Jack's eyelids felt heavy. His chest and arm throbbed under the tight gauze Ada had wrapped, every breath a dull stab of pain. He slumped back on the bed, staring at the harsh, well-lit ceiling.
"Where the hell did you even get that gun?" he muttered, his voice low and hoarse.
Ada, sitting near the cabinets where the first aid kits were stored, didn't look at him.
"A woman never reveals all her secrets, soldier boy."
Jack gave a weak chuckle, wincing as the motion tugged at his wounds. "Figures…"
Ada finally glanced at him, her expression unreadable. For a moment, he thought he saw something soften in her eyes—something almost human. But it vanished as quickly as it came.
"You should rest," she said. "You'll need your strength."
He wanted to argue, to press her for more answers, but the weight of exhaustion dragged him down. His eyes slipped shut despite his best efforts, the world fading into darkness.
Meanwhile, Ada watched Jack's breathing as it slowed, his body surrendering to exhaustion. The bed creaked softly under his weight as his chest rose and fell in steady rhythm. She lingered at his side for a moment, her gaze tracing the bandaged wounds she had wrapped.
"Stubborn," she murmured, lips curving faintly. "But not broken."
Once she was sure he was out, Ada slipped a slim, black device from her belt pouch. Palm-sized, sleek, no buttons—an Umbrella prototype she had repurposed into her own spyware. Its smooth surface flickered to life, projecting stolen lab data in cold white text.
She scrolled quickly through the files:
SUBJECT #199 – Hale, Jack
Status: Viral Stabilization Achieved
Sync Rate: 42%
Adaptation Potential: High. Candidate for long-term observation.
Ada's brow arched.
Notes: Blood samples analyzed. Unlike other Aegis subjects, Hale's blood is not contagious. No secondary infection vector detected. Viral integration appears self-contained. Unique anomaly.
Ada tilted her head, studying the glowing text. Not contagious. Unlike the others, Jack wasn't a walking plague. Umbrella couldn't replicate him. That made him valuable—and dangerous.
From a corporate-science standpoint, he was priceless. His blood and DNA could serve as the blueprint for refining the virus into a usable form.
But at the same time, Jack represented a threat. If Umbrella discovered he couldn't be replicated, he would become a loose end. And Umbrella didn't tolerate wild cards that couldn't be controlled. At best, they would capture him and dissect him. At worst… they would dispose of him entirely.
After all, Jack Hale was an anomaly—one Umbrella would never allow to walk free.
Ada glanced back at him, still asleep, then checked the faint timer glowing on her device. She couldn't stay here long. Her eyes lingered on Jack's face one last time before she rose to her feet.
"Sorry, soldier boy. You're useful, but not enough to slow me down."
But before she left, Ada carefully tore a piece of napkin from the bedside tray. She wrote a short, cryptic hint pointing to the location of Jack's next squadmate. Then, from her compact belt pouch, she produced a tube of deep-red lipstick and pressed a bold print of her lips onto the napkin.
On the table beside Jack's bed, she laid the lipstick-marked napkin and slid two full magazines next to his pistol—a parting gift.
Her lips curved into a faint, mischievous smile.
"Don't fall behind, soldier boy… I'd hate to have all the fun without you."
Her heels clicked softly against the steel floor as she disappeared into the shadows, leaving only the crimson imprint behind—proof she had been there, and a promise that she'd be watching.
Jack's eyes cracked open to a dim light seeping through the medbay ceiling panels. For a moment, he thought maybe it had all been a nightmare—the tube, Chu, Klein. But then the throb in his arm and chest reminded him otherwise. Sharp and real.
He pushed himself upright, groaning as the gauze tugged against his wounds. The room was quiet now. Too quiet.
"...Ada?" His voice rasped, weak.
No answer.
The chair where she'd been sitting before he passed out was empty. The faint scent of her perfume lingered in the air—soft, floral, and strangely out of place in the sterile, metallic stink of the facility. It clung to the room like a ghost.
Jack willed the system to appear.
[VIRAL SURVIVAL SYSTEM]
Subject: Jack Hale
Strain: Aegis Virus
Health Status: Critical → Fair
Sync Rate: 42% → 43%
Viral Infection: 0.02% → 0.13%
Adaptation Skills
Branch 1 – Soldier's Path
• Enhanced Recovery (Tier 1): Heals faster from minor wounds (cuts, bites, bruises).
• Reflex Response (Tier 1): Slightly improved reaction time, allowing better accuracy with small arms.
Branch 3 – Shield's Path
• Viral Resistance (Tier 1): Passive. Slows infection rate after bites/scratches.
Hidden Branch 2 – Bonds Path
Ada Wong: Dangerous Alliance
• Cautious Instincts: Passive awareness buff. Jack Hale gains a heightened sense of danger when partnered with Ada (+5% chance to detect ambushes or traps). (Deactivated: Ada not present.)
Jack dismissed the screen, exhaling sharply. That's when he saw it.
On the table beside his bed lay two full magazines and a folded piece of napkin. A bold, crimson lip print stained its surface, stark against the white paper. Beneath it, written in red lipstick, were five words:
Sublevel C – Containment Wing. Subject: Walker.
Jack's chest tightened. Walker. The loudmouth, the troublemaker, the pain in the ass—but still his squad. Still his brother-in-arms.
He clenched his fist around the napkin, ignoring the sting in his forearm. Carefully, he tucked it into his pocket, eyes narrowing.
"She's like a damn stray cat… you never know when she'll leave." His voice was low, bitter but not without a trace of respect. "At least she kept her word before she did."
Jack holstered the pistol at his lower back and slipped the fresh mags into his belt. His other hand tightened around the steel rod. His body ached, but it could move. That was enough.
"Hang on, Walker," he muttered, breath ragged.
With that, Jack pushed open the medbay door, stepping once more into the hell Umbrella had built.