The Ghost Survivors: Last Escape

by antihero276

Emerging from ground zero of the T-Virus outbreak and the destruction of NEST stumble two greatly differing corporate spies believed by the world to be dead. U.S.S. Special Agent GHOST and Organization operative "Ada Wong" cross paths and are forced to work together to survive and escape the infested Raccoon City. Short story. Aftermath of RE 2. RE 6 Ada/Agent origin story.

4. Chapter 3: The Apple Inn

nliochristou: It's possible they could move on to new characters set in the future, but would be stupid and detrimental to themselves to only do that. Just like skipping a Code Veronica remake was asinine, going straight to 4. Capcom has a wealth of characters and material in the RE universe that they haven't delved into, could easily make more games of the characters we know and love in the time between RE 8's ending and epilogue... and make prequels and interquels as well, as they have done before, games set between older games. They did that with both Revelations games. I'd like a prequel about Umbrella's military cleaning up the Plant 57 outbreak in West Africa that Sheva witnessed as a child, for example. Or other early corporate espionage and outbreaks that were contained by Umbrella Security Service, more backstory about the U.S.S. and the Spencer Family. Lord Spencer an actual character again, instead of always in the background. More on the Ashfords and James Marcus. Spencer having Ashford whacked for wanting to turn Umbrella legitimate. A HUNK game would be great as a prequel, or a bit of both, set in two timelines, flashbacks to his past and him in the present or at an earlier point, like post Umbrella's collapse, or working at Blue Umbrella, a Buddy Agent game with him and Chris or him and Leon forced to work together xD butting heads. HUNK needs his own game, backstory and character, hands down. And as I've suggested, that interquel set before Umbrella's collapse, set in the Antarctic. Doctor Cameron as the villain at an Umbrella facility, threatening to escape out into the world and destroy it, HUNK and Rebecca as the two protagonists trying to stop her, playing as either one, like the old RE games. Resident Evil meets The Thing. I hope I can get around to that story, but if not I want the genius idea out there in people's heads. Would be delighted if Capcom ripped me off lol I have no shortage of ideas.

Storm: I wasn't referring to the three Spencer children, but the rest of the Spencer Family distancing themselves from Umbrella, Oswell and Bella. The three kids will be left with the fallout of their grandfather and mother's legacies, having to deal with the weight of that. I can see HUNK first meeting Matilda at some corporate Tricell party Excella Gionne drags him to in an adaptation of 5, many elites present there for it including Christine Henri, Matilda confronting him there, likely having found out by then... a drink probably ending up in his face. Also disgusted he's working for and clearly sleeping with someone as young as Excella, who is the same age as Matilda, and Excella probably rubbing it in her and especially Christine's faces a fair bit. Excella having previously met HUNK and Christine when they were a couple at a party, Excella doing the polite equivalent of "He's my pet now, you old frog bitch.". Likely Excella and Wesker would have secretly arranged all that, the invitations, to drag HUNK through further misery, because petty, cruel Supervillains lol. I could see HUNK and Christine dancing together, a wistful reunion, sharing his plan to kill Wesker with her, why he's joined Tricell, her telling him to be careful, wishing him luck, saying she can't risk getting involved in the plot... and then without him knowing, using her wealth to hire Ada and Agent to tail him and Excella to Africa and to watch over him, help as needed, getting them involved in the events of Resident Evil 5. There would be a lot more going on in my version of that game.

Likely the Spencer kids found out about the Trevors by then too, among other things. Them donating to the B.S.A.A./Blue Umbrella would be secret, nothing public. They aren't megalomaniacs like their grandfather.

KyLaios: Glad to hear you are enjoying it ;).

GHOST/Agent is only getting started being put through the ringer of reality, and not being an awesome action hero like HUNK lol just lucky enough to survive, not much luck beyond that.

Would say those lyrics fit HUNK more than GHOST. In the end, GHOST/Agent is going to lack HUNK's self introspection, awareness and reflection as time goes on, and jump head first into being with Ada and never look back. Hooking up with a sexy superspy, travelling the world, kicking ass, living in luxury, all the guns he wants, fine dining, the criminal lifestyle, etc? He'll gradually turn to putty in her hands. Right now he's still in the smothering his own conscience phase, and making himself ignore all the glaring warning signs. He is bad Leon, and that isn't going to change. He already worked for the bad guys before meeting Ada. It's two fold, Ada and Agent will bring out the worst in each other, but somehow still work well together. I like exploring the consequences of story alterations on a universe for the characters, the butterfly effect really. If Ada had escaped the city alone it would have given her more self reflection time to consider where she went wrong, leading to her to be influenced for the better by Leon, like HUNK will be by Jill. With GHOST's presence, meeting him as she did, despite her development in 2, she has essentially jumped back on the wagon of her negative traits, so will be a slightly darker character in this universe than in the games, though not outright evil. Still complicated and troubled, tragic. They will be corrupting one another, essentially. GHOST, unlike HUNK, was already corrupted by the allure of violence and power, hence joining the U.S.S., while HUNK was corrupted by his feelings for Lady Spencer, knowing her before he joined U.S.S. Joining for her, to please her. Ada is exploiting and worsening a pre existing corruption in GHOST, where Bella induced corruption into an innocent young HUNK. Part of their similarities and differences. There won't be a realization moment light bulb that goes off in Agent's head, the way it does in HUNK. He's a cautionary story above all, the Leon and HUNK that might have been, and becomes something of a bumbling fool and simp for Ada, while still having a bit of badassery of course. I'm planting the seeds for that in this story. Ada and Agent are Anti Villains, ultimately.

Nightroad816: Nope, GHOST is a rookie, only knows some basic things about the infected and certain B.O.W.'s, where Ada has spent time snooping around Umbrella laboratories and doctors and knows a great deal, has much to teach him. Delta Team/Wolfpack are U.S.S. veterans, with one of them a virologist to keep the team appraised on such knowledge. And we shall see how GHOST fares against the Hunters and worse.

I'm sure they'll have a final boss fight of their own to deal with ;).

Ssj4 warriors: Well, you be a professional killer and not kill anyone for around three years. HUNK will be fine physically, lots of wood chopping and working out around Alaska, Rebecca's place, grow his hair long and a manly beard even... getting them chopped off for the mission, alas. But once he gets back in the saddle, is sent to Spain with Leon to save Ashley, he'll be a bit rusty in the particulars. Especially them being parasite monsters instead of zombies. Not knowing at first and thinking they are ordinary villagers... being less inclined to mow them all down at first. It's more mentally he'll be in a different place than where he was with Umbrella, three years of peace and calm with Rebecca, torn away from him suddenly by vindictive federal agents, and he's right back where he started, just for the U.S. Government instead of Umbrella this time. He'll put some oil on the rust before long, though, be back to his old ways, especially with Ashley challenging him lol. Though awesome as it would be, him kicking ass again, him going back to his old ways will not be a good thing for him, only leads to him joining Red Umbrella and Wesker at the end after he earns his pardon.

G. Fawkes: Accidental pun lol but one that worked well as the story came together. I was referring to the hard way of doing things, but it so happened that amusing moment was also in the chapter. That happens a lot in stories, where things work well for more than one reason without the writer even intending it while writing it lol.

Thanks for the heads up on that crocodile cap thing, I went and found an image of crocodile cap GHOST, but before the story I already looked at an image of GHOST's model beneath his mask, face textures, in the gallery on his Resident Evil wiki entry. It's close up and not the best of quality or lighting, like the crocodile cap pic I found, so a bit difficult to interpret, but I don't think he's African American. His skin seems lighter, has more of an olive tone to him, and remember his last name is Martinez, which definitely backs up a Latino/Hispanic ethnicity, Hispanic American. And his voice, for his sole line, sounds more like it could be Hispanic, for what that interpretation is worth anyways. There's a good picture of his exposed eye for his 'The Ghost Who Lived' achievement as well with good proper lighting that I looked at. Overall it seems a bit ambiguous, we never get to truly see him without the mask in an actual story cutscene, so I am just going off the name and interpretations of non canon and behind the scenes material. It's not like Capcom put much thought into making a throw away character like him lol, just like they didn't put any into RE 6's Agent. And I already constructed his character, backstory, family and history on my interpretation. His model also looks a fair bit older beneath the mask than he is in my depiction of him as a young rookie, so I am straying from that age aspect to make him more in line with Leon and with HUNK when he was young and first became a U.S.S. Agent, it being his first mission with the U.S.S. just like Leon was a rookie. Him being older in canon would make sense given U.S.S. would mostly hire professionals, seasoned soldiers for their special forces operations, but here in my universe he's decidedly a young rookie, which I thought would work better in the context of the story and his role in it, his character. The Hispanic thing for me also matches him up with Carlos. I see him as having had a Spanish father who is an employee of Umbrella Spain, and a French mother, like how Jill has a French father, and in this case GHOST is estranged from his father as well like her. I was sure to have GHOST sharing similarities and differences with the three main characters of Their Last Escape along with Leon deliberately. Glad you're enjoying the story, hope you continue to.

The references to me are more to show the similarities between GHOST and HUNK, certain characters sharing parallels of one another, which I enjoy doing, highlighting similarities and differences. HUNK not being stupid enough to punch a mirror dead on with his hand, knowing better, that they can be much harder than they appear, GHOST the rookie who buys the movie tropes and cliches, not so much lol.

Statuses of the Ghost Survivors in my universe:

Katherine Warren: Dead as a door nail, thanks to that psychotic Irons and her own corrupt father.

Sheriff Daniel Cortini: Dead. Zombie food.

GHOST: Alive/Ada's bitch. Lol.

Robert Kendo: Unknown/Undecided/Ambiguous. But part of me leans towards dead by suicide... not sure if he would have had the will to go on after being forced to kill his daughter, and losing his wife, home and city. Whether he survived or not, he will not feature in this story. The Ghost Survivors here are GHOST and Ada. Joseph Kendo is definitely alive, though, and would factor into the future.

Akira-Hayama: Thank you kindly, as ever, I enjoy doing that with thin characters like HUNK and GHOST who don't have much characterization or story to them, characters Capcom has wasted or not delved into properly... of which there are many lol. I was always better at jumping into a pre existing character and figuring them out from the inside than I am at creating outright OC's, though I am coming along there gradually. And having plenty of fictional inspiration, bits and pieces from characters of other series that I think work for characters. The Sopranos and other mob stuff helped a lot there for all the villains I write lol, making them bad but still human, coherent and complicated, with motives for things they are doing, reasons they are the way they are.

They were both in the right place at the right time, otherwise I think Ada and GHOST would have killed each other by now lol all about the circumstances of a meeting, where they're both at when it happens. They both met when exhausted, worn down, injured and at the end of their rope, the end of NEST. Too tired to fight... much lol. They're quite different, which lent itself to a good deal of material to work with in their interactions, but have some similarities and overlaps that work well. Plus Ada sees a challenge, someone to win over and convert/corrupt, bend to her own will, so there is that. Both strong willed, defiant, though her more so, GHOST is where he's at because of all he just survived before meeting her, otherwise she would be walking all over him with ease.

With the comedy I try to make it situational and absurd, given the surroundings, atmosphere and backdrop of the story, how grim and horror based it all is lol. I try not to have it turn the story into a farce, but make it realistic as I can, because of how batshit the setting is, especially from their perspective, a zombie movie brought to life around them, and a struggle to survive again crazy shit. The Sopranos again was very good at that, plenty of humor without it shaking the seriousness of the stories, character and situational humor, the absurdity of the situation the characters are in and their personalities, especially personality clashes. I couldn't see a story like Resident Evil played 100 percent seriously, it just wouldn't work. Ada and GHOST are well aware how crazy it all is, and are just so done with it all lol. Been through too much nonsense. GHOST isn't entirely meant to be comedic relief, you are right, but I want it clear he is turning into something of a bumbling fool, a joke, the sidekick. Still a fleshed out character, but you can see Ada is the real protagonist of this story, this guy is tagging along with her show and doesn't even know it yet. It's always a tightrope to walk between comedy and seriousness, I try to make the balance work, but of course it comes down to a reader's interpretation. And yes indeed, Ada and GHOST have similarities to HUNK, but are very different, much less introverted especially. They are both afraid of the situation they are in, as damn near everyone would and should be, the fact HUNK wasn't, considers it like a home, isn't meant to be a good thing for him. Shows the dark place he is in as a person. Ada is more professional than GHOST of course, and has more tragic circumstances, similar to HUNK, but she's her own woman, and I think HUNK troubles her as well, she hopes not to end up like that, staring into the abyss too long, even in the bad place she is in as well. The idea of GHOST sort of hero worshiping HUNK was important to me, it's another perspective on HUNK that was very much needed, the headspace of someone who bought the Umbrella propaganda and signed up because of him. Not realizing HUNK is an awful role model for anyone to look up to.

The social dynamic between Ada and GHOST was essential for sure, takes up a lot of the story as you can see lol I wanted a minimalist cast for this story, compared to Their Last Escape, only have others where it was absolutely necessary, and those others had to help flesh out the dynamic between Ada and GHOST in some way, similar to how Jill, HUNK and Carlos were the focal point of Their Last Escape, revolved around them. A story needs a centerpiece.

I wanted to scale back the action of this story compared to Their Last Escape, which was much more of a big journey than this one. This one I wanted to be more character focused, atmosphere, the place they are in. This being the aftermath of RE 2, the majority of the action has already taken place for them, and they managed to survive it. There will need to be more to escape of course, but I wanted to emphasize they are in a different place now character wise. Also action in stories is much different than writing a game, where of course you have to throw in as much action as you can, gameplay reasons and all. Above all I like the less is more approach to the monsters... until absolutely necessary, like the minimalist cast thing I wanted in this story. Sometimes small scale stories are just much better than epics, because they know how to focus, prioritize and do what they focus on well. Less is more.

I hope you are pleasantly surprised by who I decided for them to run into... it felt natural and right to me, as I'll explain more in my notes section at the end lol. Story and canon reasons, along with a way to play with the character dynamics of Ada and GHOST. They are different when it is just the two of them from how they are when there are others around, outsiders and insiders. I appreciate that lol nobody thought to make Ada and GHOST/Agent an actual couple, take a crack at it, a big part of why I decided to. Something new, different. I'm glad you think I nailed the dynamic and style of the relationship, which is quite different from Jill and HUNK, like the comedy it can be subjective if the reader buys the ship or not.

Thank you as usual, friend, always enjoy lengthy reviews that actually delve into the story, offer feedback and lets me think it over some more. Hope you enjoy what is to come ;).

Echo Five: I think HUNK would be too much for Jill's mother to approve of. He is a cold blooded corporate murderer/assassin, thief and war criminal, a big difference from a thief and a conman like Dick Valentine who she helped temporarily reform. She wouldn't approve of him, and who could blame her? He's still a dangerous and evil man. Chris won't for the same reason. HUNK would respect her for seeing right through him, as he does anyone who does, someone who doesn't buy the hype or legend surrounding him. Just sees him as the criminal that he is. It's why Dick Valentine would understand and sympathize with him better, being a criminal himself, and even Jill to more of a degree than her mother would, as a former criminal. Ma Valentine was too good for this sinful earth.

Not sure if the survivors of Wolf Pack by that point will even join Blue Umbrella. They might go mercenary instead, not sure. Difficult to see one or two of them going Blue Umbrella, that's for sure.

HUNK isn't hiding Sherry anywhere. He's taking her to Rockfort Island... where he will get to know her, and her fate will be decided by him later. But it won't be him taking her somewhere safe. He is the one taking her from one evil organization that wants to exploit her (The Family) to another (Umbrella). I think there will be seeing a bit of himself in Sherry, but more importantly, she'll remind him of the youngest daughter he has never met or known, Alice, who is about her age. Remind him of the parent he didn't get to be, and is woefully incapable of being at that point. Would let me explore a parenthood angle for him, the concept of being a father... on top of having been in part responsible for her awful father being dead. HUNK will not be a good guy in this story, but will be going through a hell of a lot of self reflection and introspection, over all that happened in his past and with Jill, and trying to be and do better, within the confines of Umbrella. A prison basically. Surrounded by evil people dragging him down, like Ashford, Dr Death, Colonel Vladimir, Comtesse Henri and various others. His old habits and routines. I see him as a somewhat sympathetic villain protagonist like Tony Soprano, a bad guy around worse people, trying to improve, but look at the awful life he is in, how much better can he get surrounding himself with evil and partaking in it as a profession? He won't have the freedom of Their Last Escape either, where he was away from Umbrella. A Code Veronica story would be him in the belly of the beast, with a new perspective from his Raccoon City adventure, and Jill and Carlos's influence clashing with his Umbrella life. Torn between good and evil, slipping back into his old ways while struggling not to. Growing further contempt for Umbrella and the people around him. You can't get healthy in the environment that made you sick in the first place. Jill was right to want him to flee Umbrella, HUNK was wrong to go back to them.

To all I just wanted to point out Capcom's most recent idiocy, censoring the dialogue of their VR version of Resident Evil 4. Already wasn't getting it, but it's just a bad sign for the upcoming remake, and future of the games. Feels like they never quite learn their lessons and keep finding new ways to fuck up, doesn't it?

Thank you all for the reviews, as ever. Now we get more into the meat of the story, the journey and characters. Hope you enjoy.

---

October 1st, 1998, 4:45 AM

Northern Entrance, Point K-12, Sewage Treatment Plant, Downtown, Raccoon City

"We there yet?"

"How many times have you asked that, now? What does it look like, Agent GHOST?"

"Sure we haven't gotten lost? Don't have that photographic memory after all? Think I saw that same pile of garbage three times. This is taking forever. A turtle could do this quicker."

"Perhaps so. Yet we've lucked out thus far, avoiding most of the infected and mutations. It's not like we're in any condition to be hurrying. We're nearly there. This is all quite familiar territory. We're quite a ways from the R.P.D. Reached the Sewage Treatment Plant. We are close now."

"All looks the same to me. Garbage, shit, and piss water. Corpses, cement, brick and metal."

"Fair enough. If you didn't have the mask, you would know it all smells the same too."

"Lucky me. Smell or not, still wandering blindly through a cesspit..."

"Oh, not entirely blind. You still have little old me, GHOST. Remember?"

"Maybe... but it's still a fucking cesspit. And you ain't the one wading through it, red."

GHOST cursed under his breath as they moved along, submachine gun at the ready, but remained close while the faintly amused woman in red took the lead for them in this stretch of the path down the tunnel ahead. Where she was small and thin enough to walk slowly along the small concrete gap at the side of the sewer, not carrying nearly as much as he was, remaining out of the shitty water... the agent had no choice but to slog his way through it, keeping his submachine gun at the ready, scanning the surface of the water with his flashlight. Nothing in the section of the sewer they resided in stirred ahead of them... of yet, but it was just a matter of time. The trip through the underground had been painstakingly slow, even with the necessity of it. Everywhere they passed looked the same... it was a maze, and he was lost... just as he had lost the maps. But she continually claimed to know the way... to have memorized it. A photographic memory. If it was true it must have been helpful in the spy business... he on the other hand had not been so lucky. Instead he had to put all his trust into a femme fatale who could shoot him the second he outlived his usefulness. And pray to God she hadn't been lying, that she really knew the way out of here and wasn't just planning on ditching him. Otherwise they were living on borrowed time, before they encountered monsters they couldn't avoid or fight their way through. They'd already had more encounters with the freaks of the sewers than he cared to think much about... for as many as they had managed to avoid, they'd been forced to take down a good number of them, no way around them or to avoid them. All the same... the memory of the parking garage and that elevator returned to mind, rankled at him... and deep down he knew it could have been much worse. And already he dreaded returning to the surface just as much as he looked forward to it. That's how it was in Raccoon City, of late... it came down to picking your poison and hoping for the best.

Well... he'd chosen his... the surface, and an alluring figure in a red dress he wanted to trust but was unsure if he should be. Now and again she glanced back over her shoulder and smiled at him in an enigmatic way, that hazel eye checked up on him... as if she knew he was watching her closely... knew what he was thinking. Only time would tell if his gamble paid off for him, for her or for both of them. He didn't even want to consider how much the odds were against him, there, and how much in her favor they were.

At a certain point, the sights of the sewer became a bit familiar to him, but between his haze and exhaustion he couldn't immediately place their surroundings. A heavy red titanium containment door lie ahead of them, opened already... and while she remained on the ledge he went to it, to ready the way to the rest of their path. She kept her pistol at the ready, covering him as he reached the ajar door. He froze in the water... as memory returned in a flash. Of course... this was Point K-12, he recognized... they had been here before... him and the others of Alpha Team, what felt a lifetime ago. This was supposed to be where they all would have regrouped... had it not all gone to hell instead. He looked to the familiar containment door... with the letters XD-R imprinted on it, along with a 1... the door ajar, with a wheel on both sides of the door... but with a number of thick dents in the door like someone... or something... had tried battering it open from this side they stood on. Had been unable to think clearly enough to simply turn the wheel. He had something of an idea who that might have been... his jaw tightening in the mask as he noted the familiar trio of claw marks running down the thick steel and titanium containment door. Glancing down at his reflection in the water, helmet bearing the same scratches from the same mutated claws. His gloved hand rose, fingers tracing along the claw marks with a low breath... noting the blood stains that had dried all over the door as well. In life the one who had made them had been a genius and inventor... if a madman... a virologist that GHOST had gunned down... in death... or whatever limbo the G-Virus had put him into, a mockery of life... he had become a primal beast, unable to think clearly enough to open the door... but clearly enough to have pursued them. It was gone now, at least, he was certain... along with many other freaks... with the self destruction of the NEST. The Birkin thing. Otherwise it would have surely found them by now down here... or they would have seen it stalking down the corridors and tunnels. Her quiet but assured voice spoke up again behind him where she stood overlooking the scene, cutting through his contemplation and grim memories of the outbreak.

"Lets keep moving. We're almost there, agent."

GHOST felt the woman's eye watching him, and glanced backwards to find her doing just that. She nodded very slightly and silently, understanding, gesturing with her pistol encouragingly to go on... though not pointing it his way, as she had before. He looked back to the door, and with a nod her way, rose his weapon again while she aimed the pistol at the open containment door, covering him from any infected or mutations that might have been waiting on the other side. Thankfully he heard no moans or screams from beyond it, nor gunshots from her pistol, and after taking up the MP5 again, he swept through the open containment door first, while she edged her way around the ledge and closer to the door, grimacing at the sight of the murky, potentially infected water, then her own stocking and bandage clad, bared legs, before looking back at him. Deeming the area beyond the door clear with a quick scan, looking back her way he understood what she was asking for silently at once. He knew the drill, by now. There was no taking any chances on her getting infected. Wasn't the first time down in this sewer he'd had to play knight in blood, shit and piss covered armor. Or her the hapless damsel she most certainly normally wasn't... any more than he was a knight. Necessity made them strange bedfellows... and forced them to fall into roles that were decidedly not them. Still... they had an unspoken agreement on that matter by now... neither one of them liking it any more than the other did, but not arguing about it any longer. At least QUARTERMASTER had made these suits well... there was no liquid getting into them... apart from the boots, of course... but it didn't make this any less annoying being reduced to this role... this capacity. Was he more a knight here... or a pack mule? Either way he felt like an ass. Drawing a low, reluctant breath, grimacing beneath the gas mask, he went over to her, before turning around to let her climb on to his back. She did so at once carefully, wrapping and locking her arms and legs around him, resting her head against his shoulder while he kept both hands on his risen submachine gun. When she was securely attached to him, her pistol aimed ahead to cover him again, he moved them both through the water, to and beyond the containment door and around it into Point K-12, carrying her additional weight with ease... slogging through the nearly hip deep water and making for the closest concrete ledge near the door again. Reaching it and turning around again so she could dismount on to it safely. She did so, unwrapping herself and climbing off him carefully, and he heard her heels clacking on the concrete... felt her touch and hold on him withdraw. Heard her quiet, grateful voice murmur behind him again.

"Thank you..."

"Can thank me by wearing a full combat suit like me, next time. Body armor. Or at least investing in a decent blouse, pair of pants and boots. Leather, preferably. Leave the dresses at home from now on, and for the parties. Seducing your hapless marks."

"My, my. Didn't take you for a fashion plate, agent. Dresses and heels have their advantages... you aren't entirely wrong, though. I simply had not expected to be slogging through these sewers, you know. To be down here as long as I have been."

"And yet... here you are. And here I am. Hip deep in shit. Literally and figuratively. Like you would be, if I weren't here."

"Not an altogether bad point... though you are unlikely to let me forget that little detail. I must remember to expect the unexpected."

"Espionage 101... shows how fucked up our jobs are, or were... that espionage should include monsters these days."

"Here, here. I'll take your clothing suggestion under future advisement, rookie. Let's just hope there isn't a next time of this sort..."

"With our luck of late? Ain't holding my breath there, red. Though you probably should be holding it, down here."

The woman calling herself Ada quietly chuckled under her breath at that dry remark, shaking her head, but as she rose her pistol and moved forward a bit down her concrete ledge to survey the area ahead, she did not reply. Instead their attention had returned to Point K-12 around them... where Alpha Team had infiltrated and set up at for a time, while part of the team including himself and HUNK had gone topside to infiltrate the Birkin's house. Several pipes ran along the ceiling and walls of the sewer, water flowing heavily from them... must have been raining on the surface from how much of it was pouring through... some small good news there, at least. Maybe he'd be able to wash all this shit off himself quickly. While a small barred up section near the door was visible, too small for anyone but a child to fit through. Yes... he remembered this place alright. Moving through here with the team all those days ago... when the only things they'd had to worry about were potential city workers and cops in the area. Or NEST security, at worst. All threats easily dealt with by the twenty five agent Alpha Team led by the Grim Reaper himself. That mad idiot Birkin would not have stood a chance against them, nor any of his hired goons or scientists, if it came down to it. Or the U.S. Government he had been colluding with, had they sent federal agents or black ops in. But how had that turned out instead? A bloodbath... as much for Alpha Team as for NEST... and the rest of the city, by now. Nobody had won anything, here. He shook his helmeted head at the grim memories, remaining silent, and looking elsewhere.

GHOST looked back to the sizable, powerful containment door, and was going to leave it ajar... but remembering the infected and freaks they had managed to avoid back where they had come from... he knew it better to be safe than sorry. Some of them had small flashes of intelligence... the advanced mutations mostly, but he doubted any of them could turn a door wheel or push it open. Still... no sense risking being followed. They had enough threats to worry about ahead of them... the last thing they needed was the freaks attacking from behind as well. Returning to the door, slinging his submachine gun next to the grenade launcher across his back, his gloved hands gripped the blood stained wheel, and with another exerted grunt, pulled the door shut towards him, the echo carrying through the sewer as it snapped shut. Both covered hands gripping the wheel tighter as he twisted and steadily locked it closed with a snap, sealing the sewer containment door again. His muscles ached from the effort, as they still would have even if he were in any condition to be doing this. Breathing harder through the mask as he concentrated, lowering his hands from the wheel once more. Stepping backwards through the water, he took up the MP5 in both hands again... glancing down in her direction at last. Ahead of him, she had paused where she was on the ledge instead of advancing forward... and he looked to her with confusion for a moment, about to speak, but broke off when his eyes and flashlight went where her eye went. Standing further down the tunnel, his flashlight illuminated the dark figure among the shadows he hadn't noticed in his initial quick scan of Point K-12. The figure was unfortunately recognizable at once, the moment the shadows were drawn back enough to discern what it was wearing.

A U.S.S. Agent... or rather something that had once been one, clad in a familiar dark grey undersuit uniform, yellow combat harness and equipment vest, black plate carrier, body armor, helmet and gas mask, was knelt in the murky, trash filled water over the floating, rotting corpse of a heavyset former maintenance worker. The corpse in question bore a single visible shot through its bald forehead and out the back. Muffled snarls and gurgling sounds were emanating from the gas mask as the infected agent tried in vain to feast on the corpse. Not even realizing it was wearing a mask, and was quite incapable of removing it, lacking the mental capacity. There were deep, vicious slashes in the back that had shredded through its body armor and undersuit, a familiar trio of claw wounds, revealing bloody, exposed, mutilated back and muscle beneath the undersuit... its helmet heavily scratched and dented too. Form coated in blood stains and from the grime that comprised the sewer. So lost in the intent of trying to consume the other infected corpse, it didn't even realize or pay attention to the beam of light illuminating it. From where the woman in red stood up on the ledge, he saw her glance back at him from the corner of her eye, heard her quiet murmur, just enough for him to hear but not the infected agent down the tunnel. Not that it was liable to make much of a difference, just now... all that mattered to it was feasting on a meal it neither needed or was even capable of eating.

"One of yours."

"Yes... was, anyways... this was the rendezvous point for Alpha Team... we were to meet here before departing the city limits, heading to the tunnel that led out there. NIGHTHAWK was going to pick us up in the Chinook... get us back to the Leviathan. Point K-12. Suppose that thing was the only one of us who made it here... unless HUNK passed through already. Damn it... I did not want to run into any more of them..."

"It's ok. Nothing to worry about. I'll take care of it for you.", She murmured quietly with a look and a nod of understanding when he fell silent. Looking back from him and to the infected U.S.S. Agent again. Starting to raise her Chinese burst pistol, her eye narrowing down it as she took aim with both hands. "It's not a problem, GHOST."

Part of GHOST was tempted to let her go through with it... to wash his hands of the matter entirely. But that was something he knew he could never really do... and he'd been hiding enough as it were for the past days. Could not hide behind her as well, doing his job for him... his duty... not where a U.S.S. matter was concerned. Especially being the one responsible for the agent's current condition... it was on him to resolve it.. to carry out what little there was left for him to do. What little he could do. He couldn't save the agent, undo what had happened... but he could set the agent truly to rest. Restore a small measure of dignity... instead of being reduced to a living corpse. God knew he would want that, if their positions were reversed. He took a step towards the woman in red and spoke up abruptly, before she could line up the shots and squeeze them off, holding up a gloved hand, raising his voice a little more to her.

"No... no I'll do it. Should be me. It was one of my team. HUNK isn't here, so it's my responsibility."

"I understand. Only too well. By all means, then."

The red woman lowered her pistol once more at his interruption, looking between him and the figure with visible interest, where the light caught her bruised face. Gun still at the ready though, just in case. With a low, muffled breath, GHOST turned from her and focused ahead again, forced himself to, looking to the mutilated figure kneeling in the water. Hearing the muffled moans and snarls escaping its mask as its food continued to elude it. Gloved hands shaking the rotting, soaked corpse of the maintenance worker in the water. Moving down slowly closer towards it, he rose his submachine gun at the ready, coming to a stop in the water not far behind from where it knelt. Swallowing, finding his voice, he addressed the thing that had once been an ally. A team mate. Speaking louder to it than he had to the woman in red, loudly and clearly.

"Agent GHOST reporting in! Now it's your turn! Identify yourself, agent!"

At his raised voice echoing through Point K-12, his demand, the figure leaning over the corpse futilely trying to feed stopped at last, then... before slowly looking back over its shoulder in GHOST's direction. Both red lenses on the gas mask were shattered, he saw, only a few shards remaining... and a pair of glazed over, unblinking, dead eyes stared back at him hauntingly through them. A sight of the many he knew he would take to the grave with him. The figure rose back up to its boots, the dirty water falling freely from its tattered uniform and armor, and turning it rose its arms and began shambling towards the water towards GHOST. Slowed by its condition, a visibly injured leg, material there torn away along with flesh and muscle exposed like its back, and by the hip deep water. It didn't report in its codename, as he had done, of course... instead snarling and moaning hungrily through its mask. Muffled, guttural sounds of suffering. GHOST rose the MP5 higher and aimed through the infrared scope, watching the dead eyes in that mask through them, drawing closer to him. Feeling a pang somewhere within... the regret... the knowledge of what he had done. Murmuring miserably to it as much as himself as his finger switched the selector on the weapon and settled on the trigger.

"I'm sorry... it was my fault. This is all I can do for you, now..."

Those inhuman sounds he was becoming used to were all the figure replied with. And he replied in kind with another equally familiar sound. With a squeeze of the trigger, the MP5 roared through the sewers, spitting out a burst of rounds, slamming into the center of its helmet, knocking and staggering it backwards through the water. Cutting off its moans and sounds in an instant as the armor piercing rounds made short work of the helmet, sparks flying around it and vanishing, and the rounds puncturing out the back of the figure's head along with its brains. The rounds slamming into the concrete of the wall beyond it. The infected agent fell backwards into the water unceremoniously with a final, gurgling moan, rippling splash around it... floating on the surface, twitching away and bleeding profusely. Gradually going still. Once it had... he slowly became aware of his surroundings again... felt the woman in red's eye watching him silently... but he ignored it, moving down towards the corpse of the U.S.S. Agent. He prodded it with his boot as its blood filled the already murky water... but it did not respond... didn't twitch further or rise up again. He was going to leave it... when the irresistible temptation came to him. He had to know... who had made it this far. And see the face of one of the team mates he had gotten killed. He owed that much. Carefully reaching for the broken gas mask, he unclipped it and rapidly drew his hand back with it, pulling it off and looking to the rotting, deathly pale, blood stained, face beneath under his flashlight. Barely recognizable. Barely. Those dead eyes still staring back at him, truly seeing nothing, now, blood running over the face. But those dead eyes condemning him for his guilt all the same. He released a low breath, eyes widening... cursing as he recognized the face... and heard her voice again speak up quietly from her position on the ledge.

"Who was she, GHOST?"

"GOBLIN 6... friend of mine. Showed me the ropes when I first joined Alpha Team, straight from Rockfort Island. And during the mission. Son of a bitch..."

GHOST heard his voice murmur back to her, muffled voice as dead as the corpse was, by now. He felt tired... and old... older than he ever had... older than he had back in that washroom, what seemed ages ago. His aches and pains already returning with a vengeance. The sleep, as much of it as he'd had, hadn't helped much... especially with all that had happened between the monitor room and Point K-12. Even now he was exhausted. And tired in a way that sleep alone couldn't fix. Slowly he rose his gaze from his fallen friend's dead, accusatory eyes, looking back down towards the spy. The guilt and grief continuing to twist and fuse together... to grow. She continued to watch him, bruised features carefully expressionless... before she broke the silence again. Speaking some words he never thought she would, tone carefully neutral, difficult to read as the way she looked back at him while delivering it.

"It's sad when they go so young. I'm sorry for your loss."

"When they go? Or when they turn into fucking cannibal monsters?", GHOST snapped at her all too calm, perfunctory, mechanical sounding words, unable to stop himself. Letting it pour out. His bitterness... grip tightening on the submachine gun at his side. What the hell did she know of guilt? Especially on the magnitude of death as he was carrying, now. Responsible for. Her robotic manner only adding salt to the wounds... for how well she could act, she wasn't even bothering now. Didn't find it worthwhile to put any effort into her pretending, emoting. Who the hell was he to her anyways, dragging him through all this? Just another mark, surely. For all her talk about trust, before. "No... you aren't sorry. This has nothing to do with you. You didn't know her, and you don't know me. You don't care. Don't pretend, it insults my intelligence. You're a spy, acting is all you do. You are not genuine, so don't bullshit me. I'm not another of one of your useful pawns to be discarded. Tools."

The U.S.S. Agent said it all more roughly than he had intended... anger forming and seeping out of him before he could stifle it. Guilt. Helplessness. Most of it not even towards the unnaturally calm woman in red. He had killed GOBLIN 6 twice over, now. Had gotten her infected and killed in the first place, with what he had done to Birkin. Now he had done it all over again. All of them were dead because of him... and this woman didn't know that. He could never tell her that. Couldn't trust her with anything. Even if she didn't end up killing him... she would kill him for sure if she knew what he had unleashed down here... and he wouldn't be able to blame her. He was where he belonged, in these sewers, hip deep in shit, piss, garbage, blood and death. Lying there floating in the water, as she was. It should have been him who died down in NEST, with the others. He wished that were so... now more than ever. What did he have left waiting for him on the surface anyways? Even if he did survive to escape? Nothing and nobody. Nowhere to go. It was all over for him either way. The best he could hope for was to see the ruined surface again, before the end. As he stewed in his bitter, miserable memories, though, her unwavering, calm voice spoke up again, with no hint of anger at the outburst... redrawing his gaze. Distracting him from the dark thoughts that plagued him.

"I might be. But I suppose you'll never really know, though. Nobody can truly know another's mind. And trust is a fragile thing, especially in our line of work. A fine thread. I know that well. Learned that lesson the hard way, long ago."

The woman in red admitted with a slight wistful smile at last on her bruised, bandaged face. She started to turn away... he thought she would keep moving, continue on and leave him in privacy... but instead she paused for a long moment... turning and looking back his way, something conflicted there in her bruised, bandaged features as he stared back at her silently. The light at the angle catching the red and black butterfly pendant upon her choker, making it glint at him. Whatever it was she visibly wrestled with, she released a slight breath and finally came to a decision over it, and speaking it to him quietly, hazel eye unwavering from him as she did so.

"John is dead too."

"What?"

"The man in the photograph you looked at, before. We were... involved. He's dead, now. Died last summer. I am alone."

GHOST stared back at her from where he stood in the water as the silence returned over Point K-12... trying to fathom what she was telling him. Confused for a long moment, before comprehension returned. Understanding coming to him... his earlier outburst about the photo... the man standing in it with her... feeling some embarrassment pass over him at the realization, face and neck flushing, unseen to her. All the same... she spoke of it to him for some reason... seemed to make herself more vulnerable than before... sharing it freely... and it only grew his curiosity. Finally, finding his voice, he inquired about it, despite part of himself doubting that he should... it wasn't his business any more than GOBLIN 6 had been hers... but he asked the questions anyways. Wanted to know more about her... whether it was true or not.

"What... happened? Who was he?"

"He was an Umbrella viral researcher, up in the Arklay Mountains. The Spencer Mansion. He was there, when it happened. Incinerated, along with the facility when the self destruction sequence was initiated by the S.T.A.R.S. survivors. If he wasn't already dead, by then... one of them. Either way... I never even got to say goodbye. I was... abroad. On another assignment, at the time."

"He was... involved with that? I only ever heard gossip, around Rockfort Island and the Leviathan. Stories about it. It's classified as hell... but word is it was that executive Morpheus Duvall's doing. Old man Spencer kicked him out of the Inner Circle and company for it, didn't he? Figures why. Lost one of his estates and everything thanks to Duvall, along with the old Umbrella Executive Training School and the Ecliptic Express. He might be rich, but didn't get that way letting his properties and investments be destroyed."

"No... Duvall was only distantly connected to the Arklay Laboratory, through the R&D Division supplying it. And he had nothing at all to do with the Umbrella Executive Training School or the Ecliptic Express. He was the fall guy, a scapegoat for Spencer to conceal what really went on in those mountains."

"And what did happen in those mountains? And with the train and school?"

"That's a longer story. The latter two involves your fellow U.S.S. Agents, actually, of Delta Team and the 1st Investigation Unit. Oddly fitting... the Umbrella Executive Training School was where Umbrella Security Service began, and where they first trained... from the late 60's through the 70's. The early days of the company, when it was still known as Umbrella Pharmaceuticals... before the global expansion. Long before your Rockfort Island."

"It was? Really?", GHOST started slightly, eyes widening a bit within the mask at the new information. Something he hadn't gleaned at Rockfort Island... he only knew some of the basics of the Umbrella Security Service... the history of it, and the gossip. The legends. Somehow this spy had gained access to a deeper knowledge of it all, it seemed. The company's history. "Didn't know that... I really am out of the loop, as a rookie."

"Yes. Maybe I'll tell you some more about it, the history... another time."

"Here's hoping... but another time is looking pretty damn optimistic, from where I'm standing. You've got me curious, though. Alright... I'll bite... why Duvall, then?"

"Spencer was looking for another reason to get rid of Duvall anyways, after his gross negligence in running the Bio-Sphere and its waste disposal facility off in the Atlantic Ocean, getting numerous employees killed when B.O.W's escaped. The UT Commander and his unit had to be sent in to clean the place out by Umbrella HQ, apparently... euthanize infected staff and hunt down and dispose of the B.O.W.'s. Wrote a pretty damning report for Umbrella HQ as well. Spencer never let that failure slide... but Duvall was in the Inner Circle at that time, had too high a standing to simply dismiss then and there for one contained incident."

"Send freaks to kill freaks. Figures."

"Exactly. And Duvall received an official reprimand for it afterwards. So with that on his record, it wouldn't look out of place framing him for something similar happening in the Arklay Mountains. There was a precedent."

"Cover up the outbreak within the company, and remove a pain in the ass at the same time. Two birds with one stone. Ruthless... but clever. Don't get where the Spencers are by playing the games they play nicely or fairly."

"To put it mildly. Duvall got off comparatively easily, compared to many others who have angered Spencer over the years. People he was far closer to, once. John was up there at the facility during the outbreak, along with a number of other scientists. His name was Dr John Clemens. Head of research and development. Replaced Birkin... when Birkin and his wife were reassigned from Loire Village and the Arklay Mountains to NEST to work further on completing Spencer's G-Virus. There was a T-Virus outbreak up there in the mountains... murders by the infected in the surrounding lands that drew the attention of S.T.A.R.S. officers here in the city. The outbreak up there was contained. Eventually. Time will only tell if this one is..."

She fell silent once more for a long moment in the wake of the explanations as he considered them, the pain there growing in her visage. Lips thinning. Closing her eye tightly... before opening it again, looking back at him... speaking with visible effort to keep her voice steady.

"You weren't wrong about me, GHOST... the things I do. He was my mission. I was... using him. It was my mission to get close to him. But...", The woman in red paused again in her tracks, voice concerted, trembling very slightly. He watched her swallow back her seeming grief or good impression of it, close her eye again tightly and shake her head. Forcing it and more back down, breathing slowly. And speaking again quietly once she was ready to, hazel eye opening once more his way. "It doesn't matter now. Makes no difference. He died never knowing who I really was. No surprise there, though. It would have been the same outcome if he'd lived. I don't even know who the hell I am, most days. I don't expect you or anyone to understand that. You're better off not understanding. I know somebody who does, and he's as miserable as I am... if not worse."

GHOST stared back at her silently at that, lips parting beneath the mask in alarm, studying the pain touching her hazel eye that had nothing to do with physical pain. Contemplating what she was telling him... wanting to say something to her, anything... to ask more questions... and just now, coming up empty. Whatever else she was... a dangerous spy who almost certainly lied often and well... he believed her now, on this. She wasn't lying... this was her as she was now. In a pain far deeper than her exterior. One that tortured her soul. Whatever cross it was she carried around with her. He felt pity, and regret... shame at his words before... for snooping through her photograph... for bringing it up. He wanted to apologize... but the words didn't form. He could not show weakness... any more of it than he knew he must have already had. As such, the only sound was the trickling of the sewer water and dripping of the pipes around them in the tunnel. Instead of him speaking, her sole eye looked between GHOST standing over the body, and the body itself floating in the water. Features thoughtful... before continuing calmly, tone remaining softened, but carefully controlled.

"Take what you can from your fallen friend's supplies. Honor her that way. By fighting on. Making sure this wasn't all for nothing. By surviving. It's probably what she would want anyways. But what would I know... right? I'm just some spy you bumped into."

GHOST looked at her a long moment longer, on that dry note of hers... looked between her where she stood out of the water and GOBLIN 6 floating in it, taken aback for a moment by the unexpected revelations and sentiment from her... before nodding, understanding. And silently agreeing. He had already wronged GOBLIN 6 enough as it were. There was no sense insulting her further by wasting what she had managed to carry out of NEST... and despite his feelings... she absolutely would want it this way. For him to keep going... to make it... as she hadn't. Not that it was of any real comfort. But it was the truth. Truth rarely was comforting. GHOST sighed through the mask and lowered down over the body a bit, beginning to gather up her spare MUP and MP5 magazines, tucking them away into his own pouches... all the more welcome, after the ammunition expended through the sewers getting here. He took her combat knife as well, a spare, retrieving it and its sheath. He found a couple spare incendiary grenades, gladly taking those at once, along with extra flares and a spare First Aid Spray... for all the good it had done her... he unclipped her medical bag as well. It was sealed, waterproof, like most everything else. He checked inside... noting everything within was present and untouched. Waste not, want not. He closed the bag up again, and along with it he unclipped the belt it was attached to with several pouches on it. Then he unclipped her flashlight from the strap on her shoulder.

As he was rummaging around within among her gear... he found her U.S.S. lighter on her, in one of the pockets... the white and black Umbrella logo standing out in the light glinting off it for the Umbrella Security Service... as chosen by Lady Spencer, long ago. Given to them upon their graduations and after swearing their oaths, becoming agents. More scuffed than the one he was carrying, worn... but then that made sense... she'd been on Alpha Team longer than him, on more missions. No sense letting it go to waste.

He tucked it away at last with a shake of his head, inserting it into one of the pouches on the belt with her sidepacks he took, draping it over his shoulder. At last, with the last of her supplies removed, he reached down for GOBLIN 6's blood stained face, closing her dead eyes and drew back upright, standing over her body. There was no sign of her primary or secondary weapons around... lost somewhere around the sewer, no doubt, deep in the water, or swept down the tunnel along the current. Or she had lost it earlier at some point, fleeing NEST. Fleeing the Birkin thing. He looked down at her mask he still held on to... the two shattered red lenses, only a few small crimson shards remaining in them. Turning it around... he found the camera set within it... set in all their masks, he believed... and removed it, studying it. The camera was intact, he noted... QUARTERMASTER's finest... and looking down to her bodysuit, he rummaged around some more, recovering the tape it was connected to. Maybe it was intact... something on it to be watched later, if there was a later. Part of him wanted to destroy the tape... but morbid curiosity won out, and he tucked it away instead, retrieving the camera from within the mask as well and stowing it away. The footage would not incriminate him anyways... she had not been in the lab when what had happened with Birkin had happened. Maybe it would help him make some more sense of what had happened down there... from her perspective of Operation: NESTWRECKER. Even now it was all chaotic in his mind... and he didn't want to dwell on it, just now.

Jaw tightening, he dropped the damaged gas mask at last down into the water beside her body. Watching as it floated on the surface for a moment before slowly sinking and vanishing into the depths of the murky sewer water. Remaining where he was, GHOST said what had to be, muffled, tired voice filling the area again, lined with his resignation.

Acceptance.

"It's done. There's nothing more I can do. Let's just get the hell out of here..."

"Yes. We're nearly there. For real, this time."

"Good. Had enough of sewers for one lifetime..."

GHOST stepped past her body, looking between it and the bloated, severely rotted corpse of the dead maintenance worker she had been trying to feast on in vain. He wondered if it had been her who put the bullet in its head or not... she had clearly managed to get through the containment door before succumbing to the T-Virus. She had no weapons on her... but, as he'd already suspected, she could have dropped them in the water, where the current could have swept them away. Another question he'd never get an answer to... unless it too was on her tape. All the more, his morbid curiosity for what was on it remained... even if it was all trivial, in the end. GHOST looked from them and down towards the end of the tunnel... to the two different paths, one up some stairs, on the ledge not far from the woman in red's position, and another down through an opened up filtration machine of the sewer treatment plant to the lower levels. The sounds of the falling, streaming water down there audible. The U.S.S. Agent looked over at the spy's slender, alluring red form for a moment over on the ledge silently... the idea coming to him. Or perhaps it already had, and only now his mind was catching up.

"Hey... 'Ada'?"

"Yes, 'GHOST'?"

The U.S.S. Agent moved down towards where she stood on the concrete ledge, then, passing through the garbage strewn, murky water, and coming to a stop before her. Lifting up the sheathed, serrated combat knife he'd recovered from GOBLIN 6, he clipped it to her shoulder straps, finding a good spot for it, and doing the same on the opposite shoulder for the swivel headed flashlight, flicking it on for her, brightening her path ahead. Doing the same with the medical bag and belt with sidepacks and pouches, fastening it around her waist and clipping it there, gearing her up a bit more, with more space for her to carry her things as well, if necessary. Nodding with satisfaction when he had accomplished this, he took a step backwards, taking up his MP5 in both hands again and looking back at her faintly startled sole eye again. Breathing through the mask... he said the two words aloud... meaning them.

"Thank you..."

She looked back at him a moment, then down to the items he'd clipped to her. Still looking a bit surprised by the gesture... but gradually it vanished from her features. Understanding replacing it. A faint, appreciative smile touched her bruised face, then, and at last she looked back down to him again and nodded, something silky yet gentle in her tone when she spoke, with a trace of a mysterious smirk.

"Of course. Have my moments... for a femme fatale..."

"So you do..."

He felt his lips returning her smirk inside the mask... but nothing more than that needed to be said, just then. There was a strange understanding that grew, once more. They remained where they were a moment longer, studying one another thoughtfully... before she looked back ahead and continued to lead the way. Black heels tapping on the concrete pathway ahead of her. They gladly left Point K-12 behind them, venturing deeper into the sewer system, and through the sewage treatment plant. He had to will himself not to look back at GOBLIN 6 lying in the water behind them... but vowed never to forget her. And to put all she had taught to and given him to good use. They remained careful to keep the woman in red out of the water as they moved on... thankfully there were more concrete ledges, pathways and routes here than there had been before... and less necessity to piggy back her around or wade through the water himself. Even more fortunately, there proved far fewer infected and mutations in this section of the sewer... though only because someone beat them to the punch already, had passed through here and killed everything that had stood in the way. They found various shot up, rotting corpses of infected and mutations alike along the way... some of the inside out things with the long tongues and jagged claws, Crimson Heads and the occasional Hunter. They had gotten far away from NEST after all, it seemed, the Hunters... he remembered the reptilians with the other freaks, rampaging through NEST after escaping their cryopods... decapitating scientists with single lunging swipes of their claws. The screeching sounds they made... B.O.W. predators. At least it left those ones incapable of coming back as a zombie. And they had disliked the infected nearly as much as they had the living, clawing any of them apart that got in their way. Most of the mutated and infected seemed to get along... but not all. The giant, lumbering thing in the long black trench coat and fedora he'd seen from the vents had been like that as well, smacking aside any infected in its way as it strode through NEST. Hitting them with such force even with a slight backhand that it broke bones in their bodies, collapsed them to the floor in heaps. At least it had saved him some trouble, when the B.O.W.'s were hostile to the horde.

There were even some of the... lesser G Things floating in the water... offspring of whatever the hell Birkin had become. Bulky, hideously mutated figures... mountains of muscle and meat... abominations... more alien seeming than anything of this world... lying dead all the same. Tough bastards, he recalled... but not possessing the same power as the one who had spawned them. Diluted perhaps, or incompatible hosts. They looked so malformed they might as well have been several hosts fused together... and for all he knew, they were. They had been in NEST, but now they thrived in the sewers. He hoped this was the last of them, that the majority had perished with NEST. The common infected were shot through the head and floating in the sewer water, 9×19mm Parabellum shell casings littering the area on the concrete or glinting in shallow parts of the water where their flashlights struck. A few spent 12-gauge shotgun shells as well, mostly for the mutations, the results evident from how torn up they were, and the dried blood staining the walls and concrete. That... and a number of the corpses suffered from broken necks and limbs, compound fractures, twisted at hideous angles, bones visibly poking through the decaying flesh. Common enough ammunition types at least... maybe the Raccoon City Police had passed through here... escaping the city... it was on the way to the R.P.D. Building they had just come from. Though it didn't explain all the broken appendages... had the precinct been teaching martial arts to their cops or something? What made him more curious was the way the woman in the red dress studied one of the dead infected with a broken neck... poking it with the tip of her high heel, a strange, amused expression crossing her face, of all things, red lips curling, shaking her head slowly but not saying a word.

She knew something he didn't... many things, really... but he didn't bother asking them of her. Not expecting an answer anyways. All that mattered was that whoever had made it through here saved them both a great deal of time and risk... and he gladly and silently thanked them for that. It wasn't long before they reached the long tunnel Alpha Team had taken to enter the city through the city limits... leading to the outer canals and Circular River, to the woods. He paused before it and looked inside while she recovered herself... remembering the infiltration again... all of them moving down the tunnel in their separate two man teams. Remembering more of his dreams before she had woken him. He had thought they would all come back through here again, once they had the samples and Birkin in tow. Thought they would return to the woods to set off some flares for NIGHTHAWK's Chinook... taking them back to the Leviathan, tossing Birkin's ass in the brig... and putting it all behind them afterwards. Returning to the Paris Facility. But it was not to be, of course. There was another escape plan now, at least... his only hope left. Only chance. Even if it meant depending on a stranger who confused, troubled... and enticed him. One difficult to trust... but one he felt like wanted to, for some reason. He looked away from the tunnel wearily, flashlight leaving it, and when she was ready to keep moving, they did so. Somehow he became more comfortable and familiar with their progress, even down in these sewers, much as he wanted to be out of them already. He couldn't imagine having to escape the city alone... running through this maze. He would have gotten lost early on, stuck down here and set upon by a monster. Cornered somewhere by the freaks and eaten alive. Instead he had her around... an expert... professional... always knowing where to go. It felt... good... to be able to count on someone in some way. To not be alone any longer. Whether or not he could trust her in the long term, her life was as much at stake as his own, right now. Maybe the necessity of life and death was the surest thing to bind two opposite strangers together... for better or worse. Eventually they reached a particular sewer section and ladder Downtown, leading back up to a closed manhole on the surface, and finally the woman in the red dress stopped them before it, turning back his way while he made sure the area was secure.

More corpses, thankfully, and not the shambling kind. Their inadvertent guardian angel had cut through the infected and mutations for them like a scythe through wheat. Deeming it free of hostiles, he lowered the MP5, looked back to and joined the spy before the ladder where she waited... and she nodded, looking between him and the metal sewer manhole above them. Breaking the silence that had formed between them for a time.

"This is it, GHOST... the street above is just outside the Apple Inn. Further down that concrete pathway where the trail of corpses leads goes on to the front of the R.P.D. and towards Main Street. A lot of barricades in that direction on the surface, thankfully... if we're fortunate, they should have kept the bulk of the horde away from here. This particular street was clear the last time I came through here. Still... could be another less pleasant story, by now."

"Yeah... after the parking garage... I get the picture. Know the drill." GHOST's low, muffled tone returned wearily, the memory of the infested garage still recurring and rankling at him. How close a call it had been... to say nothing of the inside out thing in the elevator. He made his way to the ladder and set a gloved hand on its rung, keeping the submachine gun down at his side in the other hand. Looking back at her eye again with a slight shrug, shaking his helmeted head. "Not sure when I ended up the point man... but whatever. Feel like killing something anyways. And give me a horde over wading through all that shit any day. Least it'll be out in the open, this time."

"That's the spirit, Agent GHOST. Anger is more useful than despair. You're learning after all.", She returned with some dry amusement of her own, red lips quirking faintly. Still, there was concern there, in her eye, grip tightening on the pistol at her side as she spoke. "Do be careful up there. If there are too many of them, like the garage... secure the lid again and come straight down. We'll find another manhole, on a safer neighboring street. Better safe than sorry."

"Aw. Didn't know you cared. Like I said, know the drill. Don't worry. I'll be careful. Would so hate to deprive you of someone to nag. Should save some of it for that contact of yours. Assuming he's not a zombie by now."

"It's more fun with you."

"Lucky me. Stay put. Be back before you know it. And try not to get yourself eaten."

"Funny... I knew you were going to say something like that. And I was just about to say the same to you."

"Regular Carnac the Magnificent over here. Stick to your day job, red."

"Doesn't take a psychic to read a simple mind, soldier boy."

"And you picked this simple mind for company. Says something about you, don't it? Stew on that awhile, Princess, while I head topside and play Andy Dufresne."

His equally dry, muffled tone returned, though feeling a trace of growing amusement at the teasing exchanges with her, seeing her red lips smile, somehow in spite of the horror and absurdity of it all, their surroundings. Maybe they both needed this just as much as one another to stay sane in a world gone mad. Either way, he nodded his battle scarred helmet in understanding. Then he set his boot on the rung, beginning a steady ascent towards the surface. His soaked black combat boots slipped now and again on the metal rungs, and he cursed as he nearly fell off... but managed to keep his balance and keep climbing. The higher he rose the more audible the rain above became, pounding against the lid of the manhole, beckoning to him, escape within reach at last. Reaching the top, cursing under his breath quietly, he slung the submachine gun and pressed both gloves against the manhole from below. Slowly exerting his strength, trying his best to ignore the soreness and ache it drew in his limbs. He could lift a good deal more then this... though admittedly that was in much better condition. All the same, he gradually lifted it up, but did not set it aside right away. Clumsy he might have been at times, but he was no fool. If he could help it. He wasn't about to surface in the middle of a horde of the rotting bastards. Through the small gap he looked for the horde awaiting on the street... for the feet of the many shambling figures and boots surrounding his point of view below... turning his head and form around on the ladder to do a 360 scan of the rain soaked Downtown street as best as he could. Breathing a sigh of relief at what he found... or didn't find, really, murmuring to himself.

"Oh thank Christ..."

To his pleasant surprise he glimpsed neither zombies nor mutated freaks from his position immediately... but there were rotting corpses of infected humans and some dogs laying around the pavement and sidewalks of the street. Unpleasantly remembering the vending machine at NEST and the corpse in the sewer bathroom, he wasn't about to get near those bodies. He couldn't tell if they were hibernating... turning into the Crimson Heads or Inside-out Men... or genuinely dead just yet. Likely there were infected further on... he was willing to bet no street was safe in this city... but for the moment, at least, the coast was clear. He rose the lid the rest of the way, carefully sliding and setting it down off to the side of the manhole, on the road. In an instant the rain was washing over him again, bouncing against his dented helmet, coating his uniform and combat harness in a sheen, and he emerged from the sewer, reaching the surface at long last, boots leaving the ladder and touching the concrete above in front of the manhole. He rapidly took up his MP5 again and scanned the vicinity of the street he stood on, surveying the area for hostiles he might have missed. A few came into sight on the street... but they were distant, shambling infected, scattered and disorganized, not in groups or a horde... and too far away to notice him. Preoccupied with their lurching or huddled about the road feeding on other corpses down there. All the same, he heard the moans of the horde somewhere beyond, over the rain pelting the road, and had the feeling there were quite a few more just out of sight, on other neighboring streets, behind barricades. But for the moment he took in the immediate street alone.

There was wreckage all over the street, of cars, trucks and other vehicles, along with barricades just as she had said, barring access to a number of other roads. There were some visible alleys around the area... he couldn't see into them all, but nothing yet shambled out of any of them. A flipped over bus, even, glass all over the rain soaked roads. Burnt out vehicles... but the fires that had burned on this street had long since been put out by the downpour. He knew the horde was close... but they were lucky by happenstance this street was cut off from most of the others. Even so, the sounds that they were making, how close they surely were, was not the least bit reassuring. He heard the cawing of distant crows, but could not be sure where they were coming from at his position. Or whether they were infected ones or not. In the distance he saw the elevated highway that ran around the city and to its limits, again just as she'd mentioned was close to their destination. He couldn't make out much of it from his position, but he saw an underpass down the street, along with light posts up there and some debris and vehicle wreckage... railings running along the side as well. He removed his binoculars and rose them to his shattered and intact mask lenses... zooming in, activating the night vision in them... scanning the highway some more. No movement up there... no figures. Though it was only one part of the highway.

Removing and tucking away the binoculars, his eyes rose higher still... to the darkened storm clouds, and he checked his watch for the time. It was fairly close to morning, but you wouldn't know it from the look of it... the light hadn't begun its approach just yet, with the storm in the way. The street lights were still on around the road, some broken, some flickering, others intact, and illuminating certain parts of it. His gaze lowered from the looming highway and stormy skies and back ground side... to the various stores and buildings that were around the street close by or further down it. Many of them wrecked or boarded up, naturally, including a deli across the street from him. That wasn't the case for the building to the north west of his position, looming over the agent where he stood on the street. None of the windows on it were broken or boarded up, though the front wooden door was, one of two of them broken down into the hotel. Corpses littered the sidewalk in front of it, but not the walkway to the doors. Though he could see visible blood stains on the concrete leading to the breached hotel doors, along with footprints through it, and bloodied smears over the windows. The building's architecture a fairly impressive sight, even now. A sizable, lavishly designed hotel, at least several stories tall... its sizable red neon sign atop the cover overhanging the entrance still glowing down on the semi darkened street, washing over him like the rain was. Beckoning to him tantalizingly with its burning, crimson light.

Apple Inn

The words shone back at him and was reflected in the puddles on the street. Sure enough, as she had told him, they had reached their destination at last. Certainly looked like the sort of place a woman like her would be staying in... fancy. High class... even now, in a city like this one. Relatively untouched by the destruction. If she had allies, contacts... supplies and a way out of the city, it was here waiting for them at her room. She was a super spy of some kind alright... so hopefully she had something useful. Could radio in an evac chopper or something. He still wasn't sure how they were going to get past the Quarantine Zone... she had mentioned they had rocket launchers and were killing anything that tried escaping the city. That probably meant shooting down helicopters as well. But those unpleasant details would be for her to resolve. All he had to do was stick close enough and get the hell out of here with her. It felt good not to have to worry more than he already was. And even then... the relief he felt being above ground was already becoming intoxicating. He looked down over his rain soaked form, hearing the steady beating of the rain against his helmet, watching it run down his intact lens, while the rain dripped off the shattered once. His battered, tattered form was already soaked with a sheen of water... the dark grey material of the undersuit looking black in the rain and red lighting. The grime, shit and piss of the sewers steadily being washed away in a puddle at his boots. He felt a smile form beneath his mask, and he drew in a low, relaxed breath. It felt damn good to be topside again alright... to see the skies and the buildings, even in their state... to feel the freedom... even if their troubles were far from over. Not even the moans really put him off here out in the open, as they had down in the sewers and NEST. They had a chance up here that they hadn't below. He was tempted to remove his gas mask... to breath in the cold air... but kept it where it was for now. No sense wasting time. It was enough the way the cool air rushed through the shattered lens and cooled his heated face.

Though, he remembered, he had one other matter to attend to before he could tell her the coast was clear. Once he was certain the street was secure, the distant shuffling infected still not having noticed him, he knelt back down on the pavement, metal knee pad scraping the concrete, and undid his combat boots, taking the time to pour out the dirty sewer water inside them on the road with a grimace, before rapidly putting them back on and lacing them up again. When he was done, satisfied, he looked down the manhole to her familiar figure awaiting far below in the sewer, looking back up at him. Muffled tone calling down to her, echoing down there around her.

"Clear for now! Matter of time before that changes! Get your fine ass up here, red!"

"So you have been looking, have you agent? I can hardly blame you."

"As if you weren't looking my whole way up the ladder! Now move it, Princess!"

Below she looked back up at him where she stood at the base of the ladder, some amusement touching that solitary eye... a faint quirk of her lips again. But nodding, she holstered her Chinese pistol and reached for the rungs on the ladder with both hands, carefully climbing as well. Not as easily done in heels, but she seemed to manage well enough. Mostly. He saw the pain there, in her features, that she was fighting to keep in control of. Biting her lip. Jaw tightening, in spite of himself, he felt a pang of sympathy. When she was close to the top he slung the submachine gun, offered his hand and after glancing between it and him for a second, she took it gently. He carefully lifted her with ease up and out of the manhole, arm wrapping around her waist, before hoisting, turning and setting her down on her heels on the concrete... relinquishing his hold on her. As soon as he did she took up her pistol again, looking back his way and her bruised face smiled again faintly. In a matter of moments, like himself, she was rain soaked all the way through, dark hair, red dress and injured features damp, but clearly enjoying the cool, rejuvenating sensation, breathing in the fresh air around them. Breathing it all in slowly.

"Thank you. Imagine that. Crude or not, you can be a gentleman when you try."

"Only when you act like a lady. Two way street, red."

"I've noticed."

Her red lips smirked deeper at his dry tone, but she said nothing more on the matter, just then. Instead she drew and rose her pistol again and covered him as he knelt down on the concrete once more... and with a grunt of exertion grasped and lifted the lid. Settling it over top of the manhole and closing it up again behind them, as it had been with the containment door. No sense letting anything follow them up that was lurking down there somewhere. Something that whoever had shot up the sewers had missed... or that they had. When he was finished securing it into place, he stood up again, taking up the MP5 and turning, standing at her side as she surveyed the devastation of the street for herself. Looking between the Apple Inn and the rest of what the street and vicinity had to offer. There was not relief to be on the surface again... but instead something grim there in her features in the street light as she examined the area, eye looking among the various corpses, and the distant shambling zombies amid all the wreckage of the vehicles and buildings. Goose bumps forming on her flesh from the cold, as the rain soaked her flesh, bandages and dress. When she spoke again her tone was as weary as her expression had become, sole exposed hazel eye looking back at him again, and gesturing towards the hotel with her pistol. Tone quietly, tiredly amused.

"I leave home for a day or two and look what happens. Come on, then. Right this way. Before we draw unnecessary attention."

"I'd settle for no attention period, in this city."

"That makes two of us, there."

The woman in red nodded in the direction of the street, the scattered, unwitting infected shambling around it at various points... then she took the lead for them, moving through the rain and towards the sidewalk, her red dress and face illuminated in the red glow of the neon light. Strangely beautiful, in spite of all her injuries that stood out, the bruises. Otherworldly... or from some old noir movie in the neon light, rain, and darkness of the skies. A femme fatale walking with a purpose for a rendezvous, heels clicking on concrete, commanding her surroundings. Which he supposed wasn't far off the mark, given her line of work. All he needed was a trench coat and a fedora like Sam Spade or Phillip Marlowe to match the mood, like the giant bastard down in NEST had had. But here and now was most certainly not the time or place to be thinking the thoughts he was about her. He needed to at least try to prioritize, here. At last he shook his head, returning to his senses and followed suit after her, submachine gun at the ready, looking to the corpses as they approached them out in front of the hotel. None of them stirred or twitched. Some had bullet rounds through their heads... others had been beaten in the head with a blunt instrument... others still had nails embedded in their skulls, of all things. The absurd sight almost making him chuckle through the mask. They didn't seem to be hibernating or mutating, at least... but he stayed out of their grabbing reach with her regardless, neither of them taking their chances, and didn't take his eyes off them until they were past the sidewalk and headed to the front door. His eyes and her eye moved down to the dry spots out of the rain beneath the overhead cover in front of the hotel... noting the dry blood stains again, a pair of shoes and boots tracking through them towards the pair of doors, and over the broken down one. Together they moved through the doors, catching view of what lie within... a short hallway to a second, metal door into the lobby. As they entered, he spotted a broken, blood stained ventilation grating on the floor of the hall, aiming up at the open hole above into the vent, deeming it clear of the Inside-out Men, before moving forward over the broken door and bent grating and towards the second intact door at the far end, feeling the spy following behind him, covering him with her pistol. Beyond the broken grating and door, along the floor of the hall there was a blood trail of droplets and dirty, bloody, wet shoe and boot prints leading down towards the second door. Prints and stains the two of them, fresh from the sewers and the rain, only added to.

They followed the prints down towards the metal door at once, her heels clicking as she went ahead of him to it. GHOST caught sight of drying blood smears on the door and handle as well, the trail ending there. Above was another ventilation duct, though this one open already, without a broken vent lid below it on the floor... he scanned it with his weapon and flashlight all the same, deeming it clear. The spy calling herself Ada gripped the door with her bandaged hand, trying to open it... but it remained stuck fast, to her visible irritation, glancing back his way and speaking.

"Door is locked. Somebody is certainly home."

"Don't have a key?"

"Just the one to my room."

"You're a super spy, can't you pick the lock? Got a set hidden in your stockings?"

"Funny. But I left it in my room next to my exploding pen and pack of rocket cigarettes."

"No shit? Into Bond movies too? Maybe you're not half bad after all. Required viewing in the spy business, I suppose. Have a favorite?"

"The last one, as a matter of fact."

"Heh. Why am I not surprised?"

"Hmm. Yourself?"

"More of a Sean Connery short of man myshelf, Mish Moneypenny."

"No more surprised than you, Agent GHOST."

"I take it that ain't a laser watch you're wearing either. Fair enough, mine isn't either. Think QUARTERMASTER only gives them out to HUNK, with my luck. We'll use an old U.S.S. method to get through, then. Not exactly a covert operation anymore... don't always need the stealth approach. Stand aside, lady."

"I know the U.S.S. approach quite well already, GHOST. I can handle that much just fine on my own. Have before."

"Hey, unless you're a hell of a lot stronger than you look, be my guest. Knock yourself out. Break a leg, rather. I could use a good laugh, if you think you can kick it down on your own. I'll be right over here when you need me to handle it for you. As usual."

The woman in red said nothing to that, merely rose a brow and smirked faintly again, gesturing to the door with her gun and stepping back out of his way. As she did, she drew the combat knife he'd recovered for her in her left hand, readying it along with her burst pistol for whatever might have been waiting for them inside. Taking up a stance with the two weapons... not dissimilar from HUNK's, GHOST noted silently. Moving to the side of the door, clearing her path, GHOST readied his submachine gun as well, drawing a low, muffled breath, the tension building... for whatever lie beyond the door for them in waiting. He glanced back at her again, and she nodded encouragingly. Raising and drawing back her good leg. But instead of slamming her heeled foot into it right away, she surprised him. Instead she aimed her pistol at the lock, squeezed the trigger and fired a burst through it, shattering the lock in an instant, and then followed it up by kicking the weakened door frame with all the strength she could muster. Not even releasing a grunt. Ignoring the ache and pain it surely must have drew to her leg. There was a carrying echo, and the breached door burst widely open, slamming against the other side. In an instant he rushed through the open door past and ahead of her, MP5 sweeping into the hotel lobby that lie beyond, feeling the spy following behind him, covering him with her pistol. In an instant the two of them were through and inside the hotel lobby, the echos of their feet carrying through it. He quickly surveyed the spacious interior... richly carpeted, decent ambient lighting, a number of plants, tables and wooden doors, paintings along the walls... a long front desk receptionist area and a red carpeted stairwell with twin banisters leading up to an upper area towards the north east, and an unoccupied bar in the lobby, along with an elevator. He scanned the area for hostiles, and soon found them... though decidedly not in the form he had been expecting them to be in.

"Hold it right there!"

Two other rain soaked figures sat on one of the luxurious sofas in front of an impressive, lit fireplace... one of them leaning over the other and bandaging their leg steadily. A couple of opened bottles of scotch sitting on a table nearby with other medical supplies of theirs, including assorted herbs. A few lamps illuminating the area further, resting on other tables near the sofas and around the lobby at various points, in addition to the main lights overhead. A number of scattered corpses of the infected employees and staff were littered around the lobby floor, blood pools below them, shot through the head by the weapons of the two survivors who had cleaned the floor as they had the sidewalk outside. When they burst into the lobby, the figure helping the other rose from his work with a start, snapping up a weapon from a tool belt he wore and aiming it their way, holding it sideways in one hand like some street gangbanger. While at the same time the injured figure remained seated, drawing a SIGPRO SP2009 pistol and aiming it properly in their direction with both hands, both of them startled by the spy's gunshots, the intrusion and GHOST's shout, but adjusting quickly to the arrival of the agent and the spy. The one standing was a tall, muscular man with tied back, long black hair tied back in a pony tail... features rugged, disheveled and stubble lined. He wore a pair of beige heavy duty workman gloves on the tool weapon he held, along with a matching toned blood stained, maintenance or plumber jumpsuit uniform zipped down partially revealing a sweat soaked white shirt and a necklace beneath, along with a pair of brown workman's boots. A tool belt hung on his waist that was lined with pouches, holsters and blood stained tools, among other items and weapons. Including some knives, a couple Molotov Cocktails, a Zippo lighter duct taped to a can of pesticide spray, an improvised stun rod comprising of a metal pipe connected to a battery and series of wires, and a long, bloody, well used pipe wrench. One he looked like he could swing very hard, from how built he was... and GHOST remembered the caved in faces of the infected outside... spotting a few more like them in here on the nearby floor.

He looked somewhere in his thirties, roughened, wore a dangerous expression amplified by a pair of steely grey eyes as he stared back at the U.S.S. Agent, unwavering, unblinking. Quite unimpressed by the agent's appearance or his own weapon. GHOST kept the MP5 leveled at him, focused intently on the man dressed like a plumber or heating engineer, the closest threat. While the spy behind him aimed her burst pistol in the other figure's direction, a woman holding the SIGPRO. GHOST was the first to speak, addressing the dark haired man first.

"Drop the goddamn nail gun, MacGyver! Do I look like a plank of wood? Don't answer that."

"Not dropping a fucking thing, bub... except you when I put one through your eye. Got a good shot lined up too.", The dark haired man's low, grizzled, unimpressed voice returned sharply. Grip tightening on his makeshift weapon he held sideways, aiming down at the agent without batting an eye at the submachine gun. GHOST knew this one meant business... would be trouble for anyone against him... a threat that had to be dealt with one way or another. He was clearly no match for the MP5, but still he acted like GHOST was pointing a stick at him instead of a gun. "Lose the hardware or lose an eye. Now."

"You'll try, tough guy. Stick to fixing toilets and stand down. We've got you dead to rights."

"You've got nothing. And from the smell of you, think you could use a fixed toilet. Been wading through all the shit in the sewer or something? Fall down an outhouse? Make a move. I dare you."

"That can be arranged. Been through too much just to back down to a Harry Tuttle wannabe. Now drop the fucking tool, or I drop a fool. Couldn't hit the broad side of a barn holding it like that anyways."

"Got a smart mouth on you, kid. Think playing dress up in that body armor and mask makes you tough. Been through a hell of a lot more than you think you have. Let's see how big you talk when I shove that submachine gun up your...-"

"David! Look at them. They aren't infected. There's no need for all this. No time."

The second, injured figure sitting down cut the plumber off, then, the one the spy in red was covering... and GHOST's eyes in the mask shifted to her. She was a black woman somewhere in her thirties like the man, with her dark hair tied back in a tight bun, while she wore a dark skirt with stockings and a uniform-like tan coat of some sort. Upon it was a badge with her name and face, identification, but he couldn't make it out from where he was. What he could make out was the telltale red and white Umbrella logo sewn to the uniform on the material just above the identification badge, on her heart... the sight of it giving him pause, in spite of the tense atmosphere. A fellow Umbrella employee of some sort, it seemed. Small world. Though perhaps not really... Spencer owned Raccoon City, there were numerous employees in it and establishments... or had been before the outbreak. To say nothing of how many employees there were globally. Was she from NEST or one of the other Umbrella properties? Her right leg was covered in a thick white bandage, bloodied, stretched out atop a table in front of the couch, and the intense pain was visible in her features, but still she managed to bear it. The woman looked to her partner and was the first to slowly lower her pistol, setting it down on the couch beside her, and settling a reassuring hand up on the man's muscled shoulder reassuringly. Squeezing it. Calm but pained voice speaking up over the tense scene.

"It's ok. We don't need to turn this into a standoff. Or pissing contest. Let's all just cool off here and stand down... alright? We have enough at stake... as it is. We're all in the same boat. Let's just lower our weapons and talk this thing out. Ok? Nobody here wants to die."

No... they didn't. The man she called David didn't speak and didn't take his eyes off GHOST... not right away. But a glance in his partner's direction told him she had lowered her own weapon, and he looked to her reassuring hand on his shoulder, returning his hard gaze back to the agent. For a moment GHOST thought he would pull the trigger anyways... though was glad to end up being quickly proven wrong. Drawing a low, weary breath the plumber reluctantly complied with the woman, lowering the industrial nail gun down to his side, and GHOST at once reciprocated the gesture in kind, lowering the submachine gun but keeping it in both hands. Releasing a muffled breath of relief, GHOST looked back ahead to the two other survivors at the couches. The last thing he'd wanted to have to do was open up on them. Look at all the good it had done the city the first time he had gunned down an Umbrella employee. With his luck she was hiding a G-Virus sample herself anyways, and would jab herself with it. Finish what Birkin had failed to do. And with his luck, the plumber would make that shot to his eye even with his thuggish style of holding the nail gun... the broken lens practically a bullseye. All the same, despite the stand down on both sides, the civilian man looked thoroughly displeased, hesitant at the compliance... not that GHOST could blame him there... well aware of how he must have looked to them as he was. Once things cooled down visibly, the Umbrella woman lowered her hand from the plumber's shoulder and looked back at GHOST, managing a thin, pained smile, addressing him calmly and gently.

"I'm sorry... we're just a bit jumpy... on edge. You can understand, I'm sure."

"Oh, I think I can alright."

"Your uniform... you're a Special Agent with the Umbrella Security Service, aren't you? Did Captain Rodriquez send you down here to help? Escort us back up to the highway? Is it safe to move yet, or is the sniper still up there?"

"Can't be. He told you he would leave without us if you didn't return on time, remember?", The dark haired man with the nail gun spoke up to the woman, looking her way with a shake of his head, tone as muttering as before. "We're late. Can bet his ass flew that Chinook away to the rallying point outside the city by now. We'll need to go with our plan B, regroup with the others up at the troop trucks. Take one out of here and never look back."

"We won't know for sure if he's left until we get up there. I hope to God he hasn't taken off. We'll have to head around back... avoid the sniper."

"Assuming there's only one of them camping up there."

"Uh... Chinook? Others? Captain Rodriquez?"

GHOST replied to their exchange with growing confusion, looking between the injured woman and disheveled man, not quite sure what the hell they were even talking about. Something he had stumbled into the middle of suddenly that these other survivors had been caught up in. An adventure of their own, clearly, with him playing the role of a mysterious outsider and stranger again. Not really a role he'd ever thought himself capable of, but here he was, the odd one out. He considered it all for a moment or two. Had Sir Maxwell finally got off his ass from behind that desk of his and sent in the cavalry after all? Were U.S.S. Agents being deployed to the city to clean it up at last? The idea of it was welcome... but he didn't dare get his hopes up. The name of the Captain was familiar... but he didn't know it. Hadn't been with the U.S.S. long enough to learn all the ins and outs and notable players. It was a global paramilitary faction anyways, comprising of thousands of agents, he couldn't be expected to know how many there were or know them all, much less memorize all of them. He wasn't HUNK. He looked back between unusual duo of survivors again, instinctively answering as best as he could, or starting to, anyways.

"No... I'm not with Rodriquez or here for you. Don't even know who you are, lady. I was dispatched to the city from the Leviathan with my team to...-"

"Doctor Linda Baldwin. Umbrella researcher. She works at the Umbrella R&D Center, across the city. With Doctor Carter. Testing B.O.W.'s there. Tyrants as well."

A familiar cool voice cut him off abruptly, the woman in red moving up closer to him, setting her hand on his shoulder and shooting him a silent warning look and head shake that he was certain meant 'shut up'. Her burst pistol was lowered at her side as well as her combat knife sheathed again, though the pistol ready to snap up on a moment's notice. He started at the interruption, as did the others... she had been so silent while hanging back that neither of them had seemingly realized she was there with him... and he had somehow forgotten about her in the excitement of the confrontation. More a ghost than he was, it seemed. He realized almost at once what he had been about to blurt out freely, his covert operation. Understanding her intent... not to give away too much to these outsiders, going silent instead. He sheepishly glanced back at her and shut up as she took charge for them, stepping over in front of GHOST, heels clicking, the two survivors looking her way, startled by her appearance even more than they were of his. He found himself silently grateful when she took over... this was more her line of work than his anyways. A social sort of spy who wasn't liable to trip all over herself, especially at such a critical moment. He simply hung back instead and watched it all play out as she went on, going on the offensive, making demands of the Umbrella woman, staring hard at her.

"What are you doing here? Why didn't you evacuate the city with the other non NEST company employees already? There was ample opportunity during the outbreak."

"Who the hell are you?", The Umbrella woman named Linda returned to her at last, still visibly startled by the spy's appearance, looking back at her. Looking as bewildered as GHOST was by the proceedings, suddenly feeling like the stranger in all this. Then again... Umbrella employee status or not, he really was one, just like the plumber now, all of a sudden looking equally baffled, though holding his tongue as GHOST did. "How do you know all that?"

"It doesn't matter how. I do. Answer the question."

The two women stared hard at one another for a long moment, each as silent as the other. GHOST could have heard a pin drop in the lobby of the hotel. Instead all he heard was the distant moans outside and the rain... at least until the Umbrella woman relented, breaking eye contact with the icy woman in red and shrugging slightly. Wincing in pain at the movement, and breaking the silence as well with a quiet sigh, looking between GHOST and the red woman.

"May as well tell you that much... going to blow the lid off more than that when I get out of here anyways. Not letting them cover this up. I missed my initial evacuation... stayed behind... Carter did as well... he was killed by an escaped experimental Tyrant, back at the R&D Center. Codenamed Tyrant R. It's a long complicated story. I ended up swept down the facility's waterworks. Encountered survivors afterwards... David here, and the others of his group. We've been stuck here Downtown, trying to find a way out of the city. We have one now, but the U.B.C.S. is probably still up there on the highway. Directer Tommy Nielsen brought in a clean up team, probably at Colonel Vladimir's behest. They're after Captain Rodriquez... he and his team defected from Umbrella Security Service, they have access to a Chinook helicopter and have stolen one of the company's B.O.W.'s. Codenamed Nyx. He was going to get me out of the city, but I had something important I was after, first... that I can't leave the city without. He said he'd wait for a time, I thought I had enough time... the sniper up on the highway decided otherwise. We've been stuck in here since."

Doctor Baldwin grimaced painfully on that note, looking down at her bandaged leg with irritation. GHOST's eyes followed it, but the red woman's exposed hazel eye did not. Remaining focused on the Umbrella scientist, continuing to question her. The plumber remaining silent and still, keeping his own distrustful gaze on the woman in red. GHOST contemplated it all in silence as well... bewildered by it all... though considering especially the defection of a U.S.S. team. Before Raccoon City it would have been unfathomable to him... now... after all that had happened? He didn't know the man or the other agents, but found he couldn't blame Captain Rodriquez in the slightest for fleeing. Felt a stirring of sympathy and pity for the man even if he managed to escape. If Umbrella found out, something told GHOST that a Grim Reaper would be knocking his scythe on the Captain's door sooner or later, along with the doors of each of his men. If he was really U.S.S. he had sworn an oath, as GHOST and everyone else had... now Rodriquez had broken it. Also as GHOST now had, it seemed. The Captain wouldn't be the first traitor Death had dealt with, from the company stories, tracked down and pursued to the ends of the earth. Tying up loose ends. Maybe if the world believed the Captain and his men were dead, as it believed GHOST was, they might stand a chance... but it didn't sound like that was the case, here. Umbrella was in the know, and the Captain's days were numbered... and he probably didn't even know it, yet.

The same fate would befall GHOST as well, he knew, if Umbrella and HUNK ever found out what he was doing here, with the woman in red. The thought was far from a comforting one. Their voices returned him from his stream of thought, then, before he could contemplate it further.

"And what was this oh so important item you were after? That you would risk being left here to die, for?"

"None of your business. It doesn't concern you."

"You might be surprised what my business is, doctor. And what concerns me."

"I don't know you, but can guess. You have corporate espionage written all over you. Shén Yà Pharmaceutical? Tricell? A government agent from Beijing, perhaps, they've been trying to muscle their way in on the bioweapons market, lately.", Doctor Baldwin suggested coolly, though clearly rhetorically, expecting little in the way of a response. She got none from the woman in red, who remained silent, cold and still. Betraying little at GHOST's glance her way, beyond a slight narrowing of her eye at the inference the evidently well informed, experienced scientist made. The doctor sighed under he breath, leaning back a bit further where she sat, going on. "Doesn't matter now, I suppose. I'll be telling Spencer where that sick old bastard can shove this job, soon enough. Not much time is left. All that matters now is that we survive and escape. One task at a time. Just help us get to the highway and through the U.B.C.S. If we can make it to the truck to regroup with the other survivors, we'll be able to take you with us out of the city limits. Plenty of room in those trucks. What do you say? We got a deal?"

The woman calling herself Ada remained silent, looking between the doctor, plumber and himself. As well as the surroundings of the Apple Inn... looking over the infected corpses of the staff and towards the staircase further down, near the main desk. The other two glanced at one another again as she seemingly thought the offer over. GHOST felt his pulse quicken a bit at the prospect of escape. He wanted out of the city, by any means necessary, any possibility, however remote. Whether it was their plan or hers, it made no difference... escape was escape and he wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. The Quarantine Zone still troubled him... he had his doubts a truck could get through it based on what she'd told him of its defenses... but it had to be better than sitting around here doing nothing, waiting to die. Maybe they could find a way... a route the military wasn't concentrated at. For a moment he thought she might accept... he thought he saw something like hesitance flicker on her bruised, bandaged face, in her hazel eye now more green than brown, in the lighting. He didn't know if that was the case, or if he was just being a fool, imagining it. He should have known the likeliest outcome at once, which she spoke with cold, flat resolve after her consideration, frigid eye returning the Umbrella scientist's way.

"No. I think not."

"What? Excuse me? What did you say?"

"You heard me just fine, doctor. You are not our concern. It's none of our business, remember? Doesn't concern us. Survival is your responsibility. Ours is our own."

"Are you out of your damn mind?", Doctor Baldwin uttered with disbelief, eyes widening a bit, speaking further, ignoring the pain. Genuinely dumbfounded by the firm, steadfast refusal of the dismissive woman in red. GHOST's eyes within the gas mask swiveled between the two women even quicker than before, as did the plumber's who looked slightly taken aback as well. "It's the only way left to get out of the city! We need to get up to the highway... between the sniper, U.B.C.S... monsters and truck... we need your help! You need us and we need you! There's no other way out of here! We need to work together, or it's all over!"

The woman in red looked back at the Umbrella scientist's desperate, pained features... the ice in that eye remaining, not even blinking. Red lips taut. Then she rose her free bandaged hand, reaching into GOBLIN 6's medical pouch she rummaged around inside and withdrew a familiar bottle... a First Aid Spray, moving forward holding it out in offering to the plumber. He took the bottle at once, confused, looking between it and her as she drew back to GHOST's side and went on as calmly as before, as if she hadn't stopped speaking.

"There's my help for you, doctor... your leg. More than you deserve. I'm in a charitable mood lately, you happened to catch me at the right moment. All the same, the way I see it you need us a hell of a lot more than we need you. We made it this far just fine without you. We'll make it the rest of the way to the finish line without you slowing us down. Good luck with your truck. Doubt you make it past the Quarantine Zone in one piece, but I suppose being hosed down with fire, rockets and lead is still preferable to being eaten by the monsters. It'll be quick."

"You don't understand... there's a window of time where the military will pull back before the...-"

"Enough, doctor. I've made my decision. Save your breath, while you still have it.", She cut the injured doctor off curtly with a wave of her bandaged hand, looking to GHOST instead with a nod and a beckon of her pistol. Speaking with a silky, confident tone that brooked no argument. A tone he was becoming rather familiar with already. "Come along now, agent. My room is just upstairs. Let's leave these two love birds to it. There is no reason we should have to die with them."

"But you don't understand, you really don't... I'm trying to...-"

"No more of that. I understand enough. Heard just about all I will, out of you. Best start looking for a wheelchair or a good pair of crutches. Or have your plumber manservant here MacGyver them up. Save yourselves some time. Got a long walk ahead of you, otherwise. Ta ta, Doctor Baldwin."

On that icy, contemptuous note of finality, the woman in red ignored the sputtering doctor, nose risen in the air haughtily. She abruptly turned on her high heel from the two other survivors and from GHOST, tracing her fingers over his shoulder and gripping it assertively, before making her way down further through the hotel lobby, passing the various rotting, blood soaked infected corpses along the way and the front reception desk area. Passing by the bar and reflecting mirrors behind it. Heels clicking, echoing through the interior of the place, pistol risen slightly just in case. Managing to walk properly, even on those heels and with her injuries, continuing to put on a show that she was fine in the presence of strangers, striding not for the hotel's elevator, but the main stairwell of the hotel lobby. GHOST looked back at the two bewildered, visibly irritated survivors, expression sheepish within the mask, and feeling some growing embarrassment in spite of himself. Hesitant, muffled voice managing to find some consoling words, speaking up to them awkwardly.

"Uh... I'm sorry about that. About her. She's kinda... well..."

"A stupid, stuck up, cold blooded cunt.", David's gruff voice observed bluntly when GHOST trailed off lamely, arms remaining down at his side, gripping the nail gun and First Aid Spray bottle tightly, Linda nodding in bitter agreement. Visibly put off by the icy woman in red, miffed by her attitude. And he could hardly blame her for that... though felt an inkling of irritation towards the plumber at his crude assertions. "Looking like a prostitute after visiting her angry pimp as well. I noticed. Skip the apologist bullshit excuses. She's going to get what's coming to her. Sooner rather than later, hopefully."

"There's no need for that kind of language. Calling a lady that. She's not that bad... once you get to know her. I think... haven't really known her long... admittedly. She's been through the ringer though... she has her reasons..."

"Don't we all? What are you, her lawyer or her boyfriend? We've all been through it, in this city. Doubt you'll ever really know someone like that, though, even under better circumstances. How the hell did you two even hook up? Seen a lot of odd couples through this outbreak... but I think you two take the cake."

"Heh... well... that's a long story. Probably a longer one than yours. Look... nothing personal, I'd go with you both... but she's already sort of my ticket out of here. Has a plan. Met her first, and we have an arrangement. I made a promise. You can understand."

"Oh, I think we can alright.", Doctor Baldwin murmured then tersely, sharing a glance with David, exchanging a nod of understanding. Something pitying in her expression when she looked back at GHOST, for some reason. A pity even the rough faced plumber seemed to share, if more mildly, and mixed with irritation. "Seems clear enough to me."

"Uh... good. Well... look... for what it's worth, there was no sniper up on the highway when we passed through. Couldn't see anyone up there... the U.B.C.S. you mentioned... they probably pulled back... but there isn't the best visibility of the highway from the street, so. Not sure how much help that intel is. But it's something. Maybe they fell back... but you're best off taking it carefully on your way up to the highway. There were zombies in the distance as well... could be more freaks than we saw. Worse ones. Good luck when you get up there. Both of you."

"Appreciate the heads up. We're moving out in a minute or two. No sense in wasting time, like her. You're alright, for an Umbrella henchman. My sympathies with the ice queen though, bub. She might be able to stand your scent, but you've hitched yourself to the wrong wagon there, going to have buyer's remorse. You can't even see all the obvious signs. She leads you to certain death."

"And you guys wouldn't lead me the same direction, driving right through that Quarantine Zone? Come on, man, give me a break. You've hooked up with an Umbrella virologist, and want to give me shit about hooking up with a spy? All death is certain anyways... you've picked yours, I'm just picking mine. Have to pick your poison, at the end of the day."

"With her calling the shots, you'll find death quicker than we will. Or be wishing for it. A sweet poison is still a poison... generously assuming she's even sweet on you. Think you're going to need a hell of a lot more luck than us when that hard lesson sinks in. But that's the only way most people learn something, isn't it? The hard way."

"Agent!"

Her familiar, cold voice echoed, calling down to him sharply from where she was down the lobby before he could conjure up a retort towards the plumber. All three of their heads snapped down in her direction to find the woman in the red dress standing at the base of the stairs close to the reception area and bar, waiting on him to join her. That sole hazel eye glaring in his direction, arms folded, burst pistol at the ready, beckoning him with her free bandaged hand impatiently.

"I told you they aren't our problem! Move your ass over here! We have more important matters to attend to!"

"On my way! Just a second!" GHOST called back down to her hurriedly... before he could stop himself... then turning his head back towards the others. Embarrassment doubling within seconds. Feeling a flush on his face and neck he was once more glad the mask and bodysuit concealed. "Well... uh... that's me. Gotta run... but... I think you might be right, Dave. With my luck lately. Hope you aren't."

"Heh. Go get her then, 'agent'. She's all yours. Don't want to keep your own problem waiting. That and there's a big surprise in store for both of you, come morning."

"Big surprise? What are you talking about?"

"Wouldn't be a surprise if I went spoiling it, now would it? You and your 'lady' friend had your chance to join us. You made your choice. Live with it... at least for a little while. Enjoy the time you have left. It'll be over before you know it. Just not quite sure who is the bigger damn fool here. Her, or the one following her around."

On that dry, enigmatic note, David merely folded his broad arms over his chest and stared back at the agent defiantly, shaking his head and not saying another word. GHOST, although curious what he meant, took the hint and didn't ask any further. There was nothing more he could do here, and they didn't look in a question answering mood... nor was the woman in red liable to wait any longer. GHOST drew back from them and the sofas at last, looking between each of their displeased yet tiredly amused faces, nodding. Chuckling under his breath awkwardly and shrugging. Then he abruptly turned and continued across the hotel lobby down towards her where she waited by the foot of the stairs. Behind the agent, he heard David make the sound effect of a whip being cracked, and the woman, even pained as she was, couldn't resist a derisive laugh at his expense. GHOST's jaw tightened in a grimace within the mask, feeling his face and neck burning again, trying to ignore their obvious mockery, all too aware of how he must look to them as he double timed it down to the spy in the red dress. Like a dog running to its owner's side after being called. Passing the corpses of the employees and guests, keeping out of their reach just in case. He caught sight of the many hotel rooms on each of the floors above... an impressive place alright, he was sure it was the top hotel in the city, without even seeing any of the others. When his gaze lowered from it, back down, he spotted more of the bar in the lobby off to the right of their position, a long mirror beyond it reflecting the agent and much of the rest of the lobby of the hotel... a number of intact liquor bottles still visibly on display... hadn't been cleared out by looters. Where the two other survivors had gotten their own drinks, no doubt.

GHOST took the time to quickly dart around into the bar, behind the counter... noting a blood stained, uniformed former man... a bald employee back there with a bunch of nails in its head, absurdly reminding him of a certain horror movie series, forcing him to resist a laugh. Its blank eyes were staring up at the ceiling... already taken care of by the plumber for them, at least. All the same, he stayed out of its potential reach... taking the time to retrieve one of the decent sized bottles of vodka and another of tequila, resisting the growing urge to open and start drinking one of them then and there, tucking them away and securing them to his belt at his hips... before moving back out of the bar again, and rejoining her where she waited at the staircase. He had the feeling they were going to need the drinks... before or after the end... whichever and however it came to be. If he died here or survived here, he sure as hell wasn't going to do either of them sober. Her hazel eye looked to the bottles he had grabbed, silently nodding her approval, almost certainly sharing his sentiment on the matter. Reaching her side, before he could say or do anything, she took one of his arms with hers, bracing herself against him to remain steady as she moved up the steps. They slowly began their ascent up the stairs together, but the exchange in the lobby with the other survivors continued rankling at him... all but feeling their eyes watching from afar, sharing more mockery of him between one another. He broke the silence quickly between them as they moved up, though kept his voice low so only they could hear one another. Looking sideways to her bandaged, bruised face hesitantly, yet unable to keep the irritation out of his voice that spiked through him.

"You know there's an old saying, 'you catch more flies with honey than vinegar'. Didn't need to brush them off like that. They could have helped us. They survived this long, this far. Like us. Didn't need to burn that bridge... with precious few of them around."

"There's another saying: 'better you than me'. She got her own leg shot up... and Doctor Baldwin is an Umbrella researcher anyways. Unlike us, she belongs here in this city as it now is. We have been slowed down enough, by circumstances outside of my control. I will not be hindered any further by circumstances I can control. We're doing it my way, not theirs. We don't need her help, or the help of some plumber. I told you. I already have a plan... and the situation well in hand."

"You're more injured than she is... and sure didn't turn away my help when you needed it. You're not the most empathetic to someone else in the same spot as you... someone in need. Guess you have to be conveniently selective with your standards in this line of work."

"Spare me the morality lecture and false indignation. We're both spies and killers, last I checked. Have harmed others. Rookie or not, you have no moral high ground over me. Getting in bed with Umbrella. Doing Spencer's dirty work. They don't force anyone to join the U.S.S. You went to them on your own, whoever you are. You joined for a reason. Knew enough about what you were getting into, even if you didn't predict mutants and infected. Like I didn't with the 'employers' I first got involved with. You got the luxury of a truly free choice and made it, drawn by the allure of power. My choices were comply or die."

"Oh yeah? Last I checked it was HUNK who got in bed with Umbrella, literally, not me. And if you got into bed with him, 'in another life', what does that make you, Princess? There's always a choice. Don't give me that lazy excuse. You could have walked away from all this by now... and you didn't. Drawn to the thrill and the glamour yourself, I bet, the fancy parties and fortune. Living the high life. Somehow I have my doubts anyone twisted your arm to be here in Raccoon City, stealing bioweapons for cash, selling them to the highest bidder. How many millions are you going to get out of that sample? Gotta fund that lavish lifestyle somehow. Am I wrong?"

At that outburst from him, her eye turned in his direction as they drew closer to the top of the stairs. Remaining silent, and turning colder than before. Letting him think for a moment upon what he had said. And despite his growing frustration and irritation GHOST knew he had said something he shouldn't. A low blow. Personal to her. He moved on hastily instead of pursuing that area, looking ahead to the stairs they ascended.

"Alright. Whatever. None of that is my business. Don't give a shit anyways. Never claimed any moral high ground either, for the record. Sure as hell not after NEST. Just pointing out a hypocrisy, that's all."

"Hypocrisy? I let you come with me on that train, and am still here, aren't I? Getting you out of this death pit of a city with me?", Her cool voice returned without hesitation, eye not moving his way again as she did. Reaching the top of the stairs and directing him down the left corridor, passing various closed rooms and more corpses of former employees and guests along the way. Strewn about the floor, killed in a variety of ways... some more rotten than others... some having clearly been infected, others not. The two of them avoided coming withing reach of any of their hands. Eye and burst pistol sweeping the vicinity around them, just as his MP5 did, even with the distraction of her words. "We have an understanding, here. Are in the same boat. My arrangement is with you, GHOST... not with others. I'm not here in Raccoon City to play humanitarian any more than you and your team were. People like them are best kept as far away from people like us as possible... for everyone's own good... do you understand?"

"Have an inkling. Not as stupid as you seem to think I am. Not worth arguing over."

"No. It isn't. You're already trouble enough... nearly more than you are worth... no sense adding any more of it to my already difficult assignment."

"Gee... thanks for the inspiring pep talk, coach. Means a lot. Can tell I've hitched my wagon to the right woman. Just try not to drive us off a cliff, huh?"

GHOST returned blithely, though dropping the matter at last, with some effort. Letting things get as heated as they had down in the sewer would help neither of them anyways... get them nowhere fast. And just encourage her to put a bullet in him, with his luck... give her more reasons to fuck him over at some point. Yet at his sarcastic tone and bitterness she looked his way again... something less cold there in her features that hadn't been there before. Inscrutable. Only the tapping of his boots, clicking of her heels and rain outside was audible... and the omnipresent muffled moaning of the infected out there, of course. He kept his eyes and ears pealed in spite of his annoyance. At last she came to a stop abruptly in front of a particular door when they reached the top of their particular set of stairs, Room 237, and he did the same, meeting her gaze. She studied him thoughtfully for a moment, the tension between them still lingering in the air... but the ice in her eye receding. She set her free hand on his shoulder again, and he glanced between it and her bruised features when she spoke again.

"You are a better sort of trouble than those two down there would be, GHOST. More worthwhile. My kind of trouble.", She assured him quietly, tone gentler than it had been before. The way she'd spoken to him down in the sewer, manner soothing and kind as if at the flip of a switch. Snaring his attention with ease, lips parting in the mask with surprise. Somehow feeling better, reassured, when she spoke to him like that, looked at him that way, despite everything else. Squeezing his shoulder, she lowered her hand from him and reached into one of her pouches, withdrawing the telltale key to the room door, glinting in the light overhead while she spoke up again as gently as before, but firmly. "Now, be a dear and hush. We're here. I'll do the speaking. You remain quiet until spoken to or asked questions. Do not talk out of turn to either my liaison or my employers while I argue your case to them. You just follow my lead, listen carefully and keep your mouth shut... understood? You say the wrong thing, and I might not be able to protect you."

"What is this, a mob sitdown? Don't worry, I'm not stupid. You're made and I'm an associate. Just hope I'm not walking into a room to be whacked, here. I've seen all the movies."

"This is not the movies, GHOST. And it's a hell of a lot more dangerous than the mafia. If you hadn't already noticed."

"Yeah... fine. I'll be a regular mute. Really starting to feel like an outsider here in all this crazy shit."

"You are an outsider, GHOST. That's why I'm trying to make you an insider. We must present a united front to others, socially and in business. To outsiders and fellow insiders alike. Not show any hint of weakness or bickering. No giving things away... talking too much. Remember, no arguing in front of them or with them. Speak to them when addressed and asked to do so. No taking any bait they might throw your way, or raising your voice to them, getting angry."

"Understood... this social espionage shit is more your and Bond's world than mine. Or at least... you're good at it. Taking the direct route is mine. More a soldier than a spy anyways. This contact of yours better have a goddamn minigun or rocket launcher handy. Or some experimental weaponry, like the Leviathan's security does. No other way I see us getting out of the city, at this rate, between the horde and the Quarantine Zone. You had a point, back down there. Nice as those two were, taking a truck out of the city is a fucking suicide run. Like you said, no way it doesn't get hosed down with a flamethrower, rockets and lead by the troops outside the city limits."

"There's always a way out, GHOST. Always. A weakness in the armor. It's just a matter of finding and exploiting it. And having the will and knowledge to escape. To think outside the box and accomplish the mission. Now shush. Remember, no running your mouth, got it?"

"Yeah yeah, I get it. Heard you the first fifty times."

"And just as importantly... trust me. Or try to... at least."

"You're damaged goods, lady."

"What better company for you to be keeping, in that case?"

"Touche. Don't have many other options left... now do I? My life is in your hands, then."

The woman in red met his eyes at that, and looked as though she wanted to say something to it, something more. Instead she reconsidered, remaining silent, leaving whatever it was unsaid. Instead her lips parted and a startled expression touched her face, and she looked over his shoulder. Turning rapidly on the spot to follow her hazel gaze amid a sudden moaning and snarling, the agent found a former, rotting hotel worker in a bloody, tattered uniform had risen from slumbering among the other corpses on the floor and stumbled towards GHOST, reaching for him. Jaw snapping open and closed, blood and rot covering its face... dead, glazed over eyes staring back at him. GHOST jolted back with an exclamation, heart all but seizing in his chest as his instincts kicked in before the woman in red could make the first move or do anything to the threat. He drew his combat knife from its sheath, aimed and threw it with all he had at the zombie's head. It tumbled end over end, blade glinting and flashing in the light... and the handle promptly bounced against and off its forehead, the knife landing unceremoniously and uselessly on the floor between them. Cursing at it loudly and his misfortune, by now the freak was too close to raise his submachine gun and aim... fortunately he had a fallback weapon for close quarters.

It wasn't the C.Q.B.Z. HUNK knew... had created with DEN MOTHER... but it got the job done. Rockfort Island's instructors, hand picked by Lady Spencer herself, did not train its agents in incompetence. In spite of Commander Ashford's model behavior in that field.

Narrowly dodging under its arms as it tried to grab him, he rose up beside the infected worker and grabbed it by the back of its uniform's collar, throwing the snarling thing backwards over against the railing overlooking the lobby before it could grab him back. Putting a bit of space between them. Enough of it. Then, starting forward toward the zombie, drawing back his boot he spun around in a rapid roundhouse and slammed it in the midsection with all he had, ribs breaking audibly against his combat boot, uttering a deep grunt of exertion through the gas mask. The momentum of the blow putting the former employee right through the wooden railing, a section of it splintering. It fell over the side... and he heard it land heavily down there on one of the glass tables holding some potted plants, shattering through it all, echoing about the hotel. GHOST and the woman in red moved over to the side of the broken railing, getting a better look down there. Down in the lobby, the infected corpse lay on the floor amid the debris, squirming and writhing, suffering from various limbs broken in the fall, still snarling and moaning, trying to rise, shards of glass and ceramic pots embedded all over its bloody body. At the same time, over among the couches and in front of the fireplace, the plumber and injured scientist also looked down at the writhing zombie from afar, and slowly back up at them where they stood on the upper level. GHOST grimaced at the sight of the broken, infected hotel employee down there, recovering himself from his shock, rapid pulse balancing out a bit steadily. Yet another brush with death... all it would have taken was one bite, and it would have all been over. He felt both a fear and an irritation at that, doing his best to keep the former feeling under control, as he spoke aloud with disdain.

"Hotel workers today... they'll do anything for a break. So much for room service. Think he got off on the wrong floor. No head for heights, that one. Sucked at his job, so I gave him the boot."

GHOST muttered steadily under his breath through the mask, looking away from its writhing, broken form down there in the lobby and back to her silently observing eye. Standing at his side, staring at him pointedly instead of the infected worker or the two other survivors in the lobby. He merely shrugged his shoulders at her nonchalantly as she rose an incredulous brow his way.

"What? Not the only one with a licence to pun, red. Would say I've earned it. Some one liners. Let's get to your room already. Don't know about you, but after the job interview, I'm taking a nap before we head out again. Might have to call up the manager and complain about their hiring policies too."

Her lips quirked even further at that... as though impressed... and for a moment he thought she'd speak... or even laugh... instead she seemed to reconsider, merely nodding silently, moving back towards the door. He looked between her figure and down over the side of the broken railing again at the echoing sound of boots that emanated down there. The plumber named David was moving away from the injured scientist, Linda, on the couches and down towards the snarling, moaning former employee... nail gun brandished in his right gloved hand, sparking, makeshift stun rod in the left. Reaching the zombie just as it began to manage to rise again, the plumber stuck the stun rod into its chest, electric shocks ripping through it, making it twitch, smoke and gurgle, before collapsing back down among the wreckage of the table, plants and pots. Convulsing. Then while it was down, retracting the stun rod, the plumber raised the industrial nail gun, pressed it against the zombie's forehead, and fired several high powered shots into its skull at point blank range. It snapped back at the muffled impacts, moans falling silent, twitching for a moment or two and going still again, blood puddling around it steadily, flowing, the nails embedded deeply in its head, puncturing the brain. Satisfied, the plumber lowered his weapons again, tucking away the stun rod into his belt with the other tools, before looking up towards the floor GHOST stood on and shot him a thumb's up, while GHOST returned it... and turned the gesture into a finger gun. The other survivor merely smirked down below, turning from the corpse and making his way back across the floor towards the injured Umbrella scientist. Rejoining her at the couches. There were no hard feelings, at least, it seemed. For some reason he found he appreciated that. Guy must have been a badass plumber to survive as long as he had... all the corpses around the lobby and out on the sidewalk only lent credence to that. It was survival of the fittest in Raccoon City, alright. GHOST watched him depart for a moment, then looked back down at the bleeding corpse below... having to resist the various nail and tool related puns that sprang to mind.

"You boys and your toys."

The U.S.S. Agent turned back at her voice to the woman in red to find her standing directly before him, his fallen combat knife in her hand, holding it out to him in offering, haft first. He looked between it and her, grimacing within his mask as he took it back, nodding his helmeted head her way gratefully. Smiling at her sheepishly and unseen within the gas mask.

"Thanks... throwing knives is not as easy as it looks. Always had trouble with it, back on the island."

"No... it isn't. Least of all for a rookie. As I said before we were rudely interrupted, this isn't a movie, Agent GHOST."

"Could have fooled me, red, the way you threw it back in that elevator."

"Practice makes perfect, GHOST. That and the Lickers have no skull for it to bounce off of. Just need to keep training."

"Inside-out Men, not 'Lickers'. And I'll take that under advisement. Assuming I get the chance."

"You will... if you do as I say. Come along now. Home sweet home awaits..."

"Hope that means guns galore. No home or hotel room is complete without an armory. At least tell me that part is like a movie."

"Maybe we will get along after all."

"Maybe. Let's introduce me to this contact of yours. You're not the only one here who can make a hell of a first impression."

Her lips quirked again at that remark as he tucked away the combat knife securely in its sheath again, and drawing backwards, heels clicking, she turned at last. He watched her make her way back to the door, and followed her to it at once. Reaching it and raising the key, she slid it into the lock, unlocking the door, before tucking it away again and raising her pistol. Grasping the door handle while GHOST rose the submachine gun and covered her. Glancing back at him and the two exchanging a nod of understanding, before she looked back to the door. Then in a flash she opened it and moved inside the hotel safe room with the burst pistol drawn and aimed, with the agent following in close pursuit. No hostiles came out to greet them the moment they entered... no familiar moans or snarls, thankfully, and she took the time to close the door behind them, while he looked and moved over into the nearby kitchen area, gaze sweeping over each nook and cranny intently, before silently deeming it clear. He felt her brush past him as he did so, and he turned her way in the hall ahead of the door... to find she had frozen on the spot not far ahead. He slowly walked up behind her and looked past her, to see what she saw... something that made her lower her pistol, a grim, pitying look in her bruised features... especially in her eye. Murmuring quietly under her breath. So quietly GHOST almost missed it.

Almost.

"Damn it. If I'd just called you sooner... before I slept. I forgot..."

Ahead of them, facing them, an older man in a dark suit jacket, black dress shirt and red tie with blood stained white hair sat motionlessly in a chair in a darkened, shadowy spot, the pistol still locked in a death grip at his side, fresh blood pooling around the bottom of his chair and feet. Brains blown against the ceiling and wall behind himself, staining all over it, a sizable hole torn out the back of his head and through the wall. Bits of grey matter and skull visible. Droplets slowly dripping away, staining his suit further... a fairly recent suicide, from the looks of it, a matter of hours. The man who must have been her now deceased contact sat at the end of the path to the hotel's bedroom, near a desk on his left side, and the pair of matching beds, windows and closet off to the right. The place was well furnished and decently sized for a hotel room, matching the upper class style of the entire hotel. Must have been a place frequented by VIP's... politicians, city officials and Umbrella elites. Close to dead man's fine leather shoe clad feet on the floor as well sat a thick metal briefcase container of sorts with a handle, also stained with his blood. On the desk sat his radio, a communicator like hers, along with an advanced looking, almost military style sizable laptop was set up, facing away from GHOST, unable to see it. He glanced her way, to the grim look still touching her bruised features... and felt a pang of sympathy for the spy, tentatively raising a gloved hand and setting it gently on her shoulder. Her eye turned in the direction of his mask the moment he did, looking back in the intact and shattered lenses as his muffled voice spoke quietly. Reassuring her, as best he could.

"My sympathies... but it's not your fault..."

"Appreciate the sentiment... but it is. Had I radioed him before passing out, as soon as we got to the monitor room... this would not be the outcome. He would have known I was still on my way. Would not have done this."

"You were exhausted. You had been shot. Went through hell, while he was comparatively safe and cozy up here. Was his choice to blow his own brains out. You didn't do that. He could have waited longer... or even fought the freaks instead. Like us. He panicked instead. Understandable, from that glimpse of the apocalypse outside... but he made his choice."

"Yes... I suppose he did. We've been through worse than him, and are still here. I'm just surprised I haven't done the same as him, yet."

"Makes two of us, there. Guess some people are just more the survivor type. Like us, and the two downstairs. Who was this redshirt anyways?"

"A former colleague. Of no consequence, now. He's gone... like most everyone else. You're here, instead. And besides... what's a little more blood on my hands, at this point?"

On that simple, dark note, with a slight, grim smile and resigned shrug of her shoulders, the woman in red drew a quiet breath, recovering herself from the bloody sight, and marched away from GHOST, withdrawing from his touch, which lowered back to his side. He watched silently as she moved down towards the bedroom, heels clicking, coming closer to and then to a stop before the body, as a low voice emanating from the laptop washed over the hotel room... over her. Cold, calm and clear. Drawing the gaze of her sole hazel eye its way almost at once, eye widening at whatever or whoever it was she saw there on the screen.

"He lost his will and chose death. He was weak. Ours is an organization that does not indulge or reward weakness."

"Wesker..."

"And you, Ada... you have also failed. Your actions in betraying us and helping that Leon fellow will have significant consequences for our organization. As there will be for you. Rather final consequences."

He saw her sole eye blink... and though GHOST didn't know exactly what was going on... was the outsider... he damn well knew a scarcely veiled threat when he heard one. At those cool, threatening words directed at her, something foolishly protective in GHOST began to move him closer before he could stop himself, down the hall and standing behind her, gripping his submachine gun tighter. As he did so she withdrew the G-Virus container from its pouch on her shoulder straps, setting it down on the desk in front of the laptop, the glowing purple sample shining through the clear section. The image on the screen finally came into view when GHOST had moved in close enough. A blonde, broad shouldered, clean shaven man somewhere in his thirties GHOST had never seen before sat before them... wearing a fine black suit and black turtle neck-like shirt beneath it... along with sunglasses hiding away his eyes that were undoubtedly studying the deadly glowing contents of the bioweapon container she had revealed to him. GHOST couldn't make out any details beyond him, his background... as though he were sitting at a desk in a pitch black room somewhere in the world. Listening as she spoke to him again in turn. Tone cool and clear as his, unperturbed by the man's veiled, deadly suggestion for her before.

"See this? You know what it is. I've betrayed nothing. And I haven't failed yet. His weakness was his own, not mine."

"Well now... a pleasant turn of events, for a change. Despite some setbacks, you have proven your value to us.", The man's coldly pleased voice amended at last, raising a black leather clad gloved hand to his chin thoughtfully, a thin trace of dry amusement in his tone. He was silent for a moment, attention turning from the container and over to her side. The thin, icy amusement touching his lips as well as his voice this time. "I see the G-Virus isn't all you emerged from NEST with. You brought company as well. You could not leave well enough alone with Leon... now you resort to dragging one of Agent HUNK's underlings into this without my permission. What have you to say for yourself, Ada?"

"He followed me home, Albert. May I keep him?", Ada's voice returned simply, with a smirk of her red lips matching her own amused, silky tone. She glanced between the laptop and back at GHOST, whose eyes widened a bit at her words, but remained silent as she had instructed him to be. Knowing how much was almost certainly at stake. "Rookie or not, he's good... I've seen what he can do. He's well trained, survived being at ground zero of the outbreak from the start of it... knows our way of life... the value of discretion... can be one of us. An asset. Furthermore, he hasn't radioed the Leviathan. U.S.S. Command thinks he's dead, along with the rest of his team."

"Apart from Special Agent HUNK, naturally."

"He survived? Why am I asking? Of course he did. Has a sample too, I expect, for his Comtesse. Has he made it out of the city, yet?"

"Not quite. He is having words with Nikolai on the northern side of the city. I will be offering a position within our organization to the survivor."

"We know who it's going to be... and he'll never accept a job from you. Not after what happened with him, you, Birkin and Marcus. You know that."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. An invitation will be extended regardless of the outcome. Your agent there concerns me more than him, just now. An unforeseen factor. He has seen my face. Heard my name. Knows I am alive. I do not care for loose ends."

GHOST's pulse quickened at that rather ominous last sentence from the man in sunglasses... well aware what tended to happen when it was spoken. He willed himself to hold his tongue, though wondered if he should be bartering for his life right now or not. Fortunately... someone else far more skilled in that than him took up said bartering on his behalf at once, looking between the agent and back to the laptop, speaking clearly and confidently.

"There is nothing loose to him. He's reliable, has it together, and is good in a fight. A capable soldier and agent. He's also perfectly willing to defect from Umbrella if you have a place for him, at my side. He... saved my life... is the only reason you'll be able to get your precious G-Virus. He recovered it... I recovered him and it. If you're willing to let a psychotic like Nikolai join up, or get in bed with the likes of Trent or the H.C.F. and their enigmatic CEO... you have little excuse not to find a position for this man. Give him to me, and I will assume full responsibility for him. He'll be a worthy investment. You have my word on that. And if he isn't, proves more a liability than not... I'll kill him myself."

At those surprising, resolved words, GHOST's eyes shot in her direction... but her eye remained determined on the screen, scarcely blinking. He felt his pulse quickening at them... the implications. And despite how ominous this all was... the sword clearly hanging over his head... the induction he was undertaking as if into some supervillain's employ... he felt touched as well, strangely. The case she presented for him. The way she fought for him. Wanted him, for some reason. The risk she was probably taking for him, despite the way she'd threatened him more than once, and did so again. Maybe... she could be trusted. At least more than he thought she could be. Before he knew it, the cool expressioned man on the laptop, who also seemed subtly surprised by her words, was considering them and speaking again.

"Hmm. I never thought to see you an advocate of someone. Go out on a limb for another in our business. Yet you raise some valid points. We can discuss that matter at greater length later, provided you survive, escape and complete your mission. In the meantime, which one is this then, Ada? What is his U.S.S. codename?"

"His codename is GHOST."

"Apt, if he's interested in joining our more clandestine world. Special Agent GHOST... real name Juan Rico Martinez... twenty one years old, blood type A, height five feet ten inches, weight one hundred and fifty five pounds at last weighing, eyes brown, hair brown. Born in the United States and descended of a Spanish father and a French mother... their family residence is located in Florida. His father, Dr Antonio Martinez, is currently an Umbrella executive and virologist, the head of Umbrella Spain. A long time member of Spencer's Inner Circle. GHOST is the youngest child of three. Unwed and childless. Estranged from his family. It would seem his father never wanted him to join the U.S.S... had other, loftier aspirations for him within the company, but he did it anyways. Left to try to make something of himself. Bought the Umbrella Security Service propaganda hook, line and sinker. Recently survived and barely passed his three year basic training on Rockfort Island, approved and certified by Admiral Maxwell and Commander Ashford, and a transfer was approved of by Director Henri and Special Agent HUNK to fill the final vacant spot in his 1st U.S.S. Unit, Alpha Team, at the Paris Facility. Operation: NESTWRECKER was to be his first assignment for Umbrella... in the service of Spencer himself. I could go on... but I think you get the picture, now. Your mission did not quite play out the way you thought it would, did it, agent?"

His cool gaze behind the sunglasses returned to GHOST... as did her silent, nearly unreadable one. Though there was a touch of intrigue in her hazel eye, at the wealth of information her employer provided her with on him. He felt all at once as though he were standing on a stage, stripped of his armor and clothing, the spotlight being shone down on him. Being x-rayed. The judges in this case deciding if he would live or die. Which probably wasn't far off from the truth. Personal information about him he had thought secrets he could keep and reveal at his leisure were laid bare. His identity to her... as it had been when she removed his mask. His privacy robbed of him so casually. He felt desperately uncomfortable, then... embarrassed... and didn't know how HUNK thrived in it, the spotlight of attention of others. As much as was heaped on him, and the stories and legends. He seemed to enjoy it... made it look so simple, easy, striding through the Leviathan, the center of attention, surrounded by fawning or intimidated admirers... without any insecurities or discomfort at all. But then... he had been raised in that world, was a veteran of it. Taught to navigate all that by Lady Spencer herself. What was he by comparison? It didn't matter who the hell his father was or had been. Especially after his disownment. Now he was just some rookie goon who blew his first mission, doomed a city, and was finding himself seeking new employment... it finding him, really. He was just a soldier in the right place at the right time... or the wrong one at the wrong time. Time would tell which this case ended up being.

GHOST's gaze was drawn to something at the corner of his eye as he considered it all... to one of the windows outside, facing the desk, behind the laptop. A solitary rain soaked crow sat perched against the ledge... peering into the hotel room... illuminated by the red neon light of the sign outside the hotel... black eyes looking back at GHOST. He couldn't tell if it was infected or not... but it did not look away from him, move a feather, nor blink. Began to gave him the creeps. He cleared his throat and forced himself to look away from the bird and back to the laptop, speaking up to the man on the screen at last, with false confidence and bravado, despite the racing of his heart and coiling dread. Knowing full well from the dead figure in the chair that a man like this wouldn't respect weakness of any kind.

"All that uh... information about me... is that just from memory? Or you been doing your homework?"

"Photographic memory and access, agent. Each are capable weapons, particularly in the right hands. Though there will soon be another, more overt one unleashed upon the city."

"You the leader here? Her boss and his? Calling the shots?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"Yeah? Well from where we're standing you ain't leading but two things right now. Jack and shit. And Jack left town. Didn't see you in NEST when everything went to hell. But I do see you sitting on your ass God knows how many miles away from all this. All you're missing is a mustache to twirl, an eye patch, or a cat to pet, with that dramatic Bond villain act you've clearly got going for you. Why don't you swing by Raccoon City yourself instead of threatening Ada from behind your nice, safe desk, laptop tough guy? Get your hands dirty, like the rest of us. Plenty of it to go around down here."

"Charming. Truly one of Rockfort Island's best and brightest specimens you have uncovered and brought to us, Ada. I would expect no less of you."

The man named Wesker's cold, restrained, oddly formal yet monotone voice returned dryly, and GHOST was all but certain the eyes under those sunglasses were looking at him like something he'd scraped off his shoe. He merely looked away from the agent with a dismissive gesture of a leather glove clad hand, as though he hadn't spoken. Not taking any of the bait GHOST had tried to lay for him. Then the man in sunglasses looked back over to the sample and the silent, faintly startled looking Ada, stroking his chin thoughtfully. The woman in red on the other hand was staring back at GHOST with surprise for a long moment, lips parted... GHOST looked back at her sheepishly with a shrug, feeling the warmth touching his face under the mask and creeping up the back of his neck again. Well aware how ridiculous he must have looked... trying to speak up for her like that. Breaking his promise to keep his mouth shut... but he had been unable to help it. It had burst out of him before he knew it. He stole another glance to the rain soaked window beyond the laptop... where the red illuminated crow still sat and stared... still as a statue... feeling his pulse quicken with growing discomfort. Though he recovered in a flash when Wesker addressed her again, each of them looking back to the laptop the moment her boss spoke to her.

"Ada... there are two things you must be made aware of."

"What is it?"

"One. At precisely 6 AM Operation: Bacillus Terminate shall commence. Raccoon City will be completely eradicated by a government launched nuclear missile. Anyone and anything not out by then will be reduced to ash."

The man in sunglasses may as well have dropped a nuclear bomb himself in the very room they stood. Ada's eye widened visibly and his heartbeat quickened rapidly, feeling goosebumps breaking out. Realizing the implications... of what the two downstairs had mentioned... his mind catching up through the shock. The 'surprise' in store for them. The real reason the liaison must have blown his own head off, glancing the dead man in the chair's way. Then he looked down at his watch as well... looking at the small window of time they had left before they would be atoms floating in the air. Suddenly now all at once wide awake, sleep and exhaustion not a thought on his mind, nor any of the aches in his body. And they had just blown their only escape option... maybe the two were still downstairs and he could apologize to them on their behalf. Get on his knees and beg, if need be. Or catch up with them and grovel for a seat on their troop truck. Whatever it took to get out of this soon to be crater. Still... GHOST had questions, was as bewildered as he was horrified by what the blonde man in the sunglasses was saying. When Ada remained silent, visibly considering the information, GHOST couldn't help himself, despite her warning before, addressing the man on the laptop screen again first.

"Huh? Why nuke the city? I don't get it at all... can't Umbrella and the military just roll in and mop it up? The Quarantine Zone-..."

"Shut up, Mister Martinez. You were not brought upon this world of ours to 'get it'. You are here and still alive at Ada's defiance and my indulgence alone. To assist her. Nothing more. Remain silent, or I will reconsider a possible position for you. Do not be so stupid as to sabotage your own job interview in the midst of it. You shall not be granted another with us. You will receive only one warning. As for the Quarantine Zone, all U.S. Army forces have withdrawn from the missile's blast radius. All Umbrella forces have returned to the Leviathan as well. Have you any other asinine questions while we are on the subject, agent?"

Wesker's voice returned, colder and sharper than before... patience evidently wearing thin already. Ada shot him a warning look at once, telling him to be silent without words, just as the blonde man had with them. Despite temptation to retort to the smug, arrogant sounding bastard, GHOST held his tongue, realizing he was treading on thin ice with this man... that he was dangerous, in spite of how ridiculous he looked. Someone not to be trifled with. Even if he wasn't especially impressive physically... some pencil pusher he could snap in two in a fight, like the NEST scientists who had attacked him. This was a man with power, at his beck and call... he knew what people like that looked like. He could order GHOST's death without having to lift a finger, get his own hands dirty. He glanced back to the rain flecked window beyond the desk once more... to find the ominous crow was gone from where it had perched and watched him... as though it had never been there. Maybe it hadn't been... maybe his superstitious imagination was running wild, again... either way he forced it aside for the time being. He considered the revelation of the Quarantine Zone... if the military had pulled back than Linda and David's escape route was even more likely to succeed than they had thought. They could take the highway out beyond the city and be home free. He hoped to God he hadn't let Ada burn that bridge. That those trucks were still an option. Ada looked back to the man on the screen after shooting GHOST that warning look, finding her voice again, all too calm for one who had heard their death was imminent.

"No. He understands perfectly, won't speak out of turn again. What's the second thing, Wesker?"

"Colonel Vladimir and another Umbrella executive in his own little inner circle will be leaving town on his gunship with a cargo container possessing U.M.F. 013, bound for the Leviathan. Spencer has them tying up some final loose ends for him in the city, before the end. It will pass over the highway located in your vicinity. If you are not on it, there will be no way to leave Raccoon City and escape the blast radius in time."

"Something tells me the Colonel isn't likely to make a pit stop on the way out. Or that we can simply thumb him down."

"Indeed. But he needn't be aware that he is carrying more than he knows out of the city."

"What are you talking about?"

"I sent something along with your contact, a new upgraded, superior model, just for you. Capable of lifting a good deal more weight, among other refinements. The boys in the lab finished putting it together, worked out the kinks from your previous device. We might lack QUARTERMASTER and the Leviathan's tech facility, momentarily, but the Organization is not lacking for competing talent and resources. Particularly with the H.C.F. now in the fold."

Wesker looked down at something below his side of the screen and reached for it, pressing a button there. Activating something remotely. It was a snapping, whirring and hum that drew GHOST and Ada's attention to it... down to the blood stained metal briefcase near the dead contact's feet. It had popped its locks automatically, a red light was activated on it, and as the whirring continued something popped up rapidly from within it as though it sat on a mechanical pedestal. A weapon of some sort... a large, heavy pistol, GHOST considered, looking it over... wondering what the big deal was... but within a moment, another thought, realization came to him instead. It was no ordinary pistol from its make, and the device on its underside. His eyes widened a bit within the mask, lips parting as he realized what it was. It was a grappling gun. Something Batman should be carrying. Ada took a step towards the briefcase and grasped the grappling gun by the handle, took it from the case, lifting it up in her palm and inspecting it in the light of the hotel room. Something faintly but visibly pleased there in her bruised features, despite the pain and circumstances now surrounding them. Satisfied with what she possessed, in spite of her seriousness and the situation. Her eye and his returning to the screen as the blonde man's voice went on, coolly bidding them farewell.

"It is in our best interests that you survive. William's G-Virus sample is required. You'll be needing that Hookshot a great deal if you wish to stand a chance for your extraction. I shall contact you again later... and with a decision regarding your loud mouthed associate... should you both make it. Assuming you do not change your mind about him. Good luck, Ada. Agent. You will both be needing that as well."

On that note of finality, Wesker simply pressed another button on the panel in front of himself and vanished, the laptop screen in front of them going blank... or rather returning to the desktop, with many icons upon it. They studied it for a moment or two... and then she looked at him again. The way she stared, he was half certain she was about to chew him out for disobeying her order, before... for his outburst... bracing himself for it... but instead she began to move. Without a word, Ada hooked the grappling gun securely to the side of GOBLIN 6's belt and reached over, powering down and closing up the laptop on the desk. Then GHOST watched as she turned her attention to the G-Virus sample, lifting it up, her eye studying the deadly purple glowing contents of the titanium canister. She turned from the desk and strode away from it slowly, still examining the sample, visibly deep in contemplation, something troubled there in her eye. Passing the corpse of her contact without so much as glancing at it, heels tapping through the blood puddle, she went over to one of the rain soaked windows, the one the crow had been watching from... looking silently between the sample and the state of the devastated city outside the parted curtains. Listening to the moans out there and occasional gunshots over the rain falling against the Apple Inn... the red glowing neon light of the sign outside washing over her form again. Catching the butterfly pendant at her throat, making it glint again. Slowly, he willed himself to follow... went over to her side, looking between her and out the water soaked window the crow had perched in. Raising and setting a tentative hand on her shoulder again... the contact visibly returning her from her reverie. Her gaze swiveling around and settling up on his mask as he spoke hesitantly, breaking the silence between them first. In spite of his own apprehension.

"Hey... you still with me, lady?", GHOST murmured quietly, looking back into her hazel eye. She remained silent, but nodded very slightly. It was enough for him to go on. Voicing his fears aloud, even as he tried to rein them in. Pulse remaining quickened as the seconds counted down to oblivion. "When that nuke gets here... all this is going to be vapor. What the hell are we going to do?"

"What we have to. You heard the man. There's still a chance. We have a plan. It's not over. Not yet. Get that laptop off the desk, GHOST. Put it in its case and strap it to your back. It will come in handy later."

"Later?"

"When we escape the city, of course. When we survive all this... and I get us somewhere safe to hole up in. Friendly territory. We can discuss all this... your new employment... then. Now hurry. No time to waste. There's one more thing I need to do, first."

"And what's that?"

Ada didn't answer him. Not with words, anyways. On that note the woman in red tucked the G-Virus sample back into its original pouch, the ominous purple glow vanishing with it. GHOST obeyed her orders with a nod of his battle scarred helmet once it was out of sight, taking the hint, turning and looking back to the desk with the laptop on it, making his way from the window and back down to it. Hitting the safety on his submachine gun and slinging it again. Reaching the desk he grasped the laptop, gathering up the power cord after unplugging it, closing it up and looking over to the nearby case for it. He inserted the laptop in the case, closing and locking it up with a few snaps, before taking it by some straps fastened to the case, connecting them to the back of his plate carrier and fastening them around his armor. Securing it swiftly to his back and settling his weapons back overtop of it, adjusting it while keeping the straps taut and snug. He heard the clicking of her heels as he worked, and looked away from the desk and back towards her again... watching as she made her way out of the red light, past the liaison's corpse and to the nearest closet beyond one of the beds, opening it up and withdrawing another metal briefcase... this one a fair bit longer and larger than the one at the dead man's feet. She turned from the closet and set it down on the bed, unsnapping the locks and opening it up, looking within at the contents with a pleased smile and a murmur under her breath.

"That's right. Come to mama..."

From where he stood GHOST was paused at the sight within... what he could see of the case... of spare magazines, weapons parts, and a sizable weapon he couldn't make out. A couple pairs of grenades as well... two of the stun variety, the other two fragmentation grenades. Among other items he couldn't yet make out. He watched silently as Ada plucked the grenades and secured them to her belt, then drew her Chinese burst pistol again, reaching into the case and withdrawing a long, dark suppressor, attaching the silencer to the end of the pistol and screwing it on tightly and rapidly. Reaching into the case again she withdrew another modification device... snapping it on to the underside of the barrel and activating it, peering down the sights, aiming it at the window. A red glowing laser sight flashed into existence, moving with the weapon. A spy's weapon if there ever was one, GHOST recognized. Something satisfied touched her eye... then she lowered the modified pistol, tucking it back into her holster, and fetching some spare armor piercing, extended magazines in there, tucking them into her pouches, restocking what she had lost down in the sewers against the monsters. Finishing that, she reached down into the case again with both hands, and she withdrew one of the items that took up the most space, unfolding the stock on it and pressing it to her shoulder, holding the grip and foregrip on it.

A black, sleek, modified shotgun... of a make he instantly recognized. An Armsel Striker Shotgun. Revolving cylinder containing twelve 12-gauge shells in it... designed by the Rhodesians as a riot weapon. Also known as the Street Sweeper, among other names... just the purpose he knew they were going to need it for, in the infested Raccoon City. Hell of a weapon... shorter and lighter than most combat shotguns... perfect for her size. Probably why she had chosen it in particular... she was a professional, knew what she could do and handle, hence carrying around the right weapons. If he was a brute force soldier, she was a precise scalpel spy. She hefted it with familiarity, looking it over, double checking it, and reaching down for a dark cylinder of shells, locking and loading it into place. Retrieving a couple spare cylinders of shells and inserting them into a couple spare pouches. There were optical sights attached to the shotgun, he could see, along with another laser sight... she had been prepared for the worst, alright, set up in this hotel room... but probably had never expected Raccoon City to get so out of hand, to require it all... otherwise she likely would have been more heavily armed when he first crossed her path. Unless she had been, and lost most of her other weapons at NEST... or had picked up weapons and discarded them along the way, as GHOST had done.

Ada was a spy alright... like something out of the movies. It had already been clear... after all that he'd seen and heard in this hotel room, it was beyond undeniable. Along with how impressed he felt, even over his dread and anticipation of the impending nuclear strike, the seconds ticking away. Despite it... he was more certain now he'd made the right decision coming with her instead of taking the truck out with the others. He was in safe hands, here. He hoped. He looked over to her dead colleague, then... to the pistol still locked in his hand's death grip. Remembering GOBLIN 6... and the spy's words about not wasting what they had. He agreed... waste not, want not... especially after all the scavenging he'd done down in NEST. The liaison wouldn't be needing his weapon any more, now that he had used it... and was as far away from the city as one could possibly be. In a better place... maybe. Depending on who he'd been in life... and suicide was a mortal sin. He went to it the chair the man sat in, leaning over his corpse and carefully, respectfully as he could, removing the pistol from his grasp, inspecting it. Finding himself impressed with the make he recognized at once. An M19... fired seven .45 ACP rounds... explained the size of the hole in the poor bastard's head. It wasn't modified... but was no less useful in its base form. He intended to put it to good use. Part of him hoped to find another .45 lying around somewhere... then he could pretend he was The Shadow. Sadly it didn't seem to be the case. He glanced down in the direction of the corpse... its eyes still open, staring back blankly at GHOST... almost accusingly... sending a shiver of discomfort down his spine. Reaching down and closing the eye lids for him... figuring he owed the man something... along with some words... muttering under his breath.

"Sorry, man... but don't think you'll be needing any of this anymore, as much as me... wherever you're headed. Good luck there."

Checking the contact's pants pockets, he found a wallet on the dead man as well... no identification on him, though. A dark wallet stuffed full of twenties and fifties that he wasn't too proud to tuck away into one of his pouches. Again he had to smother the unpleasant feeling of stealing from the dead. It was just a superstition. The dead needed money about as much as they did weapons... and if they were going to get out of here together, they would need the cash. Never hurt to plan for the future... if they made it out. Somehow he doubted she was carrying any currency with that dress on. All the same, he felt some unease with the theft. Grave robbery by any other name. This room was the man's grave... along with the city outside and around it. Still... he wasn't going to join the poor son of a bitch in it if it could be helped. And this was how the man could help him. He glanced away from the contact's corpse and over to Ada, to find her watching him now as she worked, something silent and speculative visible there in her features... looking between the corpse, the gun he had retrieved and GHOST... before nodding approvingly. He returned the gesture as she looked back down, inspecting her pistol, grappling gun, shotgun and combat knife, along with all the rest of her equipment, giving it all a once over. She had another knife lying there among it all that she must have left here, GHOST noted.

Not a model like the U.S.S. combat knife, but a Taiwan FURY Fairbairn Sykes Commando Knife. Perfect in its own right for assassinations... and it certainly looked like it had seen some wear and tear. A worn chestnut red handle with a dark tinted blade. An antique. He wondered how many throats it had opened... and how many of them by her. He studied it as she did, impressed... he should have known she'd have her own special knife, all things considered. Yet she didn't discard and replace GOBLIN 6's knife either... securing both of them to her belt instead. Within the gas mask, he smirked faintly... two knives were better than one. His kind of woman, alright. GHOST in turn finished checking the contact's suit pockets for some spare magazines... found a few and tucked them away into his pouches... along with the M19 in the empty spare sidearm holster on the opposite side of his holstered MUP. Rising once more, satisfied, he unslung his MP5 again, taking it up in both hands and turned back to Ada. She had stepped away from the bed, attaching a strap to the semi automatic shotgun and draping it across her shoulder and across her back. But to his surprise, she wasn't done with the case... reaching down into it, he watched, lips parting, as she withdrew another primary weapon from its depths, picking it up by a strap already fastened to it. A two tone grey and black tinted Steyr AUG A1 bullpup assault rifle... similar to the entirely jet black one the UT Commander carried around, GHOST remembered... minus the coloring and grenade launcher, but complete with a silencer, laser sight, and scope. He watched as she picked up an extended magazine and locked and loaded it into place in a rapid, well practiced manner. She held it up with another pleased, slight smile, raising it to her shoulder and aiming down the scope, red laser sight moving about the room, before drawing back her head again. Retrieving some more magazines for the rifle and tucking them into her pouches as well.

It should figure that was a kind of assault rifle she liked. Looking down her way, he found his voice and broke the silence, muffled tone wry through the gas mask, calling down to her. Teasing.

"Hey, Nikita... anything else over there in that bottomless weapons case with my name on it?"

"Do you really require more of them? You are geared up like an armory as it is."

"Hey, look who's talking. The more the merrier I always say. If the movie action heroes can do it, so can I. Besides, I ain't the light on my feet spy here, remember? I'm the pack mule. Can handle some more weight. Got a rocket launcher in there? Doesn't seem like that case is running out of space anytime soon."

The bandaged woman in red studied him with mild amusement for a moment, raising a brow... before looking down to the open case on the bed. For a moment he was sure she would throw a comeback his way... instead of doing what she did. Gesturing him over to join her at the bed. He was surprised for a moment, not expecting that, but obeyed at once with curiosity, stepping away from the desk and to the bed. Sure enough, slinging the assault rifle across her back next to the shotgun, she reached down and removed another weapon from inside the case he hadn't been able to see from his position earlier... an instantly familiar, useful Intratec TEC-9... along with some extended magazines for it in her other hand. He studied the machine pistol in her hand as she went on, tone remaining silky and quietly amused. Perhaps pleased by his reaction. Holding it out to him in offering as she spoke.

"How about this? Wasn't sure if I should bother packing it, but thought what the hell. I subscribe to 'the more the merrier' philosophy as well, where weapons are concerned. You can have it, if you really wish. Do you feel like an action hero yet?"

"Doesn't hurt... I'll let you know later. Didn't take you for a TEC-9 kind of girl... but ain't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Thanks, Nikita."

"Catherine. Not Nikita. I'm not French, if you hadn't noticed."

"Huh?"

"Black Cat? It was the Hong Kong version of that movie."

"More like a cheap knockoff, like the American version... wait a minute, are... you're from Hong Kong?"

"Another me was. Lived in many places, as many different women. For Ada... it's familiar territory.", Ada smirked at his surprise, looking between him and the gun again, but not elaborating despite his obvious curiosity. Playing mysterious again, as usual. Along with shaking the machine pistol a bit for him to take. "Now focus. And don't waste it... these things go through rounds in seconds. They are not unlimited, like in your movies."

"Wouldn't dream of it, red. Hong Kong cinema fan, huh? Never been there. But for what it's worth... I fucking loved Hard Boiled."

"Of course you did, Agent TEQUILA."

"Wish I'd been allowed to pick that code name. Least we got a bottle of the stuff, when this does or doesn't work out."

"It will. But I'm still going to need that drink as much as you."

GHOST returned her smirk faintly at last within the mask, chuckling under his breath at her remark, and gratefully took the TEC-9 from her along with the offered magazines, stowing them away in a pouch and drawing back away from the bed again, down closer to the desk. Feeling her enigmatic hazel eye following him along the way for a moment or two. Examining the weapon in the light as she finished up. Looking between the two differing weapons, whistling through the gas mask, impressed. Much as he liked the gift, would use it, it was best to stick to the submachine gun for now. He secured the TEC-9 to his waist belt, taking up the MP5, while over by the bed she took up her modified, silenced burst pistol again in both hands... moving down to him by the desk, leaving the sizable metal briefcase open and empty on the bed at last. Her resolved eye studied his mask, stepping away from the bed again and rejoining him near the corpse... and her calm, steady voice spoke up again as she reached him, over the rain and the moans outside... the distant cawing of the crows. Clear and ready for whatever lie ahead...sounding more confident than he felt about it.

"Now we can leave. We are as ready as we'll ever be."

"About time. Have a hell of a sense of timing, as I recall."

"A lady is never late, remember? Don't be afraid. We have time enough. All the time in the world."

"Take your word for it, then. Not like we're ashes if you're wrong, or anything."

"As you should. I'm something of an authority on the subject.", Ada's red lips smirked back at him faintly, before slowly looking backwards over her shoulder. His eyes followed hers to the corpse of her liaison, sitting there in his chair. She studied her fellow employee for a moment, hazel eye looking more a pitiless, calculating green now in the lighting, voice silky, shrugging her shoulders, and looking back GHOST's way as she spoke. "I suppose it's for the best that he went the way he did, in hindsight. It was quick... and now I don't have to leave him behind to the infected or nuclear blast... or have to shoot him myself."

"What do you mean?"

"There is only room for two, out of here. And besides... he wasn't nearly as interesting the way you are."

The woman in red rose a hand, brushing over his gas mask slightly before lowering it again, and smiled at him coldly at that. Pragmatic and ruthless when required. In control. Able to calculate life worth keeping and life worth expending... as she had already done down stairs with Doctor Baldwin and David. A cost and benefit analysis. Somehow he felt equally flattered by Ada's words... her choosing him over the other, being considered more interesting than the poor fool... and troubled and guilty by them at the same time, to be considered interesting by her. At the expense of her 'colleague'. A chill running along his spine. Maybe the liaison would prove the more fortunate, between the two of them, yet. He drew a breath through the mask, shaking his head and gathering himself, speaking up again evasively, moving them on... dropping the uncomfortable matter as quickly as he could, refocusing on the doomed city... the monsters and the imminent nuclear strike headed their way. It didn't take too much effort to do, with those factors involved.

"I... see. After you... then. I... got your back, Ada..."

"And I your front, Johnny Boy."

On that mildly teasing note of his name, cool smile lingering, Ada took the lead again, moving away from the desk and back to the hall to the door, heels clicking. GHOST watched her red and bandage clad figure stride down to it... pausing and taking one more look around the hotel room. Pausing on the dead liaison from the Organization, the man named Wesker had called it. Releasing a low, muffled breath, he looked back down to the door where she awaited him. Readying his MP5 he marched down after her... doing his best to keep the fear within... the looming dread. Despite his pity for her contact... all the same... if they were going to die, he would not do it as the contact had. Give up... lose it to despair. He hadn't survived as much as he had to do that... he'd sooner be torn apart by the horde. He would fight his way to the highway at her side... escape this city of the damned... or die in the attempt. He made his way down to the door and reached for the door handle before she could, tugging on it... to find it stuck fast. He tried again, rattling the handle in the door, cursing as his pulse quickened, unable to open the door. Pounding a fist against it roughly, slamming his shoulder against it, as it held fast and strong. In an instant the terrible thought of the approaching nuke took over again, the ticking clock against them... and he felt his aggravation and frustration bursting out of him before he could control it.

"Shit! What the fuck is wrong with this door?! Won't open! We're running out of time here, what-..."

Very calmly and quietly, Ada reached a hand down, then, and simply unlocked the door for him. In an instant the realization hit him... and he grunted with irritation as a warmth crept up the back of his neck again. He studied her again as she prepared to open it for them. She didn't rebuke him or mock him for his mistake as she did so, as she hadn't back in the sewer monitor room... despite how stupid he looked and how embarrassed he felt... despite how much he would have deserved it. Instead she settled a hand on his shoulder gently, squeezing it reassuringly, meeting his eye in the broken lens and nodding. He released a breath, breathing slowly again, trying to regain his cool... nodding again sheepishly right back, and stepping back out of her way, the warmth at his neck and cheeks lingering, in spite of how she had kindly responded to his idiocy. Murmuring under his breath wearily.

"Just not my goddamn day... month... or year, for that matter..."

"Chin up, handsome. Things will start looking up for you soon enough. You have me around now, remember?"

Regaining his relative calm at last... he studied Ada again at those confident, silky words... finding himself more grateful than he'd thought he'd ever be of her calm, cool presence. How level headed she was, even in all this madness. Keeping him grounded as well, at a moment like this where the panic threatened. And he recognized it wasn't only his life he was fighting for anymore... or for some viral sample. He would fight for her... make sure they both made it out. She had a place for him with her, somewhere out of here... somewhere better than Umbrella, perhaps... had argued for his life when he had never expected she would. Told her employer he had saved her life. Where Umbrella had abandoned him to be nuked by the government... or would have, unless they knew he'd had the sample. That sample was all his life had seemed to matter to them, as some rookie. He wasn't HUNK by a longshot... favored, a badass. The golden boy, as SENTINEL had rightly dubbed him. Maybe it was for the best he just get out while he still could... for his own sake, and Umbrella's. He was just another faceless rookie agent... perhaps he would be the same within the Organization she wanted him to join her in... but she didn't seem to see him that way. Had shown him more attention and care than he had from anyone at Umbrella. He didn't know if it was an act on her part or not... spies being what they were... but he believed it this time, even if it made him a fool. And he would have her company, entering this world of hers. He felt... a concern towards her. And an attraction. She must have known it... but she had been right in the sewer... there was a time and a place for everything, and this sure as hell wasn't either of them. He would trust her with their safety and what was to come... at least to the end of the road, close by now, and see where the next road would lead them.

Assuming they made it out.

Still... all he hoped was he wasn't committing the equivalent of what her contact they left behind in the hotel room had just resorted to, in doing so. And despite it all... Umbrella not giving a shit about him... the false advertisement he had bought from them... the difficult training he'd managed to pass... he felt some guilt to be betraying his oath to the U.S.S... and already too. On his first mission. He clearly didn't have the makings of being a U.S.S. Agent... but it still bothered him anyways. HUNK had taken a risk letting a rookie like him on to Alpha Team... and look how he had repaid the legend, in the end. Just now though, he focused on what lie ahead. One problem at a time. He could kick himself over all his many fuck ups later, hopefully. As she opened the door at last, the two of them starting through it together, setting off for the highway, weapons at the ready, he wondered if the 'Leon fellow' Wesker had mentioned her helping had been right not to remain with her. If GHOST was merely making that man's avoided mistake with her, instead. If they made it out of here, escaped... he would have to ask her about him at some point... what the story there was. Was he the other rookie she had alluded to down in the sewers?

Yet considering his time alone before their paths had crossed... what he'd been through and survived at NEST without her... maybe this was a mistake worth making. Especially given the alternative. An alternative he'd only narrowly avoided.

After all... misery loved company.

---

I quite enjoyed writing the Outbreak duo in this chapter, and the dynamics changing for GHOST and Ada when coming into contact with others. Becoming more protective/territorial over one another, for the duo and with Wesker. The Stockholm Syndrome growing in GHOST, as he slowly turns into the somewhat bumbling sidekick known as Agent. Like showing more of Ada's dark side too... yet the allure to her as well. Her taking charge, her experience. You can see why Leon was tempted by her, and why GHOST is succumbing. Also liked having someone who isn't impressed with Wesker, can see him for what he is, an overly dramatic supervillain... dangerous, but really kind of pathetic too. Nobody really ever put Wesker in his place properly in the games... apart from Chris, perhaps. Richard Waugh and DC Douglas are the only Wesker voices as far as I'm concerned, what I heard writing him.

Coming up next, the climax/action of the story... the last escape itself. Reviews are welcome and appreciated as ever.