This one has been a long time coming. I started this story many years ago, under the title The S.T.A.R. And The Death, one of my first writing pieces. Over the years I have continued it on the side, coming back to it as I developed as a writer, never quite forgot it. Looking back at the way I wrote has been a bit embarrassing, but insightful, from where I started and how I am now. The positive feedback and many views the old story got over all that time has been a bit baffling... but maybe you all saw a diamond in the rough, that I've been gradually trying to polish behind the scenes. I believe I understand the characters and story much better now, and think I can do it all more justice than before. The wiki for the series has been invaluable, along with reviewing and playing the games, fitting parts of canon and doing my own thing with it, making additions and expansions on details. My love for Resident Evil, HUNK and Jill Valentine never died, got stronger over the years and more... seasoned. Along with my writing, I hope. It's time I set this old story right and did it's potential justice. This will be a major restructuring, but a necessary one. As I go along I will likely go back and edit my work in each chapter now and again, keep this going to a point where I'm satisfied. I'm not done the entire story yet, but close, then comes editing. But for now I wanted to offer a sample.

Well... I kept you waiting long enough. Ten years, really. Without further ado, let us start over again, shall we?

September 28th, 1998, 4:32 PM

Room 302, Gordian Apartments, Uptown, Raccoon City.

The heat of the water ran down over her face, through her shampoo lathered hair... and she heard only the downpour against the tub. The hum of the fan. Drowning out the moaning chorus beyond in the streets. Everywhere now. Nothing else existed in that moment... not what she had to do... must do. There was only her, and a world of warmth and comfort she knew could not last. An eye in the storm. Her water was safe from the contamination of the reservoir that affected much of the city. She had seen to that carefully. Faces returned to her... not the ones from her nightmares... but alive, and whole. She heard their voices... remembered the first time she'd met them... worked with them as a team. Been part of something that mattered. The friendships and journey she'd made. Improving her life a bit at a time, before it had all been snatched away. Finding her purpose.

She stayed in the shower until the last of the hot water from her apartment's water heater tank ran out. The cold shocked her senses back to the reality of her situation, and what awaited. The faces she imagined became bloodstained and horrific, rotting... their figures lurching towards her. Remembering not as they were, but as they had been the last time she'd seen them. She heard the gunshots of the past... the screams, human and inhuman screams. It figured those old ghosts would come chasing her down again. Replacing the good, welcome dreams and memories. Nothing good could last forever. A peaceful moment was just that... a moment. Fleeting. Reaching down she turned off the tap, and the downpour receded, leaving her standing soaking wet in the shower, dripping everywhere. Sliding back the door, she stepped into the misted over washroom, reaching for a towel to wrap herself in, and another for her hair.

"Looking real good, Jill..."

Former S.T.A.R.S. Officer Jill Valentine looked back at herself in the fogged mirror... distorted, but visible enough. She looked at her solemn, pale, grim face and couldn't remember the last time it hadn't been. Only twenty four... and she felt decades older inside. Her eyes seemed to reflect it. Something none of her makeup could cover. Finally she drew back from it, dried her hair with the towel and blow drier, combing it into a more orderly fashion. When she was done, she turned her attention to the counter, beside the sink. Taking the time to apply at least a little bit of the many makeup products cluttering the space in front of the mirror. Her clothes were lay out there close to the makeup, and casting aside the towel she changed into her undergarments. She would need to remain mobile, nothing they could grasp and tug at. A black miniskirt, blue tube top, and a white sweater fastened around her waist just in case she needed the warmth. Long, brown, sturdy leather combat boots, good for long and short distances... and for any kicking she would almost certainly need to do. She dressed in silence methodically, taking her time. When she had finished, the fog had retreated from the mirror, and she looked back at herself one more time... wishing she had been allowed to keep her uniform. It was probably in a warehouse somewhere, or more likely discarded in the trash.

She remembered the way Irons had stared at them contemptuously as they'd tried to explain what had happened in his office. The thought made her angry, even now. As it was, this outfit was the best she had. Nodding back at herself with grim satisfaction, she left the washroom, moving past the kitchen, down the hall and back out towards the muffled, inhuman moans... and towards her bedroom. Stepping inside, she flicked on the light, taking a moment to study the cluttered interior of it. Over to the nearby wall, where her investigation findings were plastered with a map of the city on a billboard that took up much of the wall section, and her nearby desk. Not as good as her desk at the station, but necessary. Her work area, lacking in office she'd been forced to improvise. Her eyes scanned across all the newspaper clippings, articles, photographs, files and documents she had collected. Too much to bring with her, and none of it important enough, unfortunately. She hadn't had enough time for her investigation, even as she had been getting close. She'd had to recover from the mansion, try to go back to a normal routine... then there were the nightmares, her firing... it all sort of kept building, one problem after another. When the outbreak started, her contacts had gradually dried up as well... reporters and journalists and witnesses she had been hunting for. Former Umbrella employees and current.

And then there had been the plainclothes men following her, wherever she went. Watching her from afar. It hadn't taken her long to notice... either she was cautious, or they wanted her to know they were on to her.

She didn't know if they had been Irons' men or Umbrella's... she supposed it didn't matter in the end. There was no difference between the two. As the outbreak had started though, Irons or whoever had lost all interest in having her followed. Had higher priorities than a washed up, jaded cop investigating the very thing already popping up around the city. Now an investigation was no longer necessary either... it was down in the streets and right outside her own apartment. She wished there had been more time... maybe there had been, and she'd just wasted it looking in the wrong direction, taking the wrong course of action. But she had been alone here with this investigations... no partner or partners to lean on and trade ideas with... as it had been before, with S.T.A.R.S. She was good... but she was not an entire team on her own. A team of different skill sets with something to bring to the table. She sighed under her breath and looked on. Looking back to her bed where the case awaited her. But not yet... first thing was first. She reached for the remote and turned the television on, standing before it and flicking through the channels.

The channels were either static, or playing the emergency broadcast signal. The low whine filling her bedroom, the ringing. She rose the remote and switched off the television. The last news reports she'd caught had been a couple days prior. Just after the battle on Main Street, when the barricades near Johnson National Bank had finally fallen. Since then, after that pandemonium... nothing. A ghost city, or close to one. Worse. Jaw tightening, she turned away from the television. She turned her attention to the bedside radio, going to it, flicking it on and scrolling through the stations. Again, mostly static from one channel to another. Or commercials being played on loops... advertising Umbrella products, or recorded warnings from the local government to leave Raccoon City or report to the Quarantine Zone. None of them were live... at least except for one. A man's insane mirth filled laughter broke in through the static of the radio station. Most of his words were babbling, incoherent... but she got the gist of it.

"IT'S OVER MAN! IT'S ALL OVER! WE'RE SCREWED!"

The man laughed again over the static, and just kept repeating himself, screaming louder and louder and laughing madly. Another swell of static made the crazed man's weeping, laughing voice distorted, cut out... she heard moans and screams over the radio, but they as well could have been coming from outside. Finally, she turned it off, as she had the television, before going over to the drawn blinds of the closest window. Peeking out through them and the glass. It was very nearly night, but the entire day so far had been cloudy and dark out in the streets... save the light posts, neon signs of the buildings and headlights of crashed and abandoned cars. It all illuminated the destruction in the street outside... although her particular street was mostly abandoned... comparatively... from where she was, she could see down to the distant Main Street. The swarm of rotting, bloodied figures tightly packed together amid the cars and buses and shambling out there. Shadows stirring all along the street. Smoking fires. Some of the monsters snarling and huddled over corpses, feasting. Infected people and canines... and worse, mutations crawling along a couple of the buildings.

She felt a wave of nausea just watching it... seeing her city as it was, and quickly shut the blinds again. Sighing under her breath. The poor bastard on the radio was right. It was over for Raccoon City. Likely there remained numerous pockets of resistance, a city of over a hundred thousand didn't just disappear... but not enough to effect anything. It was too late for that now. The U.B.C.S's disastrous incursion, the R.P.D.'s failed efforts to contain the situation, and the construction of the Quarantine Zone had signaled the end, now it was here. With her trapped right in the middle of it. Looking back down to the bed, to the case... she settled upon her chosen course of action.

Sitting on the bed, crossing her legs, she popped open the locks on the case, looking inside, as the light washed over the blue steel of the weapon within. She plucked the modified Beretta from within and rose it, looking over the thing of beauty. Popping out the clip, she checked it, before sliding it back within and cocking the Samurai Edge. She had lost her uniform and badge, it was true... but this she hadn't been able to part with. The Kendo brothers had made it specifically for her, not for the department. She had not been about to let it go to waste, and vowed never to remain defenseless again, unarmed... not after the Arklay Mountains. She'd turned in a normal Beretta with her badge, left and had never looked back. She'd thought someone would come looking for her about it, but the Chief had had enough problems on his plate to handle already, in the days leading up to the outbreak. Maybe that was why his thugs had kept their distance all that time watching her, knowing she was packing heat. But... at least it wasn't the only useful item she'd made off with in the past days. She was no looter... anything she had taken was in the name of restoring order to the city, and self defense. And nobody had been in any position to argue with her, as the dead walked the street.

Her olive green, military grade side packs for more room and ammunition, her pouches and holster. Reaching for it, she took the time to fasten them around her, lowering the shoulder straps, thigh straps, waist straps and belt, fastening them all into place. Checking the pouches for her spare clips... and one containing her small diary, closing the pouches up safely. Tucking her Samurai Edge into the holster for a moment. She looked over to the cylindrical object in the case that she'd scavenged off a fallen Umbrella mercenary the last time she'd gone out, picking up the hand grenade and looking it over, before tucking it into her belt. The apartment building was infested... if either exit was swarmed, she would need to make a new one. Assuming she made it outside and to the alley... the warehouse beyond... she would need to make her way through the infested city and to Downtown. Back to the R.P.D... if she found any survivors on the way, good, she would take them with her. She could use the help... doubted she could do all this alone.

The precinct had the best chance of being secure... and failing that, she could find more weapons there, and come up with a new plan of action. Some of her things and the others things were still at the old S.T.A.R.S. office. She should have left the city, long ago... as the others had... but she had insisted upon staying, hadn't she? Hoping to find something, anything on Umbrella before she left. She glanced over to her mad collage of evidence gathering, cluttering the wall and desk. She'd been so close, but too far. And then there had been trying and failing for days now to save citizens, venturing out into the streets and trying to get them to safety. To stem the tide of the infected, pitch in. Trying to help... to make a difference. To fight for her home. There had been too many of them... and chaos and panic among survivors. All of it had been for nothing. She remembered all the faces she had failed. It was too late to go back... too late for regrets. Even as she was filled with them. All she could do was go forward.

Or at least try to.

She turned her attention one more time to the case, retrieved her watch and secured it to her wrist, before picking up the necklace within holding her dog tags, putting it on as well. Finally... she was as ready now as she would ever be. Rising from the bed, Jill took one last look around the bedroom, silently saying goodbye to her home, hand tightening on the grip of the Samurai Edge and drawing it from the holster. She forced herself to turn and go back out the door into the hall, making her way down it past the kitchen, glancing at it's cluttered interior for a moment, the messy piled up dishes in the sink and table, take out boxes and leftovers. She'd made a pigsty of everything in the weeks leading up to this moment, so lost in her investigation she'd forgotten some of the basics. If there was any silver lining to this disaster, she wouldn't have to worry about that anymore... all she needed to focus on was her survival skills, military training and duty as a cop. Whether she wore a badge or not. She continued on down towards the front door of the apartment. Reaching it, she stood on tip toes and looked carefully through the peephole to the wall on the other side of the corridor. She saw no figures stirring beyond it... and remained there a minute or so to be sure. Finally, she began to draw back all the locks, chains and deadbolts she'd had installed on the door. Once she had done so to all but the last lock, she checked through the peephole again. Still nothing stirred... and finally she unlocked and opened the door slowly.

Raising the Samurai Edge in both hands, drawing a low breath, she peeked carefully around the right hand corner of the door, getting the view of the distant, shambling tenants on that side of it... her rotting neighbors. Judging them at a safe distance, she looked down to the left towards the rear stairs of the apartment building. What she saw down there made her heart sink in her chest. Tightly packed, shambling tenants infesting the back end of the building and it's stairwell... undoubtedly infesting the alley. Evidently, they'd had the same idea as her. There was no room to maneuver her way out the back. She would have to take the front door. Fortunately, the dead end road in front of the apartment building was cluttered and barricaded... it was more difficult for the zombies to maneuver out there... though it meant being more exposed to them.

Sighing heavily, she made her decision at once. Stepping out into apartment hallway, raising the Beretta she broke into a sprint at once. She heard the living dead behind her at the back end of the building, sensing her... their chorus of moans growing louder. She didn't dare look back yet, staying focused on those at the far end of the third floor, down where the stairwell was located. She moved as quickly as she could, before the tenets on that end even sensed her... and she ran right past them. As she did, she heard their moans grow louder in the chorus, giving pursuit after her down the steps to the first floor. She heard them tripping and falling down the steps, among each other, slowing themselves down... somehow, it made her smile faintly. Reaching the bottom of the stairs she turned down towards the far end of the first floor.

There they were, right at the end of it. Huddled in front of the door, the mail boxes of the tenants and the front office of the landlord. When she was a decent distance from them, she looked backwards to the shambling monsters far behind her, still descending the stairs. They were so cramped together it slowed them even further, but they were inexorable, hungry for her... seeing her with dead eyes. Heart racing, fear coiling inside her like a snake, she forced her hand not to shake as it withdrew the hand grenade from her belt, looking straight ahead to the front doors, to the handful of creatures there who had sensed her as well by now. She saw the recognition on their torn, bloodied faces... not of who she was, but of what she was to them now. She ran down towards them, and when she was about halfway down the floor towards the main doors, she did what needed to be done. Without hesitating a moment longer, she pulled the pin with her teeth, drew the device back over her shoulder and she threw it down the way towards them with all she had. It struck the ground and rolled underneath their feet and towards the front door... and readying herself, raising her sidearm again, the device detonated in a flash.

A near deafening boom echoed through the halls of the apartment building, making her wince.

The front of the apartment's entrance was blown outward into the street, and those zombies not blown to fiery pieces were engulfed in flames. The moment it blew up... feeling the horde behind her drawing closer, reaching the bottom of the stairs, she spat out the pin and broke into a run again, through the flames and towards the entrance, holding her breath against the smoke. She dodged the clumsy grasps of a couple of the familiar former tenants, and reaching the front door jumped into the air over one of the zombies that lie on the front steps aflame. She tucked and rolled out on to the road where she landed next to a ruined car, crouched low. The heat of the fire and coldness of the air clashed and settled over her form as she rose smoothly to her feet. The fires burned high around her, gradually spreading upon the entrance of the apartment building, a section behind her on the road, and the wreckage of a couple of the cars. Shadows and light dancing all along the dead end street, glinting off the dark metal railings of the balconies of the apartment overhead, and one of the opposite buildings.

The dead end street was full of debris, broken metal... and burning limbs... her face twisting partially at the smell she was well acquainted to. She'd underestimated the explosive power of the grenade. It must have been high ordnance grade... but it had done it's job, and she had managed not to blow herself up. For the moment. She looked back to a blue steel police barricade at the east end of the dead end road, right behind her... a number of the living dead were trapped behind it, trying in vein to break through and reach her. She was safe, from that side, at least... back inside the apartment building the remaining former tenants had reached the fire consumed entrance and mail slots, the destroyed office. When they did, the flames overtook a number of them, lighting up their clothes... but even on fire the creatures seemed to see only her. Their next meal. She didn't waste ammunition on them or the ones trapped behind the barricade... it would prove a precious resource in the time to come. As it had at the mansion and during the outbreak.

Let the bastards burn. Like they burned everything she'd loved. Her hopes and dreams. Her life and her home. She silently said farewell to all of it. Her goodbyes.

Jill looked ahead sharply instead. A single rotting zombie stood out on the path in front of her, close to a crashed red car, the third in a line of three vehicles occupying much of the road, and a dumpster cutting off the opening of the apartment's road. Too little maneuvering space to avoid the creature. Beyond the dumpster, she could see the closed metal door on the opposite side of the road. A door to one of the alleys connected to the warehouse beyond. The illumination of the streetlights shined down on it at the intersection between the boutique and market like a beacon, beckoning to her. Even as the rotting face of the creature slowly, silently turned towards her, saliva and blood flowing from between it's teeth. It rose it's arms out towards her and moved with a familiar, slow gait. Her heart continued beating rapidly in her chest... but with her fear came a determination. After all she'd survived to this point... she would not fail the moment she stepped outside her own apartment, to one monster.

Starting forward towards the zombie, Beretta rising and aiming at it's head, Jill squeezed the trigger without hesitation and began her last escape.

September 28th, 1998, 4:32 PM

Northern Entrance, Sewage Treatment Plant, Downtown, Raccoon City

He dreamt an old dream... of the day she had chosen him. Had told him he was special. Gave him a future... and identity. Made him more than he was. More than he had been. Someone people whispered about, more and more after each mission. Each objective completed. Someone feared, if not respected. The dreams of her... of those times, were always vivid. Life-like. Even after all the years since... and what had happened in them. If only he had known what he was getting into at the time. He would have cherished those times more than he already had. Not knowing the good times were fleeting... steadily devoured and consumed by a legend. His own. His rapidly more complicated world within Umbrella. But even now, despite it all... what had happened, what he would have to go back to... the dream was beautiful... as was she, but it never lasted. Nothing good ever did. All of it began to fade a bit at a time... the idyllic illusion shattered, replaced with the world he knew best. Screams... gunfire... racing of boots... inhuman sounds and moans... and fear. Blood. The banging of metal. The sensation of floating... weightlessness, as light and reality steadily returned, crashing down upon him amid a sea of images. A sea of memory.

And a sound of a steady patter of water droplets.

U.S.S. Special Agent HUNK's eyes slowly opened beneath the gas mask's soaked lenses, to find himself laying slumped against a concrete wall. Helmeted head tilted back, staring up at a ceiling some ways above. To one of several small pipes in the wall and ceiling, from which water was flowing... showering down on him in a constant stream. Above, there was also a slightly swinging light shining down, faintly dimmed by the lenses. He felt his muffled breaths through the mask... and a warmth through his entire body... and wetness at his feet. Gathering himself, he looked down, to find himself sitting in dirty, garbage strewn sewage water that rose up to his midsection where he sat. Laying on his back against a wall, in the middle of the sewer.

The stiffness of his joints returned as he jolted back upright, climbing to his feet and instinctively snapping up the TMP from his side, aiming the laser sight down the far end of the sewer tunnel. Scanning for hostiles. He was hit by an immediate wave of vertigo that nearly made him fall over into the water. A shrill ringing in his ears that echoed through the entire tunnel. He dug his boots into the ground beneath the water, and saw double of everything, his weapon and phantom weapon swaying somewhere in front of him, a red laser upon each. He blinked his eyes repeatedly, willing the double vision away as best he could... and very gradually it began to improve, as the world stopped spinning... and his surroundings came back.

Point K-12, he remembered. Free of hostiles. For the time being.

There were two separate directions, one straight ahead further down the tunnel... the filtering machine was open, revealing more tunnel and a drop off point beyond it, the dirty water flowing through it and down into the drop off. The other way was one off to the right. A cement platform with an illuminated stairwell leading to the door of a sewer maintenance room with a septic tank on the floor above. He remained that way for a time, sweeping the area ahead... but nothing lurched or splashed towards him... there were no moans either... no sounds, save the running of water down the tunnel and behind him. He was alone. Finally, breathing a little easier, he lowered the TMP... but remained on his guard. Took the time to examine it and his other primary and secondary weapons. The MP5, the shotgun and Matilda. His sheathed combat knife.

They hadn't been submerged, or submerged for long at least, or were tucked away. And even if they had been, they had been modified and reinforced well, top of the line... would have had to be submerged for much longer. None of the water had managed to get into his sealed backpack, belt, or bodysuit and armor. Just a couple of his pouches he'd left open... along with his boots. He poured the water from both pouches, keeping the objects within from falling out, then closed them up. He checked his ammunition and equipment... running down every item in his mind. He remembered recovering a fair amount of spare magazines and other supplies from the NEST... from the bodies of his fallen men, and the security guards that had been down there. He checked it again a second time to be sure.

Everything was where it should be.

Finally, his head rose, back over to where he had been lying beside. To his right a great faded red containment door with a hatch in the sewer wall... the insignia of XD-R painted in bold white stamped upon it... and a 1 higher still on a yellow with black stripes warning section. The northern sewer entrance... leading beyond closer towards the NEST. He remembered turning the wheel with all he had, activating the locks as the metal on the opposite side had been banged against, pounded. Some of the thick reinforced steel bent a bit inwardly, but the one that had done it had not been able to break through and get to him. Had been frustrated and discouraged, stomping off while roaring. He must have blacked out briefly, after sealing the containment hatch behind him.

The agent hadn't slept in... he couldn't remember when the last time had been. He felt the exhaustion already returning... and had to will it to stay at bay. It was a wonder he'd managed to regain consciousness. However long he had been out, it couldn't have been much. The... thing that had been Birkin had given up pursuing him... and had managed to escape the NEST, but not into the exterior of the sewers... at least not in this direction. There were other entrances though... for him, and the other infected and mutations to escape. The team had infiltrated through here... what seemed years ago. He looked to his left and backwards, spotting a section of grating in the wall where the water flowed from... small and difficult to wedge through... cramped, but possible... for a child, at least. Most of the infected would not have been able to get through it.

He stood there with the sewage water risen close to his hip, beneath the light overhead... his head was still spinning slightly... everything was coming back a bit at a time. As his consciousness had. Remembering himself. And with his memory, his duty returned. One he had put off for too long. He rose his free hand and activated the radio connected to the mask and helmet. He nearly activated the comm channel to U.S.S. Command... but made a different choice, switching frequencies. They could wait, his extraction couldn't. The mission wasn't over yet. It's completion was all that mattered. His muffled voice speaking into the comm channel, through the mask and reaching the man on the other end.

"This is HUNK. I've reached Point K-12. I'm all that is left of Alpha Team. I'm en route to the rendezvous point."

"There you are. Finally. Once again only you survive, Mr Death.", The grizzled, familiar voice on the other end picked up almost at once. He released a low, bitter, yet oddly relived chuckle. It was good to hear the other man's voice again, it brought more semblance of order and familiarity to the insanity of the past days. "No keeping down the Grim Reaper. What the hell happened down there, with Birkin? We've been trying to reach you for ages. I heard there was a struggle, before you all started dropping out of contact... thought that GHOST shot him dead."

"So did I. We were intercepted on the way out by a powerful mutation that looked like him. He must have survived long enough to inject himself with a sample of the G-Virus and came back to life. Or something vaguely resembling life."

"I see... that's unfortunate. What happened to the other containers?"

"Containers of the G and T-Viruses were destroyed in the fight, contaminated the NEST... B.O.W's and experiments were released by Birkin as well, spread the T-Virus further. Scientists and security were infected down there. I don't see any infected at my position yet, but it likely escaped into the greater sewer system by now. Inform the company it will need to be contained, before it reaches the surface."

"You have been down there too long, haven't you? Eight days. You're way out of the loop.", NIGHTHAWK's grim voice returned darkly... and it was all HUNK had to hear to know his job had become considerably more complicated than it had already been. His jaw tightened within the mask, and he had some idea of what was in store for him. "The surface is worse than things down there. You'll see soon enough. Containment is already in process. Joint operation. United States Military and Umbrella. Four platoons of U.B.C.S. mercs were even sent into the city while you were down there. Ended about as well as you'd expect. Fill you in more later, right now you focus on getting the hell out of there. Do you still have a sample of the G-Virus?"

How had he forgotten it? The center of it all. The reason he was in this mess now. Somehow, in everything that had happened over the past days, he had almost forgot what it had all been for. HUNK shook his head, trying to recover more of himself, and focus. Reaching down instinctively into the appropriate pouch, he opened it and withdrew the titanium encased sample... looking at the purple contents of the clear parts of the container. The Golgotha Virus looked harmless safely within the container... but he had seen another truth first hand. He nodded in satisfaction at the sight of it.

"Affirmative. Holding it right now. After the incident, I doubled back to the NEST. Fought my way through it. Managed to locate and recover a leftover sample from the labs and get out again. What took me all this time. It was slow going, with the state and size of NEST. Turned off the communication channel during those days until I had a success to report."

"Ran the gauntlet, did you? My sympathies. At least it wasn't all for nothing. Get moving, and don't be late. Later than you are. Your countess, doctor, even the old man have been breathing down my neck for updates on your status. Command most of all. This should get them all off my back awhile."

"Better you than me."

"They'll be your problem again soon enough. Can you activate your helmet camera? It went offline earlier. See if you can patch it through to my chopper again. Command will want it reactivated, every second of Operation: NESTWRECKER recorded."

"Affirmative. I'll try."

He pressed the activation button built into his mask's camera...giving it a bit of time. Instead of the familiar icons returning, it became distorted, flickering... and the recording signal refused to activate. He shut it off again with a low, annoyed sound, and the flickering and static went away. Vision returning to normal. Some of the best camera tech available to Umbrella, near unrivaled, and it was worthless now. It could have been broken at any point in the operation... he could not narrow down when it might have been. It hadn't been standard procedure to record their missions, mostly only for the ones Lord Spencer was personally invested in. It hadn't been much of a surprise this one would be, come Birkin's betrayal. Word was that Lord Spencer had taken it especially personally. He knew full well what happened when that was the case, by now. He switched over to his comm channel instead, speaking into it again.

"Negative, NIGHTHAWK... it must have sustained damage on my way out. I was in a hurry."

"Lord Spencer might be disappointed to hear it."

"It's fine. Operation's nearly complete. Anything missing will be in my report."

"Fair enough. QUARTERMASTER is going to throw a fit though. You know how expensive that gear is?"

"He can salvage the existing footage from the tape when I get back. Tell the old man to make them less fragile next time. Back to the drawing board."

"Tell him yourself when you get back. I'd like to see the look on his face when you do. I should have clearance to take off from the Leviathan soon. Get your ass up to the rooftop of the R.P.D. and be ready by the time I get there. Light a signal flare when I'm in visual range. We'll be in touch. Double time it to the finish line, Grim Reaper. You know the drill."

"Understood. I'll see it through."

"As usual. NIGHTHAWK over and out."

The comm channel went dead all at once... and his surroundings returned. The water at his boots had settled down... and in the lights around the sewer he caught sight of his reflection in the murky depths. Standing still as a statue, the sample gripped in his glove. The red of the lenses burned, glinting in the light back at him. TMP down at his side. Slowly, he lowered the sample back into it's pouch, sealing it up safely out of view. Slowly, his gaze rose over the lightly flowing water, down to the far end of the tunnel. He moved forward at last, away from the containment door... but paused next to the concrete platform with the stairway up to the sewer maintenance room.

He remembered the expansive maps he had studied. From Point K-12 he could continue forward, down the tunnel beyond the filtration machine, the drop off point of the fresh water... or he could ascend the stairs to the floor above. Either way, both paths would take him where he needed to go... out of the sewer system and to the Raccoon Police Department above it. The only question was the safer route. Something he couldn't know with the limited intel he now had. In the end... there probably wasn't a safer route, if NIGHTHAWK's warning had been an indicator. Raccoon City was infested... by infected, mutations, B.O.W's... and probably worse than any of the three, for all he knew. Still... the surface offered more of a chance than he had down here at ground zero of the outbreak. He had to put as much distance between the NEST and himself as possible. He looked backwards to the battered containment door again... jaw tightening within the mask. Hopefully, he had seen the last of Birkin. If any of the other agents had survived in the NEST... after the initial battle... it was likely they were all dead by now. Hadn't been able to find one of the other ways out. It had been days since the last one he'd seen alive. Once more, it was just him... the weight of the G-Virus on his shoulders... and the company's stringent demands.

His natural environment at this point, really.

Looking back between the two pathways of escape once more... HUNK turned on the flashlight of his TMP. The beam of light, along with the red of the laser sight cut over the murky water, glancing upon it and other surfaces of the sewer. Nodding, he made his decision, chose a route and started forward through the dirty water. His movements rousing the first of the enemy that lie in waiting for him. Ahead, something stirred beneath the surface of the murky water... a humanoid figure rose up from the garbage, covered in it... wearing a soaked, stained sewer maintenance worker uniform. And quite dead, of course, unblinking eyes glazed over, face pallid, sickly and rotting, turning in the direction of his swift movements. The moment it spotted him, the infected former workman released the usual ravenous moan, and began to lurch slowly through the sewer water down towards him, arms rising and stretching out in front of it. Seeking sustenance that it would never have. There was only one response to the infected, the one that came most naturally to the agent when it came to any threat in his way. In the way of the mission. The one she had taught him all those years ago.

The red laser sight fell upon the center of it's rotting head... and without hesitation HUNK squeezed the trigger a single time, commencing with his extraction.