"You know, that's rather rude. But I'll forgive you. In your position, it's easy to make a rash decision. Still—turning you into a monster? What nonsense. Look at her." I gestured toward Yamata. "She's almost human—both outwardly and inwardly. Don't look at me so skeptically. Yes, she's stronger, faster, and more resilient than an ordinary person. But is that really a bad thing? No need to answer—I can read it all on your face. Don't worry. As you may have noticed, we don't lunge at the living. And we don't eat corpses unless we choose to. Though for some reason, I doubt you'd ever develop that particular taste. Am I wrong?"
"Get to the point, monster!" Ada snapped, glaring at me—annoyed that I'd so easily read her expression. What kind of spy did that make her? And doubly furious at herself for being intrigued despite everything. Understandable. No one wants to die. Just look at what Birkin turned himself into rather than go quietly into the grave. And Ada herself understood that too, which only made her all the more irritated, since right now she was letting me persuade her.
"Fine. Straight to the point." I inclined my head slightly. "The only real drawback of the form my dear partner is in is the occasional need to drink blood. But to simply satisfy hunger—not to evolve further or gain more power—a glass a day, or even every other day, is enough. And it doesn't have to be human."
I let that sink in before continuing.
"Not a very steep price for that kind of power, is it? Just drink your 'tomato juice' on an empty stomach, and there are no problems. At the same time, it's nearly impossible to detect this strain—it's no longer the T-virus or the G-virus (especially in my case, since even the device designed to detect it cannot see me). And you retain a human appearance. That means after infection, you can continue your work among people without fear of exposure."
I met her eyes.
"And right now, I'm offering you the chance to try it for yourself. It's certainly better than the alternative. You can even continue working for your organization—the one competing with Umbrella. What's wrong? I see the surprise on your face. Did you really think I didn't know who you work for?"
"Then why do you need any of this?" Ada bared her teeth at me. "Wouldn't it be simpler to just let me die?"
No. It wouldn't. At the very least, I needed her skills and connections. Ideally, having my own informant within the enemy's ranks would be invaluable. And if she could gain Wesker's trust… oh, the samples I could acquire—various viral strains, Las Plagas, Uroboros, even T-Veronica if my own plans failed.
But for close and reliable cooperation, I need her to make that decision herself—not for me to wait until her death, or to turn her afterward. There was a certain irony in it all. She'd chose to stay in the city to get her hands on more Umbrella's various developments, including the HiF, and in the end she will soon become like me.
"I only need assistance. Don't tense up so much right away. Nothing outrageous. I just want to legalize myself in this country, and perhaps in others as well. You see, thanks to one damned corporation, I've been officially listed as dead for decades, and as for my appearance… well, let's not even go there. But everyone wants to carve out their place in this world."
I spread my hands.
"To make that happen, I'll have to act through my partner. She'll need to 'die' officially as well and reappear as someone else entirely, with new credentials. A little plastic surgery wouldn't hurt me either. From that standpoint, your connections are the most suitable I can find in this cursed city."
Apparently, I'd convinced her too. She seemed to believe me.
Hm. I'd need to check later whether telepathy had some subtle persuasive side effect. After all, Trevor somehow had exerted pressure over practically an entire city—though mindless creatures ignored her, the uninfected couldn't hear her, and Tyrant and Nemesis followed their programming without deviation. Birkin was another matter entirely; there were too many uncertainties surrounding him.
"Fine. I agr…" and then there was an explosion boomed somewhere below us.
I slipped into acceleration and saw the floor begin to bulge upward. Grabbing Yamata and Ada under my arms, I hurled us all through the window and out into the street.
And how could I forget such an important detail as the bomb on the first floor from Batm—damn it, Zinoviev?!
I quickly lay the nearly wailing Ada down on the ground. In addition to the blood gushing from the wound in her side, a couple of shards of glass were lodged in her legs. Bad—now the countdown was not in minutes but in mere tens of seconds. If she doesn't die from pain and blood loss, then my damned ability will simply drain her dry.
"Miss Wong, are you still with us?" I couldn't resist a touch of irony as I heard a snort behind me—from Yamata, who had just been set down and immediately began scanning the surroundings.
"Damn it… just do it already! Turn me! We both know I won't last much longer! What are you waiting for?! I agree—I'll find the documents, the plastic surgeon… hell, I'll even do the operation for both of you myself, just help me now!" Ada cried out. It seemed she had also hit the window frame a bit awkwardly, and the blast had left her stunned. In short, the girl was right—enough delay.
Carefully—very carefully—I bit into her shoulder, wary of crushing her neck with my jaws. Then I began to drink, as gently as I could, from a woman who was already half-drained by my own uncontrolled ability—perhaps less than half; I might be exaggerating.
I did everything with extreme caution, afraid of harming my future spy—because with my power and the fragility of the human body, the risk is more than real. What I need is for her to rise as a Yamata, not to begin a rebirth aimed at repairing damage, as some other types of infected do.
(End of Chapter)
P@treon: /SadRaven
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