Location: The Outskirts of the Village, Sector 5 (Northern Woods)
Date: July 18, 2020
Time: 10:15 AM Local Time
The wind howled through the pines, carrying the metallic scent of blood and rust.
Alen Wesker walked away from the Beneviento Estate, his stride long and purposeful. The "Hat Man" persona was shed; he was now moving as a Predator. His black duster coat whipped around him in the storm, but his posture remained rigid, unyielding against the elements.
He was mentally cataloging the biochemical data from Donna Beneviento when the static hiss of his earpiece broke his concentration.
<< Master, >> Trinity's voice cut in, urgent and sharp. << Sensor array detects high-kinetic activity in Sector 5. Subject Ada Wong has engaged hostiles. >>
Alen stopped. He let out a sigh—a short, sharp exhale of profound annoyance.
"She is persistent," Alen murmured, his voice flat. "Or foolish. Status?"
<< Critical. She has engaged a pack of Lycans led by two Urias Dracul and one Uriáș Străjer. She has neutralized five standard hostiles, but she is outmatched by the heavy armor variants. Probability of survival: 12%. >>
"Interesting," Alen said, adjusting his black leather gloves. The blue glow in his eyes flared behind his sunglasses. "I warned her. She is becoming a variable I cannot calculate."
He tapped his wrist computer.
"Deploy the Hunter-Killer Drones. Load E-Necrotoxin payload. I am moving to intercept."
<< To rescue her, Master? >>
"No," Alen corrected coldly. "To dismantle the obstructions. She is clogging my chessboard."
The Kill Box
In a clearing surrounded by dead, blackened trees, Ada Wong was fighting for her life.
She looked nothing like the spy in the red dress. For this mission, she had adopted a guise fit for the local nightmares—the "Crow". She wore a heavy, gothic trench coat with a high feathered collar, dark combat trousers, and a beak-like gas mask that obscured her face. It was a discarded concept of the theater, but practical for the toxicity of the village.
Click-Clack.
She fired her suppressed TMP, the bullets sparking harmlessly off the massive metal shield of the Uriáș Străjer. The giant, tentacle-infested Lycan roared, swinging a spiked mace the size of a compact car.
Ada rolled, the impact shattering the earth where she had stood a split-second before. Mud and snow sprayed over her. She was cornered against a cliff face. Two more armored Lycans were closing in, their growls vibrating in her chest.
"Sloppy, Ada," she whispered to herself, reloading.
Thwip-Thwip.
Two distinct mechanical sounds cut through the roaring wind.
High above, a sleek black drone dropped two canisters. They hit the ground with a hiss, exploding in a cloud of thick, green gas—E-Necrotoxin.
The Uriáș Străjer screamed. The sound was wet and gurgling as the gas ate through its fungal armor, turning the hardened mold into grey sludge.
Then, the air shimmered.
Alen didn't run into the clearing; he phased into it.
Using the Spatial-Phantom Movement, he appeared as a blur of black afterimages. One second he was at the tree line; the next, he was standing directly behind the giant.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Alen held his Smith & Wesson M&P R8 Tactical Revolver. He fired with the casual precision of a man bored by violence. Each bullet contained a concentrated dose of the Necrotoxin.
The shots didn't just pierce; they dissolved. The giant's knees buckled. Its massive body turned to ash before it even hit the ground.
Alen spun, the revolver moving faster than the eye could follow. He executed the two remaining Lycans with single headshots. They crumbled into dust, carried away by the wind.
Silence returned to the forest.
The Transaction
Ada stood up, holstering her TMP. She reached for her mask—
Click.
She froze.
The cold steel of a Samurai Edge – AW Model-01 was pressed against the back of her head.
"Well, well," Ada said, her voice muffled slightly by the mask. She slowly pulled it down, revealing her smirk and her sharp, intelligent eyes. "What do we have here? Never thought you'd show up to the party, Alen. Having a bad day?"
"Stop wasting my time, Ada," Alen said. His voice was identical to his father's—a low, menacing purr that promised violence. "I told you to leave."
"I should probably thank you for saving my life," Ada said, turning slowly to face him. The gun didn't waver. It remained leveled at her forehead. "Are you staying to back me up?"
"I am not here to babysit you," Alen replied, his blue eyes glowing faintly. "I see to it that you remain an asset. But currently? You are a liability. I have absolutely no use for your incompetence."
"Harsh," Ada noted, eyeing the gun. "Just like him."
"I owe you a debt," Alen continued, his grip tightening. "When the A-Virus aftershocks nearly killed me, you retrieved the vaccine from Rebecca Chambers and you lied about my existence to her I have just repaid that debt by liquidating those Lycans. We are even."
He stepped closer, the barrel inching toward her eye.
"Now tell me. Who are you working for? I know it is not my grandmother. If you lie to me, Ada... I will treat you like a loose end."
Ada studied him. She saw the resemblance to Albert Wesker instantly—the posture, the arrogance, the clinical detachment. But she saw something else, too.
A slight, rhythmic tremor in his left hand. The A-Virus Aftershock.
"Easy with the threats, Alen," Ada said softly. "You've changed. You're colder. Is it the grief? Or is it the virus eating away at your nervous system?"
"I do not pay you to ask questions," Alen snapped. "Answer me. Or leave."
"Fine," Ada sighed. She reached into her coat slowly. "I'm not working for The Connections. I'm not working for the BSAA directly. I'm working for your favorite person."
She pulled out a secure satellite phone and tossed it to him.
"Check the messages."
Alen caught the phone with his free hand, keeping the gun trained on her. He glanced at the screen. The text was encrypted, but the signature was unmistakable.
Sender: Prof. R. Chambers
Message: Subject: Megamycete Weaponization. Need field samples ASAP. Be careful, Ada.
Alen lowered the gun, but only slightly. A flicker of recognition crossed his face. Rebecca Chambers. The Medic. The survivor.
"Call her," Alen ordered.
Ada dialed. She put it on speaker.
"Ada?" The voice was frantic. It was Rebecca Chambers. "Did you find the sample? The sensors are going crazy over there. The reading is off the charts!"
"Not yet," Ada said, looking at Alen. "But I ran into a... mutual acquaintance."
"Is everything okay? You sound off."
"I'm fine, Rebecca. Just navigating some local politics. Call you later."
Ada hung up. "Do you believe me now?"
The Handover
Alen holstered his weapon. The tension didn't leave his body, but the murderous intent faded into cold pragmatism.
"If you had stated your employer sooner, I might have expedited this process," Alen said, sounding bored.
He reached into his tactical vest and pulled out two cryo-stasis canisters. They hissed as the cold air hit the humidity.
"Here," Alen said, shoving them into her chest.
"What is this?" Ada asked, fumbling to catch them.
"One Cadou Parasite, extracted from the Reservoir. One sample of the Megamycete Root, purified. High-grade."
Ada looked at the canisters, surprised. "You collected these? Already?"
"I am efficient," Alen stated flatly. "Take them. Your quota is filled. Now, remove yourself from my equation. Mother Miranda and the Four Lords are variables you are not equipped to handle."
Ada stored the samples in her pack. She adjusted her gloves, looking at him with a rare expression of concern.
"Fine. I'm leaving. But Alen..." She hesitated. "Be careful. Your grandmother Amelia, Julian Fraser... even Mrs. Xing. They are worried about you. And Ruby... she asks about her father."
Alen froze.
The mention of his daughter caused a flicker of emotion to cross his face—pain, sharp and jagged, quickly buried under layers of ice.
"Ruby is safe," Alen said, turning his back to her. "That is all that matters. I made a promise to return. I intend to keep it. But I am not a father right now, Ada. I am a soldier."
"I can see that," Ada replied. "And I can see the aftershocks. Your hand is trembling. You're pushing your body too hard. Even a Wesker has limits."
Alen grabbed his shaking left hand with his right, squeezing it until the tremor stopped. He glared at the horizon.
"Take care of yourself, Alen. Try not to destroy the world while you're saving it."
Ada turned and engaged her grapple gun.
Zip.
She shot up the cliffside, vanishing into the grey mist like a phantom.
Alen stood alone in the clearing, surrounded by the dissolving ash of the monsters he had slaughtered. He checked his watch.
"Distraction neutralized," he whispered to himself.
He tapped his earpiece.
"Trinity. Prepare the spectrometer. I have Donna Beneviento's blood to analyze. The next phase begins now."
He walked back into the shadows of the forest, a ghost haunting a village of monsters.
Status:
Ada Wong: Extracted.
Samples: Transferred to Rebecca Chambers (via Proxy).
Alen Wesker: Tremor Suppressed. Mission Continues.