(no subject)
HUNK lowered his torso and gently ran a hand back through his hair, slicking it back against his head. He had recently bathed, and felt the need to relax. He had done without his shirt this evening and had taken to his black combat slacks and a pair of combat boots.
'Some things I will never get,' HUNK pondered as inhaled on his cigarette. The smoke dispersed through his mouth, and he could feel the burning, toxin-filled cloud move down his throat as he sucked it down with one harsh breath.
Thoughts of Raccoon City began to fill the soldier's mind as he closed his eyes. Everything seemed like it had happened only days before; he could still see the sewer system, he could still taste the gunpowder that permeated through the corridor leading to Birkin's laboratory; he could still sense it all. Yet, it had been at least six years since the incident.
HUNK opened his eyes and snorted out a wisp of smoke through his nostrils. It had been six years. Six long, tiring years. And now, here he was, on a planet completely foreign to him, musing over the old days.
'Either I'm getting old, or I'm going crazy.' He stood and placed his hands into the pockets of his pants. For the first time since he arrived, he took a good long look at his living quarters. They were small, decrepit, and lacking some things that most people would call necessities. However, for him, it was perfect.
When his blue eyes fell upon the cans of food and water he had collected the other evening, he decided it was time to eat. He hadn't bothered for a while, but now that he had finally settled in, he figured there would be no harm in eating.
HUNK snatched a can up and pulled out his survival knife. Then, he paced over to the other side of the room and plunged the blade into the top of the can, slowly tearing it open. He sniffed at the brown mixture once, but didn't question what it was. He really didn't want to know what it was, as long as it was edible. So, plunging his knife it, he dug out what appeared to be a piece of meat and threw it into his mouth. It was chewy and kind of rubbery at the same time, but it tasted like one of the packaged freeze-dried meats he had had during his training mission on Rockfort Island. This time, though, the meat had some sort of juice spewed all over it.
Within a couple of chews, the meat was tender enough to swallow, and HUNK did just that without any though as to what it may be, or what that juice was smothered all over it.
'Welcome to game of survival.'
HUNK peered at the can again, before pushing the blade in and taking out another piece of floppy meat.