"Allen, this way!" Caroline shouted as she fired her weapon, providing cover for Allen's group. Muzzle flashes lit up the dark hallway as her shots tore through approaching monsters, forcing them to stagger back.
Sienna did the same, moving into position beside Caroline. She raised her rifle and calmly took down several creatures that tried to get too close to Allen and the others.
Bang!...
Bang!...
Bang!...
The echoes of gunfire blended with snarls and screeches, turning the corridor into a war zone.
"Thanks!" Allen called back, not hesitating to accept their support as he continued moving forward, keeping Claire close to him.
Sienna glanced at him while reloading, shaking her head slightly in disbelief even as she kept her weapon trained on the hallway.
"Allen, what the hell are you doing here?" she shouted over the noise. "I thought you already left the city!"
Allen fired another round, dropping a zombie that lunged out from behind a gurney before answering.
"Well… I was actually looking for Chief Brian," he said calmly, almost too casually given the situation. "I heard he needed my help, so I came here."
Another monster collapsed under Caroline's fire, its body skidding across the blood-slick floor.
"Though," Allen continued, glancing briefly at the remains of what Brian had become, "it looks like I showed up a little too late for that."
"Sienna, what are you doing? Secure your boyfriend and get him to a safe location!" Jertingham shouted, his voice sharp and commanding even amid the chaos. "This place is too dangerous, and we can't afford to lose that man right now!"
Sienna heard him clearly. Instead of responding immediately, she simply rolled her eyes in mild annoyance before turning her attention to Allen.
"You heard the man, Allen," she said dryly. "We should find somewhere to take cover while my team clears this area."
Allen nodded without hesitation, lowering his weapon slightly as another burst of gunfire echoed down the hallway.
"Alright. I know a place," Allen replied calmly. "There are a few rooms in this hospital that should be secure enough to keep us safe from the zombies for a while."
Truthfully, Allen was already getting tired of dealing with the endless waves of infected. Letting Echo Six—and the USS—clean up the area first suited him just fine.
Without wasting any more time, Allen led Sienna, Claire, Ada, and Svetlana deeper into the hospital, moving swiftly through a side corridor toward the second floor. The lights flickered overhead, casting long, distorted shadows along the bloodstained walls.
They stopped in front of a reinforced laboratory door—one of Annette's private research rooms.
Allen stepped forward and entered the access code on the keypad, using the password Annette had given him earlier. For a brief moment, the keypad beeped, and then—
Click.
The door unlocked.
"Still works," Allen muttered, pushing the door open.
The group quickly slipped inside, and Allen sealed the door behind them. The lab was eerily quiet, the hum of machines and monitors standing in sharp contrast to the gunfire and screams echoing faintly from below.
And now, back in the main corridor, H.U.N.K noticed Allen and the others retreating into the lab. His weapon followed their movement for a brief second—but he did not fire.
For now, the ceasefire still stood.
H.U.N.K signaled his men to hold their positions and refocus on the incoming threats. Clearing the hospital took priority, and once that was done… negotiations could come later.
After all, that man—Allen—had just become far too valuable for them to ignore.
....
After more than twenty minutes of relentless fighting, the area was finally secured. The deafening gunfire faded into silence, replaced by the faint crackle of burning debris and the distant, agonized moans of dying infected echoing through the hospital halls.
Jertingham slowly turned toward H.U.N.K. After a brief pause, he deliberately lowered his weapon—an unmistakable signal. Echo Six had no intention of continuing the fight.
"Well," Jertingham said, exhaling deeply, his voice calm but wary, "I think we can talk a little more comfortably now."
H.U.N.K acknowledged the gesture with a short nod. His rifle never left his hands, but his finger eased away from the trigger.
"What's your objective here?" H.U.N.K asked bluntly, skipping all formalities.
"We're here to investigate Umbrella's involvement in the outbreak," Jertingham replied as he leaned back against a damaged concrete pillar. "Everyone in the Federation already knows Umbrella is responsible for what happened in Raccoon City." His eyes narrowed. "So let me ask you something—why are you still protecting a company like that?"
H.U.N.K remained silent for a moment before answering.
"We're mercenaries," he said evenly. "We were ordered to contain the disaster and follow specific directives—including securing and protecting corporate assets."
Jertingham leaned forward slightly. "If this is just about money," he said, his tone sharp but controlled, "why not work with us instead? I'm sure our superiors would pay you far more for your services. A lot better than standing by a corporation that's already been officially labeled criminal."
He paused, letting the words sink in.
"You know the risks," Jertingham continued. "Keep interfering with the Federation, and sooner or later you'll be branded terrorists."
The members of USS Delta exchanged brief glances. The offer clearly struck a nerve. Some of them looked conflicted—tempted, even.
Then H.U.N.K shook his head.
"I'm sorry," he said firmly. "That's not an option."
He turned slightly, his voice lowering.
"My men have families. Umbrella is probably watching them right now. If we betray the company at this point, those families would be the ones who pay the price."
The USS Delta operators stiffened. One by one, they nodded in agreement. There was no hesitation—only quiet resolve. Their captain wasn't just protecting a contract. He was protecting them.
Jertingham studied H.U.N.K for a long moment before nodding slowly.
"I understand," he said at last.
"This whole situation is a mess," Jertingham admitted under his breath. "But let's leave it at that—for now. We can talk about this later."
He straightened, his gaze locked onto H.U.N.K through the dim, flickering lights of the hospital corridor.
"And if you change your mind," he added calmly, his tone deliberate, "we can get you and your men out of this. Not just you—your families too."
The words hung heavily in the air.
"All you have to do," Jertingham finished, "is agree to work with us."
It wasn't an empty offer.
Jertingham genuinely respected their combat efficiency, discipline, and coordination. If H.U.N.K and USS Delta were to defect, the odds would shift dramatically—fewer casualties, faster containment, and a real chance to finally drag Umbrella into the light.
Lone Wolf, H.U.N.K's second-in-command, heard the exchange and instinctively turned his gaze toward his captain. Whatever decision H.U.N.K made, he would follow without question. That was simply how things were. He was a devoted admirer of H.U.N.K—someone who believed in his captain's judgment and strength more than anything else.
Meanwhile, H.U.N.K merely nodded.
"We should discuss this later," he said calmly. "After I finish my mission and make it out of this place alive."
His eyes then swept across his squad. Several of his men were injured, some bearing fresh wounds from zombie attacks. Judging by their condition, it was clear they wouldn't last long without treatment. They needed the vaccine—and they needed it soon.
Jertingham was in the same situation. He, too, required the vaccine. Earlier, he had been bitten on the leg by a zombie dog while trying to protect one of his subordinates. The wound had been hastily treated, but that didn't change the fact that the infection had already begun.
"Captain… are you alright?" Marissa asked, looking at him with visible concern.
H.U.N.K noticed the injury immediately and turned his masked face toward Jertingham.
"Were you bitten?" he asked bluntly.
"It's nothing," Jertingham replied, trying to brush it off. "Just a minor wound."
"No," H.U.N.K said firmly. "You're infected. We need to find Allen immediately so we can get the vaccine. My men need it too."
The members of Echo Six fell silent. Hearing that their captain had been injured—and infected—hit them hard. The mood shifted, heavy with tension and concern.
Jertingham sighed, then looked at his team before nodding in resignation.
"Yeah… looks like we need to meet Allen right now, before things get any worse," he said quietly.
All he could do now was hope that Allen would be willing to help them.
.....
Meanwhile, Allen appeared unusually relaxed, sitting calmly with the women inside Annette's laboratory room. Despite the distant echoes of gunfire and the chaos consuming the hospital, the room itself felt momentarily isolated—lit by flickering fluorescent lights and filled with the soft hum of dormant equipment.
"So… who exactly is she?" Sienna asked, glancing toward Claire with open curiosity.
Before Allen could respond, Claire stepped forward on her own.
"My name's Claire Redfield," she said, extending her hand. "Just call me Claire. I'm one of Allen's old school friends."
Sienna blinked for a moment, then smiled warmly as she accepted the handshake.
"Nice to meet you, Claire. I'm Sienna Fowler. You can call me Sienna."
Claire returned the smile, and before long, the two of them began talking naturally. Claire asked about Sienna's work, her role in Echo Six, and how she had come to know Allen in the first place. The conversation flowed easily—almost too easily for a place like this—briefly pushing away the dread that loomed over Raccoon City.
In the middle of their discussion, Sienna's radio suddenly crackled to life.
"Sienna, come in," a voice from Echo Six reported. "We've got multiple wounded. Some of them were bitten. Situation's getting worse."
Sienna's expression immediately hardened. She lowered the radio and turned toward Allen.
"Allen… can you help my team?" she asked seriously. "They need vaccines. Some of them were injured by zombies."
Allen fell silent for a moment, thinking. Then he nodded slowly.
"Hmm… I can," he said. "But tell them I have a condition."
Sienna raised an eyebrow. "A condition?"
"Tell your captain to pretend they never saw me here," Allen replied calmly. "And they must promise not to disclose the fact that I can make vaccines."
There was a clear reason behind his demand. Allen had no intention of being dragged into Federation politics—especially not with Simmons involved.
Sienna studied his face for a moment, then nodded.
"Alright. I'll relay that to my captain."
She turned away and spoke quietly into her radio, explaining Allen's terms in full. Several tense moments passed as everyone waited. Finally, the radio crackled again with a response.
"They agreed," Sienna said, looking back at Allen.
"Good," Allen replied. "Then have them move to the third floor. There's another empty room they can use to rest while I prepare the vaccines."
With that, Allen stood up, his relaxed demeanor fading as he shifted back into focus. Without another word, he moved deeper into the lab, ready to get to work—fully aware that time, in this city, was something none of them could afford to waste.
Sienna soon left the room to regroup with her team, guiding them toward the room Allen had mentioned so they could take shelter and tend to the wounded. The sound of her boots faded down the corridor, leaving the lab noticeably quieter.
While Allen focused on preparing the vaccine—his hands moving steadily as he worked with syringes, vials, and unfamiliar-looking equipment—Ada stepped closer to him.
"Darling, I'm going to head out for a bit," Ada said softly. "I'll be back."
Allen glanced up at her, already sensing what she was planning.
"Hm… alright," he replied. "But be careful. And don't take too long."
"Of course," Ada said with a confident smile. "Relax. Svetlana's coming with me."
She leaned in and kissed Allen on the cheek before turning toward the door. It was clear Ada had already pinpointed William's location and intended to hunt him down again—this time with backup. Svetlana, eager to face William directly and test her own strength, had volunteered without hesitation.
Moments later, the door closed behind them, and the room fell silent.
Now, only Allen and Claire remained.
Claire watched him quietly as he worked, noting how calm and focused he looked despite everything happening around them. After a while, she finally spoke.
"I really didn't expect this," Claire said, her voice low. "I mean… you making medicine like this. I thought your major at the university was mostly about electrical and mechanical engineering."
She paused, then added, "Since when did you become a medical expert?"
Allen let out a small chuckle without looking up from his work.
"Well… a lot's happened, Claire," he replied casually. "I guess it started about two years ago. Back then, it was really just a hobby. I was messing around, nothing serious."
He spoke lightly, deliberately downplaying his own abilities, as if what he was doing were nothing special.
But hearing that only made Claire fall silent.
She looked away for a moment, a faint sense of frustration and insecurity settling in her chest. Compared to Allen, she couldn't help but feel painfully ordinary—and that realization stung more than she wanted to admit.