25 years. It took him 25 years to die. 25 years since that night in Raccoon city, all that work, all that torture. He's finally dying.

He sat in a back room. He was here for a mission with his team. They were still fighting, wondering where he was. He was on the floor, an infection taking him over. He wasn't sure what but he could feel that he wasn't going to make it this time. He knew.

He took a deep breath. It hurt, yeah. But maybe this was for the better. Maybe he deserved this. So he closed his eyes and laid his head back, attempting to relax.

Then he heard footsteps in the room. God, he hoped it wasn't his team. He didn't want to be saved.