[TWD x Resident Evil] — Chapter 505 - Mission Deadline — What Was Lost

A few days ago. Afternoon. Staff cafeteria.

John set his tray down across from her and pushed up the black frames of his glasses. He was excited, talking about the latest breakthrough in genetic recombination, and his eyes lit up as he walked her through all those dry numbers and data points.

Then he stopped mid-sentence, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small box.

A silver necklace.

What would she have done before?

She would have taken it. Given him a warm hug, let him feel it.

But yesterday, when John reached for her hand, she pulled away on instinct.

Before, she could lean into any target, no pressure, no hesitation. As long as it didn't mean climbing into bed with them, she could do it.

That was work. That was the mission.

But now, whenever another man got too close, Leon's face just pushed its way in. Uninvited. Unavoidable.

That face. The stubble along his jaw.

What was this, exactly?

Guilt?

Loyalty to a man who wasn't even technically her boyfriend?

Ada let out a short, self-deprecating laugh.

Ada Wong, troubled by her conscience. Say that out loud and every colleague in the trade would fall out of their chairs laughing.

But the image of Leon pressing her for an answer was burned into her retinas. She couldn't shake it no matter what she did.

"What exactly are we, Ada?"

That day on the Watchtower, he had cornered her against the wall. No teasing, no roguish grin. Just that stare — aggressive, focused, like an animal that wasn't going to let this go.

He was genuinely angry. He thought she was stringing him along.

She hadn't answered.

She couldn't answer.

What was she supposed to tell him? That she was a corporate spy? That she could receive an order at any moment to kill someone, burn something down? She'd even had a fake boyfriend at the time — how exactly was she supposed to explain that?

And if she told him the truth, would he think he was just another fake boyfriend? What would he think of her? That she was some whore who'd sleep with anyone who got close enough?

She was buried up to her neck in the quagmire that was Umbrella Corporation. She didn't even know if she'd be alive tomorrow. What could she possibly offer Leon when it came to a future?

So she'd given him a kiss. No promises. Nothing.

Then she pushed him away and ran. She left the prison because the mission deadline was closing in, and she could only abandon him and slink back to the Spencer Mansion like a coward.

Two reasons. Solve Leon's physical problem. Finish a mission she should have wrapped up a long time ago.

But running solved nothing.

Back at the Spencer Mansion, facing John's eyes full of quiet affection, all she felt was disgust. Not at him. At herself.

This false warmth had turned into a dull blade, and it just kept sawing, slow and patient, against everything that was still rational in her.

The communicator on the desk was still flashing. That red light, sharp and relentless.

For fuck's sake. Can you stop?

What is this, a death summons?

So damn annoying.

She cursed in Chinese. Then a tired, resigned look crossed her face.

No choice. She'd never been her own master.

She walked over and pressed the button.

"Your efficiency has dropped, Ada."

Wesker's voice was completely flat.

"The board has lost patience with John's project."

"I need more time," Ada said coldly.

"I don't have time to waste. Three days."

He didn't wait for an explanation.

"I don't care whether you kiss him or have his child. Either way —"

"Bring me that hard drive."

"Otherwise, we settle old debts and new ones together."

"Your recent performance has already displeased the higher-ups. If you fail again, you know what Umbrella Corporation does with defective assets. I won't be able to protect you."

The line cut.

Ada dropped the communicator onto the desk.

Three days.

She'd already dragged this out as long as she could, but this day was always going to come.

She went to the wardrobe, pulled open a drawer, and took out a Glock 19. Ejected the magazine. Pressed the rounds in one by one with practiced ease.

Wesker's patience was gone.

Umbrella Corporation was not a charity.

The last punishment had been a warning. Next time, it would be a cleanup squad at her door.

She had to get that hard drive. Whatever it took.

Force it?

No. John's lab had the same security level as William's. Force a breach and the alarms triggered, and then the entire Spencer Mansion defense grid came online. Those Tyrants were not something she wanted to deal with.

The only way through was still John's trust.

She finished her wine. Set the glass down hard.

No more stalling.

Tomorrow.

Just tomorrow.

She dropped the gun onto the table and sank into the sofa, the cushions swallowing her whole.

She closed her eyes.

Leon filled her head.

If he ever found out she was over here smiling and playing nice with another man, even for a mission, that lunatic would probably come charging through the Spencer Mansion doors with a gun in hand.

Leon would do absolutely anything for her.

And she, god help her, actually enjoyed it. Being cared about like that.

That was the most dangerous part of all.

"Fucking hell," she murmured.

She almost never swore. It didn't fit. But sometimes, when no one was watching, she needed to let something out.

She was sick of being pulled apart from both ends. A mission that could get her killed on one side. The man who wouldn't leave her head on the other.

Get the hard drive. Complete the mission.

She didn't let herself think past that.

Maybe once this was done, she'd have an excuse to go back to him. Maybe she was tired of being an agent. Maybe spending the rest of her life at that prison wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

What was she even doing it all for, anyway?

But if she walked away, how would she face him? She didn't want to lie to him. Maybe she should just cut and run, abandon the mission entirely.

Maybe.

Who knew.

The deadline still had some time on it. She'd think it through.

She stood, walked back to the wardrobe, and let her fingers trail along the row of dresses.

She pulled out a black silk dress.

➤ Next: In That Case, Why Not Control Wesker Too?