Research Institute Director Wesker and An stood before the regrouped Silver Squad. The only sound in the air was the faint, steady hum of the ventilation system.
Lying in the medical pod behind the Silver Squad was Soldier 11, who hadn't gone on the mission. The injuries from her training still hadn't completely healed.
But the Silver Squad that had just returned from their sortie could be considered completely unscathed.
Wesker stared at the mission report submitted by the Silver Squad, and he was on the verge of a complete meltdown.
He had considered that the entire squad might perish on this suicide mission. He had even considered that the most outstanding of them, Anby, might survive and return.
But he had never, in his wildest dreams, expected the Silver Squad to return fully intact from a suicide mission of this difficulty!
"I'm losing my mind! I'm really losing it! What the hell is going on here?!"
According to the Silver Squad's collective testimony, the mission had started off successfully, despite the Ethereal's strength far exceeding their initial predictions.
But what in the world was this nonsense about some unknown entity suddenly appearing, healing two critically injured, near-death members with just two potions, and then slicing up the Ethereal that the entire Silver Squad was powerless against with just a few swings?
Was this reasonable?
Was this right?
No, this was not right!
He had never once heard of a healing potion this potent in all of New Eridu—one small bottle and they were good as new, the only side effect being two hours of mandatory bed rest.
According to the latest medical reports, the physical stability of the two who drank the potion had improved significantly.
Those genetic defects from the cloning process, which the research institute still had no clue how to fix, had all reverted to a normal state during this latest examination.
This was definitely not right!
As a former medical researcher, Wesker felt his entire worldview being shattered.
Back at the facility, Soldier 11, who was merely incapacitated from over-training—not even a serious injury—was still only about seventy or eighty percent healed after all this time in a medical pod.
Comparing the two, what the hell was that money-guzzling medical pod in his research institute, supposedly built with lost technology, even good for?
Was it just proof he had too much money to burn?
Wesker shoved the absurdity of it all to the back of his mind, because an even bigger problem now loomed before him.
From the very beginning, their orders had never changed: only one clone was permitted to remain.
And he himself had personally guaranteed before the mission that not a single clone would come back alive.
But now, all of them had returned.
The confident assurances he'd made were now a swarm of boomerangs, smacking him right back in the face.
There was no time to find another suitable mission to use as a cover-up. If the subtle approach failed, then it was time to be direct!
Pushed into a corner, Wesker decided to stop playing games. As long as only one clone remained in the end, the process no longer mattered to him.
He spun around, fixing his gaze on Anby, who stood at the front as the squad's captain. He spoke in a low, heavy tone:
"Now. Go eliminate the other clones. The 'Silver' research project is being terminated. We can only keep one result."
Anby's eyes narrowed instantly. Her mouth fell slightly agape, an undeniable trace of disbelief in her gaze as she looked at the two before her.
The shock left her mind a complete blank, but in the end, all she could do was tighten her grip on her sword.
She had finally, truly understood her own naivety.
She had once harbored the extravagant hope that if she could bring all her teammates back, their demonstrated value might change their superiors' minds, and they would let them all live.
And now, this not-so-unexpected scene answered exactly why her first instinct had been to label that thought an 'extravagant hope'.
The man before her had never cared if the clones lived or died.
The other Silver Squad members behind her couldn't help but show a flicker of panic, but they didn't move, nor did they resist.
Since their birth, they had known only one thing: execute orders. And so they remained silent, awaiting their final fate.
Like lambs to the slaughter.
Anby didn't move. She just kept her head down, her face grim, as if in a final, silent act of defiance.
But Wesker had no more patience to wait. He turned and gestured to An, the one who had always been responsible for Anby's training.
An, who had never once seen Anby delay in carrying out a command, finally snapped to attention after the gesture. "Anby," she said hastily, "that's an order."
But Anby remained motionless. Wesker's fury boiled over. He barked harshly:
"Number Zero! Are you defying an order?!"
Their unwavering commands backed Anby into a corner she couldn't escape. She didn't know what to do.
Execute the order? For Anby, that was a fate far worse than death.
That's right. Death.
Why hadn't I thought of that before?
A flash of annoyance crossed Anby's mind. Had pretending to be an idiot to protect the Silver Squad actually turned her into one?
She raised her sword and, under everyone's astonished gaze, pointed the tip at her own neck.
When a person has no control over anything in their life, there is one thing that remains absolutely theirs to command.
Their own life.
She couldn't find another way. There were no other options.
And so, she chose to escape.
An escape paid for with her life.
The blade pressed against her throat. The very same edge that had sliced through the Ethereal like a hot knife through butter now radiated a chilling cold that made her skin sting.
This wasn't her first time attempting suicide. During the previous loyalty tests, Anby had made this exact move more than once.
But the Silver Corps' memories of the past 24 hours were wiped upon receiving a fatal wound, so she only retained a vague impression of those events.
Even so, the muscle memory was ingrained. The motion of bringing the sword to her own neck was unnervingly smooth, as if she'd rehearsed it hundreds of times.
The very instant Anby was about to slash, the research institute's iron door was blasted off its hinges, flying through the air. It interrupted her action and slammed down, creating a barrier between Wesker and the Silver Corps.
A man in pure white armor burst into the defenseless room like a hurricane.
Andrew took in the scene before him, the faint purple patterns on his armor pulsing in time with his heavy breathing, as if reflecting their master's incandescent rage.
He turned to Anby, his gaze locking onto the blood dripping from the shallow cut the blade had made on her skin.
Without saying a word, he strode silently to her side, pulled out a potion, and poured it into the girl's mouth.
The familiar potion made Anby's eyes fly open. She couldn't be sure if it was real, terrified that this was all just a desperate hallucination.
But the pain from the wound on her neck quickly faded as it healed, proving this was no illusion.
Andrew took the Ribbon of Hope from his pack, placed it once more in Anby's hands, and said softly,
"Don't let anyone take it this time."
The familiar trinket and voice finally convinced Anby that the man before her was truly Andrew, the one who had saved the Silver Squad once before. She took the ribbon with trembling hands, finally grasping her own, true hope.
-
Hello! Walnut here! Or... Miku Dayo in this case heheh...
Unfortunately, I had 2 stories deleted from my main account, "Walnut-chan," and I decided to post them here on this other account... I'm counting on your support to recover what we've lost!
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