((A dumbass can still be a useful dumbass.))
Hunk eagerly awaited the oncoming swarm. There could only be about twenty of them, maximum, and only so many could fit through the door at once. If he acted quickly enough, he could literally make a barricade of their own fallen comrades as to hinder the rest from coming through. But what in the hell was that boy's plan? Cling to the ceiling like before? For that matter, Hunk considered the notion that perhaps they wouldn't even go after him- for some reason, they only feasted upon their own as an absolute last resort. He himself had never seen these occasions, but had heard of such things. Whether or not he was one of them, that had yet to be seen.
The boy, meanwhile, had failed to do much more than wait about for the encroaching horde to burst its way in. And that it did, two front-line zombies clad in laboratory garments being the first to re-die thanks to two well-placed rounds into their rotting faces. They stumbled into their final resting place on the floor, and the others began flooding in more rapidly than Hunk had thought they would. Still, nothing he wouldn't be able to deal with at his current rate of fire. He only hoped, however, that he wouldn't have to change magazines. That might slow the process down slightly.
He was about to fire upon the third of what now seemed like thirty, when the mission objective jumped directly in front of his line of fire. Amazingly quickly, no less, which affirmed his previous thought that the boy was certainly no zombie. Such movements would literally make them come apart at the seams. Normally, he would have no qualms with opening fire- and, as a consequence, opening the skull of anybody stupid enough to pull a move like that. However, his mission was to escort this being to the surface. Alive. ...Provided, of course, it was indeed living. He had no choice but to wait for the fool to move out of the way.
But the teenage blueskin did no such thing, instead hurling himself directly into the squirming mob. The result made Hunk instantly re-consider his ability to trust sight. Because although he did not exactly see everything that went on in the massive torrent of flailing blue limbs and decayed flesh, he most certainly acknowledged the results. The boy had already forced his way out the door, and dismembered everything in the way of him doing so. It was like watching a humanoid lawnmower in action. Hunk observed coolly, that being the only mannerism he had displayed during his entire career under Umbrella. Still, he had to note efficiency when he saw it. And when it came to the business of rending zombie masses into a literal carpet of organs, the kid had him beat.
It was a constant assault on the eardrums, of grief-stricken groans and pangs of hunger let loose on the sense of sound in moaning format mixing up with bags of meat and bone being bludgeoned by supernaturally-endowed fists until they simply collapsed. Hunk had never visited a meat packing plant, but he imagined that this would undoubtedly be what it sounded like. And with a smell none too different. Luckily, the gas mask preventing offensive odors coming from the half-dead from seeping into his nostrils. Truly that thing was a blessing.
Either way, he counted it to perhaps being seven seconds exactly before there were no more sounds of zombie resistance. The boy, now absolutely doused in bodily fluids and organic matter not his own, seemed to take up a crouch reminiscent of the typical gargoyle statue. He inspected each fragile cadaver with two empty sockets, perhaps making sure that it was indeed a finished task.
And it was the first time in several days that Hunk spoke, directly after that point. "Let's go." He stated coldly. He was here to accomplish a mission, not praise some showboating freak. With that, he kept his rifle at the ready and began towards the elevator.