(Okay. Wrapping things up. Call this an epilogue for Hunk if you like.
Keepin' it short.)
Hunk had made his way out of the base fairly easily, the emergency exit markers lead him right to, of course, the emergency exit. Of course, knowing he had an ample amount of time, the fellow had made a few stops along the way. The elevator, for instance. He felt it necessary to, at the very least, put his unskilled former co-workers out of their misery. It was kind of comical in all honesty, the way they shambled towards him. He allowed the suit-clad zombies to come nearer, their mangled bodies still garbed in what he himself was wearing. They grabbed at him, they tried to bite, but the gas masks they wore wouldn't allow it.
Hunk merely laughed at the futile efforts, and took the time to personally club them all into the icy grave that was the metal lab floor. The stock of his weapon was, by this point, dripping a waterfall of greasy humanoid residue. Not a problem. Just another battle trophy to him, in fact. Besides, the weapon, his suit, as well as he himself would be vigorously decontaminated upon immediate return to wherever they felt like stationing him.
The sunlight felt awful once he stepped outside, leaving a miniature hell in his wake. Zombie corpses were strewn left and right, but more often than not he simply went past them. He felt it necessary to leave SOME of them to die to the acid, after all.
The chopper was discreet, nothing at all like the significantly larger military-style one that took them to the place. The pilot, seemingly contemptuous of Hunk, simply handed the man a headset as he removes his gas mask. "It's headquarters. One of the board members wants to talk with you."
Hunk obliged, placing the headset on accordingly. "Yeah." He stated, simply to verify to whoever was on the other end of the conversation that he was there.
"Hunk, we of the board of directors have been paying attention to your...Work, for quite some time now. We feel that a man with your skills has no need to work with others more than is absolutely necessary."
Hunk simply listened.
The aged-sounding man on the other line paused, waiting for a response. Finding none, he continued. "Which is why we feel the need to promote you, Hunk...Or perhaps I should say, Special Agent Hunk."
Hunk, finding this to be no big surprise, simply spoke as coolly as ever. "And where will you be positioning me?"
"Paris headquarters, for now. However, we may have a job for you soon...Out in the Midwest, a place called Raccoon City..."
Keepin' it short.)
Hunk had made his way out of the base fairly easily, the emergency exit markers lead him right to, of course, the emergency exit. Of course, knowing he had an ample amount of time, the fellow had made a few stops along the way. The elevator, for instance. He felt it necessary to, at the very least, put his unskilled former co-workers out of their misery. It was kind of comical in all honesty, the way they shambled towards him. He allowed the suit-clad zombies to come nearer, their mangled bodies still garbed in what he himself was wearing. They grabbed at him, they tried to bite, but the gas masks they wore wouldn't allow it.
Hunk merely laughed at the futile efforts, and took the time to personally club them all into the icy grave that was the metal lab floor. The stock of his weapon was, by this point, dripping a waterfall of greasy humanoid residue. Not a problem. Just another battle trophy to him, in fact. Besides, the weapon, his suit, as well as he himself would be vigorously decontaminated upon immediate return to wherever they felt like stationing him.
The sunlight felt awful once he stepped outside, leaving a miniature hell in his wake. Zombie corpses were strewn left and right, but more often than not he simply went past them. He felt it necessary to leave SOME of them to die to the acid, after all.
The chopper was discreet, nothing at all like the significantly larger military-style one that took them to the place. The pilot, seemingly contemptuous of Hunk, simply handed the man a headset as he removes his gas mask. "It's headquarters. One of the board members wants to talk with you."
Hunk obliged, placing the headset on accordingly. "Yeah." He stated, simply to verify to whoever was on the other end of the conversation that he was there.
"Hunk, we of the board of directors have been paying attention to your...Work, for quite some time now. We feel that a man with your skills has no need to work with others more than is absolutely necessary."
Hunk simply listened.
The aged-sounding man on the other line paused, waiting for a response. Finding none, he continued. "Which is why we feel the need to promote you, Hunk...Or perhaps I should say, Special Agent Hunk."
Hunk, finding this to be no big surprise, simply spoke as coolly as ever. "And where will you be positioning me?"
"Paris headquarters, for now. However, we may have a job for you soon...Out in the Midwest, a place called Raccoon City..."
