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.

48. Chapter 47: To Hell And Back

Magd305TLC: I'm glad to hear you are enjoying it ;). As for Carla becoming an Ada doppelganger in my universe, it is still eventually going to happen, that's a damn big, vital part of her becoming a supervillain, but would be awhile yet, and be much more fleshed out than the game and the context a bit different. My take on RE 6 would play out differently than the game did. Actual explanations and development, like I do for HUNK and others in this story. An explanation for why she formed Neo Umbrella, for instance, which I hint at here by showing she is a former Umbrella employee who see's it as her home. Capcom had a good thing with Carla and Simmons, but fumbled in their characterizations and development, wasted villains, turned Carla into a generic doomsday villain. I think I could write her better. A good villain needs a human motive of sorts, a reason they are doing something horrific. Lord Spencer for instance, it's not just about attaining godhood and an army of supermen, I think he genuinely fears death, hates chaos and is obsessed with order, thus wants to make the world a utopia of his own making, hence his thirst for immortality. Colonel Vladimir, awful as he is, wants to make Lord Spencer proud of him, sees him as the father he never had. Albert Wesker wants to defy his maker, succeed where he failed, but in the end is still just a tool of Spencer's will, a tragic yet dangerous villain. See what I mean? Most villains can have great human motivations. Though truth be told, I don't think Marcus had any deep motivation beyond research, a mad scientist to the core. And there are some others like him, like Birkin. But anyways, as of now, Carla is still the relatively good, yet a bit too curious scientist who nobody, least of all her, suspects will one day nearly destroy the world. Come the closest to it.

I've only glanced at Village, and you are right, the concept is interesting, but it simply doesn't work as a Resident Evil game. Too thematically different, strayed away from the heart of the series. Capcom should have made a new IP, a supernatural world with vampires and werewolves and such. They clearly have the imagination for it, and I would have been more interested in that. Instead they're cashing in on the Resident Evil brand name, little more. I'm more waiting on the new Silent Hill game currently in the works, hope the developers of that get it right.

As for HUNK and Comtesse Henri's relationship, you might be surprised. Company gossip isn't always right, outside eyes can only see so much. Especially when it comes to a couple, behind closed doors ;). More complicated than being a merely toxic relationship. Might not be the healthiest, but there's a bit more going on to it than that.

CommissarDaniel: Much appreciated.

Jinero: Doubt HUNK would butt in much on Barry's personal and family drama, he knows he has no leg to stand on, as an absentee father himself. Tries not to be a hypocrite. That said if the arguing kept up or Polly kept being a brat, he probably would speak up for Barry, who is at least trying to be a good father. Call her an ingrate and a brat perhaps. Fatherhood is a personal matter to him, touchy subject. He wouldn't make it about himself having saved Barry, though. He doesn't consider Barry owing him one, because Barry was only in danger from Umbrella because of HUNK in the first place. Whereas Barry saved his life genuinely, wasn't the reason he was in such a dangerous spot in Raccoon City. He owes Barry one.

HUNK doesn't really know Alex, despite their banter and distant interactions, and he knows that. He doesn't necessarily trust she isn't another Umbrella supervillain, especially given the nature of the U.I.D., he simply appreciates what she has done for his missions. She's useful, and a fellow professional in 1998. Though eventually he would be disgusted of what she is doing, especially after battling her consciousness hopping predecessor Doctor Cameron, her being another vestige of Lord Spencer's insane dream of immortal godhood at any price.

Echo Five: HUNK will be 41-42 by the end of Resident Evil 5, Jill 34-35. A bit more plausible than Tony Stark and Pepper at least lol. As for naming a kid after Rebecca, that's unlikely. Would be more than a little awkward in my universe, as a matter of fact lol.

She would indeed. Blow off the head of anyone who threatens her child, with her Samurai Edge. If HUNK didn't C.Q.B.Z., neckbreak or gun them down with Matilda first.

Nantono: After the events of my universe's take on Resident Evil 5? Yes, HUNK and Jill would get their happily ever after together, for the long haul. But that's about ten years after this story takes place. A lot of pain and suffering to get there as well.

He will not tell her he loves Jill or something like that, keeps much of what he feels to himself, but can't exactly refute the footage of them kissing at the clock tower. He has to walk a tight rope at Umbrella, really. That said, the Comtesse does not perceive Jill as a threat, she is extremely self confident and assured where romance and their relationship is concerned. There is only one woman in the world she considers a threat for HUNK's affections.

evolution-500: I very much liked writing the standoff and the Undertaker Commander too, his cameo was a late addition, and he sort of just came together to me, his little passing interaction with HUNK. I don't believe I'll write a story about him, but if I have future use for him he'll certainly be included in another story. The Code Veronica one, likely, set about a month after he and his Trashsweepers clean up Sheena Island. I would pick the ending where Goldman bites it from a Tyrant, much more poetic justice than the UT Commander dying. Goldman and Ark Thompson are the enemies of that story, UT Commander was just sent by Umbrella HQ to clean up that mess. And Goldman was manufacturing Tyrants, running the plant for Colonel Vladimir. I liked the idea of all these strange villains sort of hanging around the Leviathan, Umbrella rivals, but a respect with him and HUNK. Both working class badasses at Umbrella, the best at what they do, similar, but contrasting. UT Commander is not famous or popular, has more anonymity and privacy than HUNK and is seen more as a freaky outcast than a legendary badass. Running a unit of B.O.W.'s. HUNK meanwhile would give much to trade places with the man lol, to cut himself off from others, from the Inner Circle/Board/Lord Spencer and having benefactors. Man just wants to be left alone for the most part, but people won't let him be, is very conflicted too of course. UT Commander meanwhile is quite content with what he does, knows just who he is. And so do I ;).

Thanks for the heads up on the errors, I try to get as many as I can, but some always insist on slipping past. And glad to hear you are enjoying the story as much as you do ;). More to come.

Akira-Hayama: Either you're very good at analyzing possibilities, or I'm blatant about my hint dropping, given I care so little for spoilers lol. Or you have me figured out, for my character expansions and combing characters. Good guess, friend, hope you are satisfied with the GHOST and Ada story I'll soon tell. A duo quite a bit different from HUNK and Jill.

You are sadly correct on Colonel Vladimir, the idiots at Capcom never expanded on him, never included him in another game. Not so much as a mention. The right hand man of Lord Spencer, rival of Wesker, creator and leader of the U.B.C.S. and Monitors, genetic progenitor of the Tyrants, the last loyal leader of Umbrella who goes down with the ship defending it to the end. And apparently Capcom thinks a man like that is important *shakes head slowly*. So I was glad to write him a bit, give him a hefty scene, and more characterization than he got. Presence. I liked him, the idea of him, but as ever Capcom didn't let him come to fruition. Such a shame. Yes indeed, I enjoyed writing a social battle instead of a physical one, something different, which was necessary for obvious reasons lol can't have all the Umbrella heavies slaughtering one another in an exchange of gunfire. The Colonel can't die before he is canonically supposed to. There were a number of character dynamics and nuances I was able to work into it that I enjoyed. It was probably for the best GHOST wasn't there, that itchy trigger finger of his caused more than enough problems for the entire world, and doomed Umbrella in the end xD. Small role, big impact. But, that's his angst to mull over and deal with in his story.

There were hints HUNK cared about his team in the remake, and this story is sort of going off that characterization in part. I wouldn't say it's like the commander who is a father to his men sort of relationship, HUNK is more cold and distant than that, but he is a man who shoulders blame and responsibility as a leader. Is a professional, not a coward, and respects their abilities. Would not ask more of his men than he is willing to do himself. I didn't want to write the Doomslayeresque robot HUNK from the games who doesn't give a shit at all about those he is leading... because frankly, a piss poor leader like that is going to have a lot of consequences xD, who would agree to be under his command if all he does is keeps getting agents killed? They might try to mutiny against him. In the games he's a far better solo operative than a leader, they should have just sent him to infiltrate NEST, run out with the virus stock and unconscious Birkin over his shoulder, flee the city to NIGHTHAWK's chopper, mission accomplished xD. But really, it's the lack of humanity to the original HUNK I didn't want to write, wasn't interested in, nihilism, I want to write human beings, complicated ones in HUNK's case, when it came to fleshing out why he is so cold and distant. Coming up with why he is the way he is, and the effect being him has on a psyche. I think many in universe perceive HUNK the way he is in the games, a cold blooded sociopath who gets everyone killed, dangerous, only seeing him from the outside, but we have been inside his head, and know the truth. There's much more going on in his head than he shows to most others. Conflict. He is certainly dangerous, involved in a deadly career, but that isn't all there is to him. Not in my universe, anyways. A pity Capcom never thought him worthy of fleshing out more, though at least they did a little bit in the remake.

The remaining chapters to this story will be universe and character building, exploring dynamics and consequences, instead of outright action, of course, with Raccoon City out of the way. Necessary to the telling of the story, the fallout/aftermath of what happened in the city. Setting up what comes next. Hopefully it doesn't bore anyone, I too am tempted to get into action, but it'll have to wait for the GHOST/Ada short story. There's an entire world outside the infestations to establish, especially the Umbrella/corporation one, the villain side of things, from HUNK's POV. Though don't count Jill out just yet, more of her to come as well ;).

Thanks for the review as ever, friend.

Degurechaff Gintoki: Gracias.

Grizzlie: Much appreciated, I enjoyed the character dynamics and introducing HUNK's supporting cast. Any protagonist needs one, of course. They will indeed factor into the story going forward, if I can get to writing sequels *nods*.

Spartan: Jill and Carlos would be troubled by what Annette was doing in NEST obviously, the sick work, but also being touched by the efforts she went to to save her daughter and prevent the G-Virus from escaping Raccoon City. They would be very conflicted about the whole thing.

As for HUNK, well... he's much more understandably biased, knows Annette much better than either them. He would feel zero pity, conflict or sympathy for her. Had he been at Claire's side, he would stand over Annette's dying body, staring at her unblinkingly like Judge Dredd as she bleeds out and saying something coldly to the effect of:

"Not good enough. Saving your own daughter was your duty as a parent. It does not undo the hundreds of other children you and your husband murdered to design your virus in the first place. You're getting off easy. Wherever you're going." (Heaven, Hell, Purgatory, Reincarnation or Nothingness)

Then when she died he would turn and depart at once without a single look back. I doubt even Sherry's presence would stop him from calling Annette what she is in her final moments. For the best he wasn't there in that game lol. He would have killed or captured her himself if he got the chance, if it had been in the orders for Operation: NESTWRECKER. Unfortunately it was not. It's both a personal and professional disgust he has for the Birkins. Especially seeing what William was down in that laboratory after assassinating Marcus for him. The way he was gloating and all but salivating over Marcus's repugnant research data from the human test subjects. To say nothing of that Raccoon City orphanage. And shaking his hand at that party at the mansion. HUNK has had a decade to brood over it all.

As for the matter of Sherry Birkin and Derek Simmons, that will play out differently in my universe. And involve HUNK. She might not be a guinea pig... for as long as she canonically was, at least ;).

Vong: Some questions about HUNK and his past I don't think need to be answered. Did he have siblings? Friends? Who were his parents? What were their names and occupations? Did they get along? Where in America did he come from? I don't see all that as important, the minor details. The past parts I've shown have been to inform his character, paint enough of a picture of who he was compared to how he is in the present. The present is more important than his past, and there will always be an element of mystery to him, even for him. That said, Lady Spencer is the one who knows everything about him, who he is, where he comes from, his birthday, where he was born, etc. She knows too much about the universe and its characters, ongoing plots, really, which is why she will likely never be a POV character. For all HUNK does know, there is plenty more he doesn't. Sometimes a lack of information is more vital in telling a story than an abundance of it within the story. I think the most vital part of his origin, the turning point, was when he was 14, at the orphanage, and Lady Spencer met him and chose him, instead of letting him die a nameless, faceless test subject in a laboratory. That's really the springboard of his entire character, along with when he assassinated Doctor Marcus and really started to sip the chalice of his evil lifestyle at Umbrella. Lose himself gradually, before he could start finding himself again.

As you rightly surmised, once Colonel Vladimir bites the dust in 2003, most U.S.S. Agents and U.B.C.S men went into hiding, turned mercenary or joined one of Umbrella's many rival companies like Tricell and Sheng Ya. Definitely fled America and other western countries, at least. Where SHIPMASTER and the Admiral went, I'm not sure yet, but they do survive the collapse.

Watch Biohazard 4D Executer. Beyond mutation to rival the G-Virus, the Executer or Cameron Virus allows the person to body hop, transfer their consciousness, shapeshift to blend in, and immortality, if in a rather twisted way. Think John Carpenter's The Thing from the 1982 remake. There's a reason immortality seeking Spencer had Cameron working on it in my universe, a precursor to the Immortality Virus and Alex Wesker's consciousness transfer research. And it is a virus that will mutate in the future, each infected entity becoming it's own separate thing, separate of Cameron, who will lose control at the Antarctic DEN facility in a story I would set after Code Veronica and before 4. HUNK, Rebecca, Lady Spencer and Alpha Team vs The Thing (Doctor Cameron and her offshoots).

bakaultima: Much appreciated, friend lol. For starters I would throw out that Netflix show and start from scratch. Same with that new Resident Evil movie that's being made, where the idiot director messed up the cast and is trying to cram Resident Evil 1 and 2 into a single movie like a fool. One movie per game is the only sane way to adapt these things. Take your time with them. They have all this money and resources to make movies, but they screw it up on such a basic level. Hollywood idiots and scumbags for you, greedy, dumb bastards who don't understand basic storytelling. Much less casting.

LyKaiosK: HUNK: Anti Registration, Colonel Vladimir: Pro Registration lol.

You will, if I get around to a Code Veronica sequel. I liked including the Undertaker Commander, he sort of grew as I considered him. I enjoy the challenge of a nameless, faceless character with little personality, being able to expand on them. Figure them out. And I believe I've figured out the Commander.

Lol funny, though there are a couple actual pictures of Carla in the game, one on her own and one of her with Simmons. I took that look and made her younger, given the year, a striking, attractive woman. Already a beauty before turning into Ada's doppelganger. Simmons was just an obsessive idiot who didn't know what he already had, a genius super model scientist who loved him for him, for some ungodly reason, and was willing to do heinous experiments just to make him happy. But supervillains tend to be very stupid in particular aspects that bring about their downfall, short sighted. Create their own undoing. In Carla's case, Simmons creates the most dangerous supervillain of the Resident Evil universe, a ticking time bomb, something even Spencer, Marcus, Birkin and Wesker couldn't. Good job, Simmons. You deserve to be jealous of a thoroughly confused GHOST, as you soon will be xD.

Arkham Knight: I enjoyed it as well, fleshing out and humanizing characters who had none, especially the villains who, despite me loving them, are mostly generic cardboard cutout villains in the games. I like giving them personalities, nuances and humanity, while keeping them villains of course. This is a corporation of awful and decent people working together, shoulder to shoulder. There are going to be social dynamics and interactions, humanity. That was indeed 1998 Alex Wesker, still working for the U.I.D. HUNK doesn't know she is a Wesker, but we certainly do.

Good question. I've found it is easier now that I've figured out my writing style to write original material, beyond the adaptation. While adapting existing settings and materials, trying to recreate it all faithfully, the visuals and world, I would go overboard with descriptions and such, simply read my older chapters written years ago to see that. I was obsessed with recreating it so people saw what I saw in my head. Whereas I gradually learned to ease up, as well as when it came to writing original material, to be less descriptive... the 'less is more' approach. Also allows me to actually get shit done xD so I prefer it. I'll never write another story this length again, now that I've learned the value of being concise. I still try to be descriptive, flesh out the world and characters, but to a more sane degree. You don't need to imagine the surroundings of a scene the way I do. Better you see it in your head your own way.

LadyAmaltheia: Thank you kindly, that was very much my motivation to write this story. To write the first definitive HUNK story, since no other writers had, and Capcom will never do HUNK the justice he deserves. I wanted to take a shot at attempting it, a challenge, delving into a mystery man's mind to see what made him tick, develop him... I seem to have succeeded more than failed, at least. He's a complicated man, with his own views and takes on things from his experiences, troubled, has good and bad in him, things he wrestles with. I wanted to make him fully dimensional, so people understand him, whether they sympathize with him or not. And the story grew in the telling, the world and characters, I had a lot of material to work with on the Resident Evil wiki. Ended up becoming an adaptation of Resident Evil 3, a HUNK origin story and a partial reboot, with different things to it than were in the original RE 3, along with an expansion on the universe. A strange hodgepodge that seems to have worked out. I'm very glad you are enjoying it, and hope you continue to.

Thank you all for the reviews, as ever. Now, just what some of you may have been waiting for:

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October 5th, 1998, 8:26 AM

Skies Over Loire Village, Loire Valley, France.

"No place like home, eh Mr Death? One of em', at least."

NIGHTHAWK's grizzled, amused voice spoke up then from the cabin with a laugh as he steered them onward to the rendezvous point. The U.S.S. Agent did not reply to the veteran pilot... merely looked out over the passing trees, roads and buildings... listening to the rumble of the Black Hawk's engines and swishing rotors over it all. The rain pelting against the windows and the metal of the chopper. The Black Hawk cut through the heavy rain of the darkened, early morning skies, bound for its destination. How many times had he traveled to the Paris Facility and to the Leviathan this way? Certainly more than he had taken a normal plane. One mission after another, back and forth, in one country or another... returning to or from yet another of the many homes of his. They had passed into Loire not long before, all the sights returning below. Now... a sight more familiar to him than even the Eiffel Tower came into view from the open side door, just past the door gunner. The various buildings and small homes along the way. Loire Village. Population of over twelve hundred. A secluded section of the valley... which suited the aristocrats of the Henri Family who had owned its lands for a number of centuries. Especially come their involvement with Umbrella and the late Comte Henri's construction of the underground facility beneath the estate. As it was everywhere else Umbrella operated, the local authority and government officials bribed to overlook their presence in the airspace, along with the Leviathan's presence in the Bay of Barclay... or the English Channel now and again. The finest Château de Loire in the region, overlooking the village, the castle's impressive vineyard visible as well. He thought about how it looked in the summer, in full bloom, between the vineyards, great gardens and vast greenery of the land... how scarcely rivaled it was.

The French prided themselves on their chateau's and vineyards, their wines... especially the aristocrats. The Henri Family was no exception. Just now, however, in the rain and storm, getting closer to winter, the grounds looked dour and foreboding, instead of lush and inviting. His eyes drifted on from the estate and lands, and down to the surface level security base of the Loire Facility, the landing zone far below them, its hangars for other helicopters visible, though not what drew in most of his attention. Rather, it was the many people gathered around upon it. From up here, they were all ants down there... a crowd of them waiting for him. No... waiting for his deadly cargo. U.S.S. teams from the Paris Facility clad in soaked dark uniforms, body armor and hats, brandishing modified AK-47's with red laser sights flashing. Dozens of them. Manned guard towers with shining spotlights all around the landing zone. Fully equipped security guards out patrolling the area along with barking German Shepherds. The facility's familiar head of security among them, issuing commands to his subordinates. Along with military jeeps, Humvees, armored personnel carriers and troop trucks, scientists all in white, in scrubs and full hazmat gear... and her, of course. Her most of all.

He glimpsed her from high above, standing alone before a long, sleek black limousine on the far northern end of the landing zone, concealed from the rain and watching from beneath a large, fancy, vibrantly hued red and white umbrella. She always had one with her... an umbrella for rain or snow, a parasol for summer or the tropics... an accessory, like the many other accessories she insisted on owning. Peering upwards, waiting for him... standing exactly where she had been when he had departed with Alpha Team on NIGHTHAWK's Chinook a lifetime ago. As though she hadn't moved an inch in the weeks since.

Slowly he looked away from all those waiting for him to make his delivery... another tiring spotlight of attention, as it had been upon his return to the Leviathan. He would have to deal with it all soon enough again. The medical deck of the Leviathan was looking even more welcoming now. Unlike the arrival, they had managed to depart the Leviathan with little trouble or ceremony... no giant crowds to see his departure, in the early morning hours... though those out on the flight deck had observed, and some had said some parting words. SENTINEL had been there with his men to see them off, and make sure there were no further altercations between the factions. The next stops for the ship were the Caucasus Facility, the Antarctic DEN Facility, Sheena Island and lastly Rockfort Island. Fortunately HUNK got to depart the ship before the Colonel as well. And thankfully the giant bastard had not been out there either... though some of his mercenaries had been. Some sneering Elites laughing among themselves, mocking him, undoubtedly. Monitor Torihata had been present, lurking behind them, waving in HUNK's direction as he left, unseen to the other U.B.C.S. personnel... that strange lingering smile evident. HUNK had merely shrugged it off, focusing elsewhere, in spite of the unease the Monitor's odd behavior was forming in him. It wasn't his problem... he had enough of them to deal with. He had caught sight of the solitary SHIPMASTER watching his departure from the observation deck, raising his omnipresent cigar in HUNK's direction as though saluting him, along with a slight nod, and receiving the gesture in kind. It had been a welcome four days, being back aboard the ship, getting back into the grind of things. Reacquainting himself to his world.

Part of him wanted to remain there... head out to Rockfort Island, perhaps. Return there. His truest home. Enjoy the boat ride there... get that drink the Captain had promised him, and recount his experiences in Raccoon City to the man. Throw the sample in the ocean the moment he reached the beaches of Rockfort Island, and never think about the G-Virus, NEST or the Birkins again. The other part wanted to be exactly where he sat now, and to get his mission over with. Make sure it all hadn't been in vain... the loss of his team. That the mission at least, what they had died for... was not a failure. It had to end sometime... then he could put it all behind him. And reacquainting himself with his world of Umbrella again would not be complete... until he surmounted this obstacle here in France as well. He looked back around the cabin of the Black Hawk... to the other heavily armed and armored U.S.S. Agents. NULL and her team again... she had volunteered to see him to the delivery point, oversee the exchange. There were few others he trusted with such an endeavor now, with Alpha Team gone. Nikolai sat between two of the agents, shackled and gagged, with a black velvet cloth bag over his head. Breathing slowly through the material. The sight of it was welcome and fitting. The medical staff had done good work on him... as the Paris Facility would as well. And the prison for him next. HUNK intended to keep his word, make sure he lived longer than he wished to. He would not be getting off the hook. As inviting as breaking his neck on that rooftop might have been... or perhaps dragging him to the railing and throwing him down into the ravenous horde below... this was a more fitting fate for one such as him. The pain and humiliation, which he was so fond of doling out himself all his career. He would not die before he broke, once and for all. HUNK would see to it personally.

As for HUNK... he hadn't recovered a hundred percent... and he was tired... there had been much to do before setting off, to go over with QUARTERMASTER and Carla... but he could manage better than he had. Doctor Radames always did fine work... had been true to her word. The food, rest and treatment had added up... and had been well worth the wide eyed stares from the young nurses she had insisted on allowing into the lab to visit him, deliver his food. He remembered the gloating, satisfied look she had worn as she had observed it from where she worked on replicating and analyzing Bard's sample. She had been at that for awhile, had tried to teach him the basics... but he found himself lost with genetic engineering and virology rather quickly, beyond a basic understanding. She had teased him about it in her usual flirting fashion with him, but had not been truly mocking. Understood they were of separate worlds, professions. She was every bit the artist in her fields as he was in his own. Umbrella had clearly gotten their money's worth and then some with her. Minus the sociopathy and delusions of grandeur as well... especially welcome, after the Birkins. After most of the other scientists that got involved with the company, really. He couldn't imagine her unleashing a bioweapon on the world, where so many others wouldn't even hesitate to do it just to see the effects in action. She had rare ethics for her profession... and from what HUNK had so far seen at least, had not violated them. Though sometimes flirted with it... which he could understand. The temptation. Similar to many he'd had over the years.

He had gotten what rest he could, back in her laboratory... but the nightmares had come. So vivid and realistic he may as well have been down in NEST again, facing the infected staff, the B.O.W.'s he had released... and the mutated Birkin himself. His memories of the facility's downfall and his backtracking through the madness alone to retrieve the sample. The sewers. T and G-Virus abominations. The croaking, plant-like experiments, feasting on corpses with maws of great teeth, living, prehensile vines breaking and cracking their corpses, constricting about them like snakes. Tearing apart scientists and facility security alike. The deaths of his team, one after another. More than once she had woken him from such dreams... calmed him afterwards, spoke soothingly... and got him some water. Had cared, when he needed her to but had been unable to ask for help. She had understood. And he had been able to trust her with that vulnerability. He looked over to her, sitting comfortably at his side in her long white lab coat and blue blouse and black skirt, looking scarcely bothered by the cold... looking like a supermodel doctor, he recalled Jill saying of her back in the Arklay Mountains. He repressed a thin smile within the gas mask at the memory. He couldn't say she had been far off in the assessment. Carla flashed him a knowing smile he knew well, before looking out again over the land. While HUNK simply breathed slowly through the mask... preparing himself for what was to come. The inevitable. When NIGHTHAWK and FLY GIRL got it into position, they got the clearance from the voice from the facility's radio control tower, the green light to land. The Black Hawk at last began its steady descent down towards the landing pad... everything that was small outside the helicopter growing larger, the world around them rising up and enveloping him. Swallowing them, like the world of the Leviathan.

It was time to get back to work. And finish it once and for all. Before what came next could happen. Finally he'd made it back... after what felt like a lifetime. From the cockpit of the Black Hawk, his friend's familiar voice called back to them.

"This is our stop, people! Thank you for riding NIGHTHAWK Air! Better late than never! We get you there!"

"Thank you, NIGHTHAWK. FLY GIRL. For everything."

"I'd say you owed me one, but I didn't get to pull your boots out of the fire. This time."

"Maybe next time."

"Good luck, HUNK", FLY GIRL added from the co pilot seat, smiling at him from the mirror overhead. "You're gonna need it."

"Don't I know it."

"Out of the frying pan, into the fire.", NIGHTHAWK's grizzled voice agreed with a bitter laugh. "Until later, Mr Death."

"Sooner than you think, NIGHTHAWK."

The Black Hawk's wheels touched down in the thick puddles at last, pressing into the soaked landing pad. Rising from his seat, he adjusted Nikolai's laptop case strapped securely across his back. Doctor Radames rose up as well, looking concerned, like she wanted to start forward and help him out of the chopper... but paused, thinking better of it... understanding. He silently appreciated her intent... that she understood he could not afford to look weak. Image politics. As it had been on the flight deck of the Leviathan. HUNK turned from her, the first one to climb out of the Black Hawk, his boots touching the concrete, splashing through the puddles. Ignoring the ache that shot through his leg as he did so. It would be awhile before it healed entirely, but it didn't burn as much as it had before. Within moments, his entire form was soaked again. The droplets bouncing audibly off his damaged helmet. Soaking his remaining intact lens. Moving forward, away from the door, he kept his limp under control in front of so many watchful eyes... and when he was the right distance, he stopped. Hearing the boots behind him as the other agents, medical personnel and Doctor Radames joined him out on the concrete. The combat medics led by Carla carried the stretcher holding the shackled, restrained, blinded Monitor down towards the security team's jeeps, Humvees and troop trucks. Escorted by a couple of HUNK's rifle toting agents all the way down there. Reaching it, Doctor Radames transferred Nikolai, signing a medical chart one of the Paris Facility's medical staff held out for her rapidly, speaking to one another, and he was hastily hauled up into the truck out of sight from where he stood. The moment he was, the agents raced back down to the helipad, to HUNK, taking up positions with the others around him and the Black Hawk, securing the perimeter with their modified assault rifles at the ready, red laser sights streaming about. Spotlights and the laser sights on the AK-47's from the guard towers around the landing zone shining their way as well. Doctor Radames and the combat medics made their way back down to the Black Hawk not long afterwards, moving towards the open doorway, the medics retreating back inside, while Carla remained out on the landing zone in the rain, soaked features observing him silently, the concern still writ large on her expression.

When they were all in position, ready, HUNK at last slowly looked back down to the north... towards the slender young woman with the umbrella awaiting him at her limousine. The red woman he had come to know well. She wore a long vivid red designer coat and white scarf, each shifting in the breeze, the coat covered in white buttons... and red heels below her smooth, partially exposed legs where the coat didn't cover. Looking every bit as alluring and perfectly put together, as HUNK did tattered. Here it was... the final walk he had thought wouldn't happen, at points through Operation: NESTWRECKER. The completion of his mission. Discontented though that made him feel in the pit of his stomach. He breathed through the gas mask, and could not delay any longer than he already had. Slowly he began to walk away from the Black Hawk, combat boots tapping on the concrete... moving up half way to meet her, while she walked down to meet him. The long strands of her dirty blonde hair in a wavy bob hairstyle, illuminated in the lights and shifting about on the breeze, framing her attractive, youthful face. Looking younger than she already was. Slightly pale, adorned with makeup... though the makeup didn't cover up the several small moles standing out at her left cheek, beauty marks.

Her name was Christine Anna Henri. She was the Director of both the surface and subterranean Umbrella Paris Facility and the underground Loire Village laboratory. Virologist. A close member within Lord Spencer's Inner Circle, his left hand. Lady of Loire Village, and Comtesse of the great castle perched high on the hills that were her lands. Chateau Henri. Recently turned twenty four years old, and already well ahead of most of her competitors within the company, with even Director Owens of Umbrella HQ envious of her position and power. Unsurpassed in wealth and power compared to the other aristocrats of her country and most of the Board of Directors. A genius level intellect to match her beauty, ruthless ambition, connections, resources and blue blood. Among the elite Umbrella courted, prepared superbly for this life by her father. The clicking of her high heels through the puddles stopped when she came before him. Pursing her red lipstick covered lips, her large, frosty blue eyes settled on his gas mask... even on heels, she had to look up at him. Eyes studying his damaged mask, his eye within it, battered, stained uniform and battle scarred helmet, assessing his condition rapidly and silently for herself... gaze upon him lingering for a few moments. Before her familiar thick yet lovely accented voice was washing over him again. Though cold, clipped and implacable, through the mask she wore.

"You look like death, Special Agent HUNK... and are quite exceedingly late. I am not pleased."

"Yes ma'am. Birkin proved... uncooperative. Better late than never."

"Ridiculous American saying. Not when one lives by a life or death schedule to keep, countless projects and employees to oversee... there ese no difference most times."

"Understood, ma'am. Sorry to keep you waiting. Complicated business."

"Umbrella'a master of understatement, as ever. Do you 'av any idea what I 'av been through over here waiting for you to complete your objective and deliver ze sample?"

"I can imagine, ma'am."

"I should 'ope so.", Director Henri sniffed haughtily, turning up her nose at him, before moving in closer towards him. HUNK suddenly found himself beneath her umbrella with her, and out of the rain as well, the muffled pattering sound falling against the red and white material looming above them. Holding out a pale hand his way, nails lacquered scarlet, the sizable diamond on the golden band of the wedding ring sparkling in the lights around the landing zone. She went on, as coolly as before. Poised. Controlled. "You will make eet up to me on your own time. You 'av wasted enough of my precious time already. Time ese money. I 'av meetings to attend. Reports to file. Where ese the Golgotha sample?"

She was very good at it. The game. The routines. The image politics. Much better than him and always would be. She hadn't just been prepared for her way of life since she was a girl... it came naturally to her as well. He'd known that since he started working for her. But now... just now... he saw the cracks in the facade. Had been around her long enough to notice them. That she would not be able to maintain it, if they made this any longer than it had to be. The will she was exerting to maintain it. He nodded very slightly, understanding, and looking down to one particular pouch on the front of his plate carrier. Flipping it open, he withdrew the titanium sample container within, bringing it out into the spotlight shining upon them. He heard the murmurs of excitement of the formerly hushed scientists among themselves. Caught their longing stares... the anticipation. All but salivating like animals over the bioweapon. Where the many security guards, their leader and his agents behind him were calm and silent, weary even, watchful of the trade off. At last, he nodded his damaged helmet and spoke up again in affirmation.

"Yes, ma'am. I have it. It's all yours."

HUNK peered down at the sample... looking at the clear section... the glowing, purple, destructive contents within. Already knowing he was making a mistake. The wrong choice. Probably the biggest in his entire life... now and going forward. One more of the many he had made to this point. One that many faceless victims and test subjects in the future would despise him for. A decision Jill should rightly hate him for. That the world would. But... under the present circumstances... the only decision. This was him... as little as he liked it. A corporate assassin, kidnapper and thief. This was his world... the only thing he was good for. Good at. And... it was also his only means of survival. There was no justification for it... it simply was. Likely always would be the rest of his life. The morality of it had not bothered him for awhile... now it seemed to. For the time being, he did what he had long done. He repressed it. And then he looked to the frosted over eyes looking between the sample and him. He caught a flicker in them, for just an instant. She was young... but he hoped she understood the sheer magnitude of the weapon he was handing her. Its destructive potential. The responsibility for the Birkin's creation was now hers. Along with the countless test subjects who had been murdered to create it. Finally, he held it out to her in offering. Her hand rose as well, and her pale fingers brushed against his gloved ones purposefully as she accepted the sample. Drew it from his grasp. Holding it close and looking at it again, the violet glow reflecting from her eyes. She looked as though she were going to say something more, for a moment... just for him to hear... but whatever it was, she held it in. Giving away nothing. Maintaining the mask. Standing there before him, together in shared silence for a long moment.

Glancing at him once more, her lips parted for a moment, as though she might give into the temptation to speak. Instead they closed again and she turned on her heels abruptly and withdrew from him without another word, the shield of the umbrella retracted from him, the rain pelting his body armor and uniform again, audibly against his helmet. He watched where he stood as she moved down the landing zone towards the gathered scientists of the Loire Village Facility and the Paris Facility. All their faces hatefully familiar, even if he didn't remember names. The Sixth Laboratory was not among the scientists, at least... a small blessing. For all their sakes. Had they been, HUNK might not resist the temptation to order the guards to force them to their knees in a row along the landing zone. Then go between them... one after another with Matilda and execute them where they cowered and grovelled. The Nemesis Project leader lastly, let Frankl feel the same fear he had unleashed. Watch their blood flow into the rainy puddles all over the landing zone. Let all the other scientists watch, and take note to toe the line, going forward. Send them a message. It was a welcome, ideal thought... but not a presently realistic one. At any rate, he preferred having time to breath, to think, to plan his next move. To complete his mission, before dealing with them. Their time would come. Even if the punishment might not be enough. At once the assorted scientists rushed down to meet her... all of them jabbering among themselves and to her in French. He remained where he was, listening to every word. Understanding each word. The child-like excitement over the bioweapon of the grown men and women nearly made his stomach turn. Not giving a shit about where it had come from and what it had taken to get it to them. What it had taken to create it. Only the endless possibilities for it.

He glanced back to Carla by the chopper, looking perturbed as well by the scene unfolding, hands absently toying with one another nervously. Then back to the scientists who didn't seem to share his unease, shaking one another's hands and already celebrating, right there on the landing zone. How many times now had he seen men and women like them? Men and women like Marcus and Spencer. Sharing their mad pursuit of power and knowledge. Celebrating their viruses. The murders they were responsible for, on purpose or inadvertently. The test subjects. The orphanages. The facilities. The orders men like himself carried out for them. They disgusted him nearly as much as he revolted himself, going along with as much as he did. Tolerating it. Serving them. He bitterly regretted giving it to them already... wished he had lost it in the train crash. That Jill had destroyed it when she had the chance in that library. That he had lost it in the Circular River when he had fallen off that suspension bridge.

But what was done was done.

HUNK looked back to NIGHTHAWK and FLY GIRL, who gave him a thumbs up at the completion of his mission from their window on the Black Hawk. HUNK gave him a thumbs up in return, then turned back and gave NULL a signal, who turned to her agents and made a gesture to them in turn... who at once lowered their weapons, saluted and filed back inside the Black Hawk as one. Moving in an ever orderly fashion. The silently observing NULL and Doctor Radames lingered behind a bit longer than the others after they slipped inside, the team leader looking between HUNK and down to the scientists... before nodding his way very slightly. A nod that was returned. Carla smiled at him and waved, while he rose his gloved hand to her in response, watching as the blonde in the lab coat and blue blouse slipped reluctantly back inside the chopper. NULL was the last one to board the chopper, and slipping inside it after the doctor, she vanished past the door gunner and out of sight... before it began lifting off again. Climbing steadily higher into the darkened storm filled Loire Valley skies and turning back around to the west. Departing Loire Village to return to the Leviathan waiting just off the coast. Again part of him wished he were leaving with them... but they would see one another again soon enough. There was always another mission. Little down time between them. Especially so now, he was certain, once he had mended a bit further. The Black Hawk gradually grew distant, along with the sound of the engine and swishing rotors... and before long it was gone from his sight, and he was alone again. He turned his back on them all, watched the Director speaking with the scientists... issuing orders... a couple of the hazmat suited men putting the sample in an extra secure container... taking it away to a well defended transport truck, numerous security officers down there in full hazmat gear themselves. He was all but forgotten now, where he stood alone at the center of the landing zone, by the scientists... all they saw was their bioweapon and future plans with it. He was in that moment exactly what SHIPMASTER had called him back aboard the Leviathan, skilled or not. A glorified delivery boy. As he had been from the start, really. Hired help doing the heavy lifting for the ungrateful. Getting his hands dirty, so blue bloods and mad scientists could keep doing what they did best. Once he had fulfilled his purpose, he was yesterday's news. Until they needed him for the next desire of theirs, of course.

Some things never changed.

His lips twisted bitterly beneath the mask. Unable to resist a cold, sharp laugh. Shaking his helmeted head slowly and tiredly.

It was just as well... it felt better to have fewer eyes on him again. He knew it wouldn't last upon his return to the Paris Facility. He would enjoy the feeling of anonymity while it lasted. Though for now, before he could savor some solitude, there was another matter to attend to. Speaking to those who mattered to him a hell of a lot more than some depraved scientists. His subordinates and peers, namely.

With a low breath through the mask, he looked across the landing zone's north west side towards the Paris Facility's familiar head of security and his men, busily securing Nikolai into the truck, troops keeping their weapons trained on him. Doctors attending to him. HUNK left the landing zone at last, marching down towards the security team, boots tapping on the concrete and splashing through the puddles. Ignoring the continued aching in his leg, continuing to will himself not to limp. Passing beneath the various spotlights along the way, and the watchful gaze of the men in the guard towers. Upon reaching the guards gathered near the troop truck, the average height, muscular, dark haired head of security turned around to face him, mustached, tan toned features looking back at his gas mask. A native of Rockfort Island, one of the many there who had joined up with the U.S.S. when Commander Ashford began recruiting there, the man was the same age as HUNK, as well as a professional to the bone and a credit to his uniform. Carried out numerous successful operations. Had more than earned his position as head of the Paris Facility's security... the 3rd Security Unit or 3rd Squad, and HUNK had gladly supported him, put his name forward as a recommendation. Put in a quiet, good word with the Director, one evening at her estate. Like the Director, the last time he had seen the man was weeks ago, on this very landing zone with his troops. Standing not far from where he had been as the Chinook had taken off with Alpha Team. His dark eyes were slightly alarmed at HUNK's appearance and state up close, but quickly sympathetic. The man wore a holstered polished chrome Desert Eagle at his hip, and the same dark uniform and body armor as his men, minus the hat, hair soaked through by the storm. A number of the other U.S.S. men turned around as well as he approached, looking even more startled at the sight of him than their leader was. Murmuring among themselves... but he payed them little attention. The moment HUNK reached their leader's position, he nodded, greeting him with a faint smile as HUNK spoke to him first.

"Agent Raval. Good to see you again."

"Agent HUNK. You as well, sir. I feared the worst when I got word that it all went to hell at NEST... we all did. Look like you've been in the shit."

"You could say that. I'm fine. He's not."

"Heh... so I've noticed.", The other agent returned with a low, dry chuckle under his breath. Eyes glancing between the troop truck holding the Supervisor and back towards HUNK. "Bet he's rethinking his career, about now. If you didn't scramble his brains too much."

"Nikolai going to be a problem?"

"He and his kind always are... but a crippled Monitor is nothing my men can't keep under lock and key. Besides, you did a hell of a number on him already. Just looked at Doc Radames medical report. Damn. Can't see him getting out of bed anytime soon. We'll hold him for as long as it takes to transfer him."

"Good. I'll be by later to check in on him."

"I'm sure he'll love that. The Grim Reaper paying him a hospital and prison bedside visit. Hell of a sight to wake up to."

"He'll probably have company there. Not the only person who chose ambition over loyalty, lately."

"No doubt. Nothing but traitors rearing their head, throughout this thing. I heard about Captain Rodriquez too. Damn shame. Feel more sorry for his family, though. Hope a taste of freedom was worth their lives to that selfish prick. Knew what he was getting into from the start... knew the price. You bring him along too? Or is he back in the brig of the Leviathan? Colonel Vladmir doing his gulag thing, with the knife and electroshock therapy?"

"Not yet. His day will come, though. And sooner than he'd like. U.I.D. will see to that. As will I."

"Poor dumb bastard is already dead, wherever he's celebrating. Just doesn't realize it yet. Death has his eyes on him."

Raval laughed a bit grimly at that, and HUNK merely nodded. Removing the doomed Captain from his mind and moving on. He looked back to the troop truck, watching Nikolai surrounded by rifle toting agents, slumped back on his stretcher, breathing steadily as doctors from the facility oversaw him. He had recovered some aboard the Leviathan, regained consciousness... but still had much further to go than HUNK did, obviously. Doctor Radames had given him a complete chart and analysis of his own injuries as well as Nikolai's, contrasting their conditions. It had drawn a smile upon his face, with how much further ahead he had come out of Raccoon City. Physically, at least. Likely the Monitor would never fully recover... especially given his next destination, when the transfer came along, was approved by Director Henri. He felt Raval's continued stare... returning his eyes to the man... and he looked as though he wanted to say something but was uncertain. HUNK knew that look well in others, by now. So many questions and matters they wanted to speak to him of... but usually too hesitant or afraid to approach whatever it was. Intimidated. Normally he would not have asked Raval to speak... but there was nothing normal about everything, of late. Including him. He chose another way, this time. At last he reluctantly spoke up to the man again, granting him permission.

"Was there anything else on your mind, Agent Raval? Speak freely."

"Sir... I'm sorry about your team. I know you served awhile with most of them. It might have been a 'success'... but Operation: NESTWRECKER was a goddamn waste of good agents."

"Thank you. Yes... it was. The responsibility lies with me. The blame is squarely upon Birkin and his wife. They met with their own just fate, at least. Though took a hundred thousand people with them in the process."

"At least the bastard took those other sick scientist fucks at NEST with him. If even half the stories about the experiments they were cooking up down there were true..."

"Well over half of them were. Birkin unleashed his experiments on his own facility. Saw it with my own eyes. Saw them."

"I won't ask. Probably some real creepy shit. Don't need any more nightmares. Just a shame this sorry looking bunch of Frankenstein's weren't down in NEST during the outbreak. Don't expect any gratitude or apologies from them for your fallen men. The price payed to gain the G-Virus."

"Never expected any. They got what they wanted. All that matters to them. No rookie. Know how it works. Have since my first job."

"Yeah. Ignore those champagne sipping bureaucrats, aristocrats and scientists down there and back at the facility.", Agent Raval shot a derisive look down towards them, where they still stood near the end of the landing zone celebrating. He folded his broad arms over his equally muscled chest and spat spitefully upon the rain soaked concrete, slowly shaking his head with displeasure. Openly sharing HUNK's silent assessment of their kind... always one for blunt honesty, a trait of his HUNK had long respected... looking back to HUNK. "They aren't worth the effort. Don't know what it takes to do what we do... to keep their warped business going. Those laboratory slaughter houses. Can't be bothered to give a shit by how it went down. The scale of it."

"Story of Umbrella Security Service."

"You know it best. All about the profits. Probably don't care what just happened to Raccoon City either. It's far enough away not to."

"They'll care sooner than they think. Won't be able to afford not to. With what's coming."

"Don't doubt it. Gonna be hell to pay. Another war."

"Anything been happening around the Paris Facility while I was gone?"

"Nothing even near as exciting as what you've been through. Mostly just waiting for word about you and the Leviathan... watching the news as well. Not exactly in much of a high position to be hearing much. Heard lots of shouting coming from the Director's office though, arguing on the phone. No surprise there. Heard about that giant ass worm you slew back in Raccoon City. A mean, mutated son of a bitch... could swallow a man whole. I shudder at the thought. Better it crossed your path than mine."

"Everyone seems to have an opinion on it, by now. Or will."

"Haven't seen the satellite footage yet, but intend to when I get the chance. Access. Might even put on some popcorn."

"Sure you'll be entertained. Though not nearly as much as Lord Spencer undoubtedly was when the nuke dropped."

"Blue bloods. Real sickos. Not sure how you've managed around them, so often. As for whats going on here... not sure if you heard aboard the Leviathan, but Agent LesProux was selected by U.S.S. Command to head up the new Delta Team. She chose her team and they shipped out on a mission while you were in Raccoon City. Top secret."

"LUPO? No... wasn't aware of that. They've chosen well. But then, they usually do. Likely she has as well."

"Got that right. VECTOR, SPECTRE, BERTHA, BELTWAY and FOUR EYES. Keeping her Wolfpack small... but comprised of the best. An array of specialists."

"Wise policy. The sort I've come to expect of her. Usually."

"She's come a long way."

"Apart from her continued insistence on unique uniforms, body armor and masks for her teams. Instead of standard issue like the rest of us. Intend to have some words with her about that, the next time I see her."

"Heh. Yeah. Has her moments. Remember when she joined up and wanted the code name DEN MOTHER? Boy was she disappointed when she found out. Had to settle for the next best thing."

"Yes.", HUNK returned simply, with the barest trace of a smirk concealed within the gas mask at the memory. The exchange LesProux had had with Lady Spencer over it. He'd had a good laugh about that with Bella when he had found out. One of the fond memories of her that he trusted was genuine. "I remember."

"Scary how quickly time passes. Feels like yesterday. Anyways. Would you like to hitch a ride with us back to the Paris Facility, sir? Drinks are on me when we get there. Can tell you more about each member of the team she picked when we get there, think you'll approve of their backgrounds, skills. You already know of VECTOR of course, approved of him back on the island, I recall."

"I did. Less familiar with the other four. I would appreciate that, Agent Raval. Sooner I get back there the better. Have loose ends to tie up."

"That you do, Special Agent HUNK. Starting with moi."

Of course. Right on cue.

The moment her deeply accented voice spoke behind them, HUNK and Raval turned back around to face her. Raval a bit visibly startled and sheepish, uncertain how long she had been listening in, perhaps. He unfolded his arm and stood up straighter, at attention, as their superior returned. The blonde blue blood stood beneath her red and white umbrella not far from them... her hair, coat and scarf shifting in the breeze, one hand down within her coat pocket. The scientists she had been speaking with before were departing by now, the truck containing the G-Virus and hazmat security passing by out on the road, an array of security vehicles in front of and behind it in a convoy. Preparing to transfer the employees and virus back to the Paris Facility. He looked away from the truck as it passed, meeting the blonde's familiar frosty gaze again as she went on haughtily.

"I do not recall giving you my permission to depart. I am not finished with you.", The Director informed him coolly, arching a perfectly manicured eyebrow between him and Raval. "You will travel back to the Paris Facility with me, and we will 'av words about your tardiness. Understood?"

"Yes ma'am. At once."

"As for you... you and your men may take the prisoner and leave, Raval. You are not required any further. Least of all for idle chatting with my agent, wasting his time with gossip."

"Yes, Director. My apologies. We're headed out now."

"You do that."

On that cool note she rose her nose in the air and turned abruptly on her heel, moving back down through the rain towards the limousine. The two agents watched her familiar, dark uniformed valet standing by the sleek limousine open the door to the backseat for her when she reached it, taking her umbrella for her and closing it back up, holding it down at his side. In a flash, her red form vanished within the vehicle, behind the tinted bulletproof glass and reinforced steel. A limousine worthy of a President riding around in. The valet remained where he was holding the open door, looking back down at HUNK with a familiar weary expression and apologetic shrug, who nodded back at him. It was a look HUNK was used to from her staff, most of whom seemed to like him more than her... for whatever reason. Raval at his side released a low whistle and a laugh.

"Oof. Better you than me, sir. If you don't mind my saying. Princess Christine has had a stick up her ass since this whole thing started. Well... a long time before then. Just more noticeable than usual." The security team leader muttered, shaking his head with irritation. Looking between the limousine and HUNK with a wry, sympathetic smile. "We'll take a rain check if you want. That drink offer stands. You're gonna need it by the time she's through with you."

"Imagine I will. Tough job, but someone has to do it."

"Who better? Survived her this long. Why they give you the suicide missions, no doubt."

"Something like that."

"What you've been through? A good drink is the least I can provide. Need someone in your corner. You did a good job out there, sir. Beat the odds. Don't seem to need much luck... but I wish it to you all the same."

"Appreciated, Agent Raval. See you at the facility."

On that final note, Umbrella Security Service Special Agent Rodrigo Juan Raval held out a bare, roughened hand and HUNK glanced at it a moment... then took it with his gloved one, shaking it firmly, before retracting. The head of security turned on his boot and moved back down to the prisoner transport truck, calling his men of the 3rd Squad to rally up and prepare to move out. Some of the security officers looked back at HUNK as they carried out their orders... and finally, as they all piled into the truck and jeeps, they began to pull away from the landing zone. Like the others. Many of them, at least, the Director's Loire Facility security personnel remained at their guard towers and the perimeter of the landing zone, manning the steel, automatic gates and chain link fencing topped by razor wire as well. Armored personnel carriers and Humvees, their guns manned as well. She had security forces like them within the Loire Facility beneath her estate and around her surrounding lands... men and guard dogs patrolling the vicinity... the castle able to become a fortress of security with one call from her or himself. A private army at her command between here and the Paris Facility. Necessary, with the number of important projects being undertaken at both facilities... to say nothing of all the enemies she had made in so short a time span, with her rise within Umbrella. Her global dealings. Rival companies. He could only be around to protect her for so long, given how often missions had him away from France, she required security in the meantime. HUNK turned away from them and made his way back through the rain and towards the limousine, boots tapping on the soaked concrete... the familiar valet remaining exactly where he was, still and silent as a statue. Reaching the uniformed older man, the rain pelting against his helmet and the valet's hat, HUNK looked between him, and down within the vehicle. There the red woman sat awaiting him as though she sat on a throne, those cold eyes looking up at him where he was in the doorway. Her equally frosty voice washing over him once more, before he could open his mouth to address the driver.

"Well? Eenside, Special Agent HUNK. Now. Do not keep a lady waiting any longer than you 'av."

"Yes ma'am."

HUNK removed Nikolai's laptop case strapped across his back carefully, putting it under one arm. The valet, Francoise, HUNK remembered his name, she had so much staff at the chateau it was easy to forget, patted the back of his armored shoulder sympathetically as he lowered himself down and inside, setting the laptop on the floorboard. He glanced back up at the sympathetic driver and nodded appreciatively at the gesture. As he settled back in the seat, the door closed behind him once he was within... the sound of the rain pattering against the vehicle growing muffled and distant... and the valet went back around to the drivers seat, starting it up. Engine rumbling as he pulled away from the landing zone and turned them around on the road to the underground Umbrella owned transit line, following after the escort security vehicles, with other ones tailing them. The Director, from her position in the middle seat, tapped the button... and the back, tinted window rose up in front of them, cutting off the view and sounds of them from her driver. The moment she had, she leaned back into her seat with an audible breath, looking over to him where he sat quietly by the window. His eyes left the dark tinted passing sights outside, returning to hers... and a familiar red lipped smile finally broke through her pale, icy face. Exposing her brilliant teeth, the slight gap between her two front ones... all of a sudden more a cute, mischievous school girl than the ruthless, cold blooded Umbrella executive she was outside. Breaking the silence as well. Teasingly repeating some of his familiar words to her as they had sat in this very limousine together, a lifetime ago, before his departure to NEST.

"Eet's ok. I'll be back before you even know I'm gone, Comtesse. Promise."

"Yeah. I know what I promised. Intended to keep it at the time. Give me a break, Princess."

"Don't I always? I 'av always been too lenient with your impertinence. The one thing I can never abide in others.", Christine sighed heavily, dramatically, shaking her head as she slid across the seat closer to lean against him. Laughing faintly under her breath though. Discarding the act altogether again. "Ugh. There now. Finally, I can take off ze bitchy mask. If only I could take it off as easily as zat gas mask."

"Grows on a person. You wear it well. Raval and your driver seem convinced. Your staff. Most people are."

"Hmmph. Careful with ze flattery there, Casanova. You nearly made eet slip... just seeing you on zat landing zone again. This state you are een. You 'av any idea ze effect you 'av on us poor, 'apless ladies?"

"Have an inkling, by now. I'm not Nikolai. Still have a pair of functional eyes."

"Ha! No false modesty, and no arrogant boasting. Simple self awareness. I always liked that about you. My mask ese off... now eet ese your turn."

HUNK looked back at her expectant face, and he nodded the battle scarred helmet, having been ready for this. His hands rose to the straps on the back of his head, grasping on to them. Before he could undo them, she slid over closer to him on the seat, shaking her head. Hair shifting about as she drew near, leaning in close to his mask.

"Non... I want to do eet. I 'av been looking forward to zis moment..."

He paused for a moment. It was not a command... but her eyes implored him... so he relented. His hands slowly lowered again, while her own rose. One went to the strap of his helmet, unfastening it, slowly and carefully removing it, setting it off to the side. Then she wrapped both arms around his neck to reach for the straps on the gas mask, undoing them steadily, looking back at him and humming happily throughout. Finally, she undid the straps and removed the mask carefully, the air moving over his sore, bruised, partially swollen face... and she dropped it down to the side inside his helmet. Before leaning forward again. Her large blue eyes looked back at him... the tip of her nose pressing against his own. Her eyes not seeming to see all the bruises, stitches, mending cuts, and the bump on the side of his head. Her low intimate whisper murmuring to him.

"There you are..."

"So I am. Least I think it's me. Still not entirely sure if I escaped that city or not... or if I'm still unconscious in that sewer. Down in NEST, dreaming..."

"Hmm. There ese only one way to find out for certain if eet is really you, zen..."

Leaning in, she kissed him at long last, slowly and intimately, her arms enveloping him and holding him close. Wrapping around his neck tighter. The heat and warmth of her kisses gradually deepening... he didn't respond at first... but gradually found himself unable to resist returning them. Heart beating quicker. He thought of Jill... the brunette's beautiful rain and tear streaked face as they had stood in that courtyard... her blue eyes instead of the Director's, and returned everything in kind. Savoring the affection and warmth of the reunion, her taste... what she gave to him. Arousal he felt some shame to feel. Knowing he was indulging an old, bad habit... despite everything that had changed. Had happened. But it felt good... being wanted. Needed. Missed. Desired. To have a purpose. This young woman, such as she was, had wanted him for many years. Looked out for him, in her own way. She wasn't Jill... but part of him had missed her. The comfortable familiarity. And the embrace made Raccoon City, Birkin, NEST, Alpha Team, the Nemesis and Nikolai seem further away. Lost in the red world she gave to him without the mask. But only for that moment. He savored the bliss of ignorance while it lasted, pretending he was still the man who had left her to go to Raccoon City and carry out her bidding. Instead of the stranger who had returned. When her lips finally retracted, she gave him a few more light, affectionate kisses... nuzzled his face... one hand settling on his cheek and rubbing against the facial hair soothingly.

"Mmm... it's you alright. My scruffy American hunk. Your lips do not lie. You know... I like ze new look. Ze beard, not ze injuries, of course..."

"Of course. Enjoy it while you can, your highness. Shaving when I get back to the barracks."

"Non! Such a tragedy. I shall have to content myself with bearded kisses while I can. Though I received a long medical report from your Doctor Radames... perhaps I should thank her zat you still have a face to kiss. "

"Yes, you should. I owe her a great deal."

"And you owe me as well, for the tardiness, and zat vaccination. I assume you were a good boy and took it?"

"Yes. Didn't want you taking off the good doctor's head."

"Nor did I wish to have to. Good. Ze last thing I needed was you turning into some 'ideous shambling zombie..."

"Infected."

"Tu dis tomate, je dis tomate, mon amour."

"So I've heard. Guess I'm not the only one with stupid sayings."

Christine's smirk deepened as she looked back at him a moment, then shrugged unapologetically, waved her hand dismissively at his automatic correction and observation. Nuzzling and kissing him again playfully, tenderly, she released a girlish, feminine giggle and held him tight... leaning her head forward, pressing it gently against his. Breathing slowly and closing her eyes. His own arms gradually responded... rose and held her right back... enjoying something as simple as the closeness between them. But he soon felt it, through her body. Trembling. Shaking. And he heard the muffled sobs. The grief of the long days finally reaching her... a release. Tears had begun to run from her large eyes... trailing down and staining her cheeks, her trembling lips. Makeup running slightly. Removing his gloves and setting them aside in the helmet with the mask, one of his hands rose to her face... gently brushing her tears away, to little avail. It was best for her to let it out, after holding it back as long as she had. Once she had, it was as if she had never been upset in the first place.

Still, he hadn't seen her this upset since Princess Diana's intoxicated driver took a wrong turn. The two blue bloods having been friends at upper class parties HUNK had been dragged along to in the function of her primary bodyguard, of course. She had always been dressed in the finest gowns and jewelry, hair done up in a coiffure, like a royal herself. Still did that. Never skipped an opportunity to present herself accordingly. In public and behind closed doors with him. At one of the later parties not too long before her death, he had met some wealthy Egyptian film maker she had been fucking. A son of a billionaire, who had died in the crash with her, but HUNK couldn't be bothered to remember his name, merely shook his hand and nodded stiffly. More importantly he had also met and spoken with her German-British bodyguard... a professional named Rees-Jones... it was fortunate he'd survived the crash, at least. Unlike the driver he had seemed a capable sort, worthy of respect, and what had happened had been out of his control. He had quietly paid the man a visit while he had been recovering in his hospital bed... though hadn't stayed for long. Leery of the eyes of the press being around. And the unfortunate man had been in no condition to speak anyways. It was just as well... HUNK hadn't known what the hell to say.

Comtesse Henri had seemed to get along much better with the Princess than she had with the Princess's elder cousin. Looked to her like she was an older sister. Then again, the Comtesse had looked to Bella much the same way... just not an elder sister she liked. One she had envied... aspired to be like. To HUNK, the Princess and Comtesse chatting and laughing together had each been pale imitations of the golden haired, unrivaled Lady Spencer, trying to replicate her. Fooling most... but not him. Regardless of how much more the media covered them than her. Had she been present, royal title or not, all eyes in that ballroom would not have been on Diana. The Crown Prince of Wales had been a weak, whipped man and a fool though, like Lord Robert was with Bella. Unable to even handle Diana, had even allowed her omit 'to honor and obey' from her wedding vows, he recalled. Allowed himself and his family to be disrespected, along with tradition, instead of being a man and putting his foot down. And had fucked around with Parker-Bowles on the side, while Diana was living it up with Captain Hewitt. Likely the real father of at least her youngest heir... and a man he sometimes found himself feeling sympathy towards. Understanding well the position he was in. Though red hair also ran in the Spencer Family, as some of Lord Spencer's family portraits had demonstrated, so one couldn't be sure. Bella had gotten her mother's hair. Regardless, the Prince would have been even more unfit for Bella, if Lord Spencer had allowed the marriage to happen. She would have walked all over him. Blue bloods and their affairs... seemed to be part of the lifestyle. One he had found himself entangled in. Twice. He had never met any of them he was certain genuinely loved one another. It was all dishonest political theater for the public... matches made for power reasons, alliances, dynasties, as it always had been through history, not for something meaningful. Another world of lies, like Umbrella. It was little wonder how well the two went hand in hand. He pitied the children of both worlds most of all. The former being royal and nobles, often bastards born of affairs, raised to be pawns, or the latter being test subjects of a corporation. Likely Diana's unfortunate sons were going to end up like Charles, their presumed father. Diminished figureheads of a decaying, corrupt monarchy, and controlled by domineering women. Traditional ones or not.

However unpleasant HUNK's world was, he would never dream of trading his life for that of the royals. Nobles. The way he would trade places with the contented Undertaker Commander in an instant. What he had seen of Lady Spencer and Comtesse Henri's hectic lives and responsibilities was inoculation enough.

He had wondered how much the Princess had known about him before that meeting at the party... how close she had been to Bella. If they had shared any family secrets or not and if they involved him. Spoken of their affairs. If she knew who he was to Lady Spencer. The Princess had given little away... had been more interested in the lights and cameras anyways, like the Comtesse. All the vanity of most blue bloods and celebrities. Starlets, like the model and actress promo girl for Umbrella's products whose name continued to escape him. Despite how... vivid... the Comtesse's introduction of her to him had been. The Princess and Comtesse's gossiping and tittering together like school girls, regardless of the age difference between them, had started to become grating. It had suited him just fine though. It had meant fewer eyes watching him, than there would be if he'd chatted with the Princess for long. He had swallowed the temptation to ask to speak to her in private... question her about Bella. Or bring the subject up. Regardless of how tempting it had been. Not merely because it was a sore subject for the Comtesse... but because it wasn't worth the effort. If Bella hadn't seen fit to tell him herself, there was no point in plying her cousin for answers.

The morning of the crash, Louis, the Henri Estate's primary butler, had woken him with a phone call at the barracks in Paris asking him to come up to the Loire Village at once. Had told him what happened, and that his Comtesse had been distraught and refusing to see anyone but him, let anyone into her bedroom. With gritted teeth, hanging up, cursing, HUNK had rolled out of bed, showered, dressed... and marched down the length of the barracks. He remembered the eyes of his subordinates, of Alpha Team, as he had emerged from his quarters and left without a word, and the other employees as he stalked down the corridors of the Paris Facility. Themselves likely already figuring out what 'mission' he was departing for. Laughing and joking among themselves at his expense after he was out of earshot. He remembered the stares upon reaching the underground transit system, and catching a ride to the Loire Village Facility. Hearing the murmurs from the others aboard, themselves talking about the accident... some of the female employees crying and hugging one another. HUNK had merely kept to himself, catching a bit more shut eye during the ride, waking only when one of the conductors had informed him they had reached their destination. Reaching the Henri Estate, HUNK had done his duty. To the quiet relief and gratitude of her staff when he arrived at her door and she let him in to comfort her. She had grieved for quite a long time... but as with all things, she had adapted to the unpleasant loss. As she had to her father, the late Comte Henri, chopping up eight of his servants with an axe and killing himself back in 1993... in a fit of murderous rage and maddened suicide... blowing his own brains out with a shotgun. At least that was the official story. HUNK had some doubts, having spent time in the company of madmen. The Comte had seemed quite sane and stable the few times HUNK had ever seen him... had looked at HUNK with the haughty displeasure of many an aristocrat in the company of some American peasant. Though hadn't said a word about it with Lady Spencer near. HUNK had been no stranger to that.

Whatever the truth behind his death was, HUNK had not dared to ask the Comtesse something so personal, even with the way she felt about him. As she respected him enough not to ask about Lady Spencer. Or maybe was simply afraid to. He had offered her the comfort he could for the loss of her friend, but was no expert on emotions. Dealing with loss. All he had really done in his own case was turn cold and move on. Force himself to. But not everyone was built like him. She was younger, a woman and of noble blood and high status, power and prestige. Entitlement. He considered himself fortunate his contact with the drama of the nobles was relatively limited by all his missions, that kept him abroad. That their reunions together were more about fun and pleasure. Even so... it was more drama than he wished on anyone. It hadn't been that way with Bella, who had worked to avoid drama, stay out of the public eye, and kept much to herself, as the Comtesse did not. It was a blessing and a curse, honesty... as much as withholding the truth or lying was, he supposed. He wasn't sure which he wanted, most of the time. He wanted to believe he wanted the truth, but truth had always been painful. Most of the time he could take it. Other times... well. He chose ignorance. Or had it imposed on him.

When the Comtesse at last recovered enough in his arms to speak again, her heavily accented voice was concerted... shaky. For all her intellect, she had never taken entirely well to speaking English, pronunciations at least. She still did rather good, but there was an evident difference between it and the way in her own tongue she breezed through and dominated any conversation with ease. Overwhelmed others. She spoke now with all the effort she had left. Lowering her guard with him in a way she didn't often elsewhere. Another thing he appreciated about her... something she had even on Lady Spencer, who had never seemed to one hundred percent lower her guard, even when she had been enjoying herself with him. Speaking together in private.

"I thought you were dead so many times... I was terribly afraid. While you were down een NEST... silent for so long, een the sewer. And later. When zay told me about ze Nemesis... when you dropped out of contact again at ze clock tower. I was waiting for every update... sometimes they came quickly... other times forever. And I couldn't do anything about it... all my power and I couldn't help you. Just sit back and wait... and not let it show. I thought...-"

"I know. It's ok... Comtesse... I'm here now.", He heard his low voice interrupt her fears quietly, feeling his hands trailing along the back of her red coat reassuringly. Acting on instinct. Working to sooth her. "I'm fine. I made it. I'm not going anywhere."

"Yes. You 'av been to 'ell and back. Now you are 'ere with me. 'ome. Where you belong. As eet should be."

The Comtesse managed to laugh through the tears... those radiant big blue eyes studying his face again. Very slowly the tears died down a bit, though remained staining her visage, flowing gradually. There was conflict in her gaze... uneasiness, as she tried to find her words, eventually doing so.

"Concentrating 'as not been easy... wearing zat mask. Sifting through red tape with Sir Maxwell. Calls and meetings with ze Inner Circle. Day to day operations. Examining sattellite footage and U.I.D. updates. Arguing with Colonel Vladimir and SHIPMASTER... trying to reach Oswell. Sending zat vaccine. Waiting for you. Not knowing. Ze not knowing was worst of all. It wasn't supposed to take so long. You were supposed to be back 'ere and safely een my arms. Instead a hundred thousand people are dead... a city was destroyed... and the company's future ese threatened. None of it was supposed to happen zat way... and not with you at ground zero."

"Even the best planned missions can be derailed... from unforeseen circumstances. As team leader I bear the responsibility for the outcome. More responsibility than that."

"I blame zat sick bastard Birkin and 'is greed and madness, my love... not you. 'e would 'av reacted ze same way to any other agent. I am glad 'e and 'is wife are finally gone... eet was a mistake keeping them with Umbrella for so long. My father's mistake for allow zem to use our facility as long as he did, before NEST. But it was not worth ze cost. I am... so sorry about your team. Your men."

"I got every other agent on that mission killed. Far more people than them alone. It makes no difference if it was indirectly. Actions have consequences. Mine have been a long time coming."

"You did your best... tried. Your best. Do not be so 'ard on yourself. You've always been too 'ard on yourself."

"Someone has to be. Damn near everyone else is too afraid of me to."

The blonde merely shook her head slowly at his low, bitter words, looked back into his eyes silently, as the world outside flew by the limousine's bulletproof windows, holding him closer. None of it mattered. Just the two of them, in that moment. Not what awaited them, the act they would have to resume putting on, the moment they stepped back outside again. He cared about her... he knew that. Not in the same ways he did about Bella... or Jill... but he cared. It was genuine. She had been good to him... at least by Umbrella standards. And he was glad to see her again, to be able to hold her once more. Share what they did. Even if it wasn't right. The whispers about them didn't matter... any more than the whispers there would be about him and Jill. He felt a conflict within, thinking about them both... the two young women's contrasting and similar images overlapping... a pang of guilt... even as he didn't. The Comtesse was a major part of his Umbrella life... while Jill had been part of his... whoever he was on the battlefield. Someone better. The man she would have helped him find... if he had stayed with her.

But he hadn't. For his own sake as much as hers. Choosing familiarity, safety, over risk and freedom. Choosing a sort of cowardice. And now this was who he was.

He'd had a choice to make... maybe the most difficult of them... but then, how many choices had he ever had? And like handing over the G-Virus... part of him knew it had been the wrong one... even if it had been the logical one. He had not expected this... any of it... when he had set out for Raccoon City. Had not thought to meet Jill... for his life to change... to feel conflict like this again. But here he was. Maybe where he belonged... getting exactly what he had deserved, for his mistakes. Back into his golden cage. Christine was wiping her eyes some more, clearing them up as the tears ceased flowing... they sparkled at him with her familiar smile, as her voice calmed down, clearing her throat.

"Well... enough of ze waterworks. Will 'av to retouch my makeup before I get to the office. You're 'ome now. Safe. And we 'av so much to do. 'zare will be a party when we return to the facility, of course. Ze board and research teams will want to celebrate the hero who 'as recovered ze virus. Director Owens will be there... he especially wanted to see you about something. Ask some questions about NEST, I believe."

"If it's all the same to you... I'd rather not stand on ceremony. Was enough of that aboard the Leviathan for my tastes."

"So I 'eard. You and Colonel Vladimir got into a... what ese eet you Americans say... 'pissing match'?", Christine laughed again slightly, unable to repress a smile... a slight one HUNK felt himself return it, in spite of himself. As he'd predicted, within moments it was as if she had never been upset, and was herself again. "On ze flight deck of ze Leviathan. I wish I could 'av been there. Though what I 'eard was pleasing."

"Word travels fast these days."

"You 'av no idea. Ese eet true SHIPMASTER kept you on opposite ends of ze ship when 'e found out? Under armed guards?"

"Yes. Suited me just fine. Got all the rest I wanted, food and treatment. Probably didn't suit Vladimir. But he attended all the parties... always was his thing. Being the center of attention. Doubt it was the party he was thinking about the whole time he was there, though."

"All too true. Safest course of action. Ze two of you would wrought more damage to zat ship zen even zat giant worm you blew up could 'av managed. Ze Inner Circle looped the footage of that quite a few times. It shut even ze Colonel up. For a change."

"Figures. Never going to live that damn worm down. If only every threat and problem could be shot or blown up the same way. Had to think up another way, for the Colonel."

"Zare are worse things to be remembered for, than slaying a colossal mutant. And it sounds like you managed without me politically for once. I am so proud."

"Well, I didn't get myself gutted, at least. Came close. Besides... can't attend that party of yours because I still have a report to write. Operation isn't officially over until it is filed. Owens will have to content himself with that."

"I thought so. By ze book and official from start to finish. I will make your usual excuses. You will need your rest anyways. We will 'av to 'av a little, more intimate celebration of our own this evening. Up at ze castle. Dinner... and dessert."

"Yes... we will."

The young woman's naughty smile gave away everything, no more words on the matter required. The prospect of that evening was both welcome, and troubling. To truly be with her again. A return to their normalcy, after all that had happened. Something as simple as dinner and an evening together. It was a strange feeling... one he would contend with later. Reacquainting himself with everything. No other return from a mission had made him feel this odd way... but then, everything about Raccoon City had been different. They remained comfortably silent together for a time, her resting her head against him, arms around one another... the limousine steadily drawing closer to their destination. Soon they were passing through a series of manned security checkpoints along with the rest of the motorcade, entering the familiar underground tunnels, headed down towards the Loire Facility's transit line they would take up to the Paris Facility. A shadow encompassing the limousine... the muffled beating of the rain on the roof ceasing, and the underground lights washing over them, passing beneath them. Being back underground troubled him as well... how long he had spent in a transit tunnel not dissimilar from this one. Remembering their infiltration of NEST. He shook his head, clearing it from his thoughts. He looked forward to the sleep, after his report was filed... but still had duties to carry out first. The report... and something else he couldn't do without the Comtesse's assistance. He couldn't put it off any longer. He had a promise to keep. And so did Jill. Only Christine could make it possible. Looking back down to the Comtesse, he spoke again, slowly and quietly, heartbeat quickening. Silently hoping she would understand... and come through. All of it depended on her, now.

"I need your help, Comtesse. Before we get to the train. Reach the facility."

"Mmm... eager already are we? I cannot blame you. Patience HUNK... zare will be much more where ze kisses came from. My beloved 'usband ese away on business as well. Raymund ese off fucking 'is favorite 'ores, no doubt. We 'ave ze entire estate to ourselves..."

"Not that, yet. We need to talk. It's about three matters I need your help and resources resolving... before I can put this operation behind me. Requests."

"Three wishes... like the stories of the monkey's paws, and djinn. Did you wish to rub me like a lamp?", The Comtesse murmured back with some visible amusement... before her smile faded away a moment. Peering up at his face, studying him closer with growing intrigue. Raising a brow his way as she went on. "I know zat look. Zat voice. Eet ese serious, isn't it? Important to you?"

"Yes... it is."

"Would eet 'appen to have anything to do with that signal device you are no longer wearing? Ze very one which mysteriously turned off before you were returned to the Leviathan... and according to my technicians turned on earlier een ze Midwestern United States? Arklay County, to be specific? Eet must be serious. Zat police girl you were locking lips with on ze satellite feed? Vladimir insisted on drudging her up at our meeting with ze Inner Circle. I wish you 'ad been a fly on ze wall for zat meeting."

"Yes. I need to explain it. Explain her."

Comtesse Henri looked back at him silently and steadily, as though x-raying his features with those large eyes. Looking for any signs of guilt. He stared back at her unblinkingly. He waited for anger or coldness to return to her features... accusation and displeasure over Jill. Envy. But to his partial, silent surprise... it didn't. Instead there was concern and sympathy... and above all, an understanding. Finally she took his hand into hers, fingers intertwining through his. She slowly nodded, another smile forming on her beautiful, pale features, rising up a bit, leaning in and pressing another kiss to his lips, letting it linger, before drawing back and speaking again calmly.

"You do. Three wishes zen, 'andsome. Do not worry... I am not a monkey's paw. Go on, zen. Explain. I am listening."

---

October 5th, 1998, 9:32AM

U.S.S. Barracks #4, Underground Area of the Umbrella Paris Facility, France

Slamming the door shut behind himself, he stepped out of the light of the Paris Facility, the noise of voices and footsteps, and into the silent darkness and solitude of the barracks. He remained within it for a moment, drawing a slow, steadying breath. Recovering himself from the effort it took to be around so many others. Even now. Carefully, he undid his helmet and mask's straps again, sliding each off his head once more, breathing the cool air within the room, and placing the mask within the helmet and tucking the helmet under one arm. Then, instinctively, his hand reached over and flicked on the light switch. One after another the lights flashed on with a series of hums... revealing the spacious interior of the unoccupied barracks before him. Taking a step or two from the door and to the head of the aisle. Eyes sweeping over it steadily. Twenty four beds awaited, divided into two sections of twelve on either side of the room. There was a section to the east leading to the showers and washrooms... while straight down to the far northern side was his office and quarters... along with his own shower and washroom. Everything separate of the agents, his subordinates. At each bed was a footlocker... holding all twenty four Alpha Team subordinates' personal affects... though some of them had been left out, on bedside tables, and on the sheets. Including dog tags... of those who had served in the armed forces before joining Umbrella Security Service. All personal objects left there as though their owners would return for them any day now. Instead... he was going to have to have them all incinerated at the facility's furnace, rather than returning them to their families.

The top secret nature of Operation: NESTWRECKER and Umbrella Security Service demanded such sacrifices. More difficult ones than that. As far as Umbrella was concerned, now that they were dead, their usefulness outlived, they had never existed.

They were not the U.B.C.S. Mercenaries, but covert special forces. Spies, thieves and assassins. They had known what they were getting into when they signed on the dotted line with the U.S.S. And most of their kind tended not to have families anyways for good reason, or at least not be in contact with them anymore. Most... though not all. Still... the families of Alpha Team would get off better than Captain Rodriquez's was liable to. Rodriquez's family would almost certainly pay the price for his selfishness... he wondered if the price of his temporary freedom had been worth it to him. It was easier to sacrifice of others instead of one's self... though it should have been different with family. He supposed it wasn't to Rodriquez. Part of him looked forward to their paths crossing another time. For the final time. He intended to ask that of the man, ask why he had done it... before he did what was necessary. Officially cancelled the man's contract. His eyes continued sweeping back and forth about the room... memory of the time before the operation returning. Before it had all gone to hell, and he'd had to slog through it.

Just over two weeks before and the time preceding it, his team had resided in here...the place had been alive, as it was out in the halls of the facility. Now he stood alone in a barracks of memories... where only the Grim Reaper and GHOST had survived the operation. And even then, GHOST was out there somewhere in the world with Ada, living up to his code name. An irony that made him want to laugh again bitterly... but he made no sound at all. Now it was a barracks where only Death resided. As it had been since Lady Spencer left, really. Death walked alone, sooner or later. At least until he formed the next Alpha Team... for however long they lasted. This one had lasted longer than most. He'd had time to build it up to the size it had been. He would not make it so big, next time. Twenty five on a team was too big and unwieldy. Less could be more, in their profession, as long as the right candidates were selected. And he would not be accepting any more rookies to the team... trigger happy and unpredictable factors... there would be only experts and professionals, going forward. But filling any of the many vacancies on Alpha Team was among the lowest on his list of priorities, just now. He still had an operation to complete. And the end was within sight. Gripping the damaged helmet holding his mask tighter under his arm... he marched forward down the concrete floor, limping, ignoring the ache in his leg and muscles all over his form, boots tapping across it, echoing about the room. Looking to each bed. Remembering every true name of his team, the bed they had called their own, their positions on the team and their code names. The missions he'd performed with each. Orders issued. Objectives completed. He remembered everything. Where his responsibilities were concerned. His shadow passing along the walls as he made the final walk down towards his quarters.

Despite how eventful it had been, the limousine and subterranean cable car ride with the Comtesse, what they had spoken of... her welcome agreement to his requests, and the return of her icy mask in front of the employees the moment she stepped outside the limousine... none of it weighed heavily on his mind. It had all gone by in a blur, every security checkpoint, every high level ID Wristband scan... walking down every security camera and guard lined corridor and plunging deeper into the heart of the underground level of the facility not dissimilar to NEST. The sleek and pristine corridors. Disguising his limp all the while. Passing familiar faces that now seemed strangers... their many eyes watching him. The whispering, murmurs. And the silence as he and the Comtesse had passed them, quickly parting way before them. Fear. Awe. He had looked forward to reaching the barracks... as he had looked forward to Carla's lab... seclusion away from it all... away from the questions, congratulations, appreciation, fear... away from the wariness that others filled him with. When the time had come to, the Director and him had parted company coolly and professionally in front of the onlookers. Betraying nothing to them... apart from a flicker of her eyes to him who knew her better than any of the others present. They had shared their parting embrace before stepping out of the limousine anyways. Though if she had it her way she would likely have kissed him right there in the middle of the facility for all to see. If she could afford not to play the image politics game. And she had went off down the hall, carrying Nikolai's laptop case by its handle down at her side, making her way to her office while surrounded by other, sycophantic employees vying for her attention, flocking to her, leaving him standing there on his own once more. The news of the G-Virus procurement having probably spread throughout Umbrella Europe by now. The word was out... and she had a lot of work ahead of her to do, before they could depart the facility that evening. As did he. He had watched the blonde's red, enticing form depart for a moment... sashaying down the hall and vanishing around the corner... before turning on his boot and going on to the U.S.S. wing of the facility.

Reaching the end of the barracks now, he unlocked and opened the door to his quarters, stepping inside, he closed the door behind himself, flicking on the lights and looking over the interior a single time. All was as he had left it. It always was. She was the only one other than him who ever came in here without his say so... to speak with him, or for the thrill of a risk taking tryst. He marched down to his desk, glancing to his computer and remembering Nikolai's laptop. The Comtesse was probably poring over it by now for herself in her office. The dirty laundry that had been gathered, figuring out how best to make use of it. He'd had nothing but time to analyze Nikolai's data on the Leviathan with QUARTERMASTER. Had discussed it with Director Henri on the way here to the facility. It would be leverage he and the Comtesse would use, if Vladimir and his allies tried anything further against them. Though he was sure they had their hands full of problems in the wake of Raccoon City that were bigger than HUNK. And had U.M.F.-013 to contend with still, and the newly acquired Caucasus Facility. He wanted to release it all anyways... let the company see the Colonel's dirty laundry. Send it to Spencer. He despised the political game of leverage and manipulation... but knew the grim necessity... especially now. Adapt or die. He needed to adapt to this world of politics off the battlefield. At least understand it... that it was already a battlefield of its own kind. He wouldn't have a benefactor forever... nothing good lasted forever. One was never too old to learn... and one could never have too many weapons at their disposal. Or a shield, in this case, considering his own dirty laundry. The accusations about him the Colonel had been entirely correct about making. He settled down in his seat, setting aside the battle scarred helmet with the damaged mask, removing each of his gloves and placing them down inside the helmet as well. Then he turned on his own computer... leaning back in his seat as it booted up. He was fine with computers, had learned to be a more useful agent... but outside accessing them in the field, on a mission, writing reports, or passing some time playing Doom or other games, he had little use for them. When the computer had booted up, he leaned forward again, opened up the word processor program... and got to work.

At long last... HUNK began to write. And write. And write. A flurry of finger movements on the keyboard. It came naturally to him. His report ended up being much longer than any other... pages... a summary of the original operation from the start, the infiltration and disaster at the NEST, Birkin's actions... the outbreak, the deaths of Alpha Team, having to double back to the facility on his own... his retrieval of the G-Virus and escape to the R.P.D. That should have been all of it... the end of the mission... but then Vladimir had intervened... Nemesis had intervened... and Valentine had as well. Nikolai, Captain Mikhail and Carlos. He wrote of what had happened instead. The harrowing journey. Most of it, at least. Writing what the Comtesse, Board, Spencer... and all those who would undoubtedly get themselves copies legally or otherwise, needed to read. Adding his post mission recommendations at the end as well. Hoping they were heeded. It all flowed out of him with ease, somehow... usually he struggled with reports... even on the simplest missions. Actions spoke better than words in an email or on a piece of paper. But this time... he drew a catharsis from it. Letting it out, as he knew he never would in speech. And when he was done, he went back and edited for a long time until he was satisfied. When he finally was... he forwarded it to Director Henri's office... then switched off his computer... leaning back in the seat again and rubbing his sore, exhausted face. Contemplating all he had written... everything that had poured out from himself.

And what he had withheld from the company.

But he didn't contemplate it all for long... there was nothing more to be done. Operation: NESTWRECKER was officially completed. Long after it had begun and was supposed to have ended.

Finally, rising up from the desk, he went to his closet and began to strip off his tattered, burnt, bullet ridden body armor and uniform... a piece at a time, hanging everything up on the rack. He would need to wear the old outfit one last time before replacing it all, later, after his rest. He looked at Matilda hanging in her holster... and looked to the small armory he kept inside his quarters. The familiar weapons and ammunition. He would need to stock it up from the facility's primary armory, soon. The time would come to ship out again, when he was more healed, and he intended to be ready for that. Then he looked back at the hanging gas mask... the broken lens on it and the intact red one. Looked at his own reflection in it... before peering down to the right pouch on his body armor. Reaching inside and retrieving two items within... the ruby glinting in the light as he studied it. He remembered a life time ago on that train in Central Street Station considering giving it to the Comtesse... she liked red, and liked shiny, valuable things. Now... all thought of that was gone. It belonged to him, as the emerald had to Carlos, and as the sapphire had to Jill. He had no personal effects that hadn't been given to him... by Bella... the Comtesse, and now by Jill. But this one... was his own. Perhaps... he was getting damn sentimental... but it was his. He had found it. It had no monetary value to him... but was his all the same. He refused to part ways with it, as he had her. Especially for a woman who had more than enough jewelry and fancy things as it were.

HUNK tucked the ruby away back into the pouch, and took the second item he'd retrieved with him to the shower and closed the bathroom door behind himself. He turned the light on, wincing as it burned his eyes, blinking to clear it. He looked back at the bruised, battered, stitched up and bandaged blonde man in the mirror, setting aside the object on the counter next to the sink. The stranger's deadened, grey eyes peered back at him... and he wondered how he had ever let himself be reduced to this state. To fall into the life he had... where something like this was normal to him. Looking like one of those walking corpses out in the streets of Raccoon City. Only ten years ago pulling a trigger on a man who deserved it had made him vomit... the boy he had been. Who had been good... or at least innocent. Naive. Stupid. Whichever. They were all one and the same. Now his life of serving and killing monsters was simply his life. A statue carved from granite stared back at him now... his face more an unyielding mask than flesh. No gas mask required, really. Shutting his eyes tightly, he silently mourned the loss of whoever he had been, the decay showing on the surface, as he did now and again. Aching all over. But nowhere worse than inside. Where had the boy looking back at him in a bathroom mirror at a masquerade party gone? One who couldn't hold his liquor, much less kill without feeling guilt and revulsion from it? She had been right... that night. It had gotten easier... too easy... but it didn't have any right to be. Wasn't fair. Those pitying looks he had received from other Umbrella employees... employees of the Spencers over the years. Including that valet at the party and SHIPMASTER. He hadn't understood them at the time... but did now, far too late. Why hadn't any of them said anything... if they had cared enough to feel sympathy in the first place? Because they wanted him to learn the hard way? It was the only way most people learned things, he knew... the hard way. Sound advice and warnings in advance were often not heeded... and likely they would have been wasted on him. Head over heels in love with Umbrella's heir, lost in a fugue state of romance.

All the same... they were as much to blame for him being like this as the Spencers. Their half apathy, half concern. Moral laziness. As much to blame as he himself was. Despite how much he respected some of them. Then again... maybe he had been warned, and simply couldn't remember. All he had seen was her pair of green eyes looking back at him. All he had heard was her accented murmur in his ear... making him promises she had inevitably betrayed. Of them all, SENTINEL probably had the closest to the mark view about him... but was another man carrying his own albatross around his neck. Probably the reason why they had long understood each other better than most, and had gotten along better, once, before drifting down their separate paths.

What the hell had Jill seen in him, to want him as she had? To risk everything... and let him walk away with the G-Virus? He was everything she should have hated. Things were different now... he felt different, in the wake of Raccoon City... but everything was also the same. He was back where he had started... whether or not he was the same man anymore. However many of hims had died over the years, reborn into someone else. The boy had died in that sewer with Marcus, and hadn't realized it for years. All he could do was learn from that... and understand he had died again in Raccoon City. In that courtyard... before waking again in the chapel. And he had to find out who he was, now. He released a weary breath, opening his eyes and turning from the disheveled, injured stranger and climbed into the shower, starting it up. The hot water nearly knocking him over against the wall... but he braced himself and stood firm, closing his eyes, and tried to relax. Washing up carefully. He took his time, working to clear his mind of thought... and of the pain. The heated water helped with the latter. The showers aboard the Leviathan had been as welcome... Doctor Radames had volunteered to join him, and help hold him upright, of course. He had turned her down to her teasing disappointment... but a faint involuntary smirk touched his lips even now at the recent memory. It was strange to think even how messed up the company was... he still had fond or amused feelings about his time here again. The people. Some of them, at least. It was intoxicating... as danger always was. Wrapped in a veneer of temptation. Despite knowing what was beneath it.

When he was finally finished in the shower, he stepped back out, dried himself off and shaved at last, slowly and carefully... not needing any more cuts than he already had. By the end... yet another different man looked back at him in the mirror when all was said and done... or at least, a clean, injured stranger did. He took the time to examine his wounds again as well. He knew he was recovering well, all things considered... how lucky he was and always had been when it came to what he did... and would continue to heal. Had the best doctor... doctors, nurses, and medicine, treatment the company had to offer. As a valuable commodity. Thanks to his skills and benefactor. He would be back out on the battlefield again soon. There would be no shortage of work for him. Whether that meant putting a new team together... or going out solo. Nikolai had been right about that much. He would become a more valuable commodity than he already had been. Someone was going to need to clean up the many messes Raccoon City had left behind for the company. Part of him simply understood that in a distant detached way... wistful at the prospect... another part looked forward to the prospect. To bury himself back into what he was good at. To ironically enter another conflict... to escape the one growing inside himself. When he was finished shaving and washing off his face, drying it, looking at himself in the steamed up mirror, satisfied, he looked down to it next to the sink... reaching down and picking it up again.

The necklace glinted in the light overhead... along with her name and details stamped out upon the steel. Specialist Valentine. That had been her, alright, in more fields than a military one. Skilled and supportive. Someone he had been able to trust, through and through. Even being on opposite sides. He looked them over again... slowly shaking his head. He didn't deserve them... no matter how much she had thought so. How much she had insisted. She had made a mistake giving them to him. But... she had wanted it. And he couldn't deny... it pleased him that she had. That she had wanted him to carry something of hers. To remember her. To have part of her. All he could do was honor her in what little ways he now could... as she had honored him in taking the device. In a million other ways, really. Raising the dog tags, he lowered the cool chain and steel down over his neck, the tags resting against his chest. Looking back at himself wearing them again... he felt a faint, satisfied smile touch his lips... but only for an instant. Then it was gone, and he turned his back on the stranger in the mirror, turning off the light switch.

Going back out to his quarters, to his bed, he went to his dark alarm clock radio on the bedside table, next to the lamp perched on it. He set the alarm to not long before the time Director Henri wanted him to meet her in her office. Leaving himself enough time to get properly woken up, to eat something and get back in his uniform. It would take time for her to fulfill his requests... and in the meanwhile, he could rest. The Sixth Laboratory would require his full attention, to be at his best, however it turned out. At last, turning off the lights of his quarters, he lay down in the familiar, spacious, comfortable bed, drawing the covers over himself. Pressing his head back into the pillows, the glowing red numbers on his alarm clock the only visible thing. Moments passed... minutes on the clock passing... the silence rejuvenating... yet equally deafening. More than ever, he felt the emptiness of the room. Of the bed. The solitude. Yet it wasn't the Comtesse he saw in his mind's eye, or wished she were lying next to him... her arms enveloping him, as she had before here, at numerous luxurious hotels, and back at her estate in Loire Village. Resting against him. Nor even Bella, when they had lie together in their quarters at Rockfort Island, the Leviathan, and her various properties around the world.

It was Jill.

The two of them, recovering from their injuries together... taking care of each other... protecting the other. Intertwined. Tasting her lips again. It could have been so... if he had gone with her, as he should have. In a cheap motel room with her... that he would prefer even to the decadence of the Henri Estate's master bedchambers. A world of their own, far away from Umbrella, instead of here in the midst of it. He saw the brunette's blue eyes again, looking back at him in the darkness. He bitterly regretted it again. So many regrets adding up... becoming difficult to repress. He knew he couldn't go back to his old state of awake sleep much longer, at Umbrella... shut off his mind and simply act on autopilot, as he had been for years. Everything had changed too much. He was changing. It frightened him... thrilled him. Danger always had. This was an existential sort of danger, though. Something more dangerous... more deep. He dared to hope for something more... something better... even as he was afraid to. When he got back to carrying out more missions for Umbrella... he would know for certain if all that was true. If he had learned anything or not.

Still... he was another man now, regardless of by how many degrees. Or maybe he was just more himself. The boy War had chosen, once. Before she had changed his life. Changed everything about him. Maybe Jill had turned him the opposite direction again, in defiance of Lady Spencer. Two hims... more in conflict than ever. Death... and John. HUNK... and Jack. Either way... he couldn't go back to living his life as an observer, through a world passing him by. He needed to be part of it again... to remain conscious from now on. And to remember who he was. Discover him, again. He thought about it for quite some time, peering up at the ceiling... chewing it over in the silence. Breathing slowly.

But somehow... despite everything weighing down on his mind... at some point in his contemplation his eyelids grew heavy. Closing of their own accord. And it wasn't long after that his body managed to drift off to a deepening sleep.

The rarest, and best kind of sleeps at that... the one where neither dreams or nightmares managed to reach him.

---

Ah, HUNK's mundane life at Umbrella outside the missions introduced at last. No action of course, but it's vital to the universe and character building, development. How he gets by in the real world, being who he is. I enjoyed introducing Umbrella France/Loire Village at last, especially the lady of Loire Village herself. Her dynamic and relationship with HUNK will be explored some more, it grew a bit in the telling, now you can see it 'in person' between the two of them instead of solely from HUNK recounting things, much as I enjoyed doing that as well. All of HUNK's relationships sort of developed gradually to me, and are unique from one another, though there are similarities and differences. I wanted to show the two sides of Comtesse Henri here, and will some more, how she is in public and how she is with HUNK. I also like showing HUNK's more 'mundane' aspects... he can't always be a full time badass like we know he is during a mission, on a battlefield. At Umbrella he is mostly just another cog in the machine, legend or not, benefactors or not. He will always be middle management at best, between his talents, usefulness as a tool, and 'friends' in high places. But he is not a blue blood or a scientist, a part of the Inner Circle of Umbrella. He's basically an American peasant/servant some of the nobles are fond of like a pet. Not much has changed since Lady Spencer brought him into the fold. I like his POV's, showing how very biased and complicated he is on all manner of subjects and matters. Has his own mind.

A big aspect to the HUNK and Christine relationship is how much more she tries to involve him in things than Lady Spencer did. Hence all the parties he gets dragged to at the Henri Estate and abroad, travelling with her. Whereas Lady Spencer kept things low key and tried to spare him from such events and social matters. Mostly kept their time outside work together private. There are benefits and advantages to this, HUNK, like it or not, has learned things about people from Christine that Lady Spencer didn't prepare him for. Even if he has to grit his teeth and be around others he mostly feels little more than contempt for. He is a very private, introverted man, obviously, Christine is not. One thing I liked adding, a character aspect, is how many names HUNK forgets at Umbrella, being so deep in his own private world, inside his own head. He remembers faces but forgets names often because he doesn't socialize with most of them, or care enough to remember, usually unless the person stands out, or he respects them. They have an odd couple thing going on between them, yet I believe she genuinely loves him... in her way. She's more girlish and Princess-like than Jill, are parallels to one another with some similarities, around the same age, but obviously has a colder and more ruthless, calculating side, given she's an Umbrella Director. She is a non action character while Jill is an action heroine. High class to Jill's common, criminal upbringing. As it was with Lady Spencer, though Christine is married, it's something of an open secret her and HUNK are in an affair together. But again, most Umbrella employees ain't saying shit about it within earshot of either of them. And as for her own employees, her staff at the estate, they feel sorry for HUNK but are extremely grateful when he's around to curb her worst aspects. A lighter dynamic for HUNK. She's a nightmare to them lol. I love all the dynamics that sort of sprouted up to me for HUNK and Christine, how different they are, a villain pairing that strangely works. Not perfectly, but it's probably been his 'healthiest' or at least most stable, understanding romantic relationship, until Jill came along.

Oh... and how do I visually see Comtesse Henri? Somewhere between the French actresses Clémence Poésy and Léa Seydoux. I'll let you interpret how that looks exactly.

Also, unimpressed HUNK to Princess Diana: "You have nothing on your cousin." Of course he didn't actually say that, but yeah lol. *Comtesse beside herself with grief over her death* HUNK: "Fuck. Must pretend to care. Rather sleep in. Or go on another suicide mission." "Grieving for your dead friend? I moved on from Bella, get over it." (Has not moved on in the slightest). I could easily write an odd villain couple dark comedy about the two of them as, in the high life surroundings, fancy parties and such, getting into all kinds of social situations, dilemmas.

Anyways, back to shorter but detailed enough chapters. Coming up soon, HUNK's three wishes ;).