Sanders focused his gaze on a Caucasian USS operative who looked about forty, had dark-brown hair, and a thoroughly average face.
This unremarkable, slightly paunchy USS was none other than the legendary 'Grim Reaper,' HUNK.
His real name was equally ordinary: Hunkins Thomas.
Sanders guessed that the most reliable USS had simply plucked the catchiest syllable—'HUNK'—from 'Hunkins' for his callsign.
[Anomalous entity detected.]
???
Just as Sanders was secretly studying HUNK, the system coldly announced in his mind:
[Subject: Hunkins Thomas.
Alias: HUNK.
Description:
Subject possesses reaction speed far exceeding human norms, is proficient in every form of hand-to-hand combat, and exhibits strength far beyond that of ordinary people.
When cornered, he can even push his potential to the very limits of human physical capability.]
'This counts as an anomaly?' Sanders marveled inwardly.
A moment later he realized—every video-game protagonist must be an anomaly too.
Leon and Chris especially.
One's 'Lee the Light-Stealer'.
The other's 'Chris the Crusher'.
'Those two are definitely anomalies,' Sanders concluded.
Right then,
the thirty-six USS inside the warehouse had already donned bullet-proof vests, tactical harnesses, pouches, black balaclavas and Kevlar helmets fitted with dual-tube night-vision goggles.
Magazines were loaded with sub-sonic rounds; every rifle had a suppressor attached—only a few MP5SDs needed no extra can.
The trademark red-eyed 'octopus' gas-masks hung at their hips or small of their backs.
Though this mission targeted only Birkin and Wesker, with no direct bio-threat expected, the team prepared for every contingency.
Fully kitted, the thirty-six USS moved away from the tables and gathered in front of the whiteboard, ready to move on Sanders's order.
HUNK and the Omicron captain stood at the very front.
With no more clatter of magazines or weapon checks, the warehouse fell absolutely silent.
So quiet a falling needle could be heard.
Seeing this,
Sanders coughed lightly into his right fist.
He let the silence linger, then deliberately lowered his voice: 'I've assembled you in Raccoon City because I need the company's most loyal personnel to help me eliminate two traitors.'
The moment he finished, a white fabric screen began descending behind him.
As it unfurled, the warehouse lights dimmed row by row.
A ceiling projector whirred to life, casting its glow onto the screen and bathing the room in light once more.
The first slide showed headshots of William Birkin and Albert Wesker, each with a brief profile.
Seconds later the image changed, revealing the architectural plans of the Hive beneath Raccoon City.
On Level 2, a staff dormitory in the far south-east was circled in red.
A bold red arrow pointed to the room, its tail labelled in thick red text: 'William Birkin.'
Sanders resumed his official tone: 'William Birkin, director of the Hive facility, has been confirmed to be colluding with U.S. military liaison Derek C. Simmons.'
'At present Birkin, his wife Annette and daughter Sherry are inside that dormitory.'
'To secure the Hive, its virus samples and data, I've already dispatched an asset to seal the facility, restrict movement, and flood it with sedative gas.'
'Captain,' he said, locking eyes with HUNK, 'I need you and your squad to enter the Hive via the suburban south tunnel.'
'Once inside, Alpha will have top-level clearance, and our asset will guide you by comms so you can secure all personnel in the shortest possible time.'
'Final point: ensure the safety of William Birkin's family at all costs.'
'Move out.'
'Yes, sir.' Without hesitation HUNK turned and led his team from the warehouse.
The 'asset' Sanders had mentioned was red queen.
While projecting the slides, she had sealed the Hive and released the gas.
Much like the red queen in the first Resident Evil film, who flooded the Hive with gas to stop the T-virus outbreak—except red queen used sedative, the film queen used lethal toxin.
Under red queen's surveillance, the Birkins now lay in deep sleep, preventing William from any g-virus-induced rampage that might get him shot by Alpha.
Once Alpha departed, the projector continued, showing Omicron everything about Wesker.
Exceptional combat and marksmanship skills, extreme vigilance, and so on.
Next came Wesker's home address, floor plan of his apartment building, and a detailed layout of his unit.
Finally, a red circle highlighted Wesker's usual movement zones inside the flat.
When the slide finished, Sanders scanned the Omicron team, his expression grave: 'Gentlemen, Albert Wesker is a test subject of the company's classified Wesker Project, but he has secretly allied with outside forces.'
'Given his unique nature, I will accompany you to guarantee he is rendered completely harmless.'
The present Wesker had yet to inject the special virus Birkin would prepare for him, nor had he undergone his first pseudo-death; he possessed no god-like abilities—yet.
But this was still Wesker,
one of gaming's all-time greatest bosses.
To guarantee success, Sanders had to join the raid; on paper, his own physique sat at the very pinnacle of human limits.
'Sir...' The former Lieutenant, now Omicron captain, hesitated: 'This could be extremely dangerous for you. Just wait here—Omicron has never failed a mission.'
The unspoken subtext was clear: You're a board member; if we Omicron can't handle it, you'd only be walking to your death.
Sanders caught the implication at once.
He merely smiled. 'Relax, I won't be in the direct assault. Let's move.'
With that he strode toward the exit.
'Yes, sir.' Realizing Sanders would not be swayed, the captain nodded, gathered his men, and followed him out of the warehouse.