Rock992: That's the thing about a human vs human fight compared to a monster one. Could go in quite unexpected ways, depending on those involved and various factors. Unpredictability of humans.
Jinero: Both deserve the death penalty, but as for whether they would get it, depends on if there is one in the state Raccoon City is set in, and lawyers and such. No expert on the law lol, won't be much conventional litigation in this story, but yes it would come down to one of those two options if they were both caught. Alas, Mayor Warren remains at large, for the time being.
I answered that question some time ago. HUNK's Matilda is a modified Steckhin APS that belonged to Lady Spencer, was named for her mother and eldest daughter and given to HUNK before she abandoned him on Rockfort Island. It is very much not the dinky Matilda poor Leon carries lol.
117: No, HUNK would believe Jill is dead when it happens, not having any reason to believe she is alive. No ordinary person would logically survive that fall, though he'd know Wesker survived because of his superpowers. He would be at the Spencer Mansion with Wesker when it happens, had accompanied him to confront Lord Spencer. Then after that second and final meeting with the sick old bastard, personal revelations, him getting his heart torn out, Jill and Chris would arrive for the showdown with Wesker, and HUNK would be forced to choose once and for all. HUNK and Chris would survive the encounter, distraught Chris would beat the shit out HUNK and HUNK would let him out of guilt. Then they would part ways, Chris promising to kill him if he sees him again, regardless of Jill's wishes, and HUNK would leave the revived Red Umbrella that Wesker had recreated in my universe after 4, and go on to found Blue Umbrella in 2007 in Jill's memory, to try to atone further, along with other former Umbrella personnel. A combination of the government/UN red tape/limitations endured working for them that he didn't have to put up with at Umbrella, their refusal to allow Umbrella Security Service in its classic form he knows best to return, along with his worsening depression would lead to him abandoning the faction, giving up on a normal life. He would then go Boba Fett/Mando, travelling around the world as a hired operative/assassin/bounty hunter. Come the events of RE 5, Tricell would contact him, specifically Excella Gionne, and hire/seduce him as her personal bodyguard/head of security for reasons, and take HUNK with her to Africa. He would go with her with the secret intent of assassinating Wesker, cue my version of the events of 5. But there I go again, rambling and spilling ideas that may never even come to fruition lol just like talking about my ideas, came up with quite a timeline of events of my universe. I have no shortage of ideas and material to work with.
As for your other questions there, keep reading ;). Story's not over yet. Though I will say some aspects of HUNK will remain mysterious or not be focused on, can't go revealing absolutely everything, lose all his mystique.
Echo Five: Carlos would join the B.S.A.A. or Blue Umbrella, I think. Maybe both. And definitely get ranked up like he deserves, and become more of a veteran/professional, less pretty boy, though still with his sense of humor and faith.
Likely Jill already knows, from her investigations of Umbrella. The Spencer Family is a world famous, wealthy, aristocratic family, related to Princess Diana and the Windsors, there is a public knowledge of their house that can be easily found out. Though I doubt she knows Bella's significance within Umbrella itself, her role given the secrecy, or what she is to HUNK. Maybe they'll meet, maybe not. I lean towards not, but who knows. I prefer the two most significant ladies of HUNK's life to be kept separate, on opposite sides of him, sort of an invisible tug of war (pun intended) between them for HUNK, a conflict inside HUNK. As for her thoughts on the Wesker Project, despite their many similarities, she disagrees a great deal with her father's delusional megalomaniac "A God am I!" vision, she has her own more pragmatic, sensible, villain vision for Umbrella. She wants to do what TV Tropes calls 'Cut Lex Luthor a Check'. To Lord Spencer, Umbrella is a means to an end, to Lady Spencer it is the end. Lord Spencer is a visionary/Utopian Supervillain, Lady Spencer is a pragmatic/realistic Anti-Villain.
Basically, join me in imagining this scene... set somewhere between 1992 and 1993. Them at the sinister secluded cliff side Spencer Estate we see in RE 5, in the highlands of Scotland, rain pouring and lightning and thunder crashing outside. Both of them sitting in the drawing room where Wesker one day rips out his heart, or at the long dining table:
Lady Spencer (calmly and gently): "Father, we've captured lightning in a bottle with Umbrella. Power and prestige beyond any other corporation or any nation. We don't need to be involved in something as dangerous as the bioweapons industry... we are already making legitimate billions... can revolutionize the world... the medical, technological and arms industries, control the world sensibly and with a bit more subtlety. We've invented Artificial Intelligence, cornered the market on countless products. We can influence the politics and the media of many nations, reshape societies in a direction we wish them to go. With our growing might and influence, Umbrella Security Service can eliminate The Family, Tricell, Shen Ya Pharmaceuticals and the rest if they won't play ball. Most people will bow down to us anyways for our accomplishments, see us as their saviors, extending people's lives, supplying them with a wealth of technology and prosperity. No army of dangerous, outbreak causing B.O.W.'s or visible, potentially uncontrollable supermen overthrowing the world is required. It simply isn't viable. The world is already ours. We shouldn't be putting all our eggs in one basket. What do you say?"
Lord Spencer (drops tea cup on the floor, shatters, spit and tea flying from mouth, outraged): "YOU SOUND JUST LIKE ASHFORD BEFORE HIS LITTLE 'ACCIDENT'! MORE CONCERNED FOR PROFITS AND IMAGE THAN THE VISION I HAVE FAILED TO INSTILL IN YOU! I AM STARTING TO REGRET HAVING MARCUS KILLED, AT LEAST HE SHARED MY GRAND AMBITIONS AND IDEALS!"
Lady Spencer (jaw tightening, yet used to his manic episodes): "He was insane, father. We read all his journals together right here, remember? He was a traitor and a madman. He wanted to destroy the world with infected, mutated leeches and breed an army of Tyrants...-"
Lord Spencer: "I WANT TO BE THE IMMORTAL GOD OF THE WORLD WITH A RACE OF SUPERMEN AT MY COMMAND! USHER IN A UTOPIA! SERGEI WOULDN'T QUESTION ME ON THIS! YOU COULD LEARN A THING OR TWO FROM HIM! YOU WILL DO AS I COMMAND AND SEND ALEX AND DOCTOR CAMERON AS MUCH FUNDING AS THEIR PROJECTS REQUIRE! BIRKIN AS WELL!"
Lady Spencer (quietly): "Father... please listen to...-"
Lord Spencer: "NOT ANOTHER WORD!" *bangs fist on arm rest of his wheelchair* YOU HAVE DISGRACED THE SPENCER NAME FOR FAR TOO LONG! SAVE YOUR PETULANT WHINING FOR THAT COMMON LAB RAT TOY BOY PET OF YOURS! PATRICK! *Rings bell* ANOTHER CUP! AND FETCH ME MY SLIPPERS!"
There you go. That was fun to write. Anyways, that about sums it up, something like that, they are on poor terms presently for a reason. Reasons. And given what we know of Umbrella's inevitable outcome, maybe he should have listened to his daughter more closely. Then again, it's a good thing he didn't, or Umbrella would still be standing post 2003.
Magd305TLC: Much appreciated as ever, glad you're enthusiastic about the story. Keep reading, friend. The story isn't over yet, and keeps going after Raccoon City's destruction. Hope you enjoy the chapter and that I don't disappoint with the fight. A happy New Year to you as well ;). Hope your year goes better than Nikolai's will.
SkullWolfSteam: I'm kicking around an idea or two in my head for a sequel to this story. Have them in mind, but there's coming up with a story and there's writing it xD we'll see. No promises... I have other non RE stories I'd like to get back to and complete... but if I do a sequel to this story it will be my HUNK involved take on Code Veronica, with HUNK as the protagonist, along with Claire, involving quite a cast, and mostly but not exclusively set at Rockfort Island. It would involve Commander Ashford, HUNK's new Alpha Team, some surprise characters and U.S.S. Versus H.C.F. I am writing an outline for it now and again, toying with ideas that will be set up in this story. Just don't want to promise something definitively that might not happen. Right now I'm focusing on this story and the short story tied to it, wanting to get them right.
Vong: HUNK is fairly certain that Alfred is nuts, knew him since he joined U.S.S., has worked for him in the past as the Commander of Rockfort Island. However, true to a character flaw of HUNK's he would underestimate how crazy Alfred is. He would fully find out how batshit Alfred actually is in a Code Veronica adaptation. I could see him wanting to kill Alfred himself though, for being a shitty and Section 8 boss, or overlooking Claire/Chris going after him, prioritizing and focusing on more important matters... like oh, let's say... repelling the active H.C.F. assault on Rockfort Island. Don't think he really cares much about the Ashfords and what will happen to them, and Alexia was believed dead long before he even joined up, and is in a cryopod in the Antarctic. Don't see them ever meeting or crossing paths. You know... apart from Alfred dressing up as her and surprising a thoroughly uncomfortable HUNK for what he thinks is a simple dinner together to give him a report, but what is really a romantic date attempt. If that counts. ;).
Arkham Knight: Most of them would probably laugh at her threats, certain they have bigger fish to fry than some cop named Jill Valentine, especially after Raccoon City. Umbrella's Inner Circle being the petty supervillains that they are. Others might not dismiss her so quickly.
evolution-500: Greatly appreciated friend, and trying to catch those spelling errors, getting better at it but they slip by. Will be editing this story more down the line though, trying to catch the rest. You'll need that extra popcorn indeed ;).
Spartan: Which indeed? One is a former paid Umbrella goon like HUNK who would naturally be sympathetic to HUNK's situation of wanting out of that life, and the chance to atone for his past poor decisions. The other is a rookie cop with a good heart who helped a wanted murderer/soldier (Billy, even if he was framed) escape from custody and covered up for him because it was the right thing to do, choosing to be moral over lawful. Both are good options, would make for a great story and character interaction between them and HUNK, though there can be only one. I know who it is, but which would you prefer?
I suspect Jill, Chris and Carlos might be out of the country on early B.S.A.A. business when all that goes down, take awhile for them to find out, and even if they aren't they will likely be denied access to HUNK anyways, given the branches of the government who are going to apprehend him, they would have a lack of adequate clearance. The Anti-Umbrella Pursuit and Investigation Team, founded by the United States Strategic Command, along with the military will apprehend and hold HUNK and others, who have higher jurisdiction than the fledgling B.S.A.A. Top level shit President Graham directly oversees. The B.S.A.A. will be kept out of it, especially with one of their own being involved in the affair.
nliochristou: Yes indeed, if I make sequels certain events will be altered based on what I think works best and events of previous stories. Sort of a snowball rolling down hill effect in a story. Small changes can grow down the line and alter later games/stories. A story grows in the telling. I decided over time not to do full adaptations of stories rigidly faithful to every game, because if people want to experience the 100 percent faithful product they can always just go back and play the original. It's about telling the story I want to tell the way I need to. That said I try to remain as faithful as possible, while modifying and expanding on certain canon plot aspects and characters where I think it works, and creating plotlines and characters where necessary. Like balancing a creative tightrope, really lol. For example I have an idea for a potential Code Veronica sequel to this story that would alter the events of Resident Evil 6 for a particular character and plot... but more on that later.
bakaultima: Thank you kindly, I wanted to be faithful to such an important scene while doing my own thing with it. Glad it worked for you.
Lord Reyne: Not a bad comparison on the surface lol certain similarities, though deep down under the surface appearance and layers I think Jill is more Mando, tough and nurturing, caring, and Grogu is HUNK, still a boy deep down in need of guidance on a good path, learning. Though I think you'll get a much better Mando and Grogu parallel from HUNK and a certain other character if I get around to writing a sequel lol. Happy New Year to you as well, friend.
Akira-Hayama: Much appreciated as ever, friend, wanted to do justice to the game (unlike the remake) while doing my own thing, adding things I felt worked.
I definitely wanted to hype up the moment, make it worthwhile over the course of the story, for how loong its been pursuing our heroes. Figured it needed to be a climactic showdown, and thought it was fitting she land the killshot with Matilda for that reason you state, and HUNK having intervened against it back at the R.P.D. in the first place.
Exactly, they tried to turn Jill into Doomguy, instead of a tough but normal survivor struggling to escape the city, having experience and being capable, but being human and limited as well. Why I have her and the others in this story basically playing on hard mode. There was no sense of struggle in the remake for me, especially all that plot armor she wore, falling off building and scaffolds, crashing cars and being merely launched through the air by a rocket launcher shot at her feet. And all the times Nemesis grabbed her or had her dead to rights and just let her go instead of killing her. Nonsense. And fixing the railgun was important to me lol.
You have summed up HUNK and Nikolai's characters perfectly as I see them, hope you will enjoy what is to come ;).
Thanks again.
Thank you all for the reviews as ever. We're getting there, folks. And now another confrontation you have been waiting for, one I sincerely hope I do it justice:
October 1st, 1998, 5:17 AM
Facility Rooftop Helipad Platform, Incineration Disposal Plant P-12A, Northern Raccoon City
"Come now... Death! Surely you have more... than this left over? I fear a gust of wind will drop you before... I am done with you!"
He was good.
HUNK could grant him that, little as he cared to admit it. Strong. Fast. Skilled. Cunning. And without the wear and tear of the past days of the operation. Well rested. Alert. His title of Silver Wolf was well earned. Had he wished to, the Monitor would have made one of the finest U.S.S. Agents. His fighting talent comparable to the gifted VECTOR with his Aikido, perhaps. But then, unlike VECTOR's Japanese discipline, service had never really been one of Nikolai's aspirations, had it? Had never been something he was content with. Even if he lived to serve his new masters, he would inevitably wait for a better opportunity, a better offer, and then stab them in the back as well. Never content, never sated. He kept circling around HUNK, trying to get into a blind spot from the gas mask... striking out at him, testing him. With the expected mixed fighting maneuvers that comprised the Soviet Sambo martial arts. And a few unique moves of his own. Nikolai was a skilled practitioner... one he knew had taken down countless others... but not nearly the first with that fighting style that HUNK had faced off with. His moves were familiar... and just as Nikolai studied him, he studied Nikolai's strengths and weaknesses... waiting for his opening. For the Monitor's guard to slip and reveal a vulnerability. Around and around the rooftop they went, the Corporal cheering him on over the radio as he watched from high above. They had been going like this for awhile already he was certain, losing track of the time... or perhaps it just felt like it. This was a world of their own, on the rooftop... even the apocalyptic backdrop of Raccoon City barely entered into HUNK's mind. The Monitor was expending some effort, but holding back to test HUNK's reserves... study his moves up close. HUNK rose his arms, blocking the strikes as they came, deflecting them... the ones he could... limiting his own movements as well, biding his time for the inevitable opening to appear. Nobody was perfect. Regardless of their advantages.
Even with the adrenaline surging, he knew it would wear out fast if he wasn't careful. He had to out think the bastard... brute force alone wouldn't cut it. Certainly not in his current exhausted, pained condition. Were he better off, he could charge, overwhelm and wear down the Monitor rapidly, he was certain... but now he had to be more cautious than usual. Each strike lashed out through the rain his way, and HUNK concentrated on parrying them... but was steadily being forced to give up ground, moving backwards towards the west... towards the outer railing of the rooftop. Just as the cunning Monitor intended, to corner him. When HUNK parried one blow, Nikolai aimed a quick second into his armored chest and struck it... the pain slamming through his midsection, in unison with the pain that had already been there from his bullets. Ordinarily the armor would have absorbed the blow, but now it was a vulnerability. Targeting one of his weak spots that he himself had created earlier. Clever. Again HUNK kept feinting, limited his movements but made them count. When the Silver Wolf aimed a vicious kick at him, he swept to the side just in time, dodged it and threw a strong elbow blow back his way. His metal elbow pad slammed into Nikolai's thinner body armor, knocking him back slightly, but the armor, adrenaline and Monitor's durability and pain tolerance absorbed it. His gleaming, appreciative smile in the rain merely deepened. Pleased he still had some fight in him left. More left than the Russian had thought perhaps.
He had all the time in the world, while HUNK's was running out. More and more he began to rain blows on HUNK's body armor at vital points. He knew just where to exploit... likely having studied QUARTERMASTER's designs. The thinner sections of the armor and body suit. Wearing him down even further. Sliding back out of reach on his boots when HUNK tried to return them... too fast... while he was too damn slow. He was being steadily exhausted... whittled away a piece at a time. A taste of his own medicine? Was this how Colonel Vladimir had felt? All his strength and skill for nothing under the flurry of strikes and constant, more agile movements and dodging of his opponent? HUNK felt every ache of the past days... and new ones forming on this rooftop. The Monitor had probably studied his C.Q.B.Z. from afar, from old footage, where he could... tried to come up with counters. He wouldn't put anything past him. Still the Monitor presented no openings or weaknesses HUNK could discern. All he heard was the rain bouncing off his helmet and around them... his own exhausted muffled breaths of exertion... while the Silver Wolf was silent as a ghost. Confident and assured of his victory already. Its outcome a foregone conclusion to him, it seemed like. Taking visible pleasure from each successful strike, not discouraged in the least for each blow the agent parried.
The Monitor's armor and uniform were less protective, but also less cumbersome and heavy than HUNK's. Nor did his breaths hurt him. In better health, better rested, the weight of the bodysuit, armor and everything else made no difference to HUNK... now it worked against him. Not for the first time, it had him wishing for a Battle Suit, as she had worn. Advanced material, more durable and less cumbersome than the current U.S.S. uniform. It should have been the default uniform of the Umbrella Security Service. Capable though the current uniform was, and superior to the first far more simple one he had worn when he had first joined the U.S.S. Agents should have been afforded every possible advantage. Still... he gave back as much as he could, even as he took three blows for every exhausted, weakened one he managed to land on the Monitor. The Monitor dodged one of the strikes, jolting back, and then jumped up in a scissor kick HUNK was only able to partially block. The momentum of the kick forced HUNK back painfully towards the railing, stopping him from going over. His gloved hand clutched one of the railings, holding on for dear life and bracing himself. As he recovered himself, breathing heavily admit Carlos's shouts of encouragement ringing in his ears, along with the ringing of the strikes, he felt Nikolai grab him by the back collar of his bodysuit. Before HUNK could break free of the Monitor's grip, the Russian slammed him forward face first down against the railing.
Grunting painfully through the mask, his world exploded in a haze of dizziness and darkness from the impact... and the weakened left lens of the mask shattered entirely, giving way at last. The red shards fell away, raining down into the streets below the facility... and half of his red world was pulled back... part of the tint in his vision vanishing. But if not for the mask, he knew he would have been knocked out cold... or hurt too badly to fight back any longer. He felt the cold air of the looming morning rushing inside his breached mask welcomely... soothing his fevered and bloodied face. The cold shock bringing him back around to his dazed senses... just what he needed at the worst moment. Before Nikolai could repeat the gesture or perform another move, slamming him again and again until he blacked out, HUNK reached backwards, seizing his arm in time and spinning rapidly out of his hold. Then for good measure, when Nikolai whirled around to face him again, he deflected the Monitor's next strike with his left and returned a gloved right fist to the bastard's face in kind with all he had left before the Monitor could block or dodge it. The blow connected square against his mouth, splitting both of his lips down the middle of them and knocking the Monitor backwards, staggering him for no more than a moment or two that he snapped back from. Shaking his head slightly to recover from it, icy blue eyes meeting the agent again with a bloody, exhilarated smile.
"That is more like it, Death... a taste of your title. Still have some fight in you. But mine shall be the final blood you draw... that I assure you..."
"Long as I draw... enough of it..."
Nikolai laughed appreciatively at that and drew back, touching his bleeding mouth for a moment with a smile, not overtly unaffected, where HUNK was still reeling, stunned from the impact of the railing. Head swimming, vision blurry... seeing two Nikolai's, and two of the Apache helicopters down the moving rooftop. He tried to clear his head, right himself, stepping backwards, putting a bit more distance between them along the railing. He half expected the Monitor to continue whittling away at him, maneuvering around in front of him... but he surprised the agent instead. Or it would have been a surprise, if not for his obviously dirty nature. Even while holding the advantage already. Wanting another. There was a flash then as Nikolai produced a glinting razor sharp knife from his body armor... not the combat knife he'd thrown away, but a familiar long handled one he'd kept concealed. Of course. A cheating bastard to the end. It had just been a matter of time. In a sudden blur of movement the Monitor rushed forward before HUNK could counter him, closing the distance, faking him out with a false strike of the knife, and instead shooting out his boot. HUNK felt the sudden kick slam against his injured leg, the stinging pain nearly dropping it out from under him, succeeding in taking him off guard. And once he was taken off guard, he glimpsed Nikolai raise the knife and aim it at HUNK's throat. Before his thumb pressed the concealed button on the side of the knife, HUNK turned to the side away from it as it launched and flew... and felt the projectile blade embed itself between his right collar and shoulder... the burning agony slamming through it in an instant. He grunted and gritted his teeth... while Nikolai pressed another button on the long handled knife, bringing up a second blade to replace the one he had fired. He settled his hand on the oozing blade embedded in HUNK, holding it in place, twisting it, while HUNK's left shot up and seized his wrist. Trying to break it away. The Monitor leaned in closer to his mask, twisted sneer deepening with the burning in his shoulder. His low, silky, accented voice washing over him as the rain was running down his mask. Already assured of his victory.
Venom and bile pouring out of his mouth steadily once more through the struggle with victory in sight. Ranting and raving as they struggled, Venom that mirrored the very thoughts he'd had before, often. The doubts. As though plucking them his mind. Giving them a voice he had never dared to.
"Much better... I wanted to look in the eye... as I killed you. Do you think your precious Bella will give me your title of Death... when she hears what I have accomplished so easily? I would have made... a better disciple of hers than you have proven... in the end. She would not have grown bored of... nor abandoned me. You are pathetic. What did she tell you to gain such sickeningly blind loyalty? That she loved you? That you were important? There is nothing special about you. You have had luck and benefactors propping you up all these years... nothing more. I was never your enemy... compared to the worse ones who have shared your bed... where I was honest... they pretended to care for your best interests. All you were was an amusing, useful plaything to her... as you are to the Countess now, her pale imitator... like a jealous little sister. Degenerate, inbred, blue blooded oligarch cunts... having their way with you. She scraped you out of that orphanage to do her and her father's dirty work... and to fuck those three little bastards into her festering womb behind her eunuch husband's back. All of them blissfully unaware in Essex... not knowing who and what their father truly is... what their mother is. She groomed you since you were a boy... and you know it... deep down... hard as you try to ignore it. She raped you in body, mind and soul. Made you a willing, eager, unwitting participant in your own violations. Turned you hideous and unrecognizable... even to your own eyes. Killed your spirit. You were her little rebellion against daddy, for the responsibilities he shackled to her ankle for years... a lab rat turned pet... nothing more. Why do you think... Spencer didn't make her take you with her when she left? Kept you at the company, doing his dirty work instead of hers? He was being a father... punishing his spoiled, disobedient daughter for not sharing his ideals... by taking away her favorite toy... giving it to another he favored. Looking at you as you are now... it would have been a kinder fate, I think... if she had simply left you right where you were..."
Equal amounts of rage and adrenaline spiking again at his taunting words, along with the burning pain of the knife, HUNK grunted and managed to pull off the Monitor's grip on the blade, knocking him back a couple steps with a powerful open handed strike. Putting enough distance between them at least to pull the blade rapidly from his shoulder with another pained grunt, throwing it aside over the railing, feeling the warmth of the blood rushing down his arm within the suit. The burning worsening with each movement. He needed to stop fucking around and end this, now... before the Monitor did. It was his last opportunity, he knew. Nikolai drew back to lunge forward and stab him again, this time in the throat as he had intended with the other blade... but HUNK shot both arms up just in time. Catching his wrist before he could... watching the glinting serrated steel tip get closer to his mask. Closer towards the broken lens... to slip within the socket. All it would take was the press of a button if he managed to get it where he wanted it. Over the radio he heard Carlos's voice scream loudly, blaring to life.
"Let me take him! HUNK, get clear! I can hit him from up here!"
HUNK forced himself to look away from the looming knife for a moment and back up to the Control and Communications Tower. Standing there in one of the middle broken windows, Oliveira was aiming down the scope of his rifle to his shoulder. He looked back into Nikolai's hateful, leering, exerted face and the glinting knife inching closer to his socket, the thumb perched over the button to fire it into his skull the moment he got the right angle. In his mind's eye... he saw Jill's face again, swimming towards him through the agony. Her calm blue eyes... as she moved somewhere down below the facility. Facing an impossible task. An impossible fight. Something that put his struggle with Nikolai alone to shame. Somewhere, she was fighting for them with all her various injuries without any assistance... they were counting on her to protect them from the Pursuer... the least he could do was protect her from Nikolai's schemes. From the bombs he had planted. Prove he could do it... without the simple assistance of a rifle being fired from above. And... Nikolai was right about one thing... this showdown had been a long time coming. He wanted to know the outcome. They both did. His weakened condition was irrelevant... the rage his likely truthful taunts inspired... he had a duty to fulfill. A promise to keep. At last, his exerted voice returned to the impassioned young Corporal, low and hardened, resolute with his decision.
"Negative."
"PLEASE! LET ME KILL THE BASTARD ALREADY!"
"Stand down. That's an order, soldier."
A calm draped itself over him, as he looked back into the face of death... not Nikolai... but the tip of the knife. Digging his boots into the rooftop, gritting his teeth, focusing with all he had left, HUNK twisted Nikolai's wrist back inch by inch. Slowly, he forced the knife backwards, the haft going closer to Nikolai. The Monitor struggled back, applying more strength... enough that HUNK knew he was seconds from the knife breaking free of HUNK's grasp and entering his eye or throat. The Monitor already had a great deal of strength without the wear and tear of the past days... and now that he was applying himself... HUNK knew he would win... unless he changed the odds. For all his combat experience, the many he had killed... the Monitor had finally made a fatal error in getting too close to the agent for as long as he had... making this personal. He should have stuck to wearing him down... but his patience had snapped as it rarely ever had. Not the only thing that would be, HUNK resolved. He elbowed Nikolai in the chest, driving him back a step or two... and the Monitor's boots slipped partially on the soaked platform below them... and the partial loss of momentum, for just a split moment, was what the U.S.S. Agent needed. At the last moment he gripped either side of the bastard's wrist and lower arm and shifted it rapidly in two different directions with all the strength he had left. There was a muffled cracking as HUNK dislocated his arm and with another well aimed blow, broke it entirely in a compound fracture, the bone protruding from torn, bleeding flesh. To his credit, even as the socked pain was etched in his face, as the odds turned against him in the span of an instant, Nikolai didn't cry out or scream in agony. There was more something like disbelief as he looked between the now useless arm and the U.S.S. Agent. Blindsided by the sudden action. HUNK heard Carlos's burst of gloating, roaring laughter then, at the sight of it as well.
"OOOH! THAT'S GOTTA HURT! KICK HIS ASS!"
The bloodied projectile firing knife fell from his useless hand over the side of the railing... and his left came up instead as a counter maneuver, grabbing HUNK's neck, squeezing powerfully... the Russian having trained himself to be ambidextrous, like him. Nikolai snarled, the shock and disbelief replaced by genuine rage as he lost control of the fight. HUNK kept his neck as tight as he could, gagging painfully within the mask, vision dimming, hazy... feeling another vicious, enraged kick slam against his weakened leg, he grunted painfully at the strike, nearly toppling, but somehow he used Nikolai's body and the railing to keep from falling over. Getting them into a new angle, HUNK slammed his fist into the Russian's uselessly hanging, broken right arm, the bone crunching further, worsening its condition. This time Nikolai did release a deep grunt of pain, grip on HUNK's neck slackening partially, distracted and taken off guard. Ignoring the screaming agony in his collar, shoulder and leg, HUNK seized him by the front of his vest and uniform once he was off balance, slammed a fist against his stomach, knocking out the air. He followed it up at once with a leg sweep, taking him off balance and then throwing him backwards on the concrete roof with a grunt of exertion for good measure. The moment he landed heavily on his back, painfully, Nikolai rolled over and attempted to crawl across the roof, through the puddles, broken arm dragging lamely behind him, good arm helping pull him along towards his nearby earlier dropped pistol to retrieve it. Intent on ending the fight his usual dirty way. Fingers outstretched and reaching for it desperately. Before he could settle his hand against it, the exhausted, battered HUNK, limping down after him rapidly, caught up with him just in time and crashed down on top of Monitor from above with a slam from his metal elbow pad. The strike against his back and weight of the agent drove him into the concrete... and wrapping his left arm around the Monitor's throat, he began to tense his muscles, squeezing, the right grabbing him by the hair and holding his head straight.
The Monitor gagged, choked and struggled, trying to break the grip with his left... and failing, getting weaker with each moment, while HUNK's adrenaline and strength surged. Despite everything, the agony all over the agent, half delirious... he had the Monitor now. And they both knew it.
They all did.
"Break his fucking neck!", Carlos screamed and laughed triumphantly through the radio, and he heard a muffled banging of the young man's fist against the panel in front of him. "Yeah man! Kill him! Kill that motherfucker! You've got him!"
A little more pressure... all it would take. A sudden jerk of his head in the right direction while keeping the neck braced... just as she had taught him to... and it would be over. He would be as dead and gone as everyone else he had killed over a decade. What was coming to him would be delivered. He had never been more tempted to end the fight that way... and the Corporal's victorious cheers and encouragement only made him want to do it that much more. To hear that satisfying cracking of his bones. His silence... no more threats or self satisfied mockery. Especially now... watching the Monitor's face turn purple, watching him gag and struggle weakly. His eyes widening, bulging... all that smugness leaving his body as quickly and surely as the oxygen was. He felt a growing, familiar heated rage threatening to overtake him... murderous desire. What he had wanted to do to Colonel Vladimir... imagined doing, since he started trying to interfere with Lady Spencer's power and position. What he should have done. But no... it would be too simple. Too quick. Not good enough for someone like him. It wasn't about mercy... or pity. He merely wanted to watch the bastard rot in Umbrella's custody... thoroughly interrogated by the professionals for everything he knew. Maybe sent to an Umbrella facility once he outlived his usefulness, then used as a test subject, as many of the prisoners there were. As he had intended Jill to become at the hands of his new employer... after attempting to steal the vaccine that had cured her, all to line his own wallet. And to fuck with him, of course, just like the Colonel.
A taste of his own vile, slow acting poison... was just the prescription Death had for the Monitor.
At last, before he suffocated, HUNK willed himself to release the bloody mouthed, gasping Monitor, who slumped forward against the concrete and puddle painfully, choking, gagging, trying to catch his breath. HUNK rose back up to his feet with a pained, low grunt, vertigo nearly knocking him over again... but his world grew sharper, through the haze, steadily. He stood... bruised, aching, throbbing, bloody, bleeding and worn out... as he never had been before. It was all he could do to will himself not to vomit in his mask... to keep his legs from giving out beneath him, and joining the Russian face down on the rooftop. Trying to center himself. It had never been this close, even if the brutal fight had been relatively brief. One misstep... and it would have been over. It nearly had been. He had prevailed through luck more than anything else in this case, he was certain. Nikolai had been right about that much... they had both always been lucky in their line of work. Him more so in this instance. Looking down through the vertigo, spotting it close by... he tiredly kicked the gasping Monitor's pistol further out of reach across the roof, over towards the western railing. He watched it fall over the side of the rooftop before turning back to Nikolai and aiming one last spiteful kick with his better off leg into the Monitor's midsection, kicking out what little air he had recovered. Hearing the welcome, muffled sound of a few of Nikolai's ribs breaking against his boot. As the Monitor retched and gasped in agony, the agent had to force himself to limit himself to one kick... or he would have kicked him to death right then and there. He allowed the Monitor to remain conscious... wanting him to feel all of it. As he did.
HUNK stood there above him, gasping and breathing through the mask, trying to regain his calm... his cool. Easier said than done. Always had been... especially now, with his head swimming. With adrenaline, rage and wrath. Eventually, he got at least some of it back. Enough of it to think clearly.
Or at least clearly enough to know... that he wasn't done yet.
He remembered the Colonel again... remembered what he wished he had done to the giant Soviet bastard on the beach that day. What he should have done, to the communist usurper with a pathetic father complex out to steal what rightfully belonged to Lady Spencer. In front of all his best men and her best agents. He would never get the chance again to do it to him... but perhaps Nikolai would be enough to suffice, in his stead. A message. The two as close as they were. Disciple vs disciple. A certain poetic justice to it Lady Spencer would have appreciated, he was certain. A lesson to be taught. Leaning over Nikolai, HUNK pulled him over to lie on his back and rose both gloves above the Russian's stunned, gasping face. Something told him not to go through with it... that it wasn't necessary. That it was going too far. Born of a pointless cruelty... a rage he had felt and let control him when he was younger and less professional. Before she had left him... and turned him and his passion cold. He didn't listen to that voice, this time. Smothered it. Bella wasn't here to stop him now. To control him. Nobody was. And Nikolai deserved this. Instead, he calmly looked between each of the Monitor's eyes, and chose the appropriate one. He slipped off the right glove and set it aside, tucking it down in one of the belts on his body armor, before raising his bare hand again, lowering it to his face. Settling his thumb against the widening, realizing eye he had chosen, his other moved to the opposite side of his head and pinned him down against the concrete so he couldn't squirm. The cold, calm voice of the hardened criminal he had long ago become murmuring through the beaten up gas mask to the Russian.
"I despise you for making me do this."
"What the hell are you...-"
Carlos started with bewilderment over his radio, but HUNK ignored it as he pressed his thumb down, gouged and squeezed, his stabbed collar and shoulder burning as he did so. Hearing the Corporal's jubilation and enthusiasm from before turning to horror all at once, like the look in the Monitor's bulging exposed eye. The dawning understanding.
"Jesus Christ!"
This time, Nikolai did scream. Into the night, echoing, cutting off even the radio in HUNK's ears. Though still he heard Carlos retching audibly over the radio... in his mind's eye he saw the young Corporal looking away from the tower window, away from the rooftop platform. Still relatively innocent... as he might have been, once. Able to do battle and kill, defend himself and his friends... but the dirtiness of war still deeply bothering him... as it no longer did the agent. He forced himself to ignore the sounds on the radio and the screams directly below him, to repress any pity towards the man who had brought it and worse on himself, watching the blood, aqueous humor and vitreous gel leak out of the socket and stain his bare hand, feeling the warmth of it. Slick, warm blood and squishy gelatin. He pinned the convulsing Nikolai down harder, keeping him planted on the spot, though couldn't stop his desperate left hand beating at him uselessly against his weathered body armor. The agent saw his hand rise up and felt it press against the wound he had left at his collar in retaliation, thumb digging into the agent's flesh, the burning pain there worsening. His jaw tightened, but he otherwise ignored it, the worsening throbbing pain of his bleeding knife wound, the warm blood of his own running down the inside of his bodysuit, and focused intently on his handiwork. Adrenaline surging. The Monitor's arm quickly fell away from the knife wound and went to HUNK's wrist instead, attempting and failing to break his grip. HUNK tried to force himself to feel no pleasure over what he was doing, nor to look away from any of it, nor to hesitate or blink.
No matter how simultaneously welcome and disturbing the man's useless screams and helpless struggling were.
HUNK watched the tears of agony burning and pouring from his remaining, agonized eye, streaming as surely as the blood was from the other cavity. Sounding more like a frightened, helpless boy born in a Soviet village than the battle hardened Cold War veteran who had survived and thrived in Afghanistan. A Spetsnaz operative who had fought in countless missions, served under the Colonel, and had gone on to do the same at Umbrella. A Supervisor who had thrived even in the insanity of Raccoon City. The man he had been was gone, all of a sudden. There was nothing smug or arrogant left to him, once the irresistible consequences of his actions finally arrived for him. Reaping what he had sown. He was a dirty coward, when it came down to it. Always had been. He heard the man's pathetic, rapid pleadings in his own language, begging for mercy he would never and had never given to others, and ignored them. Nikolai had forced his hand in this. It had to be done. It was right... and despite his rage... HUNK remained in control. Still... he wanted to keep going further than that... to take out the other eye... to not stop at the eyes... to beat him into bloody pulp with his bare fists... watch the life ooze from him... wanted to cut his head off with the combat knife, stuff it in Nikolai's backpack and bring it with them. He wanted to throw it at the Colonel's feet on the deck of the Leviathan and see the look on the giant bastard's face. It was a beautiful, welcome image that threatened a smile... would be worth another needling, invasive psyche evaluation. But in his concentration, his haze, he finally heard DEN MOTHER's voice again on that beach, commanding him not to kill the lesser foe. To teach him a humiliating lesson he would have to live with... instead of a painful but relatively quick way out. He felt her soothing hand on his now injured shoulder. Saw those unwavering, authoritative green eyes again that he had long submitted to... for better or for worse. Steadying even his worst rage in those days. The only one who could... the one who had created him to begin with.
And with that in mind, he finally relented... at the last moment.
When he was finished with the blood soaked, destroyed left eye cavity, his stained hand retracted from the socket, coldly studying the quality of his handiwork. The blood flowing from the cavity, dripping from his fingers. Nikolai's screams and pleading cutting short, turning to heavy, ragged breathing and pained moans, remaining intact hand going to cradle his blood, tear and rain soaked face, while HUNK rose to his feet again slowly. Looming over the stunned, retching Monitor throwing up all over himself and the concrete... finding his hollow, deadened voice.
"There. An improvement. Thanks for the idea. Now you and the Colonel match better. Have something else to talk about. You're getting off easy, Nikolai."
The Monitor breathed deeply, growled and snarled like the savage animal he was at those words, trying to recover himself, still holding his bloody face. Remaining cold blue, agonized eye watching him hatefully through the rain. Good. He hadn't lost consciousness and wasn't going to. HUNK wanted the Monitor to feel it. What he had just lost. A phantom pain to join every other kind of pain. To remain aware of his situation. And what was in store for him, next. The rain continued to pour down his form, washing the blood and vitreous gel off his hand while he spoke.
"I'm going to let you live. Longer than you want to.", HUNK informed him quietly, his muffled, rapid breathing slowly balancing out. Hand tightening into a fist. Steadying himself a bit more. "I want you alive... to let Umbrella decide your fate... when they hear from me what you've done in my report. Your treason. You don't get a quick exit from this world of ours. Don't deserve one. Consider yourself defanged... Silver Wolf. Should have done that a long time ago."
HUNK reached down to the pocket on Nikolai's vest and flipped it open, retrieving the detonator within carefully, looking it over as he rose. Such a small thing to cause such trouble. He closed the small safety cover on it and slipped it into one of his own pockets, and reached for Nikolai's fallen combat knife. He picked it up and threw it far across the roof as well, over the edge of the facility... then he slipped his right glove back on, and marched back towards the middle of the roof... feeling the rain leaking down his face as it went inside the broken lens. The cool, welcome touch of it was inviting... he was heated throughout, the sweat and blood running down his forehead, front and back. Reaching the right spot on the rooftop, he knelt down painfully with a grunt, ignoring the burning, slowly, and retrieved the Samurai Edge, flicking on the laser sight. Then he retrieved his fallen combat knife, tucking it back away into its sheath. Once he had done that, his radio blared to life with a familiar, accented voice, and HUNK looked up to the Control and Communications Tower. Seeing Oliveira's green uniform and dark armored form looking down at him, his amazed, horrified, disheveled features, and mouth moving as his hesitant, awed tone spoke over the radio.
"I'm... not even going to ask why you did that..."
"Do you... need to? You heard... more than enough."
"Good point. Eye for an eye Old Testament sort of guy, huh? Not usually how you deliver the Moe Greene treatment."
"Bullet would have been... too quick..."
"Fair enough. That was... fucking incredible... man. Even injured, exhausted, you stomped the shit out of him. Like a kung fu movie. Can only imagine if you'd been at your best. The stories about you... they weren't all bullshit, were they?"
"Enough of them... are true. Even if they grow... in the telling. Been doing this... worse than this... too long."
"We get outta here, I'll buy you a round at the closest bar, you can tell me a few if you want. Get some things off your chest. Been carrying a lot of shit around, all this time. Clearly."
"I'd like that."
"What about Nikolai? If he's tagging along... we're gonna have that seating issue."
"We tie him to the wing. Problem solved. If he falls off... he falls off."
"Knew I liked the way you think. In the meantime, come power up the elevator, Secret Agent Man. Then we can tie that bastard up and go get Jill, kill that fucking Tyrant, let her baby you a bit over that knife wound, prep the chopper and get the fuck out. There's still time. Besides, I'd like to kick that son a bitch down there a few times myself. For making me miss out on joining in on that 80's action movie ending."
"If you really wanted to play hero... take that knife for me... I wouldn't have objected. On my... way. Give me a minute..."
Oliveira laughed at that from the tower and flashed him a thumbs up... HUNK said nothing but returned the gesture. Oliveira moved out of sight then, over to the elevator doors up there, waiting on him. HUNK started forward again, limping slowly towards, the vertigo, pain and exhaustion nearly making him collapse, legs buckling now and again. Walking like an infected at this point. His head was spinning, ears ringing. No... he couldn't black out. Not yet. He still had things to do. He had to go to her... find her... help her. He kept her powerful image in mind... stronger than the visage of the Nemesis. Him and Oliveira would go to her... and kill it with her, if she'd not already done so. He had to fly them all out of the city as well. Get them clear, to safety. Nikolai, despite everything... had been a warm up act. His troubles were not yet over. He focused ahead at the metal doors of the elevator, the laptop in its case and the cable connected to the panel. One more objective first. There was always another. Especially as time was running out. He breathed deeply through the mask. The burning pain throbbed in his arm every time he tried to move it... and already he heard Doctor Radames' nagging him. About now... it would be one of the sweetest sounds he could hear.
Not that he could ever tell her that. Couldn't afford to be vulnerable. Not at Umbrella.
But he paused, catching sight of the backpack again... Nikolai's... close by the laptop. It stood out like a beacon... tantalizing him... moving to the forefront of his thoughts... wondering what the Monitor had managed to gather, away from them during his time in Raccoon City. He made his way to it first... his curiosity needing resolving... and he unzipped the bag, looking inside... finding some supplies and ammunition... but his attention turned to a certain, familiar case occupying much of it, withdrawing it from the bag and studying it under the light of the helipad platform. A dark metal case... sealed and locked... with a familiar red viral warning symbol on it. Having handled many cases like it on transportation jobs, he unlocked the electronic seals and clamps on it with ease... and it popped open, revealing the rows of assorted clear vials, sealed away, and visible within. A multitude of blood and fluid samples, saliva, skin collections... of varying foul tones. Each of them marked in the Russian's familiar scrawl, written in his native language. His eyes narrowed as he read each of them, translating.
Drain Deimos. Brain Suckers. Crimson Heads. Glowing Ones. Pale Ones. Sliding Worms. Crimson Heads. Lickers. Suspended. Wasp. Mega Bite. Crow. Neptune. Giga Bite. Scissor Tail. Tyrant R. Tyrant C. Nemesis.
Nikolai had been busy outside bombing buildings around the city. A treasure trove of biological samples, from the mutations spawned in Raccoon City. Enough to make any of the company's laboratories and scientists froth at the mouth eagerly. Another army for Umbrella to grow. Or more likely, intended to be a rival B.O.W. army for Nikolai's new employer to grow and control himself. Unleash on the world and strike at Umbrella with. Worth millions. Billions, perhaps. He'd already had more than enough money... but had wanted the vaccine, the G-Virus, and Jill as well. Of course he had. He wanted the world. Even that wouldn't be enough. HUNK looked back over to the broken Nikolai, laying and breathing in the bloody, vomit filled rain puddle he had left him in, barely stirring, coughing. Shaking his helmeted head... then looking back down at the backpack. Umbrella would want the biological samples confiscated for the bioweapons division, along with everything else Nikolai had collected... would grow these mutations their selves. Would love their hands on something like the Pale Heads. Subject countless test subjects to the horror of the mutations inside each vial. The children... from the company's many orphanages. As they surely would the G-Virus when they received it. How much evil did he have to return to the company with? Give to them? Be part of? How much was enough to be culpable in? He thought of Jill... of Carlos and of Captain Mikhail, of his lost Alpha Team. Of Sherry Birkin. Even the Delta Force operator he likely would have been forced to kill, if the Nemesis hadn't beaten him to it. He thought of the devastation of the city, the first time he'd seen it from an elevated position. The nightmare they had waded through together. His mission orders were clear. To return the G-Virus to Director Henri in Loire Village. The simplicity of the orders... mission perimeters... gave him clarity. Flexibility to work within... especially with the authority he had been granted. Authority he could take advantage of... while he still possessed it.
Jaw tightening, the pain giving him further clarity... he made his decision at last. One more duty... before they could leave. A loose end... a nightmare to resolve. They kept adding up. Umbrella would have to content itself with what he returned to it with. Its hands would be full as it is, after the city's destruction. He forced Jill, Carlos and the Nemesis from his mind, for the moment. He knew she would want him doing this. Would do it herself, given the chance. But... she may well have already been dead... for all he knew. He had to act accordingly... now. There was no time to delay objectives right in front of him. He closed the case but did not lock it again... instead he wrapped his right arm around it, holding it against his side, and held the backpack in the left... and turning, he sluggishly marched back down the far end of the landing zone. Limping all the while through the rain, over the rooftop, ignoring the worsening pain and the flowing blood... ignoring everything but the railing ahead... the edge of the platform. Tapping and shuffling of his boots echoing around him. Gradually reaching the far end, he leaned against the railing he had been smashed against before... gathering his strength, looking down over the side, out to the city. Setting down the backpack in a puddle, he took up the viral case in both hands again, popping it open... looking over the samples once more. With little more than another glance, one after another he reached in and began to throw them off the side of the Dead Factory, watching them plummet through the night down into the horde controlled, fiery streets below. With each vial he threw, he felt a little more of his burdens leaving him... losing the weight of them... but he would not lose them all, he knew. All the same... it felt good. Doing something right... for a change. He savored it, ignoring the pain as best as he still could. The burning with each movement... pain he deserved. The consequences of his actions... his mistakes. They had been his choices, at the end of the day... even if there had been others involved, other circumstances. His radio blared to life then as he rid the world of the samples, with the Corporal's impatient, confused voice speaking up again.
"What the hell are you doing down there? What's the hold up? What's that you're throwing out?"
"Useless junk. Making room... in this backpack. Remain patient..."
"Man, you're weird. Strange ass priorities. Just hurry up, before you bleed out, or we're never getting out of here. I'd like to get my forty winks while you fly us out. Beats the hell outta you and Jill making out in the back seat while I fly. And still wanted to rain those Hellfire missiles on City Hall and Main Street."
"All in good time... Corporal..."
At last the downpour of samples ceased, and HUNK held the final sample of the case in his hand... belonging to the Pale Ones. Pale Heads. Maybe this all wasn't enough... another outbreak might happen, and Umbrella or another company would get their hands on this particular mutation strain and the others anyways. Maybe destroying the samples was just delaying them... delaying the inevitable... buying time. Nor would it set anything right he had done in his life. Or anything he had yet to do. But it was something. Something was more than nothing. He remembered the Pale Head that had tackled him in the cemetery, his fight against it. It had been close... closer than he wished to admit. If he could deny Umbrella something like the Pale Heads... it was worth all the pain in the here and now. The way he was prolonging it. Throwing away the last of the samples at last, he watched it plummet down into nothingness, breathing muffled breaths through his mask. It was over. A few of the many nightmares, at least. A few of the burdens. He looked down at the empty case, to the red viral biohazard symbol upon it... before spitefully throwing it over the side as well with everything he had. Turning his eyes instead to the rest of the data and files contained within the backpack. Recovered, sealed up documents. Between them and the laptop, it would be more than enough to take back with him. Enough to make his case with. His shield... along with the G-Virus. He hated himself for it... for the politics... partaking in them... having to cover his own ass... but necessity was all he knew. Whether it made him comfortable or not. He nodded with satisfaction and turned from the railing at last, limping once more back down through the rain towards the elevator doors. Passing the helicopter and broken figure on the pavement without so much as a glance at either. Reaching the set up laptop and setting the backpack down beside it. With a pained grunt, his injured, swollen leg finally gave out and he stumbled forward, collapsing on to the concrete, the pain worsening in his midsection and shoulder. The battered armor muffling the pain only so much.
He paused where he lie face down in the rain... slowly breathing... attempting to regain his calm, to keep it. To remember the breathing techniques she had taught him. To clear his mind. To meditate. He felt light headed, then. Somewhere far away, he heard the Corporal's fearful voice on the radio, speaking words of encouragement for him to get up... to stand again and power up the elevator... but in moments it wasn't the boy's voice he heard. Instead he remembered her soothing, accented voice in his ear... remembered them practicing at her London Estate, out in the gardens. It had taken him awhile to master... his mind not at peace, then... but she had helped him find inner peace, ironically... before she had helped him find war. Or at least... he'd thought she had at the time. He had been distracted by his memories of the orphanage at the time... even being free of it, even being with her... the nightmares had stayed with him awhile. Until she took them away. Though perhaps in truth... he had been more distracted by her, really. She had soothed away those nightmares... replaced them with good feelings... a feeling of belonging... the tall, golden haired Lady in the tight, 80's spandex yoga outfits she had wore every time they worked out together back then. The material clinging to her perfectly sculpted body. He uttered a sharp, painful, coughing laugh at the absurd, out of place memory, unable to help himself. What a boy he had been... all the time, around her. Full of desire. Passion. But she had encouraged it. Her needs had matched his. Surpassed them at times. He remembered the way she'd deliberately pressed herself back against him as they stretched, the hungry, heated look in her green eyes from over her shoulder. When they finished a workout, she would take him by the hand... led him to the shower for another sort of workout. All the same... meditation had come in handy, the times he had been wounded on their missions. It had become an instinct... but his instincts now were exhausted by Raccoon City. Shot.
HUNK had to will himself to focus... to remember his lessons. He was a boy again, even here and now... relearning. From her, and all the instructors she had made available to train him when she had been abroad on her father's business. Or spending time with Lord Robert and their... no... her children... in Essex. So close... when he had been in London... but so far. Other times she sent him to stay at various other properties of hers around Europe. She had been away often, for one reason or another, but that had just made the time they got to spend together all the more special when they had it. Their many reunions. Made him savor the time they shared. Sometimes she would go away for a short time... other times longer. The longest tended to be certain missions abroad... and each time she had given birth to her children, of course. The instructors had kept him busy during those times, likely at her instructions. All his fears, concerns and doubts evaporating whenever she had called from wherever she was to check up on him, to come to him be with him again. And he had done all he could to help her unwind from her responsibilities... when she had taken him out on their dates. To theaters and concerts, hotels and restaurants... travelling. Taught him things outside his education for joining the U.S.S. How weak... and pathetic he must have looked now, compared to the man he had been mere days ago. The man she had forged him into to serve Umbrella. All the struggles... to become the best... and now he was reduced to this state. As weak as he'd been as a boy. He felt all the judging eyes watching him from above... from the Umbrella Satellite Network... but found he didn't care as much as he usually did being stared at by so many. Though he wondered how many of the observers silently or otherwise cheered for him to rise again, and how many of them for him to collapse and bleed out. Teeth gritting, he intended to disappoint the latter group... especially the one most responsible for him being on this rooftop. He couldn't afford the luxury of death. Not with the weight of burdens he still carried. Everything still left undone.
Very gradually, his breathing mellowed out... the pain seemed a bit more distant... at least enough to start crawling across the roof closer to the laptop, pulling himself along... digging his boots in the concrete, though they slipped in the rain several times. Slowing him. Gradually he managed to raise himself back up with a grunt to one scratched up knee pad, on his better off leg, looking to the screen of the laptop, all the information scrawled upon it. Preparing to make use of it, to restore power to the elevator. To commence with their escape at last.
But it was not to be.
A different voice from War's drifted across the roof after him, another accent... eerily calm... calling his name. The name he knew best. The one he had become somewhere along the line.
"Death."
At the voice... its labored breaths... HUNK slowly, painfully forced himself back up to his feet again, ignoring the burning, and turned back around to face the voice, looking back across the roof through the rain. Nikolai, soaked through in rain and blood, had forced himself back up to his feet again, standing over near the middle of the rooftop platform... right arm hanging lamely at his side. Bone exposed. But his left hand was risen, and not shaking, perfectly steady. In it HUNK glimpsed another device with a red button that made him freeze... inside and out. Silver Wolf merely smiled coldly and pitilessly, sole remaining eye unblinking even as the rain washed down his stained, bruised face, red oozing slowly from the left cavity, smearing his features in a bloody mask and grinning skull... thumb perched over the red switch.
"You should have reaped... while you had the chance... instead of sowing..."
The Monitor's thumb pressed down on the backup detonator before HUNK could say, think or do anything... and in an instant, a deafening boom rang out... a great fiery explosion of light, shaking the entire rooftop. But it did not come from below them, within the facility or around it... or in more than one spot. It came from the north, at the far end of the rooftop. Where the midnight black Umbrella Apache attack helicopter had stood, there was only fiery, twisted metal and concrete wreckage in its wake, flying through the air and crashing every which way. The force of the explosives and Hellfire missile pods blew off that entire section of the rooftop, support sections collapsing down there... fires engulfing it, and it broke apart and crashed loudly somewhere far below out of sight. HUNK rose his arm instinctively as the brightness flashed, digging his boots into the cement roof and holding on tight. By the end of the explosion, most of the landing pads were missing, at least half of the great rooftop had crumbled and dropped off into the streets below the facility, raining fiery debris on the infected and mutations below, lighting them up and burying a number of them in rubble. Gradually, HUNK's arm lowered again, looking to all the debris scattered around the remaining rooftop, looking ahead. And there he stood in the midst of it... more demon than man, still at home in his natural environment in spite of everything... framed by the raging inferno behind him... stood in the rain... the silver haired bastard smiling triumphantly back down at HUNK with a blood smeared face. Cold blue eye gleaming. Through all the noise, his voice spoke again, and he lazily pointed the spent detonator at HUNK, and did not take his lone cold, dead eye off the agent.
"You lose. Glorious... isn't it?"
The shock of the explosion wore off the agent steadily... but he was more awake now than he had ever been... didn't feel any exhaustion or pain anymore. Not really. All he saw was the Monitor standing down there, wreathed in the flames licking up a good portion of what remained of the rooftop. Without hesitating, HUNK, in short succession, rose and took aim with the Samurai Edge at each of his knee pads, red laser sight settling on them, and put a bullet in them, tearing up the metal. The Samurai Edge kicked in his hand twice, the muffled echo of the silencer emanating from the weapon and through the night. Nikolai grunted loudly and painfully as the blood poured out, and his legs collapsed out from under him, he heard the breaking of bone in his legs as the Monitor fell backwards heavily into a puddle, the used detonator rolling out of his hand. The puddle rapidly turning red. HUNK, with an unnatural calm that settled over him... ignored Carlos's anguished cries of disbelief and horror and cursing over the radio, and limped away from the deactivated elevator and the laptop attached to it. Moving down to what had been the middle of the rooftop... now fairly close to the edge of it... he stood over the writhing Monitor and reached down, seizing him by the throat and pulling him upright... forcing him to stand painfully on his shot out, broken, bleeding, swelling legs. He'd missed the arteries in his legs... but then... he hadn't been aiming for them. Holding him straight as the Monitor gasped and grunted for breath and at the pain, he looked back into the madman's bloodied, bruised, smiling features. Labored breaths painful, but continuous. Even now, the satisfaction could not be removed from the Russian's features... the victory.
"What... have you done?"
"What no other could. Broken you. Defeated you. I did not need to destroy the entire facility... with your whore down below... to shatter what remained of your spirit. Your hope. Merely the only means of escape. Elongating your suffering... instead of a simple, quick press of a switch ending your life and hers. Let it all burn... as the city does. Let us all burn. This is my favorite ending of all that might have been... perhaps. You thought you won... foolishly spared me... now everybody but me loses. I'm the only one... who is going to get what he wants this morning. Your undoing... and that of your companions... is your own fault. That of your false mercy. The weakness... she gave you."
His bloody smile deepened and his mad, icy blue eye danced. Taking pleasure even through the pain as he spoke with exertion. Feeding off it like a life force, keeping him going even now. HUNK's jaw tightened in the mask... thinking over what he was saying. The implications. Speaking them as well.
"You won't get out of here either. Won't get to escape... become a rich man... join your new master. You've thrown it all away... for nothing. Why?"
"Not for nothing. You think I care unconditionally... about the money or career... where you are concerned? How lowly you must have thought about me... over the years. How little. How arrogant... your living the high life in one castle or another has made you. Out of touch with others. What the rest of us say... and think about you. Another of your failures... underestimating me. It all could have turned... out so much differently... had you not been here. Had you not interrupted my plans. Had you accepted the generous offer. You were not... supposed to be here. But since you were here... the chance to prove myself your greater... was irresistible. Nor was I about to let you return me to the company... to do with me as they will. I am what I am. You are what you are. Now we die together for it..."
HUNK stared back at the Monitor in silence, chewing it over... watching him bleed and his smile, coughing up blood on his own vest. For all his mad babbling... HUNK had a finely tuned bullshit detector by now... and knew that he was telling the truth. And that he was more right than not. Somehow, he had underestimated the man... written him off. After all the years. All he had known of him. He had thought in the end it was about profits and getting his kicks... but somewhere along the line, he had come to care more about being the best. Or at least, better than HUNK. Even if it meant killing himself in a fit of madness like this one. He hadn't believed for a minute he was more important to the man than his own life... Nikolai was the only thing Nikolai cared about. Or that's what he had thought. No... he was genuinely crazy. Just like Vladimir and Ashford. Like Birkin and Wesker. Marcus and Spencer. The underlying madness permeating within Umbrella's corridors never changed... regardless of the mostly decent employees that occupied it. Most of them unaware of what they were part of. Nikolai was worse in some ways, perhaps. A mad dog, foaming at the mouth... rabid... in need of putting down. For his own sake as much as the world's. HUNK looked to the Samurai Edge... jaw tightening within the mask... and he knew what he had to do. What he should have the moment he stepped on to that train, and saw him in Raccoon City. He pressed the Beretta's silencer against the Monitor's' forehead... the red laser sight flashing against it as well. He stared back at the self satisfied bastard... breathing deeper, painfully, through the damaged gas mask.
"Ahhh... now that's more like it...", Nikolai grinned from ear to ear, burning eye glinting madly, flames reflecting in it, entirely unafraid. The opposite... he reveled in the prospect. This was what he had been waiting for. "Be who and what you are, Grim Reaper. Don't leave the job half done. Let mine be the final soul you claim. Let me die knowing you are broken. Defeated. No matter what you do... I win. So do it."
HUNK wondered why he had hesitated as long as he had. So many times he could have done this. If he had... it all would have been different. So many choices he'd been given... where he could have done something differently. Such a small thing... a mistake... leading to disaster. As it had been in Marcus's lab that day. And even when he tried to do the right thing it backfired on him. Well... there was one more right thing to do left. The only thing left that he could do. After that... it wouldn't matter what the consequences were. The consequences were already set into stone. The outcome. He couldn't make right his mistakes that had already been made... that had doomed them all... but he could correct them to the best of his abilities. In the only way he was good for.
Death.
He couldn't feel Bella's hand on his shoulder any longer, steadying him. Nor see her green eyes looking back at him... or hear her voice commanding him to relent. And he knew he was better off for that. She had held him back for too damn long. Confined him... to what she had wanted him to be. But... before he could squeeze down on the trigger, and watch the lunatic's blood, brains and pieces of his skull fly through the night... watch him fall at his feet last... he heard another's voice.
"HUNK!"
A young woman's loud, frantic voice broke over his radio instantly, seizing his attention... but not all of it. His heart beat quicker, and he kept her pistol pointed at the bastard's head. He did not answer her... didn't know what to say to her after his failure... felt too much shame to speak... but he didn't need to say a word. She spoke again almost at once.
"HUNK don't do it! He isn't worth it! It's what he wants you to do! To lose control! Don't give him what he wants! You are not what he says you are! What anyone says you are!"
"Why do you hesitate in what you have always wanted to do, Death?", Nikolai asked with genuine curiosity, looking back at him. His eye slowly rose over HUNK's shoulder and up towards the windows of the Control and Communication tower. Seeing what... who, he could not. Understanding dawning... eye visibly rolling with exasperation. "Ahhh... your little American whore... a washed up cop still pretending to have a badge... how she survived the Nemesis... I cannot fathom. I cannot hear her on your radio... but I hear her little needling voice whispering in your ear. Infecting you with her notions of law and order... petty morality. Weakening you. All your women thus far have... in one form or another..."
"Listen to me, HUNK. He has no chance. Look at him. He's pathetic, beaten... and he'll die soon anyways. But you don't have to kill him. You're better than him... in every way. You're a man, not a monster like him. A good man... not just a killer for Umbrella. You're a protector. You're a... my hero. You saved me. You can still be who you choose to be. You choose. Nobody else. It's over. We've killed enough. Been through enough. Let it end. Please. There's still time, HUNK. Precious little... but what time I have left belongs to you. And yours to me. Not to be wasted on him. Let it go."
Everything told him to pull the trigger... every instinct he had. His years of training. War forging him into a weapon of Death. Every mission he'd endured, survived and succeeded in. Everyone he had killed. Everything told him to do it. Everything... except for her. A voice that told him he was good... that he could still be better than he was. That he didn't have to kill. Didn't have to be cruel. That it could finally end. He wanted to kill Nikolai more than he wanted anything... except for what she offered. A way out. The image of her serene blue eyes replaced the alluring green pair he had long known. He wanted to believe he was who she thought he was. Not the Umbrella henchman he really was. Not what Bella had made him. She was... the only truly good thing left in his life, now. Someone. And he had only met her days ago. Someone not like him in the bad ways. Someone who hadn't used him... and didn't want to discard him. Who had been honest with him from the start... and still was, after he had been dishonest to her. Someone who hadn't let her past... her traumatic experiences in it... decay her spirit... as he had. Who held on to what made her good... even tighter than before... not discarding it to be what someone else wanted her to be. Someone who had tried to save Sherry Birkin from that station... that ventilation shaft, while she cowered in fear of him, called him what he was, a murderer. Someone who had tried to save Captain Viktor from his fate on that final train ride... and the nameless Delta Force operator in the treatment room corridor. People she hadn't even known. Someone who had talked him down from a firefight HUNK had desired.
He wanted that for himself... he now knew. Wanted to be like her. And now... at least until morning... he still had one last chance to be.
And it wouldn't take any more effort than a movement of his hand to attain.
Finally... he slowly, reluctantly lowered the Samurai Edge from the Monitor's head... lowering it back down to his side. Drawing a low, pained, muffled breath through the mask, and not looking away from the Monitor he continued to keep upright. Filtering out the rage that had swollen through the agent... and instead seeing his enemy for what he was. No longer hating him. Not wasting any further intense feelings upon him... no longer validating his madness. Nikolai's icy blue eye looked between him and the tower, immediately deeply disappointed and contemptuous... understanding the decision that had been made. Despising it. The disgusted venom returning to his voice, as it had before.
"Not a company man after all... but Valentine's man through and through... to the end. On the side of the law. Sickeningly sweet. A pity. But you win some... you lose some. I am content... having won far more in this city than you. I want you to know... I have no regrets. For any of it. It was always going to happen this way, with us... though it could have been in the future. After finding the success and freedom we were owed. We could have worked together... been something more. Greater. But your will... or lack of it... imposed otherwise. It always does. I'm going to enjoy watching you, at the end. As the world breaks around you... us. As you fail your mission... are torn from your new, precious beloved. The firestorm descending upon us. Incinerating you... becoming ash... blowing away on the wind. The legend finally dying. As all things must. Memento Mori, Death."
Summoning the last of his reserve of strength, the Monitor promptly and spitefully spat up blood all over the U.S.S. Agent's mask. Smiling a red, defiant smile. It dripped and ran down the red reflective lens... the rain gradually washing it off. The Monitor looked back at himself in the remaining lens... and HUNK made sure the reflection was the last thing he saw. Himself as he was, at the end. Bleeding and broken.
"You won't... be watching anything. Goodbye... Nikolai."
Drawing his head back, HUNK responded by slamming his battle scarred helmet sharply against the Monitor's face with all he had... breaking his nose in a muffled crunch against the metal, and knocking him out cold in a single blow. His remaining eye rolled back in his head and closed... the blood oozing and running from his face. Grip on the Monitor's throat tightening, HUNK unceremoniously threw him behind himself to the rooftop in a bloody, murky puddle... and didn't spare the defeated, silent and still madman another look or thought. She spoke again in his ear at last with slow, steady relief. Clarity. He felt her calming him with her voice alone. And he desired her touch again... to lose himself in it. To shut out the rest of the world... his failures, and the consequences of them.
"Good... that's good. Thank you, HUNK. Now please... restore power to the elevator, so I can come down there. I want to be with you, again. We can watch the sunrise together. Take a moment for ourselves. Think we earned that much, by now."
"I would... like that..."
His low voice agreed with her at last, though forced himself not to look up at her in the broken window of the Control and Communications Tower... feeling a deepening shame over the pain and exhaustion. From the bottom of his being. He had failed her... failed everything. Now he had to live with it... at least until dawn. Tucking the Samurai Edge into his holster, he stepped over Nikolai's body and moved with all the energy he had left down towards the backpack and laptop in its safety case again. Limping painfully all the way. Forcing himself on and not to collapse again. Reaching the laptop, he looked at all the programs Nikolai had left running on screen. A number of recordings as well. A distant part of him wished there were time to examine it all... the part that hadn't realized he was already a dead man. It was smothered by the prospect of watching the sunrise with her. It didn't matter anymore. As he took his final breaths... somehow, he had never felt more alive. Tapping the activation button, he powered the elevator back up from the laptop... then he went over to the cable attached to the elevator's breaker box and pulled it out, fully reactivating the system. Restoring control to the tower, and slamming shut the lid of the breaker box.
He glanced to the elevator, watching it light up again... as someone hit the call button, the elevator rumbling and rising up the tower towards her. As it did, HUNK turned his back to it, marching back out into the rain and past Nikolai... going over to what remained of the western side of the railing... the edge of the devastated, flaming rooftop. Looking back out over it, down to the infested streets... the trees, the distant lands... the now unoccupied Quarantine Zone, and rest of the city beyond. The barricades and guard towers of the abandoned Quarantine Zone remained up and formidable, holding back the infected pressing up against them... steel, affixed barriers and concrete... plenty to keep them amassed at the barricades long enough for the missile. Trautmann had done a hell of a job, at least. Nothing would escape Raccoon City now. Including them. Raising his hand to his radio, he knew what he had to do before the end... and wanted to set his affairs in order. Get it out of the way, so his final minutes could be his own. He switched to the right comm channel... lowering his gloved hand again to the railing, gripping it firmly as he spoke into the radio.
"NIGHTHAWK... this is HUNK. You've seen on the satellite already, I take it. It's over. The helicopter has been destroyed, by Nikolai. There is no possible escape remaining. Inform Sir Maxwell I have failed Operation: NESTWRECKER."
"Like hell you have. I'm almost done refueling, I'm going to take off from the Leviathan and fly you the hell out. Fuck Vladimir's orders. The government's no fly order has been rescinded as well. All government forces have pulled back outside Raccoon City. Not likely to try to shoot me down."
"There's no time... we both know that. You're too far away. Even if you got here, there wouldn't be enough time to escape the blast radius. No sense in dying with me for nothing. Got a career and life to think about. Family on the outside. I do not."
There was a silence on the line from the gruff voice... and he knew NIGHTHAWK had already reached the same conclusion as him. They all had. They had access to the satellite feed. Likely they had all watched and recorded the entire thing. It wouldn't have surprised him. There was no way left out of this. It had finally happened, he had failed his mission... spectacularly... but a failure all the same. He heard the rumbling of the elevator then as she began her descent to join him... he heard it reach the rooftop, the elevator doors beeping and parting far behind him on the roof. The mockingly upbeat elevator music pouring out of it, before the doors eventually closed again and cut it off. As they did, the normally rock solid, grim man on the other line at last spoke in a conflicted, hesitant manner.
"HUNK... I...-"
"Yeah. I know. This is war. Survival was my responsibility. My failure, NIGHTHAWK, not yours. Remember that."
"Fearless to the end of the line, huh? Figured. Guess some of the Rockfort Island fellas won the dead pool, in the end."
"Well... someone had to win. Not like I was ever leaving this life. Retiring. Was starting to think it'd be you who would. More irritated this will give Vladimir something to gloat about. Getting his way again. You'll see how long he's laughing, though. A lot of people will be gunning for him... when the dust settles."
"Heh. Always could find the silver lining. You're right. Reckon his number will come up soon. If not soon enough."
Another silence took the radio, and HUNK listened to the moans far below... watched the burning city he had struggled through and failed to escape. His final resting spot... a stranger in a strange land. The rain pouring around him. The distant Arklay Mountains where it all had started. Where he had begun this life of his, in a lab beneath an abandoned Umbrella School, pulling a trigger on an insane old man. And he looked to the sky over both... the distant sun getting closer to rising. Nikolai had been right about one thing. It was a strangely peaceful view... at least now that the madness and chaos had abated. Now that death approached for all, guaranteed and irresistible, a specter draping itself over them. Why he should feel resolution and turmoil at the same time... he did not know. He had come to want to die, over his time with Umbrella... after Bella had left... but had been unable to. Had always succeeded, even as so many others had fell around him. Fell to him. Now he could die... and it... made him uneasy. He didn't know if he still wanted it anymore. He should have been at peace on the eve of his death... but he felt a growing, cold dread coiling in his insides... that he hadn't felt in years. He was not fearless to the end, he recognized. He was fearful at the end. He heard her boots tapping on the rooftop further behind him, leaving the elevator area. NIGHTHAWK's solemn voice returned over the line, then.
"HUNK... Jack... was there... anything you wanted me to do? To say to anyone?"
"Yes, Brock. Tell Director Henri I regret my failure. I wasn't good enough. That I have appreciated her support. Appreciated everything. She was there when I needed her. Give my regards to SHIPMASTER... tell him it's been an honor. And to the old man. Was looking forward to that Battle Suit he was never going to get around to anyways. To Doctor Radames and FLY GIRL as well. They're young but talented. Will go far in the future."
"Would you like to speak to any of them? I can patch you through."
"No. No sense dragging it out for them. And... I've already promised the time I have left to another."
Another silence returned to the line at that, for a few moments. And when the pilot spoke again at last, it was with an uncomfortable hesitation that hadn't been there moments ago. But a need to speak the words aloud, before the end.
"And... Bella? What should I tell her, Jack? I'll go to her. She'll... want to know. The kids too... I mean... at least if...-"
"Nothing that needs to be said, Brock. And certainly not by me or you.", HUNK interrupted him, jaw tightening painfully within the mask at his friend's train of thought. His concerns. Voicing something the two of them had never spoken of before together. Appreciating them, but needing to pause for a moment, with deepening, bitter regret, before finding the rest of his words and speaking as calmly as before. "We said all that had to be years ago, at Rockfort Island. What's done is done. And likely she already knows. Is watching. You and the others stayed with me, supported my missions, aided me to the end... as she did not. Made these past years bearable. It was more than I deserved. Thank you for that. For everything. Helping show me the ropes."
"Don't owe me any gratitude, man. Working together has been good enough. Pulled each other's boots out of the fire more than once.", The U.S.S. veteran's normally grizzled voice returned more quietly in return. Speaking with a difficulty HUNK had seldom, if ever, heard before. Disconcertment. Regret of his own at the necessity of the situation. "Been a hell of a ride... hasn't it?"
"The best."
"Even in death... your legend will only grow from here. Outlive you. You will be remembered, Jack. Have my word on that."
"I think I'd sooner be forgotten. Finally allowed to rest. It's over. Good luck and goodbye, NIGHTHAWK. Watch the skies. I will be. Agent HUNK, over and out."
He turned off the comm channel at last... looking out to the west, he switched off the entire radio in his suit for good measure. Likely U.S.S. Command would wish to contact him, when they found out. Sir Maxwell or Director Henri. Eating up his final minutes alive for nothing... an unsalvageable mission. NIGHTHAWK would have to suffice for them. He had filed his final report... but it wasn't them he dreaded having explain himself to if they called. He didn't know how he was going to explain himself to someone more important. His failure... it had been easy to say it to NIGHTHAWK... to pass on to U.S.S. Command. It was different with her. Having to look into those eyes... and admit he had succeeded where the Nemesis and Nikolai... where the entire city and Spencer Mansion had failed. He had killed her. Killed them all. But he had to own it... having done it. There was no other choice. He owed her that much... the truth. He thought of them all... those aboard the Leviathan. Of Comtesse Henri... and of Lady Spencer as well. Of her children, at NIGHTHAWK's reminder of them. He felt deep, shameful regret... but deeper still the futility of feeling regret now. It was too late anyways. Had been for years. Especially so now. And for all he knew, they were of no connection to him anyways. Regardless of what he believed or not... what was likely or unlikely. He simply didn't know... so it wasn't worth thinking about... not at the end of his life. They didn't even know he existed... and were better off for it. He let all the faces of the past, and the three blurry children's faces he'd never known but had dreamed of... fade away. He heard her muttering bitterly under her breath to the unconscious Nikolai, as she rolled him over on his front and slapped her hand cuffs on his wrists, locking them into place, shackling him. Lips threatening to smile, even now, at what he heard her say.
And he heard her rise... her boots tapping and scraping on the concrete slowly... splashing through the puddles, nearing him. Coming to join him at the railing. Finally, heart beating quicker, ignoring the pain and exhaustion all over... he forced himself to turn on the spot and look at her.
To own up to his guilt. It was the least he could do, now. It was all he could do.
The elevator rumbled through her as it began its descent... through her heart and soul. The inappropriately upbeat tempo of the elevator music mocking her the entire time. She looked down at her watch, to the seconds ticking away to the end... of her entire world. She should have been grieving... tearing her hair out over their imminent deaths... the knowledge of their doom... the fact she would not get to speak to her father again, her friends, her team safely outside the city... waiting for her to come to them. Waiting in vein. But she felt a strange peace instead. A reverie. An acceptance, that Carlos up in the tower, had not. Continuing to try to reach someone for help the moment HUNK rerouted manual control back to the tower's system. All she knew was she wanted to see him... be with him, at the end. The Nemesis was already a million miles away at that prospect. It was dead, and there were no threats left to fight. They had already won in that way at least. Earned a peaceful moment before the end. She was free now, at least... of all the burdens and responsibilities. Able to just be herself, when the end approached. Could be herself with him. Ignoring the pain and exhaustion. Finally, the elevator came to a stop and beeped... the metal doors opened, the cold air washing over her at once, goosebumps raising and she looked back out into the rain to the rooftop... to the far part of it that hadn't fallen away burning. Electric light and fire light washing over the area, lifting a number of the shadows. Breathing in the cold air seemed to rejuvenate her a bit further... and she looked to the laptop that had been connected to the breaker box... its cord left on the ground, and the unzipped backpack next to it. She felt a curiosity towards the laptop... what the Monitor had gathered over the course of his time here... but in the end, it didn't matter anymore. There were many questions that would soon die... at least for her.
Jill looked to the middle of the rooftop strewn with flaming metal pieces of the destroyed Apache, to where the Monitor's body lie, broken and defeated. And to the one who had done it thoroughly. The U,S,S, Agent stood over by the railing at the edge of the western side of the rooftop, dark, weathered armored uniform framed by the firelight... his back to her. Speaking over his radio to his contact. She did not eavesdrop... instead she looked back to the unconscious Monitor, and stepped out of the elevator. The doors closed behind her, mercifully shutting away the mockery of the music. She started forward, past the laptop and backpack and breaker box slowly, limping towards the middle of the remaining rooftop. Taking her time. Boots tapping across the concrete to carry out one final duty as a cop. Reaching him, she knelt carefully, painfully, beside the battered Russian madman. With a grunt of effort, she rolled him over... taking his broken arm and intact one and pinning them behind his back. She reached for her handcuffs and unhooked them from her belt, slapping them on to both wrists and locking them tightly into place. Taking silent note of his brutalized, mutilated condition, the blood streaming from the spot his eye had resided. Face puffing up, swollen purple at various points. Almost unrecognizable. It unnerved her how calculated the mutilation had been from the U.S.S. Agent... not instinctive, or spur of the moment. It wasn't like the way she had tried to stab the Monitor for threatening her and her team with a bomb. It was thought out. It was personal. Awful as it was... as troubling as the violence HUNK could commit so easily was... if anyone in the world could earn treatment like this... the sociopathic Monitor had earned it and then some. Anger flickered inside her at the sight of the slowly, raggedly breathing silver haired monster in human flesh... as grotesque as the Nemesis. Worse in different ways. Had succeeded where even the Nemesis had failed in the end. Yet no less defeated and deserving his fate than the abomination had been.
Almost pitiful... at the end.
The sight of his shattered nose heartened her, a tired smile twitching upon her lips, shaking her head slowly. And she began reading him his rights, now that she had finally booked him. Now that justice had finally caught up with him... however long it had taken.
"You have the right to remain bleeding and silent, asshole. Anything and everything you say and have said will be used against you in a court of law... or would be, if we weren't about to be incinerated because of you. Looks like you've had better days to me. Probably wishing I had stabbed you, from where I'm standing."
She got no response... and it was just as well. He had wasted enough of their time. Without hesitation, drawing up what was left of her saliva, she spat on him spitefully. Ignoring the temptation that occurred to kick him while he was down... she would not let him win by making her cruel like him. Difficult as it was not to be after everything he had done to them. Their imminent deaths on his hands. Instead she turned her back on him as the man who defeated him had done... looking to someone far more important to her. Far more worth her time and emotion.
His armored, masked, helmeted figure remained by the railing... having finished up with his call to NIGHTHAWK, his muffled voice falling silent as he looked out through the rain into the night, over the devastated city. She limped down slowly towards him through the downpour, making herself heard... and he gradually turned back to face her at last. His bodysuit and armor damaged and worn, soaked, the prominent deep scratches and dents standing out across his helmet and mask, each heavily battered as well. His left mask lens had been broken in the fight, a few small red shards remaining around its circumference... and there was a bleeding wound in his right collar and shoulder, the suit and armor there torn, bloodied, mutilated flesh exposed. She looked down to her own body... the rain was gradually washing away the blood on her that hadn't stained her stained top already... it ran down her legs and made the water below her boots murky. Jill went to him, joining him closely at the rail... reaching up and touching his masked face, drawing his gaze down to her. In the light around the rooftop... and that of the distant rising sun drawing closer... she looked into his shattered lens at last. A single steely, piercing, striking grey eye below a narrowed dark blonde brow looked back out at her from within it... but the steel in it was calmed at her touch. Her close proximity. The narrowed brow relaxing slowly. She felt his gloved hand settle on her waist gently, arm wrapping around it and drawing her closer against himself. Jill couldn't hold back her smile at the sight of his true gaze... the man beneath it all... the way he looked at her... who had been hiding away all along. Murmuring to him softly, smile not receding in the slightest.
"There you are..."
The man behind the mask not speak for a moment, nor take his eye within the lens off her. There was a conflict and pain in that eye as well... it was expressive... it would have been easier to read him sooner if she had seen it sooner, she was certain. Or maybe it was only because of everything that had happened... and because it was her he was with. The effect she had on him. Likely he was much more closely guarded at other times, to other people. She wondered how he had looked at her from the rooftops of the R.P.D... when he had first seen her... or how he had looked at her when they shook hands and made their deal there. She wished she had seen his gaze sooner... but was glad she could, at the end. Finally, he found his low, muffled voice through the mask... and she knew he was trying to hide the pain from her. His condition. To sound as stoic and self assured as ever.
"Where is Oliveira?"
"Not giving up. He activated the radio at the tower, is putting out a distress call. Trying to reach someone. Even now."
"Of course he is."
"That looks bad...", She murmured softly, turning her and his attention to his shoulder. Looking over the deep, bloody wound there, where a blade had been inserted and twisted. She released a low breath, and reached for the strap of Rebecca's white medical bag, removing it. "Hold still... it's my turn to take care of you."
He didn't say anything... didn't point out the obvious futility and stupidity of treating him in light of the looming missile strike... instead he merely obeyed, retracted his arm from around her and stood there before her. Nodding in assent. She took the time to retrieve some swabs from the bag and clean the wound's area... before retrieving the health spray bottle within the bag. She sprayed the area of the wound... followed it up by retrieving some mixed red and green herbs and placing them on the wet wound. For good measure she sprayed the area again and applied bandages... both under the suit over the wound, and over the ripping of his bodysuit to keep out the rain, an extra layer. She wound a few layers of the white gauze from his shoulder and wrapped it around his vest, making sure the bandage at his shoulder was extra secure and taut. It was a method she had watched Rebecca use, and she murmured to him and herself with a faint smile as she worked.
"Whatever am I going to do with you? Always getting yourself hurt playing hero. I know, I know... pot meet kettle. Guess I'm starting to rub off on you..."
Although it took up more gauze, it secured the bandaging tightly into place, so neither rain nor movement could remove it. Through it all he didn't make a sound or say a word... that steady grey eye and reflective red lens simply watched her work... and she glanced to it now and again, unable to help herself. Smiling at him. Over it all the rain poured around them... the infected moaned up at them from the streets... and the fires burned on all the rubble and debris that had broken off the rooftop and fallen down below. But all she really saw and felt was him. For him. The Nemesis may as well have not even ever existed any longer, nor Nikolai, even bleeding and unconscious as he was right behind them. Finally, she finished up, tucking away the gauze and bottle, the remaining herbs in the packet, and closing up Rebecca's medical bag, fastening the white strap across her opposite shoulder again. Looking back up into her patient's eye with a tired smile on her bruised, soaked face.
"There we go. I'm not quite at your doctor's level when it comes to medical know how... but that should do it. Sorry, don't have a lollipop for being a good patient."
"Thank you... Jill."
"Don't need to thank me. We look out for each other... remember? But you're welcome."
Another enigmatic silence returned between them... not uncomfortable, but different from usual. One in which she took his gloved hands into hers. Fingers intertwining together. Together they stood there in the rain and firelight... she felt the cool droplets running through her soaked hair and down her bruised, aching, swelling face. Soothing it partially. And yet even on the eve of Raccoon City's destruction... she couldn't not smile through the pain. She felt... at peace... it was done. Irreversible. There would be no more struggle or pain. And she could be here with him when it happened. No more fighting or killing left to do. She was quite tired of it all. She no longer had to wage war on Umbrella... others would take up her sword for her... the company had no shortage of enemies, especially once the missile struck. Their days were already numbered. It was almost a relief to lose the burden of the monolithic company, implacable enemy, she had been carrying on her shoulders since the Spencer Mansion. A silver lining to the situation, as little of it as there was to be had. Her peace with the situation was not shared by the visible conflict of his troubled grey eye that watched her from within the damaged mask. It took him some time as she waited... but he found his voice again and broke the silence again quietly.
"The Nemesis. You did it. I... wish I had been down there. I should have been."
"So do I. Wish I'd been up here as well. Not that it looks like you needed as much assistance as I did.", Jill returned with a smile, nodding her head slightly in the defeated Nikolai's direction, not bothering to spare the repugnant Monitor a glance. "Defeated your monster too, just like I did. Son of a bitch never stood a chance."
"No... not quite like you did. He won all the same. It's my fault... Jill."
"For what?"
"Killing you. If I had just killed him... this could have all been avoided. Instead he got his way. It's Birkin all over again..."
"Yes. It is just like Birkin. Birkin contaminated this city, not you. And Nikolai destroyed the helicopter, not you. You haven't killed me. You've fought and struggled for me... protected me. Risked your life countless times for me. Saved me. You've made me feel alive again since we met. A way I never thought I'd feel again, after the Arklay Mountains. You're a good man, HUNK, and I'm proud of you. Happy to have met you. You won here... not Nikolai."
"What did I win for us? Death. Nothing more. I'm not the man you think I am at home, Jill. At Umbrella. Don't remember if I ever really was to begin with or not. Who I was. Why I let myself become... this. What the hell I've done with my life... my choices. All I know is death... and it just makes everything worse eventually. I've failed. Failed you... Oliveira... failed my mission. Failed myself. Broke my promises. Couldn't keep them."
"You tried. It's more than most people do.", She quietly repeated his old words back to him from the apartment with a faint, knowing smile, her fingers intertwining with his tighter. She saw him look that grey eye between their joined hands, before meeting her own steady gaze again. Reassuring him as best as she could. "And you learned a thing or two, before the end. About life. About yourself. That's all we can do... our best. Trial and error. Learn gradually from our mistakes. Wouldn't expect you or anyone to change overnight. Not even after all this. We are shaped by lifetimes, more often than we are by a few eventful days. But no more of that. Please. No blaming yourself. What's done is done. I don't want to die on that dour note. Let's enjoy the time we have left. Together."
"I'd... I'd like that... it's more than I deserve..."
"It's the least of what you've earned."
She contradicted him quietly. Holding his hands, she drew him over closer to the railing... releasing one hand and keeping the other intertwined with his. She rested her head on his good shoulder gently, wrapping her arm around his waist and feeling his protectively wrap around her as well. She closed her eyes a moment, enjoying the closeness... even in all the pain, she felt she could fall asleep while standing up, in the comfort of his embrace. And was certainly exhausted enough to. But sleep would come for them soon enough... and she wanted the time she had left to be spent awake. In case they didn't get to meet again on the other side... whatever awaited them. Gradually opening her eyes again, she peered out to the west... not to the burning, devastated city... but the horizon beyond. Where more light was gradually coming through the rain. From beyond the Arklay Mountains where her nightmare had begun... standing now in Raccoon City, where it was going to end. Already had ended... along with her fear. She breathed a low, contented sigh... and with him, not feeling as much of the pain and exhaustion any longer. Not really.
"Hmm. You know... I don't remember the last time I simply watched a sunrise... really appreciated it. I should have watched it the morning we escaped the Spencer Mansion... but I was exhausted... slept on the chopper ride home instead. The best sleep I ever had... but I still regret that."
"I... remember the last time I did. 1994. The morning after New Year's Eve. An island in the South Pacific. Tropical. I was on the beach. Alone. In a warm place with no memory. Rare moment where I thought of absolutely nothing, of what was, had been or would be. Watched the golden light on the water. Would have spent the rest of my life there, if I could have. In that tranquility. Would have never picked up a gun again. But... I prefer watching this one... with you. I would have liked to be able to remember this sunrise instead."
"Quiet romantic to the end. Still waters run the deepest. Knew there was a reason I liked you so much. Besides the voice, attitude, badass monster slayer thing, damn good kissing, a nice firm ass and now grey eyes on top of it. Didn't realize mysterious bad boy special forces operatives with a hidden soft center were my thing, you know. My type. At least I got to find out before it was too late. Rebecca would have laughed at me if she found out, I'm sure. Never let me live it down."
The agent... her agent... no... her soldier, made a sharp sudden sound that might have been a laugh... and she chuckled as well. Couldn't help herself. Liked making him make that sound. Doubting it often emerged in his life at Umbrella, before they had met. He turned them a bit to face one another... both arms wrapping around her and holding her. Hands trailing gently along her bare back comfortingly. She held him right back around his waist, looking back up into that now more relaxed, almost content grey eye and her peaceful reflection in the red lens.
"I can think of worse ways to go than this. Just wish you hadn't had to use that last Molotov Cocktail. Would have appreciated a nice drink to top it off.", She murmured a touch wryly, leaning in and nuzzling against his shoulder. Enjoying his touches... their embrace. Wishing it could always be this way... hoping that it would be, when they made their next journey together. "Why couldn't we have met sooner? Under better conditions? Circumstances?"
"Had we met under any other circumstances... we would have killed each other. Like you said in the courtyard."
"Heh. Oh yeah... right. Good point. I'll take this one, in that case. Warts and all."
"Life is funny that way. You met me at a very strange time in my life. Made it even stranger."
"Didn't exactly plan for you myself. Makes two of us there, at least."
"Yes... it does."
"Made a hell of a team at least... didn't we? Making it this far, together. Everything we accomplished."
"We did. Nobody I'd rather it all have been with, Jill."
Jill pressed closer against his side at those rare sentimental words from the man, her smile deepening, and together they remained that way comfortably for a long moment. One that seemed to last forever. Then one of his hands retracted from her, and she looked back up at him again to see what he was doing. The gloved hand began to move to the straps on his helmet and gas mask. She felt her pulse quickening, as she understood at once, as he nodded very slightly. Confirming her thoughts. His hands took the straps and began to adjust them accordingly. Loosening them. Preparing to slip free of the obscuring mask and helmet... just for her. On his own terms. His own choice. Trusting her with all of himself. His identity. Her pulse quickened further still in anticipation as that grey eye looked back at her... waiting for the moment she had been hoping for to happen.
And then her radio blared loudly to life, a frantic, unmistakable accented young man's voice washing over them.
"Jill, HUNK! Stop the lovey dovey shit for a second and pick up! Now! This is important!"
HUNK's gloved hand froze where it was on the helmet's strap at the voice... the two of them looking down at the radio the voice had emanated from... and he released a low, muffled sound of irritation. The moment broken, his hand lowered back to her again, gripping her firmly instead. Jill sighed with frustration of her own at the interruption, and picked up the radio, speaking into it. Looking over and up to the Control and Communications Tower, to the green and black uniformed and armored figure standing up there looking back down at them. The Corporal was waving his hands their way, no less. Frantically as his voice was. Not taking her eyes off him, she spoke again calmly into the radio.
"Carlos... it's over. You should come down here and join us. We should all be together, at the end. As a team. We're going to watch the sunrise."
"What do you mean it's over? It ain't over until I say it is, Supercop! The sight seeing can wait! You and Secret Agent Man get your asses back up here, now! And grab that psychotic bastard down there if you have to... or leave him for all I care, either way! I'll explain when you get up here! Hurry! We don't have much time left!"
Jill, quite startled at the words, looked back up into HUNK's equally puzzled eye. He merely shrugged his good and injured shoulders back at her slightly, lifting his own gaze up towards the Control and Communications Tower. She spoke into the radio again with growing curiosity, raising a brow as she studied the figure in the tower with confusion.
"Carlos... what's happened? What is it?"
"Hope."
What else could it be, Carlos? ;) I don't do hopeless endings.
For HUNK's fight with Nikolai, perhaps it might have seemed a touch anti climactic, not nearly as long as the Nemesis one, but that's the point. It's a more multi layered conflict/fight between two humans. With more themes and dynamics at play. I didn't want to turn it into the over extended fight from 'They Live' (classic as it is lol). Even in his state, despite the struggle, he is simply that much better than Nikolai, outclasses him by far. Nikolai's strength lies in his cruel, inventive cunning and unpredictability, working a situation he is in into his favor, psychological warfare too, so I honored their respective differing strengths for their confrontation. HUNK is weakened, in no small part thanks to all the shit Nikolai put him through to wear him down, has some close calls, but dominates the fight when it comes down to it. If he had been in perfect condition, he would have ripped Nikolai apart in well under a minute, because he is the best at what he does, and they both know that. Yet despite being defeated, Nikolai promptly 'wins' the fight by fighting the way he has from the start: fighting dirty. And taking advantage of HUNK's underestimating how personal Nikolai's hatred of him was that he would throw everything away to take him down with him straight to hell, the sheer pettiness. A fatal flaw I see to HUNK is underestimating an enemy in a certain way, human enemies, and what depths they will sink to to 'win' in their own minds. Not taking most of them seriously enough. Because frankly... he doesn't understand most people very well, is rather socially stunted, and doesn't even see Nikolai as a nemesis of his. More a growing annoyance and rival he doesn't pay much attention to nor respect. Nikolai got his attention in this chapter at last. He misjudged Nikolai, and also while in his exhaustion, not in his right mind, and prioritizing getting rid of those samples in an attempt at some atonement for the G-Virus, allowed him a chance to recover enough, and then there is also his wanting Nikolai to suffer, and to use him as leverage against Colonel Vladimir. 'Mercy' has consequences.
There were many character layers and factors between the two men I wanted to be present in this showdown, instead of boiling it down to the fist fight alone, awesome as they are. And of course moral cop Jill swooping in at the last moment, the only one caring for HUNK's humanity, his shoulder angel. It's not about what Nikolai deserves to her, but what's right and best for HUNK. She cares more about his wellbeing than Nikolai's suffering. She wants to show him that Umbrella (Lady Spencer) was wrong, that he isn't Death, but is a man. All in all it didn't seem right to me to kill off Nikolai in this story, who doesn't die in the canon but escapes Raccoon City on a helicopter... and Capcom promptly forgot about him. I wanted him to live and honor canon in that respect, but to pay the hefty price he deserves to pay but didn't in the games. Poetic justice. More of that to come ;). I see him dying at some point before the events of Resident Evil 5.
"Colonel Vladimir has father issues!" -U.S.S. Special Agent Mother Issues. Lol. Enjoy playing with personal character dynamics and blindspots, HUNK ain't immune to them. Nikolai made some very good points, in his way, I wanted him to, an outside view, even if a biased and vile one, looking at HUNK's messed up situation and telling him how it is. Things HUNK knows deep down and has tried to ignore or repress. The man is damaged goods, thanks to Umbrella, specifically Lady Spencer. Sure she saved his life, but her and her father's company is the reason he was a test subject in the first place. And she has absolutely abused him, regardless of her motives, bringing him into that world, and what they shared. She's not as bad as her father, but that really isn't saying a whole hell of a lot, is it? Low bar.
The way I see it there were three primary stages for HUNK's character when he became an agent. He started out the innocent, good guy, awkward, nice rookie who threw up over killing people, didn't want to hurt anyone but wanted to please Lady Spencer... a Naked Snake type. Well trained for years, but there is a difference between training and actually killing somebody and undertaking missions. Then he became steadily what TV Tropes calls the 'Arrogant Kung Fu Guy' trope the better at it and more used to the killing he got, the more he excelled in his training and expertise, becoming more cruel, hot blooded, and enjoying hurting others, drunk on the power, position and 'love' Lady Spencer was supplying. Or overdosing him with, really. Becoming what he was certain she wanted him to be. I've talked about how HUNK, Wesker and Colonel Vladimir are sort of potential Darth Vader candidates to Lord Spencer's Emperor, or were in consideration, that Wesker didn't want that position (though ultimately is by RE 5, becoming a puppet successor of Lord Spencer's exact mad Utopian vision for the world even after the old man's death), Colonel Vladimir did. HUNK wanted to be Lady Spencer's Darth Vader, not Lord Spencer's, if she had been able to take over the company, displace her lunatic father. Her at the top, HUNK as her primary go to guy, enforcer. He would have gone into straight up villainy instead of complicated Anti-Villainy if she had ascended. Then after she left him he turned cold and became more of a reserved professional in the time since. It was the shock to his system he never saw coming, never thought she would leave him. He required it to become the cool, distant, emotionally reserved badass HUNK we know and love in the present. And all in all, her leaving him was good for him despite how painful it was. Theirs is a very important character defining relationship to HUNK, but it is a very unhealthy one as well, obviously. Her leaving forced him to start reconsidering things, he got a reality check, pulled his head out of his love drunk deluded state, seeing where he was, what he had become, who he served, turned him more embittered about Umbrella, kickstarting that character and moral growth... or at least creating enough doubt that Jill was able to swoop in and start working at healing the years of abuse Umbrella and Lady Spencer inflicted on him. And steer him towards a fourth, more moral character stage gradually. Baby steps.
Though he starts reverting slightly back to the younger less disciplined him when pushed to his limits or finally properly incensed by something, as you see here with Nikolai. When his self restraint and control slips, you see why he has it. I wanted his spark of cruelty to remain, because you don't serve in something like Umbrella in his capacity as an assassin as long as you do without having it, even as a seemingly icy professional. Figured Nikolai deserved a cruder version of the Pai Mei maneuver from HUNK. HUNK is a scary, intimidating, violent man and a villain still, complicated and layered or not, who likes killing and hurting, he's good at it, it's all he's good at, and deep down he despises that too, a struggle with himself. Especially as he develops as a character and his humanity comes out, especially thanks to Jill. I wanted to remind the reader to give them the sense of "Oh shit, this what the motherfucker is really like and what he does." When you set aside the cool factor to him and the sympathy I've built up for him, even if the bastard he's doing it to deserves it, HUNK is a thug and a murderer. Just a very talented one, and sympathetic, especially in Raccoon City. In my experience you aren't an introvert without possessing great fiery passion, which is HUNK, ice on the surface to try to cope with the fiery emotions burning deep inside, always fighting himself, not wanting to frighten away those he cares about with it. He fears nobody else can handle it, the real him, and feels alone as such. Why he holds most people at arms length. Part of him is certain that's why he lost Lady Spencer. That he screwed up and scared her off. It's also why Jill is different, because she can handle him... and he's coming to realize he can be more himself with her, unlike with other ladies. Less on guard. That he can trust her genuinely.
Figured it was time to supply HUNK's real name, felt like the appropriate moment to reveal it to the audience. I debated over whether to give him one for a long time, but eventually decided he had earned that much, we spent enough time with him, seeing his developing humanity and struggle. It felt like the perfect moment to reveal it to the audience, with his bro NIGHTHAWK, when they believe all is lost. Dropping a bit of the guard of their professionalism and just talking a bit as two men who have worked together a long time and respect one another. And I wanted Jill seeing dat eye of course, the window to his soul, his humanity she saw early on beyond the faceless death machine image. I shattered the red lens symbolically to demonstrate his split between her 'blue' world and Umbrella's 'red' world. He steadily damaged and weakened that lens over the course of fighting to protect her, in the clock tower courtyard, the drawbridge and on that rooftop, doing good instead of evil. He's not entirely free of Umbrella's hold, but the man who has been sleeping for years is awake again. Time will tell what kind of man he really is.
The title comes from the Latin, Memento Mori: "Remember that you must die." An important theme to HUNK's story, character and title of course. He never really thought he was going to die, or thought much about it or cared if he did or not. Didn't fear the reaper, already being it. Now he has tasted the fear of death for the first time, the idea of failing and not being with Jill, losing her. Fears death, because he finally found someone to stay alive for beyond the mission. Even if they make it, it's something that will stay with him.
Coming up... our heroes make their final flight ;).
