Crowding footsteps stampeded through the center of the town, they were rushed and misplaced. Hunk and Gong's altering legs came to the sight of the peaking church, its steeple sharp and waxed to a point, but dully and lazily dressed with a rusted cross, the octagon designing stained glass came grimy with a un-swept meadows of aging dirt. It hailed in a somberness of isolation, a pinnacle of belief and power.

The tipping corner of the church came wide with a shifting and budging mass as a mossy suit of gray and green slipped over it.

"What's happening? You said that you found the location of subject two." Shiro worded through his breathless lips.

"We met up with one of the locals that was still alive, he told us that he witnessed Rodriquez getting killed by the BOW. He said that he later saw Rodriquez walking around like nothing happened. It seems that the BOW has the capability of mimicking people." Coupling tones mixed from Gong's stance as he strutted his legs to a stop.

"Rodriquez is the Bow then. Or the BOW is just borrowing Rodriquez's form." James lumped the phase in the air as his body tensed for the awaiting fight.

"What about Ed? He was one that was supposed to watch Rodriquez. That means that he can be in danger and not even know it. We have to get to him now." Ramping waves of adrenaline stung through Shiro's veins as his jaws vented.

A score of eyes scraped against the shiftless front of the church, a boarder of trudging orange light framed from the open door. A palm of spreading fingers came against the solid oak wood door giving push to its suited weight. The church's section exposed widely with its darken brownish green formation. Nothing more than the emphasize of center of burning candles came out to greet them.

"They're not in here." James spoke as he walked through the left side of the benches.

'It seems that Hunk's curse starts with Ed. I wonder who the next one will be?" James exclaimed with a solid grin across his face.

'Spread out and search the place." It was a simple command that came from Hunk's mouth as he breathed tightly through his mask.

They dispersed like animals that had been swooshed from their nests. Hunk's itchy fingers tapped against the heavy plastic handle of his M800Cougar G handgun, it was the only thing that he trusted now. His muscles were heaved with unpleasant restraints and his mind was bogged with weariness and fatigue, he wasn't even concerned with leading his team, he just wanted to complete his mission by himself to save complications.

The tender flame of the candles bowed against the sureness of the wind. Hunk thumbed the hammer of his handgun, clicking in the direction of the changing flames. The air capped with a similar snapping noise, but it didn't resound from Hunk's gun. An axel of arms stumbled in the lurking shadows with unseen sound. Hunk's head came around to the concealed darkness that was in the steeple's peak. A sting of infrared laid on his weary eyes as they blinked uncertainly into the flaring mass that measured out from the flat surface of the wall. Noticeable appearances could be made from the gathering of color that only appeared as a weary blur of crimson, a figure of arms and legs, a jumble of webbing flesh. Even though the clutter of legs and arms, Hunk could perceive something familiar, something that he knew. It came detached from the wobbly collection of flesh, it wasn't soft, but hard and firm, skinny and slender, its color was pooled in a black, a lean banana shaped jutted from underneath it. A clambering metallic ping chambered from the object. The sound came like a common memory, it was something Hunk held and cared for like a child, an MP-5 Sub Machinegun.

A salivation of narrowing, compressed steel drummed from the barrel of the fresh machine gun, biting hard into the planks of elderly wood, snapping excessive holes through it.

"Get down." The simple command exhausted from Hunk's mouth as fast it was processed into his mind. Even his waning form came down under the slim shelter of one of the benches, pelting scatters of sharpened wood jacketed against Hunk as he took up a aiming position to return fire. A blunt nose of the handgun perched against the edge of the rigid wood of the back of the seat. A clouding blast of crackling fire clapped from the housing of the gun as several rounds drained from its frame. Indicating swirls of smacking moisture and fluid sounded the bullets finishing mark, slipping into a zone of flesh and muscle.

The clutter of plunging rounds came to an even halt, as a dip of globing dark cherry blood seeped on the ground. Hunk bucked with another sequence of pumping shots, wondering over the scrambling form. The conniving scheme of multi-colored stain glass splintered into a group of sharpening slivers as they pierced apart. The creature fled in the freedom of the air, crumbling to the ground smoothly on its balanced and muscle wrapped legs.

"After it!" Gong clambered from under the shelter of faltering boards.

The run of thick boots came to finishing stop in front of the church, most of their feet scooping in the swell of broken glass. The Special Forces Members stood still, their eyes were the first to stop, caught against the unbelievable image that they saw. It wore the same midnight black combat boots that they carried; expect that there was four of them, adorning each one of the creature's hidden feet. Its four legs were spaced like a spiders, they were long and thick, bending at the knees for extra support, dressed with the same dark gray fatigues of the Special Forces. The BOW's waist was twisted with the cover of a gray and dark green as its chest was decorated with a shapely Kevlar vest. Lengthy and stout arms placed from its shoulders, each hand laid in a pair of black gloves. Hoisting from its round shoulder blades, a branching second pair of arms fingered above the original. The darkness crept against the sketch of what should be a face, but two round black extensions horned from what would be a mouth, one that protruded from the center and one that skirted to the left, they were held on to by a hard plastic that molded into a smooth surface that held no features, just smooth shells. Bold pieces of flared crimson light tunneled from the thick glassy goggles that decorated the chemical gas mask, they seemed dimmed and to be powered by their own light. A shelling shady green covered over the top of the mysterious form's head. It was a stretched and pulled mass that once was Rodriquez and Ed, both of their bodies shelling into one to showcase the re-emergence of Dr.Cameron.

"What is it…?" It was like a rock falling off the side of a cliff as Shiro spoke.

"It looks like it has copied our form, maybe it is trying to mimic us." Gong responded.

"What ever it is it's dead!" Shiro sleeked it out just as fast as the thrusting rounds from his MP-5 came.

Packets of blood thumped from the grotesque shadow that once was the beautifully Dr. Jillian Cameron. She squealed against the racket of bullets, her image being torn by the slag of lead. A tempest of rushing muscle bonded from her legs as she darted towards him like a streaking blur. The ground stomped with her crashing feet, selecting a desired speed. Walking like a stone, Hunk came against her hurtling stampede. He took an even step forward, gripping his balance, before his arm slung a twirling hand grenade that tumbled and bounced against the ground in front of Dr.Cameron.

A shove of bursting shrapnel skinned through the air as the grenade exploded under Cameron's surprise. The sight was showered with illumination and screening vision as inflatable flames blossomed over the creature's height. A dancing twirl of misted smoke awoke off the ground, but its haze was all that was left, there was no trace of the Doctor.

"It's gone. How the hell can something like that just vanish?" James belted loudly.

"It didn't." Hunk countered calmly, already knowing what had happened.

In the film of actions that had occurred, something was left behind. Lumped in a swamping flesh, a ragged arm had been severed from the elbow down, the end knifed jaggedly in a dark mix of red and black. The peach toned fingers seemed almost human; there was even a fine line of dirt under its fingernails. It could pass as one of Hunk's arms without a doubt. It had no mark of infection, nothing rotting, everything was concealed and held up normal. It could be the clue behind the reason; Umbrella wanted this creature so badly.

"We need it alive or the mission is a failure. We follow it. " It was like a wolf kissing a baby's cheek, the only tone that Hunk ever had.

The hurtling ground rippled with bitterness and a harden core as the unit stepped outside of the center of town and into the neighboring houses that reside next to it. It was just a swamp of about seven houses, not even laid in a certain pattern. The houses were skinned with the same wood that was used for the church and general store, making the age of them present. They were lived in, but simply, no garages, no porches, the grass was worn thin, the dirt tumbling over the top of most it.

"It seems the poor bastard weren't prepared for what hit them." James's mouth searched over as his eyes came coupled against a dog that laid bitter in an open yard, its fur and flesh sheared viciously over his face and shoulder, enough to expose the bluntness of empty bone.

The wobble of unstable hinges fluttered in a kiss of blowing wind as an unlatched door of the house fluctuated. Yielding knuckles, bruised and seeped with blood, tipped against the edge of the wooden door. Its resemblance held to a bare chest, frail with only a stretch of tight skin tapering over its bones, its legs were geared over with an obvious pair of brown slacks.

"This one is mine." James cooked from his maw, a smearing smirk happening under the fade of his mask.

A babble of murky or rusted orange and red streamed from the Flame Thrower's muzzle, latching on to the creature's slinky turns of flesh. The slipping flames burrowed underneath the withered rotten skin, filling the bones with smoke as the creature wobbled with unhinged movements, unable to comprehend what was happening to its body. A constructing boot palmed against the zombie's burning chest, rumbling its weight with a new recourse of movement as James snapped his leg with a kick. Turning shards of glass and wood came into the voi9d as the zombie spilled backwards from the window, its movement lulled to the simply flicker of the flames that disposed of its body.

"Damn Rouges. I can complete this goddamn mission myself." James ran through the distance, only leaving behind his tone.

"James, wait!" Gong's feet dashingly hovered over the ground as he skirted after James leaving stance.

Everything was lost in the blur of stirring vision as Hunk's eyes failed to focus promptly. He was hoping that they could complete the mission without his help. He was always the one that the team depended on, but this time he was depending on them. The thought of this being his last mission were bonding together to form his oncoming death.

"You ok? You don't seem the same. I know that you just got back from retrieving the G-Virus in Raccoon City, which is an almost impossible endeavor to be done, but could only be done by the best. I think that we can complete this mission without you." Shiro blanketed Hunk with respect and pity, he felt that it was needed to sooth his leader's degrading form.

"I'll be fine after we complete this mission." Hunk responded.

The air seamed with jetting flames of roosting fuel as they increased from the drum of James' flame-Thrower. Like liquid fire, it crept against Dr. Cameron's clothed skin, igniting a blaze of burning flesh over the entirety of her body. Her fleshy screams seared by the tongue of heat as her precious cells were lost to the primitive structure of fire. She had to rid herself of the devouring blaze, before her cells were lost, the only thing that she had left.

The weeping cold stone bridge that they stood on came buckled with a rush of heat as Dr.Cameron stumbled into the blur of pain.

'That's right. I'm the only one that is going to complete this mission. I'll avenge all those that Hunk has killed." James' mouth burned with spew of hatred and heat as he continued another stream of gushing runny flames.

The stone bridge pinged with rolling metal as a vaulting round dark olive case reeled over the flat shingles.

"James, get down!" Gong blurted as his arm rotated back into position from the tossing grenade.

"Oh, shit." It exclaimed from James' lips as the jet of erupting flames was stopped as his body sniveled against the ground.

The muscle of compacted energy and burst detonated from the latent grenade, swirling from under Dr.Cameron's trucking legs. Like a coiling spring, Dr. Cameron's massing body was jumped over the ledge of the stony bridge, plunging against the scuttling brook that hosed underneath the overpass. A mild hush came over the scenery, as a steaming hiss clogged the winds.

"I could have done it myself! I told you before that I won't work with a murder. I'll kill myself on my own time." James poled his body over the ledge of the bridge, stroking into the hasting tap of water.

A lofty silhouette of something massive scored under the night fallen horizon. Trails of hazing smoke peeling away a stalking invisible visitor. Amidst the sputter and hiss of crackling embers that still clung to a charred body, a sleeking crawl scraped through the wetting dirt. Dr.Cameron swayed her ravaged body through the sampling dirt, her once beauty being deformed by the horrors of fire, her torso open wide without the latch of legs to keep it shut. Unwrapping coils of lengthy pinkish gray intestine grimed with specks of dirt and leaves as they lurched through them.

"I will once emerge again. Umbrella…Umbrella will never gain my data."

The stifle of a pair of sniffing dogs wondered to Dr.Cameron's presence. Their bodies slipped with sweaty blood and putrid flesh that was easily rubbed off. A slinking dangle of bundled nerves hung on to the groping fetch of an eyeball that teared against the dog's cheek as it walked. Once again he soaked in the air for a scent, for information to what came before it.

Dr.Cameron slept with a smile as a tonguing leathery rope weaved from the solid cone of the gas mask, snarling against the dog's hesitating, faltering leg. Once again Dr. Cameron would have reemerge.