((Right then. Let's get started. Here's where I can start to have some fun
with things and pick up the pace.))

Gloved fingers slid across the lower half of the sub-machine gun's muzzle, bracing themselves for use of the weapon. At the same time the eye hidden behind a gas mask's tinted right eyepiece was aligning the weapon's sights with a gradually-moving target, specifically slightly below the nose of an oncoming infectite. "Mine." A voice with an indifferent chill to it proclaimed softly, becoming a bit muffled through the mask's filters. The small hole of the sight combined with expert hands guided the muzzle of the weapon right above the zombie's anxious and greedy lips, which were already near falling off of the poor former-scientist.

Ba-dum. A single, surprisingly soft shot echoed through the dim research room. The bullet tore out of the MP5A2's muzzle and into the zombie's face, the small spiraling indents carved within the barrel of the firearm placing a subtle twist upon the nine millimeter Parabellum round that struck its target with as much cold efficiency as the gun's user. The bullet smashed through bone and tumbled around right through the beast's brain stem, exploding out the back of its head in a surprisingly clean display.

"Nice shot, Mr. Death." Spoke a voice from behind him. Without even a nod to acknowledge his teammate's remark, he immediately kept his weapon at the ready, full plastic stock braced against his right shoulder comfortably. He heard footsteps behind him but did not react, as he was listening for movement in front of and around him- behind him was the cavalry, and they were hardly to be feared. All far less skilled, all just rookies compared to he. The former-zombie had, by this time, slumped back against the wall and slid into its final resting place.

His left hand slid forward, and twisted a small notched ring near the barrel of his gun. This activated the gun-light, which provided a solid circle of illumination wherever he chose to point his weapon. Peripheral vision allowed him to take note of the others on his team doing likewise, the single-file line of ten men pouring in through the open door behind him; scanning over every detail of the office-like room.

Desk, papers, chair, pen, recently-slain zombie. Another boring area, may as well voice how pointless the expedition into this particular room is and- now what have we here. His calculated gaze swept across a supply closet door in unison with his gun-light, and a grim smile crossed Hunk's features beneath the protective mask. He tentatively reached out his left arm, a hand clad in a black insulating glove allowing its fingers to slowly close in upon the doorknob. A twist of his wrist, followed by a rapid pull. A moan and hasty movement greeted him from within the closet's cluttered space.

His gun-light's illumination proved it to be a mere shell of a former human being lunging towards him with voracious hunger, blind embitterment binding the thing to its hollow excuse for an existence. Another instant passed and four more lights were centered on the being, yet before any trigger finger could even twitch, Hunk's right elbow had flown out, his left arm gripping the sub-machine gun's muzzle for extra strength. Perhaps a fraction of a second later the hungry dead had found itself colliding with the solid stock of Hunk's weapon, its nose and upper jaw being pressed back by the driving force of his attacker's elbow.

On Hunk's end of things however, there was little more than a satisfying 'crunch' as his weapon proved itself more steadfast than the walking dead by plowing into its target. The zombie's nosebone and most of its upper teeth were sent farther back into its head than they ever should be, rendering its only method of flesh consumption absolutely useless. Less than a second passed from when the combat began, and the infected one already found itself slamming into the back of the closet, another victim of Hunk's tenacious survival skills.

Upon watching the enemy smash without control through a few broom handles and land in a seated heap with its back to the wall, Hunk decided to finish the job. He wasn't being paid to play with these things, nor was it a wise idea. Toying with one's foe was a sign of carelessness, as well as arrogance. And the arrogant always fell. As a pathetic moan escaped the zombie's half-functional lips, it was forever silenced by a Parabellum round slamming into its hairless skull.

Hunk simply shone his light about the closet for possibly things of interest, and, finding none, swiftly turned around to face his dazed backup. "N-nothing here. Let's move out", the captain stuttered before giving the signal to exit the room. Hunk left last, pondering a few things about his weapon idly. Granted, the Heckler and Koch MP5A2 sub-machine gun was clichéd, but for a good reason. Sturdy, lightweight, reliable, effective. He tossed the idle thoughts away, now considering a matter of far more importance.

It had been at least two hours since their entry, with relatively few undead- and no explosions or screams coming from their entrance point, the cavern mouth. This meant only two possibilities. Either their rivals had yet to be deployed, or the competition was already on its way; and more importantly, skilled enough to avoid traps meant for fools. The first choice seemed illogical at best.

His nerves gave him an action, and without delay he performed it. Hunk deftly executed a 180 degree spin movement, his light blazing down the corridor, a circle of illumination landing shakily on the wall of the sharp bend they had recently turned down. His gaze jumped from point to point in the office halls, quickly identifying all spots they had visited. Mainly empty rooms, only a few actually had life- if one could call it that, within.

Nothing. Well, not nothing. Just paranoia. He turned around once again, noting that the team had carried on without him. How very observant of them. He hurried to catch up, and fell back into his place as they braved the halls ahead.

But he knew that the enemy- the true enemy, was somewhere. Watching, waiting, or hunting. Maybe all. Maybe none, and he was just being foolish. Nonetheless, Hunk promptly agreed with himself that no careless actions should be taken on his part from here on out.

((I just had to add him. He's too cool to leave out. If Wesker is RE's greatest character, then there's not a shadow of a doubt in my mind that Hunk is a close second.))