Archive of Our Own

I.H  

“Where’d it go?”

Helena’s voice was nearly drowned out by the overwhelming racket—the rattling of drawers, the barking of dogs, the neighbors next door going to town on one-another. Hunnigan couldn’t see anything beyond a few feet in front of her face as she lay there on the bed, on the edge of her sanity. The snowstorm had knocked out the power over an hour ago and somehow the tinny, warbling sound of Jingle Bells was still pouring from the speakers of the house across the street. It was as if they’d set up a generator for the express purpose of making her life a living hell. "Helena, just give up!" She groaned, pressing her hands against her face hard enough to leave a mark.

"But…!" She began to protest but a defeated sigh marked its end. "Fine." Helena grumbled, grabbing her shirt from the bed and pulling it back on. "But it's not gonna stop bothering me until I find it again. You put it back in the drawer after last time, right?" She flopped onto the bed, struggling with the pillow and muttering to herself. 

Hunnigan didn't respond, her eyes practically vibrating as she tried to shut out the sound around her. The moaning. The barking. Jingle Bells . Her heart began to hammer in her chest and she grit her teeth, lashing out to the nightstand on her side of the bed to search for the earplugs she kept handy. Moments after her hand bumped them she heard the clatter on the floor and all at once the pressure building in her chest erupted from her mouth in an enraged scream. Practically leaping from the bed she snatched her keys from the nightstand and collected her clothes from the floor, dressing as she fumbled her way toward the door. 

"Ingrid…" Helena sighed after her, but it only served to make her that much more irritated. She slammed the bedroom door and stormed down the stairs, her heart pounding against her ribcage and rivulets of sweat running down her back. Even in the dark she knew exactly where to go and by time she'd reached the door out she'd barely finished putting on her pants. 

For a moment after she stepped outside she felt her entire body scream for her to go back inside, away from the cold, but she shook that protest off and trudged through the building banks of snow, teeth already chattering in the piercing wind. It wasn't safe to drive on the roads, but it was even less safe for her to be home. Her numbing hands fumbled with the car door for a brief time before she finally found purchase on the slippery handle and pulled it open, sliding inside and jamming the key into the ignition in a desperate bid to warm herself. 

Not for a moment did she pause to think, barely giving herself time to buckle up before she was reversing out of the driveway and onto the street of the suburb, blasting her horn as she passed the house with the speakers on the lawn.

From inside the car everything seemed so much quieter, so much calmer, and yet the panic didn't stop. The flashing lights in the corners of her eyes as the dashboard clock changed minute by minute, her GPS with its last destination in mind insisting she was going the wrong direction, the reflective street signs glaring at her as they caught her car's headlights, it gnawed at the corners of her mind and she couldn't think straight, it felt as if there was an iron hand squeezing the air from her lungs with each breath.

She kept driving, she knew where she was going.

Her phone buzzed. Buzzed. Buzzed again. She turned it off without a glance at the screen.

According to the clock it had been forty five minutes since she'd left Helena behind for the umpteenth time in the last two months. It was always forty five minutes. The gate guard let her through as always, and finally, killing the ignition, she found her peace. 

Complete silence reigned in the small parking lot for the overlook. It was rare anyone came around, and even rarer that it wasn't closed for some safety concern. It was far away from the main road, the wildlife had been long since driven away, and the gate guard was an unsociable but understanding man who let her in whenever she needed. Those few times his supervisor had caught her, the DSO badge got her out of trouble. 

In the dark, without power and without noise, her mind was calm again and she drifted off to sleep in the cab of her car.

I can’t take this, not for much longer.

H.H

How many times this month?

Helena sighed into the dark as she thought to herself. She wasn't angry, not this time. Not like the first time she'd stormed out. Now she was just worried—scared, even—that everything they'd built would come crumbling down around their ears. 

For the first few months it had all been fine. It hadn't taken Hunnigan long to get back on her feet after the incident at the Beaton mill. Of course it hadn't, she was the strongest person Helena knew. And yet it had seemed off at the time, like the smile was hiding something worse. Then the episodes started, out of nowhere it seemed. One night the next door neighbors had decided to host a dinner party that morphed into some sort of rave that lasted well into the night. Ingrid had gotten up so suddenly that Helena thought there was some intruder she hadn't heard come in, but when she left without explanation and of her own accord, Helena couldn't deny that it scared her. 

She'd spent the rest of the night awake in the living room, watching reruns of old late night sitcoms until she heard Hunnigan's key in the lock. It was then she'd explained that ever since being locked in cages, carted around by the nurse from hell, noise in its any form would set something off in her. Usually she could ignore it, but when it was so intense it was nearly unbearable. The earplugs had helped her sleep some nights, but others were simply too much for her. 

With a reluctant sigh, Helena grabbed her phone and opened up the browser. Worrying now was pointless, and trying to call would only make it worse. All that was left to do now was relax and wait for her to come back, something that was becoming concerningly easier to do with every passing incident. After the night they'd had—or rather, been so close to having—she needed to take care of something. She tapped open the bookmarks folder and began scrolling through. Eventually she settled on a certain video near the bottom, one she'd visited several times before. With the way things had been going recently, she was glad she never cancelled her subscription.

As the page loaded from black the entire device froze and began to vibrate. For a brief moment she thought her evil deeds were finally catching up with her until the display switched over to the call screen and she groaned internally. It was a number she didn't recognize and she instinctively swiped the reject button, huffing in frustration as the browser window popped back up incorrectly loaded. As she pushed the refresh button the phone vibrated again and she turned her eyes to the notification bar. 

A voicemail. Who leaves voicemails?

Intrigued, she tapped the notification and brought up the voicemail app. 

At least it's short. She muttered in her head as she hit the play button and listened as the speakers spit out a painfully familiar voice.

"Hey there, Helena! How's shit going? I'm in a bit of a jam here so if you don't mind giving me a ring back, thanks!"

The line clicked. Eliza. It'd been over a year since their adventure at the plant and she was reasonably certain they'd never exchanged numbers. It was a morbid curiosity that sent her back to the call screen, the video in her browser forgotten for the moment. 

The line only rang twice before the woman on the other end picked up. "Hey, someone's up early!" Eliza's voice was unusually chipper. "How's it going?"

Helena was silent for a good three seconds before finally responding, "Why are you calling at two in the morning, Eliza? And how did you get this number?"

"Oh, you know. So anyway—"

"No, I don't know."

" Anyway , I'm in a bit of a jam here, you think you could get some of your old BSO pals out here? Preferably… now?"

"What are you talking about?" Helena sat up, propping herself against the wall. In the background of the call she could hear what sounded like a door opening to let in a very familiar noise. "Hold on, is that gunfire?!"

"Uh! Hold on!" The sound from the other side of the line was muffled as Eliza put her hand over the receiver. Helena sure as hell didn't like Eliza but if she was being shot at, she had an obligation to help. "Okay, so your friend here says that we're currently being shot at by Umbrella operatives and there are some weird bioweapons. Actually they're not weird I told her, they're Stilties—you know, those things that the weird screaming nurse attacked us with?"

"Woah woah, my friend? Umbr—why didn't you open with that, Eliza?!" Helena jumped out of bed and began rifling through her drawers for her handgun. "Where are you, I'll call for backup and be right down." She grabbed the closest thing she could find to an outfit and began dressing herself. 

"Well I didn't want to be rude. I'll text you the address, just hurry up. She's good with a gun but there's a lot of these fucks!" The phone beeped as Eliza hung up and left Helena to finish getting dressed and dial the number to HQ. 

"Department of—" 

She recognized the voice instantly. "Marina, it's Helena Harper. I need agents dispatched to…" Her phone buzzed the very moment she realized she didn't know the address yet. "Hold on." She pulled the phone away from her ear and brought up the message, memorizing the contents before returning to the call. "6987 South Campbell Street, it's a parking garage. Send as many as you can."

"Helena, what—"

No time.

Helena hung up the phone, tucking her handgun into the holster on her belt and making for the door out. Sparing only a moment to check her jacket pocket for the keys, she nearly leapt out the door and slammed it behind her, frantically clicking the unlock button as she neared the sedan. 

She scrambled to plug in her phone and the moment it buzzed she began calling Hunnigan for what would be the first try of many.

She’s in danger. Again. And if Eliza is in danger...

E.B

"Eliza, can you help me?!" 

The strange woman shouted over the screeching and the echo of gunfire. Eliza looked over the gun in her hands, feeling a sick weight settling in the pit of her stomach. "Hey, are you alright?!"

"I don't like this!" She stated matter-of-factly, keeping herself small against the corner of the breaker room. "Can't you just take it, I don't… I'm not good with these!" Eliza rattled the handgun. As bullets chipped away at the walls she could feel her panic growing by the second. "Look—" She was cut off by a yelp as a stray shot grazed her hard hat. "Fucking fuck!" Her voice had raised an octave and her grip on the weapon tightened until her knuckles went white.

"Moira all over again." The woman across from her sighed, peeking around the corner and squeezing off a wide shot at the operatives, almost as if to remind them of the presence of the third party. They responded with another hail of bullets that embedded themselves harmlessly in the wall. "Look, I get it, but we need to focus right now, okay? You don't need to be accurate, just aim where you think they are and pull the trigger, you've got this!"

Eliza took several deep breaths and shifted her head until she could just see beyond the door frame, popping off a shot in the general direction of whatever seemed like a black shape. Almost instantly she recoiled back into cover, panic closing around her throat like a cold glove and she found herself completely unable to speak.

"Good job, just keep doing that! Did Helena say when she'd be here?" The woman spoke like she was trying to keep Eliza grounded. "Because we could really use the backup right now." She mumbled to herself, checking the magazine on her handgun.

Eliza had made the call nearly thirty minutes ago according to her watch and was beginning to worry that it had all been some drunken hallucination. She double checked the call log on her phone. It'd happened, so where the hell were they? She fired off another shot, crying out in pain as her shoulder jerked again, harder than last time. Fear constricted her chest as she took a deep breath and she felt like she was suffocating. "No, it's been thirty minutes, I don't know where she is!"

"Alright, it's okay. She'll be here. I've been through worse than this, we'll be fine Eliza." The woman sounded like her confidence was wavering, but her voice was inspiring enough to clear away some of the panic in Eliza's mind.

As if on cue, the flashing of lights announced a new contender in the ring and the scream of Stilties closely accompanied the raucous gunfire of the newly-arrived agents. “There are too many!” One of the operatives from beyond the door could be heard shouting to the rest of her team as she opened fire in the direction of the commotion. “Command, this is Delta-10, we’re pulling out, it’s too hot!”  

The insistent radio chatter was lost behind the clicking of boots on the concrete floors as the team retreated. In a heated moment, Eliza leaned out and pulled the trigger one last time, barely able to see through her near-double vision. A scream of pain told her she’d hit her mark. “The bitch shot me in the leg!” That same voice cried out and Eliza could see the team pause for a brief moment.

“Fucking… leave her, we can’t risk slowing down!” Another voice, this one decidedly male. “I’m sorry.” What was no doubt meant to be an apologetic whisper was amplified by his mask and the team could be heard retreating, leaving behind their wounded comrade.

“Holy shit, I think I hit someone!” Eliza shouted, the adrenaline pumping hot through her veins and making her forget her panic for a minute. “I hit someone… lady!” She pointed the gun at the strange lady, who instantly ducked away just in time for the half-crazed woman to accidentally pull the trigger and bury a bullet right in the panel behind her. “Er… oops.”

“Yeah, you did. Good job Eliza, now let’s just…” The woman reached out and took the gun from her hands, carefully, setting it on the ground. “Looks like Helena’s here, let’s go talk to her, yeah?” Her voice was calm and she took Eliza by the hand, gently guiding her out of the room. 

As soon as the fresh air hit her, she doubled over and vomited all over the floor.

I could've hurt her. I almost did. I can't.

I.H

“Good Morning!”

Hunnigan blinked her eyes blearily as the early rays of dawn shined through the windshield, roused by the alarm on her watch. Pulling her seat back upright, she rubbed her face vigorously and grabbed her glasses from the seat next to her, pulling them on and looking around. She didn’t remember much of the last night, it was rare that she did in these instances, but when she woke up at the overlook she always knew what had happened.

She grabbed her phone from the seat and held down the power button, watching it flip through the manufacturer logos before the home screen finally flickered into view, the seal of the DSO providing the background to her passcode screen. As soon as she found her way to the home screen the notifications came flooding in, calls and texts from several different numbers. 

The first text in the bunch was from Helena, a small handful, but it was the last that caught her eye, sent only an hour ago.

“Ingrid, I don’t know where you are or what you’re doing, but wherever you are you need to get to HQ now. It’s not safe.”

The rest of the messages said something similar, but there was nothing that went into detail. Frustrated, and still in her nightclothes, she turned the car back on and went to back out of the lot, only to find the guard missing from his post. His shift wasn’t supposed to be over for another three hours. 

Carefully, she peered out her window and looked around, there weren’t many places he could patrol that she wouldn’t see him. Something was going on, and the chill down her spine wouldn’t let her forget it. The feeling was all too familiar, it was the same one she’d felt the night that she’d been taken over a year prior. Now she knew how to identify it. Slowly, as if she were being watched, she reached for the glove box, only to realize that the gun she intended to pull was still sitting next to the bed at her house. 

Now she was starting to get nervous. Carefully, she withdrew her hand and pulled the handle on her door, if she had any hope of getting out of this she had to get the gate open. When the first foot hit the asphalt she almost expected a hand to shoot out and grab her from beneath, but when nothing happened she quickly jumped into the open air, leaving the door open behind her for a quick escape.

With her slippers on it wasn’t a difficult run to the gate and the button was very clearly marked. She punched it with the side of her hand and whirled around, making a mad dash for her vehicle. Nothing stopped her on her way and she nearly thought she’d imagined the whole thing until a vicious banging from the back window of her car jolted her out of any thoughts of safety. A quick glance in her rearview mirror told her that one of the things from the factory, one of Jordan’s ‘children’ was latched on to the trunk of her car and was trying to bash in the windscreen. Without a weapon on hand, she laid on the gas and watched it struggle, but its claws were still tightly embedded. The road was winding and precarious, nearly bringing her to tumble over the edge more than once in her fierce swerving to shake the thing off, but by the time she’d reached the road it had fallen off into some ditch.

At this time of morning, on the weekend during the holidays no less, the roads were mostly empty save for a handful of commuters and she was able to make quick distance, grabbing her phone from the cupholder and holding it up to her face. “Ok, Google. Call Helena.” The phone beeped and the call screen came up. Hunnigan tapped the speaker button and then rested it on her leg, keeping a keen eye on the road and her rearview mirror.

“Ingrid, is that you?” Helena’s panicked voice came over the speaker and a commotion could be heard somewhere behind her.

“It’s me. What’s going on here, Helena? Why was another one of those things after me?” A shiver shot through her as she realized just how close she'd been to being grabbed again. 

"It's a long—" Helena went so silent that Hunnigan thought the line had gone dead for a few seconds before her muffled voice carried through, barely registering with the receiver. "Just make sure she doesn't wander off." There was a rustling as she brought the phone back up. "Sorry. It's a long story, Hun, just… you really need to get to HQ, we can explain when you get here."

With a shaky breath, still habitually checking the rearview mirror, Hunnigan nodded to herself. "Alright, I'm…" she trailed off, glancing at the clock. "Ten minutes away. I might have someone following me." She took her two safest guesses, watching the mirrors and street signs. 

"I'll have Leon meet you in the parking lot." Helena paused for a brief moment before speaking up again, "Stay safe, okay? I'm not losing you again." Even through the spotty reception she could hear the determination in her voice. 

"I'm not planning on being taken again. I'll see you in ten minutes." The tenseness in her own voice caught her off guard and she tried to relax, making a conscious effort to keep her voice soft. "I love you, Helena."

"I love you too, Hunnigan." The voice on the other side came through with worry just before the line beeped, signaling the end of the call. With a sigh, she tossed the device back into the seat next to her. 

Jordan was back, that much was certain. She wasn't surprised, not by a long shot. The way the strange woman had gone on about protecting her, the affection she'd shown with the crayon drawings, Hunnigan knew she wouldn't give up. The DSO had spent a few months searching but it seemed like the woman was a ghost who had completely vanished from the face of the earth after that night in the steel mill. Now, though, she'd resurfaced, and the implication made Ingrid sick to her stomach.

The looming peak of the DSO HQ came into view over the top of the city and she felt a weight release from her chest. 

She wasn't alone in this, not this time.

H.H

Six hours earlier

"Claire, is that you?" 

Helena jogged across the parking garage, dodging the numerous bodies of the so-called 'Stilties' that littered the concrete floors. She was a rather sad sight, wearing whatever she was able to find which turned out to be a stained and ripped Avenged Sevenfold t-shirt and a pair of skinny jeans that barely fit anymore. The only saving grace that kept her from looking like a street vagrant was the vest under her coat that very clearly identified her as an agent of the DSO.

"Helena, hey!" The woman in question raised a hand in greeting before returning to the task of comforting what appeared to be a very drunk Eliza Beaton who was curled up in the corner alternating between crying and dry heaving into a rather impressive puddle of vomit. "There you go." Claire whispered, clearly a bit put off by the display.

The agent approached the two, a bit astounded to see the younger woman suddenly caught in the middle of this mess. "What are you doing here?" Eliza responded immediately by letting an ear-splitting scream rip from her chest that drew more than a few worried glances from the other agents. It seemed so pained that Helena was worried she'd been seriously injured before she started singing quietly to herself. "Both of you." She amended, furrowing her brow at the increasingly strange woman.

Claire stood from her post at Eliza's side, dusting her jacket off and turning her attention to Helena. "Thanks for the rescue, I don't think we could've held out much longer." She kept her voice low, glancing with concern at the woman on the floor behind her. "I don't know what she's doing here, I found her when I showed up. Leon was supposed to come check something out down here but I guess he got drunk so he pushed it off on me. I wasn't really expecting…" She gestured broadly to the room; the bodies, the Umbrella operative in cuffs, the bullet holes that riddled the dark concrete, all the thread that comprised the tapestry of chaos. "All this."

Helena sighed at that explanation, following Claire's gesturing. "Sounds like Leon alright." She turned her attention back to the scene in front of her. "Are either of you injured, do you need the medic?" She jabbed a finger over her shoulder at the man very haphazardly cleaning the wound of a very unhappy agent. 

"Yes, medic." Eliza spoke directly for the first time since Helena arrived, turning her tear stained face up to look at her friend. "I need a medic." The pathetic whimper in her voice almost made Helena feel sorry for her. 

"Garrett, we got someone over here!" She shouted over her shoulder to the medic, who looked up immediately at the mention of his name. 

"Just a second!" He called back, finalizing the wound dressing with a very sloppy bandage job and muttering something under his breath. Just when it seemed like the agent he was working on was going to attack him, he gathered his kit up and nearly ran across the room to the pitiful scene. "What's up?" He looked between the three, clearly a bit uncomfortable. When his eyes tracked to the mess on the floor he seemed to understand instantly. "Oh." He muttered, shouldering past Helena and crouching down, very carefully avoiding the vomit puddle. "Can—" He paused as Eliza inhaled for another scream, shutting his eyes and bracing before she was, thankfully, cut off by another dry heave. "Can you tell me what's wrong?" He continued, trying to look her over without actually touching her. 

"I'm…" She trailed off, looking up at him and squinting. "You're not hot." She grumbled, forcing herself into a sitting position. "I thought the DSA was all ladies like her." She pointed exactly between Helena and Claire, missing both of them. "You're not a hot lady." She stated with confidence. 

"I'm…" He blinked several times, looking back up at Helena in confusion. When all she gave him was a shrug, he reluctantly returned to the worker leaning against the wall. "Are you hurt?" He enunciated his words, digging around in his jacket pockets for something. After a few seconds, he pulled out a small flashlight and shined it over her. "She doesn't look injured." He spoke back to the two behind him. 

"Well then I guess she's not injured." Helena sighed. "Sorry doc. I think Smithson over there could use some help." She pointed back at the agent struggling to staunch the bleeding in the leg of the uncooperative operative. 

"Of course." Garrett muttered, pushing up to his feet with a groan and nodding a goodbye to the two women, reluctantly stepping over the protective railing and approaching the scene.

"Who let that guy be a medic?" Helena muttered, running a hand through her hair and turning back to look at Eliza. "I guess we've got to wait for her to sober up if we want to know what's going on here. You should come down too, the director's going to want to have some questions I'm sure." She shot a side glance at Claire, who looked just as exhausted as Helena felt. "He probably won't be in until morning, you can get some sleep in one of the bunks, nobody there uses them anyway."

"Yeah, that sounds good." Claire nodded through a stifled yawn, subtly stretching her shoulders as if she were just now realizing how exhausted she was. Judging by the state of the wall she'd been hiding behind, the shootout had been long and intense. "What are you guys gonna do with her?" She twisted around to look at the Umbrella operative who was currently struggling against the hack-job the medic was currently performing on her leg, presumably to remove the bullet. "I'm guessing you aren't going to stitch her up and cut her loose?" Her voice carried a laugh as she looked back to Helena.

"I doubt it." The agent chuckled, raking a hand back through her hair. "It's going to be up to the director to decide that, but my guess is a pretty thorough interrogation." She sighed through her teeth, dreading the potential return of Neo-Umbrella. After the shitshow that had been Lanshiang, the group resurfacing in the U.S could well have disastrous consequences, perhaps more so than the Family could even hope to achieve. "Why, do you have any idea why they're here?" 

Claire shook her hair, giving a side glance to a now sleeping Eliza. "None. They showed up a few minutes after those bioweapons—Stilties, I think she called them—trapped us in the power room. We thought maybe the cops had shown but then we saw the masks." Her face became a mask of discomfort and flexed her fingers. "Do you think they've got something to do with Neo-Umbrella?" She voiced Helena's concern in a hushed tone.

"I don't know." Helena admitted, shaking her head and checking her watch. "Speculating isn't helping anything right now, though. Come on, it's almost midnight. I'll give you and Eliza a ride back to HQ." She jerked her head toward the mouth of the abandoned garage.

Claire nodded and turned her head to look at the sleeping woman. "Any chance I could get some help lifting her?"

They’re back. Why are they back?

E.B

"Holy fucking shit." 

Those were the first words from Eliza's mouth before she'd even opened her eyes. Her mouth felt like it was made of cotton, her lips were dry and cracked, and she could smell the booze and vomit on her overalls. Reluctantly she peeled her eyes open, only to find that she seemed to be in a nearly pitch black room, the only light the moonlight shining through the window above her, and even that seemed too bright. 

As her vision cleared and she took in her surroundings, she realized she was in what appeared to be a holding cell. Not the first time. With considerable effort and a protracted groan she managed to struggle to her feet from the cot, stumbling toward the cell door with the intent of rattling it and pissing off whoever was on watch until they gave her water. Instead, when the door slid open under her weight, she nearly toppled to the floor, saved only by an instinctively quick hand that grabbed onto one of the bars. "Jesus." She muttered, staggering her way toward the door on the far end of the hallway. Beyond it was what seemed to be a pitch black corridor that she felt her way along until she reached what felt like an elevator panel at the end. She took a stab in the dark and, thankfully, hit the "up" button. 

Unlike the rooms prior, the elevator lights were humming with life and they served to make the throbbing in Eliza's head even worse. There only seemed to be two buttons, one for “office” and the other for “basement”. Figuring she was already in the basement, she hit the office button and gagged when the lurching start threatened to bring up her dinner. The buzz of the lights above dug into her brain and she hand to screw her eyes shut and pinch the bridge of her nose, trying not to vomit in the corner of the car from the lurching movement of the clearly under-maintained elevator. Just when it was becoming unbearable, the elevator rumbled to a stop and a loud ding cut through the air and right into her mind. The shock of pain travelled straight to her stomach and that was the last straw. She stumbled out of the elevator desperately and grabbed the nearest trash can, vomiting hard into the empty bag. There wasn’t much in her stomach from the previous night, and what there was she couldn’t identify. 

After the heaving had died down, she poked her head out of the can and looked around, wiping the tears from her eyes and trying to take in her surroundings. Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be many of them. From what she could tell she was in a rather well-maintained office space, but the only light was in the far corner, the glow of a computer monitor illuminating someone sleeping in their chair, their back turned and legs propped up on the desk across from them. Eliza got to her feet shakily and began forward, trying to avoid bumping into any desks along the way. She squinted as she came closer, trying to make out the figure in the chair. When she couldn’t even discern the head from the body, she raised her voice. “Hey, you awake over there?”

The reaction was immediate and the woman in the chair leapt out of her seat, scrambling for the handgun she kept on her desk. Now fully facing Eliza, she recognized the face, though it was partially obscured by the darkness. “Holy shit, Helena? What are you doing here?” She looked around, still trying to figure out where ‘here’ was exactly.

"Eliza? You're awake early." Even through the sleep in her voice, Helena still carried a laugh in her tone. She stole a glance at the clock on her computer and set the handgun down, though Eliza was well accustomed to the agent pointing a gun at her by now. "It's only 3 A.M, you've barely been asleep for four hours." Her voice was slightly incredulous as she turned her eyes back up to look at the new arrival again. "Are you feeling alright, you were pretty hammered."

"Uh…" Eliza took stock of herself, nearly vomiting again as she realized how intense the pain in her head and neck were. "Not great." Her voice was hoarse from the dehydration. "I threw up in your trash can a bit though. Can I get some water?" She looked around what parts of the room she could see, searching for the water cooler. This was an office, they were bound to have one somewhere. At least that's what she'd heard.

“Water? Yeah.” Helena sighed quietly, straightening her messy hair out. “Let me just get the lights.” She muttered, barely audible over the humming of her computer tower. Luckily, though, Eliza just barely managed to catch it through the pounding in her ears.

“No!” She shouted, much louder than she intended, enough to make herself wince. “No lights, please. I’m begging you.” Her voice was almost pathetic in its begging, she could already feel the pain in the back of her head at the thought of the harsh lights coming on. “Can’t you just use your flashlight?” She pointed at the phone on the desk.

“No… lights?” Helena seemed confused for a moment before the realization passed over her face. “Oh, right. Hangover.” She nodded, grabbing her phone and unlocking it. “I’ll be right back, I’ve got to talk to you.” The agent flipped on the flashlight and began the walk across the office, using the light to make certain she didn’t trip over anything on the way.

Eliza slumped back into the nearest desk chair, melting into the plush back and pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes. Never more had she wanted to die than at the current moment, the pain in her head and neck was almost unbearable and she felt like she was constantly on the verge of vomiting. Whatever—or whoever —I did last night and damn well better be worth it. She thought to herself, exhaling in irritation from her nose. 

What did I do last night? 

Helena clearing her throat brought her back to reality and she groaned as she reached for the cup, downing its contents in one go. Immediately her hand flew to her mouth and she pressed the ridge of her fist against her lips, trying to keep down the water she’d just swallowed. It felt awful to be swallowing anything at the moment, but eventually her stomach calmed down and let out a heavy sigh of relief. “Thanks.” She mumbled, letting her head hang over the back of the chair. “You wanna tell me why the fuck I’m at the BSO’s office and not the sherriff’s office?” 

“DSO.” Helena corrected, taking a seat back at her computer and pulling something up on the screen.

“Whatever.”

The agent sighed and rubbed her forehead, clicking on something and then leaning back, staring at the screen. “We found you in an old parking garage with Claire Redfield having a shootout with some Umbrella operatives and those monsters from your parents’ steel mill. Stilties, I think you said.” She looked to Eliza for confirmation, who nodded and motioned for her to continue. “Unfortunately, Claire just happened to show up, so we have no idea why you were there, or why any of those other things were there. I was hoping you could help clear that up.”

“The fuck’s Claire Redfield?” The name was the thing she chose to latch onto. Maybe that’s who I did last night. Sounds hot. Eliza laughed to herself, crossing her legs and momentarily forgetting her pain.

“Don’t worry about it, you’ll meet her tomorrow. I need to know why you were in that garage, Eliza.”

“Sorry mate, I don’t remember shit from last night.” She answered almost immediately, shaking her head. “You got the address? If I was there chances are it was some kinda job or some shit, maybe I’ve got it in my book.” She patted around her overalls, searching for the black book of jobs she kept on her at all times. Eventually she found it tucked into her belt and worked it out, flipping the pages open and squinting through the dark at the tiny handwriting that she always cursed herself for using.

“You texted it to me.” Helena nodded toward Eliza, who quickly shook her head.

“No no, I’m not gonna look at my phone for the next twenty years. Too bright.” She groaned at the thought, closing her eyes and tilting her head back again. The agent sighed and typed something in on her computer, clicking through several screens.

“Uhhh… 6987 Campbell Street.”

“Heh.” Eliza chuckled to herself, only slightly ashamed of laughing at the number. She scanned through the recent entries until she found one with messier handwriting. Incidentally, she learned she’d written the same thing just underneath the 69. “Yeah, I got it here. I don’t remember the number though, I’ve probably got it in my phone somewhere, but… well, you know.” She shrugged, putting the book away.

“You mind giving your phone to me so I can look through the call log, then?” Helena motioned toward Eliza’s many pockets. “I promise I won’t dig through anything else.” Her tone was playful, but it didn’t help Eliza worry any less.

“Uhh…” She thought of everything she had on her phone in that instant, the lockscreen, the wallpaper, the names of her contacts… “Not gonna do that, sorry. Don’t you have someone else you can ask about this shit? Carley Redmond or whatever?”

“Claire Redfield.” She corrected again, this time sighing in exasperation. “Yeah, we’ve got one other person, but if that doesn’t pan out I’m going to need you to give me that number in your phone or we’re shit outta luck. I’ll get a court order if I have to.” Despite the slightly ridiculous threat, her voice was dead serious.

“Alright, alright.” Eliza muttered, trying to blink away the sleep. “You mind if I go back to jail? I’m really fuckin’ tired.” Her words were punctuated by a deep yawn and she felt herself nearly falling asleep in the ridiculously comfortable chair.

“Yeah, I do actually. I don’t have anyone else with me right now so I’m going to need you to back me up, I doubt this person is going to be forthcoming.” Helena stood up, stretching for the first time since she’d awoken. “Come on, it won’t take long.” 

Although Eliza was certain this was against protocol, the proposition was too good to pass up. If she didn’t say anything, she wouldn’t get in trouble. Despite her state, she found herself extremely excited to take part in… whatever it was she was being asked to take part in. With a renewed vigor she jumped out of her seat and nearly jogged after Helena, subconsciously reaching up to hold her hard hat in place, but she couldn’t seem to find it. “Uh… where’s Barry?”

“Burton?”

“No, my hat.” Eliza ran a hand through her hair. "You know, the hard hat? With Barry written on the side?" She elaborated when Helena didn't answer her. "Where'd it go, if I was on a job site I'd be wearing it."

"I wasn't the one who took you down there, Leon was. Ask him." The agent gave a noncommittal shrug and stepped into the elevator. The promise of having to deal with the lurching car and the buzz of the lights again suddenly brought Eliza back to her hangover and she glanced at the trash can that was full of her sick.

"Can't we take the stairs?" She asked hopefully, her face twisted up in discomfort. 

Helena raised a brow and glanced over Eliza's shoulder toward the far side of the room. "Sure, but it's seven floors down, you really wanna walk that far in your state?"

With a small groan Eliza relented, hesitating at the threshold of the elevator before stepping in, her stomach almost immediately twisting in protest. Any other time she would've welcomed the exercise of the stairs, but Helena made a good point. Too good a point. She braced herself against the railings and took a bracing breath. "Go on then, let's get it over with." Her voice was slightly shaky as she waited for that lurch. Finally, the agent hit the button for the basement and the elevator kicked to life. When it shook, Eliza almost immediately felt herself on the verge of vomiting, pressing her hand against her mouth and holding her breath in a desperate attempt to keep it all down. The ride was taken in silence while Helena stared at the other woman from the other side of the car, obviously anticipating the breaking of the dam. However, when the car ground to a halt and nothing came up, Eliza staggered out into the hall and threw her arms into the air in celebration, even if she couldn't quite say anything yet.

"Good, now the janitors won't have it out for you." Helena chuckled and flipped on the dim lights, barely enough to illuminate the halls. Still, it was better than feeling around in the dark. "Come on, the interrogation room's just down this way." She pointed to the door at the end of the hallway. 

Eliza ground to a halt at that and grabbed one of the pipes that lined the wall. "Woah woah, hold on, you're putting me in an interrogation room? I told you, I don't know anything, I'm not a criminal." Unless I am and I just forgot. I'm always forgetting things, stupid bitch. Who did I beat up this time? Her eyes went wide as she thought of all the possibilities, gripping the pipe so hard her knuckles went white. 

Helena couldn't help a small laugh as she shook her head, waving a hand to calm down the ever-tense woman. "No, no. We've got someone in there, it's protocol that we have someone in the observation booth. Usually I don't care, but this one's supposed to be dangerous so I need you in there in case something goes wrong and I need backup." 

Eliza nodded slowly as the situation was explained, finally letting go of the pipe and taking a calming breath. "Right. Well, what are we waiting for, let's get in there." She managed a weak smile and shouldered past the agent who had quickly gone from jovial to annoyed again. That tended to happen around her. "So we just walk in and…?" Eliza stopped at the door, tapping the metal surface.

"Interrogate a highly dangerous suspect? No." Helena shook her head and fished a set of keys out of her jacket pocket, sliding them into the lock and popping the door open. The opening let out into a narrow corridor made entirely of white tile not entirely dissimilar to a mental hospital. In front of them were two unlabeled doors as if they were tasked with guessing which door led to the booth. Luckily the agent seemed to have them worked out and led Eliza into the booth. 

Inside was sparse and dirty, the back wall was lined with shelves and filing cabinets that were overflowing with various papers and tapes. Beneath the one way mirror was a large desk packed with various recording and microphone equipment, along with a stack of files a mile high. The linoleum floor was covered in scuff marks that looked like they hadn't been buffed out in decades. The whole room gave off an air of 80s procedural drama. "This is where you want me to stay? It smells like old fish." Eliza wrinkled her nose, the smell doing nothing to help her headache.

"Yeah, Leon thought it would be funny to put a mackerel in the vents a few days ago. Don't worry about it, look…" Helena approached the desk, "if I get in trouble, hit this button here. It'll page security." She pointed to a blue button on the wall behind the desk, its surface worn and faded from overuse. "You might have to press it a few times to get it to work, just hit it until you hear the tone from the computer." She turned her attention to the microphone, tapping the receiver. "If you need to talk to me, hit the speaker button on this, but try not to need me. This is important." She spoke almost as she would to a child and if Eliza felt less awful she would be offended. 

"Yeah yeah mum, I got it. Let's get this over with so I can go back to bed, yeah? That jail cell is starting to sound really nice right now." Eliza took a seat and cracked her knuckles, staring at the dark room beyond the window. She could almost make out the shape of someone sitting at the table in the middle of the room, but not enough to figure out exactly who they were dealing with. "Who is this person anyway?"

"One of the Umbrella operatives you and Claire were in a shootout with. Actually, we wouldn't even have her here if you weren't there, apparently you shot her in the leg when she tried to run. Good work." Helena patted her on the back and grabbed an unlabeled file off the top of the tower before heading to the door. "Remember, blue button if I get in trouble." She called back over her shoulder just before the door shut behind her.

Eliza furrowed her brow, turning to face the window. "She gave me a gun while I was drunk? I should never have fucked her, she's crazy." She muttered, laughing to herself as she waited for something to happen. The clock said three minutes had passed since Helena had left, but it felt like it had been an hour. Finally the lights flickered to life and Eliza was forced to squint. Despite wanting to look away, she'd been given a job and she'd be damned if someone was going to accuse her of not finishing something she started.

The woman who sat on the opposite side of the table took her breath away. She was far and away the most beautiful person she'd ever seen, the short and messy hair that looked so much like her own, the scars that mapped her face, the piercing blue eye and the triple-banded patch that covered the other. If Eliza wasn't so enraptured with her face, she was certain she'd be terrified at the power she seemed to radiate. Even the cold and even expression on her face suited the uniform she wore. If Eliza were in a bad situation, she'd choose this woman to protect her over any fictional hero, and then take her back to her flat and stay in for days. "Holy shit." She whispered to herself, checking her mouth to make sure she wasn't drooling.

"Finally, someone shows their face." The woman carried a heavy accent that Eliza couldn't quite place, but nonetheless it left her speechless, every aspect of the woman in front of her was enough to send her mind on a wild fantasy. 

Helena took a seat across from her and set the file down. "Sorry to keep you waiting." She flipped open the file but didn't look down. "Just to make sure, you're Camilla Falkanger, Swedish immig—"

"Norwegian."

Helena paused, glancing down at the file for a moment, "Norwegian immigrant." She corrected herself before continuing, "Enlisted with the U.S Army at age 18, awarded a purple heart in 2005, joined the U.S.S until the company collapsed in 2007. Do I have that right?"

"Yes." Her answer was curt and she barely seemed to move, simply rattling her cuffs behind her back for a moment before going quiet. Her face barely moved as she tracked Helena's every move with a calculating glint in her eye that put Eliza on edge in more ways than one. 

"Good." Helena seemed unfazed and set the file aside, folding her hands on the table and staring into Camilla's good eye. "How about you tell me who you're working for and why you're in U.S.S gear 13 years after Umbrella went under."

"No." Her response was just as short and she seemed unconcerned by the question, running her tongue along her lower lip in a way that had Eliza's mind running off without her.

"This'll go a lot faster if you cooperate, miss Falkanger. We can keep you here for as long as we want." Helena's voice carried a tone of warning to it, as if there were an underlying threat that Eliza wasn't picking up on. 

"You're DSO, I know all about what you can do. I'm not telling you." Her determination was clear in her voice and it was obvious that she wasn't going to budge.

Helena sighed and stood up. "Maybe a few more hours will change your mind." She stood up and made for the door, bringing the file along with her. 

"Aren't you curious about why we were there?" Camilla spoke up, this time without a prompt as she watched Helena in the corner of her eye.

The agent stopped with her hand on the door handle and turned around, staring hard at the operative who was still sitting stock-still. "Is that something you're willing to tell me?"

"Yes."

Helena returned to the table, sitting down and leaning back. "Then I'm all ears." She motioned for the prisoner to continue. Taking the initiative, Eliza woke the monitor up and hit the record button after searching for a moment.

"We were deployed to eliminate an individual formerly associated with Umbrella, Jordan Nolan. She's been manufacturing homemade BOWs and we were supposed to put a stop to that." For the first time, she showed a flash of discomfort before continuing, "She appeared on our radar again when she resurfaced here looking for someone."

"Someone?" Helena leaned forward on her elbows and quirked a brow. "Do you know who this someone is?"

Camilla was silent for a long moment before nodding, "Ingrid Hunnigan."

I don’t care what she did. She’s beautiful.

I.H

“Finally.” 

Hunnigan breathed a sigh of relief as she reached the parking lot of the DSO headquarters, parking haphazardly in one of the spaces closest to the door and peering out the window. Thankfully, Leon seemed to have kept his promise and was standing at the door with a hand on his hip holster, watching her car intently. Gathering up her items, she turned the car off and stepped out. “It’s just me, I’m alone!” She called out across the parking lot.

Leon relaxed slightly and met her halfway to the door, glancing back at the street repeatedly. “Good, let’s get you inside. Helena can explain everything.” He seemed uncharacteristically on-edge, grinding his teeth as he watched the nearly-empty roads, clearly expecting something to jump out. He rushed her inside and into the elevator across the lobby, brushing past Marina—the receptionist—and nearly shoving Hunnigan into the elevator. Only when he hit the button did he allow himself to breathe. "Are you alright?" He turned his attention to the woman in the elevator with him, checking her over for wounds. 

"Leon, I'm fine." She held up a hand in a silent gesture for him to back off and leaned up against the wall, watching the numbers on the digital panel tick up. "Do you want to explain to me what's going on here? Why are those things back?"

He raked his hand through his hair at that, breathing out sharply through his nose. “Look, Helena will deal with it, okay?” Leon snapped, causing Hunnigan to jump a bit. He seemed almost angry about something, but about what she wasn’t certain. The rest of the ride commenced in a tense silence as neither dared make a sound. When the elevator finally dinged and the doors slid open, Hunnigan nearly ran into Leon trying to get out. Whatever had him in this mood couldn’t be good.

The office was alight with activity, agents scrambling between desks, making phone calls, and cleaning their guns. A handful of men she recognized as delegates from the BSAA were grouped in a corner, discussing something amongst themselves. The entire room was hectic but quiet, and thankfully nobody seemed to notice her state of dress. She contemplated going for the spare set of clothes she kept in the locker room before meeting Helena, but this seemed more important than her dignity at the moment. 

She approached her girlfriend’s desk, glancing at the unusual mess. Sure, it was never exactly clean , but the reams of papers and stacks of files were a rare sight. It took a moment for Helena to notice the visitor, but she relaxed noticeably once she did. “Oh thank God.” She whispered, jumping out of her chair and skirting the desk to pull Hunnigan into a tight embrace. “You’re safe.” She stated, sounding half like she was comforting herself. “Look, we need to talk, but uh…” She looked down at Ingrid’s outfit, quirking a brow. “You should get dressed first. The locker room’s on the way to where we’re going anyway.”

“Don’t make me wait any longer, Helena.” Hunnigan called after her lover as she began to walk off, but it didn’t seem to stop her. If anything, she started moving faster. With a resigned and exasperated sigh, she jogged after, avoiding the constant stream of agents that were walking through the corridor of desks. By the time she caught up, they’d already reached the elevator and were stepping inside. “Helena—” She grunted as she dove through the closing doors, steadying herself against the wall and turning to face the agent. “Helena, I need to know what’s going on. ” Her voice was stern as annoyance bubbled up in her chest. She’d waited long enough.

“Yeah, yeah.” Helena nodded, nearly out of breath. “Look, it’s a long story, but here’s what you need to know…” She began recounting the events of the night prior. The shootout at the parking garage, the reappearance of Eliza, the Umbrella operative in the basement—and the return of Jordan. Hunnigan had expected it, but it still made her feel sick to hear it. If there was one thing in her life she could’ve gone without, it was having to deal with that woman ever again. She didn’t care about the mystery, she didn’t care who the ‘bad people’ were, and she didn’t care how or why she was making the monsters she was. She just wanted to forget.

But that wasn’t an option now.

“So where are we going? Why are we going down there, shouldn’t we be mobilizing?” Hunnigan glanced up at the floor counter on the elevator panel. “And why are the BSAA here, isn’t this a DSO operation? Jordan isn’t threatening any foreign countries, is she?” Her tone was slightly dry. The thought was ridiculous, such a frail woman having any power to threaten someone outside of the United States, let alone an entire country. Even with her monsters, it was out of the question.

“You did hear me say that Umbrella is back, didn’t you?” Helena’s voice was tense and stressed, just like Leon’s, though this was far more familiar. She had been on the look out for Jordan ever since the steel mill, clearly worried that Hunnigan would be taken again. It had been getting better recently as it seemed more and more unlikely she would resurface, but now that the impossible had come to pass it all came flooding back. “They don’t care about Jordan, they care about Falkanger. They’ve got an agent in there questioning her right now, but we’re going to have to cut that short. We need Jordan’s location, and she knows where that is.” She elaborated as the doors opened and she stepped out into the hallway. “Come on, I need someone in the booth with me and Eliza’s making friends with Claire.”

“You let Eliza in the booth?” Hunnigan raised a brow at the back of Helena’s head as they made for the locker room. “And she didn’t set off the alarm first thing?” 

"Oh come on, Hunnigan," Helena chastised, though the laugh in her voice betrayed her, "Eliza's crazy but she isn't an idiot. If anything she's too damn smart."

"Do I have to worry about losing you to her?" Hunnigan teased with a smirk. She wasn't serious, even a little. The two had been through enough together that it would take a flame hotter than Leon thought he was to melt the bond they shared. Besides, she was reasonably confident that she could outsmart Eliza if it came down to it. The woman was a steel mill technician, after all.

"Oh please, she pisses me off more than the Franklins with those speakers. If I tried to get her in bed she'd probably just forget my name and try to fuck me with a wrench. No thanks." Helena threw up her hands. "Besides, you're much better at fucking me with a wrench."

Hunnigan laughed quietly as they turned the corner to the locker room, pushing in through the door to the women's half. The inside was quiet and empty, all the agents were likely already geared up. That, and the DSO currently had very few female agents on hand. "What's gotten into Leon, why is he acting snappy?" She threw the question over her shoulder as she input the combination to her locker, popping it open and collecting the spare set of clothes she kept inside. 

Helena sighed wearily, running a hand down the side of her face. "He was supposed to check out the parking garage last night but he was too drunk, so he pawned it off on Claire. He hasn't stopped complaining about how it's 'all his fault' that agent Hawke took a bullet from Falkanger.” She seemed exhausted by the whole thing, clearly tired of hearing about it. “If only I’d been there!” She mocked in a whiny voice, following her words up with a groan and slumped back against the lockers.

"He must be really beating himself up over it. Is Hawke okay?" Hunnigan shrugged on the dark button down over her t-shirt, attempting to hide the fact that, for all her foresight, she forgot to keep a spare bra in the locker as well. 

"He's fine, just took a bullet to the arm is all. Garrett gave him a patch up, but…" She raised her eyebrows, "you know Garrett, he might've just been better off digging the thing out himself. 

Hunnigan snorted and finished dressing herself, stuffing the sweatpants and flip flops into the locker. "Before you ask, yes. Those are your pants. I wasn't really paying attention last night." She smoothed out the shirt and trousers with a soft sigh, making sure everything was properly buttoned. "Come on, I want to talk to miss Falkanger."

Hopefully she can help me. Us.

H.H

"Come on, hurry it up." 

The BSAA agent nearly tripped on the door frame in his rush to leave the interrogation room. When he was finally out of sight, Helena shut the door behind her. Camilla sat in the same spot, looking rather worse for wear. Her posture had degraded slightly since the last visit and she was paler than before. Helena could swear she saw a slight shake but it may well have been her imagination. Still, the soldier remained ever stoic, even if her body betrayed whatever pain she was in. The agent turned her attention to the window, taking a seat at the desk and watching the proceedings like a hawk to ensure Ingrid was safe.

Hunnigan sat down on the near side of the table, her back to the mirror. Her hair was still dirty and unbrushed from last night, wherever she'd spent it. Still, she'd stubbornly put it up in a bun, even if it looked messy. "Before we start, I'd like to confirm your identity." She began, flipping open the file. Helena smiled with a slight shake of her head. Even after all the rounds of questioning, she still had to make certain of the basics. "You're—"

"Camilla Falkanger," an accented voice snapped over the sound of a growl, "born in Norway, joined the U.S Army, purple heart, U.S.S. I've been over this six times with you fucking lapdogs, I'm not saying it again." It seemed that the woman was beginning to break, that cold and emotionless mask had slipped away to let free an angry outburst. "In fact, I'm not saying anything until you let me eat. I've been locked in here for six hours, I haven't eaten in eighteen. Bring me food, then we'll talk." 

Hunnigan glanced back to the mirror at that with a questioning look. The lack of food had been a logistical oversight, lost in the scramble to get organized after these new revelations. The effects weren’t bad, though, it seemed the operative was finally ready to stop giving one-word responses. It did explain why she looked so ill, though. She reached out and pressed the speaker button on the microphone, leaning forward, “We’ll put in an order for some food if you answer Agent Hunnigan’s questions.”

Camilla tilted her head up at that and lifted a brow. “Agent Hunnigan. You’re the one the subject is after.” The anger was gone now, replaced by that ever-indiscernible coldness that had stonewalled them up until now. There was a silence in the booth as the two exchanged looks before Falkanger relented and slumped back in the chair. “Fine, ask. But I’m not going to sell my employers out. If that’s what you want, I’ll starve.”

Hunnigan shook her head, “No, that’s not what I want to know.” She was going off-script, but Helena trusted her enough not to intervene. “You were willing to give up information about Jordan before. We want to know everything you have on her, and then maybe we can cut a deal to help you. Because with this list of charges…” She flipped open the file in front of her. “Twenty counts of murder of a federal agent, seven counts of terrorism, thirteen counts of murder in the first degree… I could go on. You’re looking at the federal death penalty, Miss Falkanger. We can help get that reduced.”

Surprisingly, the woman laughed rather loudly, shaking her head. “Spare me, you’re DSO. You don’t have any incentive to live up to your promises. I’ve dealt with you fuckers before, you operate at discretion. The only way I’m walking out of here if I talk is praising Big Brother and waiting for the bullet in my head in some corner cafe.” She leaned forward, tugging on her cuffs. “No, I have a proposal for you, Ingrid Hunnigan.” She cut off the agent who went to respond. “I never finished my op. Nolan is still out there, and people are still in danger. Not that I expect you to give a shit.”

“Miss Falkanger—” Hunnigan attempted to cut her off, raising a hand to stop her, but the soldier didn’t much seem to care, simply barreling through the request.

“So, DSO, here’s my proposal. I am prepared to give you two things. Nolan’s location, and a list of names my organization has pertaining to members of the Family.” She let that hang in the air for a moment as if she could predict it would silence the conversation. “ If you let me complete my op alongside your agents, and you hand me over to the FBI for prosecution.”

Helena shook her head, a well of anger bubbling up inside of her. The request was ridiculous, and by the way Hunnigan tilted her head it seemed she understood that. She knew what the operative had done, or at least what she was suspected of doing. Seven different federal agencies had been bombed over the course of two years, thirty three people had died and even more had been wounded, and at all those sites, Falkanger had been identified.

“You know I can’t abide that request, Miss Falkanger.” Hunnigan kept her cool better than Helena ever could. “You’re too dangerous. Letting you out of those cuffs, giving you a gun no less? It’s out of the question.” She shook her head, closing the file. “It seems we’re at an impasse once again. I’ll come back later and see if you’re more willing to cooperate.” She stood up, tucking the file under her arm and making for the door. 

“I suppose you’re ready to be hunted your whole life, then?” For the second time, Camilla stopped someone at the door. “The last time was a fluke. If the Beaton girl hadn’t been called in to check on the machines at the mill, Agent Harper wouldn’t have ever found you. Nolan learns from her mistakes, she’s not going to do something like that again. Me and my people are the only ones in the world who knows where she is right now, and I’m willing to give up that information for a small price. Hell, I’m offering assistance .” She glanced down at her feet, and then at the mask and helmet on the table. “But, if you would rather keep running from her, praying for some fluke to give you another shot at potentially capturing her,  then by all means, Agent Hunnigan. Walk away.”

A tense silence hung over the room, both behind and before the glass. Ingrid stood at the door, hand on the knob, for several moments before turning around, staring down the operative. “I know Jordan. I spent months with her. She can barely draw a picture, let alone articulate anything. She’s not as intelligent as you say. She’ll slip up.”

Camilla shook her head, another grin splitting her face. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with, DSO. She doesn’t know how to talk to people, but she knows how to think. How do you think she’s been creating those monsters of hers without a steady supply of Tyrant? She’s intelligent, not socially, not emotionally, but mentally. She’ll learn from her mistakes, she’ll adapt to her mistakes, and she’ll outplay you at every turn. We’re the only ones she can’t account for.”

“And what about this list of names? Why would you give up something like that?” Hunnigan sat back down in the chair, bringing a slight panic to Helena’s chest. She wasn’t actually considering this, was she?

The soldier shrugged one shoulder. “They won’t be happy I gave it away, but I’m not dealing with them now. I’m dealing with you. Besides, it’ll be fun to watch you fed bastards tear each other apart when I start naming names.”

"And how do I know I can trust the information you give me?" Hunnigan locked her fingers on the table. Helena hoped to God that this was some sort of negotiation trick, because she may well have gone as crazy as Eliza if they honored whatever deal was about to be made. 

"Because it's a thumb drive with evidence attached, if that's not enough I don't know what is." Camilla was beginning to look irritated as the hunger no doubt went back to her head. "Look, you've heard my offer. Accept it or don't, but remember the consequences on your life, on the life of Agent Harper and the Beaton girl."

A silence once again descended over the room and Helena’s heart pounded in her ears. The pure shameless, unrepentant attitude of the monster in the room in front of her to ask for such a concession was enough to make her want to speed up the process of the death penalty with the gun on her hip, but she knew it would only get Hunnigan in trouble. She prayed as hard as she could that she’d hear the answer she wanted, and then…

“You have a deal, miss Falkanger. We’ll let you in on the operation and hand you over to the FBI.” The words sent Helena’s heart into the pit of her gut and she had to keep herself from screaming into the microphone as she watched Hunnigan stand up and walk around the table, unlocking the handcuffs. Instead of attacking, Camilla simply flexed her wrists and stretched her back. “But I expect the information now.”

The soldier stood up, arching her back and groaning as it popped several times. She took her sweet time getting comfortable before she finally responded. “I’ll give you the list of names now.” She popped open one of the pockets on her belt and produced a small, black thumb drive. “But I’m not stupid. As soon as I tell you where Nolan is, you’re going to lock me in a cell and go there yourself. I’ll ride along with one of your trucks and give them directions.” Hunnigan seemed displeased, but had nothing to say at the moment. “Oh, and I’ll have pineapple on the pizza.” She seemed to make eye contact with Helena through the glass, sending a chill down her spine.

“I’ll need to keep you cuffed until we’re onsite, I’m sure you understand.” Hunnigan held up the cuffs, hanging off her finger by the chain. “We’ll take you to a cell until we’re ready to leave, your food will be delivered there."

Camilla nodded and held out her hands in front of her, willingly allowing herself to be restrained. She pulled on the chain for a moment before nodding some quiet satisfaction, letting her arms hang in front of her. "Make certain you bring those with you." She nodded to the helmet and gas mask resting on the table. "I'll need them to operate efficiently."

“I’ll make sure.” Hunnigan gave halfhearted reassurance, clearly no happier about this than Helena was. “Let’s go.” She pulled the door open, motioning the woman out into the hall. Helena followed after from the booth, and the look Camilla gave her was icy and bone-chilling. The eyepatch certainly didn’t help lessen the intimidation factor, but for a moment Helena had to wonder what it looked like underneath. “Helena, get Leon to order the pizza. I’ll talk to you upstairs.”

Helena grit her teeth in response, refusing to speak up. She was happy with nobody in front of her right now, and didn’t trust herself not to lash out. Now was not the time to get into fights with her girlfriend. They parted ways silently and she stomped down the hallway, flexing her fingers on the way to the elevator. The hallway had suddenly become much warmer and she found herself sweating under the collar. 

The monster deserves to die.

E.B

"How could you like that shite? It's so bitter, it's disgusting." 

Eliza raised the mug of hot chocolate to her lips and took a sip, grimacing as she watched Claire do the same with her coffee from across the break room table. "Seriously."

The redheaded woman raised an eyebrow at that, glancing down at the mug in her hands. "Weren't you drinking straight from a bottle of gin when I found you?" She turned her eyes back to Eliza for confirmation. 

"So?" She shrugged in response, setting down the mug and resting her ankle over her knee, relaxing into the chair. "I like gin, it's good at getting me smashed."

"But…" Claire began to protest but quickly realized it was useless when Eliza raised her brows in challenge. "Where did you even get that, if they kept hot chocolate here Leon would've drank it all." She glanced up at the cabinets, half of which were left carelessly open.

With a smirk, Eliza reached into a pouch on her tool belt and produced several packets of powder, fanning them out in her fingers like a deck of playing cards. "I keep 'em with me in case I get tired, works like a charm."

"Couldn't you just…" She motioned to the packets with a sigh. "Nevermind, it's too early." Claire muttered into her own shoulder, drinking deeply from her cup. Eliza couldn't help but shudder at the sight. She'd seen some disgusting things, but that took the cake. Even the thought of the taste on her tongue was enough to make her scrunch up her nose. 

She turned her nose down and lifted her own mug up to take a deep sniff of the pleasantly chocolaty contents, enough to calm down her overactive mind for just a moment. When she set it back down, though, it all came running back, as it always did. 

One thing kept gnawing at the back of her mind as she ran through the cloud of thoughts in her head, and with Claire sitting in front of her it was becoming harder and harder not to bring up. Eventually, she wasn't able to hold back and looked up. "Why'd you give me a gun?" She broke the comfortable silence and seemed to break the woman out of her own contemplative silence.

"What?" Claire seemed confused. "Because I needed help, I couldn't hold off those soldiers myself."

Eliza shook her head and set aside the mug, drumming her fingers on the table. "I was drunk. I almost shot you." The humor was gone from her voice and she felt a hollowness in her chest. "You shouldn't have done that, so just… next time we get into a shootout, try not to give me a gun." She forced a smile and a laugh, something she'd gotten very good at during times like this. Even the cloudy touch memory of the cold metal in her hand was enough to set her heart beating hard. 

"I… I'm sorry, I didn't know you had a history with them. I used to know someone like that." Claire's voice began to mirror the sadness in Eliza's.

A silence fell for a moment before Eliza dragged her mug back to her, a smile returning to her face. "Don't worry, I'm not really coherent when I'm drunk. Hey, did you see that babe in the interrogation room." She leaned forward and raised her brows, skipping from one topic to the next effortlessly. "I'd testify in a courtroom if she promised me an up close demonstration of those soldier's fingers, eh?" She reached across the table to nudge Claire's arm, rousing her from her thoughts with a laugh. 

"I don't really go that way, I prefer someone like Leon." She shook her head and went to take a sip of her drink before realizing what she'd said. "Not that I'm after Leon. God no." Her correction was slightly desperate, but Eliza couldn't tell if it was denial or some attempt to convince herself. She could never tell with people who liked men. 

"Ew. His hair looks awful." She shook her head, polishing off the contents of her mug and tossing it into the sink. She didn't much care if it shattered, she'd pay if it did. 

"Leon's hair?" A new voice popped in from the door and Eliza glanced up. The woman was a completely new face, her voice accented almost like Camilla's. "It looks terrible, someone should really tell him."

"Oh trust me, plenty of people have tried." Claire spoke over her shoulder with a grin. "How are you doing today, Marina?"

"Same as always." She shrugged, bracing the clipboard against her forearm. "Leon is ordering pizzas for the agents, what do you two want?" She tapped the pen idly against the plastic surface, reminding Eliza of the click of factory machines. Without realizing it she fell into a trance, tapping her foot along with the rhythm until she realized the two women in the room were staring at her. 

"Huh?" She shook her head clear of the fog. "Pizza, right. Umm…" She trailed off, trying to remember what she liked. Eventually, she decided just to wing it. "Ham. And...bacon?" The question drew an odd look from the other two but the new arrival wrote it down anyway. 

"Right. One double pepperoni and one… ham and bacon." Marina gave a look to Eliza in question, giving her a chance to change her answer. The two simply stared at one another until the woman backed out of the room silently.

"She's weird." Eliza raised her brows and relaxed in the chair, running a hand through her flat and dirty hair. 

" She's weird?"

"Yup." She clearly missed the point of the question, puffing her out her cheeks and blowing out a slow stream of air from between her lips. "I'm bored." Almost as quickly as she'd relaxed, she jumped up. "What's there to do around here, do they have a bar?"

"Weren't you just complaining about a hangover an hour ago?" Claire narrowed her eyes as if she were the forgetful one. 

"I rebound fast." Eliza shrugged and rounded the corner of the table, heading for the door. She heard Claire grudgingly stand up behind her and follow. She knew the woman had been sent to watch her, they had to stay for a few more hours until the director showed up to ask questions. It wasn't like she minded the company, though. 

"...on your guard around her. Leon, I'm going to need you to watch her at all times on the way. Hamlin, Orion, I want you geared up and watching her on site, don't let her leave you for a second , understand?" Hunnigan was standing in the middle of a ring of agents in the center of the office area. Everyone in the office seemed to be present and paying rapt attention to the briefing. 

"You guys gettin' an orgy going in here?" Eliza cut in with a smirk and watched as all eyes turned to look at her, some amused and some not so much. "Cause you might wanna open some of these windows first."

"Miss Beaton." Hunnign sighed and stared hard at the woman for a moment. Whatever intimidation she was going for was completely lost on Eliza and she simply stared back until she continued. "I'm briefing the agents on an extremely dangerous operation, if you would let me continue?" She sounded like a teacher handing out a reprimand, but it simply rolled off of Eliza's back.

"What, with that…" She trailed off, her nearly non-existent filter catching her words. If she admitted she desperately wanted to tear the vest off of Camilla in front of agents of the DSO she might land in hot water later down the line. "Operative in the basement?" She finished quickly, barely missing a beat. "Sure, count me in, I'm down for another adventure. What's the target?"

"Oh no no no." Helena walked up from somewhere behind Hunnigan, "This is too dangerous, more dangerous than the steel mill. I'm not letting you get yourself killed." The way she spoke sounded almost motherly, but Eliza knew better. She didn't give a shit, not that much, at least. She was trying to look responsible in front of the team. 

"Oh sure, just leave me here. Alone. In the DSO HQ with nobody to watch over me. That'll probably be fine." She crossed her arms with a smug grin, certain that she'd caught them off with that. 

"Claire, please stay with Eliza until we're back." Hunnigan cut in almost immediately after Eliza stopped talking, sucking all the air out of her ego. 

"You got it." Somewhere between Eliza making a scene and now, Claire at showed up at her side and threw an arm around the grumpy woman's shoulder. "I'll make sure she doesn't break anything."

"Good." Hunnigan nodded and turned back to the group. "We'll gear up and head out as soon as we eat, we've all been up for a long time and we'll need the energy. I expect to see everyone in the garage by three sharp and ready to move out, got it?" The agents nodded and mumbled their understanding. "Use the time to check your gear. Hamlin, Orion, dust off the tactical gear and make sure everything still works." The two in question, a pair of blonde-haired men that looked to Eliza like identical twins, saluted and started for the stairs. 

She watched everyone break away from the group and caught Helena and Hunnigan having a hushed and heated conversation at Helena's desk. Her heart sank as she realized she wouldn't be a part of this one and she heaved a sigh, giving a side glance to Claire. 

After everything, I'm being left out. Bastards.

I.H

"I can't let you do that!" 

Helena was clearly on the verge of screaming, keeping her voice just low enough that none of the other agents would take notice. "You've dealt with this before, I'm not going to let you go in there and risk your ass after all this." 

"It's not your decision to make." Hunnigan responded calmly, crossing her arms over her chest. "Besides, we need every agent on deck to make sure Falkanger doesn't try anything, I'm not going to stay behind and put your life at risk because I might be uncomfortable seeing Jordan again." She appreciated the evident concern that Helena had for her, but she was far too afraid of Camilla trying something—anything—that might hurt Helena. 

"Ingrid…" She began, but quickly trailed off, taking a deep breath and running a hand through her hair. "You haven't been able to sleep right for weeks, your episodes are getting worse. Can you even handle this?" Hunnigan felt a pang of something in her chest, anger was certain but there was something else. Acknowledgement. She knew Helena was right, there was a chance she'd cause more problems than she'd solve by being there, but she couldn't let this go, not this time. 

"Do you remember the first few months after we got home?" She stepped back and leaned against Helena's desk. "You were jumping at shadows, more than I was, even. It felt like every time I left you were just waiting for a call to tell you I was gone again." Helena's face softened at that and she nodded. "It was because Jordan is still out there, she's still a threat to us. I need— we need—to see this through, once she's gone… once she's gone we don't need to worry anymore, you don't have to be afraid of me disappearing again."

A silence descended over their little corner and Hunnigan watched her lover's face as she processed the words. Eventually she took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay. I trust you, Ingrid. Just be safe for me. Please."

” She leaned forward and took Hunnigan’s hand, staring gently into her eyes. 

“I promise, Helena.” She ran a thumb over her knuckles and pushed up off the desk. “There’s a lot of paperwork that needs to be done, I need to get it done before we move out. Once the pizzas get here, make sure Leon takes hers down there. I know this whole thing isn’t… ideal. But we need what she has.”

“I can’t believe we made a deal with her.” Helena sighed, turning her eyes to the floor and shaking her head. The pain was evident in her face and Hunnigan felt a strange guilt over having made the deal. It was necessary, though, no matter what Helena felt about it. A list of names and a chance to finally get rid of the threat of Jordan once and for all was enough to justify it.

“I know.” Her voice was somber, “I wish there were any other way.”

But there isn’t. Not to keep us safe.

H.H

“Alright, everyone huddle up!”

Helena stood on the hood of the armored truck, calling the group of agents to order. It had been a long time since they’d all been deployed at once, and it showed in the chaos. Nobody was used to having to operate with such a large group, and if they were smart they would’ve called in the BSAA to deal with the problem. But, at Hunnigan’s insistence, they’d grudgingly geared up.

Agents Orion and Hamlin flanked Camilla, who’s marred face was now covered by the signature mask and helmet of the U.S.S—one of her many stipulations. Hamlin carried a large bag on his back, no doubt loaded with the operative’s weapons, and Orion had a hand on her shoulder, ensuring she wasn’t going anywhere. Leon was shooting occasional dirty looks in their direction, but, surprisingly, she wasn’t causing any major disruption. 

“Listen up, this is the only time we have to go over this. We have no idea where we’re going, so the teams need to follow the lead truck.” She stomped her foot on the hood of the vehicle she was standing on, drawing their attention to it. “Operative Falkanger will be giving us directions on the way, and will then assist us in clearing the area. Hamlin, Orion, agent Kennedy is with you and Falkanger.” He’d requested the position, and she was inclined to let him have it. If anyone would find a way to make Camilla’s life harder, it would be him. She finished passing out team assignments, three agents per in the rather large group. “Once we’re there, stay on your guard and be ready for anything. We have no idea what we’re walking into, and there’s a good chance BOWs will be involved. Remember protocol, and stay safe.” The speech was very much not her style, but there was more riding on the line here than usual and she found herself more willing to be by-the-book.

As the group split to their respective vehicles, Helena approached the group with Falkanger. “Come on, I’ll be riding along with you four. Load her up.” She jerked her head toward the truck, falling in step with Hamlin and Orion. Three sets of loud breathing could be heard, filtered through the gas masks each were wearing, echoing through the cavernous garage. The asymmetrical clicking and wheezing sounded like some horrible creature that would come back to break her. Her eye drifted to Falkanger and caught the red glint off of one of the lenses. The monster was right there with them, she realized.

She popped open the van’s doors and motioned the two agents inside, shutting it behind them as they disappeared deeper into the truck. “Come on, you drive.” Helena tossed the keys to Leon, who caught them wordlessly and rounded the corner, vanishing from her sight. He seemed just as on edge over this as she was, and he didn’t seem any happier to see an Umbrella operative than her either. Even so many years later, the incident in Raccoon City was clearly fresh in his mind, she’d seen it before in the way he acted and spoke any time it was brought up. She didn’t blame him for his hatred of the woman in the back.

Helena climbed into the passenger’s seat, shutting the heavy door behind her with a loud thud . From the glove box she produced a GPS unit, flipping it on and checking the battery display. Once certain it was charged, she leaned into the back of the truck and offered it to Camilla. “Since you can’t see out the window we’ll need you to give us directions using this.”

The operative took the GPS and quickly familiarized herself with the consumer interface. Eventually, she looked up to Helena, staring for a moment. "What street are we coming out on?" Her voice was filtered through the mask and felt far colder for it. Leon's knuckles went white as he gripped the steering wheel, clearly trying not to lash out. 

"St. Helen's." She ignored her partner for the moment, turning forward again and settling against her seat. 

"Left, then right at the intersection." The response came almost immediately, as if she'd memorized it by heart. Her eye never left the screen, and she barely responded as the truck shifted gear and lurched forward. 

The garage door opened automatically on detecting a DSO RFID in the truck and allowed them access to the road. A quick check in the rearview mirror told Helena that the motorcade of agents were following in suit, and then they were off. 

After a brief respite, the snow had begun falling again, though far less intensely than the night before. Only brief glimpses of the midday sun could be seen through the thick gray cloud cover that streaked rays of yellow through the air and shimmered off the snowflakes. Far in the distance the clouds broke up and allowed rays of light through, mixing with the clouds and coloring the sky a vibrant gold. It was a sight she didn't often see, and the surreality of the colors added an odd spice to the gnawing fear in her chest. 

The mission they were embarking on was dangerous. Not the most dangerous she'd ever been on, certainly. Maybe before Simmons, before Deborah and Tall Oaks, but not any more. No, this wasn't as dangerous, but to Helena's mind it was more dangerous than ever. Hunnigan was there, not only to face the object of the trauma that plagued her but in the perfect place to be shot in the back by the terrorist that rode along with them, guiding them to what could well be a death trap—or worse, an ambush. It took all of her willpower not to rip the gun from her holster and remove the threat altogether, but there were some fates worse than death. A federal maximum security prison came to mind, likely the same one Camilla would be going to if she had her way. 

It was clear what she was doing, and it was clear just how clever she was. Prove herself useful and cooperative, then leverage herself into the custody of a more accountable agency, one that would be inclined to offer leniency for her collaboration with the DSO. Anyone with half a brain could see it, nearly everyone they brought in had tried it. She, though, was one of the first with the brains to back it up, and Helena couldn't see them getting around it.

The drive continued in relative silence, broken only by the occasional muted squak of the scanner and Camilla's harsh and accented voice calling out directions. The more they drove the further they traveled from the city until eventually it was nothing but a backdrop to the trees to be occasionally glimpsed through a gap on the way up the winding hill that was leading them to their destination. It had been 20 minutes since Camilla had stopped giving them directions, and it could only be assumed that whatever they were searching for was at the peak.

Finally, after nearly an hour, the road tapered off to a gravel driveway. The building that stood before them was deeply unimpressive, what appeared to be an old diner that had been abandoned for years. The panels that lined the roof had begun to peel away, consumed by rust, and the humid air had given way to lichen and mold in ugly splotches on the murky windows. The place looked like it hadn't been touched in decades, even the parking lot had begun to be reclaimed by the grass around it. "What the fuck is this?" Helena muttered, pushing open the door and stepping out into the cold air. While her windbreaker kept the harsh breeze out, she still shivered at the cold that pierced right through the thin fabric.

As she rounded to the back of the truck, she realized too late that she hadn't ordered Orion and Hamlin not to let Camilla free until age explained. By the time she reached them, the operative was already unbound and looking over the shotgun they'd confiscated from her. Helena instantly found herself on edge, but the passive stance of the woman told her that nobody was in any present danger. As soon as Helena went to speak, Leon cut in front of her, his face a mask of rage. "This doesn't look like any sort of place to run a BOW operation out of. What's your game here, is this some sort of trick?" His demands were harsh and it looked like the only thing holding him back from attacking the woman was Helena's presence. 

Camilla turned her eye to appraise Leon for a moment before responding in that filtered voice, "Looks are deceiving." She slung the shotgun over her shoulder and began for the diner without leave from her handlers, leaving them to play catch up. Helena noticed a considerable limp in her step, but it barely seemed to slow her down. Even with the numerous weapons that had appeared in the various slings and holsters in her gear, she acted nearly unhindered.

Without even pausing to check the area, she pushed through the door into the structure proper. The inside looked even worse than the outside. The checkered tiles were laced with cracks and caked in dirt and moss, dusted with a light snowfall that floated in through the numerous holes in the roof that gave way to the muted light behind the clouds. Most of the tables had collapsed under the weight of wood rot and only the metal posts that held them up stood, clinging on to small chunks near the center. The seats weren't any better, covered in mold and eaten full of holes by rats and moths. The whole area smelled intensely of earth, as if they'd stepped into some self-contained forest with its own ecosystem. What surfaces there were barely had any dust left, the old fibers and cells left behind by the last visitors swept away by the elements long ago. Camilla continued walking, treading over roots and blades of grass creeping between the cracks. The four followed her all the way back to the kitchen, forced to use their flashlights to see past the intense blackness. 

For a moment, Helena's heart jumped into her throat when she realized that they'd lost the prisoner, beginning a short but frantic search that ended as soon as it began when the degrading and yellowed lights flickered on overhead with considerable effort and the operative appeared from behind a rusted freezer unit. Helena stepped forward, trying to calm her racing heart. "Tell us before you disappear like that, Falkanger. Next time we won't be lenient." She tried to act as intimidating as possible, but it was difficult to do as the woman ignored her and started deeper into the room. 

"Are you listening? Get back here!" Leon shouted after her, breaking into a jog to catch up. Helena rushed after him, uncertain if she intended to end a fight before it started or watch the one that was about to happen. What she found, however, was neither. 

In the back office, Camilla had pushed away a handful of filing cabinets from the wall along a distinct line of grooves in the carpeted floor and appeared to be working at something in the wall with her knife. Intrigued, both Leon and Helena watched as she popped away a panel hidden in the drywall and leaned down to slip the knife back into the boot on her bad leg. Helena's heart sunk instantly at seeing that. They hadn't confiscated a knife. 

The sound of crackling electricity sparked from the panel the operative was working on. For a moment it seemed nothing would happen, but when the wall began to shift with a deafening screech on its rusted hinges, it became far clearer what it was they were dealing with. "As I said, looks can be deceiving." She repeated, approaching the stairwell that led down into a well-lit, if exceedingly filthy, hallway. 

"What are we looking at here?" Leon voiced Helena's thoughts and both pairs of eyes turned to lock with the cold, emotionless red lenses of the mask before them. The woman behind it was silent for just long enough for them to think she was going to refuse an answer before she finally spoke up.

"You'll figure it out. You're good at that, officer Kennedy." Her words brought a rage to Leon that Helena could feel even as he stood behind her.

The answer was expectedly vague and unsatisfying, but judging by the look of the place it was the most promising lead they had. "Fine." Helena sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Come on, we need to brief the team."

E.B

"You know, they're out there having all the fun without us."

Eliza sat with her feet kicked up on Helena's desk, staring out of the large window and over what parts of the city she could see through the snow. It had picked up since the agents had left and whatever sunlight had remained was now smothered under the clouds. "It's so boring here even the director guy isn't showing up." She leaned in her chair until she was far enough back to look at Claire behind her. "You wanna go fuck with Hannigan's office yet?"

"Hunnigan." Claire corrected for the umpteenth time that day. "You're really bad with names, you know that?" There was no malice or irritation behind the words, simply amusement and a smile. She was one of the most pleasant people Eliza had ever been around, even if that wasn't saying much. 

"Names are bullshit. Just dumb words." Eliza huffed and dragged her feet down, spinning around to face her new companion in boredom, who seemed to be playing on her phone. "Where's that director already, I miss the fuck out of my bed, I want to go sleep in it." Her voice was whiny like a child's but her desire to sleep in a proper bed outweighed any shame she might have felt. 

"You think he's out for Christmas and Helena just...forgot?" Claire looked up from what was clearly a game of Candy Crush , even if she obviously didn't want to admit it. 

"You're right. Let's fuck off home and if he really wants to talk to us he can just send his sexiest agent to escort us back." She smirked, pushing up out of her chair with a groan. "No idea where my truck is though. Probably got towed again. I guess I could jack one of those DAO rides out there or something." Eliza thought out loud, stretching hard and wincing through several loud pops. 

"Or I could drive you." Claire hit the power button on her phone and stood up herself, slipping the device into her pocket. "Which is, you know, less illegal."

"Ugh." She grumbled, glancing at the non-existent watch on her wrist. Ever since she'd lost her old watch almost ten years ago she'd been forgetting to buy a new one almost every week. "Boring. But fine, I could probably do without that holding cell again. I think they fill those mattresses with aerogel, it feels soft in all the wrong places." She smirked, waiting for the reaction she knew would come. It never did, instead eliciting a blank and confused stare. With a sigh, she started for the elevator. "Nobody ever gets that joke." She muttered, shaking her head. 

The office fell silent as the two approached the elevator, the lights humming strong overhead and the only sound the occasional whirring of computer towers. 

And then it all went dead. 

The office was thrown into complete darkness, the only saving grace the rapidly fading light through the clouds outside that barely illuminated their path. "Fuck! That damn snowstorm!" Eliza kicked the nearest trash can, sending it and its contents spilling out over the floor. "Come on, we gotta take the stairs."

She turned toward the exit door when a hand on her shoulder stopped her cold. "Did you hear that?" Claire whispered, and then it all went quiet again. Eliza strained her ears to listen but could hear only the sound of the snow against the windows. She took a breath to make some snarky comment when she heard it, and her blood went cold. 

Ding.

I.H

"Was that the elevator?" 

Hunnigan nervously picked at her fingernails as they slowly descended in the dilapidated elevator car. Even from the outside the thing looked like it was on the verge of shattering just from the weight of its occupants alone, and the occasional groaning and creaking noise wasn't helping calm her nerves. 

Ingrid was with the first entry team, consisting of Orion, Hamlin, Leon, Helena, and—of course—Camilla. The other agents had come in behind and split off into smaller teams to sweep the other areas of the structure that they still hadn't identified. The place looked just as broken and rotted as the diner above them, and any identifying features had been steadily worn away by age and elements. The prisoner wasn't of much help either, and refused any to give information about it. 

The elevator finally ground to a stop and they began filing off, first watching Camilla and her handlers step off, then Helena. 

However, when Hunnigan took a step forward, the entire car shook violently. "Fuck!" She and Leon shouted in unison. She rushed for the door and was nearly out when a deafening snap struck her mind and suddenly they were falling. With only a split second to react, she grabbed Leon and threw him to the floor before dropping like a sack of potatoes, spreading out her limbs. The screeching of the elevator against the walls of the shaft was boring right into Hunnigan's skull and just when she thought, she might go deaf, the car impacted the floor and she felt like she was a pancake beneath the force of the sudden stop. Everything stopped at once and she took a moment to take stock of herself. Nothing seemed to be broken, and she was mostly certain all her internal organs were in place after the fall.

"You good?" Leon's shaky voice brought her back to reality and she nodded, holding out a hand in a silent request for help. He happily obliged taking her hand and pulling her to her feet with minimal effort. She steadied herself and looked around the compartment. From what little she could see through the slightly ajar doors, they had landed on some sub level of the structure that was completely unlit. "Hey, is your radio working?" Hunnigan glanced back at her partner, who was holding his ruined walkie talkie with a pout on his face. The entire front panel seemed to have been smashed in the impact and the antenna had snapped off. 

"Uh…" She searched herself for the radio but found nothing. The last she'd checked, it had been clipped to her belt, but it seemed to have vanished. "It's… gone?" Her question was answered almost as soon as it was asked when the sound of crackling static and Helena's panicked voice came from somewhere down the hall. "Or not. Do you have a flashlight?" 

Leon produced a small LED light from his jacket pocket and looked it over, experimentally clicking the button on the back. When nothing happened, he sighed and shook his head. "Busted. This is turning out well." He sighed, brushing past Hunnigan and climbing out of the elevator. She followed close after, standing near the door and waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness.

The going was slow but the sound of the occasional static kept them on track, growing closer with each step. How the radio had gotten so far, she wasn't sure. There was nowhere for it to go. The hallway was narrow and featureless, every once in a while there would be a twin pair of grates on the ceiling and floor, blocking off some unseen drainage area. Just as the rest of the facility, the walls were covered in rust and dirt, as if maintenance had stopped decades ago. 

Hunnigan nearly ran into Leon when he stopped in his tracks and she looked around to try and catch what made him pause so abruptly. It took a moment for her to realize what it was, but when she saw, her heart seized and she had to keep herself from screaming, pressing a hand hard over her mouth. 

In the middle of the hallway was what looked to be an emaciated woman, tall and lanky like the Stilties. Its naked skin was covered in filth and scars. In its gnarled, clawed hand, it clutched the radio against its face, now crushed beyond function. Its eyes were empty sockets and its mouth was a carved and jagged smile that spanned the otherwise featureless space between its cheekbones. After a moment's silence it flexed its jaw almost imperceptibly and let out a blast of static, followed by Helena's voice. "Ingrid, Leon, come in! Goddammit!" It was a dead ringer, it sounded exactly like Helena right down to the crack in her voice that came when she was afraid. Hunnigan felt like vomiting, but when she shifted her foot to step back the thing snapped it's head to look dead at her and it felt like it could see even without eyes. "Ingrid." It spoke in Helena's voice again like a snippet of the radio message and she felt a chill run down her spine. "Leon." The word echoed through the hall and she saw her partner let out an involuntary shiver.

She reached out as carefully as she could, laying a gentle hand on Leon’s shoulder to draw his attention. As he turned his head to look at her, she pointed at the door to her right. It was slightly ajar, just enough that a sliver of light slipped out from the crack. He nodded and took a step back, taking care to control the fall of his foot. The creature seemed not to notice, and so she followed suit, holding her breath in her chest until it hurt. Blindly, she reached out behind her and felt for the door, wincing as her hand nudged it. Luckily it seemed to have escaped the degradation that the rest of the facility suffered from and glided open without any resistance or noise. As soon as she was certain that it was open enough for them to slip through, she did just that, releasing her breath in the safety of the lit room. Leon followed soon after and braced the door against his hand, pushing it shut as slowly as he could. By the time it clicked in place it was already too late for the thing to react. 

Now that they were safe, Hunnigan took a moment to look around the area they'd stepped into. It looked like some kind of security room, and judging by what could be glimpsed beneath the filth, it had been quite a nice one. The monitor panel on the wall still flickered with life, though the cameras had long since fallen into disrepair and were, for one reason or another, completely nonfunctional. Some of them still ran, but their lenses were covered in filth. Occasionally she could see a flicker of movement between the cracks, but not enough to discern precisely who—or what it was. In the chair at the desk lay a dessicated corpse, sunken and leathery flesh hugging its skull. In the back of its head was a bullet hole, rimmed with flaky, brown blood. On the far wall to the room was another door that led somewhere unknown, but neither were ready to take that path yet. 

“Are you alright?” Leon asked for the second time that day, glancing nervously at the door behind which lay the monster that had come so close to taking them. The sight of the thing was worse than Hunnigan could’ve imagined, worse than the monsters she’d seen Jordan puzzle together from the parts she would haul into the ‘laboratories’ in bags. Even her main staple, her ‘children’, the Stilties, had not been violated as heinously as whatever poor creature now stood out in the hallway, speaking in the voices of the people it’d heard like some sort of twisted mockingbird. 

“I’m fine.” She lied, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves. Now was not the time for a breakdown, Helena was stuck with Falkanger and may well be in need of their help. She could handle herself, certainly, but a U.S.S operative with a gun was either a pitiful or petrifying display, and Camilla’s survival made her think she was the latter.

Jordan’s children were no longer the most dangerous things in the facility.

H.H

“Fuck, no!”

Helena screamed as she watched the elevator fall. Her heart sunk to her gut and she ran to the edge, gazing over. The crash didn’t come very long after, it was entirely likely that they’d survived. They had to have survived. It was Leon and Hunnigan, they always survived. She could feel herself panicking and she turned to the remainder of the group. Not only were they now trapped inside with no assistance, they had been separated.from one-another. “We’ve got to get down there and help them!” Her voice betrayed her panic and began to crack.

“The target is this way.” Camilla jabbed a thumb over her shoulder deeper into the facility. The cold bite in her voice didn’t surprise Helena, but she was still appalled that even someone like her could be so heartless.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” She pushed between Orion and Hamlin, closing more distance between her and Falkanger than she likely should, but the anger bubbling in the base of her skull was telling her to throw logic out the window. “Ingrid helped get you here, she’s the reason you’re not starving in an interrogation room waiting for someone to deliver a summary execution order!” She began to shout, suddenly not caring what heard them. “The least you can do for her is make sure she’s alive!”

“The mission will be compromised by deviation.” Camilla began and Helena felt a new wave of anger roll through her and set her nerves on fire. She opened her mouth and prepared to scream when the crackling of the operative’s voice silenced her. “But if the life of two agents is more important to you, the passageway to the maintenance area are near the target’s location, it’ll be safer than climbing down the elevator shaft. Besides, Agent Kennedy can handle himself for a few minutes while we make sure the target doesn’t escape.”

That information calmed her, but only slightly. Camilla’s voice was clearly irritated and it only proved that this was simply a manipulation to get her way. As soon as they returned, Helena would recommend reneging on the deal to the director, legality and technicalities be damned. She didn’t deserve to walk out. “Fine.” She spat, quite literally. "But you'd better be on your best behavior or I'll shoot you myself. Get your ass moving, and keep your weapon where I can see it."

Camilla didn't so much as shrug in response, simply turning on her heel and beginning deeper into the facility. The hallway was far cleaner than the upper level, the walls were shiny and unmarked and the windows that allowed a view into the various rooms that lined the hall were clear enough that Helena half expected to see the floor littered with dead birds. She could gather enough from the contents of the rooms that this was some sort of lab, but what kind she wasn't certain. Despite the harsh light of the fluorescents above and the well-maintained facilities, it had no doubt been abandoned as the fragility of the elevator attested. 

Camilla approached a large door that lacked any visible way of opening. There were no keycard panels on the walls or handles to pull, simply a seam down the middle of a pair of onyx-black rectangles. For a brief moment she thought they'd walked into a dead end before a soft chime echoed through the halls and they slid open. What was likely supposed to be a voice crackled through a speaker in the corner of the ceiling, but it appeared to be severely damaged and simply spit out a series of incomprehensible clicks and whirs. 

The door opened into a large, open room that shifted from a sterile white to reflective, industrial gray. The vast space was dominated by shipping crates and loading equipment, among which were large tanks likely used to contain humans or some other similarly sized creatures. The fine coat of dust, visible even from a range, told Helena they hadn't been touched since the place was abandoned. On either side of the room were a similar set of doors, and directly ahead the floor opened out into what looked to be the primary lab area, though she couldn't see much. 

With the wide sight lines and not a soul visible, they followed Camilla further into the room. "The target will be through the primary lab floor, likely. There's an offshoot into the maintenance area there that you can check if it's so important." She explained as she walked, clutching her shotgun tight to her as if she were enjoying her last mission with it. "It—" She was cut off by an ear-piercing scream that seemed to come from all sides at once. The group formed into a tight circle and watched the space around them. Nothing, not even as the clicking began. 

For a split second, Helena heard a box opening next to her, but before she could react she felt the cold brush of gunmetal on her cheek. 

And then everything went white. 

Her ears rang and she could vaguely hear the rumbling of a scream in her chest. It felt as though her brains had been scrambled and fried, unable to piece together a coherent thought. Her name, her face, where they were and who was with her. She could hear the muffled and distant sound of gunshots and screams, both nearby and far away at the same time. 

Her mind slowly reordered itself and by the time she came to everything had gone dead silent. She pried her eyes open and looked around, realizing that the action hadn't stopped. Camilla stood a few feet away, a Stiltie pinned under her boot. When she fired, it sounded muffled, like she was hearing it through the brick wall of a building across the street. 

Helena realized she was laying on her side, the cold floor pressed against the right side of her face. She peeled herself off and sat up shakily, taking stock of herself. Everything seemed fine, she was intact. Until she felt the trickle of warm fluid down the side of her head. She reached up and ran her finger through the stream, bringing it away a deep crimson. It took a moment for her to process it, but it all clicked when she heard Camilla's boots on the steel floor, but only in her right ear. "What th—" She cut herself off as soon as she started to speak, disoriented by the sound of her voice only registering in one ear. "What the fuck happened?" She swayed a bit as soon as she propped herself up, feeling a bit sick. 

Camilla didn't answer, as expected, so she took stock of the situation herself. Several crates had been smashed open, revealing a downright filthy interior. Nearby, Orion and Hamlin lay in mingling pools of blood, chests ripped open to reveal their shredded organs. Neither were moving. The creatures must have been hiding in the boxes, waiting to ambush anyone stupid enough to just walk in. 

It dawned on Helena suddenly that it was only her and Camilla in the room, and the gun she'd been holding was no longer in her hand. She whipped her head around to look in the direction of the operative, only to find an outstretched hand in front of her. In confusion she turned her eyes up to stare into that cold and emotionless mask that haunted the dreams of so many former Umbrella employees. The mask of the woman offering a helping hand. 

Tentatively, she took that hand, ignoring the blood that was now drying on the side of her head and neck. She still couldn't hear, though the searing pain had subsided rather quickly. The two stared at one another for a moment until Camilla broke that gaze and looked down at the corpse of the BOW on the ground next to Helena. "I'm sorry." The words hit her like a truck, even if she couldn't hear them quite as well. The woman offered up an apology of all things. It occurred to her that the shot that deafened her was likely from Camilla's weapon, spent saving her life.

Helena didn't respond, taking her hand and pulling herself up. For a moment she found herself relying on Camilla to stay upright before she found her legs, drawing a steadying breath. The operative offered out the pistol she'd dropped in the chaos and without a second thought, she took it. Her gaze was piercing and icy. Why shouldn't it be? The efficiency with which she'd handled the Stilties with a disregard for Orion and Hamlin only proved she was dangerous. A hand in friendship only made it easier to put a bullet in her back when she wasn't looking. 

"Let's go, we still have a mission." Helena unclasped her radio from her belt, pressing down the button on the side and raising it to the good side of her face. "Base, this is agent Harper. Orion and Hamlin are dead and the elevator collapsed. The prisoner and I are going to see this through, but we need someone to work on getting us a way out. Do you copy?" She released the button. 

"Copy agent Harper. We'll have EMTs on standby."

Helena returned the radio to her belt, spinning on her heel and starting for the lab area. She could vaguely hear Camilla's footsteps behind her on the floor. She seemed infuriatingly unaffected by Helena's cold brush-off of the apology. The woman was an enigma she just couldn't crack. 

They stepped through the threshold into the lab. On the floor were several of the tanks, no doubt once holding some long forgotten test subjects. Consoles, computers and lab equipment linked the tanks like an intricate web of expensive electronics, all of which looked to have been abandoned in the middle of an experiment. 

None of that was what Helena was looking at, though. 

On the wall above everything, illuminated by spotlights, was something that sent a chill down her spine. 

"It's—"

E.B

"And that!"

Eliza screamed as she drove the head of the wrench into the pulverized skull of what used to be a Stiltie. Both she and the walls were covered in blood and viscera, slowly dripping down. She didn't care, though. A bit of blood and brain matter never hurt anyone. Mostly.

"Jesus." Claire muttered, dropping her arms to her side and letting the revolver hang from her fingertips. "Are you alright?" Her eyes tracked between Eliza and the monster, watching the gore slip down the walls of the office and pile on the floor at the base. "Are you okay?" 

Eliza jumped up, her work boots giving her near perfect traction on the wet tile. She was glad she wore them everywhere, they'd saved her life on more than one occasion. She used the back of her sleeve to wipe away some of the bone fragments and blood from her face, leaving a clean streak through the spatter. She probably looked a sight, but she didn't care. "Course! That was fun." She held up the wrench and examined the dripping surface. When she noticed the pin was bent she frowned, cursing the thickness of the human skull. That would have to be fixed. "Any idea why these little shits are here, at the NSA HQ?"

"It…" Claire sighed, rolling her eyes. Eliza caught it, but she didn't care. She was used to it. "I have no idea why they're here. You were a part of it, right? Rescuing Hunnigan? Do you think they’re here for you?”

Eliza shrugged, glancing at her wrench again. Poor thing. “Maybe. Probably. I don’t know, I can’t hear whatever weird mind control shite they’re running off of. We should probably leave though. I still want to go home. You have any idea where the stairs are?” She looked around the office, 

“If I had to guess, probably near the back of the office.” Claire motioned for Eliza to follow her through the dark room. The sun was rapidly fading from the sky and soon it would be pitch black, and for all her gadgets and gizmos she never remembered to put the batteries back in her flashlight or to charge her phone. They picked the pace up to a slow jog until they eventually reached the back end of the room. Sure enough, the emergency stairs were tucked in a back corner, away from all the action. It didn’t seem terribly safe, but that wasn’t either of their concern right now.

Eliza shoved her way to the front and pushed the door open. Sure, Claire had the gun, but Eliza had the wrench. The stairwell inside was illuminated by dull red emergency lights, barely enough to see in front of them, but sufficient. The stairwell seemed empty enough. “We’re good, c’mon!” She shouted back to Claire, who she noticed was actually just standing right next to her. “Oh.” She blinked. “We’re good, c’mon.” She repeated, making for the stairs.

“I heard you the first time.” Claire laughed and double checked her weapon behind her. How Eliza knew, she didn’t know. It was hard not to notice those things sometimes, even if other times she found herself constantly confused by what was happening around her. It was both a blessing and a curse in equal measure. “What’s your plan here, exactly?”

“Go to the lobby, leave the lobby, get in a car, go home.” She shrugged, peering over the railing of the stairwell. Nothing seemed to be there, nothing that she could see anyway. If they had somehow become invisible, they were totally fucked, but that was a bridge they’d cross when they came to it. Assuming they could see it. 

“Shouldn’t we wait for the others to get back? If these things are around here we should warn someone.” The voice echoed through the stairwell as she seemed to drop her pretense toward being quiet.

“We’ll leave a note. Or call them, I don’t know. I’m tired, I don’t give a shit.” She shrugged as they reached the final flight of stairs. Eliza leaned into the push bar but found that the door wouldn’t budge. It didn’t seem to be locked, but something was definitely on the other side. “Hey, little help here?” She called over her shoulder.

“Oh, sure.” Claire approached and leaned her weight against the door. Together, the two of them pushed as hard as they could. Eventually, the thing on the other side flopped over onto the ground and slid across the floor with a wet noise, allowing them entrance into the lobby.

The sight that awaited them was not one Eliza was keen on seeing. Two people were tied up at the receptionist’s desk. One looked to be a parking lot security guard, and the other was the receptionist, Marina. Near them stood a pair of Stilties that flanked a tall, barrel chested man in a suit. He clearly was not alive, but at the same time, he was. His skin was pale and his face was sunken, his eyes had been sewn shut and his hair was shaved off. 

Oh, and there was a chainsaw attached to either hand. 

“What in the living—” Eliza was cut off when the thing revved its hand-saws, roaring so loud that she felt her chest vibrating. When the noise quieted down, she shouted over the revving of the chainsaw. “Fuck!” She finished. “Come on then, fatarse!”

She stepped forward, brandishing her wrench. “Woah woah woah!” Claire ran up next to her, wrapping a hand around her wrist and pulling her back. “You’re going to fight that thing with a wrench? ” She seemed incredulous, as if she were suddenly dealing with a mental patient.

“Yeah, you wanna join me?” Eliza’s face was split with a grin. She wouldn’t lie, she was terrified. Fighting something that large with something as small as a wrench was not a fun idea, but there was no point in being somber about it.

Claire was quiet for a second before she shrugged, raising the gun. “Sure.” Her voice was raised over the sound of chainsaws. Two quick shots in rapid succession brought down the Stilties cleanly, effectively eliminating the thing’s support almost immediately. 

“That was… anticlimactic.” Eliza muttered to herself. She would’ve liked a more entertaining fight if she was about to die, but that fearful part of her said it was a good thing. And it was probably right. 

She rushed the thing head-on with a scream, trying to draw its attention while Claire lined up a shot. It seemed like a clumsy thing, like a machine trying to take her head off with a detached pipe. It had happened before, and just like then, she dodged the whirring blades, delivering a hard strike to its sternum. 

The thing roared again and revved up one of its hands to swing at her, only to find a bullet lodged in its shoulder that sent the arc wide and cut a large gash into the wood panel behind him, cutting the DSO logo in half. It suddenly occurred to Eliza how close they were to the two hostages, who were doing all they could to avoid that carnage.

“Hey, fatarse!” She shouted, drawing its attention away from Claire. “Get over here and fight me!” She was running backwards now, waving her arms and screaming. It took the bait, obviously barely smarter than the average wild animal. For a moment she thought she was smart until she realized she was on a straight course to a support beam. Her heart jumped into her throat as she ducked down at the last second, watching the chainsaw tear the thing straight in half like tissue paper. She took the opportunity to strike it in the gut again, but that didn’t seem to do much more than make it angry. 

“Watch out!” Claire shouted, giving Eliza just enough time to dive out of the way before another shot rang out, this time burying itself in the thing’s back. It whipped around to face the redheaded woman and scraped its foot along the floor like a bull, pausing for only a fraction of a moment before barreling toward her and leaving Eliza in the dust.

Claire dodged out of the way, knocking over a potted plant and firing off another shot. It went wide, ricocheting harmlessly off of one of the chainsaw-hands. By time she’d clambered to her feet, it was nearly on top of her and she was forced to jump back again to avoid another swing of the chainsaw. 

Nobody was outside on the streets still, nobody to witness the debacle or hear the shots. No help was coming. With that in mind, Eliza did the stupidest thing she could possibly think of. Throwing the wrench away, she dug around in her pockets. Finally, she came back with two of the closest things she could find, a screwdriver and a packet of hot chocolate mix. 

There’s always a way, Eliza. Think.

“I only have one shot left!” Claire shouted out and Eilza nodded in response.

“Just keep it busy, I’ve got a plan!”

I need a plan.

She watched the exhaust of the chainsaws and it all clicked. She took off running toward it the thing, brandishing the screwdriver. “Hold your bullet, don’t shoot yet!” Claire responded with a thumbs-up, watching the display from a safe distance.

Eliza ducked as soon as the thing turned around and avoided the swipe of the saw, coming up face-to-chest with the thing. She spun around on her heel, grabbing one of its arms and pulling it closer to her. The thing seemed momentarily confused, just long enough for her to pry the fuel tank open with her screwdriver. She heard the other saw revving up. Driving the top of the tool into the creature’s arm seemed to buy her a moment. With her teeth, she tore open the packet of powder and dumped it into the tank. Only a moment later, the saw sputtered to a stop, the intake clogged up by the gunk. The thing seemed to be confused, instinctively reaching over with its other hand to fix the problem, only to recoil in pain when the saw embedded itself in the bone of its arm.

“Now, shoot it!” Eliza cried out, scrambling away on her hands and knees. She flipped onto her back just in time to see the bullet bury itself in the thing’s eye and send it to the ground, sputtering the active chainsaw to a stop. She grabbed her wrench and jumped to her feet, approaching the thing with Claire at her side. “Is it dead?” She reached out and poked it with the tip of her broken wrench.

Its head sagged to the side. Dead.

Silence fell for a moment as Claire and Eliza shared a look before both of their eyes went wide. “Fuck yeah!” They both shouted in unison, high-fiving each other.

“That was fucking awesome , I knew those would come in handy!” Eliza patted herself on the back as the adrenaline subsided through her veins, replaced by pure excitement. That had, by far, been the coolest thing she’d done in her life and she doubted that she’d ever come close to repeating it.

“I’ve seen some really impressive shit, and that was impressive.” Claire clapped Eliza on the back, holstering her revolver on her thigh. “Do you think the cameras were going?” She looked up at the security cameras hanging in the corners of the room with a wide grin. 

“I sure as fuck hope they were.” Eliza scoffed. That was going on the internet if they were.

The two of them stepped behind the desk and, while Claire untied the hostages and checked them over for wounds, Eliza grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and began jotting down a note. “Don’t… worry about the big monster… dead… call me.” She signed her name incomprehensibly at the bottom and set the paper out on the desk. 

“Oh my God…” She heard Marina breathe out a swear beside her and looked down to the woman. “That thing… that was the director.”

“What?” Eliza furrowed her brow and looked in the direction of the creature again. For all she knew it could be the new Prime Minister of the UK and she wouldn’t recognize him, let alone the director of the DSO. Not only had she just killed a badass monster, but it had been the director of the DSO. She picked up the pen again and scribbled out ‘big monster’ and replaced it with ‘director’. 

“Fuck. Eliza, we really need to stay here. They’re going to have a lot of questions.” Claire tried to reason, but Eliza wasn’t having any of it, waving off the concern. She was tired, she was hot, and she needed to wash the blood off. "No, Eliza, we just killed the director, this just got a lot worse."

“You can come back if you want, but who the fuck knows when they’re getting back here. You’re my ride. Besides, no director, nobody to ask us questions, yeah?” She tilted her head down and did her best puppy dog eyes. “Please?” 

Claire sighed and dug around in her pocket, fishing out the keys and tossing them to Eliza. “Fine, you should get out of here. It’s the green jeep. I’ll come by and get it later. Or… tomorrow. Whenever.”

Eliza smirked, tearing off a slip of blank paper at the bottom of the note and scribbling something down on it. “If you wanted my number you could’ve just asked, y’know.” She chuckled and handed the paper to Claire, who rolled her eyes with a smile. “Catch you later.” She saluted with the keys and turned to head out the door.

That was so fucking cool.

I.H

“—Umbrella.”

Leon growled, clutching the lab coat tight in his hand. They’d found it, discarded along the side of the maintenance access hallway. Most of it had been eaten away at by proverbial sewer rats, but the patch was intact enough for them to make out the company that it belonged to. “I should’ve seen it coming. This has to be a trap, an Umbrella operative sending us to an Umbrella lab?”

“Leon—” Hunnigan tried to calm him down, reaching out her hand and laying it on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off, tossing the coat aside with such force that it made a slapping sound against the wall. 

“Fuck! Helena’s up there right now with that bitch, we need to go now , we can’t let them get away again.” Before Hunnigan could react he began storming down the hall blindly, drawing his gun and clutching it so tight that she was afraid it would go off. It was all she could do not to jump in his way and stop him dead in his tracks. 

“Just—Leon, stop for a minute!” She called out behind him. “Leon!” She repeated herself when he didn’t stop. At the second call he ground to a stop, taking an angry breath and ruffling his hair up. He must’ve been really angry. “Look, I know Jordan, and you know Umbrella. Did that thing back there look like something Umbrella would grow in a tank?” She pointed at the door they’d come from, beyond which roamed the monster they’d so narrowly escaped. “Umbrella might have something to do with this, but if they wanted us dead they’d have sent out something big as soon as we stepped inside.”

“And how do you know they didn’t?” He turned on his heel, staring her down. His glare was icy and she could feel the anger in it. “For all you know, Helena’s Licker chow, or a Tyrant’s turned her into a grease stain. We’ve been stuck in this fucking basement while she’s running around up there with a goddamn Umbrella soldier who’s armed to the teeth, you’re really sure that Umbrella isn’t responsible for this? For Jordan?”

Hunnigan went silent. He made a good point. Too good a point. It wasn’t something she’d considered, even when they’d found the coat. She kicked herself, kicked herself for dallying, kicked herself for stopping him. He was right, Helena could be in more danger than she thought. With Umbrella involved, it was always bound to go to shit. She sighed, feeling that burn in her chest again, the thumping at the back of her head and the heat in her ears. It was coming back, the panic and the fear. “Go, we need to go.” The walls felt like they were closing in on her, the narrow hallway was sucking the breath from her lungs. “Go!” She shouted, shoving him forward. If he weren’t standing in front of her, she would be sprinting down the hall without any regard for what may be ahead. 

The both of them nearly missed the dull ribbons of light that streamed down from the ladder access above them, but when one glided over the back of Hunnigan's hand she realized what they'd just walked past. "Leon, look!" She stopped up and pointed above her, toward the floor grate that served as the ladder hatch. "We can get out through here!"

He spun around and jogged back toward her, glancing in the direction she was pointing. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. L“Good catch. Hold on, I’ll get it.” He brushed her out of the way and began scaling the ladder. 

“Hold on, I’ll get it.”

A voice echoed down the hall and Hunnigan froze, looking up at Leon. By the way he was clutching the rungs of the ladder, he hadn’t just repeated himself. The click of claws came closer and closer. They were out of time. With only one way out, he made it the rest of the way to the top and pushed vainly on the grate, trying to open it. Without much light, it was obvious he couldn’t see the latch. Hunnigan reached into the pocket of her shirt and dug out her phone, gently tossing it up to him. 

He lashed his hand out, only to clip it with the side of his palm and send it falling to the floor again. Hunnigan’s breath caught in her throat and everything went in slow motion. Instinctively, she reached out to grab it, far too early. Her fingers only brushed the surface and sent it toward one of the pipes on the wall. Leon kicked his foot out and shifted its course away, back toward Hunnigan. It flew and hit her dead in the bridge of the nose with a soft smack and she smelled copper, but when she looked at her hands she realized she’d caught the device.

Only then did she let herself breathe. She opened the phone’s screen and input the code, thanking God that she kept it on silent while she was working. She scrolled across the screen to the flashlight widget and clicked it on, shining it up at the grate. Leon turned his eyes backup and searched as carefully as possible for the release. The clicking grew closer and she felt her heart pounding in her ears as the adrenaline rushed through her. If that thing heard even a peep, they’d be dead.

“We can get out through here!”

The sound of her own voice sent a spike of dread right to her gut. She felt woozy, like she was going to vomit again. Agents were trained to withstand psychological pressure, but the sound of your voice and the voice of your loved ones coming from one of the most grotesque things she’d ever seen was  enough to break through the wall of that training and send her mind into the downward spiral it was used to.

“Hunnigan.” Leon’s raspy whisper drew her from her fear and she looked up at him. During her episode, he’d pried the grate open, evidently silently. Unfortunately, the thing was now close enough to be seen, still clutching the radio it was carrying before. Leon hoisted himself into the room above and disappeared from sight, leaving her behind.

She took a tentative step forward, staring at it unblinkingly just as it did to her. It almost felt as if it could see her, but the way it scanned the hall told her she was still safe. For now. She lifted a foot and pressed it to the bottom rung of the ladder, holding back a loud sigh of relief when it made no noise. Slipping the phone back into her pocket, she grabbed on and took the next step.

Her heart seized when the ladder let out a loud creaking noise and the thing whipped its head around to stare directly at her. “Leon!” It screamed in Helena’s voice, louder than before. And then it sprung into action, a terrifying flurry of claws and teeth. She scrambled up the ladder just in time for it to cleave the steel clean in two and leave a deep set of gashes in the wall. There was barely any time to notice as Leon’s hand grabbed her shoulder and pulled her up out of the hole, slamming the grate back down over them. The monster tried to reach them, but it seemed as if it didn’t know how to climb and was simply stuck raking its claws down the cement wall. 

Hunnigan slumped against the nearest wall, holding her head in her hands and drawing several deep breaths in, stopping just short of rocking back and forth and babbling. The panic, the weight on her chest, it was coming back. She couldn’t think straight, everything around her seemed too loud and made her sick, the soft blue light digging into the corners of her vision.

“Hunnigan.” Leon approached her, kneeling down at her side and placing a hand on her shoulder. She instantly recoiled and shook her head, pushing him away.

“Just give me a minute.” She panted, squeezing her eyes shut and taking several deep breaths, trying to focus on herself. Luckily, Leon seemed to take the command and walked off, leaving her alone. The room seemed to be mostly silent, the only noise an occasional clicking from what she could only assume was a console. It was quiet. Mercifully quiet. If it hadn’t been, she wasn’t certain she’d be walking out with her mind intact.

We’re so close.

A voice in her head drew her out and she snapped her head up, eyes wide. She recognized that voice, the only one she’d heard for months of her life, locked away in a cage. How was she there, how was she in her head? She pushed herself up to her feet shakily, looking around the room. It seemed to be some sort of testing lab, the sort that had been under Raccoon City. On the wall above everything hung the logo of the Umbrella corporation, caked in dust but otherwise intact.

“Hey.” Leon called her back to reality with a word. “Are you alright to go on?” His anger and fear had turned into concern. For all he was annoying, he was still a good man. She nodded without speaking, not trusting herself to avoid talking about the voice she’d heard. If she did, there was no doubt that he’d think she’d gone completely mad. 

He opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off when something rang from further in the room.

A gunshot.

H.H

“You need to be up front with me. Now .”

Helena spun to stare down Camilla, partially to intimidate, partially so she could hear. “You knew this was an Umbrella facility, why didn’t you tell anybody? And why are we here?” She knew something was off. She’d known ever since watching her in the interrogation room. This was not a coincidence, there was no chance in hell that it was.

Camilla stared off into the middle distance, her breathing rasping through the mask. She was noticeably leaning her weight on the uninjured leg, the injury evidently taking a toll on her. Helena couldn’t make herself feel bad about it. “How do you think we knew where she was?” The operative spoke up after a moment, drumming her fingers on the railing. “She tripped a dozen alarms breaking in here.”

“So Umbrella still exists?” That admission seemed to confirm her worst fears. It wasn’t surprising by any stretch, they were far more than a pharmaceuticals company by time they’d been disbanded. There was no doubt in her mind that some of them, somewhere, were still running their operation. But a group well-connected enough to still recieve alarms from facilities? Large enough to supply a team of U.S.S operatives?

“I already told you, I’m not telling you who my employers are. Stop asking.” She pushed up off the railing, audibly wincing as she was forced to put pressure on her left leg. “We need to move, she’s in the testing area.” She pointed across the empty room to the pair of large double doors. Anything could be back there.

“Do you think I’m crazy? Any number of your friends could be hiding behind those doors waiting to jump out and put a bullet in my head. I’m calling this mission off until we can get tactical support in here to clear it out properly.” Helena went to grab Camilla by the arm, intending to drag her out. Instead, her hand merely grasped cold air as the woman deftly avoided the grasp. 

“If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead.” She held up her shotgun for emphasis. “You were disabled on the ground, your agents were dead the second those BOWs showed. All it would’ve taken was a shot to the chest. Why, exactly, would I complicate your death if I was just planning an escape anyway?”

“And how do I know you’re not just working with Jordan, trying to pull me in there and turn me into one of her fucked up little caged animals like she did with Hunnigan?” She pushed Camilla against the railing and stared her straight in the eye through the red lenses of the mask. Even now, trapped in what could very well be a dangerous situation, she remained ever calm. It showed in her posture, her breathing, even the glint of her eye. 

“Nolan loves her children more than she loves her friends. If I were working with her, she’d strap me down and pull me apart for killing them like that back there. I know her, and I know she wouldn’t let me go after that.” Camilla motioned to the corpses behind them, the scattered remnants of the Stilties that had attacked. “Now, we need to move . The longer we wait, the more likely it is she finds one of the emergency escape hatches and escapes again. Next time, she won’t choose an Umbrella lab.”

Helena felt a vein in her neck pop out, enraged beyond rationality. The woman was right, there was no logical reason to assume this was all connected, not anymore. She was at the mercy of the operative and not only had she offered to help her up, she’d given her a gun. And still, she couldn’t shake the off feeling. 

She forced herself to calm down, drawing in several deep breaths of filtered and conditioned air. Before she realized it, she was backing off from Camilla and holstering her weapon. “Fine. But you’re on point, if there’s anyone hiding behind those doors, you’ll be the first to go.” She wasn’t shy about her intentions, it was no secret she hated the woman by now, and Falkanger didn’t seem to much care. She simply brushed past Helena and descended the stairs deeper into the lab. For a moment, Helena felt a twinge of guilt. Clearly, the woman was telling the truth—or at least confident enough in her lie that she didn’t care. Either way, she nearly felt bad before realizing just who she was dealing with. Steeling her resolve, she turned and followed her.

The lab floor was eerily silent save for the clicking and whirring of the consoles and computers. Even though Umbrella had been shut down in the late 2000s, it seemed as if the equipment in place dated back to the 90s or even some time earlier. This location clearly hadn’t received much love from corporate. Still, it all seemed far more advanced than Helena could ever hope to understand, and it was possible that swapping the equipment out would have been far too costly to the experiments. There was someone in front of her she could ask, but she wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

Once they’d reached the doors, Helena noticed a small display panel on the side that glowed red. Locked, no doubt. As these doors always were. Her first instinct was to search for something, anything, that would get them in. The body of a scientist tucked in a corner, some keycard forgotten behind a needlessly elaborate safe mechanism, maybe a handful of statues that needed to be rearranged. Her mind raced through all the possibilities.

“Welcome, please remain quiet while testing is in session.”

A voice pulled Helena back to the door, only to find the panel had turned a pleasant lavender color and Camilla was disappearing beyond the threshold. She leapt forward and caught the door just before it shut, stumbling through without much thought to what could be on the other side. Contrary to what she’d thought, there were no laser sights on her chest, no monsters grabbing her from behind, and no Jordan there to drag her to a cage, only Falkanger standing at a desk and typing something in on one of the computer terminals.

The room was small and wide, overlooking what seemed to be an observation area overlooking a cleanroom. Though there wasn’t much to see through the darkness, she could tell it had been absolutely trashed by whatever was inside. In a snap, the lights came on and she suddenly saw the full extent of the carnage. Body parts scattered over the floor, dried blood on the walls, and tanks filled with fluid and floating bodies. This part had clearly been used, and Camilla was no doubt right about Jordan’s whereabouts. “Are we going down there?” She pointed and turned her head fully to the side to look at Camilla, knowing she’d miss whatever she said otherwise. 

“Yes.” Her tone was short as she brought up what looked like a facility map, navigating through the menus and opening several doors remotely. Eventually, a soft buzz carried through the room and the red light above the door to their right flicked to green. “Let’s go, Nolan won’t be far.” She shut down the terminal and took her weapon back from the desk, jogging toward the door and pushing it open, leaving Helena behind. 

By time she caught up with the operative they had entered the decontamination room that preceded the cleanroom. Without any recourse, they were both forced to sit through a mist shower that matted Helena’s hair to her head. On the bright side, it seemed to get rid of the blood that streaked down the side of her face and was beginning to solidify. The doors in front of them slid open and they stepped through side by side.

Inside wasn’t any better than what they’d seen from the observation room. The bodies in the tanks seemed to be undergoing some uncontrolled mutation, covered in bubbling pustules and sacs that occasionally leaked and turned the fluid inside murky before it was sucked out by the filters and replaced. It wasn’t clear if they were alive, but Helena hoped not. 

The whole room smelled like death, a coppery stench of blood and rot hung in the air and the floors were slippery with both fresh and old blood. Not only was Jordan no doubt here, she was here recently. Both of them seemed to share that sentiment as they shared a glance. Helena unholstered her pistol and checked the chamber out of habit. Of course, it was loaded. Pressing her finger against the casing of the gun, she widened her stance and followed Camilla to the door on the other side, allowing the better-equipped operative to take the lead. 

The moment she laid a gloved hand on the door, it burst open and what looked to be a normal zombie stumbled out, roaring and grabbing Camilla by the shoulders. The woman shouted in surprise and tried to throw the thing off, but only succeeded in slipping on the floor and landing hard on her back. It was enough to daze her and her elbows buckled. Everything froze in that moment, Helena had a gun in hand and was aiming straight for the thing. It was just like before, just like China, just like Tall Oaks. One shot to the head would be all it would take to give Camilla a moment to breathe. But did she want to?

She’d given her plenty of reason to ignore it. The bombings of the federal buildings, thirty-three dead at her hand. And yet it was never proven. All they knew was that she had been there, not that she had committed them. She’d saved Helena’s life and refused to kill her, it almost seemed like she cared. It was only fair to return the favor. She pulled the trigger and the bullet grazed the back of the zombie’s head, allowing the operative to throw it off and drive her knife into its skull. 

Camilla pushed to her feet, retrieving the knife and wiping it on her sleeve. There was no thanks, not even a nod or an acknowledgement. It pissed Helena off, but she’d done the same. She couldn’t judge her for it, no matter how desperately she wanted to. “Come on, she can’t be—”

Whatever she was about to say was cut off by a violent force throwing the both of them back against the wall on the opposite side of the room. Helena barely kept her footing as she steadied herself on the filthy wall and snapped her head up to look at whatever had done it. 

There, in the frame of the door, stood the woman she saw in her nightmares. Jordan. All the same as she had been before, the same mint green blouse and stained white apron, the same pillowcase that hid her face crowned by a nurse’s cap. She took a staggered step forward, taking a deep breath. She braced herself, remembering the scream that had nearly deafened her. Instead, she wailed mournfully, a normal wail of normal volume. “Why?! What have you done to him?!” She sobbed, falling to her knees and running her hand over the corpse of the zombie. 

Helena caught a flicker of movement in the corner of her eye and looked up. Someone was in the observation chamber, but she couldn’t make out who as they disappeared through the same door she and Camilla had left through. She kept silent, watching the woman like a hawk. There were bound to be more Stilties nearby, there had been last time. 

“You brought the bad people here and they killed him! Buddy!” She cried, cradling him like a doll. Her strength seemed immense, she lifted the man like he was nothing, and yet her arms didn’t seem it. “Why? Why why why?! I hate you!” She screamed a piercing scream that reverberated off the walls.

“Bad people? Who are you talking about?” Helena took a tentative step forward, clutching her gun. The woman was unarmed, she seemed like she was in deep mourning. Maybe she could be taken alive, maybe more could be learned. “Do you mean Camilla?” She glanced at the operative, who seemed to be in the same stance of caution.

“Them! The masked people! They were with the doctors here, they told me I had to leave! I didn’t want to leave!” Her ramblings were incoherent on the surface, but Helena began to piece together the picture. “She came here to take me somewhere else, I don’t want to go! I want to stay!” Her hands shook as she fell to the ground, weeping into the shoulder of the fallen zombie. “I’ve heard you! Your thoughts! My children are so loud but I heard you, I know you’re here to take me away! Don’t take me, please!”

“Miss Nolan—” Helena began to speak, now intent on talking the woman down. She was clearly distressed and unable to speak properly. It was possible this was all defensive, that she wanted to be left alone. And then it came. The gunshot that ripped through Jordan’s apron and sent her to the ground, bleeding from the chest.

“No!” A new voice accompanied the opening of the door and Helena spun around to see Hunnigan and Leon standing there, weapons in hand. And yet, neither seemed to have been the one that fired the shot. No, the shot had come from the pistol in Camilla’s hand, a puff of white smoke still dissipating in front of the barrel. “Why did you shoot her?!” Hunnigan shoved the operative from behind, who seemed to take it in stride.

“It was my mission. I’ve completed the operation.” She elaborated nothing more, crossing the room and pulling the empty duffel bag she’d been carrying from her back. She packed her weapons away, the knife, the shotgun, the pistol, even her boot knife. It all went in the bag that was promptly zipped up. “I expect you to hold up your end of the bargain. Turn me over to the FBI.” She turned around, holding out her wrists for the handcuffs.

Helena couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She couldn’t believe a lot of things, her brain was still desperately trying to process what had just happened. Where had Hunnigan and Leon come from, why had Camilla shot Jordan? Most importantly, how was she involved. The last question could wait for later, when they were in the interrogation room. The look in Hunnigan’s eyes told her that no deal would be made. There was no evidence of a deal being made, not after the documents would mysteriously disappear. 

“Leon.” Hunnigan began, her voice venomous, low and dangerous. “Cuff her and take her back upstairs. Have the other agents send down an EMT.” She turned her attention to Jordan, kneeling down on the filthy floor and holding her hands over the wound. Even from a distance it was obvious she was still breathing, but only barely, and if Falkanger followed the same M.O as the rest of the U.S.S, the bullet had shattered somewhere inside of the poor girl. 

“Gladly.” Leon’s voice was seething, even if he had no personal stake he clearly knew when someone had done something evil. Something wrong. It was only the icing on the cake that it happened to be an Umbrella operative. He took the offered handcuffs from Helena and slapped them around Camilla’s wrists, grabbing the bag and hefting it over his shoulder. “Get a move on.” He shoved the operative a bit harder than was likely necessary, but nobody protested.

Helena holstered her weapon and made her way to Hunnigan’s side, kneeling down next to her despite the damage it would no doubt do to her pants. She looked over the body of the dying woman, placing a comforting hand on Ingrid’s back. “Are you… do you think she’ll be okay?” 

“I don’t know.” Hunnigan admitted, her voice shaky. Helena know what Jordan had done, she knew about the drawings, she knew about her desire to protect Hunnigan. And after this encounter, she knew Jordan was not the evil boogeyman she’d made her out in her mind to be. She was scared, she was alone, but she was no monster. Not as far as she could tell. 

Helena brought a hand to her damaged ear and sighed. Now wasn’t the time to worry her more. She simply sat, saying a simple prayer to Mary that the woman beneath them would make it, even as the rattling gasps drew slower and slower. “She’ll be fine.” She reassured, though she wasn’t certain of that herself. 

Please be okay .

C.F

Ten steps to the elevator.

Now was the time.

They stopped exactly ten steps in front of it. The rescue team hadn’t come yet. Just on time. She strained her right wrist against the cuffs, her arm shaking as the metal cut into her flesh. She could feel the warm trickle down her hand and into her glove, filling the empty space in the fingers. Pain was temporary. Kennedy had his back to her.

The pin popped with a loud ding . His reaction time would be one-point-five seconds. She swung the broken cuff around and braced the bent clasp against the heel of her palm, grabbing him by the shoulder and driving the sharp end between his ribs. A cry of pain, he was immobilized for a moment. The holster was on his hip, she grabbed the gun and pressed the barrel against his vest. Three pulls of the trigger. The pain radiated through the torn skin on her wrist. He fell to the ground.

“What the fuck?!” A voice. An unknown variable. She lifted her weapon and fired, three times. Two in the chest, one in the head. Agent Smithson, with the rescue team. Bad timing. The elevator escalated again, no doubt to bring more agents in. She tossed the weapon aside and took the bag, slinging it over her shoulder.

They wouldn’t honor the deal. The DSO never did. She turned and ran in the opposite direction. One door, two doors, three doors. Pair six, she rolled up the sleeve on her uninjured hand and scanned the access bracelet. 

Welcome, Staff Sergeant Falkanger .

She ducked inside, shoving the couch aside. Doctor Yu’s office, the site therapist. Refused to leave during the evacuation, she was forced to pull the trigger. She pried up the vent grate and dropped her bag inside, following close after. She pulled the bed back into place, then the grate. It was dark inside. Expected. She picked up the bag and clicked on her flashlight, picking up her pace to a jog.

Three steps per second, it would take three minutes and twenty-one seconds to reach the end of the hallway. Her blood dripped behind her, but they knew her face. It didn’t matter. Three minutes and twenty-one seconds. She ascended the stairs on the other side, pushing up through the grate in the maintenance access area. Her handgun was in her bag, she retrieved it. High caliber, hollow points. 

The maintenance tunnels, something was in here. She could hear it. Behind her. She whipped around and fired. Three shots, center mass. One of the BOWs made by the target. It dropped, the radio falling from its hand. She turned around again, picking up the pace and moving faster. Four steps per second. 

Her helmet had a built in radio, a new addition, after the Collapse. Nobody knew, they didn’t think to check. “Overlord, this is Delta-10. Requesting extraction at site DC-12. LZ is compromised, requesting new RZ coordinates.” 

Silence. Static.

"Delta-10, we thought you were compromised.”

“No.” She shook her head into the open air. Thirty steps left. “It’s under control. Requesting new RZ coordinates ASAP, heading south-southwest.” She repeated herself. Fourteen steps. 

“Hold, Delta-10.”

Silence again. She reached the end of the tunnel and hung a right, pushing through a blank section of wall. It slid open easily. The elevator had three buttons, one up, one down, one center. Up. She holstered the pistol and pulled her shotgun from the bag. Seven shells left on the side, four in the barrel. It was enough. 

“Delta-10, pickup is at the drive-in, extraction is in ten minutes. Be there or we’ll bug out without you.”

“Copy.” She spoke into her radio as the elevator dinged, opening into blackness. Dead ahead. She pushed against the wall and it swung open into the kitchen. The agents were on high alert now. As expected. One stood between her and the back door. She fired at her leg, severing it at the knee. She reached into her kneepad and returned with a worn silver key. The lock clicked open and let her out. The key was discarded in the dumpster, no need for it now. 

The forest was in sight and she disappeared into the trees. The DSO wouldn’t be far behind. Her blood had clotted now, no more dripping blood. No trail to follow. No limping, no matter the pain. It hurt, it burned, but limping would slow her down. The helicopter flew overhead in the direction of the drive-in. 

Three minutes until she arrived. Six until the extraction left.

Plenty of time.

H.H

One Month Later

“How are you doing, jackass?”

Helena strode into the hospital room, depositing the requested McDonald’s bag on the bedside table. She wasn’t technically supposed to have it, but when she flashed her badge they let her through. They always did. With a sigh, she sunk into the most comfortable chair in the room, leaning into the plush and relishing the feel.

“Not too bad, beautiful.” Leon winked and sat up with a wince. “They said it’ll be a few weeks until I’m out still, some complication with the surgery but it’s nothing too bad. And hey…” He pushed the blanket off and wiggled his legs. “It worked, didn’t it?”

The bullets had left him temporarily paralyzed, a bullet lodged in the spine that they couldn’t get out without major invasive surgery that had to wait until he had mostly recovered from the ordeal. “Well, look at that. You’ll be out prowling the streets in no time.” She smirked and crossed her legs.

“What about you, still disabled?” He dug into the bag and pulled out a handful of fries, stuffing them all into his mouth at once and chewing them loudly. It was a deliberate attempt to annoy her, but she didn’t care at this point. A month of near daily visits was enough to desensitize her to a lot of his antics. 

With a soft sigh, she snapped a finger next to her left ear. Nothing, just like the rest of the month. “Yup. The doctors keep stonewalling me. On the bright side, I know what ear surgery is called now. Or...sino…” She struggled for a moment, trying to recall the word. Eventually, she muttered the rest of the word before finishing strong with ‘ology’. That got a small laugh from Leon. “Shut up.”

A comfortable silence fell as he dug into his food and Helena half-listened to him chewing, lost in thought. It had been happening quite a lot lately, she’d find her mind wandering away from her. Eventually, he spoke up, suddenly more somber. “What about Jordan?” 

Helena grunted and sat up. “Hunnigan still hasn’t let go, she’s trying to leverage the doctors into moving her to a better care facility until she wakes up. I don’t think it’ll happen though, they say she’s mostly being kept alive by the machines now.”

“How are you two doing?” He followed up almost immediately, the questions getting heavier and heavier with each second. Helena was sick of talking about it, she talked about it with everyone now. Claire, Eliza, even her own mother. There wasn’t any point in lashing out though, not at Leon.

“We’re fine. Being director takes most of her time away, and with all her visits to Jordan…” She trailed off with a sigh. It was hard without her around, too hard. Many nights she’d come home well after midnight and fall asleep immediately. “But we’re not separated, we’re not fighting, and we have weekends. So there’s that.” She smiled weakly.

“And Eliza?” 

“Still hanging out with Claire, sometimes they all come over with Chris to annoy us. I swear, that friendship is the worst monster Jordan created.” She laughed fondly at the thought of the visits, while Eliza was by no means her favorite person, she was starting to grow on her. 

Still, there was one thing hanging over the room, one thing they hadn’t discussed. It had been a week now, after his time in recovery. He was desperate to know, she could see it in his eyes, but he didn’t want to ask. While she hated to be the bearer of bad news, someone had to tell him. “There’s been no word on Cam—on Falkanger yet. She’s gone again.” 

The air was sucked out of the room as Leon looked down at his lap. It was obvious he saw her escape as a personal failure. That made two of them. Helena had been over it with herself a thousand times. If only she’d seen it, if only she’d let that zombie kill her, if only she’d gone with Leon, maybe Smithson wouldn’t be dead and Rin wouldn’t be missing her leg. If only if only. 

She sighed quietly, getting comfortable in the chair. She was determined to track her down. They all were. There was an unspoken agreement between them, between all the agents at the DSO. Camilla had harmed them, harmed so many of their own. If they had to chase her to the ends of the earth they would.

Nobody fucked with them. Not anymore.