[Guess I’ll just… get out of everyone’s hair now…]
[By the way the girl in the photo was his daughter XD She has a backstory, too. I made it a long time ago with much revision.]
The Commander sat alone in one of the old Umbrella facilities, one of the alarms went off and the man sat in his chair, awaiting his inevitable doom. His thought writhed with a mixture of a boiling rage, and a sea of sorrow. His hand kept curling, but not completely into a fist. In all honesty, he was surprised it took this long for the military men to get here. After the military went through here and cleaned all they deemed as ‘terrorist threats’, the FBI would surely search every document in the area, be it with or without a warrant. These things weren’t in the news. The U.S. had a knack for being able to not make themselves look bad somehow, no matter how much information the media got out.
He pulled out his wallet. The one thing he had on him that carried his identity. What money he had left. His Umbrella ID. His license. He didn’t care about all of that, though. He dug past all of the now worthless documents and got to the one thing he thought mattered most. His hand clung onto the object. A photograph. He looked at it. Caressed it. Sure enough, of all the men to come and see him, HUNK entered. While the rest of the building was being flashbanged and handcuffed, the Commander figured HUNK would be the one that would resist it all. “Sir.” He said, a single doubt not even lingering in his voice. He was always the soldier they needed. Too bad they didn’t have a legal team like him, right?
“HUNK.” The Commander sounded a little out of it. He seemed distracted. “They’ll be here soon, sir. Should we evacuate?” HUNK asked the Commander. The Commander put his hand that wasn’t gripping the picture up in a dismissive way. “No, HUNK. You may leave but… I will give them what they want. They expect a fight? They are sorely mistaken. I will not give them the pleasure of my information. All they will have found is an old, dead, battle-worn man.” He put his hand back down in the middle of the conversation.
This slightly confused the U.S.S. Alpha Leader. “Dead, sir?” The Commander didn’t answer. He was silent. “Bring me the contents in that drawer.” He put down the picture for a second to point at a desk drawer across the room. HUNK slowly walked over and opened the drawer. There he found a handgun with one clip to the side. He instinctively loaded it, the weapon reflecting in his red lenses. HUNK wasn’t stupid. He pieced together what was happening. “Permission to speak freely, sir?” HUNK knew the situation could be different. He disagreed with this whole ordeal. “That was an order, agent.” The old Commander said sternly, gripping the picture again.
HUNK handed him the loaded pistol, a disapproving look in his eye, though the Commander did not care nor see it. HUNK looked over his shoulder just a bit, making out a young woman in the picture. She looked a bit too young to be his wife, though he didn’t really care about his personal life. He wasn’t trained to care. He was a professional. The picture in his left hand and the pistol in the right, the Commander looked down at the two on the desk he was sitting in front of. “Dismissed, Agent HUNK.” The Commander murmured in a low, groggy tone. HUNK nodded and turned around, leaving without saying a word. He would leave that place, not being caught by the platoons of men storming the building. It’d take more than that to catch the infamous Mr. Death.
“Wherever you are, take care of yourself.” He whispered to the picture. He looked up at the computer in front of him, deleting what he could, before he could hear footsteps getting dangerously close. By the time the military team entered the room, all they could find was a corpse among hidden secrets. Just like with Raccoon City, they were too late…
Good.
If it looked like they weren’t doing anything, that means they were most likely doing their job right.
Nyet.. It looked like they were doing something… Being sluggish.
Call it what you want. They’re not my team anymore.
Nyet, they are not.
All of you have one team now — Yvette and Melissa down at the Unemployment office.
That couldn’t be truer. To think I went to college for this.
Good.
If it looked like they weren’t doing anything, that means they were most likely doing their job right.
Nyet.. It looked like they were doing something… Being sluggish.
Call it what you want. They’re not my team anymore.
Bah! *waves hand*
Sure — Whoop dee doo! Not like I gathered more combat data on my own for the company then your hoards of droopy-eyed armless children could ever have.
And that was your department’s job. We collected other things. Combat data was a secondary objective.
Oh, da? And how many people were in your troupe again?
5? 6?
Whenever I saw the USS Wolfpack they looked somewhat like a public construction site — One person working, and a bunch of others standing around drinking coffee.
Good.
If it looked like they weren’t doing anything, that means they were most likely doing their job right.
Well let’s hear it, then! Been needing a good story.
-deep breath- The Raccoon City trials went on for a long time, years even. One thing lead to another, the U.S. being as corrupt as it is pretended to be ‘innocent’ and blamed everything on us. Even the things they did! The next thing you know, Lord Spencer disappears from the face of the Earth and the FBI goes crazy trying to find him.
The other Commanders and I conversed with the financial and legal teams. They couldn’t find any admissible evidence with our involvement in the act of the several war crimes they accused us all of, and eventually deemed us unworthy of even a simple investigation! Talk about insulting. Next thing I know, we’re filing for bankruptcy and close down.
What’s left of what we had was eventually commandeered by Tricell, or something of that sort. Leaving me without a workplace and without a job.
The reason I say I’m ‘technically’ unemployed is because in the few standing Umbrella facilities left, I still have top secret clearance and full mobile clearance. Meaning, I’m still in the Umbrella database. I was never fired or layed off, we just simply closed down.
And here I am.
(via clockworkarachnid)
*grits teeth*
It’s incredible how much you pride yourself on capturing important details, and yet you have failed, time and time again, to acknowledge that I was never UBCS in the traditional sense of the word.
Yes.
You’re a monitor.
‘Whoop-dee-doo.’
It’s all the same to me now.
Bah! *waves hand*
Sure — Whoop dee doo! Not like I gathered more combat data on my own for the company then your hoards of droopy-eyed armless children could ever have.
And that was your department’s job. We collected other things. Combat data was a secondary objective.
-sigh- Well, Umbrella was bankrupt and essentially-
Do you want the long version or short version?
Depends on if you have as much time on your hands as I do.
I have plenty now.
(via clockworkarachnid)
Well.
There’s no Umbrella.
Simple.
Also note I said ‘technically.’
Oh yes.. Sorry, I just liked hearing that second group of words.
…
Of course. I would say something about you being U.B.C.S. but I think after years of work I’ve already used every insult in the book. So I’ll simply nod and put on a fake smile.
*grits teeth*
It’s incredible how much you pride yourself on capturing important details, and yet you have failed, time and time again, to acknowledge that I was never UBCS in the traditional sense of the word.
Yes.
You’re a monitor.
‘Whoop-dee-doo.’
It’s all the same to me now.