The man known as "Hunk" marched stiffly up to the door of the seventh-floor conference room. He
waited for the red light over the door to turn green, then watched it slide slowly open as he
entered. Around the table were the four members of his team, and at its head was Christeen Henry,
the vice President of the French branch of Umbrella.
"Let's get started, shall we?" she said crisply. "In 1989, the recently diseesed Albert
Wesker forced us to give him a copy of our Nemesis parasite. He was planning to help the
longevity of the parasite--the subjects we have so far tested the parasite on have all been
killed by the process of turning them into Nemesis Bioweapons. I personally believe that if he
could have created a Nemesis bioweapon he would have taken credit from us, but that is beside the
point. They used it on a woman named Lisa Trevor, and her brain... well... ate it. Dr. William
Birkin began testing the woman, and found a new virus from her DNA: the "G-Virus". He began work
on this new virus, and soon was givven full credit." She leaned forward across the table. "Using
our research, Dr. Birkin made a breakthrough discovery and claimed the credit for it." Her eyes
burned into Hunks. Hunk, who had a reputation as a hard-ass, flinched away from the power of
those eyes. "We couldn't do anything about this for the
past few years; Birkin and Wesker had Ozwell Spencer's ear and it would have been useless to
complain. But recently, things have changed.
"I wonder if any of you are aware of the incident in July of 1998 involving the Spencer
mansion?" They all did. The story had spread like wildfire throughout the megacorporation, and
had scared quite a few people. "The results of that have been that Wesker was killed and Ozwell
appears to have dropped off the earth." She leaned forward again. "We have an opportunity,
gentlemen." She paused. "Your mission is to infiltrate Dr. William Birkin's labs, and obtain a
sample of the G-Virus. By ANY MEANS NECESSARY. Are we clear on this? Failure on this mission is
not an option." Everyone understood that failure was an option, but only if you wanted to die.
"Good. You leave in twenty-four hours. Prepare yourselves, gentlemen."
The unmarked Gulfstream jet flew smoothly across the continental divide and towards the
midwestern town of Raccoon City. On it were five men carrying enough armament to invade a third-
world country. They went over the maps of Birkin's underground complex again. The man had very
little regard for security--no, that wasn't right, Hunk thought. The man knew quite a lot about
security--but it was the wrong kind. He was always working on keeping things in, and never
bothered to try and keep other people out. Hunk smirked to himself, thinking about how the poor
fool had no idea what was going to happen to him in a few hours.
The jet touched down smoothly at the airport. The men loaded their equipment into a waiting
van, then the pilot turned his jet around and took off. He had a good novel to read; he couldn't
wait to see what happened to duke Escrimnor and Princess Mariamell.
Hunk drove the van to an abandoned house near the entrance to BirkinS lab. There, he set up
the receiving end of a surveillance system he would use to communicate with his team. As all of
his troops knew this wasn't because Hunk was a coward; it was because having someone in reserve
was sound military strategy, and the leader was too important to risk on a mission unless it
became necessary. Hunk doubted this, as it was four to one and the one didn't have submachine
guns.
The four soldiers walked quietly down the underground tunnel. They were each outfitted in
body armor, night-vision goggles, and gas masks. The latter was an addition they usually did not
use, but considering the fact that they were dealing with airborne viruses it seemed a good idea,
even though they all had been vaccinated beforehand. They were each armed with Mp 10 submachine
guns and an explosive charge. Said guns had been obtained for them by Hunk, who stubbornly held
out that "uzis are for pussies."
They each reached the heavy reenforced door at the end of the tunnel, which led to where
Birkin would be hard at work perfecting the last few details of the G-Virus. One of them
whispered into his radio headset "we have reached the doors."
"Blow them," came the calm monotonic voice of Hunk over their radios. They each planted
their charges on the door, and stepped back. One of the agents raised his weapon, and fired a
three-round burst at the door.
The quadroopal explosion would have been enough to punch through a brick wall, or knock down
a tree. The door was blown off its hinges, and fell, slowly at first, into the room, hitting the
floor with a clang that was softened by the fact that the metal had slightly melted.
"Go!" came the shout over the radios as the four surged forward en mass. Dr. William Berkin
was just filling a hypodermic surringe with a sample of the G-Virus. This they could tell because
the vial he was pouring from was labeled. He turned around, "startled" being too nice a word but
there's no other to describe his feelings.
"Alright, Birkin, we're here for your G-Virus. You're gonna hand it over, or you're gonna
die. Or maybe you'll grow a third arm out of your forehead and kick all our asses," the agent
joked, earning him a hard glare from the agent beside him. Birkin grew enraged. "Absolutely not!
You will not have my G-Virus--my creation! I made it, and I will not allow you to--"
An agent cut off Birken's speech before he could go into full mad scientist mode by firing
his weapon into Birkin.
"Gunfire! Who the hell is firing over there? I said no casualties unless it was necessary,
goddamnit!" came an angry blare from the radio headsets. Birkin slumped over, holding his stomach
in pain. He must have known his death was soon.
"No... I will never die... you won't kill me that easily!" And, to the watching agents'
astonnishment and horror, Birkin jammed the needle he had been holding into the side of his neck.
"Ooooooohh shiiiet," someone muttered over the radio link. Simultaneously the soldiers set
their weapons to full-auto mode and began blazing away.
"What the fuck is this, a fourth-of-the-july party? I said no fucking shooting! What the
hell do you need to be shooting at? What the fuck is going on!"
No one bothered to inform him--they had their own problems. They had been too late in
firing. Almost instantaneously, Birkin began to transform. The agents had seen pictures of
creatures created by Umbrella's bioweapons... and they looked NOTHING like this. This... thing.
There was absolutely no other word to describe it. The umbrella report called this potential
monster a "G-Type", but that was only a label people could use that could make them cold and
uncaring towards it. People who had come face-to-face with these monsters would never consider
them that way again.
The submachine gun fire did surprisingly little. The creature thrashed around wildly and
uncontrolably, breaking just about everything in there in the process. One of the things that was
broken was a sample of T-Virus, which seuer rats would carry into Raccoon City. The agents did
not have time to dwell on this fact, however. They didn't even notice--they were too busy just
trying to stay alive.
Hunk slammed his microphone onto the table in a rage. Some trigger-happy idiot had gone and
shot Birkin, and now he had no idea what was happening. There had been that guy who breathed "oh
shit", and then there had been shooting, growling, screaming, and a bunch of breaking glass and
commotion. He was screaming into the microphone for someone, anyone, to give him a fucking status
report and right now, if you please but they were paying him no goddamn heed. Now, the sounds
coming out of the radio pickups were hard to distinguish from each other. A high-pitched scream
cut through the cacophany on the radio. It was quickly replaced by an ear-splitting inhuman roar
which drowned all else out, which was in turn quickly cut off by a violent blare of static.
Hunk swore mightily over the dead radio link. If you need something done, he remarked
irritably to himself as he grabbed his AK-108, you need to get it done yourself.
waited for the red light over the door to turn green, then watched it slide slowly open as he
entered. Around the table were the four members of his team, and at its head was Christeen Henry,
the vice President of the French branch of Umbrella.
"Let's get started, shall we?" she said crisply. "In 1989, the recently diseesed Albert
Wesker forced us to give him a copy of our Nemesis parasite. He was planning to help the
longevity of the parasite--the subjects we have so far tested the parasite on have all been
killed by the process of turning them into Nemesis Bioweapons. I personally believe that if he
could have created a Nemesis bioweapon he would have taken credit from us, but that is beside the
point. They used it on a woman named Lisa Trevor, and her brain... well... ate it. Dr. William
Birkin began testing the woman, and found a new virus from her DNA: the "G-Virus". He began work
on this new virus, and soon was givven full credit." She leaned forward across the table. "Using
our research, Dr. Birkin made a breakthrough discovery and claimed the credit for it." Her eyes
burned into Hunks. Hunk, who had a reputation as a hard-ass, flinched away from the power of
those eyes. "We couldn't do anything about this for the
past few years; Birkin and Wesker had Ozwell Spencer's ear and it would have been useless to
complain. But recently, things have changed.
"I wonder if any of you are aware of the incident in July of 1998 involving the Spencer
mansion?" They all did. The story had spread like wildfire throughout the megacorporation, and
had scared quite a few people. "The results of that have been that Wesker was killed and Ozwell
appears to have dropped off the earth." She leaned forward again. "We have an opportunity,
gentlemen." She paused. "Your mission is to infiltrate Dr. William Birkin's labs, and obtain a
sample of the G-Virus. By ANY MEANS NECESSARY. Are we clear on this? Failure on this mission is
not an option." Everyone understood that failure was an option, but only if you wanted to die.
"Good. You leave in twenty-four hours. Prepare yourselves, gentlemen."
The unmarked Gulfstream jet flew smoothly across the continental divide and towards the
midwestern town of Raccoon City. On it were five men carrying enough armament to invade a third-
world country. They went over the maps of Birkin's underground complex again. The man had very
little regard for security--no, that wasn't right, Hunk thought. The man knew quite a lot about
security--but it was the wrong kind. He was always working on keeping things in, and never
bothered to try and keep other people out. Hunk smirked to himself, thinking about how the poor
fool had no idea what was going to happen to him in a few hours.
The jet touched down smoothly at the airport. The men loaded their equipment into a waiting
van, then the pilot turned his jet around and took off. He had a good novel to read; he couldn't
wait to see what happened to duke Escrimnor and Princess Mariamell.
Hunk drove the van to an abandoned house near the entrance to BirkinS lab. There, he set up
the receiving end of a surveillance system he would use to communicate with his team. As all of
his troops knew this wasn't because Hunk was a coward; it was because having someone in reserve
was sound military strategy, and the leader was too important to risk on a mission unless it
became necessary. Hunk doubted this, as it was four to one and the one didn't have submachine
guns.
The four soldiers walked quietly down the underground tunnel. They were each outfitted in
body armor, night-vision goggles, and gas masks. The latter was an addition they usually did not
use, but considering the fact that they were dealing with airborne viruses it seemed a good idea,
even though they all had been vaccinated beforehand. They were each armed with Mp 10 submachine
guns and an explosive charge. Said guns had been obtained for them by Hunk, who stubbornly held
out that "uzis are for pussies."
They each reached the heavy reenforced door at the end of the tunnel, which led to where
Birkin would be hard at work perfecting the last few details of the G-Virus. One of them
whispered into his radio headset "we have reached the doors."
"Blow them," came the calm monotonic voice of Hunk over their radios. They each planted
their charges on the door, and stepped back. One of the agents raised his weapon, and fired a
three-round burst at the door.
The quadroopal explosion would have been enough to punch through a brick wall, or knock down
a tree. The door was blown off its hinges, and fell, slowly at first, into the room, hitting the
floor with a clang that was softened by the fact that the metal had slightly melted.
"Go!" came the shout over the radios as the four surged forward en mass. Dr. William Berkin
was just filling a hypodermic surringe with a sample of the G-Virus. This they could tell because
the vial he was pouring from was labeled. He turned around, "startled" being too nice a word but
there's no other to describe his feelings.
"Alright, Birkin, we're here for your G-Virus. You're gonna hand it over, or you're gonna
die. Or maybe you'll grow a third arm out of your forehead and kick all our asses," the agent
joked, earning him a hard glare from the agent beside him. Birkin grew enraged. "Absolutely not!
You will not have my G-Virus--my creation! I made it, and I will not allow you to--"
An agent cut off Birken's speech before he could go into full mad scientist mode by firing
his weapon into Birkin.
"Gunfire! Who the hell is firing over there? I said no casualties unless it was necessary,
goddamnit!" came an angry blare from the radio headsets. Birkin slumped over, holding his stomach
in pain. He must have known his death was soon.
"No... I will never die... you won't kill me that easily!" And, to the watching agents'
astonnishment and horror, Birkin jammed the needle he had been holding into the side of his neck.
"Ooooooohh shiiiet," someone muttered over the radio link. Simultaneously the soldiers set
their weapons to full-auto mode and began blazing away.
"What the fuck is this, a fourth-of-the-july party? I said no fucking shooting! What the
hell do you need to be shooting at? What the fuck is going on!"
No one bothered to inform him--they had their own problems. They had been too late in
firing. Almost instantaneously, Birkin began to transform. The agents had seen pictures of
creatures created by Umbrella's bioweapons... and they looked NOTHING like this. This... thing.
There was absolutely no other word to describe it. The umbrella report called this potential
monster a "G-Type", but that was only a label people could use that could make them cold and
uncaring towards it. People who had come face-to-face with these monsters would never consider
them that way again.
The submachine gun fire did surprisingly little. The creature thrashed around wildly and
uncontrolably, breaking just about everything in there in the process. One of the things that was
broken was a sample of T-Virus, which seuer rats would carry into Raccoon City. The agents did
not have time to dwell on this fact, however. They didn't even notice--they were too busy just
trying to stay alive.
Hunk slammed his microphone onto the table in a rage. Some trigger-happy idiot had gone and
shot Birkin, and now he had no idea what was happening. There had been that guy who breathed "oh
shit", and then there had been shooting, growling, screaming, and a bunch of breaking glass and
commotion. He was screaming into the microphone for someone, anyone, to give him a fucking status
report and right now, if you please but they were paying him no goddamn heed. Now, the sounds
coming out of the radio pickups were hard to distinguish from each other. A high-pitched scream
cut through the cacophany on the radio. It was quickly replaced by an ear-splitting inhuman roar
which drowned all else out, which was in turn quickly cut off by a violent blare of static.
Hunk swore mightily over the dead radio link. If you need something done, he remarked
irritably to himself as he grabbed his AK-108, you need to get it done yourself.