Chapter 11. "A new day."

You must be a sorceress 'cause you just did the impossible. Gain my trust.

…

"Alright, spit it out. What's going on?" Vector inquired as he walked with a comrade.

"There is nothing to talk about." Hunk fanned his mouth with a prolonged yawn over the mouthpiece of his gas mask. Doing so out of habit instead and knew how silly it was to do so. He opened the door to his room and halted Vector in his tracks. Hunk shook his head and closed it.

Hunk had his gloved hands unlatch the strap of his helmet and lightly tossed it on his fold-out bunk. With the helmet off, about three more straps on the back, his head rested on top of his balaclava mask. He removed the rest by muscle memory as the seal on his face loosened up, and a brief rush of air kissed his skin. The masks on his head kept his hair flat, and he just welcomed the cool breeze. He allowed himself to drop into a chair beside his bed and had his bandaged hand rested on his forehead.

He took long, deep breathes while he stared at the ceiling—a smirk formed at his lips with a light scoff.

Funny how people think he is magically capable. It almost made him laugh at the rumors he hears about himself.

"They say he doesn't eat."

"It said mister death is actually some kind of a demon created by Umbrella."

"I heard he is a vampire. I heard he make sure the job is done no matter what, and he never tires at all, returns home, and never sleeps."

At first, he never knew he gained this kind of infamy amongst the USS and UBCS, but still, it was so damn silly to Hunk.

Hunk's mind went on with such thoughts as he tugged over his under the collar of his uniform then pulled a diamond ring linked into silver chains. It shined in the light. He moved his wrist a bit, so it twirled for a bit, and set it down on a small table across from the chair. Hunk rubbed his eyelids then sat upright in the chair. Hunk pulled out his knife. At the sharpened end, he could see the crust of dried-up crimson. 'For the Undead, it's still it's an act of mercy.' He put the blade back in its sheath.

'It's better to keep things as rumors.' Hunk thought to himself.

The mercenary glanced at the window: the dawn... a deep silence and absolute clarity of perception, his favorite hour of the day. The color in the sky, right there in the middle mentally, he draws her face. He shook his head slightly and pushed the thought away.

"I'll kill you, Nikolai. You just wait and see."

A soft knock thumped at his door.

"What is it?" Hunk shook his head.

Vector came in shortly. His weapons and gear rattled as he moved.

"Sir, I need to tell you something..." Hunk frowned and waited for him to speak. "The girl, don't trust her. Back in the town, I saw her talk to those BSAA agents. I firmly believe that we eliminate her."

An awkward expression painted Hunk's face. Silently he signaled Vector to leave. Vector bowed slightly and left the room with the door closed.

Hunk knew her—the sibling of Chris Redfield. Ever since the incident in the Arklay Mountains, Chris has been listed as the most dangerous on the caution list for all Umbrella enforcers.

A part of him knew that something about her seemed familiar.

…

Raccoon City, 1998.

Hunk kept his back to the wall adjacent to a door, and he gently pushed it open. No sound, no movement from the other side. He stepped inside the door and moved quickly through the dimly lit hallway. Observations fed him the facts. The spread moved as fast as projected. Soon enough, drastic action will be taken to contain it. Hunk remained alert of his environment as he walked across the room. Bodies stacked over each other at one end of the room.

A lone body sat on an opposite wall. Blood caked the wall from the skull upward. Fragments of bones and teeth were scattered about on the hardwood floor. Hunk felt a tooth crack beneath his boot.

There he heard it, the sound of a girl struggling. He came closer to the stairs, and there she was, a redhead running up, her hands are moving uncontrollably over her head as she fought back at the crows that bothered her. Hunk lightly laughed at the sight. The girl waved at the birds in a feeble attempt to shoo the birds away. "This is war."

The girl mumbled to herself, and a crow attempted to peck at her.

This… this is just… Why? They're birds!

Hunk aimed his gun downward, and a loud bang followed. Having a clean shot of one of them, the girl fell to her knees. The other crows screeched at him, an abnormal sound from such animals, and they flow toward him angrily. He chuckled quietly and shot them out of the sky. The girl came close to the railing, watching the dead crows. Her eyes searched around.

"That's weird...what was, who?" The crimson survivor whispered, and then she continued in her path.

…

Who knew they'll meet again, but this time they'll be partners. Life is a bitch. The mercenary knew that all too well. Such a reminder felt like a stab in the back after everything they went through.

Hunk returned to his bed. He fell facedown and yawned. 'I didn't see Claire Redfield's name on that caution list…'

Claire opened her eyes, she could not see much at first, but it felt like she was resting on the grass. Slowly her vision adjusted. The sky was dark, like in the middle of the night. No stars were in sight. She pulled herself to a sitting position putting her weight on both of her hands.

'Where...am I?'

The sounds of the children's carefree laughter filled the place. She was in a narrow strip of land covered with sand and pebbles. Or it could be a narrow strip of land at the edge of the sea exposed at low tide.

Claire then saw twin boys run around. Happily, she could not see their faces, but they were brunettes. They threw sand at each other.

"How cute." The survivor whispered at the sight of such a beautiful innocence. "Was it all a nightmare?"

With a gasp, Claire woke up and stayed like that for a few minutes. She tried to make sense of what happened last night, but everything in her memory felt jumbled.

Claire immediately looked at her surroundings.

The room she was in had a drab and bare-bones look to it.

Everything looked worn out with a decent-looking bed, and she was curled in warm sheets. The room did not have a window.

Claire smiled to herself. Finally, the nightmare is over, and she is safe.

The survivor stepped out of bed and went for the door. Before she walks out, voices can be heard on the other side.

"It's over. I don't want them anymore."

"Are you sure about that?"

"The two of them are on board."

Slowly she turned the handle and opened the door, revealing a small living room.

"Well, look who's up?" A Caucasian man noticed her.

Just from first glance, he was fit.

Not to the point of being a meathead but enough for whatever he does for a living. He had a narrow nose, and underneath it for his face, it had stubbles all over his chin.

His eyebrows were kept well enough, so he practiced hygiene.

His hair was longer than most men, and Claire noticed a majority of it was combed to the side. His hair appeared to be a very dark brunette.

He was in a black and red uniform, unlike anyone she saw last night. Being able to see the helicopter pilot helmet in hand, she was able to deduce that Nighthawk's occupation. "Did you have a good sleep?"

'That's Nighthawk?!' Claire shouted in her mind.

"Yeah, sure. Where am I?" Claire asked immediately.

"Relax, you're in a safe house." He nodded at something. "The bathroom is over there."

Still feeling confused, she went in and wash up. The water was cold but not impossible to use. She even turned the other faucet, and the water was still out. She washed her face and her hands, removing some of the dirt she caught, but nothing will clean her clothes.

Once she walked out. "Well, Redfield, this is where your deal ends. You'll have a ride to take you to your people." Nighthawk stated.

Claire sighed and looked down at her hands. "Right, thank god." She looked back at him and smiled. "I'll send a check to you as I promised. Give me some time."

"You have one week to pay." He held a small paper for her to take. Claire nodded and took it. Nighthawk had a cup of coffee in hand and it steamed with perfection.

"What?" The pilot chuckled. "You think us mercenaries don't drink like normal people?"

A loud laugh escaped her lips. "Not at all," the survivor said happily. Thinking that seriously she'll miss this guy.

He took another sip from his cup and winked at her, "This is the part where I state some generic feel-good phrase. Sorry lady, not feeling it for today..."

Claire's eyes darted around the living room; she spotted the kitchen where apparent steam was coming out of it. There was another closed door nearby. The light was sneaking from beneath it.

"If you're looking for Hunk, forget it. He's sleeping." The pilot announced.

Claire raised an eyebrow. "What, I won't even get a goodbye? Wow." She shrugged and walked past him to the front door. Though she stopped midway and turned to look at him one last time.

"Well...goodbye." She whispered and went out, closing the door behind her.

A bright smile full of life graced her tired face as she went over to the car, once her hand touched the door. Two people rushed at her and took hold of her arms. One of them grabbed her tightly. "H…ey." Claire saw a fold go over her eyes.

Claire caught a glimpse of her attackers. One of them was Bertha, in ordinary people's clothing.

"Shut up, we'll take you back," Bertha said coldly.

Sllluuurrrpppp! Nighthawk moved the cup away from his lips. "Ah, damn good batch, this turned out."

Claire did not resist as heavily as she would because she leads to the car. She sat down with handcuffs on her wrists and had her arms behind her back. It was not the most comfortable method to sit in a car.

The survivor stayed there, listening to the car engine, recognizing the sound of dirt as they drove. It made her think they were not very far from the town, by the sound of the tires coming into contact with asphalt so soon.

Weird how Hunk's safe house would be close by like this.

After 5 minutes of silence, she heard the car stop. The door opened, and a strong arm pulled her out. Once the fold was removed, she found herself in a familiar sight. The two agents never said a word. Bertha removed the handcuffs and sat Claire down on a bench.

"Memory is good, ja? For your safety, it will be best if it forgets. Do not make my employer regret this." Bertha shook her head as she walked away. Claire watched her walk away as there wasn't a car close by. By the time Claire looked forward to standing up, Bertha was already no longer in her view.

Claire pushed the thoughts away, and she hurried on to the street, her heart hammering in her chest. Voices of people begin to fill the air with each second. Until the town of horror was once again filled with life, she saw people checking the damage with a police officer.

She was on the safe side.

A couple on the left were talking with a sad expression, looking down at the ground while another officer checked papers in his hands and whispered things to them. A group was doing some cleaning in the middle of the street while a truck came around holding food.

"Claire!" She heard a shout among them. Her eyes searched for a second until she saw Annie break her way through the crowd.

"Oh my god, Annie!" She ran to her friend.

The friends caught each other in the most sincere hug. "I was worried sick about you!" Annie cried.

"Please, I told you. A girl like me doesn't go down easily." Claire replied and pulled back to look at her, gently she wiped the tears from her face and wrapped her arm around hers.

"It's over. How about we talk about our next plan in our lives." She said, her voice fading in the crowd.

"Hell yeah, I was thinking about going to Washington."

"Let me guess, Chris' suggestion?"

"Yeah, it's good to be near him. To be honest, I'm paranoid now."

…

A soft knock on the door made him pull himself into a sitting postilion, still yearning for more sleep. His body felt like that of an old man. "James... come on. Our job is not really done."

"Make it fast, moron." The mercenary grumbled... bored out of his mind. Nighthawk opened the door and throw a file over to him. Hunk caught on his hands quickly and checked the first paper immediately.

"John Murphy is going to be there." Nighthawk said in a severe tone. The mention of the name alone had made Hunk feel his blood bombing on his veins. A wide menacing smile broke across his face. "Finally, he showed up," he said. "I knew he'd crawl back to Nikolai."

Nighthawk crossed his arms and smiled. "Tell me about it. This will feel so good. Finally, our own business."

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this. Sorry for any disappointments, I did have troubles finishing this.

Special thanks to my Beta-reader.