((Oh-ho-ho, here we go.))
This was not a laboratory room at all. This was... This was a teenager's room. What the bloody hell was this doing here? A bed, a mountainous stack of porn magazines and DVDs in the middle of the room, ceiling fan, Frank Zappa posters on the walls, a desk, a computer chair, and the computer to go with it. What in the hell was this all about? Were the higher-ups deciding to just fuck with his head until he shot himself? Was that Umbrella's new policy for their most exceptionally talented field agent?
"Knock next time, asshole. Jesus. Ain't no common courtesy these days."
Unfortunately, Hunk could not cancel out an instinct he had spent his entire career instilling into himself. And so, when a voice came from directly above him and surprised him- in an already tense scenario no less, his first instinct was to swivel the firearm upwards and pump off a short burst. Three rounds, hastily aimed by the master shooter, found themselves a new home within the upper torso of something Hunk had not expected. At all. In the least. Not in a million years. Not even after that.
His mind didn't even know where to begin trying to understand. The creature above him was humanoid, at the very least. Two arms, two legs, a torso and a head. It was clothed, another plus. Simple garb seemed to consist of a black pair of cargo pants, slightly on the baggy side. It was the other details that threw him off slightly. For one, there wasn't a hint of especially severe mutilation or rotting. The creature gripping the flat ceiling without any visible effort was unscathed, save three new foreign objects lodged into his chest. And that was another thing that struck him: This being was obviously male, and rather young at that. He guessed somewhere in the late teens.
Furthermore, it could talk. The closest he had heard of, when it came to such a thing, was either the Ashford rumor or the Nemesis project. Its- rather, his skin was a deep blue shade and absolutely covered in pitch black laceration scars. Perhaps most unusual yet was how the boy seemed to be grinning, after being shot three times- and that he was still alive, without even having exit wounds. The grin revealed four small extensions of canines, almost fangs but not quite. Still, they looked very sharp indeed- perhaps this one fed on living flesh, like most of the other creations.
And further up yet, Hunk could not help but note that the boy even displayed some signs of being a healthy teenager. He still had hair, of a coppery red shade no less. It seemed to be fashioned short, slightly more so than Hunk's own. Almost acceptable by most military standards. And his eyes... Well, they simply were not. Twin sockets gaped at Hunk, spilling a strange feeling of emptiness all over the room. No eyelids, no eyepatch, nothing. Just two voids.
"What in the hell was that for, dickweed?! Goddamn, that hurts like a sum'bitch!"
Hunk kept his weapon trained on the blue thing, and turned around in order to back away further into the room. It was crucial to remove himself from being directly beneath this creature, in the event that it did decide to go on the offensive. However, he realized he was being asked a question. Stopping in his tracks, Hunk could answer only with a cold shrug. Well, this was awkward.
The boy dropped into a graceful crouch, landing with a silence that was beyond the ability of a human to produce. His movement was exceptionally fluid, which made Hunk yet more suspicious. Still, he said nothing, and simply kept steady aim at the thing's face.
"Er. Dude. Lower the rifle. If I wanted to kick your ass, I'd have done so when you first came into the room. Y'know, when I was like, directly above you and ready to land on your head 'n' tear it clean off?"
Hunk failed to comply for a few seconds, before deeming that the young one had a point. Still, he said nothing in response whilst lowering the rifle- but, ever vigilant, he kept it at the ready. The blue boy stepped forth, and offered out his right hand. By this point, Hunk couldn't help but note how the three rounds were gradually being pushed out of the teen's chest. It was a slow regeneration process compared to some of the experiments he'd heard of, and that of the madman Birkin, but it was doing the job. "Anyhow, I reckon it's time for a proper introduction- even though you capped me thrice. You ass. Name's-"
Hunk had to wonder why the boy paused, and his trigger finger tensed. "Hold that thought, uh," the boy leaned forth, as if scrutinizing Hunk's tag with his lack-of-eyes. "Hunk? Yeah. Anyhow, I forgot what a loudmouth I was, and it seems I woke the dead."
And he wasn't lying. An influx of zombies, undoubtedly all of the ones in the compound, seemed to be at the door. And what a remarkably easy door it was to open. Hunk pressed the stock to his shoulder, tilted his head to align with the scope, and backed up to the wall. These things weren't going to shoot themselves, after all.