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It was nighttime already, HUNK noticed as he trudged through the empty streets. He massaged his neck, still sore from where a hatchet had been lodged into it. Sometimes, his capacity for survival surprised even himself.
So the plan had failed. That seemed to be a recurring trend with his employers, not that HUNK was particularly invested. So long as he could complete his mission, he’d keep his mouth shut. Survival was their responsibility.
This time he had thought it would be it. The Racoon City syndrome had been spreading through his body for months. He hadn’t expected any way out. Not even he could survive his own body turning against him. That was part of the reason he’d been so excited when he heard that the Leon S. Kennedy was a target. A worthy opponent to go out in a blaze of glory with.
But no. He had put up a good fight. A great one, even. Better than most. But he must not have done something right with that hatchet, because HUNK found himself crawling away minutes after Kennedy left the room. He had found an abandoned corridor to sit in, waiting to become the Human Unit Now Killed.
And when he woke up, he was fine.
According to some of the soldiers HUNK had eavesdropped on before sneaking past, there was some antiviral released into the air that cured all viral-based weapons. Worked for HUNK. So now he was free. Well, he would be, if he could get out of this husk of a city. He’d done it before, and he would do it again.
He’d been running all night, ever since he had gotten out of that wreck of a facility. He’d avoided detection so far, but the trip down memory lane was taking a little too long for his preference.
Then he saw it.
On the side of the road, somebody actually had parked a Porsche. It definitely wasn’t there before. There was barely any dust on it. The windows were intact. The paint wasn’t even scratched. And peeking through the windows, to HUNK’s disbelief, the keys were left right in the ignition.
Only one person would drive such an expensive car into such a dangerous zone and then ditch it. The same man responsible for the soreness in HUNK’s neck, even as he pulled on the door handle. Unlocked.
Wow. Thanks, Leon.
Under his mask and behind the wheel as he drove off, HUNK smiled.
“Now we’re even.”
“You lost the car,” Ada growled.
Leon was slumped in a recliner, his hand propping his head up as he did his best to ignore the daggers being shot into his skull.
“It was intact,” he mumbled under his breath, a point he had been repeating for the past ten minutes.
“Yes, Leon, it was intact the last time you saw it. Because as we know, Racoon City is such a safe place to leave things at.”
“I kind of had to save the day?” he reminded her.
“I’d be more impressed if that wasn’t what you were known for at this point,” she raised her eyebrows.
Leon felt the gold ring on his finger brush against his forehead as he looked up at Ada. A terrible thought had occurred to him.
“Ada, was there something important to you in the car? I should have checked before I-”
“No, Leon,” she icily responded, clasping her fingers. Her own gold ring stuck out like a sore thumb (no pun intended).
“I didn’t leave anything important in the car because it was so new I didn’t have the chance to do anything with it outside of the dealership”
As Ada walked over to the closet, Leon tried to come up with a retort. The fact he hadn’t destroyed it this time had proven ineffective.
“Well, I can buy a new one,” Leon shrugged. “They trust me. I might even be able to get the exact same model.”
“Why bother? We can just go get it from there ourselves,” Ada scoffed, pulling a shoulder holster from a box on the top shelf.
“Can we talk about this?” Leon pleaded as she put the holster on over her red sweater.
“We just did. You coming?”
Leon rolled his eyes and reached into the closet for his jacket. Ada put her hand on his wrist before he could pick anything up.
“Don’t bother. You’ll lose that too.”
Leon didn’t have any retort to that.
They didn’t make it far. Their front porch to be exact. When they saw the pristine custom Porsche Cayenne Turbo GT parked in their driveway. For once, they were both speechless, drawing their weapons wordlessly as they circled around to inspect the car that they had just been fighting about. A quick sweep later, it was clear there were no booby traps.
Ada pulled open the driver’s side door, noting the keys still in the ignition. And in the seat, lay a matte black gas mask, with a cracked red lens. It looked eerily familiar, though she couldn’t quite place the memory.
As Leon approached, she handed him the mask, confused.
“Friend of yours?”
Leon took a long look at the mask.
“Leon Kennedy. We finally meet.”
“Yeah. I could have sworn I got him back at the facility.”
“Well, if he was going to try anything else, he had his chance,” she shrugged, already holstering her weapon.
As she walked back inside, Leon lingered a moment. This was a message. He didn’t know exactly what the message was, but it was clearly a message. Maybe he wanted Leon to know he could find him anywhere. Maybe he wanted to thank him for leaving him a ride. Maybe he just didn’t have anything better to do.
As Leon walked back inside, he took one more look back at the bushes in the front yard, and the trash cans lying on the sidewalk. Maybe he was being paranoid. He’d probably never know. But he didn’t need to.
“Thanks, bro.”