Their Last Escape

by antihero276

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

47. Chapter 46: The Leviathan

Lord Reyne: Glad to hear you enjoyed it, and I'm looking forward to depicting Umbrella, that world and HUNK's role in it, have been for awhile.

Spot on. Capcom is just slapping the Resident Evil brand name on to Village for profit and brand recognition. It isn't Resident Evil any longer in anything but name. Such a shame really, the path the series has taken. I thought there would be hope with how good the RE 2 Remake was, that they finally figured their shit out and were getting back to the basics. Then the RE 3 Remake came out, now Village approaches. They didn't learn a damn thing. Alas. Oh well, still have my fan fiction stories, where I can keep doing what they should have. Instead of wasting their universe and the potential.

Thank you kindly, friend.

nliochristou: Yes he is, the very same GHOST, and he will play a decent role in my universe. The primary protagonist/POV of the upcoming short story I've written. I have also combined GHOST with a certain other 'character' in the Resident Evil universe, similar to how I combined HUNK with one of the agents who gunned down James Marcus in RE 0. It just seemed fitting. But more on that when we get to that story ;). Already looking forward to sharing it.

Grizzlie: Much appreciated, and looking forward to that story myself. Depicting a protagonist quite a bit different from HUNK, and doing something new that hasn't been done in Resident Evil fan fiction, as it was for this story.

Magd305TLC: U.S.S. in full force indeed, especially for this chapter. I enjoyed bringing them in at last, HUNK being the only agent for the majority of the story... now you can see the rest from his POV. His world among them.

One of my reasons for including Carla Radames was to fix the travesty of 6 and flesh her out more as a character, give her better motives, or at least better context to them, her turn to villainy, instead of how wasted she and various other aspects of 6 were. In this universe the transformation to being an Ada doppelganger still happens, along with her founding Neo Umbrella, but there would be more development and context to it and her than the game offered, where she was a generic doomsday villain. Even Simmons, if I get to him, will have a bit more context and motivation for actions. I like the challenge of fleshing out characters and plots that were not well fleshed out, if at all, in the canon. Part of why I took on this story, to try something new, with HUNK and various other aspects.

HUNK isn't ready to live outside of Umbrella, and it's not the right time, much as he regrets that. One day it will be. As for the Monitor, you will find out what is to become of him. HUNK/Countess Henri will indeed factor in soon, enjoyed writing them, a much different dynamic than his one with Jill, who is a hero who loves him, where Henri is a villain who loves him. And indeed, I wanted FLY GIRL back, she's part of the universe now, the cast, if a small part at the moment. Many more Umbrella characters will factor into the story going forward.

evolution-500: It was the perfect moment for them to open up and be honest with one another at last. Especially for HUNK, who lives a dishonest life where he cannot talk about himself to anyone. Reveal any weaknesses, or fully trust others. And Jill needed the release of it as well, she's been carrying her personal baggage awhile, too scared to share it with her team... HUNK was just the man to share it with, considering the life he leads. There was no realistic alternative to HUNK going back to Umbrella, sadly. He'll find a way, one day, just a matter of when and how. I've said it before, I am not a nihilist. I like the bittersweet ending over a sappy one or nihilism, prefer something human and poignant. Or a well earned happy ending. Hold on to your horses and make more popcorn, ride's not over yet, just because Raccoon City was nuked ;).

Rock992: He'll find a way out of the Umbrella life. He has doubt now in what he's doing, what he is, doubt that will only grow. Just a matter of when and how, the circumstances. Needs time.

CommissarDaniel: Thank you very much, there will be at least a short story in this universe, next, and hopefully a Code Veronica story at some point.

Echo Five: Wherever Billy is, he's far away from the world of Umbrella and monsters, and is better off for it. I like to think he's already received his happy ending, wherever he is. He certainly earned it.

Degurechaff Gintoki: Thank you very much, friend, glad you're enjoying it :).

Jinero: I did indeed. I'm a fountain of inspirations I derived from other works, comics, movies, television and books.

Vong: They will speak again before the end of the story, get more into that. She's planted, or at least further grown the seed of doubt HUNK has in Umbrella, his world. But things that are planted take time to grow and flourish. Carlos is right. HUNK isn't ready yet.

As for Richard "Dick" Valentine's reaction, you'll just have to wait and find out, now won't you? ;).

Spartan: Umbrella's day will indeed come... they are the most powerful of them, though they are far from the only villainous faction in the Resident Evil universe, many more will clamor to replace them once they are toppled, fill the gap left behind. Imitate them. Definitely part of the Spencer legacy, a world of bioweapons corporations and terrorists seeking to replicate the heights of their success.

117: I'll have to look into that, but I think that dog works well for HUNK lol his more noble traits, at least.

bakaultima: 1) She will indeed fully get her man. Eventually. As in during and after the events of 5 in my universe. 2 and 3) Much appreciated ;).

Arkham Knight: That she does, Ada going to have her hands full. But she's better off with GHOST and vice versa, given the alternatives. Looking forward to telling the origin of their story. GHOST came together for me the same way HUNK did, having little background on him and expanding on him with my own experiences and other inspirations, he definitely came together for me. Is a bit more human and relatable than HUNK too, personality wise, as a rookie. Less drama and past trauma too, and a shorter story, so admittedly not huge change for him, but human development for sure for him and Ada. And that scene was indeed one of the inspirations for this chapter.

Akira-Hayama: Sad but true, it could only end one way, unfortunately. No fairy tale to be found here, HUNK has been in it too long and has too big a role in things at Umbrella. He needs to find another way out. It seemed very fitting for it to take place up in the Arklay Mountains though, a very important place for both of them personally, where HUNK began his Umbrella career and helped set things into motion, and the Spencer Mansion for Jill.

I'm glad I seem to have succeeded with my intent for the story, doing HUNK and Jill justice, among other things. You know I like the challenge of characters who haven't interacted before, or things that haven't been explored by Capcom, wasted potential. The events have indeed brought them together, and even while apart and on opposite sides they won't be far from one another's thoughts, taken into consideration of their actions going forward. A bond and relationship forged in viral outbreaks, monsters and nuclear strikes lol not going anywhere anytime soon.

Jill's backstory in this universe is my variation of the S.D. Perry novels depiction of her, but made more in line with game canon. Her mother isn't mentioned in the novels, but it's implied she was absent from Jill's life, and game canon is her mother was Japanese. In the novels her father Dick Valentine and her don't come from Raccoon City, Jill is an outsider from somewhere else in America, but I changed that here so it was her home town, seemed more appropriate, especially as she fought to save it and ultimately failed. Poignant. Nobody listened to her. It's something Capcom never explored, naturally. No shortage of things they haven't explored. Carla was a character and villain that Capcom botched, sadly, didn't give us much reason to care about her, or many layers of context or humanity. Was something of a generic doomsday villain. While in my universe she would become a villain as well, including the Ada doppelganger thing and Neo Umbrella, I would flesh it out a hell of a lot more to make better sense. Make her more relatable and human, and it more tragic when she becomes the supervillain who comes closest to destroying the world. Carlos definitely deserved to get some flirting in lol man had a rough time and then some. Nearly taken back to the Leviathan for execution by Colonel Vladimir and his giant ass knife ass well. HUNK sure bailed him out there, to live to flirt another day.

That nursery rhyme was certainly one of the factors for choosing the name lol. Also the number of fictional characters who helped inspire my HUNK with the name John or Jack, of course. More on that in the notes when the story is done. It's not over yet indeed, they'll talk again, and cross paths one day.

The answers on GHOST will be provided in the story for sure lol. Had as much fun depicting his and Ada's relationship as I did HUNK and Jill, forging the dynamic and figuring it out. Doesn't take place over as long a time, story is much shorter, but it is poignant and fitting for what the story is, basically two completely different characters crossing paths at their most vulnerable, lowest points in the final act of their respective stories in Raccoon City, after the destruction of NEST. GHOST surviving worked for many reasons, and does signal that HUNK's mission in Raccoon City was different from the others, instead of being the sole survivor. Though for all intents and purposes he is still the sole survivor, as the only U.S.S. Agent to return from the operation back to Umbrella. GHOST isn't one of them any longer... though is still an Agent of sorts ;)... more on that when I get to it. Though I think the relationship between GHOST and Ada might be better summed up as Ash Williams or Jack Burton meets Catwoman, instead of Batman/Catwoman. GHOST is certainly no Batman, nor is he HUNK lol. Beyond his luck in happening to survive, he is not particularly lucky or good with everything, is rather bumbling. More of what TV Tropes calls the Crouching Moron Hidden Badass trope. You don't become even a rookie U.S.S. Agent without talent, but that doesn't mean he does everything... or even most things right. Had a blast writing him.

Thanks again, as ever.

Storm: Reckon you'll just have to stick around and keep reading to find out the answer to that question ;).

1) Jill would be deeply flattered and touched by the extent he would go to to avenge her, as most folk would be. Though she would rather he be safe than basically doing what will be the equivalent of a reckless suicide mission against Wesker to avenge her. HUNK will have no intent of surviving at that stage in his life, just wants to kill Wesker, nothing left to live for. I think her father and him would talk before HUNK goes to Africa with Tricell to 'work' for Excella, HUNK would tell Richard Valentine what he intends to do, and he would try to dissuade HUNK, knowing his daughter would want him to live, fail, but tell him to 'Give those bastards hell for my Jilly, son.' Basically.

2) Well, he's already angry enough to infiltrate Tricell and go on a suicide mission against him... now factor in Jill's unmasking? I think he'll be angry enough to not care if the thing he has been infected with that Wesker and Excella are using as leverage kills him or not. It would take outside help to intervene and save his life. I think Chris would start seeing him differently when he finds out how far HUNK was willing to go over Jill... and her surviving, of course. Of course Wesker saw. Many a supervillain watching on the satellite did. Mr Death has a weakness to exploit, Wesker is taking note of that.

3) Live happily ever after with Jill, of course. Or close to it. They would have finally earned their happy ending together by that point. Good HUNK, loses the red lensed gas mask. Rejoins Blue Umbrella, takes command of it again. I could see further adventures for him, like one with Barry and Claire in Revelations 2, he does owe Barry his life, what better way to repay him than helping save his daughter? And of course Resident Evil 6, him and Chris (and Carlos) working together in a joint Blue Umbrella and B.S.A.A. operation. Him and Chris having mostly buried the hatchet by then, though never quite fully, Carlos sort of the bridge between the two. Jill would likely play a part, but possibly not in the field. Likely she'd have kids she's taking care of at that point lol, or Grandpa Richard can be babysitting them, who knows.

Mandalorian's Legacy: No clue what his age is in the canon, nobody knows much about him. The HUNK in my universe is 32 years old as of 1998, born in 1966.

S0UL SURVIVOR: GHOST survives Birkin in the aptly named Ghost Survivors of the Resident Evil 2 remake, which is canon in my universe. At the very least his segment is canon. More details to come. You might say GHOST will live up to his code name.

Nantano: Glad you are enjoying the story. You are correct for Code Veronica, though it would be more HUNK and Alpha Team temporarily joining forces with Claire, Steve and later Chris, against Wesker and the H.C.F. attacking Rockfort Island, with mad Ashford as the wildcard, of course.

There would be no Umbrella Chronicles adaptation involving HUNK, though, that particular story would play out the same. Ideally there would be a different story in my universe set between Code Veronica and 4 that would involve HUNK leaving Umbrella, and would star him and Rebecca Chambers as the protagonists. The story would also involve Lady Spencer and Alpha Team, with Doctor Cameron from Biohazard 4D-Executer as the antagonist, and be set in an Umbrella facility in the Antarctic. Resident Evil meets The Thing, in essence. It's a fucking awesome idea I'm particularly proud of that I had for a long time and put together, that I hope to get to one day. Something like it would make a great new Resident Evil game, an interquel set before Umbrella's end, instead of the Resident Evil Village garbage we're stuck with. Alas, it's Capcom.

My Resident Evil 4 adaptation would be HUNK, Leon, Ashley and their support team vs Nikolai, Jack Krauser and the Los Iluminados. With Ada and GHOST as the more morally ambiguous duo helping and hindering both sides for their own gain and mission, GHOST as Ada's sort of shoulder angel. All of it overseen by Wesker, of course, her shoulder devil, pulling some strings from afar. And likely some cameos or appearances of Leon's two buddies Ark Thompson of Resident Evil Survivor and fellow agent Bruce McGivern from Resident Evil: Dead Aim. Also HUNK and Leon meeting President Graham and the rest of his family early on in the White House, before shipping out for the mission. Ashley's older twin sisters attracted to the sexy, dangerous handcuffed, surrounded by heavily armed government agents, suited war criminal who isn't impressed by their father, the most powerful man in the world, and the pretty golden boy Agent Kennedy of course. Goddamn that's a scene I'd love to write lol. HUNK Plissken. Overall there would be more humor to that story, to reflect the silliness of 4, but still balanced and serious when required of course.

Operator-MTF-OMEGA-7: I appreciate you like it so much, this story isn't yet complete and I have a short story coming up next after this one. As for sequels, we shall see. It would be a Code Veronica story if I do a next one.

Thank you all for the reviews, as ever. Your patience has been greatly appreciated with this one, you will understand why it took me so long. And on that note, on with the world of Umbrella. HUNK's world, one a good deal different from Raccoon City, though no less dangerous beneath the surface:

---

Skies Over Tall Oaks, Eastern Coast, New England, United States

October 1st, 1998, 7:32AM

HUNK caught the welcome scent of the sea from far off, head turning where he sat towards the open side door of the chopper. The aroma beckoning. Reminding him of Rockfort Island... even knowing how far away from here it was.

Not long after the twin Black Hawks began their pass over Tall Oaks, he glimpsed the coast ahead... and far beyond it the hulking Leviathan came into view, where SHIPMASTER had set down the anchor of the Umbrella Fleet's flagship. Midnight black hull illuminated in the morning light. With Umbrella's reach, connections and bribery of the state's senator and other local officials running Tall Oaks, along with Simmons' Family, they were free to use the waters off Tall Oaks as they saw fit. As they were with other corrupt politicians of the many on Umbrella's payroll. Spencer had put the ship into commission at his daughter's advisement to globally boast Umbrella's wealth, prestige, technological and military capability. He had succeeded, and then some. As he did in most endeavors, no matter the price. A massive fully stealth aircraft carrier and cruiser in one worthy of its name... state of the art, was considered to be one of Umbrella's finest technological feats. One of its pride and joys... such that numerous countries navies and PMC's around the world were vying for designs of their own. Capable of rivaling, and in some matters far surpassing, a Nimitz-class aircraft carrier. It could start and win a war all by itself if it wanted... covered with a multitude of state of the art and advanced weapons, turrets including Phalanx CIWS', RIM-116 Rolling Airframe Missiles and RIM-7 Sea Sparrows. To say nothing of the great mounted railguns from the Umbrella Tech Division that put the experimental one Delta Force had lugged to the Dead Factory to shame. Umbrella well ahead of the U.S. Government when it came to railgun technology. It was perfectly capable of rapidly deploying numerous fixed wing aircraft, attack and transport helicopters, an assortment of military vehicles and agents and troops, along with long range bombardment. Effortlessly dominating a battlefront on all sides. It would not end well for any country or rival company who tried attacking it head on, or made an enemy of Umbrella. Especially when the Leviathan was complimented by the rest of the fleet, or simply a few support ships, a strike group. For him and the rest of Umbrella Security Service? It was a familiar sight by now... if a no less impressive one. A home. Or at least... the home between homes, in the absence of Rockfort Island or their postings at Umbrella facilities around the world.

Although it fell primarily under the authority of Umbrella Security Service within the Umbrella Fleet, the other divisions of the company called upon it as well when need be. Various executives could be seen coming and going from it around the world... platoons of the U.B.C.S. would catch a ride on it for deployment now and again as well... as they had for Raccoon City. A hub of sorts between the various factions within Umbrella.

There were numerous helipads and landing areas on the flight deck... containing numerous other unmarked and modified Black Hawks, CH-47 Chinooks, V-22 Ospreys, AH-64 Apaches, A-10 Thunderbolts, CH-57 Sea Stallions, C-130 cargo planes, among others... and Colonel Vladimir's Hind D gunship perched on one them. The red U.M.F.-013 cargo container was nowhere in sight... undoubtedly stored away safely by now in the cargo hold. With total crew compliment ranging in the thousands, naval crewmen, technicians, ship security, U.S.S. Agents and U.B.C.S. personnel ran back and forth over the deck of the carrier like ants from where they were in the distance, performing assorted tasks... refueling helicopters, hauling and moving cargo. A number of vehicles driving about the deck. And a crowd of hundreds was already gathering to greet them, as their Black Hawks approached their respective landing pads. A full battalion at least of U.S.S. Agents was kept at all times aboard the Leviathan... their mobile base away from Rockfort Island. Lady Spencer had seen to that mandate as well, when she had been building up the might of the U.S.S. to its greatest heights before she left. Every time he saw the Leviathan, a wistful feeling struck him... of what even this unrivaled sight could have been if she had stayed with the company, if it had been her still building up the U.S.S. and Umbrella Fleet, instead of her chosen successors. She had presided over the transformation of the U.S.S. from the simple special forces and security paramilitary unit it had been even when he had joined... to the standing corporate army it now was. One hell of a feat by anyone's standards... and a major reason the rival companies played ball, and kept their distance. For now. Between the combined might of the U.S.S. and the all seeing eye of the U.I.D. At his side, Doctor Radames looked over to him... he returned her green eyed gaze through her glasses for a moment, and she merely smiled silently, as though to say 'welcome home'. Back to their world. He had the feeling in spite of her trepidation going out in the field, it was a thrill to her to be out like this with him. Such as it was with scientists who spent too much time in their labs. Required more field experience, to see how things were with their own eyes. She had gotten little more than a sample... but perhaps she would be open to more in the future. Or perhaps not, with how introverted she was. Still, for him she had torn herself from her lab to board a military chopper and come to the field to check up on him. He knew it had taken some effort, but she'd made it all the same.

He silently appreciated that.

"NIGHTHAWK to air traffic control. The pale horse is here, delivering Death and his cargo. Requesting permission to land. Over."

"Permission granted, NIGHTHAWK. Bring her into the stables. Welcome home, boys. Mr Reaper. Hope that hell didn't follow with you. Over."

In the cockpit NIGHTHAWK was speaking with primary flight control and the bridge for clearance to land at their designated landing zone. Permission was immediately granted by the familiar woman's voice of the communication's officer from her post on the bridge. He did not reply to Chloe's amused, pleased greeting. As they passed over to the Leviathan's landing zone for them, HUNK looked to and picked up the damaged gas mask and rose it over his face again, securing the strap into place. Breathing through it... half of his red world returning. There was a strange comfort he drew from it... to be rendered faceless. He had come to prefer it... at least among a crowd of onlookers that awaited him. If he had to be known... a spotlight shined on him for his actions... at least he could have some small measure of privacy still remaining under his control. In this armor, uniform... he was just another field agent... even as reality betrayed him, made him otherwise to others. Something more he had never intended to be... but perhaps she had meant to make him. It served as more than one form of armor at least, he knew. He secured the battle scarred, clawed and dented helmet over his head carefully as well, minding the bump there, tightening and securing the strap into place. Back to the grindstone. As little as he wished to be. The immediate hostilities had ceased... but not all of them. The mission wasn't over... this was merely the tedious, expected part of it. The formalities. Presentation. At least until he was safe in the doctor's lab, far away from the prying eyes. He had done this before... he could do it again. His desires did not matter or factor into this life of his. Only necessity. The mission. He breathed again, a low muffled breath, and looked to the blonde doctor again as the Black Hawk began its gradual descent to the landing pad, not far from the gun ship and the second Black Hawk that had accompanied them.

"Have Nikolai taken straight up to the room next to your medical lab. Placed under heavy guard. Some of my people, not SENTINEL's and sure as hell not Vladimir's. U.S.S. Agents. Nobody else. He will be joining me in France."

"Don't worry, I know the drill. I'll make the necessary arrangements.", Doctor Radames promised him with a nod, glancing back to the medics tending to the Monitor, and returning her concerned gaze to the agent. "But we should get you to the lab as soon as possible as well."

"It'll have to wait a little while. Hold on to Nikolai's backpack for me, and keep it close. I have a public trial to attend."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll see. Stick around. How things run around here outside your lab, of late."

HUNK caught NIGHTHAWK's look in the mirror again, and nodded at the other man, the pilot merely smirking and not saying a word. FLY GIRL appeared confused at the exchange... but it was just as well. She too would learn soon enough. Every rookie often had to learn the hard way. That the job wasn't what was advertised in the recruitment process. The Black Hawk descended down ever further... the size of the world of the aircraft carrier growing around them, along with the crowd coming into sight. The moment it had touched down, the eight other agents aboard led by NULL filed and climbed out the side door of the chopper first, forming a perimeter between the Black Hawk and the crowd. They were aided by the fourteen other matching agents who poured from the second Black Hawk, who made their way down to his position as well, standing guard for him. Securing the perimeter while the onlookers waited for him to emerge from the chopper. He shut his eyes tightly for a moment, drawing a low, muffled breath through the mask... preparing himself for it. Ignoring his quickened pulse. Attempting to clear his head, the way she had taught him... to ignore his uneasiness and the ache of pain and exhaustion. In the past his hands had shaken at the prospect of onlookers... the night at the Spencer Mansion, and other events. He had that under control now, at least... most of the time... but it never really got any easier... the more his reputation had grown. The more attention he received. This was what he had been made for... this was his life, whether it was comfortable or not. Whether he wanted it or not. Finally... knowing he couldn't put it off any longer, HUNK opened his eyes, rose from the seat, turned from the doctor and climbed out the open side door, past the door gunner, boots touching the flight deck of the Leviathan once more at last.

The cheers and applause of his onlooking fellow employees went up louder as he stepped into view and moved out of the way of the door. He forced himself not to limp in front of them... could not afford to show weakness... especially now. Though he moved slowly and carefully, ignoring the stabbing of pain in his leg and abdomen. The burning. Before stopping somewhere in front of the helicopter, amid the security perimeter. Looking beyond them and among the awaiting crowd before him. Only some of the ships guards on the perimeters and vital sections of the deck did not gather into the crowd or pay much heed, SHIPMASTER's men, disciplined to the core and focusing on their duties. If only just now everyone else on the deck took after them. Doctor Radames came out after him next with Nikolai's backpack down at her side, directing the medics and a few of the nearby agents and security personnel from the crowd to take Nikolai to her lab. They carried the Monitor's stretcher down through the doors and through a gap in the crowd, vanishing from sight... though Doctor Radames lingered near HUNK at the Black Hawk while NIGHTHAWK turned off the engine behind them, the whirring rotor gradually dying down. She stayed with him, watching him with concern despite her obvious uneasiness to be in front of so many. An uneasiness they shared. Even with the mask... even as their superior... he felt great discomfort among them, their clapping, stares... laughter and cheers. It was worse than all the whispers about him... at least then his fellow employees were doing it quietly, privately. Out of sight, relatively out of mind. This was another story altogether... one he had never cared for. Praise... fawning admiration.

It didn't matter how long or how short he had known any of them. None of them knew him any more than he did them. A sea of strangers, false faces, looked back at him. He was just doing a job he was good at. The only thing he was good at. When had being an assassin and thief for a corporation started meriting adulation?

But they had become a family over the years. A family he had one foot within, and the other out the door. Ready to be transferred away somewhere around the world for another mission. Another executive in need of his talents. Another contamination needing containment. Files seized and people kidnapped or eliminated. Not for the first time he would have preferred going straight to the medical lab... or somewhere, anywhere on the ship they weren't would do. How had DEN MOTHER thrived as she had in the center of attention? Among a crowd like this? She had made it seem easy... which was everything it wasn't. She had never taught him how to handle it... Director Henri was now attempting, to limited success. Seemed to enjoy the challenge. She was good at it as well. This was a company of many extroverts, at least in the leadership. It simply wasn't him. But then, Lady Spencer and Comtesse Henri had been blue bloods, groomed for a life of spectacle, parties and attention. Risen to be prepared for this sort of attention, as he had not been. Lady Spencer had found him too late to teach him those lessons... regardless of how young he had been when they met. Even if she had wanted to teach him that. Maybe she had been trying to spare him from it. Would these fawning admirers hold him in the regard they did if not for his time with Lady Spencer? The renown she had started him off with? No. He would just be another cog in the machine... instead of one that stood out, and was favored. A poster boy position he'd never wanted or requested. These people worshiped an idea, a legend, that was warped. He found he didn't look at them the same way he once had. Felt his respect for most of them steadily slipping away. But he had to stand there, jaw within the mask tightened, and pretend that he was like them. A fellow employee. Projecting a feigned confidence that was expected of him. Being false... and despising it. So he forced himself to tolerate all the pats on the shoulder and back, the many dizzying faces moving about him... and the chorus of excited voices vying for attention.

Until one voice in particular somewhere ahead of him stood out apart from the others, in the same way its owner did. Dwarfed the others. As he was like to do in many aspects of life.

"Such a grand entrance! War's prodigal son returns home to us at last!"

A familiar deep accented, booming voice observed as the clapping began to die down rather quickly, then. Powerful voice laughing. Heads swiveling in his direction at once... whispers... though the owner of the voice did not stop his own sarcastic applause. Sizable hands banging together roughly. HUNK felt Doctor Radames hand fall upon his uninjured shoulder, gripping it tightly. The owner of the voice had intimidated her since her arrival aboard the Leviathan, as he did most other. It was understandable, for those who didn't know him the way HUNK did. Knew better than to fear him. Before long, the crowd had gone entirely silent... all save him.

The gigantic windswept silver haired Russian emerged closer towards the head of the crowd, adorned in his ever familiar dark grey, thickly armored greatcoat uniform with red lined cuffs. Four glinting metal buttons along the right side of it, closing it up... and the familiar red and white Umbrella logo metal medallion like a military officer's badge set over his heart. A white silk ascot visible at his throat and sternum behind the coat, just like the sort Lord Spencer wore in his portraits at each of the Spencer properties around Europe... red collar on his greatcoat risen on either side of his neck. All that was missing on the uniform were the many medals he wore to formal occasions pinned to his massive chest, enough of them to cover even one his size. Most of them earned from his Spetsnaz days in Afghanistan, battling the local insurgents for nearly a decade straight. The veteran almost certainly having to be dragged kicking and screaming out of the country by his superior, Colonel-General Gromov, when the war ended. Never forgiving Gorbachev for that... among other decisions for his once 'glorious' Soviet Union. His ever present massive, double edged blades with spiked knuckles for a handle between the twin blades hung securely from the black belt looped around the waist of his greatcoat, closer to the size of a small sword than a knife. Along with his holstered antique Mauser C96 resting on the opposite side of his belt. Despite who and what the man was, his taste in weapons was impeccable. Long black leather boots pounding on the flight deck... greatcoat and silver hair shifting in the morning breeze. He was surrounded by his own specialized unit of U.B.C.S. Elites, instead of his Ivan Tyrant bodyguards that SHIPMASTER commanded be confined to the cryostasis deck in the cargo hold. They were neither Tyrants nor U.S.S. Agents, but he couldn't deny they were damn good for what they were. A bunch of mercenaries... some of the best from around the world, of all different nations. Clad in olive green, black and camouflaged uniforms similar to Carlos and the others, but much more heavily armed and armored, helmeted, and adorning dark gas masks with green tinted reflective lenses. The Colonel's answer to Lady Spencer's U.S.S. Agents, almost certainly. Brandishing a variety of customized assault rifles and other weapons.

Off to the side stood an older Umbrella executive in Vladimir's own particular Inner Circle... breathing through a mobile oxygen tank with assistants behind him... observing the exchange. Standing there looking back at hunk, dressed in a black suit, pants, white shirt and dark green tie. HUNK didn't know his name off the top of his head... but he knew the name of the second, younger, dark haired, mustached, bespectacled executive standing beside the mysterious old man, among the U.B.C.S. Elites. A man also clad in a dark suit and pants, though with a blue shirt and brown tie. Director Tommy Nielsen... having survived his attempt to take out Captain Rodriquez and his unit, it seemed. That alone was fairly impressive, for a pencil pusher far out of his field of expertise with that assignment. Though he looked about ready to have a nervous breakdown from his experience in Raccoon City, looking back at HUNK. Averting his eyes quickly and pretending to adjust his tie. HUNK felt zero sympathy for him. A pity Rodriquez hadn't taken the sycophant out when he'd had the chance.

Likely the only reason he was still alive was the result of other man close by to him. The bulky muscled, heavy set U.B.C.S. Elite Commander Arnold who along with his team had supported the Director's attempt to regain the stolen B.O.W. code named Nyx, and eliminate Special Agent Rodriguez. Did all the heavy lifting and risk taking too, no doubt. The dark haired, buzz cut headed veteran was hefting his customized Heckler & Koch PSG1 sniper rifle over one shoulder, looking back defiantly at HUNK and the others. Looking thoroughly pissed off... whether at the U.S.S., the Director nearby, or his own failed mission, HUNK wasn't certain, but probably a combination of each. While have the arrogance and sociopathy he had come to expect of the higher ranking U.B.C.S. members, there was no denying his talent at what he did. Almost certainly doing all the dangerous, difficult work for Nielsen, who would have got the credit if the mission had been a success, where Arnold would be stuck with the blame for the failure. How the world of Umbrella politics worked. No different from the rest of the world. Though as it was for Nielsen, he felt no more sympathy for the slovenly Commander than he did for the scheming executive. Lastly was another somewhat familiar face, standing a bit away from the others, closer to the front of the crowd on that side, watching him. A figure he had not expected to see, had thought dead. Monitor Roger Torihata, clad in his green and black uniform and familiar black and red cap with the white letters on the front of the U.B.C.S. So... he had survived his mission to find Doctor Cameron after all... failed it too, likely... though the fact he was still alive probably meant he had enough data or leads to satisfy the Colonel and Spencer. There was no sign of Cameron, Sergeant Claus or his team among the U.B.C.S. personnel, though... likely Torihata had been the sole survivor of the mission. HUNK saw The bespectacled Monitor looking back at him intently, watching him strangely... but HUNK ignored him, in favor of the Monitor's leader he had come to deal with.

A far greater and more immediate threat than some Supervisor he'd never traded so much as a word with.

"Triumphant... in spite of all the many obstacles. I particularly liked the part with the giant worm. Yet you remain quite late. And compromised. What have you to say for yourself, Death?"

Colonel Sergei Alexei Vladimir pushed easily through the ring of onlookers on his side of the deck, bumping roughly past Monitor Torihata, who cast the giant a dark look from behind his glasses, and emerging at its mouth still slowly applauding... his remaining cold, steely grey eye settled upon the U.S.S. Agent. All he needed was the Soviet anthem playing on the ship's speakers for his usual dramatic entrance to be complete... though that would have had to be done over SHIPMASTER's dead body. All the same, continued sarcastic applause of his own seemed to sate his egomania enough... drawing pleasure from how uncomfortable he was making a good number of the non combatant crew personnel. The image he had cultivated. Gradually, he stopped applauding, the smile lingering on his scarred, rough visage... and a silence descended over the entire deck. Umbrella's second in command awaiting HUNK's response. All eyes looked between the two of them... and HUNK knew what had to be done. What had been a long time coming. He looked back over to NIGHTHAWK calmly standing with the alarmed FLY GIRL, who nodded his helmeted head in support. Then he looked to Doctor Radames and withdrew from her support, her touch on his shoulder. She looked startled at this gesture, speaking to him in a hushed voice for him alone to hear.

"HUNK, as your doctor, this isn't-..."

"It's ok... Carla. Appreciate the concern... but the lab is your world. This is mine. I prefer yours... but can handle this much. Trust me."

She met his gaze, startled by the usage of her name... but looking between him and the Colonel, and nodded at last with reluctance, discontent written on her features. HUNK turned from her then, back towards the Russian, and moved down towards him determinedly. Meeting him halfway in the gap between the onlooking, hushed crewmen, U.S.S. Agents and U.B.C.S. Elites. He moved close, standing toe to toe with the Tyrant's progenitor... looking up at him. The Tyrants... given human form... easily seven feet tall and then some, with his boots. At least the B.O.W's were more honest about what they were... their nature... did not play games. This psychotic usurper and fatherly approval seeking conman was another story altogether. A parasite no less than the one in the Nemesis... leeching off Umbrella, true to his Communist roots. Finally, his muffled voice within the gas mask addressed the silent, hulking figure, asking a question of his own instead.

"Murdock pass along my message before you gulaged him?"

"He talked. A little too much, as you noticed. I should have spotted the warning signs sooner. What is it you westerners say? "Loose lips sink ships?" It certainly sunk his career. Perhaps more. Most impressive cunning on your part, at that outpost. And true to your word, here you are."

"In that case, I say that you deliberately put most of those obstacles I had to hurtle up, Colonel."

"An accusation, comrade?", The Colonel asked with all the confident air of faux innocence. Feigning to be aghast. "Of me?"

"A fact. You deliberately scrambled my mission. Attempted to sabotage it. At numerous occasions through the operation. Redirected my assets to the U.S. Government's Quarantine Zone. Wrapped red tape around us and the Board of Directors. Slowed us down. Put a priority mission in jeopardy, in spite of Lady Spencer's legislation on U.S.S. operations. Our separation from the U.B.C.S chain of command. Do you deny it?"

"There is nothing to deny to an underling. You are but another agent of Umbrella Security Service. I am the right hand of Lord Spencer. Everything for Umbrella. I am Umbrella... in his stead... and it will be reborn through me, arise again from the ashes of Raccoon City. The rules are mine to shape, to write as I see fit, as Captain of the Guard. Your precious Lady has no say in how things are run any longer, thankfully. Your accusations refute themselves. You are my subordinate... merely one with a golden bejeweled leash around his neck, tied to a boardroom warrior's nail polished hand. A mad, envious woman who thinks herself the RED QUEEN personified, when the true one is now my own. It has filled your head with illusions of authority... delusions of grandeur. How decadent and arrogant you have become, living in a castle. I much preferred your days at Rockfort Island. You had more spirit, then."

The already broad smile on his face deepened on that note, at the mockery of him and the Comtesse... and there were some murmurs in the crowd... some mocking laughs of approval as well. Especially from the U.B.C.S. side of the crowd. HUNK looked among them for a moment silently... their laughter and scorn quickly subsiding as he did... before looking back up at the self satisfied Russian. In spite of the pain, exhaustion... everything from the past days weakening him... it gaze him resolve. Clarity. Purpose. Staring back at the one responsible for most of it. It had been awhile since he hated anyone as much as Vladimir and Nikolai.

"This is not only Lady Spencer's mandate you broke. Lord Spencer himself authorized Operation: NESTWRECKER personally, through the Board of Directors. Granted me supreme authority for the mission. His age and ailing health does not grant you the authority to supersede and undermine his direct commands. To bypass the Board. All to get a sample of Golgotha for yourself to hand to him personally. Be the golden boy to him and earn the fatherly pat on the head you desperately crave. Well... not all for that reason. You had the added bonus of trying to throw me under the bus. Attempting to make me fail the objective, like you nearly did. Pull me down with you into misery and failure, true to your Marxist ways. I imagine that was one hell of an incentive. You aren't Lord Spencer's blood, Vladimir. You are not Umbrella's lawful heir. No matter how much you wish you were and try to be. To pretend. You never will be. Lady Spencer is his one true heiress. You're a legend in your own mind."

There were some more murmurs and appreciative laughs from the crowd around them at that, including a bit on the U.B.C.S. side... all of it quickly silenced by Vladimir's sweeping glare and unpleasant expression. Yet when his steely grey eye returned to the agent... his smile merely deepened. The cat that ate the canary. How HUNK would like to smash it off his face. Shatter his teeth. He should have gouged out Vladimir's other eye... those years ago on the island. The temptation had crossed his mind, he remembered. Only she had stayed his hand. But she wasn't here now. He had to fight his own battles, and walk his own tightrope. Restrain himself. Fight another sort of battle here instead of a physical one.

"Perhaps you do have a little spirit left over within you, in spite of your lady rejecting you. And what proof have you of your accusations towards me? By all means, present your case."

"The Tyrants you dropped on the city to search for the virus. To engage Delta Force. I know all about them. Everyone here does."

"Necessary, to make up for your near failure. You were wisely assumed dead when you dropped out of radio contact as long as you did. My Tyrants offered a two fold solution... one to remedy your incompetence... the other to prevent the government's interference and acquirement of the virus. Admittedly they failed at the former, yet succeeded at the latter."

"You're lying. A soldier I was with under your own command put out word on the radio I was still alive. It's what kept U.S.S. Command from dispatching another team. Giving me time to complete my mission. And I wouldn't have been in that position if not for the Nemesis... another in a long line of your fucked up clone children. Abominations born in a lab, rolled right off Goldman's Sheena Island assembly line. The one most like its father. Was that your idea too?"

"Tragic happenstance.", Colonel Vladimir lied smoothly, cold grey eye gleaming back at HUNK with open malice. Barely constrained fury visibly forming at the mention of his Tyrant sons. A particular sensitive spot of his, HUNK had found over the years. The belief he was a father... to those monsters born in a lab, of his blood. The swipe at his need for Spencer's validation silently hurt him enough... in combination with his Tyrant progeny, it was effective. Made him turn defensive... protective. "Nor would an absentee progenitor such as yourself be in any position to be critiquing another's children. Particularly their origin. He was being field tested merely to remove S.T.A.R.S. threats to the company... most unfortunate he happened upon you and interrupted your operation. Though you seem to have come out of it alive... for better or worse. Was that your doing... or the intriguing company you were keeping in all that time? Everything I and my sons do is for Umbrella. Can you claim that of yourself of late, comrade?"

No laughter this time. A tense silence... but followed by more murmurs around the crowd of onlookers, swiveling heads... but HUNK remained as he was. Where he was. Knowing what the Colonel was getting at. Would be getting at. It figured the rumors had already circulated... now the Leviathan crew... his own agents... would get confirmation of it. No matter what HUNK said or didn't say. The whispers would continue, however this ended. The mention of the children... of his conduct... also kept him silent. A pulse of anger forming... but keeping it tightly under wraps. That part of him should have been long gone and buried. There was a world of difference between Lady Spencer's children and the abominations cloned from the Colonel. Comparing them was another insult, of the many he spewed... but the warped giant saw no difference. Colonel Vladimir looked around among all the faces on each side, his booming voice carrying over the deck.

"The Grim Reaper here claims me to be a traitor... all while he consorts with S.T.A.R.S. members, the survivors of X-Day... who my Nemesis was programmed to target. The Nemesis would not have engaged you, had you not engaged him first... to protect some American whore named Valentine. You repeatedly intervened to save the life of an enemy of Umbrella, Agent HUNK, with a sizable bounty on her head. All for some cheap dalliance between yourselves, in the midst of a pressing mission for Lord Spencer. You wasted time and expended a priceless T-Virus vaccination upon her... when you could have escaped the city far sooner. You also released Corporal Oliveira from his contract, let him go with the others, which you had no authority to do, especially after he violated Article 12. You are not the U.B.C.S.'s commander, boy. I am. His imprisonment and execution was my responsibility. In so doing, you violated Article 12 as well. What does that make you, then? Loyal is not the word that comes to mind. Tell us all... whatever did you talk about with that girl, in all that romantic time you shared together? Which company secrets did you spill for her sexual favors? Perhaps Murdock was not the only one with loose lips... though I can certainly understand how she might loosen yours."

There was more mocking laughter then at that, more than before, among the U.B.C.S. and a number of SHIPMASTER's naval personnel, while the U.S.S. members remained dead silent. Laughter that only pleased Vladimir visibly, encouraged him, the crowd turning to his side. The Colonel couldn't hide the barest trace of a sneer, lips twisting, at his observations, taking pleasure in all of them. Believing him cowed, shamed... embarrassed. The boy HUNK had been would have been. Whoever he now was... saw through the insults. Though the ones directed at Valentine silently burning at him, he found, far more than the ones aimed at him. Slowly, even through the pain and exhaustion... the contempt... it came to HUNK, a bit at a time. The trap Vladimir had walked into... unwittingly set up himself. In his effort to deflect and to mock. HUNK seized on to it with little hesitation, voice cutting over the laughter, rendering the crew quiet rather quickly.

"I'm not a mercenary. I don't collect bounties. Nowhere did my orders state I had to kill S.T.A.R.S. members. You and your old friend Wesker fucked up at the mansion and failed to eliminate them already. That failure is your own. My mission was the procurement of the Golgotha sample at all costs. Not to clean up another of your messes. I improvised. Adapted. Overcame. Succeeded. Beat the odds. And who's to say the Nemesis wouldn't have come after me anyways? Maybe you put a backup program in its head to kill me anyways. To take the G-Virus sample. Secondary programming. There's always a hidden plan, with you. Though not usually a successful one. I took command of Corporal Oliveira under the authority granted to me by Lord Spencer. Command over all Umbrella personnel on the ground, where I was. I do not recall your boots ever touching the ground with all the men you so casually sent to die for nothing. No... not nothing, for combat data. You speak of treason... tell me something... did the Tyrant's creators go through the Board of Directors before releasing the Nemesis... or did they do it at your behest under the table? Seeking glory the same way you were? Undermining Director Henri's authority?"

A dead silence settled over the moments ago excited crowd in the wake of his words. Only the sounds of the Atlantic lapping up against the hull and distant cawing of sea gulls carried around them. HUNK caught a ripple of something else as well... the swiveling eyes and heads. The understanding. And best of all, he caught a flash of it in the Colonel's normally steely eye. Realization of what he had walked into, in his arrogance. He had him. And pushed his advantage.

"That's what I thought. Maybe I'll have a chat with them, when I get to Paris. With Frankl. See what they have to say about bypassing their employers... bypassing Director Henri and wasting many millions of dollars she funded them with. Shareholders investments. All on account of a power and ego trip... and a promise of protection perhaps from a scheming, vindictive Colonel. They will not be let off the hook, rest assured."

"Their ingenious minds and talents will get them off the hook in the end, no matter what charges you lay at their feet. Umbrella Europe cannot afford to discard such talent on mere technicalities. The Sixth Laboratory is the heart of the Paris Facility's successes. Not even your beloved Countess can afford such a devastating blow to the Tyrant, B.O.W. and viral programs. They are among Umbrella's best and brightest. Invaluable. Worth far more than millions. Will generate billions, if left to their own devices."

"Possible. Their work is impressive. But the Nemesis failed its objective in the end. Like all the others you sent. Despite the upgrades and its unparalleled performance. Which means the team wasted not only a multi million dollar project, but years of research and development... all for nothing more than company fame and bragging rights. How happy will the Board be when they find out they have nothing to show for their massive investment besides some basic combat data they could have achieved at Rockfort Island without losing Nemesis in the process?"

More silence... HUNK didn't care as much about the silence of the others... but of the Russian himself. A man rarely ever for a loss of words. He was getting somewhere here. The best defense was a good offense... the words had been more true than most realized. The giant Colonel was clenching his jaw unpleasantly, trying to think out a comeback, perhaps. Something to cover his own ass and divert the focus once more. At that telling silence, HUNK went on, wrapping up his case.

"That's how I'll deal with the Sixth Laboratory, for starters. Perhaps with a little more finality than that, if the Director deems it necessary. As for you... I have Nikolai... and more importantly I have his laptop. All the Monitor data. Everything he gathered. All the transmissions between the two of you NKVD stooges. Assassinations. Dirty laundry. Secret missions Lord Spencer and the Board didn't know about. Might not be too pleased to hear of. Leverage... you might call it. I can present it all to the Board through Director Henri, if need be. And from her to Lord Spencer. I know how much you would hate to disappoint him, after everything he's done for you. Taking you in like a stray dog when nobody else wanted you. How far and high do you want to take this? How difficult do you want me to make your life... the way you made my mission?"

The giant Russian stared hard at HUNK in silence for a long moment, glowering... the great calloused, scarred hand down at his side clenched into a fist. One of the healing wounds from his habit of cutting himself with his blade opening back up, blood trickling down it. Dripping down on the deck at his boots. Chiseled, scarred face giving little away... but HUNK knew he was weighing his options, and considering any possible threat HUNK might pose with what he had. Perhaps recalling what messages he had sent to Nikolai, the contents of them. Already HUNK looked forward to having QUARTERMASTER scour through them, finding out what was exchanged. Seeing the leverage he had for himself. It was quiet enough then on that deck that the only sounds seemed to come from the wind around them and the sea... the distant flying gulls cawing. In the end, Colonel Vladimir relented, uttered a sudden laugh... low and rumbling, cold... but oddly appreciative. Though it was contrasted by the returning sneer to his mouth, glinting grey eye, and his words.

"Well played, Death. For another who despises the politics... your Countess taught you the game well. As your Lady failed... or neglected to. I shall let such baseless accusations slide... this one time... due to the great trauma you have undertaken. A nearly two week operation at the heart of an infested city. You are not thinking straight. No man could. Consider this your well earned slap on the wrist. Next time I shall not be nearly so generous and lenient. No doubt the Board of Directors will sing your praises upon your return to Europe, add to your legend. Offer you any next job you wish. Your icy Countess parting her lovely legs when you bring her your sample... like the whipped, obedient American gigolo your Lady originally chose and trained you to be. No matter what has come to pass, your many missions, you are still that. What might your fellow agents think of the 'legendary' Death... if they heard some of the stories about you and your Lady that Lord Spencer has shared with me? They would be funny... if they weren't so pathetic. An insignificant peasant boy whore scraped out of a lab and molded as a toy to amuse bored, wedded, degenerate oligarch-..."

HUNK's hands flew as if possessed to his sheathed combat knife and Matilda, then, in a flurry of instinctive movement, wrapping around the haft and handle respectively... and remaining there. Resisting the temptation to raise it and empty the machine pistol into his enemy, heart beating quicker. Cold anger burning in his veins. He managed to control it, though imagined the bullets tearing through the Russian. That got the reaction he was looking for. Something in Colonel Vladimir's remaining eye flinched fearfully, his hand went for the double edged blade at his belt and the other upon the handle of his Mauser... but also didn't draw either of them. Reacting in time to understand HUNK's intent. The rest of the crowd was not so restrained or quick on the uptake, with the tenseness of the atmosphere. Every one of the U.B.C.S. Elites' weapons snapped up and aimed directly at HUNK... assault rifles, pistols, shotguns... an assortment, dozens of them. Green laser sights attached to the weapons streaming all over HUNK's armored form, settling on it. Commander Arnold aiming his sniper rifle directly at HUNK's head, peering through the scope, gripping it tightly. All of them waiting for the order to come to mow him down. They could and would do it with ease... without hesitation.

Theirs weren't the only weapons that rose, however.

A wall of red laser sights flashed on from behind HUNK, streaming past him on either side... illuminating all over Colonel Vladimir's greatcoat and forehead... and upon the body armor of his Elite U.B.C.S. guards. One settling on Arnold's own head in turn... some streaming past and settling on Director Nielsen's head as well as the elderly executive on the oxygen tank. Where Nielsen looked like a deer trapped in the headlights, the old man was entirely unperturbed... just as Monitor Torihata was, with the laser sights hovering over his cap. HUNK looked back to find the eight agents of the security team led by NULL and the second team from the other Black Hawk aiming at the opposite side, as well as a number of other security agents who had been on the scene. G36 Assault rifles, MP5's, LE5's, TMP's and various shotguns, among other weapons that snapped up and met the Elites' weapons. One of the door gunners had returned to his post on NIGHTHAWK's Black Hawk, leveling the GAU-19 gatling gun directly at Colonel Vladimir and the rest, prepared to cut them all in half. His men and women, standing with him, even against Umbrella's second in command and two other executives. Weapons trained on him, ready and waiting for the command to execute him and the entire platoon of U.B.C.S. Elites in one fell swoop. They would do it without hesitation or question, as Vladimir's men would obey him. It was strangely heartening, the knowledge of that. Satisfying. NIGHTHAWK had limped over from his Black Hawk to join them on his whirring mechanical leg brace... had cleared the sidearm he had named "Wildey" from his dark grey flight suit's belt. A familiar modified .475 Lightning Hawk Auto Mag, and was with them as well, pointing its laser sight down towards the Colonel's forehead unflinchingly. He nodded at HUNK, who returned the gesture. At his side FLY GIRL had done the same with her own risen, modified MUP pistol... while Doctor Radames was frozen with alarm among the sea of U.S.S. Agents, caught between the opposing sides, looking at him and all the weapons around her with wide eyes. Shaking her head and mouthing a word. 'No'.

Looking back at her frightened green eyes through her glasses, HUNK felt the power in that moment that War must have felt all the time. A sample of it. He wasn't sure what he thought about the taste... but he saw how tempting it was. How intoxicating it could be. What it might do to someone expected to wield it all their lives... people ready to die for them on a simple command. To do anything he commanded. He knew then it was too dangerous for him to wield... the temptation of it. He wasn't made for power on this scale. Only for command of a team. He knew that he already had enough of it... perhaps too much. He had to utilize the temporary authority Lord Spencer had granted him more carefully. Lest he end up like the deluded, power hungry tyrant standing in front of him. Raccoon City was over... the mission winding down. There had been enough war and death for awhile. Nobody else standing out here on the flight deck was going to die because of him.

At least not today.

Nodding at the doctor, the agent at last slowly removed his hand from Matilda, looked back down to the Colonel and his Elites. Savoring the hushed silence over the deck... the look in the Colonel's eye. Before releasing a sudden, sharp laugh.

"Jumpy this morning, Colonel... aren't you? Without your bodyguard 'sons' at your sides. Were you planning on testing your Ivans on me at Rockfort Island, next time we're all there? Been looking forward to killing more of your children."

"Stand down, men. If this conflict can be resolved, it is a matter to be resolved between two men. Not many. And not to be ended in one simple exchange of gunfire."

The assorted mercenaries all looked at one another, and to the Colonel... looking ready to defy him for a moment, to speak up, until they received the deadly look from the Colonel. They relented at last, slowly, gradually obeyed with visible reluctance, the green laser sights flashing and dancing on HUNK's armor and uniform vanishing. Commander Arnold looking particularly put off as he lowered the sniper rifle with a disappointed grimace, cursing audibly. Where Tommy Nielsen looked relieved as Doctor Radames, and the elderly executive and Monitor Torihata remained inscrutable. Looking back at all his subordinates, to NULL, NIGHTHAWK and FLY GIRL, HUNK made a gesture for them to stand down as well. The wall of red lights shifted off the Colonel and his men in an instant as every weapon lowered. The two of them remained where they were... his hand on the sheath of his combat knife... the Colonel's upon his double sided blade. The Colonel's grey eye glinted with amusement, intrigue, matching the tone of his voice, alive from the high of the near bloodbath.

"That was exhilarating, comrade. We could make it even more so. Are you going to kill me this time, Death? Try to? Your Lady is not here to restrain you... did you learn her restraint? I should hope not. Some of the old you clearly must remain, within that armor. The warrior, instead of the machine. Think about it... no pistols... ourselves, our talents and a crowd of onlookers... just as it was last time. Knives as well, I think, this time. To make things more interesting. The many exaggerated stories claim you are a man without fear... a Grim Reaper... if that is so, why do you hide your face? I should very much like to reap the Grim Reaper. Spill your entrails upon this flight deck... show them all what you are. A man. Flesh and blood. A false legend. Nothing more. Claim that mask for a trophy. Furnish the G-Virus from your corpse. Much as I would hate to give SHIPMASTER's fine crew such a dirty mop up job. Perhaps the UT Commander and his Trashsweepers would enjoy it... cleaning away the garbage is more their area of expertise. It is only a shame you came to me wounded... I would have preferred a rematch with you in your prime... but I can live with life's many disappointments. We are both so well accustomed to them."

There it was... out in the open. Colonel Vladimir throwing down the gauntlet, wanted the fight... a rematch, one on one... it was there on his face, in his words. His tensed muscles and familiar combat stance. Looking as he had on the beach those years ago. The cold, steely grey eye and scarred hand tensing towards his double blade, tightening around the grip, aching to draw it. He had been dreaming of it since Rockfort Island. It would be the Colonel's consolation prize after his embarrassments within Raccoon City, and for the exchange of words that had just taken place. Under any other circumstances, HUNK would have taken him up on it without a second thought. Longing to topple him again. The old him the Colonel spoke of would have done it. Would not have stopped until one of them was dead. Consequences be damned. Yet the truth was, in his state... HUNK knew the outcome. The giant bastard would win easily. Effortlessly. They both knew that. It was why the Colonel wanted one now, knowing the odds, the virtual guarantee of victory. Nikolai had been difficult enough, in his condition... and it had only worsened him. If he fought the Colonel again, it would have to be one day... not now. Nor would he risk a firefight on the Leviathan that might ensue... with how close to the edge both sides already were. Thanks to himself, in part. Tightly wound. They had enough problems already... the interservice rivalry could wait. Others didn't have to die for their feud. He had a mission... a promise to keep to Director Henri... too much was at stake here, and they had enough enemies, without tearing one another apart.

Pretty soon it would be them against the world... and like it or not, they would have to be united when that happened. When the rest of the shit hit the fan. His pride did not factor into the accomplishment of missions or keeping promises he had made. Or supersede the lives of his subordinates and fellow employees. Despite the great temptation, HUNK had little problem with disappointing the Colonel further.

"I'm too tired. Maybe later. It'll be a long boat ride."

"Of course... make your feeble excuses and go rest, then. Flee like the coward you are... along with your lovely little doctor. Run to your Countess' protective embrace... lick your wounds... and save face.", The Colonel returned, with a mixture of deep anger and amusement flitting across his features. A disappointment visibly shared by a number of the others in the crowd, the onlookers. While others, most of them, wore masks of relief. "For what it is worth... this has been rejuvenating. Refreshingly honest... compared to the backroom politics. Tedious bureaucracy and treachery. If only it could be like this all the time. Only soldiers... and warriors... can be so candid and honest with their foe."

"You're more bureaucrat than you are soldier, Colonel. Have been since the Cold War ended. Outlived your usefulness."

"Wars never end... merely take another form. My usefulness continues so long as there is war, comrade. You of all people should know that."

"I know that I didn't see you down there in Raccoon City with your troops... fighting to prevent the outbreak's spread. Where were you on the 25th?"

"Where were you? I was doing my duty to the company... carrying out Lord Spencer's will... while you cowered among excrement and rats in a sewer. Your natural habitat, amid refuse. Your failure with Birkin unleashing the outbreak in the first place. Your colossal failure and burden to bear. Go now. Before I change my mind and send your dear frog Countess your head. Were it not for your success I would have you thrown in the brig... taken somewhere far less... hospitable than Rockfort Island."

"You would try."

"We are finished here."

The Colonel's clipped voice returned sharply, the cold, evident fury was only growing... frustration he could not get his way... that there would be no fight. His giant hand at last leaving the handle of his unique blade, while HUNK did the same of his combat knife. HUNK glanced from him to the nearby elderly Umbrella executive who had been with him, quite calmly breathing on the oxygen tank's apparatus. He merely stared back at the agent, as unreadable as ever and inclined his head in a manner that might have been respect. Perhaps pleased with Vladimir's irritation, to see him one upped. The Colonel did not rule his Inner Circle by less than intimidation and fear... likely he wasn't the only one in its ranks who would be pleased by what had taken place. And then there was Director Nielsen at his side, who looked a great deal paler than he had minutes ago. As though resisting the urge to throw up... hurriedly looking away from HUNK again when his eyes fell on the pencil pusher. A faint amusement touched Monitor Torihata's normally serious features... though over what, he could not be certain. Slowly, HUNK turned away from the Colonel and his mercenaries, stepping back down towards the other U.S.S. Agents and waiting doctor... who was breathing a bit easier. Something else occurred to him... then. And he reconsidered departing just yet. Pausing in his tracks before reaching the others and looking back around to the Colonel who remained where he was, watching HUNK with a thickening, cold, silent contempt. His calm, muffled tone correcting the Colonel's last sentence.

"Almost finished. There was one last matter, actually."

"And what is that, Death? Speak quickly, and be gone."

"Tell me something, Colonel... do you know that you flew out of Raccoon City with more than you went in to get?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You worked through proxies throughout this entire event. You tried to have your people... Monitor Torihata over there... find and seize Doctor Yurika Cameron and her research... her E-Virus. Executer. Whatever the hell she was working on for Lord Spencer that was so damn important. You failed. You tried to delay and overturn my mission so your Tyrants could acquire the G-Virus instead. You failed. You sent the Nemesis to murder each of the remaining S.T.A.R.S. You failed. Most of them weren't even in the city when you unleashed it. I suppose that's what happens with a lack of intel... when you can't afford to risk picking up the phone and asking the U.I.D. for help with an unauthorized mission. The only thing you succeeded in was acquiring U.M.F.-013."

"Cease your babble and drivel and speak some sense."

"Despite everything you did to try and steal it for yourself... a sample of Golgotha was right there beneath your nose, at the end, and you couldn't even see it. You never had a... ghost of a chance of acquiring it. I think I'll let that little mystery keep you up tonight. Wondering what I know that you don't. More than usual."

At the dumbfounded look that slowly formed on the Colonel's face... the equal confusion of his men, glancing at one another... HUNK felt a satisfied smile forming within the mask. That priceless expression on the Colonel alone was all he needed now to be satisfied. No fight required. He turned on his boot and left the disconcerted Colonel there with his Elites and corrupt pair of executives... going back down to his agents... to NIGHTHAWK, NULL, FLY GIRL and Doctor Radames. Feeling his heart beating quicker, even as he held a calm on the surface. Between how close it had been, and the attention of all the onlookers. At least relieved to know he would soon be safely away from the flight deck of the Leviathan. Very gradually most of the crowd began to disperse, the chatter resuming, a sea of voices, crewmen going back to their tasks murmuring to each other about what had happened, looking between the U.S.S. and the U.B.C.S. To the Colonel still trying to figure it out. Just then, he focused ahead. Reaching them, he looked to NIGHTHAWK first... seeing the exposed, satisfied smile the older man wore as well below the face plate of the pilot's helmet. Issuing the veteran pilot a command.

"Have QUARTERMASTER sent up from the tech lab and armory to Doctor Radames lab, when he's available. Need to speak with him about this laptop. Breaking an encryption."

"After that verbal ass kicking? Just might go fetch you some coffee while I'm at it. You got it, man."

"Thank you. And NIGHTHAWK... not over yet, but been a hell of an operation."

"Not too shabby, least for our line of work. Monsters. Ass kicking. Explosions. Even had a twist ending. Scuttlebutt around the ship is you've got some new nicknames coming to you as well, Slayer of Shai-Hulud."

"Hopefully not. I don't require any more."

"Not up to you, I'm afraid. Never seems to be, does it? Ah well. Right here, Mr Death."

The veteran pilot held out a gloved fist in offering, while his other hand tucked away Wildey in his holster. A casual social gesture of sorts HUNK had seen other agents and soldiers share now and again. He had never quite understood it... but then social rituals were often strange. He'd always found them to be. It was different with NIGHTHAWK. Curling his own gloved hand into a fist, he bumped NIGHTHAWK's fist... before lowering his hand to his side, nodding. Then looking over to the young woman at his side in the matching dark grey flight suit and her pilot's helmet. Extending a hand out towards her. The rookie pilot took it after a pause, shaking it right back as he did the same.

"Good to finally meet you, rookie. Welcome aboard, FLY GIRL. Hope you enjoyed your first assignment."

"It was... um... certainly different, sir. To put it mildly.", The young pilot's accented voice returned, releasing a slight titter of laughter, lips visible under the face plate smiling at him. NIGHTHAWK stood back where he was with a smirk of his own on his stubble lined features, arms folding comfortably over his flight suit. Observing the two silently. "Quite the roller coaster from start to finish. Still trying to process it. Feels like I stepped into a spy thriller movie or something. I think I like it, sir."

"Take your time. And plenty more where that came from. Can count on that. You get used to it. For better or worse."

"Thank you, Agent HUNK. It's been an honor, sir. And for the better... I hope."

HUNK did not reply to that, or her hopeful smile... instead silently mulling it over for a moment. Feeling a shade of discomfort at the optimism she displayed... how much she seemed to have enjoyed it. He wondered what it was that had drawn her to Umbrella in the first place. To a life like theirs. Whatever other choice of careers she could have made. She had made the wrong one in coming to Umbrella. Especially to the U.S.S. Especially now. That smile of hers would die... turn cold and fade within a few years. If the company survived so long. If she survived so long. But it would do no good to tell her that. She was already committed... had partaken in a mission. And he could not say anything to her around so many others. At last his hand withdrew from the young woman's, and glancing over to the nearby NULL with her security team... the masked and helmeted veteran agent gave him a respectful, knowing nod that HUNK returned. No words were needed. She had his back, in spite of their differences, and the tense confrontation back in the Arklay Mountains. He wasn't about to forget that fact anytime soon, nor his appreciation. Before he could turn back to the blonde doctor, he looked back down towards the Colonel and his ring of supporters among the formation of Elites... the thoroughly pissed off Colonel was avoiding eye contact with him, but the displeasure writ large on his face, speaking rapidly to the elderly executive, Director Nielsen, Commander Arnold... and Monitor Torihata, who alone of the assembled men wasn't paying any attention to the Colonel, just then. Rather he stared back down the deck of the Leviathan to HUNK once more, gaze not wavering from behind his glasses. Something changed in his impassive, unreadable features, then... and he looked at HUNK the way a proud, pleased parent might, smiling benignly. Offering a knowing wink as well to the U.S.S. Agent before turning his attention back to his thoroughly displeased, giant superior, the smile fading again as quickly as it had appeared. HUNK stood there finding himself filled with confusion... they had never spoken a word to each other before, and any looks from the Monitor back in the day had been the usual ones of sour disdain that the Colonel's men always had reserved for him.

Perhaps HUNK was not the only Umbrella operative who had undergone an altering experience, in Raccoon City. Likely the mission to search for the unfortunate Doctor Cameron and her Executer Virus had nearly been as harrowing as Operation: NESTWRECKER. Humbled him a bit, perhaps. Still, there were stranger and more pressing matters to attend to than contemplating the odd behavior of some Monitor. It wasn't his problem. HUNK merely shook his head, then at last began turning back over to the nearby blonde doctor.

"Alright doctor. I'm ready for that checkup now."

"I think from that constipated look on the Colonel, he's going to need one more than you.", Doctor Radames couldn't hide a smile, despite her earlier fear at the confrontation. Recovering rapidly. Visibly exhilarated a bit, though exasperated. She moved over quickly, wrapping her arm around HUNK's waist and wrapping his around her shoulders. Steering them down the deck and through the parting crowd... several security agents following them as an escort, keeping others at bay. "You two are like boys with toys. Is it... always that exciting around here when it comes to U.S.S. missions?"

"Haven't seen anything. Stick around."

"I just might. I thought you were going to be the one in danger, there. You just put Lord Spencer's goddamn right hand man on trial."

"Never said I was going to be the defendant. Not yet, at least. Not to him."

"Silly me, not listening better. What was that bit at the end that got him all riled up?"

"Over, is what it is. For now."

"Fine... play it mysterious, if you must."

"Worked for me this long, hasn't it?"

Doctor Radames merely smiled at that, smile lingering the rest of the way. HUNK looked upwards... to the observation window of the bridge, where a number of figures still stood watching the exchange that had happened on the main deck. He saw SHIPMASTER and Sir Maxwell's uniformed figures up there, watching him, speaking to one another... SHIPMASTER puffing away at his cigar, Sir Maxwell with his pipe. SENTINEL lurking nearby behind them, the SSO fully kitted up in uniform, body armor and weaponry, flanked by two ship security subordinates, scowling down at the flight deck. Undoubtedly the most displeased of the three by the exchange that had just taken place. HUNK's jaw tightened, and he looked back ahead to their path, putting the three of them from his mind for now, knowing he'd have to face up to the consequences of the encounter with the Colonel soon enough. With luck it would be put off, long enough for him to get some rest and recovery. By now they had passed over most of the flight deck towards the command center. As they did, and as much of the crowd had parted... HUNK caught sight of another standing figure among them. A lone figure others were avoiding, leaning back against a railing comfortably with his arms folded over his specialized, thick, jet black armor with a number of pouches, metal knee pads and taut bodysuit resembling a skin tight wetsuit. The material on his broad arms a lighter grey, clashing with the darkness of the rest of the attire, and the gloves at the end of the sleeves. State of the art lightweight yet durable material, the bodysuit. Not quite a Battle Suit... but closer to it than even the U.S.S. uniform and body armor. A good deal of expenses had gone into his unit... and especially him and his gear, as the lone human that comprised it, mass production of his gear not being required as it was for the U.S.S. and U.B.C.S. The figure having been watching the earlier confrontation quietly from his position... slipping silently on to the deck at some point during the exchange. A heavily armed and armored figure, a single man at ease, even alone amid all the rival factions aboard the Leviathan. A black tinted Steyr AUG Assault rifle slung across his back. Modified with an impressive scope for sniping, a silencer, an attached grenade launcher... while a laser sight was pointedly absent from the customized assault rifle. Along with a number of throwing knives sheathed on his armor and dual silenced Glock 18's with extended magazines holstered on either side of his waist.

The twin glowing red ocular lens of the masked Undertaker Commander's night and thermal goggles brightened, meeting HUNK's stare for a long moment. Adorned in a helmet, gas mask, rebreather and said goggles all in one... designed along with the suit by QUARTERMASTER personally for the Commander. It even altered the man's voice, made it harsher, mechanical, unrecognizable... though the mysterious figure did not speak at once. Instead he simply nodded HUNK's way very slightly. A respectful gesture he returned to his nameless, faceless, and unofficial rival. Where many of their co workers privately mocked him as the Commander of an army of 'midget monkeys in scuba suits' owing to their sizes and the sounds they made... as he had heard some of his subordinates and the U.B.C.S. men referring to him as, the UT Commander was the only one of his rivals he respected. A cold, hard, terse, no nonsense professional. It also helped neither of them were were strangers to being whispered about and mocked in private, until they passed around the next corridor of course. Then it suddenly grew quiet among the gossipers. Feared and envied by other employees. Though in his case... the UT Commander was not nearly as admired as HUNK was, wasn't a poster boy of anything, had no powerful benefactors supporting him. While he served Director Owens of Umbrella HQ often, there was no benefactor situation there, nothing personal. In the end he was simply a skilled clean up guy for whichever faction and executive needed his expertise. There were often times he wished he could trade places and uniforms with his fellow employee, there. The spotlight at last taken off him, and able to simply focus on his work. But then... he could not inflict such a fate on the other man. In any case, mockery or not, the Undertaker Unit had a success rate that was leagues ahead of the majority of the U.B.C.S., much to Colonel Vladimir's displeasure, to have so many of his platoons surpassed by a clean up crew. They even surpassed a number of the U.S.S. Units. Even if they were comprised of self disposing B.O.W.'s, save the masked man who oversaw them, at least they weren't mercenaries.

The rest of his Undertaker Unit was down below deck on the B.O.W. cryostasis level... a level of the ship that SHIPMASTER kept especially well secured, including top U.S.S. Agent guards with Linear Launchers, Charged Particle Rifles, Spark Shots, Incinerator Units and various other powerful anti B.O.W. weaponry and devices. SHIPMASTER took no chances when it came to hauling such deadly cargo as B.O.W.'s and Tyrants, openly voicing his discontent with it on a number of occasions to Sir Maxwell and even to himself. If more Umbrella facilities took after his precautions, likely there would never be any outbreaks in the first place. And fewer suicide missions for the 1st U.S.S. Unit and him to undertake. Fewer iterations of Alpha Team he'd had to put together. As such, the Cleaners remained tucked away frozen in their pods like Vladimir's Tyrants, until the next deployment, whenever and wherever that proved to be around the world. The Commander's deep, steely, mechanized voice emerged through his mask, then, aimed at the Alpha Team leader alone.

"I can't believe you're not dead, yet."

"Grim Reaper... remember? If the shoe fits..."

"How could I forget, Death? Watching that satellite feed was almost worth being stuck on this boat. Waiting a deployment that never came. That giant worm alone you slew could have been a mission for my entire unit. Try to leave the rest of us a bit of work in the future."

"No promises, Commander. Plenty of work for both of us on its way though, before long. Now that the shit is hitting the fan. Your Cleaners are about to become a hell of a sought after commodity."

"Lucky me. Meantime, I'll enjoy watching the view of the ocean... and Vladimir sulking. Don't get to see that every day."

"Going to be seeing more of it, I'm sure. More pressing matters to deal with, right now. Enjoy yourself, Commander."

"Intend to. Try not to bleed out on the way to the medical deck. Adios, agent. Carla."

Doctor Radames looked between the two masked men speculatively, looked as though she wanted to reply to the Commander's acknowledgment, say or even ask something... but held her tongue, refrained. As the two broke off their brief interaction, she took the hint and pulled him along again instead, away from the UT Commander and into the command center, reaching the elevators inside it. Passing under the ever watchful gaze of the many security cameras along the way, as the Commander too watched them go, not moving a muscle from his spot where he leaned comfortably on the flight deck. Various U.S.S. Agents and other security personnel and naval crewmen and women froze in the midst of what they were doing and saluted as he passed, clearing out of their way. One of them opening the elevator door for them. Moving within they turned around, and she hit the button for the medical deck. The doors closed, mercifully cutting off the view of the packed stairs, corridor and sound of the assorted chatter... the many watching them. The elevator came to life, rumbling, and it began its descent at once. They stood together in silence, just the two of them... apart from the rumbling of the elevator and the upbeat music pouring out of it. Oddly not as irritating as it had been back in Raccoon City. In this moment, at least. Welcome and preferable to the sea of voices. Her own voice quietly and hesitantly spoke up a bit, then, addressing what she had just witnessed.

"I'm not even going to ask you what the story of that guy back there is. All I know is that he gives me and many others here the creeps. Almost as much as those Cleaners of his. It's like he's more machine than man sometimes, stalking down the corridors. And that voice. Never seen him without that mask either. He spends more of his time on the Leviathan down on the cryostasis deck than Colonel Vladimir does. With those... hooting and screeching things. His unit. Probably sleeps down there in one of the pods as well."

"Asking me wouldn't gain you any answers. I know about as much about him as you do. Nor do I care for idle speculation and gossip. I know that he is good at what he does. A professional. That's enough for me."

"Makes one of us, at least. I've always been too curious for my own good... force of habit."

"So I've noticed."

"Must be nice not being the biggest mystery on this ship, for a change."

"Has its moments."

A silence returned a bit longer, amid the music. HUNK looked back at their reflections in the metal doors, before something occurred to him. And he spoke it, as he might not have before all this. Feeling genuine curiosity as well... and the desire to ask.

"Speaking of curiosity. Why did you request to serve in a part time advisory capacity for the U.S.S.? Could have accepted a posting at any Umbrella facility in the world, with your talent. Any company. Why Umbrella?"

"You're asking me something about myself?", Doctor Radames started with genuine surprise, looking back over to him... smile deepening faintly. Pretending to check his temperature, putting a hand to the forehead of his helmet. "Maybe that head wound did a little more damage than I thought. You're going to need those x-rays."

"Funny. Well?"

"It was something different. I wanted to help people directly with my knowledge... instead of being stuck in a lab underground somewhere all the time. Need to get out now and again. Access to the Leviathan's facilities, tech and resources didn't hurt either. State of the art. This is an important place on the front lines. I received a number of offers in the years after I finished my doctorate... TRICELL was interested... as well as a wealthy, kind, well connected gentleman in the U.S. Government. I nearly took his offer too. He told me it was still on the table if my employment here didn't work out. Umbrella came along out of nowhere. Made me feel right at home, here. They made me a tempting offer I couldn't refuse. ."

"Yes. They certainly do that.", HUNK returned quietly, jaw tightening within the mask, knowing all too well what she spoke of. Better than her. Another pair of green eyes coming to mind that didn't belong to the doctor. He moved the topic on. "Think about coming into the field more often? Had a small taste of it."

"I'll... have to give it some thought. It was exciting... but all those guns waving around. I'm a scientist, not a field operative. I'm not a killer. Sexy as all that testosterone can be, the risk might not be for me."

"Now you're learning."

"If only you would learn to keep your head down. Though I like this oddly thoughtful you.", The doctor informed him, smile deepening a bit as the elevator beeped, coming to a stop. Reaching the medical deck. The doors parting ways for them, revealing the corridor of the medical deck. "Either it's the head wound talking, that good looking warrior girl of yours, or both."

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Uh huh. Sure you don't. Not like I saw any of that satellite footage, after all. Come on, tough guy. You have an appointment to keep."

Doctor Radames led him through the open doors and out into the familiar corridors of the deck. Passing more uniformed medical and security staff along the way, numerous rooms on each side of the hall, where patients were being checked up on. A number of agents and mercenaries who had fought at the Quarantine Zone, from the look of it. Thankfully they moved too quickly for most of them to spot him... but it wasn't long before the passing staff on the deck caught sight of him with Doctor Radames. HUNK retreated away partially in his mind, at the sight of heads turning... the attention and realization of who he was, and that he was back. Alarm and surprise on familiar and strange faces alike. It was tiresome... especially so now. With each moment it seemed he looked more and more forward to his withdrawal from the rest of the Leviathan. He looked forward to the isolation of her lab... away from the stares and murmurs. With only those he trusted nearby. His back to the wall. Finally, they reached the inviting door to her medical lab and she pushed it open, the two of them going inside... her kicking the door shut behind them, sealing them away safely within... and flicking on the lights. The welcomely familiar, spacious yet cluttered interior came into view again... a few beds, monitoring equipment, desk with framed pictures graduation on it... of herself at her graduation... friends and teachers... but none of a family. He recalled the Comtesse informing him of her when she had first taken the post, providing a detailed file... that she had been orphaned young... had managed to succeed, in spite of everything against her. Beat the odds. He respected that a good deal.

There were computers at the desk and around the lab as well, a television, radio, medical supplies and cabinets, beakers and test tubes, microscopes, examination table... MRI machine... and a security camera watching over it all. Her state of the art, pristine lab had always seemed a one room hospital, laboratory, apartment and office in itself. And this was but one of the many rooms on the medical deck. A home within a home. One of his many... he had been up here often enough. With many other doctors over the years, the ones preceding her. Though he had the feeling he would be in here longer than usual this time. He looked to the door in the lab to the washroom and shower... half of him wanting to go there and start it up... the other half certain the first blast of hot water would knock him over, in his condition. One thing at a time. He looked on to the sealed cryogenic storage room, where she kept a number of biological samples. No B.O.W.'s, of course, but materials for a steady access for her work. Over through the window of the other door on the far end of the lab in the neighboring room, HUNK caught sight of Nikolai laying in the hospital bed under heavy guard, tended to by a plethora of nurses, doctors, surgeons, and overseen by fully armed and armored U.S.S. Agents. Secured firmly to the bed with a number of medical restraints. He remained unconscious... though he wasn't sure if it was from being knocked out, or if he was being kept under. He had equipment all around the bed, with devices plugged into him... relieved of his armor and uniform. No longer the maddened warrior HUNK had battled on the rooftop... but pathetic, defeated and broken. As much as he wished he had killed Nikolai... there was a certain poetic justice to the sight. And he still wasn't finished with Nikolai by a damn sight. No expense would be spared to keep him alive... to make sure he made it to his final destination, when the time for it came. He would not get the comfortable death in the bed of a hospital. Doctor Radames grip and voice brought him back from his dark thoughts, then.

"Let's get you a seat on the examination table... and strip you down to your bodysuit. I need to see your midsection."

"I bet."

"Without the naughty quips. That's more my territory more than yours, remember?"

"Only too well, doctor."

Doctor Radames' smile deepened at that, and she helped him over to the examination table, helping him turn around and sit upon it, before retracting and turning on the light overhead. It shone down brightly, illuminating HUNK's entire form under a spotlight. She went to a nearby trolley and brought it over close to the examination table to hold his equipment, while setting down Nikolai's backpack atop it. HUNK, with the doctor's concerned assistance, carefully removed his helmet and mask again first, drawing a low breath of the lab's cool air and setting each down on the trolley, before removing his gloves as well. He unclipped the belt at his waist, setting it and the attached holster containing Matilda, his side packs and medical bag down on part of the long trolley. Next he carefully reached for the backpack already on the trolley... opening it and removing the laptop case, shifting it over to the trolley... then he began to remove his faded yellow combat harness, with Doctor Radames continued assistance. Grunting painfully now and again at certain movements, feeling it slamming through his rib cage. Something was broken... or some muscle torn, he was almost certain of it. Pausing for a moment and breathing slowly, working to keep his head clear of the pain. To ignore the ringing in his ears as well, the slight dizziness now and again. Fighting through it, as her reassuring voice spoke up again, a quiet murmur in his ear. Her hand on his good shoulder tightening.

"It's ok, HUNK. You're almost there. One piece at a time."

HUNK didn't say a word, but nodded, silently appreciating it. When he was ready to continue, he undid his metal elbow pads next along with his knee pads, them he did a fair bit more carefully, releasing some of the burning pain, the ache in the swollen, throbbing part. Studying the broken metal from Nikolai's bullet that the knee pad had managed to take... the round still embedded amid the metal and material. Then he wrapped up the elbow pads and knee pads together and set them aside as well. Removing the flashlight mounted to his vest and sheathed combat knife, setting them down on either side of Matilda. Before gradually removing the black plate carrier body armor vest next, he took a moment to feel the familiar titanium sample container within a particular pouch. Jaw tightening... part of him wishing it hadn't been there. Even if it was his only lifeline left. When he had unstrapped the vest, she helped draw it off his form, looking over the bullet ridden material as she set it down on the trolley... all the marks and burns and scratches on it, as well as the battle scarred helmet and damaged mask. Looking quite disquieted suddenly by everything he had survived. Sympathetic. Finally, his hands found the zipper to his dark grey bodysuit, and slowly he began to draw it downwards... all the way to his waist... and with her help pealing it back off his shoulder carefully not to further damage the right one. Once it was drawn down his upper body, he grunted as he removed the black zipper tank top he wore beneath, pulling it off his battered frame and casting it aside with his equipment on the trolley. No sense in having her cut off and waste a perfectly good shirt, when he could take the pain. Lastly he looked to the ID Wristband he had used to access NEST... had stolen off a dead scientist... and slipped it off as well, setting it aside with everything else. When his upper body was fully exposed for her at last, he heard a sharp breath registered from her. The moment she saw it her hand drew back from him, mouth opening in alarm.

"Oh my God, HUNK. How were you still up and walking around? Much less all the fighting. I can't... imagine the pain..."

"Nothing I can't manage, doctor. Was trained for this. For everything."

HUNK assured her quietly, looking between her, and towards a mirror on the other side of the room. Watched himself sitting upon the examination table with her standing at his side, hovering over him. Much of his upper body and midsection was covered in ugly purple bruises and welts by now. Muscles aching with every movement. The air against his heated flesh only made it sting and throb further. Deep cuts as well that had smeared now dried blood along himself. A number of additions to the scarring that had already been there. A bearded, exhausted man with glazed over eyes stared back at himself from the mirror. Face heavily bruised and cut up. But the man wasn't a stranger. Not anymore. He had seen this grey eyed man after other operations... though never quite this way. Something was different... something had changed in his eyes. As the rest of the world had changed to them. Even when he recovered physically, he knew the rest of him would not. He saw and felt her hand touch his back... tracing along it... examine the bruises on it.

He remembered the Nemesis throwing him against the light post of the courtyard... the sturdy armor alone was the reason he hadn't broke his back, he was certain. It was no Battle Suit, yet QUARTERMASTER always did fine work. Her touch was cool... gentle... and welcome. He closed his eyes for a moment, and breathed silently. Able to relax... knowing she meant well. Cared. And would help. It wasn't the first time the young woman had seen him like this, of course... seen the scars... but her care each time was appreciated. Concern. Compared to most of the other doctors he'd had over his career... he believed it was genuine. She could be trusted... as so few could in his life. He wished they were Jill's hands... but if they couldn't be hers, best they were the doctor's. He could hear the distant echoes of voices and footsteps in the corridor, the murmurs and machine sounders in the nearby room Nikolai occupied... but none of it mattered now. It was a world away. He felt her hand again, this time it stung more... touching his injured shoulder gently. He opened his eyes to see her hand tracing the bandage there, her calm, soothing voice murmuring to him again.

"Did you do this patch job?"

"Valentine."

"Hmm... not a bad job for an amateur medical practitioner. Still... she missed a few spots... and you're going to need some stitching. Not just on the shoulder. You're going to have quite a few additions to your scar collection, when all is said and done."

"Do whatever you have to."

"Don't I always?"

On that wry note as she examined his wounds, she paused a moment. Reaching over for a nearby remote on her desk, Doctor Radames flicked on the overhead television set. In a flash the news was on... HUNK's eyes rising up to the screen... a press conference of the U.S. Government, live from the White House. The familiar dark haired President, standing there up at the podium solemnly in a grey suit, white shirt and red tie, giving a speech as cameras went off around him. The volume was muted... but he got the gist of it from the rolling text and subtitles under the screen and Carla's calm narrating voice while she set down the remote again and continued examining him.

"Huh... so the President has assumed full responsibility for Raccoon City. Scuttlebutt around the ship was speculating he would step down... guess a few people just won some bets. Well... at least Congress and the public will have forgotten about him dicking his interns... though he'd probably prefer it, about now. No impeachment necessary. Sadly we'll never officially know if he did 'have sexual relations with that woman'. You think that crazy Lady Macbeth wife of his is going to run next?"

"Don't know. Don't care."

"Either way, now that limp wristed environmental alarmist Vice President gets a couple years. No chance he holds on to it in the next election. The only climate change people will fear now is going to be bioweapons related. That scam artist will end up another Ford in history, at best. Governor George W. Graham out of Texas is going full fire and brimstone on Capitol Hill over this Raccoon City catastrophe. A bit bumbling, but stronger, and you can bet the public is going to be with him, especially given his father already held office. Responsible church going family man too, a more supportive less scheming wife, three perfect daughters. Cultivated a better, more moral public image than the former President. Can bet he would get elected even without Raccoon City. Now it's a sure thing."

"Didn't know you were so into politics, Doctor Radames. World affairs."

"There's a lot you don't know about me. Though I like that you're starting to wonder.", She smiled over to him faintly with a knowing wink. Unaware just how much he did know about her, evidently. No sense informing her of such. "Have to be politically knowledgeable in this company. You're adept at it yourself... from that business outside... even if you hate it."

"For better or worse."

"For better, based on how you maneuvered the Colonel. Don't think he saw it coming."

"Had a good teacher."

"I bet she is. Always heard the French were a remarkably romantic, passionate sort of folk as well. Job has its perks, huh?"

The doctor returned coyly, though HUNK did not respond to her playful, knowing tone. Not taking the evident bait... despite some admitted temptation. Finishing her examination, she rose and went and retrieved all her needed medical supplies and set them on a tray, returning to HUNK at the examination table, setting up and getting to work. She removed the bandage Jill had put on him to examine the wound, shaking her head sympathetically. He ignored the pain... more tired than pained anyways. She took the time to give him a bit of anesthetic though, to numb the area slightly... before she got to work with the surgical stapling gun, stitching up the stab wound after inspecting it. Pressing the device to his flesh. Little by little she closed it up, and applied fresh First Aid Spray, green and red herbs, and a fresh bandage. That particular wound took her the longest... the others more simple, but enough of them to take some time. She got to work on the deep cuts on his back as well, moving in behind him and stitching away. All the while HUNK stared up and ahead at the television. The figures stirring on it, and the camera flashes and even muted already hearing the flurry of reporters voices asking the President questions. Watching the subtitles... though watching the faces of the government officials first and foremost.

He saw Simmons among the assembled government advisers and officials with the President... the head of the Family watching the President speak... his neatly bearded, solemn face giving away nothing of his part in it all. And his attempt to bolster the government's bioweapons program. His own bioweapons program, really. He didn't look put off by his failed attempt to procure the G-Virus... maybe he had found another source, somewhere. He remembered Ada... waving GHOST's sample at him teasingly through the binoculars. Had she been acting on his behalf? She had worked for him before, as she had Shén Yà Pharmaceutical. Or was it another more shadowy employer? Either way... the virus would cause trouble in the future. Birkin's legacy. And not merely from Umbrella. Simmons would get away with it too... HUNK knew... with the President taking the fall like this. He saw the crooked Senator Ron Davis among them as well... on Umbrella's payroll, along with WilPharma's and whichever other company. TRICELL Inc., most likely. Selling his soul to as many corporations as he could. He would get away with it as well. He wondered what Simmons had on the President to make him throw it all away. He would have another corrupt politician's ear to whisper in soon enough... to dance to his tune. The true power within the White House. Either way, he felt an ember of irritation just looking at the man. Knowing what he did. There was little to no justice in the world... HUNK knew. Politics, like war, wasn't about fairness... it was about winning. There was nothing new about that... he was used to it. But somehow... it still bothered him at times. More so now, after Jill. Her righteous struggle against Raccoon City's corrupt officials... silenced by them, until it was too late to stop what had happened. What he had helped set into motion as well. It wasn't right. He hoped she ended up able to take a scythe to the government criminals, with all the evidence she had gathered in her ongoing investigation. More of it to come, no doubt. Just as he hoped she would be the one to end up hauling Mayor Warren out of whatever tropical paradise he was partying in right now. As he mulled over that welcome image of the Mayor surrounded by government agents, a voice spoke up then, from behind him... and from behind Doctor Radames as well, it seemed.

"Uh... Doctor Radames? Could I have a minute?"

HUNK looked back from the television and over his shoulder, despite the aching pain of the movement, as the doctor did the same. There standing in the doorway leading further into the medical deck, to Nikolai's room where the doctors and nurses moved about, stood one such pretty young nurse in her white medical scrubs, her red hair tied back carefully. Looking back at the doctor and HUNK with a nervous, hesitant smile where she stood, hands fidgeting away. HUNK remained silent where he sat, merely observing the two young women, as the doctor's mildly irritated tone spoke up at the interruption in the midst of her task.

"What is it, Alice? Can't you see I'm quite preoccupied here?"

"This um... Nikolai guy you had the agents haul in. He's a real mess. The chief surgeon wants to hear your rundown on him before we get into it. Make sure nothing's missing."

"Isn't it self evident the extent of his injuries? Oh very well then...", Doctor Radames sighed under her breath dramatically, shaking her head and looking back again from the nurse. Meeting HUNK's eyes instead, setting a hand on his good shoulder and gripping it. "HUNK, stay put. I'll be back in a few. No wondering off, or I'll track you down myself and have you put in medical restraints of your own. Tie you to your bed. You know I'll do it too."

"Wouldn't dream of giving you any ideas, doctor."

"Already have plenty of them."

"So I've gathered. Incentive for them, then."

"For the best. I have a fair amount of that already too."

On that teasing note, patting his good shoulder, fingers trailing down his back a bit, she withdrew from the table and made her way down to join the nurse at the door. HUNK looked back to watch her go... watch her slip through it, while the nurse remained in the doorway, watching him instead of returning to her tasks in Nikolai's room. He offered her a slight nod of acknowledgment... and for that instant she looked like she wanted to say or ask something. He was familiar with it, by now... the attention. The curiosity. Whatever it was didn't get out though, thankfully... Doctor Radames returned for a moment, gripping the girl by the arm and tugging her through the door and into the other room.

"Focus, Alice, you have a patient of your own to attend to. You can ogle mine later. Maybe I'll let you bring him his breakfast. You can ask for a shirtless picture and autograph then."

The U.S.S. Agent caught the almost immediate, familiar blush on the young woman, but the door closed before he could hear her comeback... if there were any. Shaking his head slightly, releasing a breath, he looked away from the door and back ahead to the muted television set. To the press conference of the government. To all the criminals with badges and titles of authority... enemies of Umbrella, and those on Umbrella's payroll. There was a war coming, alright... much as he disliked the politics. Capitol Hill was on fire. People were demanding answers. All this would not be swept fully under the rug... though not for lack of trying. Umbrella and the U.S. Government alike would be deflecting for some time to come. Covering up loose threads. Court battles... and covert operations. The latter would be where he came in... and soon. He had an idea which would be the first of his missions, next... one of the possibilities, at least. As he mulled it over, a familiar beep echoed from the trolley holding his gear... withdrawing him from his contemplation, and HUNK looked over to it, waiting a moment... and it beeped again. The recognition beep of an outside call... from another channel. His radio had been reactivated from the outside. Someone was on the other line waiting for him to pick up and answer. He only needed one guess who that could possibly be, at such a convenient timing. Reaching over to the table, he picked up his helmet and mask at once, turning them over, and withdrawing QUARTERMASTER's advanced communications equipment concealed within them. He slid the earpiece into his ear, looking away from the television and down to the red and shattered lenses of the mask. And then he activated the call, bringing it online... low voice speaking calmly into the channel.

"This who I think it is?"

"Mmm. Who else carries the unrivaled intellect to hack your QUARTERMASTER's ludicrously encrypted devices?", The familiar, amused woman's sophisticated, American voice returned silkily over the line. Drawing a faint smile he knew was on her lips as well. Even if he had never seen them for himself... though now and again had wished that he could. "Really threaded the eye of the needle, didn't you Jack? Always do, when it looks hopeless. You almost gave a lady a heart attack. Especially that bit with the giant worm."

"When required of me. Had plenty of help there, Alex. In the field and afar. More than once. From yourself included. Thank you."

"Whatever would you do without the U.I.D.? Or we the U.S.S. We go hand in hand... you don't need to thank me... but you are welcome, as ever. What was that business about with the Colonel?"

"You were watching that?"

"I'm always watching. You know that. What I'm best at, isn't it? Figured it was a good time to call, with your doctor otherwise preoccupied."

At her amused, wry tone, HUNK glanced up as she spoke to the security camera in the lab he was all but sure she was watching him on. On some computer screen. Somewhere. His smile deepened as he looked back at it, and spoke again.

"Naturally. Getting yourself an eyeful, like that nurse was?"

"Really now, Jack. Fond of you though I might be, I am hardly one of your fawning, girlish admirers."

"Never took you for one. A reason we get along, perhaps."

"My privacy invasions are strictly for Umbrella's interests, not my own. A pleasant view on a camera now and again is merely a bonus. Is it my fault if your code name fits?"

"Touche."

"What were you doing with Vladimir?"

"Was just sorting out where we both stood. Drawing a line in the sand. Think the Colonel got the message. For now."

"You boys and your old fashioned pissing matches. Gotta love it though. Has a certain juvenile charm. I'll have to rewatch it, when I find the time. See the highlights. About time someone told him what you did."

"Long time coming. Not going to give me any grief about Valentine and the others?"

"Of course not, Jack. I am not the Inner Circle, nor the Colonel or Nikolai. You'll be hearing plenty of it as is. Payed a big enough price already to complete your mission. I Just feel sorry for that poor Valentine girl. Can't help who we fall for."

"She's... had a rough life and time of it, despite her youth. Even before Raccoon City and the Arklay Mountains. I wouldn't be any good for her. It is what it is. Wish it all could have turned out differently."

"Of course you do. You're a half way decent man like that. When you let yourself be. That's something, by Umbrella standards. You saved her life though, and she yours. I'd say that's good enough, for the time being."

"Maybe. I... can't stay on the line.", HUNK returned a bit uncomfortably, not much wishing to get into the topic further. Though also regretting the necessity of having to end the call so soon. Especially given how few times their direct correspondences were. "Much as I'd like to. Operation isn't yet over. I still have tasks to carry out."

"Understandable. You also need some rest, sustenance and recuperation. Going to be a very busy man, soon. You're right. We best cut this short. Just wanted to make sure you were alright myself, instead of through NIGHTHAWK. Don't need your doctor shouting me down over the line. And I have a slew of other matters to attend to, now, in the wake of this thing. Going to have my hands full... no shortage of useful intel for you, when you're ready to get back out in the field."

"Looking forward to it already, Alex. Thanks for the call. It's been an honor working with you. Always is."

"Same for me, my friend. Until next time. Give your Comtesse my regards, when you reach Loire Village. Be safe."

"Aren't I always?"

That drew a pleasant, polite laugh from her. With those kind parting words, Alex deactivated her side of the line, wherever in the world it was she made her headquarters. The U.I.D. had several locations around the world, though was wisely kept off the Leviathan. No sense in Lord Spencer and the Inner Circle putting all their eggs in one basket. Smile lingering, HUNK turned off his side of the channel as well, taking out his earpiece and communicator, and setting it back up in his mask and helmet, as it was before. Setting each back in their original spots, and retaking his seat. Looking back up at the camera... and raising his hand to her, before lowering it again. Drawing a low breath, ignoring the pain. Finding it a bit less so... in the wake of the welcome call. There was something about the appreciation of someone he'd never really met, seen... even from afar, having seen him, she did not judge him one way or another. Applied no pressure to him in their correspondences. Maybe it was the fact she was older than him, and the lack of face to face contact. And like him, was the best at what she did. A consummate professional. They made a hell of a team, there. As it was with NIGHTHAWK... she was someone he could call a friend... even without knowing her nearly as well as he did the pilot. It was easy to forget about her sometimes, given that fact... but when it was necessary to communicate, and when he needed field intelligence... there was nowhere better to turn to. Who could be counted on. He found he didn't mind her invading his privacy nearly as much as he did others. He was withdrawn from his contemplation by the clicking of heels and the opening of the door behind him on the other side of the lab. Hearing that other familiar, exasperated voice, then.

"I leave home for an hour or two and suddenly the place falls apart.", Doctor Radames spoke with another sigh, shaking her head and closing the door behind her. Heels carrying her back down through the medical lab and towards the table he remained upon. He watched her figure approaching in the nearby mirror, long lab coat trailing in her wake until she reached him, voice speaking closely behind him once more, satisfied. Hand settling on his back. "You've stayed put, at least. Good boy. Know how to follow doctor's orders now and again. Now, where was I?"

"Sewing me up. Keeping me from falling apart."

"Starting to become a second career of mine, that. Forget virology and genetics."

"You're good at it, doctor. Seem to enjoy it as well."

"I do, don't I?"

Her voice turned quite amused at that, and within moments she had resumed her work as though there had been no interruption. He closed his eyes for a long moment as she did so. Relaxing himself... ignoring the pain and exhaustion. Attempting to clear his head, as he had before. In his state, it was increasingly difficult... even more so than it already was in good condition. Too much weighed down on him... and he was tired in a way that had nothing to do with physical exhaustion. Images and faces from Operation: NESTWRECKER returning to him with his eyes closed. Vivid and clear, as though they were happening again. NEST. Birkin. The experiments he had set loose on the facility... the croaking plant-like abominations. The infected... the enemy. The Tyrant. The thing in the graveyard. Nikolai. He attempted to force them to one side... and to focus on one of the few peaceful times of his life. The few memories left that hadn't been corrupted by time, jadedness and abandonment. Experience. But he couldn't quite seem to seize on to one. Those green eyes and that golden hair gave him no more peace or comfort than the memories of his enemies... just now. The memories of her embracing him. They left a sour, bitter taste, now. More and more. Those memories were the enemy. The original one... before all the others that had come. That had come because of the enemy in those old memories. He grimaced, but not at the sensations of pain from the doctor's work. He didn't get long to try to contemplate that further... nor to meditate though, before a door opening, closing and a loud voice jolted him out of it, echoing somewhere ahead of himself.

"Good heavens Agent HUNK!"

HUNK heard a familiar man's English accented voice speak with sharp, genuine alarm. The agent's eyes opened and he slowly looked away from the television and over to the unmistakable white haired older man in a lab coat, standing in the open doorway to the corridor. Wrinkled, clean shaven features lined with alarm, concern and evident dismay as he stared towards the examination table. Carla looked up from her work on his flesh as well, to the Leviathan's resident tech wizard. HUNK spoke before she could, addressing his concerns.

"Not as bad as it looks, old man. No need to be...-"

"What the hell have you done to all my precious equipment?"

"Good to see you again too, QUARTERMASTER.", HUNK's low, dry tone greeted his armorer after a pause, along with a slight tired nod, while Carla merely laughed under her breath and returned to her handiwork. He should have figured the old man's priorities. Nothing ever changed around the Leviathan. "Equipment did its job. Or I wouldn't be here. These uniforms will require another upgrade. They're good, got me this far... but they're no Battle Suit. Could offer a few suggestions."

"Oh pish posh. Do you know how ludicrously expensive all of this is already? And that isn't even getting into the price and effort to create a single enhanced Battle Suit. Mass production for them, for all the U.S.S. Agents, is simply out of the question at this time. Ridiculous. How many times must I tell you that? I don't make the budget. Take it up with the Board Of Directors, we all know your Comtesse would do anything for you."

"We're on a multi billion dollar stealth aircraft carrier, Q. Ferrying around an army and air force, scientists.", Doctor Radames's conversational voice interjected conversationally as she tended to another cut... wiping away some of the dried blood. She smiled between the two men, eyes flickering the old man's way. "And have you even looked at this lab or your own lately? The tech we have? How many resources are pouring in? How is money even an object at this point?"

"And Umbrella didn't get that tremendously wealthy by throwing away already expensive investments, my dear. They add up. The current U.S.S. undersuit and armor model is mostly sufficient, it merely requires further refinement... which I have been doing in my spare time. Which I have several additional ideas for, thank you very much."

"I want that Battle Suit, old man. Tired of the excuses and getting the run around. While I possess Lord Spencer's supreme authority, I suggest you bump it to the top of your lab's to do list."

"Oh pipe down, 'Grim Reaper'. That act doesn't scare me like it does your rookies. Your 'supreme authority' runs out the second you reach Paris. And is related to your mission only, not to Umbrella's financial budgets. You'll take what you get and you will use it and like it. In the meantime, let me take a look here... see what damage you have wrought this time."

QUARTERMASTER moved forward away from the closed door, then, long white lab coat rippling around him, marching across the lab and past HUNK like he wasn't there. He went straight to the trolley with all of HUNK's equipment... going straight to the broken mask and helmet... turning it over in his hands. Uttering a sound of irritation at what he found.

"And there it is, the bloody camera you smashed to pieces. Oh the humanity. You do all this to your camera and existing armor and expect to be rewarded with something so precious as a Battle Suit? Give me a break."

"Can thank Birkin for that. For many things. Long story. The footage should be intact though. You can recover it from the tape in the vest. We can find out later when it stopped running."

"Thank God for small favors."

"Make them more durable next time, and this won't happen again."

"Or you can simply not break them. I could make them as durable as titanium and you would still find a way to destroy them."

QUARTERMASTER's haughty, irritated tone returned, turning his attention to the helmet and body armor as well, picking them up, turning them over. Running his worn hands over the burnt, tattered and shot up material. Fingers running over the giant claw marks the Nemesis had left behind on the metal helmet. Pursing his lips, deep in thought, before nodding to himself and looking back down to HUNK carefully.

"I might be able to remedy most of this damage. Certainly have the leftover material... wouldn't hurt to try. And if not, I'll have a new uniform and armor set sent up for you for Loire Village. I know your Comtesse will want you looking sharp for her. Presented accordingly. Never passes up dressing you in the finest attires. Do try not to have it destroyed before we get to Paris, will you? I heard about that little incident on the flight deck with the Colonel."

"Imagine everyone on the ship has by now. I'll be keeping the damaged helmet, mask, bodysuit and armor as they are. I will be wearing it all to Loire Village."

"Whatever on earth for?"

"The mission is not yet completed. I must present myself as I am until it officially is."

"To the letter to the end, huh? No wonder the board likes you so. As obsessive compulsive as they are."

"One to talk, old man."

"In that case, should the doctor here even be treating you? Present yourself as you are, is that not correct?"

"Funny. But you're here to examine Nikolai's laptop, not for your sense of humor. Or to gripe about negligible financial expenses. You are a tech specialist. An armorer, not an accountant."

"Sometimes I wonder. I'm the one who has to deal with said complaining accountants thanks to your folly in the field.", QUARTERMASTER retorted with a mock scathing look back his way, hands running over the damaged body armor. Tsking and tutting now and again. "This damage is bad enough... but the wholesale equipment loss of your entire team as well? Twenty four full kits lost in addition to this damage? Such a waste. When I get the bill of expenses over that, I'll be sure to forward it to...-"

"The laptop.", HUNK heard his cold, hard voice cut the old man off... finding his faint amusement quickly evaporating at the mention of Alpha Team. Turning to ice. In no further mood for games. An old man's antics. This song and dance routine of theirs. "Now. Or I send down some agents to your tech lab. Drag up someone who can do their job. With the minimum of idle chatter."

"What are you babbling...- ah. Right...", QUARTERMASTER paused himself as Doctor Radames shot him a warning look and shake of her head... remembering himself. And realizing what he had just said to the Alpha Team leader. Looking genuinely contrite to match his words, standing up straighter and meeting HUNK's steely gaze, defusing the matter. "My sincere apologies, Agent HUNK. It had slipped my mind... with everything that has happened. I am overworked, as ever. I meant no insult."

"None is taken."

"I'll take care of this laptop for you. Just give me a little time. I am a technical genius, it is true, but even I require some of it."

"Appreciated. It's yours. Do what you have to."

"Carla, would you be a dear and permit me the usage of your desk?"

"By all means, Desmond. Just don't mess up any of my papers and reports. I finally got them all into order."

"I wouldn't dream of it. I make it a habit to never piss off a virologist and part time medical doctor. Their revenge can prove most creatively grisly. To say nothing of a woman scorned."

"Smart old man."

"With age comes wisdom, my dear... or at least I should hope it does. I know of quite a few chaps my age and profession who don't quite measure up, there. My dubious competition over at Tricell, for example..."

QUARTERMASTER, chuckling at that wry thought, set aside HUNK's armor at last and retrieved the laptop case from the trolley. Passing the two of them at the examination table, he went back down to Carla's desk, carefully setting aside the papers and reports and her keyboard, clearing up some room. Taking a seat and withdrawing the laptop, setting up and booting it up at once and getting to work. Attaching a decryption device to it he withdrew from one of his coat pockets. His fingers raced into a flurry on the keys as he worked to hack the laptop, eyes studying the code, a man in his sixties possessing the energy of a youth when it came to his work in spite of his advancing age. It reminded the agent oddly of James Marcus, in his final moments. All but dancing about his laboratory to his music, as he performed his depraved experiments. Focusing on what someone loved and drove them creatively seemed to give a youth and vitality to age. Holding passion for creating, and for overcoming challenges... being hands on and taking risks, instead of working through others. Maybe that was the reason why Spencer was so decrepit these days, according to the stories Comtesse Henri had told him. He loved nothing and nobody but himself and his own power. His only passion. Nothing of substance, creativity or value. And always he lived to issue orders to others... sparing himself the dirty work. The risk. Anyone who was not constantly challenged, grew weak. That was how it had always been. The reason he'd had his daughter set up an entire paramilitary unit steadily turned private army, just for Umbrella. To have others take the risks and the fall for his increasing fuck ups. Do the heavy lifting. HUNK just one of the many who did. Intellect or not, the company would not be what it was without Lady Spencer growing it. Expanding, and advising her father. Now she was gone... and they would all face the consequences for the old bastard, thanks to their family feud. She would have pulled the rug out from under Birkin the moment she sensed treachery... instead of continuing to fund him as long as Spencer had. She would have kept him under closer watch. Especially after the ease with which he had betrayed Marcus.

All in all... despite the old man's eccentricities, his flippancy... QUARTERMASTER had been among the most vital and talented of the many employees Lady Spencer had recruited over the years. A genius unrivaled in his fields, overseeing other tech geniuses, all of whom had helped make the U.S.S. the power that it was. Given the tech and gadgets, the weaponry he made available to HUNK and his Alpha Teams... he was willing to put up with his banter, at least. Sometimes it even proved amusing.

Sometimes.

HUNK returned his attention up to the television. Barely seeing it though. Feeling the frost that had instantly formed for QUARTERMASTER gradually melting again. Feeling some shame for it... knowing he had no right to get mad at him for the glib remark. Their lives had been wasted... and that was on him. His responsibility. Regardless of Birkin's actions and Spencer's command. But then... what was a little more blood on his hands, at this point? It was all he was good for. Whether he wanted that to be so or not. He couldn't pretend otherwise. The television had finally gone to commercial... and was displaying Umbrella products. The smiling, glamorously sexy blonde actress in the purple and white swimsuit, stockings and heels. Smiling brightly as she advertised Aqua Cure. Among other Umbrella commercials she starred in. He had met her at one of Comtesse Henri's many parties... shaken her hand... received that same dazzling smile and simpering look. Received more than that. Her and the Comtesse had gotten along quite well that evening. He couldn't remember her name at the moment, couldn't be bothered to care enough, but knew she remained high up on the guest lists of the parties, among other celebrities, blue bloods, corrupt politicians, business associates and other people of shallow renown. People he had kept his eyes on. He wondered how much longer the commercials would be allowed to run... before the world found out the truth. Elements of Hollywood were on the Umbrella payroll as well by now, as per the propaganda campaign... with luck the criminals who infested that place would be on the hook as well. Umbrella had a good amount of dirty laundry on the seedy degenerates who lived in the Hollywood Hills. He was on the precipice, he knew, of the looming consequences. A domino effect. The clock ticking against them all. He looked over to Nikolai's room, where he was being operated on. The Monitor had been right. It was all going to change. Never be the same again. He had gotten comfortable at the company, since War had brought him to it. Into the fold of Umbrella Security Service. Thought it would always be the same. Now it was changing around him... and it disturbed him. He had not paid much attention to the world outside Umbrella for a long time... but he would have to start. Raccoon City was the wake up call his apathy had required. It was going to have a big effect on his own world, going forward. Though how much further forward that road would be... he did not know. The pain from the device threading his flesh back together did not take him out of his reverie.

But QUARTERMASTER's pleased voice from the desk eventually did.

"Voila. I have decrypted it and gained access. Damn impressive software, this. If I didn't have experience with its brand already, an unparalleled genius, and some tech of my own, it might have taken me days. I could probably narrow down where it comes from for you, its capacity and hardware. The details."

"Later. For now, access and pull up the recorded camera feeds to the Incinerator Plant... specifically... the cameras to the scrapyard's pathway, and the generator room. Isolate camera footage to within the last hour of its recording."

"Anything specific you're looking for in them?"

"We'll find out. You'll know what it is when you see it. See her."

He heard QUARTERMASTER typing away again... accessing what HUNK had instructed him to. It didn't take him very long. It never did, with him.

"Oh dear me. I believe I have your footage... one moment."

The U.S.S. tech veteran rose from Carla's desk and picked up the laptop, carrying it back down to them at the examination table. Pulling the trolley closer in front of them as well, he pushed aside some of HUNK's battered equipment to clear a spot to set it upon. When he had, his fingers touched the laptop's built in mouse pad, pulling up two camera feeds that overtook the screen. On of the scrapyard passageway and one of the generator room, increasing the volume. He jumped the elapsed time backwards, just as a familiar blue figure appeared descending the ladder down there... and he knew Carlos and himself were just above, off frame, watching her descent. Seeing her again, he felt his pulse quicken, even as he showed nothing on the surface. He drew a low breath, and watched for a long time in silence. Watched her turn and take down the several mutilated, burnt infected workers that awaited her, heard their moans and the roar of Matilda tearing through their brains. He watched her running down toward them, towards the camera.

Pretty soon she limped out of view of that camera... and HUNK reached down before QUARTERMASTER could, switching over to another camera in the passageway. A top down view from somewhere high above the hangar... and they watched her battle and navigate her way through the area... killing the infected Delta Force operators amidst the debris and clutter... taking their weapons, ammunition and equipment, looking around the area. Recovering a file, reading and tucking it away. Finding a rocket launcher inside the locker. Taking it up and an assault rifle, examining the fallen T-103 out there... before activating the doors to the generator room. When they parted, she stepped within, out of sight, and they closed behind her. HUNK closed the window for that camera, and pulled up the full screen of a camera within the generator room... from a perfect vantage point overlooking the entire room. As it had been before him and Carlos had passed through it.

HUNK watched the entire battle in silence, numbly aware Carla had stopped stitching up and examining his wounds, her hand tightening on his good shoulder. All three of them staring at the laptop screen. Together they watched it all. Watched Jill exerting herself to power up the railgun's first battery... heard the creaking in the ventilation shaft... watched and heard the roar of Jill's rifle opening up on it, sparks flying from metal. They watched the mutated blob the Nemesis had become eventually burst from the ventilation shaft and slam into the floor of the generator room. Crawling to and feasting upon the mutated T-103 in the corner... and growing. Into something even more monstrous than it already had been. He caught a glimpse of QUARTERMASTER and Carla's features in the mirror as they watched it mutate... QUARTERMASTER visibly repulsed... Carla equal parts silently horrified and intrigued. They watched Jill flee and battle it at the same time... shooting away at it, powering up the second battery. Battling to push it back... managing to injure it enough with her rifle, grenades and rocket launcher to buy herself enough time to reach and power up the third generator. All the while it retreated back to the mutated Tyrant's corpse to replenish and mutate itself further, to the next stage of forced evolution. The railgun began to charge as Jill forced the Nemesis to flee back to the corpse. She managed to get it directly in line with the railgun... and then it had burst, exploding in a blinding flash of blue streaming light that struck through, melted and obliterated everything between it and the Nemesis.

Tearing through the Nemesis, the wall behind it... and he realized, down into the scrapyard below, breaching the wall to the streets. They heard it all... the thing's inhuman screams, Jill laughing and cursing at it, gasping. Adrenaline clearly surging and overtaking her. The madness of a battle. The roar of the railgun and Jill's weapons. Her screams and curses at the camera, looking directly back at them, mocking Nikolai, Colonel Vladimir, the Sixth Laboratory and Spencer openly. Cursing Umbrella. Vowing to destroy them. The declaration heartening the agent silently. She hit the Nemesis with rockets, grenades and bullets between railgun blasts. Struck it with a second railgun blast before luring it down closer to the rail cannon, and hitting it a third time. The weapon finally overheating. Only then, her primary weapons expended, had Jill tried to breath easier... nearly lowering her guard. The three of them watched the mutilated, weakened blob try to crawl down to her again. Pursue her one last time. Take her by surprise. But she heard it coming. They watched her turn around to face it, despite her pain and exhaustion she nimbly dodged a blast of its acid that ate her dropped, spent rocket launcher on the floor. Tucking and rolling off to the side.

She rose up, turned to it, Matilda in hand... and blasted it full of bursts, one at a time. Pursuing it this time. The tables at last turned. When she was standing over it, looking down on it, he watched the Nemesis Parasite burst from it... heard it speak to her... and her to it. And blow its head apart with a final burst. He watched her empty another magazine into its dying, twitching body to be sure... firing her shotgun into it as well, breaking its claws... spitefully spitting on it. Standing victoriously over what twitching biomass remained. He looked to Matilda... the weapon she had used to finish it... and was touched. A slow smile touching his bruised face. Looking back to the laptop, as she contacted Carlos and got word about him. Watched her backtracking to the tower to come stop him from killing Nikolai. When she moved off camera... HUNK watched the Nemesis' twitching remains for a long moment... and finally turned off the window. Hand lowering back to his side. A stunned silence hung over the three of them, only the sounds outside in the corridor and the ones from Nikolai's room emanating. Though HUNK found himself silently proud... as he had been seeing the thing's remains in person. The aftermath of the battle she had won. Felt a catharsis. Not that he could tell them that. Doctor Radames eventually was the first to break the silence, hand remaining still on his shoulder, squeezing a bit tighter, her voice as astonished as her eyes by what she had beheld.

"Holy shit. Your Valentine girl did that?"

"Far more than that. That's just what some of the camera footage caught."

"There's more footage?"

"Yes. Of myself and Corporal Oliveira as well, around the facility. Likely Nikolai also tapped the footage of numerous Umbrella cameras around the city as well. Combat data. Of the city's downfall."

"Can we... uh... can we see it?"

"Not a movie, Doctor Radames. Not something to put on some popcorn and watch, as Lord Spencer undoubtedly did."

"Oh come off it, HUNK. I didn't mean to sound morbid... just, I'm curious. To see such mutations and B.O.W.'s... how they evolved. You know that. You can hardly just tease us with that grand finale and not show us the rest."

"Perhaps later. That particular footage was all I wanted to watch, just now."

"Why did you let her get away?", The doctor asked half teasingly, half incredulous, reeling from what she had watched. All thought of treating him had evaporated for the time being, despite her concerns. "Between the way you slew that giant worm, and her that blob, your super soldier children could probably replace the entire Tyrant and B.O.W. Programs."

"Yes indeed. Do I hear wedding bells?"

QUARTERMASTER smiled broadly with a hand risen to his ear, and Doctor Radames laughed at his remark, while HUNK's jaw tightened, remaining silent. At the glare, the old tech veteran seemed to take the hint. Throwing up his hands defensively.

"Oh very well. Enough tom foolery for now. What else would you like me to do with the laptop?"

"The laptop stays right here with me at all times. Along with Nikolai. Both will be coming with me to Loire Village. I will not have Vladimir endangering either. I trust you, QUARTERMASTER. I don't trust any of the men in the tech lab working for you. Vladimir could own one or all of them already, for all I know. I'll need your assistance sifting through this laptop. Accessing more footage and files. He gathered a great deal of it from the other Monitors he killed, was carrying out numerous operations. Probably has more camera footage around the city. B.O.W. data as well. And dirty laundry, leverage I might use against Vladimir. Exchanges between the two. Bring up any of the equipment you need here to the medical lab, and get to work. We're going to keep this a small circle."

"I would suggest you were being paranoid... not for the first time, but under these circumstances? You raise a good point. I shall endeavor to. For now, I'll leave you to your checkup. We shall be in touch."

"Yes, we will. Thank you, QUARTERMASTER."

"Did the man just thank me, Carla?", QUARTERMASTER feigned surprise, putting his hand to his ear and rubbing it. Looking between the agent and the doctor with a smirk. "Or am I going senile in my old age?"

"He's been acting funny since he came back, Q. Even called me by my first name, for once. I don't know if it was from being shot in the head, or because of that sexy cop of his. I think I like it though. An improvement. Let's hope it lasts."

"I know which I'm guessing.", The Leviathan's tech savant laughed, joining her own laugh, while HUNK willed himself to ignore their banter. Jaw tightening where he sat. At last QUARTERMASTER turned for the door and went down to it. Opening it and remaining in it a moment to look back at them and nod. "Until later, lady and gentleman. And do take a shower when you get the chance, won't you? You smell like a sewer, Agent HUNK."

"One more thing, old man. Not finished here." HUNK stopped him, remembering in a flash, rising up from the table with a grunt, in spite of the doctor's fussing behind him. Ignoring the burning, stabbing sensation in his leg, he limped over to his armor where it lie and popped open the right pouch... reaching in and withdrawing it, turning back to the doorway where QUARTERMASTER was. Holding up the flash drive device, making his way down towards the old man and holding it out in offering. "Acquired a good deal of data on this thing of yours. From NEST, Bard's covert facility at the hospital, and the Dead Factory. Sift through it down in your lab, see if there's anything useful, then forward it back up here to the doctor's computer."

"Something of mine you managed not to lose or break? It's truly a miracle.", QUARTERMASTER returned with mock astonishment, though did smile faintly as he took the flash drive from HUNK's fingers, inspecting the stick for damage in the light. Evidently not finding any, he uttered a pleased chuckle, tucking it away into a pocket and looking back at HUNK with a nod. "First good news of the week. I'll see what you've managed to nab. HUNK. Carla."

With those parting words, the old man bowed his head, turned and he vanished out into the hall, closing the door behind him with a snap. HUNK watched him leave, before turning back to the table where Carla remained, looking back at him with amusement. Shaking her head slowly as she spoke again wryly.

"What was all that about? The laptop and Nikolai? More manly super secret agent stuff?"

"Something like that. Complicated."

"What about you isn't, dear?"

"Fair enough."

"You got my research data at least... thank you. I was looking forward to poring through Bard's notes. His legacy now, I reckon. Could be something useful in there."

"Not the only thing of his I brought back for you... remember?"

HUNK calmly returned, limping down towards his body armor on the trolley again, and once more finding the correct pouch hiding it. He took out the vial containing the remaining droplets of Bard's vaccination he and Carlos had put together. Making his way back to the table towards her and holding it out in offering. She looked between it and him, lips parting as she realized, remembered, what it was. What she had requested of him.

"You got it?! No... really? Well, of course you did, who am I to question that? You always get the job done."

Doctor Radames beamed, green eyes beneath the glasses dancing excitedly, plucking the vial from his fingers, her fingers brushing deliberately against his. She held it up in the light, smile remaining as she examined the purple droplets within. Then, before he could do anything or react to it, she turned back his way, leaned over the examination table closer to him and pressed a firm, grateful kiss to his stubble lined cheek. As quickly as she did that, the young woman nonchalantly turned and made herself away from the table and deeper into the lab, setting the vial in a medical storage container among her microscopes, beakers and various other lab equipment. Speaking back to him as she did so, glancing his way with that bright smile she reserved for him.

"We'll examine this after I properly examine you. Together. I want to see its effects on T-Virus infected organic samples, and on its own. Compare and contrast. Against other strains as well. See if the antibodies have been altered on a molecular level from the other vaccines. And when that data you found is sent up, maybe I can find out what Bard's process was. It might even be able to improve upon other vaccines, find a breakthrough. There's not much, but I might be able to replicate Bard's particular variant if I can isolate... and I'm rambling technobabble again. Sorry. I get too excited about these things... part of the job though. You can take a seat again, we need to get back to fixing you... the sample can wait."

"Nothing to be sorry for. Important to enjoy what you do. Makes it easier."

"You have a point there. I take it you enjoy what you do too, then? I mean, look how easy you made all that back there look."

Doctor Radames rose from the station she set the vial down at, looking past the equipment down his way again with amusement, awaiting his answer. HUNK merely looked back at her uncomfortably at that innocuous question... knowing she hadn't meant anything bad by it. All the same... he didn't answer her. There had been a time it had made him sick. Then a time where he had enjoyed it. The past while? He didn't feel much of anything. Or forced himself not to. He wasn't sure which. But he didn't know if even that was true anymore. He felt something else now... and he didn't know what the hell it was. Thinking about it made him uncomfortable... and he had enough discomforts to be dealing with, of late. Instead of answering he silently obeyed, turning and retaking his seat again on the examination table, looking ahead to the television set again... the White House press conference. The President was fleeing at the flurry of questions, while his staff remained behind, the Vice President taking over up at the podium stumbling his way evasively through questioning. While she rummaged around back at the station a bit longer, and then the tapping of heels carried her back to the table where she resumed her work behind him as if there had been no interruptions. Working away. Not pressing her question any further, thankfully. Finishing up with the stitches, she applied more green and red herbs and First Aid Spray to each wound before bandaging them up again. Little by little, it wasn't long before she finished. He looked back at himself in the mirror, to all the bandages. One over his left eye, where Nikolai smashing his face into the railing had opened a cut over it. Behind him, in the reflection of the mirror, he saw her opening a medical case, preparing a syringe from a small bottle within, drawing up its contents, and heard her concerned voice again.

"You must be starving by now... thirsty."

"I am."

"I'll send for something good and filling, soon. Have Alice bring it in. Honestly, you'd think she never saw a muscle bound hunk in her life, the way she was staring. And besides... we all know how much you love your adoring fans."

"If you say so."

"I say that you should be upstairs tonight in the mess hall dining at the Captain's table. Being honored and appreciated like you deserve. But in this state, as your doctor, I would have to forbid it if the Captain bothers asking. Safer off being appreciated right here anyways."

"Dinner at the Captain's table or not, SENTINEL is going to march down and haul me out of here. Drag me up to see the Captain and/or the Admiral. Just a matter of when."

"He's going to need an army to do that, then. Not about to discharge a patient. And certainly not my favorite of them."

"Just as well. Had enough of crowds for one day. Rather be here. With you."

"Flattery won't get you out of these tests any quicker.", She assured him a bit teasingly, from the reflection of the mirror, though looked quite pleased. Raising the needle and examining it carefully, its contents a familiar purple fluid that took his attention. "But don't let that stop you."

"What is that?"

"T-Virus vaccination, of course. Fresh antibodies. Better than whatever Bard was working on, I'm sure. Straight from the Paris Facility. Just what a man who spent eleven days in Raccoon City needs."

"Didn't know I was infected."

"You likely aren't, I examined a sample of your blood earlier. But as your doctor I'm not taking any chances here. Symptoms can take awhile too. There are countless times you were exposed to the virus in Raccoon City. And who's to say Nikolai didn't coat his blade with it before he stabbed you? Wouldn't put a dirty move like that past him, if half of what you told me about him is true."

"Valid point."

"Besides, your Countess will have my head mounted in her office if you are infected. She had it delivered here via cargo plane from her people as soon as she heard you came back into radio contact with NIGHTHAWK. Found out you were alive. Told me to give you this when you got back to the ship. Real protective, that one. Sir Maxwell insisted as well when I double checked with him. And I rather like my head exactly where it is."

"Of course. Go ahead, then. Always hated needles, though. I'm no guinea pig... Lady Spencer saw to that. At least I think she did..."

"You'll live, you big baby. And you just might thank me for it. Now, just breath and be brave for me."

Doctor Radames spoke a bit absently, not really hearing what had slipped from his mouth in his exhaustion, focusing on her work... she pressed the needle to the flesh and directly into the muscle of his arm. So sharp he barely felt it. But looking at their reflections in the mirror, he watched the purple substance receding from the syringe's barrel and flowing within him. As it had into Jill's system. The sight of it more troubling than the needle itself. He didn't like it... not in the least. The concoctions of usually mad scientists in his body. But such precautions were understandable. And he understood and appreciated Comtesse Henri's intent. It didn't mean he had to be comfortable with Umbrella products being pumped into him. He was a useful, somewhat valuable investment, given the results he had gotten for the company over the years. Somehow he doubted many of the other rank and file agents would merit an expensive vaccine... and the care that he received. It made him uncomfortable, that thought. At last she withdrew the needle from his shoulder, the syringe emptied, patting it lightly and putting a small band aid on it in a flash, and pressing a teasing kiss against it before drawing back again.

"There, all done. See? Nothing to it. All better. On to the next step of our checklist. The best part. Time to strip you down the rest of the way."

"Joy."

"Oh suck it up, big guy. You have nothing that I haven't seen before.

"Obviously. Not exactly your first inspection."

She merely laughed at his dry voice and eye roll, and moved around in front of him again... beginning to unlace his combat boots for him. Once they were done, knowing the next step, HUNK slid off his boots and dark socks within them, and she took them, setting them down on the trolley. Then she took his hand, helping him up to his feet from the examination table. Together they shrugged him out of the rest of his undersuit, sliding them down and off his muscled, bruised up legs like a pair of pants. Before long he stood clad only the black pair of boxers he wore beneath. She took the time to look him over, inspect him more thoroughly than a doctor likely should... biting her lower lip absently as her fingers traced some of the fresh bruising and old scars... but he remained where he was, tolerating it. Accustomed to it. Then she rolled up the weathered undersuit steadily and set it down on the trolley while he willed himself to remain standing on long, aching legs. When she was done, she moved back to him, wrapping her arm around him, helping keep him upright, and his arm wrapped around her in turn. Turning they started together down towards the MRI machine next... while she looked over to his eyes with fresh concern, expression thoughtful. Reaching the table of the machine, she gently helped him sit down upon it, which he did with a low breath... before examining him again. Hands exploring his muscled form, tracing the bruises, pressing, seeing where was most tender. Nodding again when she was satisfied, and meeting his eyes once more.

"Alright. Now, lay back on the MRI table and stay still, HUNK. You know the drill."

"Do I ever. Gonna get that promised lollipop anytime soon?"

"Patience, good looking. Sweet things come to those who wait. Now lay your fine self down. Doctor's orders."

On that note and smile of hers, with a low grunt, ignoring the pain, he forced himself to lay back on the table. Swinging his legs up and righting himself. Carla remained close by for a moment... hand lowering and touching his cheek gently, tenderly... before retracting. And her blue bloused, white coated form stepping out of his view. He heard her tap the button, initiating the start up sequence. The table automatically slid backwards... drawing most of his body into the medical device. The laboratory vanishing... and replaced by an illuminated white interior of a confined space. His low breaths louder, muffled, within it. He might have been one of few who was not put off by the experience... the confined area. Maybe because it reminded him of his mask. In here... he was alone, with his thoughts. Safe. He heard her muffled voice speaking clearly enough from outside the MRI.

"Don't get too comfortable in there, HUNK. These are just the first tests. Then I need to take some more samples to run. We have a good deal left to do."

"Maybe I should have fought Vladimir after all. It's going to be a long four days."

"A beautiful young doctor and fawning nurses doting on you. A nice, hot shower. Plenty of bed rest... assuming you don't have any serious head trauma. Good food. A cruise to the romantic city of lights where your glamorous Countess awaits, while aboard a top of the line ship. I'm sure there are many ways for such a lucky man to pass the time. What the hell are you complaining about?"

HUNK released a low, sharp laugh at her amused words, echoing within the machine, but did not form a reply. Remaining still... waiting for the process to begin. How many times with how many doctors had he been scanned inside this machine? Too many. But like everything else... he was used to it, by now. Then, the flashes started... and slowly, he closed his eyes. Attempting to mediate, as he had failed to before when pondering Lady Spencer. This time... he didn't see Paris awaiting him... Loire Village, the Comtesse or the G-Virus. He didn't see the horrors of NEST, Birkin, Nikolai, the Nemesis, the worm or the Colonel. This time he saw her... a reassuring pair of blue eyes, instead of an alluring green... as they stood together beneath the rising sun. Her clear, calm, caring voice. The way she looked at him. Her genuine smile... that made her many bruises and swellings seem to vanish. The way she spoke to him. He saw her... waiting for him. Waiting for him to keep his last promise. And for the remainder of the trip... so would he. Someone who had been good to him, without any machinations planned for him. Without any low motives. He lay there as the machine worked away, losing himself in the memory of the Arklay Mountain and the courtyard embrace with her, somewhere pleasant even when they had been surrounded by hell. Amid rotting corpses and shell casings of battle... with death rattling, moaning and screaming at the gates. With death looming ahead in an enveloping mushroom cloud, watching it dissipate together, and the crater that had been Raccoon City.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd peace like that... life... at odds with the rest of the decaying world. Now that he thought about it... maybe he never had, until her. Maybe that was why the alien feeling filled him with as much dread... as it did hope.

Desire as well... to feel it again. In another time and place, with her. Some day.

Somehow.

---

October 2nd, 1998, 10:45AM

Captain's Cabin, The Bridge, The Leviathan, Atlantic Ocean

"Reporting as ordered with Special Agent HUNK, sir! That doctor of his gave us a ton of shit, but we managed to pry him from her grasp."

"That'll be all, SENTINEL. Go stand outside awhile."

"Aye aye, Captain!"

Captain Tom Stewart Strickland's armored and armed ship security personnel stood at attention and saluted their terse superior officer, before casting speculative, weary looks at HUNK. SENTINEL deliberately bumped against his shoulder, roughened, grizzled features and dark eyes casting him a hard look. He offered the head of ship security no more a return at his stare than he did his half a dozen subordinates, as they filed for the door, slipping past him, back through the metal door and out on to the bridge again. SENTINEL closed it behind them with one final grimace, and a snap that echoed through the cabin. HUNK stared straight ahead the entire time... watching the uniformed, middle aged Captain sitting behind his familiar cluttered desk. The Captain paid his guest no heed, busily working away at his reports... bespectacled eyes looking down at them. Taking the occasional puff off his cigar. It was hot in the Captain's quarters... such that HUNK felt a bead of sweat running down his back beneath the armored bodysuit... and saw it glistening on the Captain's entirely bald head. Nothing he couldn't handle, like the pain and soreness. The exhaustion at least had finally abated, from a good night's rest. A night's rest, anyways. There was silence as he stood there, save the scratching of the Captain's pen, and the muffled breaths through HUNK's mask.

Strickland kept him standing there at attention for quite some time as he did his reports. It was just as well. HUNK knew the drill. He hadn't been particularly surprised being woken early by the automatic assault rifle bearing crewmen all but storming the medical wing. Led by SENTINEL, a shaven headed, powerfully built veteran from Umbrella's West Africa Facility, recruited locally out there like a number of the personnel there. He'd already had a good deal of military experience in the unstable region before he had joined, rock solid and dependable, tough. It was no mystery why SHIPMASTER had selected him to serve aboard the Leviathan in his current capacity. They had served together before... and SENTINEL seemed to carry a mixed grudge and respect towards HUNK for his role in cleaning up Umbrella Plant 57. What had gone down there. He wasn't sure which was stronger... but HUNK knew SENTINEL could be counted on. Had seen him in action before. About the only thing they seemed to share though beyond reliability and professionalism was their mutual contempt for Colonel Vladimir... especially after his clean up job of the infected village. Unleashing his Elites on it. He was only surprised it had taken the Captain this long to send him. Must have wanted to be sure he was fit enough to be brought up here. Doctor Radames had argued with the security team leader long and hard, fiercely... argued he shouldn't be up and about so soon. She might have even won, had he not told her to stand down. Complied with the security team. They had their orders, and the ship's Captain was the ultimate authority to be respected on his ship. The security team had given him enough time to get fully dressed in his battered, damaged uniform and armor, with Carla's help. He had also taken Matilda with him in his holster, along with his combat knife... ever living up to Bella's lesson... mandate... about always being armed. No matter what and who he was meeting with... and none of the security officers had questioned it. Knew better than to try to relieve him of his weapons. As did their superior, having been selected by Lady Spencer to captain the ship in the first place, as well as the sidearm he himself always carried.

They both knew their coming to get him was a formality. That it would turn out alright, in the end. Finally, with reassuring nod and some words to the concerned Carla, he had limped out into the corridor with the security team. Escorted slowly and carefully all the way up to the bridge. Keeping the pain at bay as best he could, working not to let it show on the surface of his movements.

Along the way various ship's crewmen and U.S.S. Agents alike stared, stepped aside or stood at attention and saluted as he passed. Assorted U.B.C.S. mercenaries, Monitors and Elites looked particularly smugly pleased at the sight of his injured form being marched up to meet with the Captain. Laughing mockingly among themselves. When he had reached the bridge he had taken a moment to look around U.S.S. Command's stations, looking to the familiar employees manning the stations and exchanging a respectful nod with some. Chloe over on flight control waved at him as well with a smile, and he had merely nodded back at her as well. And then there was the rest of the crew of the bridge, stealing looks at him as he passed them, the chatter dying down, the atmosphere turning tense. Being moved along past all the terminals, stations and equipment. He spotted no sign or sight of Vladimir or the accompanying executive along the way... whether by accident or design. He had half expected the Colonel to be up on the bridge again, staring at him gloatingly, trying to rub it in his face. Maybe the bastard was busy sifting through U.M.F.-013 in the cargo hold by now. Or fawning over his 'children' frozen on the cryogenic deck. One was as likely as the other. He had gotten a look out the window at the end of the command bridge, where SHIPMASTER and Sir Maxwell had stood the other day, out to the sea they were passing through... no land within sight for miles. He smelled the familiar, salty air, and even in his pain felt at peace with it. It was good to be back under way... to feel the ship moving... his world alive again... though he knew he had merely stepped off one battlefield, only to return to another. After that, it had been on to the Captain's cabin.

It had been awhile since the last time he'd been up here... but it was far from the first. He remembered the first time he had visited it with Lady Spencer in '86, her and the Captain sitting across from one another while he remained standing at attention behind her, watching over her. Disciplined, even then, as a naive, stupid boy who had yet to officially join the U.S.S. A boy silently awed by the Leviathan when he had first set eyes on it, and impressed by its badass Captain. Impressed especially when he had seen the training deck, where the agents ran their drills... and still did, outside Rockfort Island to keep their skills honed and sharp. There had been how he and Lady Spencer had behaved together behind closed doors, or dressing down somewhere out in public on a date... and there was how they presented themselves together among the U.S.S. Among fellow Umbrella employees. Even then, it hadn't done much. It had been an open secret... simply not one many were stupid enough to speak of in either of their presence. Now and again the Captain had cast him a strange look when Lady Spencer was preoccupied examining ship and U.S.S. intelligence reports. A hard stare while puffing on his cigar that had intimidated HUNK at the time... but something else behind it, unless he was mistaken. A look that reminded him of the way the limousine driver had stared at him, after delivering him to the masquerade ball at the Spencer Mansion. Something that might have been pity. Or maybe he had imagined it... what did he know about reading other people? Even now, they confused him more than anything. As he had back then during that first visit to the completed Leviathan, HUNK remained still as a statue. Could do this as long as required. HUNK understood the Captain's intent, and respected it. At some point, the Captain's voice spoke to him from the desk. Tone low, calm and collected, giving nothing away.

Not then, at least.

"John, you just did an incredibly brave thing back in Raccoon City. Never seen anything quite like it in all my years. Even from DEN MOTHER or LONE WOLF at their best."

HUNK looked back to the Captain... who still hadn't looked up at him. Still peering intently at his reports, pen scratching away. Knowing what was surely to come, HUNK went through with it.

"Thank you, sir."

"You also nearly instigated a live firefight on the flight deck of my ship!"

SHIPMASTER burst out all at once, throwing down his pen, rising from behind his desk and storming around it, removing his glasses. He moved to where HUNK stood at attention, looking up at him, glaring daggers. At his side was a holster of his own containing an impressive Colt Anaconda revolver... of the same make Burton had carried, no less. A hand cannon capable of blowing someone's head off, fitting of the men in question. The Captain was no more than five and a half feet tall, but he was built like a brick shithouse even at his age, and may as well have been the Colonel's height the way his rough, mean face and piercing blue eyes were glaring daggers at the agent. HUNK would sooner have fought the Colonel again the other day, at his worst condition. The Captain was a 'Nam veteran, just like NIGHTHAWK. Not a sort to be crossed lightly. If one wished to remain healthy. He went on thundering, while HUNK stood there not moving an inch, listening to every word. Waiting for his cue to speak.

"My people would have been caught right in the middle of your interservice crossfire! Two priority missions straight from Spencer you put in jeopardy, all over a pissing contest that you couldn't wait to have on Rockfort Island! Son, your ego is writing checks your body can't cash! What the hell do you have to say for yourself, agent? Why did you do it?"

"Sir. Colonel Vladimir initiated the confrontation. He was attempting to supersede my authority. Threatening me and the completion of Operation: NESTWRECKER. Had been since I came back into contact with U.S.S. Command... when he attempted to scrub my mission in the field. Overrode my extraction. Dispatched several Tyrants in an attempt to seize the G-Virus for himself. For glory and credit with Lord Spencer."

"Authority? He's a Colonel, executive, commander of the entire U.B.C.S and the Monitors, and Spencer's right hand man! Service record aside, you're a faceless, nameless, glorified delivery boy compared to him in position! A part time agent, part time bodyguard to a blue blooded royal pain in the ass! Just because Director Henri thinks you're hot shit who should be commanding Umbrella Security Service, that don't make it so!"

HUNK's eyes within the broken and intact lenses looked back down at the unperturbed officer. The Captain had never once been the least bit intimidated by HUNK... and never minced words. Two of the many qualities he respected the man for. Wishing more on the ship were like him. He also understood the nature of the Captain's intent poking and prodding him the way he was. The position he was in. And the concern for lives of his crew that HUNK and the Colonel had endangered the other morning. HUNK would be just as pissed off, in such a position. Nevertheless he wasn't about to stand there and take it like one of the man's ensigns. The Captain was a man who respected those who stood their ground. Fought back. As any true soldier did. He might not have been a real soldier... but he wasn't a pushover either.

"Sir. Regardless of what the Director thinks of me, this is officially my operation, until the delivery of the Golgotha sample is completed. Lord Spencer himself personally authorized the operation. Granted me the authority to complete it in any way I saw fit."

"You don't think I heard your snot nosed frog princess screeching that over the phone a thousand times already?! Or from Messervy for that matter? My phone has been off the hook since the shit hit the fan down in NEST and covered Raccoon City! This isn't Loire Village! This might be your operation, but it sure as shit is my boat! You'd all do well to remember that!"

"Can't speak for the others, but I never forgot, sir.", HUNK assured him calmly, considering the agitated Captain for a moment, and something else he had been considering earlier. Hoping that fortune would favor the bold, this time. Trying his hand. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Go ahead, hotshot! I'm all ears!"

"With all due respect, sir, you're beginning to bore the hell out of me."

"What the hell did you just say?"

"You heard me, Captain. Were you interrogating Colonel Vladimir to this degree over dinner last evening? Reading him the riot act at the Captain's table?"

Captain Strickland froze at that... not taking his eyes off the agent. He was silent for quite some time, raising the cigar to his lips and drawing in a deep breath, the tip burning brightly. He blew the smoke against HUNK's mask, getting in close, piercing, unblinking eyes trying to stare him down even from his height disadvantage. Gruff voice speaking again coldly.

"Are you being a wiseacre?"

"No sir. Merely curious."

"That's bullshit, Agent HUNK!"

SHIPMASTER barked at him roughly... staring back at him hard... neither man blinking as the seconds ticked away. Before very gradually, the Captain relented at last. Stepping back a bit... considering the agent, lowering his cigar back down to his side. When he spoke it was with a calmer voice, low and even. Controlled. And contemplative. The agitated mask of what was expected of him as Captain slipping deliberately and speaking truth.

"Though very fair bullshit. I am... expected to entertain Umbrella executives and others of high positions on this ship. A part of the job I despise. Just as much as when you are dragged to social occasions, with your Lady back in the day, and now with this Countess of yours. Don't think I didn't notice or haven't heard how much they bother you. I remember when you were a fresh faced and bright eyed rookie, standing right there behind your Lady like an adopted, stray dog. More at home here on this ship than at any of the Spencer's properties, I'm sure. Now look at you. A one man goddamn army. Our best agent. I was not made for all that blue blooded shit any more than you are, son. Men like us are natural born killers... not of that decadent upper class world... even when it's thrust upon us... but we are of the world of discipline. Duty. Self sacrifice. A chain of command. Sometimes that means doing stupid social and political shit, jumping through tedious hoops. Doesn't mean we have to like it... but it does mean we must do our duty. No matter the circumstances. Our likes and dislikes do not matter, any more than what we want."

When he spoke of HUNK's past... of Lady Spencer, it had his entire focus... but didn't irritate or anger him the way others bringing it up did. There was something solemn there, and no hostile intent with it, as it was with Nikolai and the Colonel. Sympathy from the older man. Captain Strickland moved away from his desk and from HUNK, walking down towards a window facing out to the sea. Past a number of model ships and ships in bottles he kept on tables, along with filled book shelves. Looking out to the Atlantic carefully, puffing away on his cigar. HUNK's eyes within the mask tracked him, while the rest of himself remained perfectly still. After a time, SHIPMASTER drew a low breath and turned away again from the window, looking back down to him in front of the desk with a contemplative expression. Speaking again slowly and carefully.

"We are Umbrella Security Service, Agent HUNK. The best of the best. He's U.B.C.S. Their Commander or not, model for the Tyrant series or not, he is a common opportunistic mercenary. Regardless of his high standing within the company. Regardless of Spencer. A greedy, conniving son of a bitch. Once a commie, always a commie. I hold you to much higher standards of conduct than him. Military record or not, he's more an NKVD bureaucrat since he joined up. Not much more impressive than that blue blooded slacker Ashford, an armchair general if ever there was one. Rewarded with undeserved authority through nepotism. You were trained by War herself, the heiress of Umbrella, and the finest military instructors she made available to you... him by those commie bastards back east. Regardless of what happened down there in that city, I expect you at the top of your game and on your best behavior at all times aboard my flagship. To set an example, as you have before. You're supposed to be doing it more professionally than the other guy. Not getting involved in near firefights among allies, threatening the lives of your fellow employees. This isn't normal behavior from you. The last thing I need is you of all agents going loose cannon on us. Especially considering former Agent Rodriquez's defection."

"I understand, sir."

"On account of your success, sterling record, and the catastrophic nature of the operation, I am willing to let this infraction slide just once. We are all overworked. You especially. Been to hell and back. And there will be some more of it soon enough, after Raccoon City."

Captain Strickland stopped and turned entirely, then, moving back down towards the front of the desk. Standing directly in front of the agent again. His contemplative expression was gone in an instant, replaced by the hardass SHIPMASTER that HUNK knew best.

"Regardless, you're on notice, agent. That little wild west show of yours yesterday is not something I'm prepared to tolerate aboard my ship. You screw up again just this much... if you two have another confrontation like that one, I'm throwing both your asses overboard together. Or throwing you both in the cargo hold of the next plane headed out to DEN. Maybe some time in the Antarctic together would cool you both off. I'll deliver the G-Virus to Loire Village and U.M.F.-013 to the Caucasus Facility on my own."

"Won't be necessary, sir. Won't happen again."

"That's what I thought. After you talk to Messervy next, you will be confined to the medical bay until we reach our destination, and are not to have any further contact with Colonel Vladimir for the duration of the voyage. You will be kept under lock and key and guard the entire time. Is that clear?"

"Crystal, sir."

HUNK understood what had passed between them... from the look in the Captain's eye, they both did. He was doing HUNK a favor confining him to the medical bay and supplying guards... separating him and Colonel Vladimir. Ensuring another fight didn't break out, and the G-Virus sample remained where it was. On HUNK. Keeping the peace. He also knew that was exactly where HUNK wanted to be... providing him an excuse not to have to attend any celebrations, meetings or social matters aboard the ship, and avoid contact with the others. The Captain knew him well. Better than most, by now. He felt a gratitude to the older man stirring... faint smile forming unseen within the mask. At last, seemingly satisfied with the answer, Captain Strickland turned on his boot and strode back around the desk, taking his seat again in the comfortable chair behind it. Slipping his glasses back on and looking up at him again from over the pair.

"That is all. Leave, before Doctor Radames storms in here with a medical team, puts my ass in a sling and takes off with you anyways. Real territorial, that one. Watch yourself around her."

"Yes sir. On my way out."

HUNK turned on his combat boot and strode back away from Strickland's desk. Marching down the length of the cabin and to the metal door he had been ushered through. He was about to open the door and step back out on to the bridge, rejoin the waiting security team, when his voice called down to him.

"Johnny. There was one other thing, actually."

The U.S.S. Agent paused where he was at the door, hand on the handle. Looking back to the Captain behind his desk. The older man bore a thoughtful, serious expression, leaning forward in his desk a bit. The hardass gone again for the moment... a trace of genuine respect there in his features. Unless he was mistaken. The barest trace of a smile.

"Yes sir?"

"Damn fine fucking job with your operation, son. On all accounts. That section eight asshole Birkin nearly blew it, not you or any of your men. Never liked the look of him, or his buddy Wesker. Scientists... bunch of nutjobs, causing all our problems. At least those two aren't our problem anymore. And ignore the petty murmurs about you and that Valentine girl. What happens in the field is none of their goddamn business. Pencil pushers, scientists and politicians, the bunch of them. They would all have shit themselves to go through even an ounce of what you did on the ground. Especially Colonel Vladimir. Holding the Quarantine Zone with Trautmann's military support was tough enough on us. Can't imagine what it was being in the middle of that pit of hell. And what you did to that giant worm... Jesus Harold Christ. If this were an official military, I'd get you a promotion and the President to pin a congressional medal of honor on you. As it stands... all I can offer is that you can come up here and tell me all about Raccoon City some other time, if you wish. Drinks are on me."

"Yes sir.", HUNK returned at last after a long pause of consideration, nodding to him gratefully. Meaning it. Fully intending to take him up on the offer. He stood at attention and rose a hand to his dented, scratched up helmet, offering a salute. "Thank you, sir."

"Dismissed, agent."

On that final note, with a returned salute of his own, SHIPMASTER looked back down and stoically resumed his reports, the furious stroking of his pen returning, along with puffing the rings of cigar smoke. HUNK felt a slight pleased look touch his bruised face under the mask, where the praise from the others hadn't mattered. Somehow, it still did with the Captain. Was different with him. Lowering his hand, turning again, he opened the door and stepped back outside, closing it behind him. He felt a trace of amusement. He had known something was missing from his return to the ship the other day. Something he actually preferred to the onlooking crowds, cheers and applause that had been his return. That made him feel like an agent again. A superior no more fond of the game than he was, and understood war... the way the Board Of Directors, virologists and other scientists never could. Took for granted. A superior who didn't treat him as a poster boy, or a tool. If only they all treated him the same way. Stopped idolizing his accomplishments. Started respecting them. Respecting security team turned and surrounded him again the moment he stepped outside... with SENTINEL marching down to stand in front of him, looking back into his mask, as unperturbed by HUNK as the Captain. The SSO's deep, accented dialect washing over the U.S.S. Agent, the irritation and bitterness evident. As it usually was. The rest of the security guards watching the exchange silently, the atmosphere around them suddenly growing rather tense.

"This way, golden boy. The sooner you get the rest of your raps on the knuckles and confinement the better. I have no wish to escort you around the ship like a glorified personal bodyguard for a company celebrity. That is more your line of work these day, for your Countess. I have other far more important matters to attend to."

"That right? Such as?"

"Such as keeping an eye on the Colonel and his henchmen skulking around our ship. Stirring up trouble. And that red eyed creep in the scuba suit, lurking down on the Cryogenic Deck. Hovering over his refrigerated freaks. It has been non stop busy around this ship since you made that mess at NEST. The outbreak. Just because you were out on a mission doesn't mean the rest of the world stopped in the meantime."

"Of course. Think I should have killed him? The Colonel, I mean. The UT Commander is no threat to this vessel. Would have made your job a bit easier. Know how much you like your tasks nice and simple, these days."

"I think that you deliberately endangered the lives of the crew, both of you with your petty feuding. Good as it would be to see him torn apart by bullets, dumped into the sea, it was not only the two of you down there. You had your confrontation amidst a crowd. Their lives and my duty to them matter to me more than revenge. Yours does not. You may wish to remember that, golden boy. You will get no special treatment from me."

"That makes two of us. More sour than usual, aren't you? Commissar Vladimir urinate in your cereal this morning, SENTINEL?"

"I don't care what you fought against and survived in that city. You returned and immediately posed a threat to this crew. Success and living in that chateau with your high and mighty Countess has been weakening you. Making you lose sight of your duty as an agent. Your comrades. Arrogance consumes you. You did not only endanger the crew, you got the rest of your own team killed out there, as you always seem to. If only some of that uncanny survival skill of yours were reflected in your piss poor leadership. Alpha Team would have seen far fewer iterations over these years. How long do you imagine the next one is going to survive for?"

"You are not the Captain. In no position to lecture me on morality or what I do in my leisure time. Or the dereliction of duty. Starting to forget where you come from. Thought that taste of action at Raccoon City's Quarantine Zone might remind you of the old days. Of Zaire. Suppose not. Been in this cushy posting too long. Need to get back out in the field permanently. Get some blood and dirt under your nails again. I am not the only one certain people on this ship whisper about. Mock behind his back. Been up in this ivory tower awhile, haven't you? By all means, SENTINEL. Let's get on with it. Still have an Admiral to argue with. Neither of us really wishes to remain up here... now do we?"

HUNK's low, muffled tone returned to him slowly and coolly, not breaking the eye contact from the fellow agent he had come to respect. Even if he now annoyed him as well. Recalling some of their operations together, in better times. What they had fought against and survived together. Yes, SHIPMASTER had chosen his new head of ship security exceedingly well... but HUNK had seen the effects serving here as long as he had were having on SENTINEL. How capable a field agent he had been... now reduced to ship security. While it might have officially been an impressive rank and posting within U.S.S... the flagship... it was an easy posting, that saw little in the way of combat. To say nothing of field work. They both knew that. And he knew how much it bothered SENTINEL. How unhappy the man had become with it. So HUNK picked at that scab, the way SENTINEL had picked at Alpha Team. The West African veteran's dark face glowered hard back at him for a time... visibly looking as though he were searching for the right cutting insults to retort with... but he swallowed them and his pride for the moment, remembering his duty. Then turning abruptly and issuing the orders to his perturbed men, who quickly righted themselves as though they hadn't been watching the exchange raptly. Before long they were all escorting him back over the bridge once more, underway again. Down towards his next stop before he could return to Doctor Radames. Limping past the stations of the bridge again, those working among them. Willing himself to ignore the worsening aches and burning, stabbing sensations in his gut and knee. It wasn't long before HUNK saw the other familiar office and the unfamiliar blonde, A white naval uniformed secretary girl sitting at the desk outside it. A new girl... polished, well groomed and attractive. Makeup. Not a hair out of place. Like the Comtesse. But then, they always were. Younger than the previous one too. Couldn't have been older than twenty... if that. She looked up from the report she was typing out at the sound of their combat boots, and as they came to a stop before her desk. She looked among the security team in front of HUNK, soft English accent speaking up a bit nervously at the group of assault rifle bearing and armored U.S.S. Agents. Addressing SENTINEL primarily, who came to stand directly in front of her desk.

"Uh... hello there... can I help you gentlemen?"

"Special Agent HUNK is here to see Admiral Maxwell. He has an appointment to keep."

"Agent HUNK?"

The young woman inquired of the lead guard with a risen brow... before the security guards in front of him stepped aside, revealing him to her. He looked back at her silently from within the gas mask, watching her eyes predictably widen, and lips part. A startled look crossing her features... all of it familiar and tiresome by now... and visibly tiresome to SENTINEL as well... though to her credit, she adapted quicker to the surprise than he had expected. Looking down to her notepad and reading some of the text there, before glancing up at them again. A nervous smile flashing his way, looking among all their serious faces, to the looming SENTINEL and back to HUNK. Hands unconsciously smoothing out her skirt.

"Um... yes... he was expected. A pleasure to finally meet you... Agent HUNK. I've heard so much about you. My name is Jane... Jane Pennyworth... I am Sir Maxwell's new executive assistant."

"I noticed. Pleasure, Miss Pennyworth. Admiral has a high turnover rate for younger, more attractive secretaries. Wouldn't get too comfortable in that seat."

"Well I... um. One moment, please... he's in a meeting. I'll uh... inform him you are here..."

The suddenly flustered, blushing secretary girl stared at him a moment longer while the ship guards around HUNK visibly repressed smirks and audibly stifled laughs, with effort. And SENTINEL's sharp, humorless glare their way, of course. Miss Pennyworth quickly turned her attention back to her duties, to the intercom on her desk, activating the device. Taking the time to speak with Sir Maxwell on the other end, informing her superior of his presence, her eyes returning to his gas mask again. HUNK didn't pay much attention to the details of the exchange, simply waiting to be hauled into the office and get it over with already. Already he wished to return to the relative quiet of the medical deck... to the company of Doctor Radames. The isolation. It all grew quickly tiresome, going through the motions. It wasn't long before they did exactly that, the secretary girl turning off the intercom and giving them the green light to go inside. HUNK felt her eyes continuing to linger on him, and he glanced back at her, not saying a word. He wondered what stories she had heard about him. But didn't wonder very much. He was used to this... from the new employees especially. Young women particularly. The way she looked at him... with fear and intrigue, curiosity. The foolish attraction to dangerous men. Some things never changed. He was used to it... but had never been comfortable with it. The security team led him past her and into the well furnished office, moving off to the side of the door once they were within. An office that owed more to its owner's fancy, upper class lifestyle than the Captain's militaristic one. Sir Maxwell was just finishing up his previous meeting when they entered, some uniformed men and women standing or sitting around his desk. HUNK looked past the security guards and to the ever immaculately groomed and dressed man with dark yet graying, thinning hair. Dark, thick brows narrowed intently. Face as lined by stress as much as age. Wearing not the naval uniforms of most of the others, but a grey business suit and pants with a white shirt and black tie. Sir Maxwell Matthew Messervy, former Secret Intelligence Service... the head of U.S.S. Command himself and Admiral of Umbrella's fleet. Lady Spencer's close friend and personally appointed successor... going over some documents in his own office and speaking with some subordinates. Though SENTINEL drew in his attention first, speaking to the Admiral.

"Admiral? Special Agent HUNK is here to see you. As you requested."

"Of course, SENTINEL. Thank you. Just another moment. Nearly finished here."

"Yes, Admiral."

The Admiral looked up to the doorway as SENTINEL, HUNK and the team entered the office, casting the agents a speculative gaze, releasing a cloud of smoke from his lit pipe, before nodding HUNK's way as the security team drew him off to the side. A gesture that went returned. The other employees meeting with him looked over as well, to find HUNK standing there with the security team, awaiting his turn, their eyes widening with visible alarm at the state of his appearance. Before Sir Maxwell drew their attention again, finishing up the meeting gradually.

Likely the man had wanted to meet with him first, but the Captain got first dibs on his own ship. Not even an Admiral outranked a Captain on the Captain's own vessel. Sir Maxwell had never liked that traditional naval regulation Lady Spencer had included, for obvious reasons, often butting heads with SHIPMASTER. HUNK could practically hear his cool, irritated accent again directed at himself as he had countless times before through his radio. What he thought of the complication of the mission, he wasn't certain, but it wasn't concluded yet... he would be among those to get the report for Operation: NESTWRECKER first, though. It would have to suffice. All the same, he expected a dressing down for his failure to bring in Birkin alive... and the near ruination of the mission. But HUNK did not care. Perhaps Sir Maxwell would do them both a favor and fire him already. Either way, he would win. Likely not though... given how close he had been and likely still was to Lady Spencer. Maybe she had asked him to look out for HUNK, keep an eye on him... or he was doing so on his own accord. And as deep as he was in Umbrella's clandestine world, the only being 'fired' from U.S.S. would be a deadly euphemism. A finality. The way he had fired Marcus. All the same... it was fun to imagine them letting him go. Able to go back to the States. Back to her... where he should have been. At last the meeting ended, and the personnel stood up and filed quickly to the door past the armed security team and HUNK... moving quickly, keeping as much space as possible. Still, he felt all their eyes on him... and when he looked back at them they stared determinedly ahead of themselves again as if he'd not caught them watching. Within moments, they all were gone, out of the office and back to the bridge, returning to their duties and posts. Leaving the office door ajar, as the Admiral puffed away at his pipe again, going over a sheet of paper in front of himself. When they were gone, the guards led him up in front of the Admiral's desk, coming to a stop again. As the Captain had, he kept HUNK standing there and waiting for awhile. Until at last he looked up again, as if noticing them for the first time, gaze falling upon the guards. To SENTINEL stranding at the forefront of them. Smooth, sophisticated English accent washing over them.

"Guards? You can wait outside with Miss Pennyworth. This is a private matter between myself and Special Agent HUNK. Confidential mission details."

"Understood, sir. Call us in if you need anything."

"That is greatly appreciated, SENTINEL. Though shouldn't prove necessary."

"Aye aye, Admiral."

SENTINEL's own accented voice returned stoically, him and the rest of the ship's security saluted, standing at attention as they had for the Captain, before turning, looking at HUNK once more, and striding past him for the door. SENTINEL deliberately bumping against HUNK's shoulder again... a faint smirk touching his lips this time beneath the gas mask at the passive aggressive, petty gesture of his fellow agent. Still stewing over the earlier exchange, clearly. They filed out as the others had, and this time closing the door behind them. Sir Maxwell's dark brown eyes continued reading the report through his spectacles, puffing away at his pipe... continuing to leave HUNK standing as he was. Though not deliberately, as the Captain was fond of doing. Genuinely engrossed in the report he was reading. At last, setting down the report, he looked back up at the agent again, speaking up once more.

"Agent HUNK. My apologies you were dragged out of bed for a reprimand from the Captain. I advised him against it... but you know what little use that is when his mind is made up about something."

"Naturally. Appreciated, Admiral."

"Still, it is a reprieve from the past couple weeks. Somewhat back to a normal state of affairs. Thank goodness. Things have been rather hectic around here as it is."

"I can imagine so."

"Incidentally, did you happen to speak with Miss Pennyworth? What do you think of her? I told her all about you. Well... not all, of course. But enough. I daresay it helped convince her to take the job."

"Glad to hear my reputation is a recruiting tool for the young and impressionable, now.", HUNK heard his distant, bored voice return through the mask, as though of its own accord. Lying freely. Feeling an irritation stir and deepen for the Admiral already... probably a new record. Dry sarcasm pouring from his mask. "Lovely girl. A bit younger than your usual ones. Fills out the uniform in all the right places, though. Clearly meets the qualifications of the job."

"I beg your pardon, agent?", Sir Maxwell started, withdrawing his pipe from between his parting lips. Looking somewhat aghast and displeased at the response. Irritation flitting into his posh accented voice. "Mind your tongue. It is not like that. I will have you know that she is my niece."

"That right? Hadn't noticed a family resemblance. No stranger to corporate nepotism though. I'm here now. Let's try to make this fast. For both our sakes."

"Yes. Let's. We are of an accord there, at least, if not much else. Very well then. While you were up and about speaking to the Captain, I wanted to meet with you as well. Discuss a few matters. Then you may return to the medical deck. Far be it from me to interfere with Doctor Radames medical orders. Admiral or not, I value my life. I also wanted to offer my congratulations on the success of your mission... despite the cost. But that cost is something I wish to discuss before your official report is filed."

"Of course, Admiral. Not a problem. What did you want to go over?"

"A few details I spoke of with Director Henri already, as we were sifting through the red tape Colonel Vladimir imposed. Madness... madness and stupidity. This entire operation from start to finish. A near total disaster, Raccoon City. The consequences of it will be felt by the company and world for years to come. And Operation: NESTWRECKER was nearly in vain, would have been if not for your salvaging of it. A narrowly won, extremely costly victory, snatched from the jaws of defeat."

"Yet a victory all the same."

"Yes. Though any more of them like that, and we can likely kiss this company goodbye. Valuable as the G-Virus is, I sincerely doubt it will offset the price, when all is said and done."

"Not my problem, sir. The political fallout is high above my pay grade. Lord Spencer's problem. I got the job he requested done. All that matters."

"Yes... you certainly did, didn't you? Always seem to..."

The Admiral spoke with evident, deep weariness, shaking his head slowly and setting aside his pipe after a few more puffs, finishing it up. Leaning back a bit at his desk seat, he opened up one of the drawers of his desk. Producing a decanter with a whisky bottle, and starting to pour himself a glass. Glancing back up at the agent as he did so, one hand gesturing to the closest chair in front of the desk.

"You can take a seat if you wish to, agent. You look practically dead on your feet, if the state of that uniform is any indication. Must be in a good deal of pain. Would you care for a drink? I recall Vodka Martini's were more your drink of choice, at least back in the day... but this is good stuff."

HUNK looked back at the Admiral filling his glass damn near to the top. Taking a deep drink from it without flinching, drawing a low breath, savoring the burning amber liquid. Sir Maxwell was a man who drank a good deal when he could, HUNK knew. He understood, given the pressures and responsibilities of his job. All the same... even if he were not on duty... he had little interest in drinking with this man casually, and certainly not professionally. Couldn't relate to him on any level, and held only the minimum required amount of respect for him. Replacing Lady Spencer as he had. Paling to her. He did not like nor hate him. There had been worse superiors and better ones. He was a better Admiral than he was a head of U.S.S. Command. He would prefer the drinking offer of the Captain any day. Intended to take him up on it, one day. He glanced at the beckoning, comfortable leather chair in front of the desk. Then he answered the Admiral curtly without hesitation.

"No thank you, sir. I'm still on duty. We both are. And I'll stand. If it's all the same to you."

"I would say under the circumstances of Raccoon City, a drink is quite in order. And it would not surprise me if the entire Inner Circle was downing a glass, or bottle, about now. Suit yourself though. Your Spartan ways. More for me, at least."

"Ask your questions."

"Fair enough, agent. In that case... tell me... who was the agent responsible for this Birkin debacle? Who pulled the trigger?"

"Agent GHOST opened fire on him. Was left with little choice. Birkin was armed, and refusing to comply. Pointed his weapon at us. Like I told you back at NEST."

"Martinez? Your team's rookie agent... I should have figured. It was a mistake to allow his transfer in the first place. His father was correct to oppose his entry into our ranks. He was not fit for an operation of such importance. He has set this in motion, the destruction of Raccoon City. From the sounds of it he got off the hook lightly, down in NEST. If he were still alive today, here with you, I would have him stripped of his Special Agent status and promptly placed in front of a firing squad. A mercy he didn't deserve. Likely Colonel Vladimir would have wished to do more than that. A single pull of a trigger without thinking, and look what it resulted in. Sheer idiocy and incompetence of a loose cannon rookie. Even if Birkin resisted... surely there must have been a way to take him in alive."

As the weary Admiral drank some more of the glass idly, still savoring his liquor, a sudden pulse of anger coursed and burned through HUNK's veins, jaw tightening. He remained cold, kept it under control at the insinuation... but wasn't about to let it slide. Already GHOST was being set up as the company scapegoat... it seemed. As Morpheus Duvall had been for the Arklay Incident, a lie turning a man who had been a loyal employee against Lord Spencer in the process. Regardless of the reason GHOST had acted the way he had... regardless of his current loyalties... it was not the truth. Not the entire truth. And the team leader would set the record straight about his subordinate's chosen actions. HUNK limped stiffly closer to the Admiral's desk, looming over it... the gloved hand down against his side tightened into a fist. Sir Maxwell looked back up at him from his drink, gradually lowering it, eyes widened with a bit of alarm. That or he was already partially drunk. HUNK knew the chain of command... all too well, bound within it as long as he had been. The structure. He contemplated asking permission to speak freely, as he had the Captain of the vessel he respected a great deal more. Then he thought better of it, remembering his current authority from Lord Spencer and the Comtesse superseded even this man, regardless of his titles and rank. Regardless of the friendship he'd had with Lady Spencer. The blue blood. Sir Maxwell was an aristocrat before he was an Admiral. Always had been. And though he was capable, he paled compared to his predecessor as the head of U.S.S. Command. He was not impressed by Sir Maxwell... never had been, as he had the Captain back in the day. With that firmly in mind, he corrected his superior without further hesitation, voice stiff through the mask.

"Easy to say while you're sitting safely behind a desk, Admiral. Less so in the field, where there is risk. Where split second decisions are required. You weren't there, with a gun pointed at you. I was. It is regrettable, and there were dire consequences... but GHOST made the right call. Acted on instinct in defense of his direct superior and his squad. Did his duty. The true fault lies with Birkin, and his insanity. Pulling a weapon on a heavily armed team of agents. Thinking that would end well. And his delusions of grandeur, injecting himself with the G-Virus. He released the B.O.W.'s from containment, infected the facility. Not GHOST. The fault also lies with Umbrella's psyche division for not properly assessing him. Or deliberately overlooking his instability and glaring signs of treachery on account of his genius and usefulness to the company. He was only too happy to betray his own equally treacherous mentor, James Marcus, to get ahead. I watched it happen. Made it happen. You and I both saw Birkin laughing about it, that night at the party. He was laughing down in that school's laboratory too. What was ever going to stop him from doing the same thing to Lord Spencer, the moment he got a better offer from Simmons? A traitor remains a traitor to the very end. Cannot be trusted again. Whoever passed him and a number of other insane scientists like him are culpable in a good deal of Umbrella's current difficulties, and should be rooted out for corruption. All this could have been avoided if they had done their job. You should haul them in here and question them after me. Perhaps that firing squad option is more applicable to them than it would have been to GHOST. Or maybe Rockfort Island. Just my professional assessment and recommendation. Sir."

The U.S.S. Agent fell silent and still as a statue in the wake of his words, and Sir Maxwell stared up at him for quite some time... as HUNK's hand in a fist at his side slackened, relaxing again. The sudden pulse of anger abating... regretting it... and growing cool again. Silence resuming in the office, save the sounds outside it, of Miss Pennyworth's typing, muffled voices and footsteps in the corridor, and the sea. The Admiral set his half empty glass aside at last as he contemplated it visibly, taking up his pipe again and stuffing in some fresh tobacco from a nearby tin of the stuff. When the Admiral couldn't seem to find his matches to light it again, HUNK produced the Bar Black Jack lighter and lit up the flame, holding it out in offering to his superior as a somewhat conciliatory gesture. One that Sir Maxwell accepted it, moving his pipe forward to the flame and lighting it. HUNK closed the Zippo back up in a clanging of metal on metal, tucking it back out of sight, as the Admiral returned from his reverie. Acquiescing.

"Thank you. Picked up a new lighter too, from the looks of it. Did some shopping in Raccoon City. Have you misplaced Lady Spencer's graduation gift?"

"You're welcome, sir. Didn't misplace. Replaced. Found a better one."

"Everything is replaceable. Always a better alternative out there, I suppose."

"So I'm coming to learn, of late."

"You... raise some insightful points to consider, Agent HUNK. Of Birkin and NEST. If in your usual... intense... sort of way. I will indeed look into the matter more closely. Get to the bottom of it, whoever evaluated Birkin. Plenty of blame to go around. Especially over this Raccoon City business. Failure up and down the line. But... I digress. Back to the matter at hand. Where is the G-Virus now?"

"Close, sir. Real close. Safe. Secure. Have my word."

"Good. Let me see it."

"Negative, Admiral."

"I beg your pardon, agent? Was that a refusal?"

"Per your own instructions. From Lord Spencer, to Director Henri, to you, to me. I am to surrender the G-Virus to nobody but Director Henri in Loire Village. Not even Lord Spencer can countermand the order. Or did I somehow mishear you back at the R.P.D.?"

"Of course you didn't. Nothing slips past you. Zealous as the Colonel with these matters.", Sir Maxwell observed with a ghost of a smile, shaking his head. Releasing a few more puffs steadily. Leaning back a little in his seat. "No insult intended in that comparison. More differences than similarities with you two. You are quite right, keep the G-Virus concealed. Merely a little test."

"Of my wits or my loyalty, sir?"

"Whatever makes you ask that?"

"Imagine it's in question, about now. By more than a few. Especially with the Colonel's attempted sabotage of my mission. Had plenty of time to talk about me, put the word out on me, while I was carrying out my mission. Push the claim I am a traitor."

"Yes... I'm afraid he has. There are certainly some naysayers... and that is part of the reason you are here."

"Part, or the primary reason, sir?"

"The primary reason, to be sure.", The Admiral admitted after a pause, in which he took another sip and puff respectively. Looking somewhat hesitant for a moment or two, before focing himself on. Addressing the matter. "Your actions... and lack of them... pertaining to the S.T.A.R.S."

"What of them?"

"There is a bounty on their heads, Agent HUNK, as you already knew. They are each wanted by the company for their involvement in the Arklay Incident, the destruction of Lord Spencer's property. They had and have knowledge of what unfolded there. You not only worked with them, but helped destroy the Nemesis... protected that girl from it. From Umbrella property. Then when you had three of the four in your grasp... you let them all go. Why? What have you to say for yourself?"

HUNK stared back at the Admiral silently, considering the man idly puffing away at his pipe. No judgement either way was visible in the aristocrat's features or radiating from his tone... though curiosity seemed to be. A faint amount of it. HUNK had known this part was coming... and having prepared for it already, he spoke what he had to calmly.

"I was under no orders regarding them, sir. They did not factor into Operation: NESTWRECKER. Any active mission to assassinate them was outside of my operation. Upon encountering them, I improvised. Adapted. Overcame. I possessed the authority to proceed in said operation as I saw fit, as long as I escaped with the G-Virus, nothing else mattered. I encountered and utilized them as assets for a way out of the city. The illegally dispatched Nemesis threatened me, and by extension the completion of my mission. Perhaps working with her slowed me down, but ultimately, my decision paid off. I survived. The mission is nearly completed. The ends justify the means. The details will be in my report."

"That may be so... careful, logical reasoning... but it likely won't matter with a few of the more... pessimistic, agent. And vindictive. Won't go over well with everyone. Within the Inner Circle and without. There will be rumblings, as you already know."

"When haven't there been? If any of them have a complaint or suspicions about me, my loyalty... my conduct in the field, they are free to file it up the chain of command to Director Henri. She would be only too pleased to hear their questioning of my authority and expertise, I imagine."

A slight, appreciative smile crossed the Admiral's lined features at his suggestion. Wry. Understanding just as well as HUNK did. What she would do to any who were foolish enough to do such a thing. Questioning HUNK was the equivalent of questioning her. Those who didn't fear him, felt safe from him, most certainly feared her and what she could do with her power as Lord Spencer's left hand lady.

"Good answer. Expected nothing less, from Director Henri's right hand. She has taught you to be deft in these matters. The questions of your loyalty are minor, and personal in nature. No doubt your report will clear it up... and with the retrieval of the G-Virus, most of the naysayers will be silenced. One way or the other. I expect Director Henri will indeed take care of that, if necessary. If they continue. She was... rather displeased with the insinuations... certain parties have already brought to her attention."

HUNK was certain he knew what the Admiral was getting at. Attempting to steer this towards. Insinuating. He decided to get ahead of the man... get it over with. It would happen sooner or later. Better he balance the precarious ledge he was on now. Speaking again, his voice calm and firm. Asking him what he was already certain he knew.

"These naysayers and their questions... they are about Valentine specifically, aren't they? They believe I have been compromised by her. That I am a turncoat. Shared company secrets with her in the field. I have been accused."

All at once Sir Maxwell looked slightly embarrassed, though he tried to quickly hide it. The fidgeting with his pipe gave it away though. He took another drink, clearing his throat, and gradually, uncomfortably speaking up again. Attempting to sound cool and distant from it all, and failing.

"You... were seen on the Umbrella Satellite Network with her. Engaging in... behaving less than... your usual professional self with her, if you will pardon my allusions. You also granted her access to QUARTERMASTER on the U.S.S. Frequency for a technical briefing on a weapon. Spent an extended amount of time with her. Consider yourself fortunate the Valentine girl never discovered that G-Virus on you. Figured out your mission. Likely you would not be standing here alive as you are."

"Yeah. Real fortunate."

HUNK's low, dry tone echoed through the mask, the image of her hovering over him in that clock tower library with it in her palm returning. Now they were getting to the crux of it. What was being whispered about him. What the Captain had warned him of. The inevitable pettiness. He felt discomfort as well... though more irritation than discomfort. Being spoken of this way among the rank and file was one thing... personal matters... now they had risen as high as the Inner Circle. At least... if they hadn't already long ago. He had no way of knowing, not being permitted to sit in on any of the meetings, despite Director Henri requesting he be able to. Her idea of course, instead of his. He had been relieved to hear from her that Lord Spencer had denied the request, much to his gratitude and her irritation. There were some things he didn't want to know. He already knew more than enough about Umbrella as it were. At last, his voice spoke up again steadily... willing himself to address what wasn't their business... yet now was.

"She required information on the Mine Thrower to utilize it more efficiently. She had never used an advanced weapon like it before, obviously. As for the other matter between us... I didn't know my... entanglements... had become a matter of discussion within the Inner Circle. Job must not be keeping them very busy."

"No subjects are off the table there, as you well know. Where the company is concerned. Colonel Vladimir and those aligned with him brought it to the table. Accused you. Suffice it to say... it has... understandably made some heads turn. Especially given your involvement and knowledge of certain... sensitive matters... within the Inner Circle. Your sterling over a decade long record and loyalty to the company is above any serious reproach, Director Henri, myself, Director Owens of Umbrella Headquarters and most in the Inner Circle have vouched for you already. The Director rightly argued it was only a minor breach of protocol during an active mission... under quite understandable mitigating circumstances. Duress. Most were won over right away, but all the same, there are whispers. With this Raccoon City outbreak, the looming fallout, some within the Inner Circle are seeing potential traitors everywhere. Paranoia spreads rapidly. A witch hunt."

"Witch hunts will never be about witches. It's an opportune time to create scapegoats. Certain parties wish to purge me. Chiefly among them an avowed communist who has loyally served the Soviet Union. Sent many to the gulags. A man who deserves no place within this company and set up his own NKVD. Spreading said paranoia himself. Doubt Rodriquez and the Second U.S.S. Unit's defection did me any favors either."

"Indeed. Colonel Vladimir had a field day over that one... especially blew his top when he found out the Nyx specimen was stolen. Likely destroyed. Further pointing the finger of blame at Umbrella Security Service, claiming that we have been compromised. Pushing for the Monitor Division to be prioritized and take over internal security as a whole, as usual. Former Captain Rodriquez's family and friends are under official investigation. Though whatever dirty laundry you located on the Colonel in the field, between that laptop and Supervisor Zinoviev... after your confrontation on the flight deck, he has become mightily silent in his original accusations against you. Focusing elsewhere. Though he has not commanded others in his own circle to drop the matter. Proxies, as ever. He is attempting to save face for Director Nielsen and Commander Arnold's failure to retrieve Nyx and eliminate Rodriquez."

The Admiral paused at last, considering the situation and shaking his head, harrumphing and waving his pipe dismissively. Taking another sip and letting HUNK contemplate what he had said. It was clear from the weary look on the aristocrat's lined features that the meeting had pissed him off, all the red tape and hoops he'd had to jump through. Whatever he had struggled through with Director Henri behind the scenes to make some headway throughout the outbreak with the Inner Circle. He didn't expect Sir Maxwell to get into the details, clearly preferring to look down a glass of whiskey than relive it, but he did expect that Comtesse Henri would, in due time. When he was at her side again... and away from prying eyes. Sighing under his breath, Sir Maxwell went on again.

"The usual petty internal politics are at play. Despite what you've been through, it is business as usual now that you're back, Agent HUNK. You understand. Are adapting again already. You did well against him... have learned a good deal about the game from the Director. She'll be pleased."

"Yes. At least... I know enough that another demonstration of my loyalty will be required. After I complete Operation: NESTWRECKER. I will silence Rodriquez and any possible survivors of his defecting squad myself... once they have been located by the U.I.D., and when the order arrives. Rest assured."

Already, even as he calmly declared the death sentence upon one or several, he did not look forward to seeing the Captain he respected again. The circumstances it would be under. Hoped the U.I.D. would not find him. But... there were few in the world who could hide from Alex and her colleagues. For better and for worse. That inevitable mission aside... part of him envied the man. The courage he'd had to fly away, leave it all behind... break his shackles... as GHOST had as well... and as he could not. Though there was an element of cowardice to Rodriquez as well that bothered HUNK. Abandoning his family and friends, the life he had already made with Umbrella. Leaving them at Colonel Vladimir's questionable, dubious mercy. A life with Umbrella that he'd had a choice in making in the first place, as HUNK had not. Given his own treason... he couldn't question the fellow U.S.S. veteran much, judge him, having so little ground to stand on. He was many things to many people... but he tried not to be a hypocrite to any of them. The pain, bad as it was, was manageable... but he felt very tired within, not physically but mentally drained, all of a sudden... and wished to be alone again. To recharge from all the social contact with others. Even the mask and helmet offered little shield at the moment as the Admiral studied him like an x-ray. Or at least, he wished to be back in his bed on the medical deck, under Doctor Radames watchful, concerned eye. Someone he could trust. And... cared for. Thankfully, the Admiral spoke again before HUNK had to come up with something more. Moving them on.

"Your viral delivery and report will reassure the naysayers in the meantime, or at least quiet them down. Handling Rodriquez even more so... but we are getting ahead of ourselves there. You are still in the midst of one mission, and on the mend. Must heal before undertaking another. We have had our disagreements over the years on numerous courses of action... but I wanted to warn you the directions the political winds were currently blowing in the midst of this storm. Where you stand in it. As your superior... and out of respect for my predecessor. The debt I owe her."

"I appreciate that, Admiral. Really. Was there anything else?"

"That will be all for now, Agent HUNK. I've kept you long enough, and you still have a good deal of mending left to do before you will be ready for what comes next. In the meantime, I eagerly await your report from the Paris Facility, upon mission completion. Until then... you are hereby dismissed."

"Yes sir. Thank you for the heads up."

"That's why I'm here, Agent HUNK. We needn't like one another to work together. Good luck in Loire Village. I expect you're going to need it. Between the Comtesse and that gigantic mutated arthropod, I think you were safer off tangling with the latter."

The Admiral returned, smiling thinly... and HUNK understood his meaning at once. Instead of speaking again, he replied by raising a gloved hand to his helmet in a crisp salute, which the Admiral returned at once. Turning on his boot without hesitation, HUNK all but fled the Admiral's office, making for the door, passing through and closing it behind him. Drawing a low, muffled breath. Grateful to be out of the room again. When he exited into the hall, the security team, standing off a ways from the blonde secretary's desk, were still speaking to one another, SENTINEL hadn't noticed him yet. Looking to the desk where the young uniformed woman was watching him silently... jaw tightening... something occurred to him to do. He made a decision in a split second to go through with it. Seizing his opportunity. If Sir Maxwell was going to use his reputation and company 'fame' to draw his own niece into their ranks... the least the girl deserved was to hear an alternative. To know she had one. And to know what she was getting into. He would do the Admiral's job for him, as ever. Moving down to her desk, he saw her eyes widening a bit as he approached... trepidation and curiosity, not having expected him to go to her. Much less extending his gloved hand to her in offering. She looked at it a bit tentatively for a long moment, and back to his intact and shattered lenses... before, with a nervous smile, she took his hand, and he grasped it firmly, shaking it. Terse, muffled voice emerging from the mask as he leaned forward a bit closer over the desk. Quiet, reserved, so she alone could hear him.

"Welcome aboard the Leviathan, Miss Pennyworth. And welcome to Umbrella. Hope you survive the experience."

"Thank you, I... huh? Survive? What do you... what are you...-"

"Picked a hell of a time to join up. May wish to reconsider. You're young. Know it seems exciting now. Been where you are. Not worth the price. Your uncle will understand. Get out while you still can. While you still have hope."

The girl's attractive, soft features turned bewildered and flustered, trying to process his words and speak, but HUNK abruptly drew back his hand and from the desk at once and down towards the security team. Leaving her to ponder his warning. Hoping she heeded it... but doubting it, and knowing it was out of his hands. At least she had been warned... and could get out through her uncle. Rejoining the security team, they broke off from their conversation... and within moments SENTINEL and the others led him down the corridor away from her desk and Sir Maxwell's office to the nearest stairwell and to the elevator below. Passing many more watchful, curious crewmen and agents along the way. Leaving the bridge and U.S.S. Command behind them. He willed himself to ignore all the stares... finding it easier, content in the knowledge he had tried to warn the girl... and that he would soon be away from all the stares. Or at least the ones that left him uncomfortable. Stepping into the lift with the security team, as it activated to return them to Doctor Radames waiting on the medical deck, he looked back ahead to the closing doors. Watching the bridge vanish, replaced by steel, and the rumbling through them all starting as the elevator descended. All of them silent... save the upbeat elevator music emanating around them. Oddly soothing, this time, compared to the elevators back in Raccoon City. He felt SENTINEL's eyes in the back of his head... and saw them watching him silently in the reflection of the elevator doors. But it wasn't him he pondered just now. He considered the meetings and how they had gone down... certain they could have been worse. Pleased they were out of the way, at least. He could consider them more later... after another checkup, some breakfast and more bed rest. As well as going over the laptop with QUARTERMASTER some more, checking more of the files... all had to be accounted for before reaching Loire Village. And making sure Nikolai hadn't died while he was away, of course. He had made it through his surgery, and was in the recovery phase now. He would not get a comfortable, painless death on the medical deck of the Leviathan, HUNK had vowed. He wouldn't get off that easily. But he didn't dwell on Nikolai long... or even Colonel Vladimir, or what must come next.

He thought about Jill... hoped she was where she promised she would be. Hoped the Comtesse saw it his way, and agreed to his requests. That she was more relieved to see him than she was pissed off with him... though he expected some amount of each.

Still... the meetings had gone better than he had thought it was going to... and the heads up from the Admiral had been welcome. The appreciation of the Captain. And there was nothing else to deal with for the rest of the trip, now. Smooth sailing to Europe and mission completion from here. For the moment, that knowledge was reassuring enough... even as the contents of his mission, what he was delivering, silently rankled at him. More and more. The elevator reached the medical deck, then, and out the hall they went, down towards Doctor Radames lab once more. Reaching it at long last, he paused before the door, turning and looking back to SENTINEL. Studying the other veteran's hard features. For a moment, it looked as though the ship security officer might say something. Resume the previous discussion. Argument, really. Instead, looking a shade or two less grim, less hostile... he merely nodded slightly... an understanding gesture HUNK returned. It spoke volumes, from SENTINEL. Said enough. There had been enough talk... and they were not enemies, despite their experiences. Despite the disagreements. They remained as they always had, on the same side. Looking to the guards, SENTINEL nodded to them as well, before turning on the spot and departing the medical deck, moving down and vanishing beyond the corridor. Once he was out of view, HUNK looked back to the half a dozen guards the SSO had left behind... and the guards stood at attention, saluting him... a gesture he returned at once. Once he had, they took up their assigned posts and positions outside the lab, standing guard, as the Captain had commanded them to. He felt even more of a relief at that... knowing at last here he wouldn't have to watch his own back. That he could count on the others. Another buffer between him and the U.B.C.S. From everyone, really. Turning back to the door, limping towards it, he gripped its handle drew it open and slipped back inside the laboratory where the good doctor and further recuperation awaited him, closing and sealing it behind him again. Turning to face her as she flitted across the lab towards him again, voicing her usual concerns. Fussing. He listened to it calmly, quietly and patiently as she wrapped her arm around him and drew him back towards the bed he had been drawn from, helping him undo his armor and uniform once more when they reached it. One piece at a time as before, setting it down on the bedside trolley.

Once he was stripped down again, she helped him lay back down in the bed... though sleep did not come. At least right away. He listened to her update about Nikolai as she hovered overhead... and as he did so, finding himself content at last, despite the pain.

Now his return to the Leviathan was complete.

---

This one took longer to write and edit, because of its importance to my universe, setting up another vital location and world to the lore, and a ton of characters. So much so I'll have some notes and thoughts here. Can't tell you how much of a blast I had finally writing the Supervillain Hub, where all the Umbrella characters are, many of them at least. The villain side of things. More sci fi, militaristic, clandestine and high tech than other places, which makes sense, Resident Evil has always had touches of more technology than existed in the real 1998, especially at a global corporation like Umbrella, so I liked being more imaginative that way, where Raccoon City was more grounded. "Meanwhile at the Legion Of Doom!" Delving into HUNK's world and company relationships. Who he is and how he feels and must behave while among them compared to how he was in Raccoon City, the tightrope he walks. His role. Though he is a changed man from his experiences too, and is trying to keep on the mask he now must wear deeper than the gas mask. Inner conflict. I liked the idea of him having to reestablish himself upon returning home after all that happened. War's prodigal son indeed. More of all that to come. Still, like any prison you'll make friends, allies there if you want to survive, I wanted that equivalent to be present with HUNK. He is an introvert unlike most villains at Umbrella who are more grandiose, can socialize, with those he trusts, who are fewer, but the bonds closer. Hence how he is with Carla, QUARTERMASTER, Alex (W, shhh, HUNK doesn't need to know that) and NIGHTHAWK. And then there are his superiors, and his differing relationships to them. Mutual respect with SHIPMASTER, between two tough guys, but some clash, basically every 80's action movie superior rolled into one. "You're a loose cannon HUNK! You're off the case!" "You're off your case, Captain." And show realistic consequences to HUNK's actions. And an element of mentorship, fatherly behavior, of course. Tough but fair superior. I think it quietly saddened him watching HUNK's transformation over the years, but obviously as a hard ass badass he can't let that show much, so looks out for him in a more manly dad way. Cares.

1986 SHIPMASTER watching young HUNK in the Captain's Cabin while Lady Spencer is going over a report, thinking: *Jesus H. Christ. She's going to fuck up and destroy this poor, naive kid. Grabbed him by the balls and by the heart. All for her own selfish interests.*

And on the other hand there is mutual reluctance and uneasiness with Sir/Admiral Maxwell, him coming from Lady Spencer's upper class world, while HUNK comes from a lesser one, a divide. SHIPMASTER not intimidated by HUNK, the Admiral somewhat so. People of different backgrounds and similarities and differences will interact differently. HUNK is kind of an asshole kind of not depending on who he is interacting with. Tightly wound around some, more at ease with those he trusts. Part of his cool distance from most others. But there is much more to him, buried away. Most won't notice, but some who are paying attention will notice he isn't quite the same after Raccoon City. He was much more by the book before it, now he has some 'loose cannon' tendencies, and is telling small truths he can get away with, 'brutal honesty' after a life of dishonesty for Umbrella. That encounter with the secretary for example, pre Raccoon City HUNK would only say something like "Pleasure, Miss Pennyworth." And leave it at that, not say another word to her, not care. I like playing with all the nuances and dynamics of relationships and characters, contrasting them with one another. Showing how much he has changed from Raccoon City, but has not changed entirely, of course. Still a villain, still has quite a ways to go. But is human. I try to make all the Umbrella villains that, with motives and personal matters. I even liked giving the Undertaker Commander something, however small, doing more with him than Capcom ever did. (Oh, and HUNK is never going to live down his status as Slayer Of Giant Worms, and yes he was wearing Snake Plissken's shirt under that bodysuit the entire time lol)

I enjoyed writing him and Doctor Radames interacting, figuring out who she is, my version of her, putting in actual development that Capcom didn't bother with. She had the potential to be a great human villain, but they made her a generic doomsday villain in RE 6, more squandered potential. Part of why I've involved her in Umbrella and have her interacting with people, to flesh out her later motives and who she is. Why she formed Neo Umbrella and did other such things. She's not that woman yet, obviously, but what she ends up becoming doesn't happen out of nowhere in my universe. She's still pretty much good overall, despite being a virologist, bioweapons specialist and working for Villains Inc lol. Still has ethics and a code... but a fascination with her field of expertise that we know won't end well one day. Still, I wanted to humanize her.

For Colonel Vladimir I wanted a 'social' boss battle/face off of sorts between him and HUNK. A confrontation between two heavies out in the prison yard, basically. I loved the imagery of the showdown on the deck of the Leviathan, U.S.S. vs U.B.C.S., The Grim Reaper vs The Tyrant Progenitor, two titans and company legends facing off. If I could draw, there are many points in this story I wish I could see in art, alas. Much as a physical fight would be awesome though, it just wasn't feasible under the circumstances. There are other ways to fight an enemy. And it sort of shows HUNK is more than physical fights, that things are different in how he conducts himself in the field than how he is at Umbrella among 'peers'. I enjoyed writing the big Russian bastard for a scene, which is still significantly more than Capcom has done with him since Umbrella Chronicles. They basically forgot he even existed, despite being Umbrella's second in command, couldn't even be bothered to mention him in the RE 2 or RE 3 remakes. Pathetic. One more great character I tried to do justice. I liked toying with the idea there's more even to this psycho, he is genuinely fond of his Tyrant 'children' like a father. Naturally it would piss him off on more than an ego level when HUNK has killed Tyrants in the past. And he wants the fatherly approval of Lord Spencer. I like making even these messed up villains more rounded than the games got around to doing. And him and HUNK pushing each other's sensitive subjects, turning the screws and seeing what works best. And testing their positions, of course Vladimir is worse overall, but in some ways I wanted HUNK to make the reader more uncomfortable. Colonel Vladimir willing to end the fight, HUNK dragging it out a bit longer, low blows. They're both bad men, which is worse just depends on the matter. Despite how awesome the clash seems to the people watching in the moment, take a step back. I wanted their fight to reveal how petulant they both are the moment they open their mouths, and how fundamentally flawed and petty they are as human beings. No matter how impressive their skills and reputations, what they have done. It's a playground fight at the end of the day, and neither should be admired, especially for risking others lives over it. But that lesson is lost in the moment on most of the observers. SHIPMASTER is correct.

HUNK: "You're a father to lab freaks. How touching. I look forward to killing more of your children."

Colonel Vladimir: "Better a caring father of super beings than a shitty, absentee father who fucks other men's wives."

HUNK: "He's got me there."

U.S.S./U.B.C.S./Leviathan Crew: *Eating popcorn, eyes swiveling back and forth between them*

Poor GHOST though is missing out on great stuff, but he's probably better off for it, all things considered.

SENTINEL was me fleshing out more of the ship and U.S.S. story function (of course a ship needs a head of security), as well as HUNK's background and operations in Africa, Umbrella Africa. And thematically, bringing up the subject of HUNK's leadership capabilities. Even though he is a good leader, (not among the best, but good, he's a better solo agent than team leader) how long are others going to think that when you go on many suicide missions and are the only survivor of them? More consequences are being felt, for being the way HUNK is. Many may admire him, respect him, hell even many of his critics do, but his excess and the repercussions of them will be felt. Those agents all had friends and family, and HUNK isn't really held accountable for their deaths, given his position and benefactors, a VIP among agents. That would leave a number of people bitter. SENTINEL is a bit more down to earth, though has his own struggle as well, in his posting on the Leviathan. Cut off from the world in a way similar yet different to HUNK. No longer out in the field, but safe on his ship to criticize HUNK, who doesn't take shit lying down. At least not anymore, after Raccoon City. Before he would have likely dismissed the criticisms entirely, probably not even say a word. Not care enough. It's another strange, complicated relationship between him and HUNK, who have worked together before. Not everyone is going to look at him admiringly, SENTINEL's skepticism of the 'golden boy' reputation is a more focused criticism someone more on HUNK's level would have for him, instead of a superior authority. A peer directly criticizing him. Not everyone is going to be impressed with him, or be out standing in that hyped up fawning crowd that greeted him on the flight deck. But they don't hate each other... they're just on separate paths, and were friends once. They could both benefit from sitting down and talking it out... communicating better, but that ain't them. I like having layered relationships like that, even if they are mostly in passing in this chapter. Look how many characters and dynamics I had to introduce. A universe, really.

As for "Monitor Roger" I highly recommend watching Biohazard 4D-Executer on YouTube to refresh yourself about 'him', if you haven't already. To paraphrase the bearded legendary hero of the classic 1982 movie The Thing: "Somebody on this boat ain't what he appears to be."

The smile and wink was the mask slipping, a fond "Aw... you've finally conquered your fear of crowds and onlookers, haven't you, John?" Proud of him for facing down Umbrella's second in command. He's all grown up, and behaving just like Lady Spencer now. They got along at that party at the Spencer Mansion, related well, met other times as well over the past decade. Umbrella Japan, among other places. She won't go on a monster rampage on the ship though, of course, she's in infiltration mode. Has more control than that, at least for now. Just hitching a ride on the Supervillain Luxury Liner, and inside Roger's flesh, to get where she needs to go, for reasons. A story for another time, perhaps.

Onward to Loire Village, and a certain noble lady some of you may have been waiting on for awhile. Stick around.