't been fighting for any cause I believe in. But I want to know if that's true."

From where he stood, still holding the map, HUNK's helmeted and masked head at last turned very slowly in the young man's direction and stared back at him in silence for a time... not even really pondering his question... not needing to, rather sizing him up, seeing if his courage would falter, and he would back down from the questioning. It wasn't often question's were asked of HUNK... about who he was, and his past... not that he really answered them anyways the rare occasions he did get them. Still... there was something about this one in particular that somehow seemed different. Oliveira was not a true subordinate of his, as the other agents of Alpha Team had been. He was too much of a civilian... in personality at least, like Valentine. Regardless of being in command of him... it was clear Oliveira did not look at HUNK in the same way as the rest of the U.B.C.S... or hell, even the U.S.S. and Board, seemed to perceive him. As his title... Death. To be feared and speculated about... and to be directed as a prized pawn in a corporate game. Oliveira asked rare human questions of him... nor did he tip toe around HUNK, disquieted by his reputation. And after what he had done for them at the chapel... saving their lives, he deserved an answer. The truth. Or at least a truth.

"I'm not a soldier, Oliveira. Never was. Never will be. I'm an Umbrella security guard. An assassin. Or a 'secret agent man', as you would aptly put it."

"Security guard my ass. James Bond stuff or not, you're more soldier than any I've ever met. It still applies to you. I want to ask you... do you think there's something better for people who do what we do. Well... what I do, and what you do. That we can have something good and worth having... like love? Off the record?"

HUNK didn't even have to consider the young man's hesitant, naive question. He knew the answer. Still, he continued to watch Oliveira... who rose his eyes and peered back expectantly at the agent, making it abundantly clear he had no intention of backing down from his curiosity. The agent couldn't deny a shade of respect... a small shade, but one nonetheless. Perhaps Oliveira didn't expect to gain an answer... but he had asked it nonetheless. He decided to reward the courage with an acknowledgement... though at the same time his muffled tone began to respond emotionlessly, he slowly began to look away from Oliveira and back to the map... each word naturally forming and speaking for him. Bella's lessons returning... perhaps. That small part of him from the past... buried away more often than not, bringing the words into existence. And reminding him he still had it, in a diminished, weakened form, but existence nonetheless. The entire operation in Raccoon City had gradually brought it out of him... his weakness and his doubt, from his experiences here. And he found himself unable to hide the truth, or utter a false response. He carried enough secrets already.

"Depends on the person. Love... or the appearance of it, the form and feeling of it... can be a weapon. One that has been used upon me. Or a distraction... a weakness to be exploited. As for genuine love... I think if you... actually love someone... you should honor them. Protect them. Not abandon them, when they need you most."

The silence between them returned, save the distant, faint pattering of the downpour beyond the windows, as HUNK continued examining the layout of the floors. Drawing up his cool distance from the exchange that had just passed between them, not wishing to consider or ponder over it... nor the discomfort he'd felt in voicing it... despite how natural it had been to say. Speaking a truth. There were more important things to do than think about such things, and part of him already regretted answering the young man. Indulging curiosity. No, it wasn't often he was asked such things... but he could not see the relevance of the inquiry, and had just wasted time responding to it. No matter. It was no challenge to block it all out, and refocus where his attention belonged. Force back the past and return to the present.

"But as you said, that's all strictly off the record. Of course. You and I never spoke about this. Understood?"

"Sir, yes sir."

Carlos answered at once... though when the agent turned back away to study the map again, he watched him for a brief time, eyes widened a bit. He found himself startled by the unexpected response from the agent... not having predicted in the least such romantic words would follow the expected cynical ones... or for them to come from one as cold and robotic as the man in question. But then, had he suspected the agent would spare the infected Jill? The reply only filled him with more questions about the mysterious man... but he knew the time of questioning him personally was over... and that he'd probably only been allowed a single opportunity to do so. He did not regret the question he had chosen... the implications of it quite telling, regardless of his curiosity. Knowing that there was more to him, to the legend, then met the eye. Another matter came to Carlos, troubling him... had been nagging him since she spoke it in the chapel... begged it of them. It gradually drew its way to the surface again... and he couldn't stay silent on it. Needed him to know he was thinking about it... needed to know what they were going to do. With difficulty, he approached the matter.

"Sir... the vaccine. What she said... what she wanted us to do with it..."

"What about it?"

"I want nothing more than to help her... save her... but what if she's right? What if the world needs it more? It could be the only chance to keep something like this from happening again. We could save... millions. Billions. For her. I'm just... just saying, man..."

The Umbrella Agent looked again from the map and stared silently back at Carlos for a long moment, considering his words. Merely breathing calmly. When he spoke again his voice was as cool and unreadable as ever through the mask... betraying nothing of whatever conclusion he had reached within.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. For now, focus on the mission. And secure the elevator, Oliveira."

"Yes sir..."

It would have to be enough for now. At least he had made his concerns known, and the agent was considering them. Carlos's hand tightened a little, pursing his lips, glanced down to the shredded corpse of the director one more time, and then looked over across the room to the far end of the wall the door they had come through was positioned. He looked to the closed steel doors of the elevator, and as ordered, he turned and made his way across to it, passing the shelves, desks and trolley with the coffeemaker on it... until he reached the doors and tapping the call button. He lowered his hand, and waited patiently for the doors to part, unslinging his rifle and keeping it ready in one hand, the barrel and flashlight aimed at the door. He waited several long moments... and when the doors didn't open, he tapped the button again... then again, impatiently. Still, there was no response... much to his confusion. Muttering under his breath.

"The fuck?"

He eyed the panel closely... apart from the up and down call buttons, it consisted of a green button marked 'unlock', and the other glowing red and predictably engaged, read 'lock'. There was one other button, a small yellow one beneath a small speaker device in the panel... and he rose his eyes slightly to the top of the panel to find blinking red words reflected back at him above the buttons. Voice Recognition Lock Engaged. It figured... nothing could be simple for them... it would be asking too much. His brows narrowed with annoyance... and for a moment, he considered pressing the microphone button and cursing a few words into it... but knowing the failed outcome of it already, and not much wishing to embarrass himself, he merely grunted under his breath, shaking his head, and lowering his rifle back down to his side, turning on the spot and looking back across the desks to HUNK, breaking the quiet again with reluctance.

"Houston, we have a problem over here."

"What now?"

"There's a voice recognition lock on the panel. And seeing as there aren't exactly any doctors around to help... or at least in any position to, I'm stumped.", Carlos informed him, gesturing to the door panel, staring closely at the back of the agent's helmet, who still didn't turn around, his muffled words unconcerned. As ever. "How the hell are we going to get through? Even if we managed to blow the doors down, or the panel, there's no guarantee it won't damage the elevator functionality. I'm getting pretty damn tired of this puzzle crap... you know what I mean? What the hell is wrong with this town? Besides the obvious... making things more complicated than it should be."

"It doesn't matter. We'll find a way.", HUNK replied at last, folding up the map carefully and tucking it into one of his pouches, closing it as he gave the dilemma some thought. Finally turning and glancing back slightly over to the dead Director against the couch... then across the desks and to the irritated mercenary in front of the doorway. His eyes drifted from the mercenary, and over the surface of the desk, his eyes swiveling intently over the assorted files, computers and other pieces of equipment occupying it, remaining where he stood. "First things first... we're in a hospital, and there was a full staff here at one point. This is also the doctor's lounge... and I know doctors like to record their thoughts on patients... therefor..."

The U.S.S. Agent, having been prepared to rummage through the various drawers on the desk and the cabinets below them, was saved from the need of it as his eyes moved to the closest desk to him where he stood next to the bulletin board. He spotted it, next to the computer's mouse and pad... nodding his helmeted head slightly with slow satisfaction and stepping over to the desk, retrieving it in one hand and examining it closely. A dark tape recorder... it was of no real surprise, knowing as well as he did how doctors did things. Standard procedure and habits to increase efficiency. Doctor Radames kept a number of them in her lab, for her experiments and patients... especially her patient recordings of him. She was meticulous that way, but it wasn't unique to scientists or doctors. Oliveira was correct that a voice recognition lock was over the top for an ordinary elevator... but he there was nothing ordinary about this one. He remembered the letter from Doctor Bard to the company, still in his pouch, speaking of card keys used on the other elevators. Perhaps the Umbrella doctors had wanted this particular elevator to be their own private one, free from the hassle... it seemed likely. He popped open the device to find a cassette very much inside, and closed it back up, rose his eyes back to Oliveira, and held up the recorder to the young man, who recognized the device, looking over it from where he was and staring with surprise back at him.

"Problem solved."

"...man, you're pretty good with the puzzles, aren't you?"

"Had a good teacher."

"Thank God, at least one of us did. I was about ready to go try to blow up that shutter. Don't have the patience for this shit.", Carlos sighed with relief, chuckling a bit under his breath, before crossing the room over to HUNK, who continued to hold out the recording device for him to take from his open glove, and retrieving it from the agent, nodding respectfully, smiling and tapping the device against his head lightly, turning on the spot to head back to the elevator. "Lucky you're here. Let's get this show on the road already."

Carlos didn't wait for a response, knowing one wasn't necessary, passing the cluttered desks and coffee trolley, he made it back over to the door, eyes lowering again to the panel, focusing entirely on it. He glanced down to the yellow microphone button below the speaker and tapped it with an index finger. The glowing words above, warning of the voice recognition lock, was replaced by other words at once. Please enter your voice. Carlos looked to the dark tape recorder in the palm of his hand, glancing over the various marked buttons on it, finding the familiar 'play' symbol, and pressing it firmly. At once, crackling to life, and speaking mid sentence, a hesitant sounding woman's voice filled the speaker, along with a man's furious, irate voice.

"All I wanted to know was what the documents were doing in your office in the first place."

"Who the hell do you think you're talking to? I'm goddamn Nathaniel Bard! I'm the best biologist you'll ever meet, you bedpan-changing waste of a nursing degree!"

During the rant, the glowing red 'lock' button beeped and switched off... simultaneously transferring a glow of light, though green, to the 'unlock' button. At this, Carlos hit the stop button on the tape recorder, cutting off the doctor's angry voice, satisfied that was enough required. Still, as a precaution, in case it was needed again for another locking mechanism, he rewinded it back to the start of Bard's rant and paused, then stowed it away into the backpack with the diary for safe keeping.

""Voila. Real charming asshole to his staff, isn't that Bard? Wanting to mass produce the cure or not."

"Evidently. She was right about him."

"Who, that poor nurse?"

"Nevermind."

Carlos merely chuckled and shrugged, returning his attention ahead. Taking a sideways step over in front of the door, he rose the assault rifle in both hands again as the panel clicked... and the doors began to part. His flashlight shone into the interior... but was swallowed up by the bright light already inside... his barrel swept over the elevator shaft... but he found at once the spacious interior to be quite empty, and holding no unpleasant surprises for them, to his relief. Always a plus. Though what did emerge from the elevator was some upbeat elevator music in the system, left running, even now in the middle of a dead city. He reached to the flashlight, close to the mounted grenade launcher on the under barrel, and flicked it off, no longer requiring it for the moment. Then he turned back, to find to his sudden surprise, that HUNK stood at his side, having gotten there as silently as a ghost, no longer back at the other end of the lounge. His heart leap slightly at the shock, but he didn't allow himself to show it... much.

"Damn dude, gotta stop sneaking up on a person like that. One of these days gonna accidentally squeeze the trigger and waste a magazine against the floor."

No response came from behind the gas mask, save his breaths. The agent looked between the empty interior, and to the mercenary, breathing his muffled breaths, modified MP5 still lowered, but clutched firmly in both hands. Agent HUNK inclined his helmet, for the mercenary to head inside... and at once, Carlos did so, stepping into the elevator shaft, the agent following him in, and each turning to face the opened doors. It was actually reasonably spacious inside, as far as elevators went... probably having to transfer whatever experiments they were working on in the labs. But there was something eerie about being in the enclosed space... as they were, and as the situation in the hospital was, and the doors hadn't even closed yet... and continued not to. Carlos turned his attention to the button panel on the inside of the shaft... the floors were numbered, going all the way up to 5, the roof, and possessing three basement levels as well. He considered it for a few moments... never having thought how big a place like this was... were all of them like that? Or had the funding from Umbrella been the result? It was almost funny how much everything seemed to come back to Umbrella lately... and he wouldn't put it past any of them. The low familiar tone spoke again, reminding him of his duty... no, not reminding him, he knew it well... rather helpfully redirected him when he required it. He was starting to realize that... cold as he outwardly seemed, everything he did was for a reason.

"The Fourth Floor."

"Right..."

At the agent's calm reminder, Carlos tapped the appropriate 4F button at once, which lit up and glowed... and a moment later, the steel doors shut back together, and the elevator began to move and hum in response, rising slowly up through the hospital around them. The weird sensation in his legs that the elevator caused passed over him, but he ignored it, peering at the button panel as the floors lit up as they passed them, the rumbling growing a little the higher they rose up through the hospital. He glanced back to the doors to find the familiar red laser sight settling its self upon it. Neither man spoke again in the elevator, hearing only the irritatingly upbeat music surrounding them inside the elevator. Carlos copied the agent's action, leveling his rifle at the doors... ready for, and not desiring, the worst case scenario waiting on the other side of it at the top. He knew damn well they were going to have their work cut out for them one way or another... that it wasn't going to be easy, none of it. They had only just begun, and anything could happen... he had no illusions about that, not anymore. He thought of Jill... feared for her, whether succumbing to her virus... or the chance, however remote, that the Tyrant would return to finish her off in their absence. It didn't seem likely... and a part of him believed she and HUNK had finally killed the damn thing. It wasn't invincible... couldn't be, not if it could be warded off by damage.

Resilient? No shit. Unkillable? Impossible... wasn't it? In a sane world, the answer was yes... in the real world, he didn't know. He just wanted to believe. It hadn't come back in the past two days... and surely if it was alive, it would have by now. It hadn't... he tried to keep that in mind, chant it silently like a survival mantra, the survival of his sanity, really. He had left the grenade launcher and some shells with her, at least, just in case. Still... it had been with nothing but reluctance he had left her side... knowing what had to be done... that their work here was of the utmost importance... but more than ever he wished to be back with her. The three of them, working together... there was something to it, so very different from his service in the U.B.C.S... he felt part of something more. He couldn't quite place what it was.

He wondered what HUNK was thinking on that subject, and Jill's safety in their absence... whether it crossed his mind... or even existed. Carlos now believed it did, somewhere very deep down, but it was there nonetheless. He was not so stupid as to believe otherwise... or to pry on that matter. All he knew was what he had seen back there... along with his words, still filtering through Carlos's mind. There was far more to the agent, that was clear enough... and more and more Carlos wanted to find out what else there was to the man. Still, the sad truth was he had no time to ponder it really at the moment, with everything else going on simultaneously. It was a curiosity that would dance at the edges of his thoughts s their mission went along, as they rose floor by floor, until at last reaching the fourth, the elevator coming to a gradual stop with an oddly pleasant 'ding' sound, a sharp contrast to the mood. Another thought and concern came to him as this happened... was their Pursuer the only Tyrant in the city?

It seemed pretty unlikely, from what he had heard from HUNK of Umbrella dropping B.O.W.'s into the war zone intentionally. He didn't want to consider another like the Pursuer... or worse, if that was even possible, stalking around the city for survivors like them. It troubled him in many ways... and if it was true, he silently wished those poor bastards all the luck they would need. The only good thing that would come from the nuclear strike at noon... the eradication of such monsters. They had no place in the world... but even if they were destroyed, Umbrella still had the means to simply make more... and create another Raccoon City. Unless they got their hands on the vaccine, perhaps... and fulfilled Jill's wishes... at the expense of her own life. The troubling thought made him shake his head, forcing it aside, trying to focus. The vaccine had to be found first... and then they would worry about that. Grip tightening on the rifle, peering down the scope intently at the steel doors, Carlos held his breath unconsciously, expecting and not hoping for the worst.

A couple moments passed, seeming to last ages... but at last, they parted, revealing the well illuminated hallway outside and wall adjacent to the elevator. Nothing sprang out at them... there were no creatures ready to ambush them... at least yet, nor any noises... nothing he could hear over the music emanating through the floor. All he could glimpse from his position was a painting of a flower pot hung up on the wall... a weak attempt to liven the place up, perhaps, if nothing else. Glancing to HUNK, the U.S.S. Agent nodded, gesturing him forward with a hand signal silently, and Carlos obeyed, stepping out of the elevator shaft and into the hall, glancing to the right and pivoting down to the left, the corridor, and peering down it carefully, rifle remaining in a ready position. On the right hand side of the elevator was a dead end, with no more than a 'no smoking' sign pinned to the wall, and beside it, closest to the elevator, a larger sign denoting directions on the layout of the floor.

Matters of little account... Carlos steadied his rifle, peering down the scope to the corridor, taking in what it offered. For the most part, it was empty of notable features... save a metal abandoned trolley covered in medical supplies residing half way up the hall, beside another left corner turn to another hall he couldn't make out where he was, and the rest of the floor down at the far end. There was a faintly glowing red pair of buttons, or signals, on the wall close to the trolley... while further down this wall, closer to the end, another painting hung crooked, barely attached, while yet another lay smashed on the floor below, covered in glass. Close to this, a light that had been hanging above had dropped at some point, its self smashed and close to the wrecked painting.

From what he could make out, there was only one door on this particular hallway... at the far, right hand side of the corridor... the rest of the way along the walls were lined by a railing, doubtlessly for the benefit of patients when the hospital had been in better conditions. Besides that, there was only a notice board at the farthest end of the corridor, beside the lone door, hanging partially off the wall and facing Carlos's direction... a chalk board at that. For some reason, it was the eerie stillness and quiet that creeped Carlos out more than familiar moans would. It was so... alien, especially somewhere like a hospital, which was supposed to in normal times be bustling full of noise day and night all year round. He almost missed being back out on the streets already There was something strange about the lack of corpses, walking and otherwise... even if it was welcome. Gradually, deeming the area momentarily secure, he took another step forward tentatively, as beside him the familiar red laser sight covered his movements... he didn't bother looking back, knowing the agent had his.

Slowly he approached the trolley, giving it a mere sweeping glance at the various medical instruments and supplies, none of it worth considering... his attention instead on the subsequent corner close to the trolley. Raising his rifle again, holding his breath, he swept around the corner once more... and deeming it, quite welcomely, all clear again. The subsequent hallway was much shorter than the one they stood in... but like the one they stood in, there was a bulletin board posted up at the end of the side corridor, and a couple railings stretching along either side of the walls. There were a few water sprinklers overhead along the ceiling, and a red pull switch fire alarm to activate them down the main hall and against the left hand wall near the divided corridors. Far more notably, there were a couple doors along this hall on the right hand side, each denoted by a glowing, illuminated light shining numbers. 401. 402. Was that it for doors on this floor? Surely there was far more rooms on the floor of a hospital of all places... wasn't there? Maybe this was just one particular special, isolated wing on the floor. It made sense, considering they hadn't taken the main elevator, rather a private one from the doctor's lounge. Perhaps it was tied to Umbrella's labs... that this was one of the levels they worked at, each floor with an isolated section, just for the employees on Umbrella's payroll, away from the rest of most of the hospital.

Moreover, considering elements of Umbrella had been developing a vaccination here, and God knew what else, it would make sense to hide part of it as much away from the public on the main levels and floors of the hospital as possible. According to the letter even the other doctors had been starting to get suspicious, regardless of all the precautions. Which room had held the Vaccine Base again? 401? 402? It hardly mattered, they would be investigating both. He felt HUNK's presence at his side again silently, and he knew it was time to move on again, his eyes moving to the glowing numbers over the first door. 401. Yet, the moment Carlos started towards it, he was given pause mid step, when a low, muffled sound came from behind them, and he spun on the spot, leveling his rifle cautiously back at the wall behind them, heart beating quicker... until he recognized the sound to be not the one he was used to lately, but the one he had been before Raccoon City.

Voices. Speaking... very muffled, the words difficult to make out... but two voices nonetheless. They were coming from further down the main corridor of the private wing, from beyond the lone door close to the chalk board at the end of the hall, the door again coming into view as Carlos stepped back over beside the trolley where HUNK was, the two of them peering down towards the sounds. The voices were low, deep, and heated in manner... arguing about something... or at least, one of them was arguing... the other calm. Carlos looked between the door and the agent, before his stunned voice spoke up on its own accord.

"What the hell... who could possibly still be...-

HUNK responded with a cutting hand gesture for silence at once, and Carlos obeyed, heart still beating quicker, curiosity for the voices overtaking his prior consideration of room 401. If the agent knew something, he wasn't letting on... but this time, he did not gesture for Carlos to take the lead in investigating the noise. Rather, he rose his modified weapon's laser sight and aimed it in the direction of the door, and started forward slowly and quietly, taking the reigns of point man again from the mercenary, who had no objections in the least. Keeping his rifle leveled, and following the agent closely, yet remaining cautious and quiet, even as a plethora of questions circulated through his mind, the two of them moved carefully down the main corridor to its end, avoiding their boots from crunching over the glass of the broken painting. Reaching the door and chalkboard on the wall, HUNK took up a position on one side of the door, closest to the handle... and Carlos picked up on the tactic at once... positioning himself on the other side of the wall without needing to be directed to.

It was a small space, and as such he leaned partially into the wall holding the chalk notice board... but found when he put a bit of weight into it, a few small pieces of the wall fell down to the floor, along with some dust. He glanced to it briefly, to find that beyond the chalk board were a few long, deep cracks running along it... the section looked as though it had been weakened or battered by something, a blow perhaps. But pushing outward from within... eroding. Though apart from that, the wall was very much intact. He returned his attention where it belonged, to the muffled voices, and to HUNK... although with another gloved hand signal on the agent's part, Carlos knew it would be a quiet infiltration, as opposed to breaking the door down and going in guns blazing... like him, HUNK probably knew it was frightened civilians or doctors holed up in the place, uncertain perhaps to stay put or make a break for it. The idea of seeing more civilians, more living faces was an appealing one... and would be one hell of a morale boost... for him, anyway, he doubted the same of HUNK. Bringing civilians was likely to slow down their pursuit of the vaccine, and moreover, their evacuation... and the agent was likely to have some objections about it. Still, perhaps he could be convinced to let them tag along. If reluctantly.

There was no way Carlos was going to allow any of the few living left in the city to go abandoned, so long as it was in his power. Still... he understood the agent's pragmatism and caution... the voices beyond were potentially armed, and would shoot without thinking. He remembered the stories of the chaos in the midst of Raccoon City's downfall, ones he had heard from, at the time, survivors... of looting and civilians shooting one another... or having to be shot down by police, losing their heads to the madness of it all. Chaos. It was of no surprise really, people did the same thing in situations lesser than the outbreak... humans were easily panicked, and by a zombie epidemic? It went without saying. They fought and argued among themselves, even without a good reason. The zombie movies had taught him that much already... even if they did go overboard in places. Carlos peered back at his reflection in the agent's mask, and then back to the metal door, studying it closely for the first time... to find a small white plaque on it, with two words. Data Room. Even without the voices beyond it, the two words only added to his curiosity.

Carlos's grip tightened on his rifle as HUNK's grip moved down to the door handle, grasping it and pushing it open slowly, quietly, moving away from his side of the wall as it swung, taking up his submachine gun and leveling it as the small opening grew. He stepped into the room, with Carlos copying the action right away, standing at his side and casting a quick glance over what details of the data room he could make out from where they were now within. The entire area was cluttered with papers strewn about freely... and there was a desk to their immediate right to greet them, also covered in paper, reports, a leftover pot of coffee, and a cup with pencils and pens in it... among other occupying its surface. Behind the desk, other than a folding chair, occupying the wall was a large cabinet... not for files, but for cardboard boxes, of which there were plenty around the room and in corners, or stacked high above on the cabinet, and another one close to it, albeit one meant for files, and closed up with glass.

Past this, there was a back room of sorts... from where he was, he couldn't make out how big it was or most of the other details. A tall, black leather rolling chair with its back turned to them obscured most of the desk down there. But he could glimpse some jars... the side of a computer monitor, and a device that could have been a microscope. Besides that was out of his view around a corner... and his eyes moved on. Directly in front of them, mostly dividing the room, one tall, very long filing cabinet, bookshelf of sorts stretched along the floor, stuffed full of files, some of which were hanging out, most of it messy and disorganized among the rows. The cabinet obscured another back room, along with a copying machine directly ahead of them and connected to the shelf. To their immediate left, pushed into corner next to the door was a flat workplace trolley, with a stack of cardboard boxes on it, a few of which had fallen off and scattered papers about.

There were a couple red sitting stools, one upright on its legs, the other turned over. Above all of this, resided a quartet of windows stretching along the western wall of the room, the first three each with their blinds down. Though in the case of the first one, many of the shutters were broken off and hanging awkwardly, while the second window was a bit less messy, and the third quite intact... save the blood splatters on it, and the edge of the frame of the wall of the third and fourth window... with a couple of patches staining on the marble floor. Carlos drew in a low breath, rifle still at the ready... as behind them, the door shut audibly... and the voices filtered back into his ears, along with HUNK's low breaths at his side, laser sight already sweeping the area for the direction of the voices. The one speaking deep and accented.

"-... not a requirement any longer. As such, Tyrell, on the authority of the Captain of the Guard, your contract with the company has been terminated."

"DON'T SHOOT! DON'T!"

Four sharp, powerful rapports of a pistol exploded from behind the filing cabinet, from the back room, where the voices had been coming from, cutting off the loud desperate shout. The moment they began to carry through the data room, hell at the sound of the voices, HUNK snapped his laser sight in the direction of the filing cabinet, behind which the sounds emanated. He broke into a burst of speed at the gunshots, with Carlos managing to keep pace and remain at his side as the two of them passed the windows and carried themselves around the filing cabinet. Simultaneously, something heavy dropped to the ground with a thud from around the cabinet... and they each knew it could only be one thing. While HUNK kept his modified MP5 up and at the ready, Carlos was not so prepared, and even holding it down in his hands as he was, didn't raise it at first... more shocked by the suddenness of what had occurred than anything. HUNK stopped in his tracks around the corner, aiming at something, and Carlos, at his side followed suit.

"Hold it right there!"

Carlos rose the rifle up and followed with his eye in the direction of the agent's laser sight at once... and found himself far more shocked than even the sudden gunfire had caused. A familiar red and white Umbrella insignia on the back of a black vest greeted them... with a shield stamped out on it and crossing swords. Along with the olive green uniform of a tall, broad shouldered man just about the size of a weight lifter, who stood down the way with his back to them, lowering a pistol down to his side. A modified M4 like Carlos's slung securely across his back. He stood quite comfortably overtop a body with a hand on his hip, while the other with the smoking SIG Pro remained pointed downward. The details of the body were difficult to make out from where Carlos stood, in unison with the man obscuring much of it in the more tightened space between the wall and cabinet. Nevertheless, he watched fresh crimson blood trickle steadily over the floor, forming a small puddle that touched the shooter's dark leather combat boots. Although utterly bewildered, not knowing how it could be possible, there could be no mistaking the identity of the man in question. His head slowly turning their way and revealing it openly. The man's pale, clean shaven, chiseled, blood stained features, the blood glistening in his short silver hair and running down his vest. His icy blue eyes looking back at Carlos unblinkingly as the crimson fluid dripped and ran down his face, unperturbed by what he had just done. Or surprised by the sight of their sudden appearance.

The same could not be said for Carlos, his eyes widening with disbelief.

"Nikolai...?"