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.

52. Epilogue: The Calm Before The Storm

Jinero: It's a relief to be done beyond a doubt, even if it's a bit bittersweet. To complete it after all this time, and finally tell the HUNK story. At least a work now exists that has explored him.

Execution for the Joker. Should have happened long before the Killing Joke. I've moved away from no kill heroes for the most part, still appreciate their optimism, but realistically they are as responsible for the victims as the killer is by not ending it. Easy to stand on the moral high ground when you aren't the victim or the victim isn't your friend or family. The Punisher and The Shadow any day, among others.

Likely he'd be pissed at her for awhile, but nowhere near as much as towards Simmons. He'd bury the hatchet with her by the end of 4, give her a final parting kiss, tell her to go back to being the way she was before she hooked up with him, one of the good guys and get out of his world, then leave. Pardoned Rebecca would rejoin the B.S.A.A. and HUNK would join Red Umbrella. Simmons was already a piece of work in the game, in this universe I would make him on an even higher tier of conniving scumbag.

kingalastor1: A bit too melodramatic for HUNK I think to tell all that to her directly. Him taking off without telling her anything, without trying to reconnect with her, would make more sense for where his head it at by the end of 4. "I can't find peace, all I'll cause her is pain if I go to her. She's moved on anyways. Doesn't need me. It's for the best." A failure of communication and a false assumption based on his low opinion of himself, and his higher one of her. Miscommunication is often disastrous and tragic. But they'd reunite in Revelations, fight Il Veltro and H.C.F. together, so that'd be something lol. They'll have some time to say more of what they need to... between gunfire and monsters of course.

I think when her body never turns up or Wesker's, HUNK would be certain she didn't survive the fall, and that Wesker took her body to extract her DNA for testing... in which case he is correct. He just doesn't know she lives and was placed in cryo freeze and brainwashed.

I think Leon and HUNK would indeed have, if not a friendship, a mutual respect by the end of 4. They would have an initial conflict over a plot line I'm setting up in this chapter that will be obvious, the same reason Simmons and Benford hate him so much. Well, not quite the same, but connected. Something HUNK is going to do to someone Leon cares about in this universe's Code Veronica adaptation. It would lead to an uneasy partnership in 4, mistrust, but gradually working together, getting to know one another better, and HUNK telling the rookie more about the U.S. Government he is working for, more about Simmons. Likely the bioweapons program. "Don't be naive. You're a useful tool, Kennedy. As I was to Umbrella. Nothing more. They're using your own patriotism against you." Whether Leon believes him or not is another matter.

Aside from the characters already in 6? I can see myself adding Agent (as an actual character involved in the story instead of a tacked on co-op partner for Ada lol), Carlos and perhaps roles/cameos by others, like Jill, Rebecca, Barry, Claire, etc. 6 was a global scale story with multiple factions, it would make sense to turn it into an epic with a huge cast. HUNK, SENTINEL, NIGHTHAWK, FLY GIRL, QUARTERMASTER, the remnants of Wolf Pack, for Blue Umbrella working alongside Chris, Carlos, Piers, Sheva and others of the B.S.A.A. Ada/Agent operating independently of course. The Feds/U.S. Government with Leon, Helena Harper, Hunnigan, Bruce McGivern, Fong Ling (defected and joined Bruce's outfit), perhaps private detective Ark Thompson, bringing in Leon's friends. Carla and Neo Umbrella as the big bad of course, perhaps teamed up with remnants of the H.C.F. and Il Veltro. Simmons and The Family as the villain faction lurking in the background, but having more presence than they did in the game. Likely they would be responsible for Jake Wesker's creation, Simmons creating him from a Wesker sample. Sherry would likely have a different role in this universe, probably part of the B.S.A.A. After Neo Umbrella is defeated, the Family would go on to be the next main villain of the universe, instead of the RE 7/8 nonsense. In this universe it would be a hell of an epic story. A mountainous undertaking. Alas, one I'll likely never get to.

Echo Five: She would, and it would probably be even more satisfying than it was in 5 by the time the story got there. Excella is another villain who Capcom should have done more with. I can see her flaunting HUNK around in front of masked, cloaked, brainwashed Jill, getting all kissy and flirting with him while Jill is forced to stand there and watch, her consciousness aware of what's happening and unable to say anything about it. HUNK not knowing who she is. Might even be the first time Jill sees HUNK without his mask on, just to rub the salt in the wound. Excella dragging HUNK to her room by his tie while Jill has to stand outside on guard duty. I would make Excella an absolutely vile, petty, malicious femme fatale type with a good public image, few really knowing what she is. Some human touches too though, even for one as bad as her.

evolution-500: Jill held a good deal back to talk about with her father, there will be future visits, but being as it was their home town they lost, an important place to them, she wanted to get in detail about the bastards responsible for it. He deserved to know who she is now gunning for. And yes indeed, it was about reconnecting. "Heres the crazy shit that's been happening since we last talked, dad." Lol. Good feedback though, it's always difficult with dialogue, figuring out if enough is being said or too much. Sometimes it works for some people, sometimes not. I'll probably go back to these chapters and edit them more over time, tune them further to be more satisfied.

Thank you kindly friend, hope the finale pleases you, along with the upcoming GHOST/Ada story.

117: That or execute Warren himself, a loose end to tie up for Umbrella. One or the other. Though he's more Jill's problem to tackle, unfinished personal business.

No gunshot or knife stab death for Bella. Big explosion. She stays behind to manually activate/overload the DEN facility's self destruct sequence to keep the Cameron Thing from escaping out into the world and destroying it, locking herself inside the reactor or whatever area the Cameron Thing is locked in as well. Self sacrifice, while she orders HUNK and Rebecca to flee, after a tense final scene of course. "Fly you fools!" Lol. I think I would give Bella her first and final POV chapter or sequence as she overloads the core. No previous POV chapter because she simply knows too much.

Rebecca would have been off on her own separate mission for the anti bioterror group preceding the B.S.A.A. in the Antarctic. Taking pictures of the DEN facility there to report back to the rest of the team. She'll pick up a distress call being broadcast by the facility. Naturally her curiosity will be risen, she will snoop around the entrance of the facility and get inside, check out the entrance area to find it abandoned of Umbrella employees. Before she can investigate further, or flee, cue Alpha Team led by HUNK and Bella storming into the facility to investigate the distress call, and taking her with them deeper into the facility via the cable car, their prisoner. HUNK recognizing her and her him. Poor gal gets swept along for a horrific and gruesome mission. Her scientist expertise will come in handy, at least.

Storm: Doge would probably growl at HUNK. They're good judges of bad character. Know there's something off about him at least, that he is dangerous, intimidating.

Lol yes she did, I drop in my little references. I think Dick Valentine just wishes he could have done it. Nothing like annoying neighbors.

bakaultima: Thank you very much, and no it isn't, the remake is more bad than good. They cut out numerous big important sections of the game, choices, no Mercenaries mode, changed the tone, character personalities and appearances, played up the Nemesis too much, lost Jill's Samurai Edge, etc. Too much of an action movie, less survival horror and atmosphere. Too many cliches, cringe edgy dialogue from Jill, who should have been dead a hundred times over in the cutscenes (a goddamn rocket launcher was fired directly at her feet and she shrugged it off, and fell off a building a number of stories, walked it off). A damn shame, after they did fairly well with 2's remake. But that's Capcom, isn't it? One step forward, two steps back. Or twelve steps back, in Village's case. Thank you, I'm glad you and others like my adaptation, and what I'm trying to do. Make it bigger but also character focused. Make it feel like a universe.

Vong: He's known Wesker since at least 1988, and he knew he was being a double agent at S.T.A.R.S. either because of seeing Jill's picture of her team, or Comtesse Henri informing him around the time of the Arklay Incident. Why would he have a difficult time believing it? He knows the sort of person Wesker is.

Arkham Knight: The human aspect to the story was important to me, to sort of ground them a bit more, in this semi fantastic world of theirs of bioterrorism, monsters and conspiracies. Capcom didn't do much character stuff for many of the games, was a bit more about the universe and story than delving deep into characters. I thought Claire's scenario in the RE2 Remake was pretty touching though character wise, going to hell and back for Sherry, very Aliens, Ripley and Newt. I wish I could have done more with Sherry in this story, but it would have broken the lore too heavily, if she had gone with HUNK and Jill. Fortunately I don't have a problem with the idea of bending the lore a bit where it works ;).

Had to get the Redfield bloodline in there somewhere lol though in this universe I think poor Chris will eventually get his way. Eventually. As will Dick Valentine.

One of the founders at least, it will be primarily former U.S.S. Agents who found it. I can see him and SENTINEL among the originals who found it. HUNK responsible for the Blue Umbrella name, blue uniforms and blue lenses on their gas masks instead of red like U.S.S. Founding it in Jill's name when she is believed dead, of course, her color. His next step towards redemption. Trying to live up to the man she saw in him. Then failing again to assimilate, between U.N. restrictions, U.S.S. being overhauled, B.S.A.A. babysitters and his own deepening depression and desire for revenge against Wesker who he knows is still alive somewhere. Leaving Blue Umbrella to become a global wandering mercenary/assassin, with Comtesse Henri's aid from afar on intel and resources, until being swept up in the events of 5. The Resident Evil wiki page for Blue Umbrella explains how they operate in relation to the B.S.A.A. Thank you again ;).

ACuriousCat: Aside from the RE universe, I am working on a F.E.A.R. 3 story, a series I grew up loving that got ruined in the third game, a good deal of wasted story potential, inferior to its predecessors. So I'm doing my version of how it should have been. And working on and off on a Thief story, set within the original trilogy not the disappointing, crappy 2014 remake. Much appreciated, as much as the game HUNK is cool and works for the games, given he is a bit character mostly relegated to mini games, he wouldn't have translated well in a story format, and needed to be delved into and developed into a protagonist. Explaining why he is the way he is.

Guest: HUNK is no knight in shining armor, knows Jill could handle it herself against some punks, that she has a gun. And I think he's stopped being the jealous type after Bella abandoned him, turned cold on such things. Can't even see him as the type to be going into a public bar anyways, apart from his freelance assassin for hire phase during the events of 5, while mourning over Jill's supposed death.

Akira-Hayama: I figured it was important to give the poignant human threads some closure by the end of this story, Jill's relationship with her father being one of them. Not a fan of leaving lots of loose ends, though of course there are still other plot threads I can work with in the future. Wanted to make this story have a sense of closure, why it began with Jill and will end with Jill, as the protagonist of the story/game. Important as HUNK is, he's sort of the deurotagonist, and the setup protagonist for potential future stories in this universe.

I wanted to give just enough background on Dick and her's relationship, without drowning in it, as important as the past is the present is what matters most. Jill comes to realize that, while HUNK by contrast is still dragged down by his past, hasn't gotten over it. HUNK wants better for Jill though, better than he got, hence wanting her to reunite with her father and move forward. And he felt sympathy for Dick, knowing what is to be a father but unable to be in the life of his kids. At least he was able to patch up one such relationship, help out there. He's really closing all the loops on Raccoon City, that part of his life, but he has learned from it, it is definitely steering him towards another way, but not yet. He's still up to his neck in Umbrella, going to take time.

Who knows lol I do like my earned, eventual, happy endings, as long as there was a bittersweetness leading up to it. I think Dick will get what he wants to happen, what HUNK and Jill would need, when they are ready to. A whole lot of suffering to go though, suffice to say, and more lessons to be learned. Journey is only beginning for them. And yes, the kids would be unstoppable, as Doctor Radames pointed out.

Thank you kindly again, and I'm glad I was able to take an odd pairing and make it something people have enjoyed. Consider headcanon. For each story I do I try to make it a goal to do something that hasn't been done before, there were a number of firsts with this one, HUNK being a fleshed out character, character development for him, him and Jill, etc. Part of why I look forward to posting the GHOST/Ada story, another thing that hasn't been done yet. And here we are at last, at the end. I hope you enjoy it as much as I have writing this story.

aPancake: Glad to hear you've been enjoying it ;). And yes indeed, it's a bittersweet torment, but a necessary one. Not everything gets a happy ending.

Thenumbersmason: Wikipedia calls it a Silencer, with Suppressor being another name for it. I'll be sure to add in 'Suppressor' more, but Silencer is still accurate. As for the drum magazines, people in real life might not use them as much as standard magazines... but they still use them. And will in this universe here and there. That and they aren't dealing with standard human enemies, where conventional magazines are more useful. Hence why HUNK's team wasn't equipped with drum magazines, they only planned on battling NEST security if necessary. Then the shit hit the fan and Raccoon City's outbreak happened. Agents are trained to fight mutated monsters that are tougher than humans, and many of them, so are outfitted accordingly to take them down easier. Sometimes you just need more bullets and firepower. U.S.S. Agents can handle a bit more bulk and weight for that kind of trade off, discomfort doesn't mean much to them. And they were primarily running defensive operations, securing the Quarantine Zone during the outbreak, not on active assaults, infiltrations, etc. It's a work of fiction anyways. Suspension of disbelief will ensue at times, especially in Resident Evil. Thanks for the nit picks though, helps keep me on my toes, and glad you're enjoying it.

Easter Bunny: Much appreciated, rabbit.

Lordbrrt: If I get around to sequels, no promises, I would chronologically take this universe to Resident Evil 6 and end there. The way I see it, HUNK, along with some fellow former U.S.S. colleagues, is going to be one of Blue Umbrella's founders in 2007. Blue for Jill, her color, in her memory, after she is believed killed by Wesker, part of HUNK trying to make amends.

Thank you all for the reviews as ever. This one took me awhile, necessary, as the last chapter of the story, I wanted to make damn sure I got it right and was satisfied. Anyways, without further ado, here you go, folks, the grand finale, we had to get here eventually:

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October 11th, 1998, 2:23 PM

Entranceway, Official Residence Of Governor Alfred Ashford, Rockfort Island, South Pacific Ocean

"Ach... 'av you never tied a tie in your life? You can't go een zare looking like zat. Come 'ere... I will show you for ze millionth time..."

"Thing was strangling me."

"You don't 'old still, and I will strangle you, mon cher."

"Not if the sun kills me first. It's too damn hot for a suit."

"Something tells me you would not be complaining of ze sun een your full uniform and body armor. And on ze contrary... you are too damn 'ot een zat suit."

"Funny."

"Well now, one of us certainly must be, Mr Grumpy... now 'old still..."

"Very well. Make it quick."

"Afraid your friends and subordinates will see? 'urt your reputation? Let zem watch. I am certain zey all wish zey 'ad a beautiful, powerful woman on zare arm as well... zey will envy you further. I know you would rather go play than attend zis meeting... but you can later. Promise."

"It's not my... reputation... I'm concerned about..."

They stood together outside at the base of the white stone steps that led up to the front doors of the palace's main hall... which were flanked by a pair of armed U.S.S. Agents on guard duty. A couple of Barton's best, each standing near a couple of white stone pillars connected to the extravagant palace that was looming over all of them. Two of the many around the palace, some Barton's, others hand picked and trusted by Ashford personally. Ever cautious. They spoke low enough and stood just enough away from the guards that they hopefully didn't hear. He felt some measure of rare embarrassment, especially while holding her parasol for her so she could use two hands to fuss with his tie, like trying to tame a wild animal. This was the way she got on Rockfort Island towards him in front of the men... compared to back in France, where she remained her cool, aloof self when they were together in public. More careful on her home turf, instead of his. Here she felt more safe and secure, could be more herself... and was quite glad to be... even if it meant his peers and subordinates got to watch. Fueling the lurid stories that went around, no doubt. Still... it was at least a change of pace from how it had been with Lady Spencer. The only time they had been able to be intimate publicly was when they had dressed down to go on their dates around Europe and America, the concerts and movie theaters, restaurants... out of the far brighter spotlights that shone at Umbrella. Living the belated teenage and young adult life that her beloved father had stole from her when he had smothered her with her schooling, company duties and a marriage she had not wanted. At Umbrella, they had to be much more careful. Though... they obviously hadn't been entirely careful. Christine did not have such compunctions, as long as it was Rockfort Island, or one of the other remote Umbrella facilities. It was strange... but not entirely unpleasantly so. Here at least he didn't have to be what he was... a dirty little open secret of two renowned noble ladies of Umbrella, two powerful heiresses. Here on the island, he got a taste of acknowledgment... almost felt like he was a person in a genuine relationship with the Comtesse, instead of a secretive mockery of one.

Almost. He was no fool. Had learned that lesson the hard way.

He had enjoyed the view of seeing the island again from the skies, studying it, the various Umbrella vessels and civilian fishing vessels off it and the seaport connected to the topside and subterranean airport. Seeing the various villages and small towns scattered about the island. A population residing there between all the settlements in the several thousand range. His attention had quickly shifted off the Comtesse's droning and down there... to the island he was fondest of. Much more so than his occasional stays on Sheena Island. Unfortunately, there hadn't been much time for sight seeing of his old home when they touched down on the island, after the Humvee ride from her private jet at the airfield, over the marble bridge to the palace. They were here on business, as much as he wanted to look around. Especially the temptation to go see the old Military Training Facility. The B.O.W. testing chamber, that lie down within one of Ashford's subterranean facilities beneath the island, beneath the Military Training Facility. Where he had faced and defeated B.O.W.'s and the early Tyrants on a makeshift battlefield, sometimes with subordinates, sometimes solo. Under Vladimir's enraged eye and amid Ashford's girlish laughter. He remembered the ugly looks on the scientists as he'd sent them back to the drawing board. It had pleased him then, and it did so now. He would sooner avoid the meeting altogether and go there. Depending on how it turned out, he might get the chance another time. They had dealt with Nikolai already, at least. Agent Raval and some of his men who had joined them on the flight had transferred him, shackled as before, bag over his head and sedated, to the custody of the eerie, intense looking Doctor Enoch Herbert Stoker, an American, who had been waiting to greet them instead of Instructor Barton.

Though a number of Barton's subordinate agents had been present at the airfield, standing guard of the Comtesse's sleek, white private jet, along with the other assorted aircrafts including C-130's, attack and transport helicopters around, while the Harrier jets were stored on the subterranean level. Troops armed to the teeth around the hangars and in guard towers or patrolling the fencing, gates and aircraft control tower. Military vehicles driving about. Stoker had his own men... his guards and assistants, some of them had been there as well, all clad in their blood stained white lab coats and medical scrubs at standing there silently behind their leader. At once they had hauled Nikolai into the troop truck parked nearby and lowered the flap again. The Russian vanishing beyond them. The short, bespectacled, dark haired Stoker... often called Dr Death by the rookies, who joked the island wasn't big enough for two Grim Reapers, had smiled that fixed, false, cold smile of his that matched his dark eyes. Had thanked them with a faux kindness with a hand shake each, welcoming HUNK home, and promising to take good care of Nikolai. The guard dogs on the airfield had been barking at the scientist as he passed them, growling... or maybe they had been barking at HUNK. They tended not to like him either. Either way, the anatomist had vanished into the troop truck as well. Driving off the airfield and towards the distant, looming stone and concrete prison and surrounding heavily guarded concentration camp. Batshit crazy... not just Stoker, even if he was the worst of them, the whole lot of them were... the ones who ran that prison. More a laboratory and slaughterhouse than a prison... but a poetic justice for what Nikolai had tried to do. Even the Comtesse had scarcely repressed a shudder, and hadn't hid her expression of cool contempt, liking Stoker no more than HUNK ever had. An unpleasant fixture on the island, like Commander Ashford himself, who had hired him in the first place. Still, repugnant as the conditions of the camp and prison were... its staff... more an asylum from hell than anything else, he found himself looking forward to visiting Nikolai in it, when the time came.

Soon after the prisoner truck departed, HUNK had turned and given Raval the go ahead to visit his family in their village while he was back home on the island. That they would be likely staying for the day or two before returning to Paris. To make the most of it. Raval had smiled at him gratefully for that, thanking and appreciatively saluting him, a gesture he had returned. Before they could speak much further than that, the Comtesse had appeared at his side and she had dragged him to the awaiting dark military U.S.S. Humvee and taking a seat in the back, commanded the driver to take them straight here, amid the onlooking Umbrella personnel watching the pair of them. Or pretending not to be. He felt their eyes here the same as he did at the Paris Facility... and knew they murmured to each other when they went by. But he also received a number of salutes and familiar greetings from familiar faces in passing. It was good to be home, alright. The two security guard agents were armed with modified assault rifles and clad in the same dark grey uniforms and body armor as Raval's men here and in Paris. They stood at attention and gave no hint of interest or curiosity. At least not in front of them. Something told him they would have a story to tell when they were relieved and headed back to their barracks. Maybe it was better the Comtesse had dragged him here straight away, instead of sight seeing and catching up with all the others... the sooner they got business over with, the better. Still... he was distracted from her when he caught sight of the beach from here that lie to the west... the same section he had defeated Colonel Vladimir under War's watchful, pleased green eyes and amid the cheers of his fellow agents rooting him on. Where Ashford had watched from his balcony, also visible from this position, though he was not on it now. The same beach he had come to after Lady Spencer had left him that morning, watching the sun rise under the shadow of the palm trees and the sand. The shimmering, sapphire waters of the sea.

It was just another section of beach... one he now saw sweat soaked recruits jogging by in their shorts and shirts, on their drills around the island. Distant U.S.S. attack and transport helicopters visible out there in the skies as well, playing their part in the extensive training operations undertaken all around the island. The rookies put through their paces by Barton and the other Instructors. A small group of young men, rookies stopping, nudging one another and pointing at him and the Comtesse. Gawking at them. At least until one of the baton wielding Instructors came along to bark at them for stopping, striking one of them between the shoulder blades, and at once they continued their run. The familiar tall Instructor, a long time hardass and former Marine Corps Sergeant named Charles Hadley, among those selected by Lady Spencer before she had given command of the U.S.S. to Sir Maxwell, glanced at HUNK when they were gone and nodded with a trace of a smile. A respectful nod that went returned. As soon as it was the Instructor wandered off to mercilessly pursue some other rookies to menace. Instructors West and Urgayle, more tough as nails Sergeants, were probably already out there somewhere too, running the rookies on combat drills through the jungle. Both of them as tough as Hadley was on the recruits, if not worse. When Hadley vanished, HUNK was left studying the beach. The waves lapping up against the sandy shore. Just a section of beach... but it had been something more to him. This entire tropical island was. It was special to him, in a way nowhere else was. If he could only have one home, had to pick from one of the many he'd occupied, he was now standing in it at long last.

Back where someone like him belonged. Blemishes and all. All of them unfortunately created by its Governor.

The Comtesse continued fussing with his red tie... the warm tropical wind flitting against her summer fashion attire... a backless white silk blouse with crimson buttons up the front, exposing her shoulders, and a fine red skirt, pink designer sunglasses perched over her eyes, long formal white satin gloves. Silky, dirty blonde hair shifting about behind and around her in the breeze, windswept. Cherry red lipstick. She was perfectly done up of course, as she always was on trips and meetings, complete with makeup and her stylish white designer handbag slung over her shoulder. More supermodel than business woman, in that moment. It took her more time to get dressed than it did him to get fully armed up and uniformed before a mission for deployment. The whole of Alpha Team, for that matter. Especially for one of her parties the way she went all out... and even more so for one hosted at her castle. Still, at least she had deigned to skip a gown and fuss over her hair for hours, thanks to the windy, tropical weather. At last she stopped straightening out and adjusting the tie and letting it drop back against the black suit. Looking between it and him, sizing him up with a nod of satisfaction, full red lips smiling. Lovely, thick accented voice washing over him again.

"Zare we are. You can stop fussing. Much better. Presentation ese a weapon... zis suit ese your equipment, as much as your body armor and Matilda. Besides... Alfred likes eet. And een negotiations, even what seems ze simplest thing ze other party likes, can go a long way. Every advantage helps."

"Thought I was dressing this way for you. Why the hell would he like it?"

"For ze finest agent ze company 'as, 'aving worked with 'im before... known 'im for years... you are somewhat clueless with zese things, aren't you, mon cher?"

Her expression was all of a sudden rather incredulous and amused at the sight of his confusion. Something about what she was saying had slipped past him, but he wasn't sure what it was yet. What to make of it. Before he could say anything, ask further, she moved on smoothly. The question rhetorical, it seemed. She held out her dainty, white gloved hand, and he returned her red and white parasol to her at once. She took a moment to twirl it around a few times, rising it again to cast some more shade over them... that smile of hers deepening his way. Releasing a short giggle.

"Do not worry, mon amour. You won't 'av to suffer long. I will 'av you out of zat suit again. On ze flight back home. Perhaps sooner, eef you play your cards right..."

"Can't come soon enough."

"I want to touch zat one...", Her smile deepened, a cheeky look flitting across her pale features. "But eet would be simply too easy."

"Look at you, Princess. Full of naughty jokes today."

"Jokes? I am simply een a good mood. And you love eet. Now, without further ado... let us get zis over with. Ze sooner eet ese, ze sooner I can 'av you all to myself again."

"Never had much trouble sharing me before."

"For an evening and morning? Non. Alfred will want you around zis island far longer, I am certain."

"Rather be inspecting the facilities and agents right now, again... than meeting with him. Catching up with the others. Hitting the armory and training center. Or on the beach."

"Plenty of time for zat later... 'andsome. Patience. I may 'av brought my bikini... ze blue, white and red French flag one you like. And plenty of suntan lotion I could use some 'elp with applying. Consider zat an incentive to get through zis meeting. To humor Alfred. And eet already may not be so dreary as you fear."

"Not a bad incentive. But one of the more private sections of the beach for that would be best. Can't have you distracting the men from their drills, now can we?"

"Perish ze thought... much as a lady enjoys attention, having an effect... yours shall more than suffice."

"Lucky me. Speaking of thoughts... I didn't bring any swimming attire with me. You didn't tell me to."

"No... I didn't, did I?"

With a familiar titter of wry laughter, she wrapped her arm around his, tugging him forward up the stairs and to the doors, she looked back at him again with a naughty, knowing smirk. He merely rolled his eyes beneath his own sunglasses, and as he did she drew him onward past the guards. Reaching the doors one of the guards opened it for them at once, and they both stepped through... her closing and folding her parasol again under one arm and weaving her other arm through his as an escort. Removing her sunglasses when they got in out of the heat and sun, tucking them partially into a pocket on her blouse, ready to be drawn again in a hurry. An action he copied as they got out of the bright sun, blinking slowly, eyes adjusting to the more ambient lighting within. The doors closed behind them with an echo that carried throughout the hall, and the cool air within welcomely greeted them from the heat outside. The familiar great hall of Ashford's residence returned to HUNK, surrounding them... reminding him of the one at the Spencer Mansion. With various sections and corridors leading elsewhere in the palace, one off towards the dining hall. While there were differences from Spencer's layout, nothing about it had changed or been renovated since the last time he'd been in here. That was a switch, considering how many redesigns Ashford had put it through over the years. Never quite content with it. Carpenters and various engineers and architects had not been an uncommon sight in this hall or to be seen about the palace. The sounds of their tools working day and night. Though every iteration maintained at least a few omnipresent details. Impressive white stone columns positioned strategically around the main hall... a plethora of assorted statues, busts, tapestries and paintings of the uniformed Ashford... upstairs balconies... and the scarlet stairwell. Suits of steel knight armor as well, gleaming in the light.

HUNK wondered not for the first time what Ashford's private residence, where he truly lived, looked like in comparison to this place. It was exactly that... private. Neither himself, Comtesse Henri had ever gone there... never even bothered asking. And Lady Spencer had departed Rockfort Island by the time Ashford had had it constructed. He wondered if the two events were related. The two residencies were linked by a bridge over the valley beyond... a bridge with access available only to Ashford. HUNK doubted most of the staff even knew about it... and whatever engineers and architects he had used had probably never left the island again, if the stories were to be believed.

HUNK believed them.

There were more guards around the official residence than usual... and they all looked to HUNK and the Comtesse the moment they entered, her heels and his shoes tapping on the floor. As did the familiar older man sitting in the desk beside the bottom of the red banister and railing lined stairwell. Robert Dawson, the secretary, clad in his usual dark formal attire while working in the palace, looked up from his computer and drew back a bit from it, folding his hands on the desk and wearing an expectant look. Watching them approach and waiting patiently. The Comtesse drew HUNK down the red velvet carpet running over the floor and towards the front of his desk, the Englishman's voice washing over them as they drew near. Remaining seated behind it and looking at them through a pair of glasses with a polite expression.

"Director Henri... right on schedule. Governor Ashford was expecting you. The entire palace and staff are at your beck and call as ever, if you require anything."

"Well I should certainly 'ope so."

The Director sniffed, grip tightening on HUNK's arm when they came to a stop before Dawson's desk. She looked between the secretary and up to the balconies around the hall upstairs. Looking over the spacious interior of the hall. Impressive as it all was, it didn't compare to Spencer's properties or her castle, and he was certain she was thinking that exact same thing, much less kindly. Blue bloods... even those who were friends couldn't not compare themselves to one another. Want to have one up on the other in certain ways. Especially the two in question.

"I did not fly all this way for nothing, pencil pusher. I expect nothing less than the conditions I am accustomed to. The best."

"Charming as ever. Your reputation continues to do you little justice.", The secretary's smooth, diplomatic voice returned, studying the Director's frosty features with a slight smile, and yet what HUNK knew to be evident displeasure, before quickly moving his attention on. Eyes beneath the spectacles looking HUNK's way at once. Offering him a genuine warm smile that matched his tone. "Welcome back to Rockfort Island, Mr Reaper. I was glad to hear you survived Raccoon City, more or less intact. Hope you were planning to stick around here again."

"Thank you, Dawson. It's good to be back."

HUNK returned, meaning it, inclining his head when the secretary did in return, returning the man's faint smile. He couldn't say he knew the long suffering secretary well, but he had been working on the island for years. Unlike the Director at his side, who went through firing various secretary girls. Either over some trivial, petty matter or because she simply got bored of them. Inviting some of the more worthy girls to 'play' with them at the Chateau Henri now and again. To join them at one of her parties... as it had been with that spokeswoman actress whose name continued to elude HUNK. At any rate, he respected an employee with staying power, especially given who his boss was. Dawson had the patience of a Saint, the reason her act hadn't managed to phase him. The Comtesse at her worst was probably preferable to Ashford at his mildest. It was no wonder Dawson had deepening stress lines and his dark hair was graying a bit before its time. He had served the Ashford family for years, a retainer of theirs... as it was with servants and other employees of these nobles, careers handed down generation to generation. HUNK had met many of them in his time... especially the ones who served the Spencers. Though Dawson was no Patrick, where his relationship with Ashford was concerned. The Comtesse's eyes flickered between the two of them speculatively. Being more the stranger to the island than the rest of them, despite a few visits in the past. Most of the time her and Ashford had met up at one of his family estates in Europe, a visit to her estate, or they caught up at some party HUNK was dragged to.

"We'll see... depending on how this meeting goes. Where's Barton? Didn't greet us at the airfield. Thought he might be in here, as second in command."

"John's out running drills with a recently recruited batch of prospective agents. Runs a tight schedule, makes no exceptions apart from for the Commander. And Lord Ashford did not request his presence. You know best how well they get along anyways. He'll be here to attend dinner with you all this evening. I'm sure he'll want you to inspect the rookies as well while you're on the island, give your expert assessment."

"Sounds good. Certainly one way of getting reacquainted with this place. Some things never change."

"You might be surprised. The island only seems to be getting stranger since you left. The uh... people on it. I could tell you a few stories."

"I bet. Will take a rain check, for now. All goes well, I'll be around awhile."

"Of course, sir. But you've been through more than a fair bit more than the rest of us, in Raccoon City, I've heard. Tell me... was it true about that business with the gigantic mutated worm in the...-"

"Oh Dawson! Do stop hogging my guests' important time and send them up forthwith! Are you a secretary or not?"

A familiar English accent so posh it put QUARTERMASTER's to shame interrupted, calling down to them from the balcony above. All three of them looked up towards it at once... to find the island's Commander and Governor in one peering back down at them. 7th Earl of the House of Ashford. The blonde young man was perfectly groomed, every blonde hair in place... his somewhat girlish, smooth face permanently fixed haughtily... not a mask to be taken off like the one the Comtesse wore. He wore what he always did, in the painting looming over the hall... his fake military uniform... a red coat with gold trimming and embroidery, lined with false unearned medals, a white ascot and fine white trousers over a pair of black leather jackboots. A military school uniform at best... that he hadn't taken off in at least ten years since the first time HUNK had met the young Lord. Still wearing his pistol belt lined with glinting .445 rounds, and the holstered antique Webley Mark I double action revolver he had shown off to HUNK at that party that evening in the Arklay Mountains. Had even named Alexia, in memory of his late twin sister. Holding his impressive, bejeweled scepter in one white gloved hand, encrusted with a ruby at the head of it. Looking as though he had just been posing for yet another painting. Like the one looming over the main hall above the stairwell to the upstairs area. Looking like he was posing for another, really, standing up there like a statue. This afternoon he had even deigned to wear a a long flowing silk, crimson, embroidered cape. All in all, HUNK wouldn't be surprised if he put more time and effort into his dressing, grooming and presentation than even the Comtesse. The young aristocrat's posh voice washed over them again, echoing throughout the great hall.

"Christine, my dear! It has been far too long since we last met in person. I daresay I lose track of the time with my duties here."

"You'll just 'av to make it up to me, old friend. To us.", The Director smiled back up at him with a polite wave of her free hand, other arm remaining around HUNK's. "Hello again, Alfred. I 'av missed ze tropical weather."

"Not nearly as much as you missed yours truly, of course."

"That too."

"Well do hurry yourselves on up to my office then, don't let my secretary keep you dawdling! We have much of importance to discuss!"

Alfred Alexander Ashford returned with a smile of his own, turning excitedly on a jackboot and with a twirl of his scepter and swish of his cape, striding away from the balcony and towards his office door. Though he quickly paused in front of it, in front of the open door. Unlike the lower guard filled level, there was not a single guard standing watch outside it. He dwell up there on his own... ever seeking his own privacy, even when in his official residence and not his private one. One of the few things HUNK respected about the strange young man. The ability to keep to one's self for awhile was an increasing rarity in the world. Or at least in his world. The Governor stopped and turned to look back down at them another time, though. Expression thoughtful, intrigued, and looking over the agent below.

"Oh... and Agent HUNK... it's so nice to see you in one piece and home again. Where you belong. I like the new suit."

"Uh... thank you, sir. Nice cape."

"You know me, I always dress for the occasion."

Smile remaining as broad as before, the Earl of House Ashford giggled to himself with that familiar, girlish little laugh, and turned again. Striding back out of sight through his office door. HUNK and the Comtesse looked back at one another for a moment... and she smiled in a way that told him he was going to hear about it very soon. They looked to the weary, obviously overworked man behind the desk, who made a defeated gesture towards the stairwell.

"Go right ahead. He's waiting for you. Clearly.", The secretary all but grimaced, looking back at HUNK sympathetically. "It's been one of his good days, so far."

"Thank you, Dawson.", The Comtesse addressed to the man coolly, before pulling the agent with her to the foot of the red velvet carpeted stairs. "Come, Special Agent HUNK. This way."

"Was good to see you again, Dawson."

"You too, sir. Do enjoy your stay. Good luck. You're going to need it."

Her arm tightened through his as she led him to the stairwell, the secretary casting HUNK what he was certain to be a parting, sympathetic, pitying look. Far from the first time he'd seen one like it... in Comtesse Henri's presence, and back when he had been with Lady Spencer now and again. It was always the staff and servants of these nobles who seemed to understand best. To sympathize with him and the position he was in. But then, that made sense... he was a servant no less than them, when it came right down to it. Merely one who slept with the Lady of the estate, and carried out her deadly bidding abroad. A far more dangerous job than theirs. The other servants had never really said much about it... but he could tell they had cared, in their subtle looks and sympathy towards him. How well they had treated him. Knowing what was going on. Some things never changed. Still, he appreciated it... it was more genuine care than he was normally used to. In a usually cold and indifferent world. They ascended the stairwell at last, and as they neared the first flight, before turning to the left and ascending the second, she leaned in close, her accented voice a triumphant whisper for him alone. Right on cue.

"Told you about Alfred and zat suit, didn't I?"

"Guess so."

She laughed under her breath, pale features beaming from ear to ear. Together they ascended the second flight and up to the balcony area. Passing a number of other offices and rooms along the way. One of them familiar, giving him pause... and she looked at him with concern. Fresh memory returning to mind. The room that had been theirs... when they had stayed here. His and Lady Spencer's. Where he had woken the morning after she abandoned him. His jaw tightened at the memory... memories... before remembering himself, and he shook his head, continuing them on without answering her evidently curious gaze. They turned off towards the balcony Ashford had stood upon, and continued on. They reached the door to his office, left ajar for them... and the two slipped within together. The moment they entered, HUNK and the Comtesse took a long moment to look around the impressive furnishings and spacious interior that greeted them. The office... just as he remembered it. Complete with elaborate couches, chairs, filled book shelves... a fireplace... his ever faithful and familiar, scoped, laser sight equipped, bolt action MR7 Sniper Rifle hanging over it, along with a number of antique firearms scattered about the room. And more paintings, endless paintings and sculptures, most of them of himself... others of his military interests. Notorious English historical figures he looked up to and aspired to be like, including Edward I, Henry VIII and especially Lord Protector Oliver Cromwell. Exemplified by his own private little dictatorship on the island disguised as a governorship. The island was ultimately a mere playground to a blue blood who had never really grown up. His haphazard management had always been self evident... Goldman had the much better management track record over on Sheena Island... but Lord Spencer had been strangely fond of the young Ashford, in a way Lady Spencer had never been. He remembered the discussions they'd had about Ashford, when his governorship of the island had been given to him. Given her Scottish heritage, she had been no fan of Edward I, he recalled, among other historical figures of Europe she and Ashford had argued about over their evening meals on Rockfort Island. A distinguished Lady and young upstart Lord, while some commoner young man had been present in the dining hall with them. Many a debate HUNK had heard pass between the two.

He had weighed in now and again when prompted by either side... though tried to focus on his meals, staying as far out of it as often as he could. Which wasn't very often, being right there in the middle. He'd admired his own historical figures, but preferred keeping to himself, not risking adding more fuel to the arguments, be them of history or of politics, current and past. About the only certain common ground in those debates the three of them had shared had been their thoughts on firearms, Communism and the unfortunate nations it had infected.

Lady Spencer had advised her father against Ashford's appointment as Commander... informing him of Ashford's obvious instabilities, but that had been around the time they had started to quarrel. Likely Lord Spencer had never perceived Ashford as the threat his grandfather and possibly father had been. Clearly inferior to them, and useful for Umbrella's interests, hence often giving him senior positions, but without much authority and power. He made for a good possible future fall guy, if it came down to it, as Morpheus Duvall had been. Though he held a great deal more respect for Duvall than he ever had for Ashford. Ashford had read all the same books HUNK had while being taught by Lady Spencer, without getting out into the world and experiencing the grime of war. Staining his own hands. Too high above it to be effected by any of it. Preferred living in a fantasy, and forcing those in his thrall to participate in them. Lording over the villages and towns, citizens, prisoners and the agents stationed on the island alike. Somehow, in spite of Ashford, the conflicted memories of Lady Spencer here... HUNK was still glad to be back. He still wished he could have gone with Valentine... the better man he might have been would have. The man he wished he was. But this was him. The Grim Reaper. Hanging up his cloak and scythe here. Home. The Comtesse did not look particularly impressed with the surroundings, observing it all with a vague interest at best. Clearly it still wasn't to her tastes, compared to how her own office was setup, and the superior architecture, sculptures and paintings of the Chateau Henri. More than once he'd had to listen to her complaints about rival nobles, the inferiority of their homes compared to hers. It was little wonder it came so easily to her to wear an icy mask in public most of the time. Likely all she had to do was harness her distaste for her rival aristocrats. Not that Ashford gave her distaste like the others... quite the opposite. Where Ashford and Lady Spencer had not gotten along, him and the Comtesse were two peas in a pod, always had been. Just with one being French and the other English, both having sizable egos and with a vested interest in playing tug of war over him, they were liable to argue now and again.

Still, Ashford seemed more a relative of hers than any of the rest of the Henri Family was to her, it sometimes seemed.

"Come in, come in. No need to hide. I don't bite... unless asked to, of course."

Ashford called down at them from behind the desk, redrawing both of their focus down towards the north end of the office. He sat comfortably in his chair looking back at them, scepter lying atop the desk beside his off to the side computer monitor and intercom microphone connected to loudspeakers all over the palace and island. Hand risen, beckoning them forward with a simple gesture. A King sitting proudly in his own domain.

"Right down here. My office is your office. And kindly close the door behind you, would you? I would so hate for us to be interrupted by Dawson's nonsense."

"Dawson certainly 'as quite ze attitude on 'im. You should discipline 'im more. Servants and employees tend to get zat way after awhile. Lippy. I 'av 'ad to go through a number of zem, secretaries especially."

"Yes... I've been considering having him placed in a pillory or publicly flogged. Whipping the insolence out of him. It certainly has worked wonders on the unruly, common village boys. Old fashioned methods work. Removing the hands of thieves discourages the others. You know Prince Vlad Tepes kept his nation so well in hand he placed a golden cup at a fountain in the center of Wallachia. Anyone could drink from it, nobody could steal it. You can bet it stayed right where it was for his entire rule. Corporal punishment and humiliation are sure ways to correct such bad behavior. Executions even more so."

"Spare ze rod, spoil ze child. My father was a firm believer in zat as well. Abided no impertinence from others. Least of all 'is staff. Neither do I."

"Precisely."

The two shared a titter of laughter at their agreement, while HUNK remained silent, jaw tightening uncomfortably at their upper class exchange. Neither of them seeing anything wrong with what they had said, talking about a grown man older than either of them the way they were. The disrespect to a hard working employee, considering him the child. It was nothing new from either of them, spoiled rotten blue bloods who felt they could talk freely of corporal punishment and discipline, executions... never having been on the receiving end of any of it. Only the dealing end... through others, instead of by their own hands. And HUNK recalled exactly that, the punishments the Governor had put the locals through, remembering witnessing stockades and whippings alike. Dismemberment, the guillotine, hangings, the odd impalement at the concentration camp. Especially after Lady Spencer had departed from Umbrella, and by extension the island. It had only accelerated then... Ashford had kept Stoker on a very short leash with her around, and the moment she had left, unchained the anatomist. Even if on paper he was the ruler of Rockfort Island, and as inept as he was, he had never been stupid enough to try to cross her when she had been around. Always on his best behavior, even in the midst of their evening debates and many disagreements. Trading only veiled barbs between one another. Rockfort Island was indeed a land trapped in a glass bottle of the past. But then many savage places HUNK had been to were, especially Africa and the Middle East... where he had seen it up close on an even greater scale. Wholesale butchery. Every war crime in the books. The world turning a blind eye to it. What was one more little island where people endured barbarity and oppression? It wasn't special or different just because it was in South America. It was simply the human condition, and not his problem to remedy. Distaste for Ashford or otherwise. He was no hero or fighter of corruption or hypocrisy, as Jill and Carlos were. He was a part of it. Culpable. Molded and empowered by it. Providing him his bloody skills and his career. With another shared look, at the Comtesse's grip on his arm, HUNK closed the door behind them, and together they crossed the room at last... black leather shoes and red high heels tapping over the floor.

Rising up from behind his desk, Ashford moved around to the front of it to greet them warmly. Taking the Comtesse's offered gloved hand in an expected, familiar ritual when they reached the desk. Raising the back of it to his lips, kissing it softly and meeting her eyes.

"Enchante as ever, Comtesse Henri. So good to see you again."

"Ze pleasure ese my own, Earl Ashford.", The Comtesse smiling back at her fellow noble and long time friend as he released her hand. Taking a moment to curtsy to him in her ever regal manner, before speaking again. "Perhaps we should 'av come down 'ere again sooner. Zat secretary notwithstanding..."

"I believe so... but better later than never. Forget about Dawson... there are more important matters, now. Such as HUNK... home again at last, where you should be. This place has sorely missed you in your absence, as have I. Though you know what they say about absence and fondness. Perhaps now we can make this place more productive, between the three of us."

The Commander of Rockfort Island turned his attention at once to the agent, looking thoroughly pleased to see the man, outright beaming. He held out his white gloved hand to HUNK in offering and the agent took it, shaking it firmly, the silver ring with a glistening sapphire embedded in it perched on Ashford's middle finger rubbing against his flesh. While the Comtesse shot Ashford a warning look at his words. Which the Earl corrected at once with visible amusement. At the same time HUNK felt the Commander slowly and gently rubbing the back of his hand with his thumb, smiling that warm, wide smile at him. Knowing blue eyes. To the agent's sudden bemusement and discomfort, though not letting it show on the surface to the younger man or Comtesse.

"Not that Loire Village is not without its own sorts of pleasantries, of course, Lady Henri."

"Zat's better."

"Hello, Commander Ashford."

"Oh please... how many years have we known each other now, HUNK? Surely we can drop the formalities and titles by now. Call me Alfred."

"Of course, sir."

"Did you hear the latest dreadful news on the wire?"

"Haven't looked too much at the news, sir. What happened?"

"The Marxist sympathizing Garzón indicted Augusto with an international warrant, the fools in London will almost certainly place him under house arrest soon. Vladimir must be giddy right now, or will be when he finds out. Apparently saving your country from the scourge of Communism is an international crime these days. And arresting a modern day hero is more important than investigating their own country's institutionalized grooming, rape and abuse of children."

"British priorities for you. Sir."

"Come now, don't tell me your dear Comtess has finally converted you to the French side of things!" Commander Ashford gasped dramatically at once, with all the air of faux, wounded indignation, as the Comtesse rolled her eyes openly, unable to hide her smirk at his dramatics. "Say it isn't so! Oh Americans... you always were drawn in by Marianne's bosom. Never quite understood Lady Liberty's appeal, myself."

"Can you really blame Americans for zare good taste, dear Alfred? Eet ese 'ardly a crime."

"I can certainly try, dear Christine. Though next you will tell me you have this poor fellow consuming fried frog legs."

"No offense intended, sir. Both nations have their impressive history. And pros and cons."

"Mmm. None taken in the slightest, my good man. We are one on this, as we are on firearms ownership. My country is not nearly what it used to be... surrendered its testicles long ago. I cannot pretend otherwise. Most recently, giving away Hong Kong to the illegitimate Communists of Beijing, instead of arguing the deal was made with the Qing Dynasty. The island will surely pay the price for Parliament's weakness, in time. Especially since it gave away its empire on a silver platter. At any rate, with luck Augusto will beat the charges yet. If one way helicopter rides for Communist terrorists is wrong, then I don't want to be right. Free ride, cushy seats, hell of an ocean view... what are they complaining so loudly about? Do they not enjoy free things?"

HUNK merely nodded in agreement, though payed less attention on what the Governor was saying, and more on what he was doing. Or not doing. Ashford still hadn't released his hand. His jaw tightening as the handshake remained, including the thumb stroking... until HUNK at last managed to politely pry his grip out of Ashford's, lowering it back down to his side, retreating back a bit to the Comtesse's side. Looking between the two of them with a veiled smirk, the Comtesse spoke up again to the Earl, brow raising his way. With mock sternness, wagging a finger in his direction, tutting reproachfully.

"No need to lay eet on quite so thick, Alfred. Better be careful with ze niceties. I 'av done a pretty good job making him feel at home een France. You'll 'av to 'av quite ze offer to convince me, and him, to alter our present arrangement."

"That is precisely why I asked you both here so promptly... before our mutual friend here has even fully healed. And you would not have accepted unless you were interested in what I had to say... to offer. Take your seats and get settled in comfortably. There is no need to stand on ceremony here. I daresay there have been enough delays already."

On that amused note, Ashford turned on his jackboot and strode back around the desk. Settling down comfortably in his chair again, looking over the surface of it between them and raising a hand, gesturing to it encouragingly. Releasing HUNK's arm, the Comtesse did the same, taking one of the two seats in front of the desk... with the agent following suit. Christine setting her handbag on the surface of the desk and laying her parasol comfortably across her lap. Folding her hands together over her midsection in her familiar regal fashion. Once they had settled in, Ashford's posh voice resumed as though he had not gone quiet, settling his hands on the desk and intertwining them together, looking across it between them.

"The flight down went pleasantly, I should hope?"

"Eet did. Thank you, Alfred. And thank you for 'aving your people ready to pick up our prisoner immediately."

"Oh details details. What is one more prisoner for the good Doctor Stoker? He does so enjoy his work... and the more for him to indulge in the merrier.", Ashford returned with a wave of his hand her way as though it were of no account. Smile deepening faintly. In a way HUNK was quite familiar with by now. "And Nikolai at that. The famous "Silver Wolf". You did good work on him already, HUNK, from what I've heard. I had been rather hoping he would end up here. I'll pay him a visit later. I'll find some use for him, I'm sure. No shortage of work to be done around here. I'll be sure to inform Enoch not to be as hasty with him as the others. No sense in letting him off easily or quickly through the guillotine, lovely a sight as flying Soviet heads are. Besides... I have questions."

"Yes, your 'Dr Death' met us at ze airfield the moment we landed, along with his attendants. Seemed rather eager to get 'is 'ands on Nikolai. Wherever in ze world did you find such an enthusiastic anatomist?"

"You are hardly the only one with connections, my dear Christine. That man likes to get a head start on his work. I so appreciate employees who enjoy what they do... whose talents align with my own desires... well you of all people would know, having your own personal Grim Reaper on hand. Though what yours lacks in a doctorate, he certainly makes up for in natural talent... isn't that right, HUNK?"

The U.S.S. Agent muttered a non committal agreement. Another giggle of laughter emerged at that from Asgford... but HUNK felt himself growing distant from the exchange. Already, HUNK almost felt sorry for Nikolai, joining the prison anatomist's many locked up subjects. Almost. Remembering the hospital, Dead Factory's treatment room door and the rooftop, he smothered the pang of sympathy. He would get what had been coming to him for a long time. As they all would. There was a certain poetic justice for one madman to be under the thrall and lack of mercy of another. If only Wesker and Vladimir could share a cell with him. Among others. Ashford withdrew a decanter from within his desk drawer, setting it down on the surface. Reaching for the glasses, he looked back up to them. Eyes swiveling between each.

"Would either of you care for a drink of rum? I know I could use one before we begin."

"I would. It was a long flight.", She inclined her head as the Governor poured her a glass, passing it across the desk to her. She took it up at once, raising it to her red lips with a smile and nod. "Thank you very much, Alfred."

"HUNK?"

"No thank you, sir."

"Of course... you are on duty. The consummate professional in all avenues. I wish I lived up to your sterling example better."

The young nobleman smiled a little guiltily, pouring himself a glass, leaving the decanter on the table. Drawing a sip, he made an appreciative sound, savoring the beverage. Looking somewhere over both of them, considering his words for a long moment. When he found them, he pressed forward, looking to the pair in front of him.

"Now... getting down to the most pressing aspect of this meeting, and business. I have received reports of infiltrations on Rockfort Island... in the rank and file. I have reason to suspect spies from our enemies are leaking information as well... I have worked zealously to prevent such leaks... but I can only do so much without help. I require both of your expertise, resources and assistance in this matter."

Spies? On Rockfort Island? HUNK was startled by the revelation, but kept it from showing. The security gaps must have been widening, under Ashford's haphazard rule. Wesker had informed him there were spies on the Leviathan, but he had not thought them to be on Rockfort Island. Were they his, or another party's? He exchanged a concerned glance with the Comtesse, who nodded in understanding. Before asking the questions of Ashford that HUNK would have.

"Infiltrated? By whom? Ze United States Government? Ze Family? Tricell?"

"A rival company, most likely... I am presently unsure which. Perhaps a new player... I do not have exact specifics yet, but there are patterns. I believe they have contracted an independent paramilitary force into their employ. Elite agents for hire, mercenaries with a command structure... a PMC of sorts. Emphasis on the private. One so covert it doesn't show up on any official records. Likely they operate through proxy global businesses, and the underground. Black market weaponry. Transmissions I have been shown by my contacts refer to them as the 'Hive Capture Force'. Fitting enough name... for a would be army of drones who would steal what is mine."

"Workers would be more accurate. Drones just mate with the Queen. Sir."

"Ah. Is that right? Must have missed that factoid in my studies. Forgotten. Thank you, HUNK. You would certainly know better on such a matter than I. Still... I like the term anyways. Sounds better. My best analysts theorize them an equivalent of our own Umbrella Security Service. Special forces. We do not have a military strength assessment of personnel, the number of drones to their swarm, nor what weaponry, vehicles and technology they have at their disposal. Aircraft or vessels, if any. Nor do we know who their leader is, the Queen, if you will, their command structure... where they come from... only that they have eyes on Rockfort Island. My facilities here. On the company."

The Comtesse calmly sipped some more of her rum, her pale, businesswoman mask giving little away. Though he had the sense that the matter troubled her. As it did him. An army... was this the one Wesker had been referring to? Was building behind the scenes? Or was there something deeper at play? Something worse? In the midst of his consideration, she spoke up again at last to Ashford.

"Does Oswell know about this infiltration?"

"Of course not. No sense worrying a diminishing old man further, especially so soon after Raccoon City. I daresay this company will outlive Spencer anyways, if news of his worsening ailments are correct. And if we do this right. And will soon require new leadership."

"You haven't brought any of this to Colonel Vladimir's attention either?"

"So he can brush it aside? Whatever the man once was, he is a bureaucrat through and through now. Scheming and calculating... trying to steal the company out from under Spencer. Or he would bring it to Spencer directly. His loyalty is only to the idea of Umbrella, his Umbrella... not the company itself. Its potential and future. Besides, this is my property and territory, and that of my family, not Vladimir's. This is also a matter that requires a real soldier's response, not Monitors. Commissars by any other name. Eh, HUNK?"

The Earl flashed the agent a knowing wink, and HUNK merely nodded stiffly. Vladimir, despite everything else he was, was more of a soldier than the Earl would ever pretend to be. And was an actual soldier, with an official service record, unlike HUNK. That much couldn't be denied... as much as Ashford seemed to enjoy doing so. HUNK was honest about it with himself, little as he liked it. Ashford went on again as though he had not stopped.

"This is our chance to preserve the company... let Sergei have his fun with the Red and White Queens and whatever else Spencer has him up to in the Caucasus. In the meantime, while he is distracted, we shall take the initiative of securing Umbrella's future on our own. We'll smoke out this hive of theirs ourselves. Along with whichever company has hired them. Put an end to each. Rest assured."

"What would you need me for in this arrangement, sir?", HUNK spoke up to the Governor at last, tone and manner cool. Not giving anything away to the noble. Apart from curiosity. "Quite a few things, I take it?"

"To put it mildly. I would need you to help me root out the spies and traitors in our ranks. Interrogate them. To find out how deep this goes as well, and who our enemies are. Where they are. And if possible, strike at them where they live. Your loyalty to the company is beyond all possible reproach. I trust you... both of you... completely. Elsewise I would not have come to you with hat in hand. I certainly cannot count on Barton alone with this matter, it was under his haphazard 'security' that this infiltration was allowed to take place. I already suspect him to be the ring leader."

His manner and tone was amused and relaxed, in spite of the haughtiness in the accusation of the island's right hand man. HUNK was mostly certain Ashford was full of shit and knew it, scapegoating Barton, a man he'd never liked, who had been nothing but loyal to Umbrella and the U.S.S. Had been selected by Lady Spencer, with Ashford unable to overrule her decision. Likely he wanted to use this infiltration as a pretext to finally get rid of him, had been hoping for the chance for years. HUNK would not allow that to happen. Ashford leaned back in his seat, taking another drink. The Comtesse remained silent for the moment, looking with interest between the agent and the island's commander. Finally, HUNK went on first.

"Would there be anything else, sir?"

"Oh an assassination here, a kidnapping there, a package delivery now and again. Solo or with a team, depending on the circumstances of the mission. Details, really. Don't worry, no more colossal mutated worms to combat. As amazing a show as that would prove, like the one before it. Though it just so happens there is a B.O.W. project my scientists happen to be working on for U.S.S. training, code named "Gulp Worm"... still in the prototype phase of course. If you are interested... ah. But I digress."

Ashford flashed a ghost of a knowing smirk at him, and to the Comtesse. While the Comtesse smiled as well, HUNK did not respond, did not rise to the obvious bait. Somehow getting the feeling the Gulp Worm was no coincidence. That the planning for the B.O.W. had only began as recently as Ashford having seen the footage of the graveyard battle on the very computer on that desk of his. It would be just like him, from past experience. The Earl went on, taking another drink.

"At any rate, you'll be free to pursue any other assignments Sir Maxwell requires you for... in the wake of Raccoon City you are about to be a very busy man, I expect. We all are. We would work in conjunction with U.S.S. Command and the Leviathan... but overall you would fall under our command. I have something of a growing laundry list on hand for assignments that might interest you."

"I would need to assemble a team. Smaller than my last one, but efficient. Specialists. No more rookies. I'd need the best at my command. People I can trust. Agent LesProux and her new Delta Team would be a good start. VECTOR, BERTHA, SPECTRE, BELTWAY, FOUR EYES. NULL as well, among others. Already started researching potential Alpha Team candidates."

"Ah... the U.S.S.'s top dog wants to adopt the Wolf Pack. Imagine that. We would ensure you get them, and anyone else, whoever they might be.", Commander Ashford assured him with another smile and effeminate laugh. Gesturing the way of his French counterpart. "I'm sure myself and the Comtesse would spare no expense in the matter."

"When 'av I ever? Especially upon 'im. Worth every penny."

"Here here. Nothing quite like a sure investment."

Ashford and Henri traded a knowing smile at that, while HUNK was silent again at the offer, the details he had been provided with, considering it over. As he did, Ashford spoke again, redirecting his attention back to the Comtesse. Continuing on as confidently and assured as before.

"And that's not nearly all the arrangement would entail. Comtesse, I am prepared for a joint venture between our facilities. Once the spies are rooted out, you and your scientists may make use of Rockfort Island's labs as you see fit. A cooperation of manpower and scientific minds. With that Golgotha sample of yours so magnificently recovered, you might well be better served experimenting with it over here as well. I have maintained the island's facilities to be state of the art... to rival your own. I simply, regrettably, lack Loire Village and Paris quality scientists. And you can bring over anything you want to boost my properties further. Security will be a non issue."

"Why here and not your family's Antarctic facility? Wouldn't it be safer? Less risk of exposure to people outside the facility? Less of a chance of infiltration by this rival company or the H.C.F.?"

"Too remote and untrustworthy.", The Earl returned to her at once evasively, taking another drink. Releasing a weary breath and going on. Feigning a smile. "I trust my staff here more than the men and women there. I have been somewhat... remiss... with that facility, I admit. It would take a great deal of wasted time and resources to get it up and running properly again in the required capacity. The sooner we start here the better."

"What about DEN?", The Comtesse pressed on without hesitation, large blue eyes studying Ashford closely. Analyzing his reactions, HUNK knew. Poking and prodding and testing him for his reactions. He had seen her do it countless times to friends and rivals alike. "Only a couple 'undred miles north of your Antarctic facility. Safe. Secure. If I were to request eet from Oswell, he might be willing to lend us ze facility."

"DEN? Spencer's spite project? Pish posh! Built only for vanity, a failed attempt to surpass my own family's facility on that continent. He never could get over my grandfather beating him to it. Having the vision to establish his presence there. To seize a secluded land for the noble House of Ashford."

Ashford waved a dismissive hand the Comtesse's way and took another deep drink of his rum... haughty face looking visibly and genuinely irritated at the mention of the more advanced, state of the art facility than his Antarctic base. At the overshadowed prestige of his family name, most likely. A sore subject to him. He wasn't wrong... HUNK remembered what Bella had told him of DEN, her father's reasons for establishing it in the early 70's. Raising his middle finger at the Ashfords had been at least one of them. A shot across the bow aimed their way to toe the line, remind them who was really running things at Umbrella. Spencer had almost certainly had Edward Ashford assassinated... made it look like a lab accident... perhaps even Alexander Ashford in '83, with the way he had suddenly disappeared. Maybe even Alexia Ashford... yet another mysterious disappearance in the Ashford Family. Likely Alfred knew the truth of the three one way or another, but had never spoken of it. Especially not about Alexia. Kept a number of his own secrets, clearly. No assassination of the Ashfords had been carried out by HUNK's hand, at least... though he wondered if it had been Bella who pulled the trigger, or her orders, as it had been her orders with him and Marcus. He'd never had the nerve to ask her for the truth of what happened to the Ashfords. He had the feeling she had been fond of Edward Ashford in a way she wasn't of his grandson, the way she had spoken of him. Like a long lost grandfather, almost. Though she had told him her time working at the Spencer Antarctic Facility had been where she chose her codename, DEN MOTHER. The Commander took another drink... visibly reigning himself in after the slight outburst. Continuing in a cool, collected tone to the Comtesse.

"The DEN facility simply cannot be counted upon. They have their own ongoing experiments, and prefer to remain secluded from the day to day affairs of the company. They wouldn't notice anything was amiss with Umbrella until the supply shipments, employees and subjects stopped coming. Likely there would be no available labs anyways... and even if there were, the last thing we want is them stealing our progress and results for their own. And if you take this proposition to Spencer, Vladimir will find out inevitably. Butt in on it and make this his own, like the Bolshevik thief he is. Hence trying to sabotage HUNK and find the G-Virus with one of his genetic freak sons. The new Caucasus Facility will not tide over his appetite for very long either, especially after his failure with the G-Virus."

HUNK could tell how hard the Earl was trying to restrain himself at the exchange. His distaste for Spencer and Vladimir. It was one more of the few things HUNK respected him for... even if it was born of his own twisted vanity. Not unlike Spencer and Vladimir. It was entirely possible Ashford hated them as much as he did... or even more so. About now he was half surprised the man didn't take the sniper rifle hanging over the fireplace and shoot targets on the beach from out on his balcony to sooth himself. As he had always been like to do now and again.

Live targets or otherwise. The prisoners who didn't make it into Doctor Stoker's hands. Followed by the guillotine when the anatomist was finally done with them.

The lucky ones.

"Enough about the Antarctic Branch. Rockfort Island, Loire Village and Paris would be the perfect union for this venture. We each have military and scientific assets. Many resources. Any threat of infiltators or spies will be rooted out with Agent HUNK's invaluable assistance.", Ashford went on as smoothly as he could, leaning a bit forward in his seat towards his French counterpart. Studying her controlled features carefully. The faintest smile touching his lips as he drove his argument, his proposition, home. "Furthermore there is no shortage of test subjects to be had here. Much easier to scrounge up than in Paris. Would you have me believe the French Government has not made anything difficult, with all the red flags your activities raise?"

The Earl Ashford looked thoroughly pleased with himself at that. Tipping his hand just a bit more to the Comtesse. It was true, and they all knew it. She had complained to HUNK often and loudly at the estate about interference from the French Government. She thoroughly despised it... and gradually the political entity was coming down harder. She had been able to easily buy off any EU and UN meddling for the time being, but the former was more troublesome to navigate. Likely would even harder, in the wake of Raccoon City. Clamping down tighter. It was a weak spot that the Director did her utmost to disguise... but one it seemed that hadn't slipped by Ashford and his sources.

"Yes... they have. Some days, I'm half expecting them to drop paratroopers on my village. It is an increasingly difficult, frustrating position." The Comtesse conceded at last with a respectful inclination of her head. If an irritated sort of respect, taking another drink. She was not fond of admitting any sort of weakness to others, save himself. Though the fact she had even admitted it spoke volumes to her fondness of Ashford. She would sooner die than say it to most. "You've done your homework well, Alfred. Test subjects 'av been increasingly difficult to come by. Too many prisoner movements at Loire Village would draw up suspicions. 'ere at Rockfort Island we could 'av a steady supply from 'ere and all over the world, easy to ship and fly in... and no questions asked by government officials."

"Precisely. Just the respite you require. Not only that... there was another particular matter as well that might correspond in your favor... should we three align and draw together more... closely."

"And what might zat be, mon chere Alfred?"

"My primary contact in the Umbrella Intelligence Division, Alex, has informed me of an unexpected development. My other contacts there affirm her findings. The Birkins offspring has survived Raccoon City, and is in government custody. Though I cannot for the life of me remember the child's name just now."

"Sherry."

HUNK heard his voice correct the Earl automatically. The sudden revelation startling him more than the news about Rockfort Island's infiltration had. The threat of some hostile looming force known as the H.C.F. Both Henri and Ashford instantly looked his way. Henri with curiosity, Ashford with mild interest, shrugging his shoulders, rubbing his smooth chin thoughtfully. Expression growing a bit distant.

"Yes... that must be it. A plain American name... rather like the brat's common American mother. I recall her scowling sourly at me the first time I met her, that lovely evening at the Spencer Mansion. I had been polite to one of my lessers and everything, and still she dared to look down her nose at her superior. Perhaps she was taking her frustration out on me that her husband was more interested in Albert's company. I could hardly blame him there. I daresay William could have done a great deal better than her. Alas... we cannot help who catches our fancy..."

"She shared her husband's fate. Deserved it no less than him."

"Quite right. What was her name again?"

"Annette.

"Annette ese a French name, Alfred. Even eef she was indeed a commoner, unfit to be among us."

"Cut me some slack about France for once, will you my dear?"

"How did she make it out of Raccoon City, sir?"

"Whom? William's wife? In an ash heap, I presume. Like everything else in that cesspool."

"The girl. Sherry. How did she escape from Raccoon City?"

"Oh yes. The girl. Some amateur police officer named Kennedy did it. He was offered a position with Benford in the Division of Security Operations. Some new task force Benford is bringing up against Umbrella. Word is he has accepted it. That's the federal government for you... they'll hire anyone these days. There is a bit of cleverness in such. Give the weak a scrap of power and watch them fall over themselves eagerly to oppress and abuse their fellows. A certain insidious beauty to it."

Ashford laughed effeminately at that again, taking another drink... though HUNK's mind was far away elsewhere. Back at the police station... where he had first seen her. Standing outside the door to the S.T.A.R.S. Office. Jill holding her in a comforting embrace. And the fear and recognition in the girl's tear filled eyes when she saw him. The way she had fled. He had given her up for dead... privately accepted responsibility for that... had left her out of his report. Now she appeared as she had at that station... from nowhere, reminding him of his guilt and complicity. As for Kennedy, HUNK knew what a Raccoon City cop was capable of, by now, having seen it first hand. He was glad the rookie had salvaged something... someone from the devastation of the city. Had done what he hadn't, for the girl. More than anyone in her life ever had. Before he could think to say anything, the Earl went on as before.

"At any rate, it appears the President's adviser Derek Simmons has taken a liking to the girl. Adopted her, brought her to his seaside family estate in Tall Oaks. She is under constant security from a small army of federal government agents. Benford's men. Tax payer funded, of course. The Umbrella Intelligence Division has a man on the inside named Fabron keeping tabs, assisting in her security, unbeknownst to all."

Simmons. Of course. He remembered what Wesker had told him on the phone. His failure to keep an asset out of Simmons hands. A test subject. It had been her all along. Wesker had been rubbing it in his face... or tipping him off for some reason unknown... probably both. More and more... things were looping back around to Simmons. So... the rookie Kennedy had failed in the end. All he had managed to do was deliver the girl straight to the Family on a silver platter... and was now a tool of theirs in turning agent, taking Benford's offer. Serving the rot in the U.S. Government. The corrupt feds. Unwittingly, no doubt... young and stupid, naive and idealistic... but when had ignorance ever been a valid excuse for a rookie? It hadn't been for him. Did not excuse the things he had done in his blissful ignorance on Lady Spencer's behalf. His head stuck in the clouds of love. If it even had been love. And Daniel Fabron... one of the U.I.D.'s best operatives was on site, keeping tabs on the girl. It figured. If anyone could get close to Simmons without his knowing about it, it was the French spy. Fluent in many languages and able to affect their accents perfectly. A master of disguise. Able to blend in anywhere he needed to be and disappear as quickly. Between that and forged documents, records, cover stories and a different identity provided by the U.I.D... it would be nothing for him to infiltrate Simmons' Family Estate. Especially while they now believed Umbrella was on the defensive, and underestimating them. Still, something about it didn't sit right with him. He sought clarity for it.

"Why does the girl merit so much security? What are Simmons' interests in the matter?"

"Simmons' bioweapons program, most likely. His Family labs hidden away beneath the nearby church. The girl was infected with the Golgotha strain at some point and cured of it. William had a vaccine down in the NEST somewhere all along, codenamed DEVIL. I'm merely surprised you didn't stumble upon it. He must have kept it off the records, for himself, hid it somewhere else. He specifically told the company he had not yet developed one. Regardless, the girl took the cure, and has very suddenly become quite a valuable commodity to those of us in the field of bioweapons research and advancement. Agent Fabron has confirmed it upon his infiltration into the Family's laboratory. They have been attempting to research and engineer a new virus... one they have dubbed 'Chrysalid'... the C-Virus. Its applications, the details, and the intent of the project, are of yet classified and unknown... but prior to Raccoon City it was mostly in the planning stages. Until they found her. She appears to be their ace in the hole, the breakthrough they needed to realize their project's vision. To truly begin development."

Sherry hadn't been infected when Jill and himself had met her briefly... he was sure of it. Her father had survived, in the form he was in, and had infected her later. Or one of the mutated lesser G abominations lurking beneath the murky waters of the sewer Birkin had infected had infected her. Either way Birkin was to blame. Just like the Nemesis had infected Jill. HUNK had been able to cure her, as Sherry must have been by Kennedy. He had been able to protect Jill from becoming a test subject... and he and Kennedy alike had failed to prevent the same from happening to the girl. A test subject. Desired for what had been done to her against her will, what she'd never had a choice in. To be used, tortured and discarded when no longer useful. Such as it was with Umbrella, the government, and the other companies. Progress at any price. A fate Lady Spencer alone had intervened and saved him from. Now the Family worked to create a new virus, born of her DNA. Birkin's twisted legacy continued... would outlive him... just as Marcus' did. Through his work, and through his daughter... both combined. More than before, he wondered who the third 'biological commodity' was... the one who had escaped Raccoon City, slipped past him, what this person had been infected with, and if they had been cured. Wesker at least knew... but HUNK hadn't the faintest idea... especially now. All he thought of was the Birkin girl... and what Simmons was surely doing to her right now as they sat in this luxurious office. HUNK's hand down at his side tightened into a fist, feeling a pulse of anger and unease... keeping his surface calm, as Comtesse Henri picked up the conversation. Ever the virologist, when the topic and need to be came up.

"Eef she was exposed to the G-Virus, cured... eet would 'av effected 'er genetic structure in some way. 'er DNA. Antibodies and ze virus inside 'er. There ese great mutagenic potential in 'er blood. No wonder Simmons wants 'er under 'is domain, for zis Chrysalid Project."

The Comtesse spoke up at last, picking up on his train of thought. Looking quite intrigued. Considering it with a slight titter, shaking her head slowly. He knew that look on her face well, when she droned on about her virology work at supper in Loire Village's dining hall, and he and the servants feigned interest. At least Doctor Radames was able to make it sound interesting, explain her work more creatively, without lecturing.

"And making 'eemself look like a 'umanitarian in ze process, adopting a stray Raccoon City brat and protecting 'er publicly. Clever bastard. 'e understands image politics well."

"My sentiments precisely Comtesse. Like Simmons, I've always had something of a soft spot for children. A humanitarian. Charitable. There is a romantic in me. That is why I propose... rescuing the poor girl... from the Family's clutches.", Ashford offered a ghost of a smile, a cold gleam in his icy eyes that reminded the agent uncomfortably of Vladimir on the deck of the Leviathan. Of Lord Spencer, that night at the Spencer Mansion. Even of Wesker on the same evening. Of Stoker, waiting for them at the airfield. "To be delivered safely to my laboratories here instead, and to your staff. Her unique genetic structure could well boost and advance your new G-Virus programs... and in the same stroke we could sabotage Simmons' work on this inferior C-Virus... or at least delay it for a time. You would understand, as both a businesswoman and a lady of science yourself."

"I certainly would, mon chere Alfred. The applications could be plentiful... the potential. The opportunity to accelerate my projects cannot be ignored."

"Nor my own."

HUNK looked between the both of them at their agreement. She had the same cold gleam in her large blue eyes, now. He saw them both as they really were. Beneath their looks, pomp and circumstance, the noble fashion, wit and charm. Beneath the kindness they treated him with. Their hatefully identical, greedy faces. The spark of knowledge, agreement and understanding that passed between them. Devoid of any humanity. Prometheus in pursuit of the flame of knowledge. As Spencer was. As Birkin and Marcus had been. The world and everyone else in it be damned. Their masks had slipped... though they were both quick to put them back on. But not quick enough.

He thought of the mutated Birkin screaming and chasing him through the sewers. Heard the beating of his fists on the containment door behind him, saw the dented steel. Heard the sickening croaking noises from the jagged, razor maws of the mutated plant-like infected Birkin had been experimenting on in NEST, releasing them into the corridors of the facility. Ripping apart screaming scientists and security alike... devouring them with teeth that ran down along their front. The Hunters and other B.O.W.'s escaping containment and rampaging through the facility as well... the hopeless last stands of the facility security. The infected teeming down the corridors. His team dying one by one. He saw the flaming Leech Man again, screaming as it fled him down that hospital corridor, through the pouring sprinklers. He saw the Pale Heads in the horde of infected... the one in the containment tank, bursting free in the hospital labs... and the one that had tackled him in Raccoon Park's cemetery. He saw the colossal mutated worm rising high into the air over said cemetery, screaming through the night... as it had in the sewers Downtown, screaming in his head. The nest it had lain with the moaning hosts... its mewling, bloody offspring bursting from their insides... as they pleaded him to kill them. The putrid cocoons of biomass and pods in the sewer containing the nest guardian, insectoid mutations. He saw the Nemesis feasting on one of the infected again in the streets below the apartment, skull bursting, consuming its brains as he stood at Jill's side. He saw it as he had in the treatment room... legless... one clawed arm remaining... decapitated, with the Nemesis Parasite sprouting from its neck. Tendrils all over. Dragging itself after them inexorably. He saw the blob entity it had morphed into... slithering through the Dead Factory's ventilation shafts, before consuming fresh Tyrant genetic material and growing titanic in size. Twisting and mutating.

Umbrella's creations. Monsters all... as their makers had been... as their makers were. And he could not repress the words as they came out grimly and quietly.

"Our business is life itself."

"Pardon me?", Ashford started, inquired, confusion flickering for a moment, looking back HUNK's way. The Comtesse's gleam fading partially, curious as well. Sipping again from her rum as she watched him. "The company's slogan? What do you mean by it?"

"Nothing, sir. Just something someone was trying to warn me about. I should have listened to her."

"Enigmatic as ever. It's always been quite endearing, you know. Truthfully, I never liked that motto, whichever fool in marketing came up with it. I rather prefer the other slogan within the company that we don't tell the public. Would somewhat give the game away. 'Obedience breeds discipline. Discipline breeds unity. Unity breeds power. Power is life.' One of Marcus' more clever, creative inventions. T-Virus notwithstanding. A pity the man went quite mad towards the end... I often wonder what else he might have created if Spencer had left him alone to his own devices in his lab. Spencer jumped the gun on Marcus. I would have left him alive, had it been my call... given him as many resources and test subjects as he required. There is no telling what his next breakthrough could have been. Madness and genius are so often entwined."

"So I've heard. Seen. What you propose with Simmons is bold, but playing with fire, sir. Umbrella would be striking the government on American soil. Stirring the hornet's nest. Hive, perhaps. There would be repercussions. Likely escalation."

"Of course there are risks. Such an undertaking might be best put off for a bit of time, a month or so. Let the dust of Raccoon City settle a bit, focus on other priority missions, before making our move. The calm before the storm. They'll never see it coming. It will have to be planned and performed carefully... as you say, it would involve attacking and stealing from the United States government. It could not be done in force without significant backlash. We would require plausible deniability. A one man infiltration mission would serve, perhaps. Non lethal, grab the subject and extract. Fabron would be on site to provide mission intel, if need be. And it would offer an opportunity for Simmons to suddenly become rather... clumsy, that night. Accidentally injure himself. Not lethally of course... but enough to offer him a lesson on... balance. Toeing the line better, so to say. Much deserved lessons on humility seldom come painlessly."

Again both of them looked to him. He looked between them as well... but kept his mouth closed. Understanding well enough their intent for him, down the line, the euphemisms. Ashford went on, positively brimming with self assurance and pride in his own cunning. Hands folding together atop the surface of his desk. Striking the same regal manner and posture as the Comtesse. He had been waiting a long time to present this to him, HUNK realized. Meticulously planned and rehearsed it all, up here in his own office.

"And do you know what the beauty of it would be? Simmons might not be able to even admit the subject was kidnapped, considering the attention it might draw to his estate, his laboratories. To the Family. The government would know, of course... but would they risk their precious bioweapons program being exposed to the public if they make her disappearance and an investigation public? After Raccoon City? Tall Oaks would be swarming with journalists. I have watched the public's backlash on the news... I am all but certain they would attack the White House and Pentagon in force... would have if the President hadn't stepped down. Just as they will be tied down in the trials, trying to implicate Umbrella in bioweapons programs, with their own hovering so precariously close by, intertwined. The testimony of the survivors is as damning or more so against them than Umbrella. Furthermore... if Simmons and the Family are connected to the H.C.F., responsible for them, it would be the perfect shot across the bow. Remind them they are not untouchable. Demonstrate to all our rivals that Umbrella is as strong as ever. The same would apply even if they are not connected. The H.C.F. will see it regardless, and if wise they will take heed."

"You 'av grown quite bold and clever, Alfred. And 'ere I almost thought you were lazing about your tropical island paradise, with your target practice, dress up and statues."

"You see the vision of the arrangement, then?", Ashford merely smiled pleasantly, ignoring her amused jibe. Pouring himself another cup of rum and taking another drink. Savoring it as before as he went on. "I have had a great deal of time to sift through all the information, the state of all things as they stand... and it is time for us to make a move. Seize destiny."

"Eet 'as potential... eef done properly. Carefully. Eet requires a lady's touch, though. Hammering out some of ze details."

"That's why you're here, my dear Christine. Your special touch. As you can see, I've thought of everything."

"But of course. I must say I am interested. Een negotiating ze finer details... eet 'olds a great deal of promise for both parties.", The Comtesse smiled back at Ashford... but her eyes moved from his and settled over on the agent at her side again. Expression thoughtful. Blue eye winking his way. "Yet part of the decision must lie with HUNK. He will be quite over worked between the two of us, carrying out our tasks, expanding our operations. And so soon after Raccoon City."

"Quite true. A great deal of the groundwork would be relying on his strong, capable shoulders.", Commander Ashford agreed swiftly, leaning back in his seat a bit more and looking across to the agent at her side. Features growing a bit considerate, his voice kindly and understanding. "HUNK... I would understand if you need some more down time to recover. You have been through much and more. But we would endeavor to make it worth your while if you climbed aboard ASAP. Whatever you want or need would be made yours. No expense spared. If you don't wish to take the assignment... require more R&R, I will understand. I can put the Undertaker Commander up to liberating the girl, perhaps, or another U.S.S. Unit, if need be. What say you on the matter?"

"I say that if you send the UT Commander, you will need a good supply of body bags. It will turn into a bloodbath. Even if he doesn't bring along the Cleaners. Stealth infiltrations he may be capable of... non lethal black bag operations and kidnappings? Not so much. As much as the world could use more dead federal agents, the government and public would be out for blood. Almost certainly turning all their sights and efforts here. Go after Umbrella full force. Not worth the price. One girl's kidnapping can be swept under the rug, even an assault on their personnel... not an outright slaughter. Likely the same result would ensue if you send an entire unit of U.S.S. Agents. All it takes is one mistake for the mission to turn into open and all out warfare on U.S soil. Look at Operation: NESTWRECKER. It needs to be a solo job, with the right cool headed operative capable of non lethal operations, who has done it before, and the right sort of infiiltration and extraction. The right support team."

"On that we are of an accord. Very good points you have risen. It's a job that requires a special touch. So... can we take that to mean you volunteer?"

The two perfectly groomed and dressed beautiful blonde nobles looked to him expectantly... the Comtesse with a reassuring smile, nodding slightly encouragingly... the Earl with a hopeful expression on his smiling haughty face. Twins, save the differing tones of blonde hair, clothing, and their accents. They worked well together... always had. Maneuvering him this way. Manipulating. Most likely they had already decided most or all of this well in advance, through their correspondence before reaching the island. Staged all this... for his benefit. To make him feel included. To pressure him into it willingly instead of commanding him to take the job. He had to respect the dedication to their craft. The political and social theater... their battlefield. As much as he despised them both for it. He had walked right into it. But in the end, it wasn't either of them or their manipulations that swayed or decided it for him. There were other factors. One of them was the chance for more missions... it was a welcome prospect. To lose himself in his work again. In what he was best at.

It was more welcome even than the idea of reassembling an Alpha Team. His Alpha Team had died in that city. His next one with Jill and Carlos had been broken in that clearing on the Arklay Mountains. He would assemble another one... and it would inevitably be destroyed... leaving only himself. The way it always was. He no longer factored GHOST among the survivors... for all intents and purposes he was dead now. Had become his codename. Or whatever other name Wesker gave to him. And now there was the girl in play as well, a factor... Sherry. Perhaps another chance. Everything had changed with Raccoon City... but a great deal was the same as well, in HUNK. He knew his purpose... what Bella had brought him into the fold for. Had trained him for. What he was needed for. Umbrella had enemies that needed eliminating... new ones, within and without. He would do it... and not even for the Comtesse, his lover... or for the Earl, his home's Commander... he would do it for himself. Not for Umbrella. He would be loyal to his skills. To what he knew best. Duty. Discipline. Adaptability. Survival. He would do it for the other constant of his life that wasn't death, but went hand in hand with it.

For war.

He wouldn't do it for them... these two vain schemers. He would do it for himself. For his skills, what he was good at. And he would do it for the girl. Even if it meant attacking the U.S Government... attacking the Family... delivering her into the hands of another sort of monster, on this island. He would still be here, on the island... his home. Here he would be in a position to be able to keep an eye on her... could try to see to it the harm done to Sherry was limited. Influence the Comtesse and Commander who both held him in such high regard. Make sure they didn't go too far. Limitations and mercy the Family would not have on her. They would cut her to pieces without a second thought, have her dissected, when her use to them was through. She would be disposed of, like their other test subjects. Like the children in the Umbrella orphanages. Umbrella or the Family, one and the same, they both went through so many children. Destroyed innocence. Violated it. And that wasn't getting into all the other companies. He would not allow Simmons to have his way in this particular matter. Hurt and destroy this child as well.

Consequences be damned.

"I'm listening, sir. "

As expected, both of them were quite pleased with his answer, clinking their glasses of rum together victoriously. Getting their way... as they were quite accustomed to. Within moments the two blue blooded Umbrella executives fell into their conspiratorial, amused negotiations for quite some time over drinks. Bantering and bartering, back and forth. Getting steadily drunk, on the rum and on their delusions of grandeur. Looking more like a brother and sister than co workers or anything else. They quickly forgot all about his presence in the room, even as they bickered about him. About who would get him for which missions and schedule dates. He may as well have been a cardboard cutout of himself sitting in the chair. HUNK remained where he was best outside of missions... on the sidelines, not saying a damn thing. If he had a voice, a mouth, it might be to scream with. To try to make someone actually hear him. His decision hadn't really mattered... they would have gone through with it anyways, he was certain. Commanded him to do it.

But the Comtesse and Earl both enjoyed offering the illusion of free will. Pretending to have his best interests in mind. Either way, it was done with. His future was in their hands. Always in someone else's hands. He looked then out the windows to the pair of glass doors beyond Ashford's desk. They led to the balcony with the furniture on it... a table holding his gramophone and records... his finest bottles of wine from the cellars. He remembered the uniformed man pretending to be a soldier watching his fight with Vladimir on the beach in 1994 from it. Lounging in his chair, drinking relaxedly, listening to his tunes. Amused by the bloody spectacle. He remembered Ashford rising and applauding for him the loudest up there afterwards... as Vladimir's Elites and combat medics had hauled their bloodied, giant Colonel away. A mountain of meat. Remembered standing victorious, while Bella had spoken to him... HUNK had saw him up there, over her shoulder, waving daintily down at him. Until her green eyes and accented voice had drawn him back to her with ease. Distracting him even from the stinging of his bloodied, bruised knuckles. The soreness of the few but powerful swipes the Colonel had managed to get in before toppling. Another memory... like so many on Rockfort Island. He was home in the present... and yet he was adrift in the past at the same time. As welcome and bittersweet as it was to be back here again... he'd had too many homes to be content in one place forever... and would have more. Even Raccoon City had been his home, for that brief, terrible time.

Though even with that terrible time, there had been peace there, in the madness. With her. With Jill, in the eye of the storm.

But he didn't look to the balcony or the beaches the trainees ran over for long... his gaze drifted on over them, to the blue, sun lit skies. The blue of the ocean. He felt the cool steel of her dog tags against his flesh beneath the suit and shirt. He saw the blue of her gaze. Felt her touch. The press of her lips on his... tasted her. Heard her voice murmuring to him... reminding him he still had a chance. A choice. Maybe one day... he would have a real one. Maybe it was the girl... Sherry. A chance to set things right. Do right. He did not know, but would find out. For now, he was resigned to his course of action... but he felt an odd clarity and peace with it for the first time since the confusion and turmoil of Raccoon City. Long before it. Acceptance. Understanding. He felt Jill's love... and knew it was genuine. Unconditional. Undying. Everything Lady Spencer had not been. Truth... not a lie. Everything Umbrella was not. For all of Ashford's talk of Umbrella being stronger than ever, trying to demonstrate it... Umbrella's fate was inevitable. All the eyes of the world turned or turning their way. For now... it was just a matter of time and attrition, once the war really began.

He did not carry any hope for the outcome... had no illusions. Yet somehow, in spite of it all... what surely lie ahead... HUNK was ready to face it. He did not smile... but he did not frown either. Instead, closing his eyes, he simply sat there, drowning in a pleasant sea of memory amid their voices, felt that warmth she had given him within, this time... a rare tranquility. And he savored it for as long as he could. While it lasted.

Good things never did.

---

October 11th, 1998, 12:23 PM

Driveway, 1428 Elm Road, Ellensburg, Washington, United States

"I know I look damn good in most outfits... but I just don't think a suit is for me. The Bond look. Your Secret Agent Man is almost certainly better at it than me. Seen him without the mask and helmet. I'm more the suave Latin lover with an open shirt type you see on the romance novel covers."

"If you say so. Too cold out for one of those outfits, if you hadn't noticed. And not the appropriate occasion."

"It's too damn cold out for a suit. How do you know how to tie this thing properly?"

"Many police charities and events at Raccoon City. And to break news like this to victims families. Part of the job. Chris fussed with his as well. Never liked formal wear. Hold still, it will only take a moment. And it makes a difference, to the family. Even if it doesn't seem like it. Appearances are important... it shows how much we care."

"Man, if you say so, Supercop. Still think I shoulda worn my uniform instead. Or something casual. Just hurry up, will you?"

"Patience is a virtue."

"Maybe, but impatience ain't a sin. I should know."

"Noted."

They stood there together out below the front porch of the Viktor residence, out in the falling rain of that storm that would not let up. There were no passerbys on the street, everyone wisely in out of the rain, while the two of them alone stood outside. Jill adjusting his dark green tie, securing it close to his dog tags and crucifix necklace. It had admittedly been awhile since she'd done this... well before her firing. Both tying a tie and delivering news of this grim variety. One of the hardest parts of the job. But it was required of her... it was her duty. Even now... after her badge had been stolen from her by a criminal police chief. More importantly than her badge, than her duty even... she had made a promise to a good man, promises to two good men, and intended to keep them. They had managed to get some better clothing in Arklay County, before she had paid visit to her father. She still remembered his remarks on her attire on the opposite side of the booth's glass, repressing a smile. It was still hard to believe she had reconciled with him... buried the hatchet. Set things right again, or started to. There was one more matter to set right, though. They had waited until they got closer to Washington to purchase something for Carlos... though he had insisted on having his say in the outfit. They had settled upon a grey suit jacket, green and tan checkered shirt, blue jeans and kept on his black combat boots. A return to relative normalcy for for them both, in the wake of all that had happened... proper clothing, formal... shopping again had been welcome. Something to focus on that wasn't what lie ahead of them, yet. Wearing such normal clothing. It took some adjustment, doing normal things again.

There was still pain, of course... but it had become more bearable. Mostly dulled throbbing and aches. The painkillers still helping a good deal. Even her stinging hands were feeling a little better. She still wore bandages on them all the same, carefully wrapped. Would for awhile yet, at Rebecca's insistence... not looking forward to seeing how they would look when it came time to unwrap them. To see all the scars she had collected. Though... given how and why she had collected the ones on her hands... she didn't regret them for all the world. Would wear them proudly. And as much as she had dreaded this moment, delivering this news to good people... she needed this focus away from her pain within and without. The bruises remained on her face along with the bandages... but would be dying down again soon. She had applied makeup Rebecca had bought for her to lessen their presence for this visit... but the feeling of them reminded her of the lie of the makeup. And there were deeper wounds. The ones that wouldn't heal. That others couldn't see... but followed her everywhere... in her memory. Still... the cold, fresh air... the water on her face and in her hair... it made her feel alive again. The first time she'd emerged from the motel... it was as though walking down a long tunnel, escaping darkness and wandering back into the light of reality.

For better and for worse.

Carlos had healed up even better... and was more or less back to his old self. More or less. The difference was in his eyes, at times. And he was quieter than he had been when she and HUNK had first met him. Relatively, anyways. Mostly keeping to himself on the ride here. She was glad he had caught up with his family on the phone back in Brazil at least, before they had set off. Promising to keep them updated. He was free and in the clear now, could do anything he wanted, go anywhere... return to his family... but had decided to come with them. To help them. It meant more than she could ever tell him. She doubted she could have done this alone, even with her experience. Chris had always been there, for visits to families like this. He had been better at it too... giving comfort and condolences. She remembered Priscilla and Becky McGee in the summer... ages seven and nine... former neighbors of hers, no less. Their bodies found devoured in the park at Victory Lake after they had wandered away from a picnic of their family's, during a visit to the outskirts, in the Arklay Mountains. The first victims in the series of 'ritual cannibal murders' that had alerted S.T.A.R.S. attention to the Arklay Mountains. The first victims of many. She had spoken to the girls parents, and Chris had been there to help, to offer assurances the killer would be found. And so it had been, in the end... Umbrella. At a price. Justice always carried one. She wouldn't have been able to do it without Chris's help... delivering the new, as well as seeking justice. The only silver lining besides destroying the Spencer Mansion was that the girls parents had picked up and left Raccoon City after the loss of their daughters. Inadvertently saving themselves from Umbrella and the government in the process.

She glanced over Carlos's shoulder through the rain and down across the yard, to the car parked at the curb of the street. Barry and Rebecca remained within, not wanting to be an intruder on the family's grief... and not having known Mikhail, at the end. They watched them solemnly from where they sat, behind the wheel and by the back seat respectively. Jill's gaze returned to the tie as she finished adjusting it, straightening it, before stepping back again. Inspecting the young man's suit one more time with a satisfied nod, looking to him again.

"There. Don't worry, you only have to wear it once. Can wear whatever you like later."

"Thank God. Let's get this over with, then. Before I lose my nerve..."

"Yes."

On that simple resolved note, finally, Jill turned from the young man and went to the door, with him following suit. Reaching for the door bell, drawing a steadying breath to calm herself... Jill pressed it. It rang through the house... and she drew back a bit... hand removing and tucking away her sunglasses, before moving down to her side again. Together they waited in silence... all save the rain behind them, the steady patter. She closed her eyes a moment, breathing in the cool air again to settle her nerves. She had a job here to do... a duty, a promise to keep. And as uncomfortable as it made her... as little as she belonged here... she had no regret carrying it out. She was here... and she was alive. She would be whole again... in due time. Underway... to try to make something out of all the evil and injustice, of late... the sort that had destroyed her hometown. Her city. To try to bring some order to the chaos she had somehow survived. Chaos so few had. And she lived only because others had made it possible, regardless of how hard she had fought to live. It had not been done alone.

These people had forever lost a good man... a father, a husband. She hadn't been able to save him... this was the least she could do to try to set things right. All the same... the world seemed heavier, felt heavier. She felt her hand beginning to tremble, her nerves starting to give way. It took all her effort to remain standing where she was, to go through with this. Even her Samurai Edge felt heavier within the holster inside her suit, along with her sheathed, concealed dagger knife. She wanted to be secluded away from the world again. As she had been at the hotel. But then she felt the cool metal at her right wrist... had a flash of a grey eye... and found she had the strength to do what she must. Steadying her trembling fingers. She heard the racing of feet within the house, and her eyes opened just as the door did. Looking down... to find the youngest daughter from the photograph staring back at her curiously, wearing a dress. A blonde girl with blue eyes... who reminded her at once of the girl from the police department. The most recent girl she hadn't been able to save. Had failed. Sherry. All she could do was hope it had been quick... that the blast had claimed her life, instead of the horde of monsters. She wondered how it could have been... if she hadn't been afraid of HUNK. If she had come with them. Whether she would have even been able to protect the girl or not like she promised she could. All she knew was that she would have tried. Or died in the attempt. Jill forced the grim, bitter thought aside, focusing as best she could on the present. With the same curious look at the bandaged Jill, looking between her and the smiling Carlos, she finally spoke a bit hesitantly, shyly, with an accented voice like her father.

"Hi. Can I... help you?"

"Hello, sweetie... is your mother home? We need to talk to her. We're friends of your father."

The girl simply looked back between them again for a moment blankly. Before stepping back into the doorway, vanishing back inside without a word, leaving the doorway ajar. They heard her race through the house... and the two of them remained where they were. Waiting. It wasn't long before the older blonde woman from the photograph appeared in the doorway, wearing a dress as well, her youngest daughter lingering behind her. The woman paused in her tracks, frozen for a moment or two at the sight of Jill's injured face. She and girl looking between the two of them, two strangers, with curiosity. Turmoil writ large on the widow's lined, solemn visage.

"Hello?", Mrs Viktor's Russian accented voice started at last, swallowing deeply. Visibly struggling to find her voice. Jill heard the pain in it... and more than before wished she didn't have to do this, knowing what came next. "Anya said you were friends of my husband? Who are you?"

"My name is Jill Valentine... former Officer of the R.P.D. S.T.A.R.S. Unit.", Jill finally introduced herself, before looking to the unusually silent, grave, Corporal... introducing him as well. "This is Corporal Carlos Oliveira... he served with your husband in the U.B.C.S., in his unit at Umbrella. At Raccoon City."

"My name is Natasha. This is about Mikhail?", The woman asked at once without hesitation, breathing deeper and faster. Staring back at Jill, scarcely blinking. "I tried to get in contact with Umbrella... the government, anyone I could... I was pulled around in circles or hung up on. Did the company send you here?"

"No. A promise did."

"How did you... find our address?"

"Another friend to Mikhail. Another who owes him a debt."

"You know what happened, don't you? You know what happened. Tell me the truth. Please. Where is my husband?"

The woman's tone was desperate, breathless, visibly working to keep herself under control and scarcely succeeding. Jill and Carlos looked to each other again... silently arguing over who should speak the words, neither of them wanting to. But both of them knew whose duty it was. Who had made the promise. Jill looked back at the woman, her daughter, and spoke to them the truth, hating herself for it. There was only the truth in the end, no matter how painful it was to hear or to speak it. Umbrella had imposed it on her, as they had so much else. Imposed their will and the consequences of their actions on all. Their victims. It was them she thought of.

"He's gone, Mrs Viktor."

Jill finally answered, forcing herself to ignore the sudden burning in her throat. The raw emotion. She had grieved everything inside herself at the motel. Now all that was left was a dull sort of pain. And weariness. She swallowed the burning away as best she could, as she spoke the perfunctory words.

"I'm so sorry."

Jill stepped forward, setting her bandaged hand reassuringly on the woman's shoulder, looking between her and her daughter unhappily. Tiredly. She felt ten years older, just saying the words aloud. Making it a crushing reality to their family. Shattering the peace. The illusion that he was going to come walking in through this front door one day. Carlos lingered back behind her, lowering his head and looking off to the side miserably, unable to look the widow in the eyes. Mrs Viktor looked between them... seeing the truth for herself... but she didn't cry. Her face was a pale, ghostly mask... of shock... but of knowledge as well. A struggle. It hadn't quite reached her yet... even as it did. Jill understood all too well. She breathed again... releasing it... and looking to her shocked daughter a moment, and back up to them. Staying strong for her, as long as she could. Having a duty of her own, as a mother. A now only parent. Her quiet voice murmuring again as she met Jill's solemn expression.

"I knew... deep down, I knew. I felt he was gone. I didn't think I would ever find out for certain, though... ever hear it. How did it happen?"

"We both fought with him, at his side, at Raccoon City. Tried to escape together. We wouldn't be here without him. I made a promise to him, before the end. To come here and see you. To return what is yours. The items he wanted me to deliver to you."

Mrs Viktor was silent for a time, trying to fathom all of it. A little at a time the shock wore away... and she remembered herself. Withdrawing from Jill's touch, she looked down to her daughter, hands settling on each of her shoulders. Murmuring quietly to her, but implicitly.

"Anya, please go to the living room and take a seat. We'll be there shortly. Go now. No arguing."

"Yes, mama..."

The girl quietly obeyed, casting another look at Jill and Carlos, before retreating back inside. Racing through the home. When she was gone, Mrs Viktor looked up again at once, clearing her throat and visibly straining to remain calm and collected. Cracks in the visage showing... the deep sorrow in her blue eyes. She would not last forever, Jill was certain, but she was strong, strong as she had to be. Especially with her husband's previous absences for deployment, she was sure. How it was for military spouses. She stepped back in the doorway as well, beckoning them both to come inside.

"Come take a seat in to my living room as well. Please. I need to get our other children. Vasily and Svetlana. They need to hear it from you. Need to know. Deserve the truth."

"Of course, Mrs Viktor. Take your time."

At once Jill nodded and slipped inside past her, with Carlos bringing up the rear. No hesitation. Once inside Carlos closed the door behind them, and they slipped off their soaked combat boots. As they did, Mrs Viktor moved ahead of them, deeper into the home, and they followed her at once. Looking over the interior carefully as they went. A fairly spacious, well furnished middle class home... enough for a family of five. Umbrella paid well, she knew, in addition to Mikhail's sentence likely being commuting... what was money to Spencer and Vladimir, over all the lives they were responsible for taking? Umbrella spared no expenses. She was liable to get a nice fat final check from them for Mikhail's service to them, before severing all ties, as though he never worked for Umbrella. Assuming they even got the check. Hadn't already severed all ties. They passed by the kitchen and out towards the living room, when Mrs Viktor turned back around to them, pale features harried.

"Can I get you two anything? You must have traveled a long way... and I-..."

"No thank you. It's ok. Get your children, ma'am."

Jill quietly insisted, following her into the living room. Feeling Carlos behind her. Looking between them again, Mrs Viktor nodded... leaving them in the front room, heading for the stairs to go up and get her kids from their rooms. As she vanished upstairs, Jill looked about the cozy interior of the living room... and to one of the couches, where the little girl, Anya, sat watching them in silence. Perhaps not understanding... or unable to comprehend the truth yet. Shock. Breaking the news to children had always been the worst part of the job. The hardest. This wasn't the first time she had... but it never got any easier. She took a seat on a couch opposite the little girl's, a coffee table between them. Carlos remained standing awkwardly for a time... but finally joined her on it, sitting at her side, when the rest of the family came downstairs. Rejoining them in the front room. The boy, Vasily... and the teenage girl from the photograph, Svetlana, had joined Mrs Viktor... each of them looking grim and scared, trying to control it. Not long ago an ordinary family... now one beset by tragedy. The family sat together on the couch with the little girl, and all of them were silent for a long moment. A silence in which Jill didn't really even hear the rain outside. Simply waiting for the inevitable. Finally, it came, with Mrs Viktor speaking at last. Clearing her throat with a swallow, and summoning the strength to ask it.

"What is the truth about what happened? You were there, both of you. In the middle of it... with my husband. The news won't really say. Everyone on it tells a different story. Terrible stories. What is yours? Please tell us."

The entire family looked between the two of them with bated breath. Looked to them for answers they could barely begin to explain. And for their sakes, would probably be better off not telling them. Elaborating much. But they needed to know... had to know... if they were going to come to any sort of acceptance over the insanity that had been Raccoon City. Over the loss that would change their lives forever. They would never get the truth from the government or Umbrella. What Mikhail had died because of... died for. Before Jill could speak, to her silent surprise, and deep appreciation, Carlos's accented, quiet voice started for her. Accented voice carefully controlled.

"Raccoon City was infected with a virus, ma'am... that turned people into... well... zombies. Which attacked others, turned them as well. It spread through the city. Umbrella is responsible for it. All of it. They sent your husband and I, many other men in the U.B.C.S. to the city to try to contain it. There were too many of them. We failed. They abandoned us there. Didn't send any more help. For several days we struggled to survive, and to escape. But... we were just combat data. Test cases against the monsters. They never intended for us to succeed, to survive..."

"Why, Corporal?", Mrs Viktor insisted of him, expression bewildered and hurt... unable to comprehend it. Any of it. Any more than Jill could, really. Even now. "Why would they do such a thing? The company was always good to us... they gave Mikhail a chance nobody else would. Why would they do this to an entire city? To good soldiers? To innocents?"

At that prompting... as suddenly as Carlos had spoken, he was at a loss for words. He opened and closed his mouth... visibly racking his brain, perhaps for something that might comfort them... but couldn't find the right thing. Closing his mouth and looking thoroughly miserable. Defeated. Jill saw her cue, and took it.

"The initial outbreak was a terrible accident, an... incident... at an underground research facility... but everything that happened afterwards... what they did, wasn't. Umbrella was testing bioweapons on the city as well. Mutated beings they created. Collecting research they deemed more valuable than your husband's life. Collecting data on the creatures through the U.B.C.S. and R.P.D. Seeing how long they could hold out.", Jill picked up the reins for Carlos, who looked to her gratefully and silently with a nod. Jill remembered the Nemesis breaching the train... Mikhail's shouts and screams... the gunfire... and, eventually, the explosion. The chance it had bought them. "They sent a unique monster that was hunting me as well... to silence me, over things me and my friends had seen that incriminated Umbrella back in the summer. Your husband saved us from it while we were all trying to escape, at the cost of his own life. If he hadn't, I am certain we wouldn't have made it. He... died for me. For us. Your husband died a hero."

Jill stopped speaking at last, and Carlos remained silent and still. As did the family for a long time. Trying to process and reconcile the too crazy to believe story they had just heard. Looking among one another. All of them pale and shocked... no tears spilling yet. They would come... she knew... they always did. It was just a matter of when. They needed to grieve... as she had so many things, in the past days. So many people. Only in acceptance could someone begin to heal. Finally, Mrs Viktor found her voice... and it was choked with emotion... barely kept in control.

"Of course he did... that was Mikhail. Always. Before and after we came to America. Umbrella offered him a chance to be a hero again... to set right his past... and to support our family here. He trusted them. I trusted them. Colonel Vladimir gave his word... lied to us..."

"Yes. Umbrella does that. Vladimir learned from his master well."

"Mikhail was away too often... but when he returned... it was always worthwhile. As if he had never been gone."

She swallowed, struggling to keep in control of herself, as she pondered those memories. Looking to her children again for a time... all of them silent and grave. At a loss for words. Looking at one another with disbelief. Jill gave them the time they needed, forcing herself not to look away, as Carlos was. She couldn't blame him... although he had grown up with violence and death, this must have been something different to him. Having the responsibility to give the news. To see the pain it wrought on loved ones. Finally, Mrs Viktor found enough of her strength to continue, thankfully bringing it back around to Jill's purpose for being there. Reminding her of her purpose.

"You said you were here to give us something from him. What was it Mikhail wanted you to deliver to me?"

Silently, Jill reached into her suit pocket holding the three items. Removing them all together, and setting them down on the coffee table in front of the Viktors. The dog tags... the photograph... and the letter in the envelope that she hadn't opened to read. The older daughter, Svetlana, reached down and took the photograph... Vasily took the dog tags... and Mrs Viktor the letter. Each of them looking over the items carefully. Jill heard her low, hollow voice speak again... a murmur... a remnant of the woman who had died in Raccoon City with Mikhail and the rest. The one who had made the promise.

"I'm sorry I couldn't bring him home to you, instead. I tried. We tried. We really did."

Mrs Viktor looked back up to her for a moment... before withdrawing the letter from the envelope. Raising it a bit and silently reading from it. For quite some time. Rereading it. Over and over. After a time... she finally lowered it... setting it on the coffee table... and when she did, the tears were forming and trickling down her cheeks. As it all set in. As it came to her. Realization. Understanding. And grief. Unable to hold back the tide any longer, for all her evident strength.

"Thank you... Officer Valentine... just... thank you.", Her contorted voice eventually managed through the tears... closing her eyes tightly and shaking her head. As her older daughter held her, reading the letter as well in silence. "I'm sorry, I know you've come a long way... but... I would very much like to be alone now. We need to be. To talk as a family..."

"We understand, Mrs Viktor. We'll be going now." Jill said, rising at once with Carlos in tandem. They stood over the family a moment... slowly moving away from the couch as they spoke, not looking away from them. "Thank you for your time. All of you. I'm so sorry. I wish... I could have done more."

"I am so sorry for your loss.", Carlos murmured as well as he drew back from the couch swiftly. Willing himself to meet their stares again. To look between them all. "I've never served with a finer soldier. A better man. He saved my life... it's a debt that can never be repaid. But we're going to try to."

None of the family replied to that vow from the young man, still bearing the weight of the grief. The shock. The two of them lingered only a moment longer... looking among the four... before looking to each other and nodding, turning. Leaving the living room hurriedly and going back down to the front door. Retrieving and putting on their combat boots in silence. When they finished, they stepped back out on to the front porch, closing the door behind them. Moving back down the steps and into the rain. Looking to Barry's waiting car again. Starting down the driveway towards it. They were no more than half way down it, when they heard the door open again behind them, then... and her voice calling them back. Together she and Carlos stopped in their tracks and looked back towards the doorway, where she stood in it.

"Wait! Before you go... come back again, anytime you wish.", Mrs Viktor insisted, holding out a piece of paper where she stood. Beckoning Jill and Carlos closer, back up the stairs. "You'll always be welcome here, Officer Valentine. Corporal Oliveira."

Jill nodded and moved back down towards the door along with Carlos... reaching it, taking the paper from her, and looked down at it to find the residence's phone number on it. She looked back at Mrs Viktor... understanding her intent and appreciating it... tucking it away in a pocket, before stepping forward and instinctively hugging the woman. Doing what came naturally. Holding her tightly in the doorway. The woman shuddered... and sobbed... a release... holding her right back tightly. They remained that way for a time, Jill rubbing her back... looking over her shoulder back into the house... the living room. Where her children remained. The boy staring unblinkingly at the dog tags... the older daughter in tears... and the little girl staring back at Jill, too young to fully understand what was going on, yet. Innocents hurt by proxy... a few of the many Umbrella's actions had harmed. Jill found her voice when she drew back a bit from the embrace... while Carlos had moved just behind her again. Tone firm and assured, steady and strong, for the widow's sake.

"I will. I won't drop out of contact. You have my word. And my word that I will have justice for your husband, in the end. Umbrella will answer for their crimes. The government as well for their part. We're going to fight them, next... others will as well... and we're going to win. Blow the lid off this thing."

"Damn right.", Carlos added firmly... standing there awkwardly, before Mrs Viktor moved over and hugged him as well. He smiled faintly, rubbing her back, and meeting Jill's eyes... giving her a nod that she returned. "They'll get what's coming to them. Have my word on that too, ma'am."

"God I hope you are right. Don't let this happen again... don't let them hurt anyone else.", Mrs Viktor murmured, drawing back from Carlos again, looking between the two of them gratefully. "It feels like the whole world is coming apart at the seams. Stop all this... this nightmare... before it's too late."

"We will."

"Promise?"

"Yes. I promise."

"We both do."

"Thank you... just... be safe. Be careful out there. Enough lives have been lost. After what you survived... Mikhail would want you to make it. To live. To heal."

"There's a time for peace, and a time for war, Mrs Viktor.", Jill murmured back to the woman quietly, trading a glance with Carlos who nodded as well. Meeting Mrs Viktor's concerned gaze again. "This time is the latter. As much as I wish otherwise. When it's over... well. We'll see."

Despite the tears... the pain, the grief in Mrs Viktor's eyes... there was also something infused in it that looked like gratitude, despite the concern for their wellbeing. Relief. Belief. She believed in them, that they would keep their word. That they would succeed. It took a weight off her shoulders, one they would carry for her. Jill vowed not to forget that expression. Mrs Viktor nodded very slightly, and Jill returned it, smiling back at the woman sadly. At last, the widow stepped back inside the home... offering one last look between them, before closing the door on them, vanishing within. They stood there out in the rain in silence for a time... before she felt his hand touch her uninjured shoulder reassuringly.

"Well... that's all we can do here.", Carlos's accented voice finally spoke to her quietly. Gripping her shoulder a little tighter. "You kept your promise. Come on, Supercop. Time for us to go and keep our new one."

"Yes."

Reaching up to her shoulder, she squeezed his hand back gratefully. And on that note, together, with a final shared look at the house, his hand left her and they strode away from the house again and back down the driveway. Reaching the car parked and waiting for them at the curb. Carlos opened the door to the back seat and climbed inside first, while Jill did the same with the passenger seat. Climbing in out of the cold and the rain again, to the warmth of the heater and voices on the radio, closing the door tightly behind herself. Buckling up, while Carlos did the same in the back, in the window seat opposite Rebecca sitting beside the other, fingers fiddling with the chain necklace with the dog tags on them that she wore, along with her pink choker. Both her and Barry divested of their S.T.A.R.S. uniforms for the moment, dressing down as well, Rebecca in a zipped up long, olive green, hooded raincoat, white pants and combat boots of the same tone as the coat, with white laces. Barry clad in a crimson red leather jacket with a white shirt under it, grey trousers and brown combat boots as well. His cap and sunglasses removed, though still wearing his dark fingerless gloves. The two of them looked between Jill in the front seat and Carlos in the back, eyes filled with sympathy and concern. Barry turned the volume off on the radio, and broke the silence that greeted them all first, his gruff tone a sympathetic murmur.

"Well? Did it go well?"

"About as well as can be expected, man.", Carlos answered for her grimly, leaning back in his seat and rubbing his face wearily. Releasing a low sigh... before gradually opening his eyes again, looking ahead to the front seat. Barry studying the young man in the reflection of the mirror. "So not very well. They only lost their father and husband."

"I imagine millions have lost someone they knew in that city.", Rebecca murmured quietly, shaking her head, looking back to Carlos and Jill. "I don't even want to think about how many others are getting the news right now... or in the weeks to follow."

"True enough. Plenty of suffering to go around. Way it's always been. But we're still alive. So it's time we did something about that. Where to now then, Mr Burton?"

"Canada, Oliveira. Home. We're stocked up on gear and supplies, both in the trunk and back home. Chris and I have gathered enough to start a small war, if need be... so we won't need to take any detours."

"Now that's what I'm talking about, man!"

"And Rebecca's parents in Alaska have been kind and understanding enough to generously make their private airline available to us."

"After I managed to convince them to help us out, of course. After the Arklay Mountains. After I left Raccoon City. Took awhile... but all this sealed the deal.", Rebecca added with a weary, yet faintly amused look. Visibly, almost certainly considering the memory of how she had broke the news to her parents. Jill wondered how they had reacted, compared to how readily Dick had accepted her own tale. "Still not sure how they bought the part about zombies and mutants, evil corporations. Even if it's all true... I wouldn't have. Mom and dad always liked their horror movies, though."

"Smart parents. Apple didn't fall far from the tree either, I've heard."

"Thank you, Carlos. What about your apple and tree?"

"Didn't fall too far either. But... be glad you didn't have to hear my grandmother and sisters on the phone, at least. Make me look tame."

"I suppose being an only child has its benefits."

"Lonely, smart, rich kid, huh? Worked out for Bruce Wayne, at least, and you still got your parents. Take that over crippling poverty and my upbringing any day of the week, Princess."

"Kathy and the girls will want to see you again before we move on from there, Jill.", Barry wisely cut in before Rebecca could retort to Carlos, bringing back the conversation to the matter at hand. Looking Jill's way. "It's been too long."

"Wouldn't miss out on them for the world, Barry."

"And then?", Carlos asked them curiously, already undoing his green tie again... removing it and casting it aside, ignoring Rebecca's silent glare. A hint of his youthful energy returned... the young man who had battled at her and HUNK's side through hell on earth. Who had come through and saved each of their lives. Inexperienced, but not lacking in spirit and drive. "When does the fighting start? When do we get some payback? I'm ready to kick some ass and take names."

"From there, on to Europe. Patience. You'll get your fighting, son. Sooner than you'll want to. Plenty of it to go around, I imagine. Chris is probably already neck deep in it. Has the leads we'll need. This part right here is just the calm before the storm."

"Yes.", Jill spoke her agreement quietly, a murmur more herself than to them. Feeling her pulse quicken already. Knowing what was to come. Hearing it aloud from Barry made it all the more real. Feeling herself slip into a familiar reverie of thought and memory. "On to Chris's hideout. We need to make sure he's ok. Have so much to talk about. The sooner the better."

Jill looked away from Barry as he nodded and out the window blankly... not really seeing any of it. The rain washing down it. She saw Raccoon City ahead, through the mist. She saw a vague and unknown future. The shadow of Umbrella that they dwell within. She saw a looming, intimidating world that awaited them. One she might not be able to adapt to. One that threatened to consume all. Raccoon City had only been the beginning of this world. A world of viruses and corporations... of monsters... human and otherwise. A world where other Raccoon Cities could and would happen... if they failed. A world similar and different to her one as a cop. Closer to her one as a soldier. It was only fitting she supposed... a war was coming with the storm. One she had seen in her dreams, and nightmares, the days before. The future rested on their shoulders... and in her case... every life the G-Virus she had held might claim. The test subjects. She had to bear it all. No matter how heavy. Whether she collapsed beneath it, or carried it onward. She had to try.

Owed too damn many.

"Jill... are you ok?"

Rebecca's quiet, concerned voice brought her back all at once from the reverie. Barry had not yet pulled away from the curb, she realized, as she came to. He had started up the car... the engine rumbling steadily. Both him and Carlos were looking at her with evident concern and sympathy, as Rebecca was, playing again absently with her dog tags. Care for her. It felt good that people still did. That there were still good people in the world. Part of her world. Beacons of light in the dark. And that she was still among them. At last, finding her voice... she answered the girl truthfully.

"No... Rebecca. I'm not."

She felt the cool metal at her wrist again... reminding her. Of her purpose. Cutting through the reverie of her troubled thoughts and memories. She rolled back the sleeve of her suit and looked to it... the cuff-like bracelet she wore. The umbrella shaped safety catch concealing the button and signal on the device. And she felt the rosary beads at her neck, the ones he had given up in favor of her dog tags. Felt the sapphire she had adorned to the same necklace against her flesh as well. If Umbrella's best and supposedly most loyal agent was prepared to abandon the company's cause, one day... for her... well, anything could still happen, couldn't it? One never knew what the future could bring. It needn't be more pain and misery. It was a wry thought... with a warmth that spread through her insides... banishing the dread. Replacing it with strength... with certainty. Clarity. She felt his lips again... his comforting, strong embrace wrapped around her, as ravenous, dead monsters screamed and moaned beyond the clock tower courtyard gates, rattling on them. His embrace banishing all thought of them. His trust for her, in letting her raise the mask just enough... blinded while she kissed him, and him her.

Blind faith.

Jill saw that grey, powerful, yet content eye looking back at her through the shattered red lens. She saw a man and a woman standing on a rooftop in the rain. The world about to end... and them content in their own. She saw a man and a woman who loved each other... watching the rising sun over the birth of their new world from the mountains where it all began. And she remembered the peace she had felt with this strange, troubled man of mystery. From the very beginning... when he had crept up behind her and burst into her life, pulling her into his arms. Even then, when she had feared him the most... she had felt a reassurance. A relief. Comfort. Safety from the Tyrant lurking outside, bullet ridden by the agent. At last, she looked back to them... to Barry and Carlos, to Rebecca... reassuring them of what she knew.

"But I will be."

That seemed enough for them... they all smiled back at her, satisfied, troubles gone in that instant... and looking ahead Barry pulled them away from the curb at last. Back out on to the road. Away from the peaceful neighborhood... away from the devastated Viktor Family. It wasn't long before they were back out on the fog stricken highway, lights flitting through the mist, the rain still coming down with the window wipers beating away the torrent rapidly. North bound. In spite of the darkness of the long road that loomed ahead... in spite of everything... the pain and loss and suffering that had happened and still might... the unknown... the uncertainty... there was a chance, now. For all of them. To get this right. And she would not bear the terrible burden of all this alone any longer... vowed never to again.

Maybe she had been wrong all this time. Maybe good things could last. So long as she carried them around with her... never forgot them... but looked ahead in the present to the future. Not lingering, chained and tormented by the unchangeable past. It was out of her reach... but the future wasn't. Learning from that past wasn't.

Jill Valentine felt her bruised, bandaged face smile warmly, eyes wide open and ready for that future. Feeling that very warmth radiate within her. Offering her something far greater than the fear she had been freed from in Raccoon City.

Hope.

---

THE END

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U.S.S. SPECIAL AGENT HUNK MIGHT RETURN IN: The Reaper Of Rockfort Island (Possible Working Title)

U.S.S. SPECIAL AGENT GHOST AND ADA WONG WILL APPEAR IN: The Ghost Survivors: Last Escape

---

Phew. Been a hell of a journey, hasn't it? The story is over. Took awhile, only a decade... but I did it. Finally. What a weight that has been lifted from my shoulders, and mind.

I wanted to end on a contrast between HUNK and Jill's characters, and end on Jill who was the protagonist of this story, and to do so on a somewhat more upbeat note... in stark contrast to HUNK. Her ending shorter and simpler, a hero and villain dichotomy. Jill looking ahead to the future while not bogged down in the past, yet remembering it, while HUNK retreats to the comfort of memory as he did at the start of the story, still hung up on the past, even as he wants to hope for something more. Jill learning and growing, HUNK almost right back where he started. Jill with open eyes, HUNK with his closed. Jill offering comfort to the victims of a tragedy, promising justice and preparing to pursue Umbrella, coming to terms with things, while HUNK is back doing what he does best, being what he is without Jill's influence. A villain working with other scheming villains, ready to carry out their dirty work. Still with some nuance, and a bit better than he was, after his experience in Raccoon City, but still conflicted deep down. If not even more conflicted than before. And setting aside his lessons from Jill for the moment to go back into villainy. Missions for Ashford... which will, as you can see, culminate in one hell of an important divergence from the game canon. Kidnapping Sherry Birkin from Simmons/The Family/The Feds to take her to Rockfort Island for testing. Sherry in a Code Veronica sequel, if I can get around to it. And a hell of a ripple effect of consequences for this divergence.

I wanted to set up Rockfort Island, the players involved there, potential plot points, and HUNK stepping into the role of the protagonist, taking over from Jill, while still ending it on Jill just like it began with her. If I do any other main stories going forward HUNK will always be the protagonist. Though far from the only vital character or POV.

Next up, lastly, will be my review page/afterward/character and story notes. It may take awhile. Thanks again, a bit more to come. I am also editing the GHOST/Ada story, tuning it up further. While the story is complete I will likely come back to this one and edit it here and there, some small additions and fixing mistakes. Until next time, folks, the last time.