[TWD x Resident Evil] — Chapter 735 - Alexia Ashford — A Twist of Fate

Deep in the Bunker, inside the ventilation ducts.

Ada was like a cat perched in the darkness.

Her breathing was steady, her heartbeat suppressed to the minimum.

Through the gaps in the blinds of the office below, she had been observing Arthur Graham for forty-seven minutes.

For the past forty-six minutes, the President had been processing documents.

He signed orders, reviewed reports, and occasionally issued commands through his communicator.

Everything conformed to the state befitting a head of state managing ten thousand affairs daily.

But in the forty-seventh minute, after he finished processing the last document, something bizarre happened.

Arthur stopped all movement.

He didn't stand up. Didn't drink water. Didn't stretch his body like a normal person would after long hours of work.

He simply sat behind that large desk, spine perfectly straight, hands flat on the surface.

His gaze was directed forward, but his eyes were empty. No focus whatsoever.

Like a machine that had completed its preset program and entered standby mode.

1 minute.

3 minutes.

7 minutes.

His posture showed no change. Even the frequency of his eyelid blinking became extremely slow, almost frozen.

If not for the faint rise and fall of his chest, Ada would have thought he was already dead.

This was absolutely abnormal.

Ada silently withdrew from the ventilation duct, traversing through the complex underground structure, finally returning to the temporary room where Leon was.

Leon and Chris were cross-checking a map.

"Leon, I can almost be certain that Arthur has a problem." Ada got straight to the point.

"After completing his work, he enters a kind of... standby state."

"Complete stillness, without any unnecessary movement."

Chris lifted his head. The pen in his hand stopped.

Leon's movements didn't stop, but his speed noticeably slowed.

"Puppet?"

One word explained all the unreasonable aspects.

Arthur Graham, President of the United States, must have already been controlled by something.

"Then what do we do?" Chris asked.

"Do we still continue with the banquet? I think this is basically a trap."

"Why not continue?" Leon stood up.

"All I want is absolute control over those scientists. As for their superior, does it matter?"

"As long as I turn these experts into my private property, no matter who's manipulating Arthur behind the scenes, if he wants to launch any rebuilding plan he'll have to come begging to me."

"At that point, the initiative returns to our hands."

These words left both Chris and Ada silent.

Ruthless enough, and direct enough.

Leon simply didn't care who was running the show at the White House. What he wanted was to completely turn this country's brightest minds into his own possessions.

Pulling the firewood from under the cauldron.

"I understand." Ada nodded.

"Then at the banquet, I'll keep a close eye on him."

"No need." Leon turned around.

"Tonight your task, both of you, is to watch the show."

"Leave the stage to me alone."

"I need to draw this person out."

Ada seemed to think of something. She hesitated.

"What about Ashley... do we need to tell her about this?"

Leon's body stiffened. Finally he shook his head.

"Don't tell her for now."

"After I figure this out, I'll find a way to deal with President Arthur."

"If we tell her now, she'll only do something irrational..."

......

8 PM.

The central banquet hall of Zone A in the Bunker was brightly lit.

Melodious classical music echoed beneath the dome. Crystal chandeliers cast down soft halos of light.

The long dining table was covered with pristine white tablecloths, laden with food that was nothing short of luxurious in the apocalypse.

Chilled lobster. Steaks roasted until sizzling with oil. Various pre-catastrophe vintage wines.

38 of America's top scientists attended in formal attire.

They gathered in small groups, holding wine glasses, engaging in lively discourse, their faces brimming with the pride of victors.

"Cavendish, I heard you requested two more female assistants? The President actually agreed?"

"Of course. My research deserves this treatment." Physicist Cavendish puffed out his rotund belly, enjoying his colleagues' flattery.

"He's finally figured it out — this country needs us, not his soldiers carrying guns."

"To our wisdom!"

"To science!"

Wine glasses clinked, producing crisp sounds.

They were immersed in their own world. No one noticed that Leon, holding a glass of red wine, was moving among them like a ghost.

He walked to the bar. The bartender was pouring wine for a scientist.

Leon casually raised his hand, as if adjusting his cuff.

No one saw a drop of blood, deeper in color than red wine, slide from his fingertip and silently merge into an entire barrel of already-opened wine beside him.

The bartender skillfully opened the barrel valve, pouring for the next customer.

Leon held his wine glass and walked to a secluded corner, leaning against a pillar, quietly watching it all.

Watching those elites, glass after glass, send the wine mixed with his blood into their own mouths.

Done.

From tonight onward, this group of self-important scientists would all prostrate at his feet, becoming his most loyal servants.

Just then.

Leon's gaze was drawn to a figure at the entrance to the hall.

It was a woman.

A woman wearing a form-fitting blood-red gown.

She didn't blend into this revelry like the others. She simply stood quietly in the shadows of the entrance, as if utterly out of place with the entire banquet hall's clamor.

She had brilliant blonde hair, skin white as the finest mutton-fat jade, features so exquisite they resembled an ancient Greek sculpture.

But most striking were her eyes.

Ice-blue pupils, devoid of any warmth. They contained only a coldness and arrogance that looked down upon all living things.

She didn't look at the food. Didn't look at those scientists engaged in lively discourse.

Her gaze pierced through the crowd clinking glasses, landing precisely on Leon in the corner.

Leon's eyebrows moved imperceptibly.

He had never seen this person, but that feeling was very familiar.

The feeling of encountering one of his own kind.

The woman seemed to confirm something. She stepped forward on her long legs, holding her wine glass, walking straight toward Leon.

Her high heels struck the polished marble floor, producing crisp tapping sounds.

"A very interesting ability."

The woman's voice was cold and clear.

"Using your own genes to assimilate and control them."

"Is this your method?"

Leon's heart sank.

This woman knew. She even clearly knew what he had just done.

But he had no reason to back down either.

"Who are you?" Leon's voice showed no fluctuation.

The woman gently swirled the red wine in her glass, her ice-blue eyes reflecting Leon's image.

"You don't need to know who I am."

"You only need to know that I'm very interested in your ability."

She leaned forward, moving close to Leon's ear, her red lips almost touching his earlobe.

"Your ability is like a child who has just obtained the brush of the gods, yet only knows how to use it for doodling."

"Are you interested... in cooperating with me?"

"I can teach you how to use that brush to paint a true divine kingdom."

With that, she straightened up, a hint of amusement flashing through her ice-blue pupils.

She looked at Leon and slowly announced her name.

"You can call me Alexia Ashford."

➤ Next: A Joint Invitation