Akira-Hayama: Definitely, wanted to bring them together over a common cause to interact, test their character dynamic. Since under ordinary circumstances HUNK wouldn't talk much to him, merely issues orders, but under these ones he's force outside of his comfort zone. Though even then, is fairly hesitant about engaging with him. But HUNK knows and appreciated that he saved HUNK and Jill, so is returning his gratitude. At least tolerating him a bit more. It's a much different dynamic he has than with Jill, but both are important for his development as a character. Them having a common cause in Jill helps, and he definitely does see some of the young man he was in Carlos, a more hopeful and optimistic person, a side of him that's pretty much been in a coma so long it may as well be dead.
The puzzle thing was a late addition in my editing, it felt like a natural explanation for why the mansion is what it is, and helps expand upon Bella, and her own relationship to Lord Spencer... which will certainly be explained later. HUNK having all this insight was vital, he has seen and knows a lot, so as more is slowly revealed, it feels natural to me, he's revealing it mentally under the circumstances that remind him of what he knows from the past. All these reminders of her chafing at him, but returning, forcing him to confront things in Raccoon City. His past. Like he's Ebeneezer Scrooge on Christmas in a way lol, Carlos the Ghost of Christmas Past reminding him of the man he was, Jill the Ghost of Christmas Present showing him the negative effect he/Umbrella have had on the world and people like her, Nikolai/Nemesis the Ghosts of Christmas Future, dark mirrors of him, showing him what is to come for him if he doesn't change his ways, learn from his mistakes.
Much appreciated, I try to nail atmosphere as best as I can, and the eerie creepy hospital stuff is always great in survival horror movies/stories/games. Classic location in any horror work. Like the original RE3 I wanted to hold back on a horde of zombies waiting for them... preferring to limit the hostiles to give them more impact and presence. Maintain the creepiness and horror instead of turning it into an all out gun battle. Weight over excess I generally strive for, not that action stuff won't come up.
That definitely plays into their dynamic, HUNK is getting tired of secrets, carrying as many of them as he has for so long. And recognizing some of the man he was in Carlos, is trying to teach him something, basically 'don't fuck up like I did. I'm too far gone, you aren't.' HUNK doesn't like lies, lying, pretending to be someone he's not like the manipulative sorts of spies who smile and pretend, like Ada really. Even if he isn't manipulative that way, his lies are generally ones of omission though, so he is still a liar, and he is wrestling with that fact. He's a spy too, like Ada and Nikolai, just another sort. A sort of reversal between him and Carlos makes sense at this point to their characters, helps explore the sides to them both, Carlos wrestling with the ethics of the situation, wanting to save Jill but her wanting to save the world, whether to obey her wish or not. HUNK meanwhile already knows what has to be done, but is coming to terms with what it means.
Good ol' Nikolai. Bastard's not going anywhere for awhile, unfortunately and fortunately. He makes for a hell of an antagonist, and is very important to it going forward. Especially to HUNK's story. As the three heroes are rising again, recovering together from what happened to them before, so have been the three antagonists in the city separately. All of them went through the wringer, but it's far from over yet.
Arkham Knight: Much appreciated, HUNK is the challenge of the story, but so far I seem to have him down. Figured out for the most part. But have to be careful to reveal what I feel is important, only when it is right to. The challenge of writing a living legend/walking mystery, humanizing and explaining him, getting into that head. Oh for my own sanity I've long given up on Capcom giving HUNK his due, that's why I decided that if anyone was going to do it, it had to be me.
Rock992: Much appreciated, glad I draw so many thoughts out of you, and that you're appreciating the story. I'd say he's not quite as muscular as Jay lol he'd big, strong, lives up to the codename, but not looking like a Tyrant. Though you are right, Carla's interested for a reason. A flirtation there. You are correct on Carlos looking upon HUNK in a similar way as he did upon War once upon a time, minus the romantic angle, obviously lol. I think even though part of him is used to being looked at that way by others, subordinates, resigned to it, another part will never be used to it. Finds it surreal and strange, makes him uncomfortable. He didn't get into it to become a legendary agent, he did it to impress War, wanted to make her happy, prove he was worth her by being like her... but 'be careful what you wish for' because it came true. He became like her, and she left him anyways, now he's stuck in a position she was in before him. You can imagine how embittered it has left him, but resigned to his ironic fate. Your impressive interpretation of his and War's relationship is pretty close to the mark, kudos. Not entirely so, but getting there. She was watching him changing under her influence, and may have been both admiring and perturbed by it. Sort of a "What the hell have I done to this boy?" Though that isn't the reason she left, and there are circumstances outside HUNK behind her decision, there's more to the story. Things HUNK doesn't know, but had to fill in the gaps in his head, interpret it in the absence of answers. He isn't necessarily right, being very much biased and understandably bitter.
evolution-500: Much appreciated, really, the details add up over time and are important to a work, fleshing out the universe surrounding the characters, in the locations, atmosphere and feel of the story, I wanted to get that right. As for the inspirations, there were countless inspirations, especially for the characters and my depiction and ideas of them. I will list all the inspirations for everyone along with my thoughts/analysis of them in the post epilogue notes page of the story, when we eventually get there. Yes indeed, Jill is drawing it out of him, he feels like a bit of an ass and some embarrassment speaking of such things, but his guard is weakening and lowering steadily at certain points and times. He's talking and saying more than he knows he should be, and under other circumstances he wouldn't say a word. But there's nothing normal about Raccoon City and what he has found himself tangled up in there.
Reptaliator: For Tyrell I wanted to go with his original role and status as a Monitor instead of the straight up hero/friend/sidekick of Carlos who died trying to help Jill. Nikolai is not the only Monitor, or one out to profit from his position, profit from Raccoon City. That said there will be some light touches from the remake version of him, he isn't entirely like Nikolai. Not the straight up villain of the original or straight up hero of the remake, rather a man who fought in Raccoon City beside Carlos, his friend, but still a Monitor, and what that entails. A more complicated balance of the versions I think works for the story, and for Carlos's character and arc, realizing what he is in with Umbrella. Were it so easy to just neckbreaker Nikolai right away lol, but the bastard has more conflict to sow and pain to inflict on the heroes and the story. A story needs it's villains as much as it does it's heroes, of course. Stay tuned, hope you like what's coming.
Thank you all for the reviews, as ever. When we last left our heroes they were in some hot water... let's see how they navigate themselves out of it. A certain familiar foe returns. And the adventure continues.
September 30th, 1998, 10:21 PM
Data Room, Raccoon General Hospital, Northern Raccoon City
"Sergeant... you're still alive? Jill told us you didn't make it back at the sales office... that the zombies got you."
Carlos lowered the assault rifle slowly in confusion as he surveyed the very much alive older Sergeant. He began to move forward away from HUNK, down over the floor, closing much of the distance between the two of them, until he stood directly before Nikolai. Regardless of the confusion over what had occurred, he felt a stirring of something like relief to see the other man had made it seemingly alright... he had no visible wounds anyways. Though he wore blood stains that were not his. There had to be an explanation for what he'd done. Things could not be as hopeless as they seemed, or get any worse. Nightmares had to end, and they needed an extra set of hands to help them escape, to save Jill. Who better than one of his fellow mercenaries to join their mission again, and a man who had proved himself and more in prior operations, who Carlos could attest for? Regardless of the tenseness that had occurred back on the train between the agent and mercenary, surely they had to agree, as they had then, to put aside their differences. Although the situation had changed, there had to be some constants.
"How did you survive? How did you get all the way out here?"
"Oliveira. You look as though you've seen a ghost. And Death... you look ever more like your namesake. Though still you live."
Nikolai 's low, cold Russian accent replied, as he flatly ignored the Corporal's confusion and question, slowly turning on the spot to fully face both him at his side, and HUNK further down towards the bloodied window. His cold blue eyes gleamed in the light overhead, not the least bit startled by their sudden presence and stumbling upon what had just unfolded. His expression was carefully neutral, unreadable as ever, though his eyes flickering between the two of them, reading them like an x-ray.
"You saw what happened? And you made it this far. Of course you did... with the company you are keeping. Though what brings the two of you all the way out here while you could be fleeing the city... well that is most curious..."
"Where have you been, Sergeant? Who is that you just shot, and why? How did you...-"
"Corporal.", HUNK's terse, cold voice intoned audibly, cutting over Carlos 's words, the agent remaining exactly where he was, the laser sight rising from Nikolai's vest and upward to his head. Carlos's eyes snapped back to the agent at once, widening with alarm at the unusual tone and manner he displayed. He spoke to the Corporal, yet all his focused attention remained solely on the Sergeant. "Get away from him. Now. Out of my line of fire. He was never on your side."
"HUNK, what the hell are you talking about? Just wait a goddamn minute...-"
"You did not tell him, did you? Or the girl, I am certain. Wherever she might be."
Nikolai interrupted with grim, detached amusement at the prospect, entirely unflinching or intimidated as the laser sight passed over his form. He addressed only HUNK now, no longer seeing the young man as his smirk deepened towards the modified submachine gun. Beside him, Carlos looked from Nikolai and down to the shot up body, glimpsing a black bespectacled man with a shaven head wearing the same uniform both Carlos and Nikolai, and everyone in the U.B.C.S. wore... stained in blood, a splatter of which was against his forehead and much of his face. Carlos recognized him at once, a wave of horror and disbelief moving through his insides, freezing him where he was. Tyrell, staring straight ahead blankly with his eyes closed, barely breathing still, dying, leaned up against a pile of clutter that comprised the back room behind the cabinet. Blood flowing freely from the different bullet holes in him, each precisely in places where his body armor didn't cover. He felt as though he were punched in the gut, then. The Sergeant's voice as well as HUNK's were dim and distant, through the realization of what had happened to his friend. What had been done to him.
"I'm hardly surprised... you do keep that information close to the vest, unless it serves you... do you not? How they trust you still escapes me. And to think you call me a liar between the two of us. Does the Colonel know you are still alive, and in defiance of Article 12?"
"I am not beholden to Colonel Vladimir. Do not recognize his authority. It's your leash he holds. Not mine."
"Ahh. Of course. I remember. Your lady of War and her fine print for the U.S.S. A nice 'fuck you', among others, she left behind to keep the Colonel somewhat in check. Checks and balances. You were her biggest one though, were you not?"
"Shut up. You aren't talking your way out of this one."
"Don't be so sure. You came for the vaccine. That is why you are here still, in this city. And without Valentine. She is infected, you have left her somewhere.", Nikolai considered, looking coldly thoughtful. Equal parts bewildered and amused as he came to a dawning comprehension. The gears visibly working in his head. Working the angle that presented it's self, his deep, accented voice chuckling under his breath. "You... are actually going out of your way for her? To save her? In that case, you should know something, before pulling that trigger."
"What?"
"Shoot me, and the vaccine goes with me. I took it already. Stashed it at one of my hideouts around the city for safekeeping. Returned here for other laboratory data. Doctor Bard's material."
"You're bluffing."
"Am I? Try me then, Death. How much are you prepared to risk? Yourself? I'm sure you are. You do so every day. But what of her? Going this far out of your way... would you risk returning to her side empty handed?"
The agent said nothing to that, staring back at the cold, faint smirk that slowly formed upon the Sergeant's bloody, amused features. Not an ounce of fear in the Sergeant's icy gaze. Rather, there was something thrilled and alive to his visage now, knowing the laser sight was hovering at the center of his forehead. Staring down death. HUNK's finger remained on the trigger, but remained still. Hesitating. Almost everything in him told him to squeeze the trigger... to remove Nikolai from the world once and for all. Everything at least... except for a voice. Hers. And her pained blue eyes, looking back at him from the alter. His jaw tightened unpleasantly beneath the mask as he considered it. At the same time, at last Carlos's shock began to wane, and he heard a voice burst out of him. Outrage returning to him.
"Sergeant... that's... T? What the fuck?! Why did you kill him?!"
Carlos exploded, returning to his senses with a start at last, a cold anger coursing through him along with bewilderment. He moved closer towards the Sergeant, directly between him and HUNK's laser sight, looking to the bleeding man who had been a buddy. Who he had worked with during the outbreak, before they had been separated. He'd thought the man dead... and now he really was. At the Sergeant's hand. He looked back up to the calm, expressionless Russian watching him with cold, dead eyes. The murder weapon held casually at his side.
"What the fuck is going on here?! What were you both doing here?!"
"Oliveira. Enough. Get out of the way. Or you both die."
"I am one of the Supervisors.", Nikolai answered Carlos tonelessly at last, entirely void of remorse or hesitation, looking to the younger man as though he were little more than an annoyance, and one easily remedied. Something to be scraped off his bloodied boot. At his side, he instantly snapped up the SIG Pro pistol and aimed it squarely at Carlos's head, smirk deepening the moment the laser sight that had settled on his own had been obscured by the foolish young man's mistake. Carlos's eyes widened all the more, and he remained frozen where he was, rifle still at his side as though it weren't even there, taken off guard. "That's all you need to know. And you... I shall see you off to hell, Grim Reaper, before I am inconvenienced again. Places to be. Data to gather. People to kill. Try to shoot me after I am through with Oliveira, and you will never lay eyes on your precious American whore's vaccine. Instead you will get to watch her rot and die and rise again. That I promise you."
"Wait! Let's just talk about this Sergeant! You don't have to do this!"
"No... but I want to."
Before any of the three could act, HUNK opening fire, Nikolai shooting Carlos and Carlos being shot, each option was taken from each of their hands by a familiar sound audible to all three of the men. A metal click, courtesy of the believed dead body shifting. Both Carlos and Nikolai had only a split moment to turn their heads and take in the details of what was occurring, each of their expressions frozen instantly. Already Carlos was very slowly backing up, but he saw enough. The man in the U.B.C.S. uniform was not quite as deceased as they had all thought him to be. Tyrell gurgled up some blood, coughing and shifting slightly as it ran down the corner of his mouth, and he stared up with seething hatred back at the pair of them... or rather for an instant, that was what Carlos believed. When he thought about it later, it became all the more obvious the man had only eyes for Nikolai 's expressionless, gruff features. But it all happened so quickly Carlos barely had time to register it. He forced his labored voice to speak again, glancing to Carlos for just an instant as the blood ran from his mouth. A sad smile touching his lips, replacing even the hatred for the Sergeant.
"Carlos... I'm sorry... man. This is... all I can do... try to set it right. Run... please..."
Tyrell had pulled forth a grenade from his belt... a belt Carlos had overlooked in his first look at his bullet ridden friend previously. A belt not altogether different from the one he had retrieved from the soldier downstairs in the lobby... with more objects on it like the one in the man's gloved hand. In that moment, Tyrell pulled the pin with his teeth and closed his eyes calmly. At the same time, both Carlos and Nikolai whirled around and burst into motion, racing down back towards HUNK standing before the window. The agent peered past them, and to the grenade covered operative, recognizing the same urgency they did. Recognizing action was required, and with no time to level his sights on Nikolai to shoot him down, not knowing if he could do so without getting himself killed by the grenades in the process, hitting Oliveira or both, HUNK dived to his immediate right to the floor.
He landed roughly on his back with his helmeted head against one of the cardboard boxes, and snapping up his submachine gun again in Nikolai's direction. For his part, Nikolai did not seem to bother aiming his pistol up even once as he ran, focused solely on one thing and one thing alone. Getting clear. An intent, hardened look in his eyes. At the same moment, Carlos followed suit with HUNK and did a forward somersault around the corner of the shelf away from the path, landing beside the agent. Before HUNK could settle his laser sight on Nikolai 's running form, and before the man could roll to safety as well, the grenade... grenades, detonated as one, and a great explosion and noise tore through the Hospital's data room, overtaking each of their eardrums and senses. While Carlos, ears ringing and numbed, covered his head where he lay on the floor, HUNK own hand shot up instinctively, but through his lenses he caught enough of a glimpse of what became of Nikolai before he could round the corner.
Either the force of the explosion behind him blew him forward, or maybe, more likely, the traitorous, blood coated Russian did it intentionally. The large man shot the fourth floor window ahead of him, pistol roaring, and then dived right through it head first, disappearing out into the night as the glass exploded as surely as the grenades. Sending glass shards raining all over the place, cutting up Carlos's arm as he held it over himself. A few long moments passed before HUNK and Carlos got a hold of themselves and what had happened, recovering, with HUNK rising first and standing tall, ignoring the thick smoke billowing from behind the filing cabinet, fire crackling. The agent paced through the smoke and over to the destroyed window, boots crumbling and breaking displaced floor tiles and pieces of debris from the walls and ceiling that had been blown out of their former positions. Peering down into the night to the streets below, hand instinctively gripping the windowpane.
Even as he did so, he did it knowing he wouldn't glimpse a trace of the Monitor in the darkness. It had been a long drop, that much was certain... even if he survived the explosion, there was a high chance the man had broken his legs, or some parts of himself from the impact. HUNK listened closely into the rainy night, hearing the far echoes of moaning around the hospital, and further into the city... even the occasional gunshot too far in the distance to belong to Nikolai. The lights of the infested cityand distant scattered fires shone back up at HUNK, reflecting off his scratched goggles. The rain remained a downpour, a torrent, but the gas fires would last for some time. There were sections of the hospital roof visible a story or more below, glass shards upon them... he rose the MP5 and scanned the rooftop with the laser sight and infrared scope, switching to night vision as well. To no avail. There was no sign there of the spy. He could have landed down there... though HUNK hoped he had missed, fallen out of sight and broke every bone in his body. He did not believe himself that fortunate, however.
"Fuck."
HUNK cursed under his breath, turning his eyes under the lenses towards the distant, damaged clock tower down the street... and thought of it's occupant in the chapel. They hadn't been gone too long, in all likelihood Valentine remained intact as well. Or as intact as she had been before their departure. He wasn't holding his breath on Nikolai being dead or badly maimed either. It was counting on too much. Until he saw the man's corpse, he would rule out nothing. Even if he had pieced together Valentine's condition, cunning, observant bastard that he was... he had no way of knowing she was at Saint Michael's Clock Tower. And if he went there, she would greet him with Matilda and that modified Beretta of hers. It wasn't worth worrying himself over, he knew... but it bothered him all the same. She could have passed out by now... and there would be no resisting Nikolai if he found her... or if Vladimir's other servant came back for her. He had to shake his head, force the image and concerning thought from his mind. It was out of his hands... he had an objective to complete.
HUNK didn't even bother raising his MP5 again to peer through the scope, instead turning again on the spot, and stepping from the window. He turned on the spot, and looked back down behind the cabinet the explosion had come from, surveying the severe damage to the backroom, the fires... and what else remained scattered all over the place. The force of the blast left the entire back room's walls cracked and broken along with the floor... pieces of each everywhere... it had even rocked the cabinet to the side, pushing it out of place, though it was a testament to how sturdy and fixed to the spot it had been that it hadn't fallen all the way over. It must have dampened the impact of the grenades a bit. Flames licked up along the books that weren't already burnt, and had begun to consume the various cardboard boxes and junk that had been kept back there. All through this, Carlos began to stir more, rising up on his knee. Not having a gas mask, he was coughing and gagging a bit at the billowing smoke, keeping his arm firmly over his mouth. Grip tightening on his weapon, HUNK turned his head slowly, and his low, muffled tone took charge once more, addressing the issue.
"Break the other windows Oliveira. Get some more fresh air circulating in here."
Carlos looked over to the farthest window, to the corner of the cabinet, to find HUNK standing there, as though he hadn't dived to cover, and had simply remained in his old spot before the explosion. The agent was staring at him intently, and the order helped jolt Carlos back to his senses, and rising back to his feet, he nodded simply and turned back to the windows, still coughing, and rose his modified assault rifle. Instead of firing, he drew back the reinforced butt and smashed it into the closest window to him, breaking through it and bringing in a welcome breath of air. He took the time to rip down the blinds and throw them to the ground, and did the same of each action to the other three windows. Although there was doubtlessly anything to combat a fire in the data room, they could at least vent out the smoke within the room, a good start. When he turned back in the direction of HUNK, the agent was no longer looking at him, rather down behind the cabinet Carlos had run from, staring at what remained out of the mercenary's sight. Carlos coughed a few more times, slinging his rifle at last, ignoring all the cuts gathering on his arms and pulling out his canteen, hand shaking a little against his will as he opened the cap, and took a drink to steady himself, watching the agent's still form.
"There's a fire then... how bad?"
"Nothing serious. The back room is gone. It'll burn out with nothing to spread to, once it has consumed what it is encircling."
"You sure?"
"Would you care to see the result for yourself?"
In his mind's eye, Carlos saw through HUNK's eyes, past the lenses of the gas mask. He saw a burnt uniform against melted flesh on a limbless torso being consumed, parts and innards scattered all over the floor with a pool of blood running everywhere, the fire still rolling over top of each. Scorching all the flesh and remains in its path. His friend's entrails... if there were any left. The thought alone was enough to make him take another sip, to force back the wave of nausea and horror. The air circulating through the room alone seemed to keep the stench of the flesh at bay... though imagining it, with how familiar he was with it by now, he still smelled it as though he were holding his nose over the remains. Even imagining it as he was, he knew it was far worse back there. He shivered against his will, feeling pale, and shook his head quickly, closing up and tucking back away his canteen hastily. He would rather remember Tyrell as he had known him, before, fighting at his side around Raccoon City, before their separation. Not as he had last seen him... the... remorse, perhaps, in his eyes, the blood everywhere. Nor did he want to see him as he was now. He had seen enough... more than enough.
"No. I really wouldn't. My imagination is vivid enough."
"Wise decision. Your first in this room."
"What do you...-"
"You know. I ordered you to get out of the way. Now your hesitation and inaction has allowed Nikolai to escape, and potentially hinder us further."
"What was I supposed to do? Shoot him down the second I saw him come back from the dead? He was a fellow mercenary, my superior, we fought together for days!", Carlos objected, stung, feeling a bitterness rising to the surface and making it's self known, fingerless gloved hand balling into a fist. It wasn't just that he was lashing out at HUNK... but the idea of what his fellow soldier had just attempted to do, to shoot him, had him on edge. How close he had been to death, staring down it's barrel, and had never expected it. It all might have been over in an instant He thought he had trusted Nikolai , who had proven himself and more at the train station. During the course of the operation. He had nearly gotten himself killed for said trust. Betrayed trust. "Both of them were. I thought he would rejoin us, help us with everything, make it easier. I didn't know he was going to kill... I didn't... no. This is on you, traitor or not... he was right about one thing. You didn't tell us who the fuck he was."
"It was irrelevant."
"Well it isn't now, damn it! And I wasn't the only one here who hesitated!"
No response came from the gas mask. The cracked and intact lenses merely studying Carlos, low breaths emerging from the mouthpiece. Seizing on to this silence, Carlos went on at once, indignation still coursing through him, along with the adrenaline from his brush with death.
"What the hell is a 'Supervisor' anyways? What the hell was he talking about?"
Carlos demanded loudly, heart beating quicker in his ears, allowing his anger to overwhelm his fear of the agent and strengthen his resolve... though not so much as to make a hostile move against him. Attempting that would be reaching madness... and in spite of feeling crazy, he was not yet there. He felt bewilderment over the Sergeant and Tyrell, and was still trying to get his head on straight. Trying not to throw up over the scent of his friend's burning flesh. All while looking back at his outraged, disheveled visage in the lenses of Umbrella's top assassin, enforcer, agent... jack of all trades, really. And yelling at him, for that matter.
"Look, I know you're the big shot here, the big boss, you are the law, not me. Lord Spencer, War and Countess Henri's golden boy. I know what you could do to me, if you wished, and that you would get away with it... but so long as I am here, I can't keep being left in the dark on everything! You could have told me!"
"Yes. I could have."
The U.S.S. Agent admitted calmly at last, nodding almost imperceptibly. He was silent for a moment, but Carlos broke it. Feeling very tired and bitter all at once.
"You just didn't want to, right? Not to some rookie mercenary puke... you U.S.S. Agents run circles around us. I get it."
"Didn't say that."
"Then what is a 'Supervisor'?"
There was a long silence between the two, in which Carlos drew an exasperated breath, shaking his head wearily. HUNK stared hard at the remains for a time longer, and at last turned on his boot in Carlos's direction, stepping back around the corner of the shelf and into the more intact part of the data room. He moved past Carlos, standing before the closed door of the room, facing away from Carlos for a few moments, before half turning again, looking back to the tired young man. For all his limitations and inexperience... the Corporal did have a point now and again, and did remind HUNK there was more at stake than the virus in his possession. Regardless of how much more important the G-Virus was. As he already knew, the mission had changed... and adaptability meant the continued brokering of trust in the presence of strangers. However uncomfortable it made him to do. He had done so with Valentine already... so why should it be harder and different with Oliveira, who had saved his life as surely as Valentine already had?
He wasn't sure... maybe it had something to do with her being a civilian, a cop, and of this city... but even that thought was full of holes. She was devoted to destroying Umbrella... mercenary or not, Oliveira was an employee, taking orders from the company, and had no such vendetta against his employers. At least at this time. The contradiction and hypocrisy gave him pause, and he considered it for a few moments. Maybe it was because, looking at the steadily battered and worn down rookie... he uncomfortably saw the face of a young man he had seen a long time before looking back at him in a mirror. Worn down further and changing before his very eyes, after each mission. Becoming someone... something else. Eyes growing older than he was. Unrecognizable. Though in his case... it had all been for War... in this young man's case? He was suffering for nothing... no cause that was his own. He had simply been in the wrong company at the wrong time. At last, he spoke up again, addressing the disheveled young man evenly, thinking back in time to his knowledge of them. Perhaps it was time he put a bit more trust in the young man... at least enough of it.
"A Supervisor is a Monitor agent for Colonel Vladimir. He came up with them. An internal investigation organization set up to watch the actions of lower tier employees. Not the same type of agents as Umbrella Security Service, each of us put into our own units as mission operatives, who answer to the Board Of Directors as a whole, the Inner Circle and company's President himself. You were a Communist guerrilla once, like Vladimir was a Soviet officer. Think the NKVD, or KGB... there among employees to subvert them for Vladimir's gain. Over the years Monitors have been placed by the Colonel in different sections of Umbrella's divisions to further his own personal agendas. Gain loyalty through threats. They are hand picked and put among the employees, including your own U.B.C.S. platoons. They are dispatched to directly collect data, dirty laundry for Vladimir to sift through, and whatever else he requires or wishes to make use of."
"If this is accomplished, the Monitor or Monitors are compensated well for it. While the others involved in the operation are kept in the dark. I've run into this before. The politics. I don't know what the operation is called this time around, I've been too busy with my own mission to think much of Nikolai's. After Valentine reported him dead, while I wasn't entirely sure it was true, I set it aside. As you know, far more important and pressing matters arose. In the end, it doesn't matter what it's called. It boils down to the same thing. It always does. I know Nikolai, how he and those like him operate. He'd have been killing off the other Monitors by now, stealing the data they've collected for themselves to end up the only one holding all the remaining cards. Profit the most from all this. It wouldn't surprise me if the man he shot back there was one of them. That he was pretending to work with the fellow Monitor until he outlived his usefulness. There is no loyalty, nor honor or accountability among them... nor does the company seem to care what they do. At least, not since...-"
Since she left. He nearly mentioned her, that she had stood up against the overreaching Monitor program, against Colonel Vladimir, nearly succeeded. At least until Lord Spencer had sided with the Colonel in the end... but HUNK restrained himself. Trailing off and remaining silent. Letting Oliveira mull over what he had told him. There was no sense telling him everything. He had what he needed to know. The general idea of how Umbrella really worked, separate of his own small part in the machine. Too much would just confuse him, or add more burden than there already was. And he had no further wish to allude to her, to this man. HUNK studied the young, disheveled man who was chewing it over, looking quite suddenly bitter about it all, understanding.
"They really are an evil corporation out of the movies, aren't they? Worse..."
Carlos's hollow voice replied at last, devoid now of all the bitterness that had lined it before. Now more than ever he felt and looked dead on his feet with exhaustion. Sickened by the implication of what Tyrell had been, all this time. What Colonel Vladimir had been doing, exploiting the situation... what the man he had thought was his superior officer had been doing on the Colonel's behalf. Suddenly it began to make a bit more sense... why he had gone off on his own so often. His extensive charting of the city. His cold, distant manner to the hell unfolding around him. Nikolai was right at home in this city. Like HUNK was. Colonel Vladimir had sent them all here to die, as combat data, save his precious Monitors who would collect it. It was even worse than Carlos had thought the truth was going to be.
"It was obvious from the zombies and bioweapons, of course... but doing that to their own employees... manipulating them into killing each other... it's fucked up. It all is. This whole thing is. We're all just pieces on a chessboard... little more."
"Yes. Some pieces more useful than others. All of us disposable. No different in the U.S.S. You recognized the man he shot, before he blew himself up."
"Yes... T. I mean, Corporal Tyrell Patrick. We worked together a few times, during all this. Tech guy... in our squad. Buddy of mine... him and Murphy. Met up now and again before all this. We kicked a bit of zombie ass and everything. He was my... friend. I... never would have thought he was a double agent. Profiting off all this crazy shit that way. Using us... me."
"Colonel Vladimir chooses his Monitors well. He would have had good reasons for selecting him."
"If you knew what Nikolai was... what he was going to do, why didn't you tell us?", Carlos asked quietly, pacing back and forth slightly on the spot in consideration, before looking back to the armored agent. "Why didn't you warn us this would happen... we could have done something earlier if...-"
"I... do not make a habit of placing all my secrets in the hands of others. What I know... is on a strictly need to know basis. It was my intent to use what he could provide us. Disloyal sociopath or not, Nikolai has talent, cunning, unpredictability and skill. That is why he remained alive where most others have not."
HUNK admitted tonelessly, making the factual statement with no bias. Nikolai's talent could not be underestimated. Even if he wasn't a U.S.S. Agent, and was one of the Colonel's thugs. He was damn good at what he did... among the best of the Monitors or U.B.C.S. Elites... if not the best. He heard the gossip of the other aboard the Leviathan, comparing the two of their records... arguing over which of them was better at what they did. One more part of the U.S.S. and U.B.C.S. feud he had begrudgingly found himself taking up for War after she had left. Trying to fill the void she had left behind. As if he ever could. The gossip used to be more about the feud between her and Vladimir... though after one conflict between two people invariably came another. Especially when he had gone to South Africa, him and Alpha Team commanded by Lord Spencer to work with Colonel Vladimir and his Elites containing the outbreak at Umbrella Plant 57 and the surrounding village there. Taking on a task War would have been in charge of, if she had remained. Taking her place as the Colonel's rival, as little as he had wished to be. One of them, anyways... the man had no shortage of enemies. Jaw tightening within the mask, he spoke calmly and evenly again.
"Former Spetsnaz. Was an old friend of the Colonel's, a subordinate, fought in Afghanistan together. Joined up with him when the USSR fell. Knew his reputation in the former Soviet Union. Myself and Valentine had just arrived at the train station, and I wanted to watch and see what information he would be forced to provide us. Use him as he used each of you... if nothing else, keep your allies close and enemies closer. Though to suggest he's really my enemy implies I give him more thought than required. It would have been better off for us all if he had died back there... but I did not assume him dead, nor shall I now, until I see his corpse. If he returns, he will be dealt with more permanently... and you will not get in the way if or when that happens."
"No... I won't. I'll be right at your side, gunning him down. Painting a wall with his brains. Though he deserves worse than that."
Carlos agreed absently, more out of necessity than wish, voice drained, and at last he looked away from the agent, and towards the corner his friend's remains lay around out of sight. As much as he tried keeping it out of his minds eye, he could not... but by now he felt too numb to puke over the smell of cooking flesh. He felt his self loathing and bitterness rising, not at HUNK anymore, he had lashed out at the agent, but now he felt only condemnations for himself. For his blunder... and rage for the cold, smug expressioned former Soviet, how close he had been to simply shooting Carlos through the head, after everything. Everything they had fought through and survived together downtown. The betrayal still felt raw. And would continue to.
"Hell, if anything I'll try beating you to it. That... son of a bitch was using us. Trying to find a way to get rid of us. He probably knew what would happen at the clock tower, and that's why he tried to fake his death and bug out. I can't say I always trusted him, before Raccoon City... there was always something strange about him, but when our backs were to the wall at the train station, securing it, he came through. I wasn't really... thinking then. About the bigger picture. I should have been, but I was just... I'm going to kill him. Next time we run into him... if there is a next time. I'm not letting that bastard escape again, and be out there causing more havoc. I can do it, I don't give a damn what or how powerful his reputation was back in the good old U.S.S.R. Spetsnaz my ass."
"You were focused on survival... as you still should be. A vendetta is useless and ego driven. Leave it in the past. If he is killed, it must be done emotionlessly, and to further the mission only. There is no room for pleasure in any of this, nor shall we deliberately seek him out. Unthinking vengeance will only court ruin. Do you understand?"
"Yeah... I do. And to tell you the truth?", Carlos started slowly , uttering a low breath and starting to stretch his arms and back on the spot, limbs popping a bit audibly. He let out another breath, before positioning himself upright again. "I really wish I didn't."
"Nor I, given the luxury. But luxuries are elusive... and fleeting. Like power, regardless of who wields it. Sometimes the more power you think you have, the more quickly it slips from your grasp. We have enough to deal with right now already. Remove vengeance from your mind."
"I'll... try to remember that."
Carlos replied, given brief pause by the wisdom behind the older man's words. He wasn't sure he entirely understood them... but nor did he intend to let them mean nothing. Regardless of his prior flare of anger at HUNK, it had all faded away into nothingness, and he felt genuine gratitude for the other, camaraderie, in some weird way. He doubted the feeling was reciprocated, but he was glad HUNK was there, keeping things in perspective. He felt himself coming down from the high of his anger towards Nikolai as well, regardless of the disgust he still felt for the worm posing as one of his comrades. He was right about revenge... as sweet as the taste was, they were taking enough risks as it were. Pursuing a vendetta was more likely to get them all killed. And their chances were bad enough.
"Thank you, Secret Agent Man. So... what happens now, then?"
"I need to consult with my U.S.S. contacts about this. As for you, you are commanded to search this room.", HUNK's deep, muffled tone informed him calmly and simply. Looking at last from the young Corporal, and in the direction of the very back end of the room past the desk. Gesturing a gloved hand to the visible jars and microscope beyond the tall backed leather rolling chair. He looked back to the mercenary, and continued. "There could be more equipment we might use. This time, you have my permission to scavenge, for you will be under my sight, not running off on your own to do it."
"Hey man, I learned my lesson already, it won't happen again. No need to rub it in.", Carlos threw up a defensive hand, but managed a weak, humorless chuckle. His glazed eyes tracked the direction of HUNK's hand, and he couldn't deny that he was very much interested in finding out what lay in the back room, all the equipment there. Just what the hell the hospital needed this data room for. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but Carlos was no cat, and he wanted to dig up what he could... not just overhear things. "Much as I'd like to hear some of your secrets, or whatever you're talking about, I'd be the unnecessary third wheel. So, why don't we each just stick to what we're best at. You and your secrets... and neck breaking... and ass kicking... and well, most things. Me with my scavenging. Sound good?"
"Indeed. Get to it, then we move again."
"Sir yes sir."
Carlos snapped off another brief salute to the agent, though with far less energy, and rifle still slung, he turned from where HUNK stood in front of the desk, stepping past it and the various filing cabinets, over the papers, burnt and tattered spilled across the marble floor. The further he moved down towards the back room, kicking aside fallen files, the worse the smell of smoke got, and he rose an arm over his mouth and nose again. The outside air circulating made it bearable, but irritating. Nevertheless, he'd do and go through whatever he needed to. Somehow, his mind was able to turn from the horror that had just unfolded in the data room, the loss of his friend... the looming danger Nikolai presented, the anger he felt towards the bastard, and back to the mission they had set out upon. It was easier, when he thought of Jill... how much she was counting on them to make it, and to succeed. Even the Tyrant didn't stick to the forefront of his fears, and his thoughts... it's presence far more lurking in the background. It would return to being his primary fear at some point, that much was obvious... but for now, the thought of Jill made things simpler, and he savored the respite it offered... if a little guiltily. Though thinking of Jill... another curious, troubling thought struck him then... and he gave voice to it with hesitation, lingering where he was a bit longer, looking back the armored agent's way.
"Uh... sir, there was one other thing, if I can ask."
"What?"
"Was Nikolai telling the truth about the vaccine... already having it stored somewhere else? Or was he full of shit?"
"The latter, most likely. Cut from the same cloth as the Colonel. He deals in lies."
"Figured as much. Though... you hesitated all the same, didn't you?"
"So I did. Will endeavor not to make the same mistake. Now go. You have your orders."
The agent's clipped tone gave little to nothing away, and brooked no further discussion on the matter... but some instinct of Carlos's gave him an inkling. HUNK hadn't hesitated over fear... at least not of Nikolai. He had hesitated over Jill... on the off chance Nikolai had been telling the truth. On the off chance he had been telling the truth... it had stayed his hand... the hand of a man with an untold amount of blood on it already. Who he didn't doubt had wanted nothing more than to empty an entire magazine into Nikolai... from having past dealings with him. Instead this was another exception he had made... just for her. With that curious realization in mind, puzzling it over, he smiled a bit grimly at the U.S.S. Agent, nodding and moving on. Carrying out his orders... though still pondering it further as he did so.
HUNK watched the Corporal leave, for no more than a couple moments as Carlos reached the back room, his back to him, and began to idly, yet with some visible interest, survey the area. Then, the agent turned again in the direction of the blown open windows, unable to feel the cool breeze rolling over the room, but able to watch the smoke vanish outside of it. Listening to the downpour of the rain slamming against the hospital, dripping off the broken sections of the side of the hospital, puddles already flowing on the floor. From the corner of his eye, he noted a few other puddles... of blood smearing and trickling around the corner from behind the near destroyed shelf, and the image of 'Tyrell' returned. Both the glimpse of him when he had been alive, expression a mixture of rage towards Nikolai , and fear... as well as the image he had chosen to leave behind in death.
The agent had witnessed the same bodily dismemberment done to men and women before... including the stepping on a landmine, or being blown apart by rocket launchers. Had inflicted it on the enemy. Yet the disembodiment the grenade in his hand and ones in his belt had caused, he would probably remember as well. A cornered man, or most likely a cornered rat if his suspicions of his Monitor status were accurate, choosing a self destructive way out that had nearly killed them all with him. A coward's way out. There had been no dog tags left to recover and examine for a name confirmation... if indeed he had even been wearing them. Nikolai was not the only insufferable Monitor... at least they were probably all killing one another now, the ones that yet lived. Each competing to gather the most data... if he knew them right. And for how long he had, he was certain he was right. They would do the work for him... killing any more of them would probably be unnecessary, as welcome as such an objective would have been. Nikolai was still out there and alive, though. He was certain of that now. If there would be a final Monitor standing in the city, it was going to be him. As little as he wished it to be so. He had to be realistic. And return to his duty.
HUNK rose a hand to his mask, activating the communication channel he was connected to, and patching in. Choosing the frequency for NIGHTHAWK, hearing the faint scratchy static in his ears, he rose his voice, yet it remained entirely cool, collected and punctual over the line. Watching the lights of the ruined, rain soaked city beyond the windows, ignoring the faint moans echoing, and the sounds of Oliveira rummaging around at the other side of the room.
"NIGHTHAWK, this is HUNK. We've made it to the hospital. Check in, over."
"This is NIGHTHAWK.", The low, familiar tone over the line intoned after a brief pause, filling the channel in his ears. As it often was, it was good to hear from the outside again, especially as the mission worsened. Kept taking turns in the wrong direction. "You're making good time. What's the situation at the hospital?"
"Light resistance on the part of the infected... at least on the path we took up. I have reason to suspect for the most part they've been barricaded on different levels. By the former survivors that occupied or passed through this place. Your satellite imaging scan of the outside was correct, the horde is not in the area at this time, held up by makeshift blockades of vehicles around the area."
"Spencer's pride and joy. Well, one of them. Nothing but the best from the company, where technology is concerned."
"Indeed. We made our way inside, and discovered the bodies of some military personnel in the main lobby. It's a mess, all of them K.I.A. Most of them shot dead by rifle rounds. Encountered a couple Hunter Beta Types that Oliveira made quick work of. There are likely more B.O.W.'s and mutations in the vicinity, but we've yet to cross paths with them. The soldiers were well armed and in full uniform and armor... but lacking insignia, and their dog tags were gone. I have reason to suspect the involvement of the U.S. Military, as you warned me, possibly a special forces branch. Whether they're Simmons men or another's, it isn't good. I'm sure we are of the same mind in that regard."
"Yes, we are... even if we can't yet prove it. They're probably attempting to recover evidence for the future trial, then. Bioweapons material as well, for their programs. The standing orders of any Umbrella personnel remaining in Raccoon City, at the behest of Colonel Vladimir, is that any such military personnel within Raccoon City are to be eliminated on sight. They cannot be allowed to make off with evidence, one of the reasons he is dropping more Tyrants and B.O.W.'s within the city. The irony of that is of course entirely mind bending, dropping them fresh evidence and bioweapons. But that's his problem to deal with, not yours. You are to continue to avoid them, where possible. Though if absolutely necessary, U.S.S. Command will grant you the green light to engage. Not that you will need it, with Lord Spencer and Director Henri's authority. I have little doubt any government special forces will try to capture or eliminate you, if they find out who you serve... not that you would tell them. Though as ever, as it was from the start, the sample remains the priority. Not making contact with government forces. Risking it falling into their hands. They already know about the virus, and the uniforms of U.S.S. Agents."
"No living government soldiers have been encountered yet. If they are fortunate, it will stay that way. Do you think Colonel Trautmann is commanding these little expeditions of the U.S. Military into the hot zone?"
"Doesn't seem likely, does it? He has his hands full maintaining the Quarantine Zone as is... it's possible, but more likely someone who isn't military would be commanding such a venture. As I said, Simmons, most likely, or another with his ambitions. It's clearly to suit the government's interests, and cover it's own ass by recovering evidence. It's going to have to justify the use of a high ordnance device being dropped on a U.S. city. I doubt they'll fare much better than Umbrella in the end."
"Anyone and everything between us and escape will be eliminated. Rest assured. The mission has already hit enough snags to slow it down without the government's involvement... including another one minutes ago."
"What happened?"
"Nikolai, of course. Nikolai happened."
"You're kidding... well, of course you're not. The son of a bitch is still alive?"
"And doing just fine. Having the time of his life own here. Oliveira and I came across him in the data room on the fourth floor, speaking to, and attempting to execute a fellow U.B.C.S. operative. I have reason to suspect the man in question was a fellow Monitor. Took him out to steal his data. We had a stand off, and although we believed the operative dead, he survived being shot long enough to trigger a grenade. We ran for it, but before I could shoot Nikolai, he jumped out the window as the grenade went off. Didn't see his body, so have no reason to suspect he did not survive the fall. I am taking no chances. He is operating in this area, knows about the vaccine and other data here... and as a Monitor, is undoubtedly out to hinder my progress. Perhaps acquire the G-Virus sample, provided he even knows I carry it. If he did, he would have come after me much earlier."
"That he would have... I see. It's getting worse down there. Last thing you need is that bastard on your tail as well. Is there anything you would you like me to do about it?"
"Have our contacts in the Umbrella Intelligence Division access and check the U.B.C.S. databanks for an employee named Tyrell Patrick, and pull up everything you can on him. He was the Monitor Nikolai was so intent on killing. Furthermore, I want you to use our U.S.S. resources to uncover the names of the other Monitors on this operation, the name of the operation, objectives and anything else. I want to know what I am getting into with them interfering with this operation. I intend to remain well informed. We would be well within our rights, given our own mission takes top priority over whoever is so set on recovering combat data. We serve Lord Spencer, and the entirety of the company's board. Not a lone interest. Not even Colonel Vladimir. Furthermore, I want to know any and all possible objectives Nikolai has, if possible. Where he's been, who he has killed, and where he is going next. His targets. Are we clear?"
"Perfectly. I know the drill, I'll get what I can from the Umbrella Intelligence Division and let you know what I find as I find it. Best I put Alex on it. She's bailed us communication boys out of a few tight spots like this one. Always well informed and works fast. We have full access anyways, especially for this operation. The Board will not question it, after Director Henri's friendly little reminder, nor will Colonel Vladimir have the power to countermand it without revealing himself further, exposing his activities and ambitions for all."
"Precisely my thinking. Catch the bastard between a rock and a hard place awhile. Return the favor."
"Been around long enough to know how you think, Mr Reaper. I'll pass along Alex your request and gratitude for you, in that case."
"You do that. We've still got work to do down here, and aren't even close to the end. Though we are near to recovering the Vaccine Base. It is close by."
"No sign of your Tyrant Pursuer still, then?"
HUNK's eyes behind the lenses moved slowly about the cluttered data room, first to the back room where Carlos was rummaging around, then back out to the windows again, to the rain soaked city sprawled below. Although tempted to go to the window again for a better look, he was not so much of a fool to do so once more, and present himself as a target to either of the pursuers following them... or any other they had yet to run into. This was a war zone, and snipers were a possibility, regardless of how unlikely. The chaos had died down... but there were still people out there. It was out there. Coming for them, for Valentine especially. He had to admit, where the Pursuer was concerned... he did not believe he had ever faced such a challenge... of which there had been many. It was out there alright, somewhere. Looking for them... or lying in wait for them. Recovering from its injuries. Mutating, perhaps... free of its restraining coat. The very last thing they needed... a form potentially more powerful than the last. At last he spoke up again just as calmly, as though he hadn't paused.
"Negative. If I had the luxury of wishing for things, it would be that the Tyrant will be of no further consequence. Unfortunately, Nikolai 's return is a reminder of reality. If he survived, it must have too, somehow and somewhere. I do not know when and where it will strike, but I expect it to. This... experiment, thing, whatever series it belongs to... the it was made it too well. I'll deal with its creators when this is over, somehow."
"Understood. In the meantime, keep your eyes out down there, and I'll do the same from up here. I'll contact U.I.D. and get you the reports and information as soon as possible. You'll get what you need. Have my word on it."
"Affirmative. Appreciated. Keep up the good work NIGHTHAWK, and get back to me ASAP as the information comes in. I have to keep moving. Agent HUNK, over and out."
Not pausing to wait for any response from him, HUNK shut off the communication channel, remaining where he was a little longer. Finding himself contemplative. He tilted his head a bit, cracking his neck, and uttering a low breath. His eyes went back to the puddle of blood leaking around the corner. The brush with death had merely been one more. The mission had not changed, regardless of how often it already had. Those were merely details. He lived, and he was close to his objectives, and the sooner he got to them, the sooner he could get the hell out of this particular place. There was something he would consider unsettling about this place, were he a weaker man... little different from Birkin's NEST. Perhaps worse in certain regards, considering the testing the scientists had been doing so close under the nose of the hospital, and so close to a ready supply of unknowing patients.
Whereas at least Birkin had the good sense to keep his labs deep underground, not up in the actual hospital. Just begging to be exposed to the rest of the world, whatever precautions had been taken. He had little doubt it had been chosen for just that reason... steady access for test subjects. He had little to no respect for most of the Umbrella scientists he had met, and these ones in question were probably no different. They were nastily manipulative, little different from bureaucrats sitting behind a desk while others did all their work for them. They had likely more than deserved what they had gotten, the ones aware of Umbrella's presence... at least the ones who had not been evacuated. It seemed probable some of them had survived, being too valuable to the higher up. He hoped none of them had been evacuated. The consequences of their actions here finally catching up with them. Doctor Radames had been right about Bard and his ilk, he was already certain.
Based on the notes Valentine had recovered, that he had read, it was clear the work being done at the hospital was important. The staff focusing on it above all. The only thing he could say for them was that at least they had come up with a vaccine he could make use of. For the moment, little else mattered. He could ponder their repugnant actions later. Still, for all their apparent intellect, so often their type were lacking it where it would prove more necessary. Turning on the spot, he looked away from the pool of Tyrell's blood, the ruined surroundings in the wake of the explosion, and back to the main closed metal door of the data room. His mind drifted back to the confrontation... pleased the Umbrella Intelligence Division was on it already. Gathering the information he sought.
He thought of Alex... again of how little he knew of her, and how much she must have known about him. Based on her talents at what she did, information gathering, he had the feeling she knew him as well as Bella had. If not more so. For all he knew she was working for Bella, keeping tabs on him for her, reporting back to her. Or more likely he just hoped that she was. He didn't even know her last name... classified, most likely, like most details of the spooks working in the U.I.D. "Alex" almost certainly wasn't even her real name, no more than "Ada" was to a certain corporate spy in a red dress he'd... worked with in Bosnia. It was probably just what she insisted everyone call her. Her own sort of codename. They had corresponded, though, and continued to periodically. He had never met her in person, nor seen a photo... but something told him she was blonde, physically attractive, older than him but younger than Bella. She was professional and courteous... not flirtatious like Doctor Radames, though unless he was mistaken there was an interest there... on her part. And most likely nothing unprofessional... merely an interest in his work, his missions. Wanting to keep well informed on them... like an all seeing eye and mind desiring more. She was capable, impressive, and the best at what she did. Keeping more secrets than even he did. It was little wonder they shared a mutual respect, and had aided one another. Of all the other branches of the company apart from the U.S.S., it was the U.I.D. he respected the most.
He was at last pulled from his contemplation when the Corporal's voice spoke up from down where he was, then, cautiously.
"Uh... HUNK? If you're done, you might want to come down here and see this."
At HUNK's clipped reminder of his orders, following the nod, Carlos turned again and continued forward down towards the back room, still considering everything that had taken place. Nikolai 's gun in his face. HUNK's hesitation and lack of trust. The smell of scorched flesh. And as pressing as all that was, as much as it would recur and give him much to consider, it was all instantly, albeit momentarily wiped from his mind, in comparison to what awaited him in the back room. What made him pause... and slowly step inside past a couple cabinets, eyes swiveling over the area. Distantly, he could hear a mumble of HUNK's muffled tone, consulting over the radio behind him, but none of the details mattered to him, his attention fixated on what his eyes were.
They settled on the large, leather rolling chair turned away from him, facing the desk. Carlos moved down towards it at last, gradually... and froze behind it. Someone was sitting in it, he saw the very top of the man's white haired head. Hand settling on the side of the chair, he slowly turned it around on the spot. Lips parting at the unpleasant sight that greeted him, taking a step backwards, his rifle rising a bit instinctively.
"Oh shit..."
A fresh dead body resided within the chair, pressed back against it. An old man, dressed in a long white lab coat, it, his white hair and dark pants heavily stained with blood. It still trickled and flowed down his face, eyes wide open and staring back at Carlos in pained horror. A single bullet hole resided in the center of his head, the blood thick in the seat beneath him and his lap, the chair smeared. The parts of his face that weren't bloodied were deeply bruised. His arms had been strapped to either side of the arm rests by medical restraints. Hands covered in fresh, dripping blood as well. All ten of the fingernails messily torn out of his wrinkled hands. Gradually, Carlos looked down to the plastic encased identification card pinned to the lapel of his coat. Spotting the man's bitter looking but quite alive face on the card... and a familiar name written upon it.
Doctor Nathaniel William Bard.
"Damn... might have been an asshole, but rest in peace, brother. And you too, Tyrell. Whatever else... you really were. Hope you're both better off... where you are now."
Bard... the vaccine's creator. From the document HUNK had let him read, and his voice upon the tape he carried. The man who had seemed to be developing a conscience along with the vaccine, had wanted to make it available to the public. A man who had done good and evil. But at the end... had sought to do some good. He didn't need to be a detective to figure out what had happened, and who had done it to the poor old man. Carlos shook his head grimly, removing his cross necklace and kissing the crucifix, murmuring a quiet prayer for the old man and for the man who had probably helped torture him. Tyrell. Tyrell had fought beside him... had saved Carlos's life, at the end of his own. That had to tip the scales of good and evil in some way... or at least balance them. He prayed for their souls... the good and evil they had done would be judged accordingly and fairly. As all would be, in the end. When he was done, he bowed his head solemnly. Then he closed the old man's eyes carefully, and forced his gaze away from the mutilated corpse, wondering what it said about him that he was so used to keeping the dead company.
There was a fair amount of equipment, electrical in nature mounted up on the wall, plentiful in the way of cords and tubes running together of various thick sizes. There was a red and green light mounted up to one of the device's, the red glow activated and the green shut off... whatever it was signalling, he wasn't sure. Immediately facing him, up against the wall, was a long row containing the jars of liquid and microscopes he had seen in the distance, the details more sharp. Some of the jars contained lids of different colors, with some jars larger than the others, some containing clear liquid, others murky and dark. This work area only drew in a sliver of his focus, noting little of any overt interest, in comparison to what was off to his immediate right, connected to the wall's corner.
What lay there, into which several long cords powered it from a small generator, was a wide, clear freezer of sorts, or cool temperatured fridge to keep the interior in sterile conditions. Within it contained a number of jars similar to the others, though larger and alongside these, however, were some larger rectangular containers as well. Each of the jars, some set on their side and some standing, and the containers were full of a clear green liquid he could see through.
Or rather, could see through were it not for the contents. Within each... something shrunken, organic and grotesque was visible to his widened eyes... and slowly he stepped over for a closer look, though not going so far as to press his face near the glass. Some of the liquids had bubbles rising in them... it was a formalin of sorts, containing unknown creatures. Experiments... resembling a distorted, mutated series of fetuses. Each one, although some suspended in the fluid, didn't move in the least... perhaps dead failures, or designed to be what they were, mere experiments leading to something far more dangerous as an end result. Just what in the hell Umbrella had been working on here, Carlos didn't know or really want to know, face twisting with disgust... but like a train wreck it was difficult to look away.
It was one thing to be fighting zombies, mutations and the like... but standing here, looking at otherworldly creatures so small and helpless, not fighting him... things he could clearly see had been designed... he shivered, grip tightening on his shoulder strap. It was unnerving. Like he'd stepped into Frankenstein, Doctor Phibes or Herbert West's lab. Even if this lab was smaller, and less dramatic than one in a horror movie or book... it was no less disconcerting. No... it was more so... this small area was a place someone had sat at every day, looking at fucked up samples like these, and simply writing notes on twisted experiments. Seeing things that few others in the world had, treating it like just another day at the office. In the middle of a general hospital. In the middle of a fully populated city. While there were patients in the same hospital, being operated on, stitched up, limbs fixed... a company was running T-Virus research and genetic modification on another floor. What would happen if they needed a live patient to test on? Would they scrounge one up from the floor below? Or bring them in with that purpose in mind, testing upon them? Were these... lumpy and misshapen things taken from the wombs of mothers?
He was unnerved to find, part of him actually did want to know, if only to know the worst... it was the unknown that scared him. He was tempted to set fire to this back room lab... hell, the whole data room for that matter just to be sure things like this couldn't exist. But they did exist... and taking the time to destroy them wasn't realistic. They would be in time... even if not soon enough. What the hell was wrong with the world? Or rather the people in it? The people deep in Umbrella. He could barely take his eyes off the small abominations... but necessity called. Gradually he looked back down to the work table the microscopes and other jars sat upon, and noticed a red folder with a bunch of loose leaf papers and reports jammed in, some of the papers poking out the side. Directly beside it was a key, that he took at once and glanced at the inscription on it.
Sickroom Key- 402.
Yet he paid far more attention to something that sat on the top of the folder... a photograph, and he picked up slowly, eyes adjusting in the light to what was presented to him. Four zombies in various states of decomposition, mouths open mid moan, were walking towards the camera hungrily. The lead zombie was close to the camera, a former young man with dark hair, splattered in blood all over his t-shirt. Close behind him was a black man, a blonde woman, and in the back another young man whose details were hard to make out. He stared at the picture for some time, wondering who had been stupid, and brave enough, to be snapping pictures of the zombies during the middle of all this. Probably some journalist who had at least covered wars before. Carlos turned it over, to find words written on the backside.
Photo D: The Effect of the T-Virus.
Well... obvious as their sinister work here was, it was further proof they had been researching the virus and its properties here. Even during the middle of the outbreak, up to the final days of Raccoon City. As it had all come apart around them. He tucked away the photograph into his backpack, and turned his attention back to the files, scooping them up, fully intending to read them right then and there. Starting with an envelope and letter in it that he carefully looked over, reading to himself silently.
Dear Dr. Bard,
It is my pleasure to cordially invite you to a banquet on Sept. 10 at the Central Hotel, where we will be exchanging viewpoints on Raccoon City's new Special Medical Zone (SMZ). Attending will be Mayor Michael Warren, Chief of Police Brian Irons, and other distinguished members of our community.
Thursday, September 10, 1998 - 6:00 p.m.
The Orient Restaurant
The Central Hotel, Second Floor
We would be honored if you joined us.
Sincerely,
Greg Tester, United States Senator
P.S. Nate, I'll be introducing the bill for that new drug of yours in mid-August. Bring the cash. We've booked a suite for the usual afterparty. You're a brunette guy, right? I'll let Irons know.
Carlos uttered a low whistle. Quite the impressive roster of company he'd been keeping under the table, in life outside the hospital and lab. Looked like he had connections and then some. And took full advantage of them. Carlos glanced back at the dead, mutilated doctor for a moment. His eyes fell down to the old man's torn up fingers... spotting the wedding band on the correct finger. He was proven right yet again. Everyone had good and evil in them... looked like he'd found some more of the latter.
"Well, well, well. You dirty old bastard. In more ways than one. Went out with a bang, at least. Also in more ways than one."
The Corporal laughed a bit morbidly at that observation under his breath, shaking his head and scratching his stubble lined cheek. If he didn't laugh, he would surely go mad from his increasingly insane surroundings. He turned his attention to the computer at the desk, moving the mouse, which brought the screen back on. Revealing an open email in the 'sent' section that someone had been reading earlier when the monitor had been on standby. He began to silently read it as he had the note.
To: Senator Greg Tester
Subject: REPLY IMMEDIATELY
Greg, I know you're watching the news. This virus is going to devour the whole country. The dead will wash over Capitol Hill like a tidal wave. You're not safe. However, you've always been a good friend to me, so I'd like to offer you a way out.
I have in my possession ONE dose of a vaccine for the virus. The holy grail! And it's not for my family, not for my ladies on the side. No, Greg, I'm saving it for YOU. I know better than anyone that you're the future of the United States. But if you want the goods, Greg, you have got to get me the hell out of here NOW, without Umbrella finding out.
Lean on the Pentagon for me. I know you've got the clout. See if someone can get a rescue team in here without U.B.C.S. involvement. You scratch my back, I scratch yours—which should sound pretty chaste after the parties we've been to. Hurry. My time is running out.
—Nate
"Well... on the other hand... maybe you did deserve this after all."
Carlos grimaced, looking back at the corpse again and shaking his head. The dirty old bastard was planning on cutting and running after all. From his own family too. Had Umbrella out for him, despite his working for them. The email to the corrupt Senator hadn't done much for him in the end, it seemed. Umbrella had gotten to him first, and cut his contract with them short... no doubt the reward for his betrayal and ambitions. Such as it was with corporate and government warfare. Had Senator Tester come through, and sent in the dead special forces team downstairs to retrieve Bard and the vaccine? Had Nikolai or the other Monitors taken them out? Or had Tester left his old scientist party buddy for dead while he covered his own ass from the political fallout of Raccoon City? Carlos wasn't sure, one seemed as likely as the other. Again the scales of morality tipped further against the sick old scientist, between the incriminating letters and jars. He was almost afraid to look through more of his dirty laundry... but perversely curious as well. Yet before he could read the next email documents or the documents he had recovered, just then he heard HUNK's muffled voice falling silent... instead a higher priority took over. He gave HUNK a time to come down to him, but when the man remained where he was out of sight, glancing between Bard and down to where HUNK was out of sight, Carlos spoke up again, calling down his way.
"Uh... HUNK? If you're done, you might want to come down here and see this."
With the bustling of boots, HUNK quickly emerged into view in nearly an instant and marched down to join him. Stopping for a moment when Carlos stepped out of the way of the rolling chair, turning it a bit for him to see the corpse that sat in it. The Umbrella Agent was silent for a moment, before starting forward again, coming to a stop in front of the corpse and Carlos. Leaning in slightly to examine him, gloved hand examining the bruises and wounds, before removing the identification card on his blood stained lab coat. As well as taking note of the medical restraints binding his wrists to each of the sliding chair's arm rests. Nodding very slightly to himself. Low tone betraying nothing, entirely unphased by the sight of the mutilated, murdered scientist.
"Hmm. Bard. Nikolai has been busy. Know his handiwork. Carries his own kit. Interrogated and shot him. Him and Tyrell were likely working together on this."
"He knows about the vaccine too. Admitted it. Knew, anyways. No way he survived that drop."
"His status is irrelevant. Since he knows, Vladimir knows. This was merely some tying up of loose ends. Gaining whatever else Bard knew. Doubt he took much to the grave with him. Degenerate old bastard got off easy."
"If this is 'easy', I'd hate to see getting off the hard way. Probably not the only ones who knew about the vaccine testing.", Carlos observed with a weary smirk, reaching for the banquet invitation and passing off the envelope and letter to the agent. Eyes flickering between it and HUNK as the agent took it and began to read silently. "Looks like the old timer was keeping quite the company. Friends in high places. Don't be so hard on him, the two of you at least had similar tastes in women."
Reaching the end of the letter, HUNK's head snapped up again in the Corporal's direction sharply. Somehow, Carlos saw the silent glare in HUNK's steely eyes, even beneath the mask. Yet didn't find himself especially perturbed, chuckling under his breath slightly.
"For what it's worth, she probably has a thing for blondes. Digs the whole Stargate Colonel O'Neil brooding look. Only reason I can think of that she passed me up for you. Assuming she's even seen you outside all that getup, yet."
The U.S.S. Agent said nothing, nor broke his silent stare, and Carlos laughed again slightly, holding up his hands in a mock 'don't shoot me' gesture.
"Hey, don't be looking at me like that, man. Save the long, heavy, romantic shared gazes for Jill. You didn't think those lenses hid everything, did you?"
Carlos merely smiled defiantly, daring the agent to contradict him. He didn't. Instead he rose again away from the doctor, slipping the identification card and banquet letter and envelope into one of his pouches. He glanced at Carlos a moment, and then over his shoulder to the email open on Bard's screen. He pushed past Carlos without a word and leaned in a bit, reading it in silence... looking between it and the hard drive. Rapidly he activated the safety on his submachine gun, letting go of it and letting it hang from its strap and against his body armor. Then he reached into one of his pouches and produced something, inserting it into the hard drive. A portable flash drive device, Carlos realized with surprise, a hell of a piece of high tech... and just as rapidly the agent began copying documents from the system's hard drive to the device, handling the computer expertly, knowing what he was doing. Carlos watched, intrigued, as the secret agent did what secret agents did. He should have expected as much, information gathering, given his background... but still it was strange seeing him carrying out a mission objective that didn't involve killing people.
A few minutes passed before he was done, and as if he'd never stopped, HUNK removed the device from the computer and tucked it back away in the same pouch securely. Then he suddenly began to take up the modified shotgun in both hands, raising the stock to his shoulder, leveling it at the hard drive, before pulling the trigger. The roar echoed through entire data room, bringing pain to Carlos's ears and making him wince, before he could raise his hands to cover his ears. The high powered round blew the hard drive to smoking pieces in an instant... and HUNK was already flipping on the safety of the shotgun again and slinging it across his back again. Rapidly he took up the MP5 in both hands, before turning on the spot and marching back down the data room abruptly, passing Bard's corpse without so much as a glance at it or backwards at Carlos. Still recovering from the assault on his ringing eardrums, wincing.
"Christ, 007, you gotta warn me to plug my ears when you use that thing!"
"Oliveira. We are leaving."
"Wait a minute... shit...-"
With no time to read the other documents then, as he had been able to with the photo and invitation, Carlos took the files and put them carefully into his backpack. If he was going to survive this, information would prove a hell of a commodity. HUNK knew it too, clearly, gathering the data that he had. Just as Nikolai and Tyrell had been doing before they burst in on the two 'Monitors'. Did that make him like Nikolai and the other 'Monitors', or even like an agent like HUNK? Not in the least... this was just stuff he had happened to come across in their escape from Raccoon City. He was not deliberately scrounging up this stuff, or shooting others for it. Still, he was no idiot... this stuff would be important when the smoke settled, somehow to someone. Incriminating... considering it went as high as a Senator at the very least. If he had it his way, they never would have come across Umbrella experiments and labs to begin with. As it was, it had been unavoidable, and he would take what little he could get from the situation. Make the most of it.
With it safely stored away, rifle still slung, Carlos took one last grim look at the jars, the experiments, and Doctor Bard's mutilated, dripping corpse. Sighing under his breath. Then he turned, running out of the back room and into the front of the data room in time to glimpse HUNK step through the metal door and back out into the fourth floor corridor. Moving quickly over the spilled papers in the way, blocking out the sight of the blood trail leaking around the corner where he had nearly been killed, the devastated remains, Carlos followed after HUNK right out of the data room, stepping into the hall and closing the door behind them, sealing out the combined cool wind and fresh air, and smoke the explosion had caused. Silently bidding Tyrell farewell again, and forcing himself to focus back on the mission. There was nothing more he could do here... but keep going. Trying to survive. As Tyrell had made possible. He would not squander the man's final gift.
Standing at HUNK's side in the silent hall, close to the weakened, damaged wall behind them at the end of the hall they were on, HUNK didn't even glance back at the young man. Rather taking point again, moving carefully down the corridor towards the trolley covered in medical supplies dividing the two sections of the hall. Carlos unslung his rifle, keeping it at the ready as the red laser sight of HUNK's submachine gun scanned the area. Reaching the trolley, passing quick enough, the two of them stepped past a fire alarm on the wall close to the trolley, and each turned, looking down the adjacent corridor containing Room 401 and 402. They started forward again, but all of a sudden HUNK froze, giving the gesture for Carlos to do the same, which he obeyed at once, glancing between HUNK and the door to Room 401 speculatively. HUNK himself was looking between the doors of 402 and 401, though seemingly paying more attention to the latter.
"What's the...-"
"Listen."
Carlos hesitated, but obeyed, leaning forward with his boots crunching on some spilled glass shards, carefully pealing his ears for anything... and there beneath the silence was something... low, barely audible, but there. Nothing he had heard before. It was not growling, or a moan...nor voices or footsteps. It wasn't even the sound of a left on televisions or static. It was a squirming... wet pulpy sounds, moving over the floor, that made Carlos's eyes widen a bit in confusion. HUNK looked back to him over his shoulder... and slowly lowered his MP5, rising tall, and turning on his boot in the direction of the startled mercenary. Inclining the battle scared helmet his way.
"You're up, Oliveira. If it is what I believe, you need to see for yourself what Valentine and I already have. In case it comes back."
"What the hell are you talking about? The Tyrant?", It was the only thing Carlos could think of that would be squirming, with its tentacles. Even then, he couldn't quite place such a sound being associated to the lumbering monster. "Because last time I checked I saw the damn thing's tentacles up close, closer than I wanted...-"
"Were it the Tyrant, it would already be bearing down upon us. Would have ripped down that door. The Tyrant was created intentionally. To think. To perform a mission. These things were not. You remember the letter Doctor Bard wrote. The hospital is connected to the infested sewer system. I should have anticipated this sooner. Now, go ahead."
A chill ran along Carlos's spine that he could not shake... something in HUNK's voice and manner... the knowing manner of whatever it was that awaited him. The resoluteness that he needed to see it and know. Despite his burning ever present curiosity, Carlos did not want to know... probably more than he hadn't wanted to see what was left of Tyrell... but in that case, he had been given a choice, here and now, the red lenses of the masked agent stared hard at him, and did not waver. There was no way around it, as much as he wished to argue against it.
"Rookie expendability, huh? Just my luck."
Sighing, Carlos stepped past HUNK, and in front of the door, staring at it for a time, then glancing back to the armored agent, who nodded right back at him. Looking ahead, Carlos stepped forward, rifle at the ready, grasped the door handle and pushed it open, standing in the doorway raising the rifle to his shoulder... and taking in a view in the entirely illuminated hospital room that would follow him to the grave. For an instant, taking in the room before the horror registered, on first glance it looked like any other hospital room. A little cluttered, but then most could end up like that with the prolonged stay of a patient. There was a sink on the wall, a chair pulled up beside the bed against the left hand side of the room... various machines, medical equipment like an IV and heart monitor hooked up. A window at the far end with the blinds draped. Medical related posters... a calendar, a bedside table with an untouched meal on the top of it... it could have been any hospital room in state.
All except the blood soaked doctor in a lab coat laying in the corner next to the door, with a trail of his drying blood leading further into the room toward the bed. Before the bed stood a portable video camera left on a tripod... aiming down in it's direction, a direction his eyes followed. Where the true unparalleled repugnance the room held awaited. The patient, a former man, dead yet not dead, lay in the bed, struggling against the various medical restraints that had been fastened and left connected to it. Where it had been left to rot. At some point, its midsection had erupted, caved in, and entrails and gore were splattered about the blankets of its moving torso... and even then it blinked, and attempted to moan, its moans cut off by a gag. A scent of all manner of foulness, the rot of decay and death greeted him then, wrinkling his nose. Yet... its entrails moved, in a manner that had nothing to do with its attempts to rise. There hiding among the gore and entrails, making mewling, squishing noises, resided a concentration of squirming red worms... and it was the moment he recognized this, that his own insides froze, dipped in cryogenic liquid nitrogen.
"What the fuck...?"
They were too busy feeding on the undead host to notice him... but in the case of several of them, at least five or six that crawled out from under the bed towards the doorway, this wasn't quite the case. They were larger, their mouths... suckers, soaked in red, along with four growing mandibles in each corner, but the true tone of their tan flesh was predominant. Whereas the ones on the bed were a bit smaller, these one's were as long as snakes... a meter at least, the worms sliding forward ever closer towards him... eyeless, yet not blind. All they knew was that fresh prey awaited, and Carlos was their next meal ticket. He brought his rifle to bear and went full auto with the magazine, an extended one, when they were no more than halfway towards him. It was instinctive... fight or flight or freeze... he was always up for a good fight, even one as horrific as this.
His insides froze, but pure instinct took hold. He squeezed down on the trigger, cutting the lead worm in half, foul green gore and fluids pouring out as its pieces writhed dying on the floor. Its pieces gradually began to deflate, like a gross, bloated balloon covered in growths as its contents leaked. Where it died, the others continued forward inexorably, and the bellow of the rifle greeted each of them too, one after another, Carlos holding his ground, expression frozen in shock and terror even as his body operated. He gunned them all down, pieces and liquid spraying all over the floor, the bullets tearing up the tiled floor, causing sparks and broken pieces flying as it glanced off surfaces, and the moment they were all dead or dying, he stepped closer into the room, past the dead doctor and out of the doorway, into the midst of things. This time, he readjusted his sights to the host zombie trying in vain to get at him, to break free of its medical restraints and lunge, and he fired a burst of shots into its head, putting it down once and for all, whatever it had been. Whoever the patient had been before... this.
The back of its skull exploded as its brains were blown out against the pillow and wall behind it, leaking as surely as the worms. Finally, Carlos aimed down at the host's parted midsection, and he opened fire, spraying the bed and targeting the mewling, squirming seeming nest of them, not discriminating between the organs and worms. Unable to tell them apart as the pounding echo of the rifle in the confined space overtook all, shredding the blood soaked creatures, the green within them mixing with the scarlet, and forming a putrid yellowing mess. Tearing apart the bed. The extended magazine fired away, stopping only when it ran out of bullets... and by then, when the whole bed had been blown apart, and everything in it. Heated brass shell casings streaming around him and striking the floor.
His finger remained on the trigger pressed down as he stood, boots in the midst of the green mess staining the floor, smoke rising from the barrel. At last, very slowly, he lowered the rifle, still gripping it tightly, jaw tightening as he watched all the squirming and writhing on the bed gradually stop. Behind him, there was a familiar moan then, making his heart leap in his chest again. But before he had even fully whirled around to combat the next threat, there was the sharp cracking sound of bone and sinew parting. Carlos turned around back to the doorway in time to watch the blood soaked reanimated doctor, neck broken at a sickening angle, collapse unceremoniously back into the corner it had tried to rise from. The masked U.S.S. Agent, having taken his place in the doorway stood tall over the body, MP5 dangling on the front of his uniform by its strap. The corpse on the floor kept twitching, despite its broken neck, trying to rise again. In response, HUNK calmly drew the modified shotgun, leveling it at the back of the zombie doctor's head execution style. This time Carlos was quick enough to cover his ears, though in the proximity and enclosed space, it didn't help much. The roar of the shotgun tore through the room, a spent shell went flying, and the doctor's head painted the opposite wall, dripping and running down it. Its rising body collapsed again, for good this time... and the agent lowered the barrel. Activating the safety and slinging the shotgun once more in a fluent, casual, well mastered motion.
Then he knelt down slightly to retrieve something that looked like a piece of marked paper in a death clench in the infected doctor's hand, removing and examining it for a moment, then crumpling it up, nodding silently to himself. Carlos was given the opportunity to examine the body as he hadn't upon entering the room. Noting the various unique, circular bite marks over the dead doctors' form... and how dry and drained his flesh appeared. The blood all over him, and the blood that had been on the mouths of the worms, was all he needed to know about what they fed upon. HUNK rose again, and peering back calmly ahead at Carlos in the midst of the carnage. Carlos stared at him, and turned again, back to the bed... the stench terrible, yet not effecting him nearly as much as the sight. Muttering under his breath.
"Oh God... can this night get any worse?"
"Sure you want the answer to that?"
HUNK's low, muffled tone returned calmly from behind Carlos. There was something poking out the side of the bed, beneath it in the shadows, and lowering himself a bit, he found that like the snakes they partially resembled, the worms, after feeding enough most likely, had... shed their flesh entirely, the dead flesh preserved and covered in flies. Maggots writhing. Maybe they sought dark spaces mostly, having been strong enough to hide under there, stronger than the less developed ones on the bed. Maybe... that was why they had come from the host in the first place. In spite of himself... he did want answers. A complete picture of the situation... he'd been ushered into this room for a reason after all. He tried to swallow, and say something, and found he couldn't, even when he turned back to HUNK, eyes imploring quietly for the answers as to just what the fuck had happened. Recognizing it at once, the agent's muffled tone did exactly that, clarifying.
"I was proceeding to the Stagla Gas Station, to meet up with you and Valentine after acquiring my part. I took the sewer system as a short cut. In the process, I came across a hive of such hosts. Webbed up. Nest guardians as well, the multi limbed mutations with the foul green blood, bursting from pods. Pods and biomass all over the tunnel. They prefer it down there, more optimal conditions... these mutations. I destroyed the nest, and moved on. Upon destroying it... I upset something that was living down there. Drew its attention. After our trouble at the gas station, when again you made off on your own, Valentine and I headed back to Central Street Station. Before we got there, and on your way back you saw it, the earth opened like an earthquake. Valentine fell down into the sewer below. She came face to face with it, and barely escaped it. I guided her back to the surface, into the train yard, and we drove it off with fire and bullets. Eventually."
"What the hell was it?"
"Where do you think these things came from, Oliveira?"
"Their host?"
"And what planted them there?"
"...oh shit."
Carlos muttered under his breath as the realization struck him, closing his eyes tightly, trying not to imagine what one of the worms could eventually become, given enough time to develop. He needn't have worried too much... what he had just done and seen was at the forefront of his thoughts, he didn't know if that was a curse, or a blessing. He remembered the hole outside the train station, had been forced to edge his way carefully around it, the scent of the sewer rising thickly in the air and making him cough. He'd even almost slipped once or twice... and as bad as it would have been, he knew now with hindsight how much worse it actually would have proved, if they were still down there. Another form of monster, growing amid the devastation of a dying city.
"You killed her offspring. There's a Queen."
"Valentine reacted similarly. Not all of them, as of yet... clearly... but a sufficient amount to enrage, yes. The hosts release many such worms. Before reaching the hive, I watched as much occur."
"I think I'm going to be sick.", Carlos's hollow tone murmured, swallowing hard, and forcing himself to open his eyes, to look at the soaked, bullet ridden bed sheets, and all the bed held. It was all beyond the pale... going from one horrific room to another in this nightmare of a hospital. And they had only been to a few rooms so far. He couldn't imagine the state of the rest of the hospital... or could, and didn't want to. "How do you know these are mutations, and not creations? What the hell was this guy doing here, with those things inside him? Full of goddamn chestbursters... tied up... while the staff took notes... watched his progress? Was this one of their fucked up bioweapons experiments, man? They had some mutated fetuses in jars and refrigeration in the back room. What the fuck were they working on up here, other than the virus cure?"
"Does it matter? Those are details, Oliveira. Based on past performance of Umbrella scientists, it is likely they discovered this infected host webbed up before he succumb the T-Virus. He was brought here for observation, and potentially as you say to make use of what was inside him. Or perhaps the worms were discovered and the host chosen at random, deliberately infected to observe the results. Regardless, they were recording the subject. It is likely in the chaos as the hospital fell, there was negligence, and the worms escaped. They had not prepared properly for what they were dealing with."
"Aliens, man... it has that movie written all over this. You know that right? I'd call that cliche... but seeing it here, really happening, like this... don't think I'll be looking at that movie the same anymore. If at all. Should have took that fucking flamethrower with us after all, huh?"
"As grotesque as this is, Oliveira, you needed to see it... to know what is out there. What might still be waiting for us. Consider yourself fortunate you did not glimpse the hive."
"What's out there... you didn't kill it, did you?", Carlos asked slowly, looking between the bed and the agent in the doorway wearily. Dreading the answer, yet anticipating it as well. "The mother, the Queen, whatever the hell it is... right?"
"I don't know.", HUNK admitted after a brief pause of careful consideration, thinking back to its screams, all the fluids it had lost, the fire of the Molotov cocktail and its retreat through the sewers. Its screams fading. Days ago, at that. Most things would have died under the barrage they had given it... but there were no 'most things' about the effects of the T-Virus. There was nothing ordinary. Even with all his experience containing, training against and combating them, they managed to surprise him now and again. "We wounded it heavily, but the rate at which it might heal, I cannot be certain. It has been days. More than enough time to mutate. I did not expect it to have a presence out here, after we departed on the cable car. But as of this moment, it must be treated precisely how we are treating the Tyrant, and Nikolai. Out there, somewhere. An active hostile."
"So, we have three separate stalkers wandering around, each with their own special threat, and each determined to find and kill us, or hinder us as much as possible.", Carlos spoke slowly, ticking off all three in his head, two of them with forms he had seen, and the third, the worm, he never wished to know of personally. "One is the Terminator, one is a Bond Villain, and one is a Xenomorph Queen crossed with a Sandworm. I would say bad luck eventually runs out, but I don't believe that anymore. We're screwed, aren't we?"
"We're still alive, and know where we are going. What we are dealing with.", HUNK replied at once, remaining in the doorway, unslinging his MP5 and examining it, before looking back over to him near the bed. The dripping corpse of the patient reflecting in the red lenses. Silent for a moment, before continuing, looking back Carlos`s way. "Until that changes, we have a chance. You've seen how bad it can get, and how quickly it can get that way. It can get worse. It will get worse. Never forget that, or pretend otherwise. But we have our skills, and with them we will get out of here. You've seen what you had to. We're done here. There's nothing more we can do. You did well, removing the host and offspring. If they are allowed to, they would grow to their mother's size. These ones had barely developed."
"What a load of stress that takes off my mind.", Carlos replied with hollow sarcasm, looking at the deflated worms close by, their numerous bleeding pieces. Tilting his spent rifle to the side, he ejected the magazine, letting it drop in the midst of the putrid green fluids darkening on the floor, and inserting a fresh one. Locking and loading. "There's only one gigantic murderous worm out there, still free to lay hives while we're here. I suppose it won't matter, by the time the nuke drops... but it might to us, while we're still here. Lets just get the hell out of here."
"Thermobaric strike." The U.S.S. Agent corrected him simply. "And yes. We have lingered long enough."
Carlos turned back to HUNK in the doorway, stepping over towards him, and in turn the agent stepped back out into the corridor, moving down to the next door out of sight. Replacing the agent in the doorway, he took one last look, to the infected, blood soaked doctor with dry shrunken flesh, laying face down in the corner with his head missing. To the floor, soaked in his blood, and that of the worms, bullet holes and pieces of floor all over. And to the bed, in which the experiment, observation had taken place. Blood dripped off the bed, flowed and ran off the bullet stricken sheets, a light patter of droplets, little different than the rain outside, albeit more audible from where he stood. Droplet by droplet fell and mixed with the blood on the floor, the respective messes. Spent brass shell casings were littered all over the floor among the very bullet holes they had caused, glinting in the light. Just one more room, one more scene of carnage the city had to offer... and it had been because of something as simple as opening a door.
"It's a madhouse... a madhouse."
Carlos muttered to himself bitterly. How many other such scenes were behind each hospital door? Each door of each home? How many stories he would take to his death bed? Too many. Too goddamn many to wrap his head around. And one more of the many he'd seen. Of the many he would see before it was over. He breathed silently, lowering his head for a moment, and recognized the futility of remaining, turning on his boot, but freezing a moment... head turning back as he remembered the camera on the tripod. Moving over to it, he reached for it and pulled it off the tripod, disconnecting it. It had been left running awhile, most likely... had run out of battery. He wondered how much footage it had captured... part of him didn't want to take it, would rather it burned with the rest of the city... but looking back at the dripping, infected test subject in the bed... knowing what Umbrella had done to him... he made the right choice. Tucking it away into his backpack, before turning again for the door and stepping back out into the corridor, closing the door behind him, sealing it away from everything but memory. Gripping the handle of his rifle, lowering it, he looked back down the corridor to Room 402, watching HUNK stand in front of the door, and try the door handle, only to find it quite locked in response. Over all the other horrific images, a much simpler and more welcome one returned to Carlos, and his hand moved for one of the pouches on on his uniform's vest quickly as he addressed the agent again.
"Hold on a...-"
Before Carlos could produce the key from his pocket, HUNK drew his boot back and slammed it into the door, breaking the lock within and sending the door crashing forward, opening, slamming into the wall. HUNK remained where he was for a few moments, weapon risen, laser sight scanning the interior closely. Evidently, unlike Room 401, it did not contain the same manner of horrific surprises, for he did not immediately open fire, as he would have undoubtedly. Instead, the agent nodded silently, apparently satisfied, and glanced back down the corridor at the Corporal, head turning a bit quizzically, Carlos's expression dumbfounded.
"Did you say something, Corporal?"
"...never mind."
"It's all clear inside. I'll see to recovering the Vaccine Base. You stay out here in the passage. Guard it, just in case Nikolai returns. I'll be back soon. Let me know if something comes up."
"Yes sir."
The Corporal saluted the U.S.S. Agent and nodded, then turned and started to leave, wishing to be with his own thoughts. Before it could happen, the man's muffled voice spoke up behind him again. Pausing him where he was in his tracks.
"And Oliveira?"
Carlos stopped and turned slowly back around. Finding the Umbrella Agent still standing like a statue where he was in the doorway, not having moved an inch, watching him closely. Carlos rose a curious brow his way.
"Uh... yes sir?"
"I do not 'gaze' at Valentine."
"Sure you don't, sir."
Carlos smirked openly at that, resisting a sudden urge to laugh with a shrug, knowing better than to take the easy bait of the agent's lie. Both of them knew better. The agent watched him another moment, before turning back to the room, aiming his laser sight within, and stepping into it, and out of his sight altogether, closing the door tightly behind him. The snap echoed through the corridor, and ceased, leaving it as silent as ever. He thought a door containing something as important as part of the vaccine would be locked better, or sturdier... either he had overestimated the Umbrella staff here, or had underestimated HUNK and his methods. When he was gone, Carlos released the laugh he had been holding in, hoping the agent heard it. His hand closed around and removed the sickroom key from his pouch, an and he glanced down slowly at the key in his left palm, now quite a useless piece of metal. Remembering the way the agent had bypassed the gates of city hall as well. How much he seemed to enjoy cutting the Gordian Knot. Carlos smirked a little bit more, but it vanished quickly as he flicked it off to the side, turning on his heel as it hit the ground, and he marched back down towards the trolley dividing the corridors, thinking all the while. Oh well, it wasn't all for nothing, he'd gotten his hands on the photo, some files. It was enough. Reaching the medical trolley, he glanced idly up the corridor towards the data room, and back down towards the closed elevator, then straight ahead, to Room 402.
His mind wandered... from Tyrell's face and words in his friend's final moments... to Nikolai's blood stained, remorseless, icy glint in his eyes as he leveled the pistol at Carlos... to Bard, mutilated alive and fastened to his own desk's chair by both men. But beyond that, his mind did not wander very far from Room 402. Two conflicting thoughts occurred to him... part of him wanted to help HUNK with whatever headache, probably another puzzle, he had to solve to acquire the Vaccine Base. Doing so would mean he could focus on something, doing something that mattered. Something that wasn't Room 401. Wasn't the worms in the bed. The patient. He stood in the corridor, expression distant and haunted, scarcely blinking... rifle slowly lowering and pointing down to the floor. It weighed too much. Everything did. He wanted to unclip the backpack... his vest, and just sit down. Duty alone prevented him. The other conflicting part of him never wanted to do anything again. Didn't want to think, feel or experience. Part of him hated what HUNK had shown him. Hated the agent's cool indifference to the escalating horror surrounding them. His logic. While another part of him envied it... wished he could force himself to be that distant. Well adapted even to this insanity. The U.S.S. Agent had known what was in there, waiting. It was possible he hadn't known of the experiment taking place... but the worms, he knew alright. And had saw fit to show him something in all likelihood was irrelevant. He doubted the things so called mother would be up this far into the city, especially on their way to the outskirts. Assuming it had even survived.
HUNK had saw fit to put even worse images, fresh scarring in his head. Trying to strengthen him further, perhaps... discipline reasons. He was not weak by any means, or he would have been dead by now. But mental scarring added up, scar tissue... and even if his body left Raccoon City in time, he doubted his head would ever be. It wouldn't leave Room 401. The smell. The images. The details, subtle and grotesque. Nightmares, born from the darkest corners of existence. Like nothing any movie could replicate. Well... maybe besides The Thing. He had a lot to thank Umbrella for... more and more each time the T-Virus and its capabilities somehow surprised him. Just how much it could fuck up a genetic structure... make it something it never could have been under any other circumstance. Create monsters. Carlos waited for some time, head bowed, leaving it all behind mentally, standing as a statue might, the fugue of his dizzying, disturbed thoughts never leaving him be. He didn't even think it worth praying for himself, as he had for Jill. For others. Honestly, he wasn't worth it... she had been. The only reason he'd bothered doing so in front of HUNK of all people. Even now that he considered it, he found it laughable. Felt like a fool to hold on to his faith as tightly as he was. But he needed it... the data room and Room 401 were an example of why. Even exhausted, dead on his feet as he was, he still smelled the hell of Room 401, the rot and something he could only compare to a putrid sewer stench clung to the air, and to his nostrils, perverting the very atmosphere of the hospital.
He still heard it. The squishing... the sickly writhing of slimy entities moving together as one. Like an old man eating mashed potatoes. It made him want to vomit, the sound alone, which conjured worse images. He heard it, getting slowly closer towards him, audible, echoing, like the ringing that remained in his ears from all the gunfire... it was fresh, too fresh, squirming closer, unceasing, no matter how hard he tried to shut it out, closing his eyes. Then, from somewhere he heard footsteps, and at last opened his eyes, expecting to find HUNK finally ready to get underway, clutching the part of the vaccine. HUNK, who although was part to blame for all this, could provide him the means to take his mind off it. To continue with the mission. He opened them, only to find this was not the case.
The door to Room 402 remained shut... but only now did he realize the squishing was louder, and closer. The footsteps were slow and deliberate... soaked, squashing on the floor now and again, like boots stepping through thick muck. It was coming from his right side, the hall leading down to the data room. Slowly turning his head in its direction, only then he realized that it had nothing to do at all with his vivid haunting memories, nor his imagination. His rifle was a rendered a meaningless object in his hand for that moment. A cold, spreading shock filling his chest and freezing him to the spot. Raising the hairs on each of his limbs along with goosebumps. Only then, when he saw the tall, dark misshapen, writhing, alien figure... figures... that bore down upon him. Many of them... all bound into one form. He smelled the foul stench of the sewer that hung around it, the foul substance dripped and ran from it, coating the floor... and he found he could draw no air from his lungs to scream.
Albeit not for lack of trying.