Nighthawk thought on Hunk’s statement- too large a company, not enough management, and the management there was was either incompetent, negligent, or uncaring, or any combination of the three. It was a fact he knew well, and something that he took advantage of, “borrowing“ the MEDEVAC chopper to do extraction.
“Tell me about it,” Nighthawk replied, taking his own boots off, “UBCS had shit pilot rotation before I transferred over. God, it’ll be shit going back and being the only pilot flying USS West…”
He rubbed his face and pulled dark curls out of his face. He looked over to Hunk. He was processing something as he stared up at the ceiling. Not sure exactly what, but the issue of Raccoon City had irrevocably brought Umbrella to the spotlight.
Despite the coverups, and all the PR work, the people of America just couldn’t fathom the government turning a missile against its own people. A death toll of over 100,000.
The President was being pressured to resign. Hawk was certain he would before November.
He sighed as he looked around the room. It was smaller than the hotels he was used to. The beds were smaller, the room was painted a deep green, the lamplight cast shadows into the stucco ceiling, and cast the landscape portraits in a yellow glow. He hadn’t even inspected the bathroom yet. He was sure the Europeans did something weird there but he couldn’t remember what…
He stood up. He wasn’t tired. The showers kept him up on adrenaline, and the coffee sustained it- plus it was already four in the morning with two- maybe three hours until dawn, and they were in a new place after foiling an assassination attempt.
“I’m not sleeping,” he declared, “You can rest fine, I’ll keep watch.”
He paced around getting a feel for the layout, making note of everything there. Nightstand, window, chair, beds, drawers, closet.
What would he do, when Umbrella went under?
It was a thought that seemed almost… alien. Umbrella had been around as long as he could remember- and had no end in sight. But now, with the bad PR, and Congress pulling their weight around to shift blame back on to the company…
On top of the already bad management of the US Branch, and the splinter factions within turning on each other… the question wasn’t if Umbrella would fall, but when.
He turned off the lamplight, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness and letting Hunk’s eyes rest.
What the hell was he supposed to do- or any of the USS for that matter? Everyone, himself included, were pulled from life sentences and executions. Nobody wanted them. And they were expendable. He had no house, all his personal belongings were either on base, or stored in a safe. All his money was divided between personal savings and looking after his mom and siblings.
They’d be fine at least. One comforting thought. Mami was in a good place, with the house paid off, and all his siblings were married with kids, save his baby sister, but she was engaged. They were taken care of…
Which put Hawk in the uncomfortable position of having to look out for himself now.
He was in a different position from Hunk, he was certain. Hawk wasn’t loyal to the company beyond what was necessitated. He was loyal to his commander- but God knows where she was, where his team was…
Hawk had an existence outside of the company. Minimal, but he had connections. Hunk… he couldn’t picture doing anything else. He also had a reputation of being wholly loyal to Umbrella.
When Umbrella fell, he’d be the worst off for it.
He walked over to the chair, sitting himself up, scanning between the windows and the door- getting used to the patterns of the shadows cast from the light outside.
“Do you think it’s all caught up to them? The company?“ He ventured. Not quite treasonous speech, “What with the lawsuits and stuff going on?“
He knows it. It’s a lesson coming a decade old. Spencer was the rise and the fall of Umbrella. After him, it’ll fall apart completely and whatever was going to burst out of the ashes was going to be worse. Umbrella spawned half a dozen millionaires on the corpses of hundreds of thousands of people. Raccoon wasn’t the pinnacle of the death toll, not even close. All people like them; prison expats. Hawk, he guessed, hadn’t been in the system as long as he had. Most people hadn’t.
“It was going to happen.”
This game’s easier for people like Nikolai. Nikolai has no problem cannibalizing his own units. It’s not common knowledge but he’s proud of what he does under the pretense of “my life is the only one that matters”. He likes killing. Couldn’t even be honest about that, could you? When the ball drops, Umbrella’s going to eat itself like the snake it is, and take everyone with it. The USS? He doesn’t know what will happen.
Back into prison? Maybe for those that still had records. He didn’t. No, they’d kill him. The thought doesn’t illicit... anything from him at first. It’s just a factual piece of evidence that he can’t find himself afraid of. There’s no followup to it, only that the thought of running from the scraps of a pharmaceutical trafficking giant for years afterwards is already exhausting. If he drops to Umbrella...? That is fine. He made enough for six lifetimes without anything to do with it beyond a point. He had a daughter- mother was dead, but she was okay. He gave mom enough to secure their lives anonymously. That’s the only loose end he had, and it was tied.
He’s nearing forty. He feels ancient.
“The fallout is more dangerous then the actual blast, for everyone else. You’re not going to be sleeping well for a few shitty months until they pull a partner for you.”
Whenever that would be. Hawk’s energy was defiant- Hunk let him bounce up and scan the room and the outside for potential threats. If he wanted to keep watch it’s fine by him. Hawk has less broken bones and can move more efficiently.
“What’d you do to your ankle?” he chances, after a beat of silence. He’s getting coaxed to sleep by the motivation of his rib not stabbing him. Can’t do that before popping the pills either, so he sets his jaw and sits up to keep himself awake and pulls the duffel up to rifle through the contents for the piles of pills. They could get food downstairs and tea. It’d make everything incredibly painful somewhat bearable.
“Can’t sleep yet. Been here before. Food downstairs is fine and the place is open at all hours. You coming?”
He’s already up again and walking to the door with his wallet.