6. Always You

It was the Birkin creature again searching for its prey, clutched in Hunk's arms. Both girls darted their heads toward the roar. The agent quickly backtracked in his mind and mentally checked the blueprints that he found on the way here… the stairs to the helipad was right around the corner through the next door. Claire looked at him and he stared back. She desperately reached out for Sherry, the girl reacting in kind, but the agent held her tight and waited for the monster. The sample was here- fresh for the taking.

"What are you doing! Let her go."

He didn't bother to answer. He cocked his head towards the doorway and heard the booming, thudding steps echoing just past the hall. Quickly formulating up a plan, he decided on one that could be executed quickly. He would shove the girl towards the monster, and when it made a strike, he would plug it in the eye-shoulder, following up with a flash bang. It would give him enough time to extract a blood sample and retreat safely. What would happen to the girl and the civilian, he didn't know. He couldn't afford the time to think for them too.

"The G-Virus," he said. He half-heartedly cursed himself for saying it out loud and getting excited over having the mission objective so close at hand, but adrenaline was already flowing into his system, ready to be utilized at the right time.

Quickly assessing the situation, Hunk knew he would have to move very fast if he wanted to get the sample and make it to the evac chopper on time. The Umbrella agent stalked forward, finding that his movements were impeded by the horrified child trying to pull away.

Claire immediately made for him. Sherry whimpered. Hunk turned to kill Claire where she stood. And Sherry screamed, "Stop!"

Somewhere in the police station, very, very close, the monster gave back an answering cry. Hunk looked at Sherry, who was clutching a little gold necklace –locket- that he hadn't noticed before. Her eyes seemed to shimmer with tears and her mouth was pressed in a straight line. Claire watched on as Sherry started her own negotiations with the Umbrella agent.

"I don't know what a G-Virus is," Sherry said. Her voice was soft, yet fearless. "But I think this is what you're looking for?"

She removed her locket.

Hunk took it. He looked it over.

"Mom told me to watch over that. She said there's something important inside that people are trying to get." Sherry glanced towards Claire, answered with a nod. "Maybe that's what you need."

Opening it, Hunk thumbed the family picture inside, feeling an unnatural cold bump beneath. He lifted up the picture and was rewarded with the sight of something he had been searching for this whole time. A tiny capsule vial with flowing purple-greenish liquid. In the middle was a small sticker that held only one letter.

'G'.

His grip lost slack and Sherry stepped backwards. When he didn't react, she ran back to Claire, who grasped her tight in a great big hug. For a moment, both girls were lost to Hunk as he pocketed his reward. Now he had no reason to stay. Three minutes and counting, best to get going. Double-time. The girls were still locked in their embrace, the child sobbing in relief.

Strange.

At this angle, in this light, Claire Redfield looked like a mother comforting a child. Hunk looked away. He didn't need to fret about this, this sort of thing was something he would never have. Instead, he reached down and snatched up his radio.

"Base. This is Hunk." He said into the static. "G-Virus sample retrieved. Extracting to heliport now."

The curt reply was: "Good. Any obstacles?"

Claire lifted her head, meeting Hunk's shielded eyes.

"No."

"Good. Base, out."

"Hunk, out."

He stayed in that position for a while. A horrid rapid pounding and trumpeting shriek broke off their eye contact. The door just ahead of them was slamming against its hinges, dust trickling down from the ceiling. The Umbrella agent started to move back into the shadows towards the helipad; his job was finished. The civilian and the girl were no concern to him anymore. However, for some reason, he stopped and set down a flash-bang grenade near them, making his way up the stairs without looking back.

When he closed the latched helipad door behind him, Hunk allowed himself a brief wonderment of what he had just done. Although it was a mere flash-bang, it was a weapon- his weapon. Why did he waste one on them, when he had no reason for it, no need? When the chopper started to descent, he heard the flash-bang detonate, followed along with rapid gunshots and the violent screaming of the monster. He was already boarding the Umbrella helicopter when the gunfire and the screaming abruptly stopped, shedding him no clue of the victor of the undoubtedly brutal skirmish.

He supposed it didn't matter. It just wasn't his business. He sat ramrod straight on the metal bench in the chopper interior, supported by steel-rod struts. Resting his arms on his knees, the Umbrella agent listened dispassionately as the pilot looked back at him and remarked:

"Always you, Mr. Death."

Hunk deposited his MP5A2 back into the mounted rifle stocks next to his bench. His was the only rifle that constantly managed to keep its place. It settled easily, slipping into the worn wooden black stock with a satisfying click.

The pilot continued with his irritating insults thinly veiled as compliments, "Always, only you survive, Mr. Death."

Indeed, the pilot must have deemed it fitting to serve Hunk his usual nickname in that particular mocking tone. Hunk didn't notice, and if he did, he wouldn't care. With a wayward glance towards his discarded utility belt, he looked at the empty pouch that the flash-bang once was pocketed in.

That woman: Claire Redfield. Her 'friend', Sherry Birkin. Redfield's definition of 'friend' was very vague and gave Hunk virtually no answers, at least not the ones he was looking for.

Friends.

Did they exist? Would he ever have any of his own? Would he ever be an important part in someone's life, other than being the ruthless pawn that followed orders obediently like a well-trained police dog, released only when the situation called for it?

Hunk shook his head.

Before solemnly snapping off the latches of his all-too-familiar gas mask and seeing the world outside the chopper in its natural colors as opposed to the usual shades of crimson; scarlet; ruby; burgundy through his lenses that he was more used to, he shook his head in disappointment.

He had only one thing to say to all the thoughts about friends and the possibility of having any. He said, muttering under his breath through the hiss of his gas mask filter:

"Inconceivable."

Fin

Notes: Whew! This is one of the rare times in my entire writing career (if it could be called that) where I've had the satisfaction of typing down that fabled word 'fin'.

Well, I'm finished, and not with a bang, but with a baffled "Inconcievable", to which I humbly apologize, I just had to make Hunk say it.

No other ending would do.

Jarhead43, thanks for reading, and thanks for speaking up! When I get the time, I'll be sure to go back and correct that little tiff... however, which submachine guns do you recommend for the tactical invasion and infiltration missions that Umbrella Special Forces troops are so famous for? Particularly, which ones have shotgun attachments?

Everyone else, even those who didn't review, thanks for reading. Writing this thing was terrific fun, and even though I didn't get a lot of feedback on my writing, the ones I did get help me greatly, and for that, I thank you.

Till next story,

-Jeremy (Ronald)