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Leon let out a long, heavy breath, the metallic tang of gunpowder and blood still clinging to his throat. He looked down at the mangled pile of flesh that had once been Chief Brian Irons. Even now, the mass twitched with the dying remnants of the G-Virus, a final, pathetic display of the man's corruption.
His eyes grew distant, haunted by a question that didn't have an answer. "Tell me... was he born this way? Or did the badge and the power rot him from the inside out?"
"Money and power are like a high-grade acid," Ada Wong's voice drifted over, cool and detached. She stepped to his side, her gaze lingering on the remains for only a second before she dismissed them as garbage. "But for some, the rot is already in their blood. Power just gives them the excuse to tear off the mask."
Leon turned to her. Even in the gloom of the underground facility, her profile was sharp and breathtaking. He managed a small, tired smile. "Is that your way of comforting me, Ada?"
Ada blinked, caught off guard by the warmth in his gaze. For a heartbeat, the frost in her eyes wavered, the searchlight of Leon's sincerity cutting through years of professional distance. She shifted her weight, the red silk of her Qipao accentuating the lethal grace of her silhouette.
"Think whatever you want," she said, her voice returning to its iron-cold baseline.
Leon composed himself, forcing his heart rate to settle. "Ada, come with us. We've got Sherry. There's strength in numbers."
"Sorry, Leon." She shook her head without a second's hesitation. "I have my own objectives. Our paths are different."
The frustration hit Leon like a bucket of ice water. He fumbled for words, his ideals as a protector clashing with his sudden, undeniable need to keep her in sight. "But... we could..."
Seeing him look like a dejected puppy, the corners of Ada's mouth twitched upward. "Are you willing to assist me instead?"
The question was a lifeline. Leon's blue eyes widened in shock, but then he remembered the others. He looked back at Noah, Claire, and the small, fragile figure of Sherry. He was torn—caught between the magnetic pull of the agent and the shared trauma of his companions.
Nearby, Claire gave Noah a sharp nudge with her elbow, her eyes gleaming with the thrill of the gossip. "Oh, look at him," she whispered. "His soul is practically halfway out the door."
Noah chuckled, watching his friend's inner battle. He knew the look. He strode over, throwing a heavy arm around Leon's shoulder and pulling him aside.
"Go for it, man," Noah whispered, loud enough only for Leon to hear. "You want to end your streak as a bachelor? This is your shot. Don't worry about us; Claire and I have Sherry covered. We're better off splitting our focus anyway."
Leon looked at Noah, who gave him a comical wink and a thumbs-up. The warmth of the gesture gave Leon the permission he needed. He nodded firmly. "Thanks, brother. I owe you one."
As Noah, Claire, and Sherry took the path leading toward the industrial lift, Leon turned back to Ada.
"I'm with you," he said.
"Then move," Ada replied, her heels clicking a rhythmic, professional beat against the metal floor. "We need to find Annette Birkin."
"Annette Birkin?" Leon asked, keeping pace. "Sherry... William... they're a family?"
"The architects of this nightmare," Ada said, her voice devoid of empathy. "Annette and William are Umbrella's core virologists. They isolated a brand new strain from a young girl years ago—the G-Virus. An internal power struggle caused a leak in the labs, and the sewers did the rest. Raccoon City was poisoned through its own water supply."
Leon felt a wave of vertigo. "So the zombies... everything we've seen... it's all them?"
"Most of what you've fought are T-Virus products. G is... different. It's an evolution." Ada's tone turned impatient. "Don't ask for more, Leon. Knowing the taxonomy of hell won't make you a better soldier."
Leon fell silent, processing the weight of it. But his conscience wouldn't let him stop. "Why? Why build these things? To burn the world?"
Ada stopped. She turned to look at him, her eyes piercing. "Umbrella is a business. Their products are 'Global Security Solutions.' They sell the results of these experiments to terrorists, black ops units, and shadow governments. What you saw tonight—the zombies, the Lickers, the Chief—those are just brochures. They are samples used to show clients the power of the product."
A chill ran down Leon's spine that had nothing to do with the damp air. "They're selling the virus itself."
"The ultimate weapon," Ada whispered. "The fire that never goes out."
Leon's face went pale, but the horror was quickly eclipsed by a hard, bright spark of determination. He wasn't just a rookie on his first day anymore. He was a man standing between a virus and the rest of the world.
"Then we stop them," Leon said, his voice finally losing its tremor. "Not just for the FBI. For the people in the city who never stood a chance."
Ada reached out and touched his shoulder. Her hand was cold, but the gesture was the most honest thing she'd done all night. "Exactly. That's why I need you, Leon."
They stepped into a freight elevator, the doors sliding shut to seal out the groans of the facility. In the small, humming space, Leon looked up and gave Ada a radiant, high-spirited smile.
"Come on then," he said, his eyes burning with fighting intent. "Let's go kick some corporate ass."
Ada looked at him—at the rookie who had found his steel—and gave him a smile that was like a rose blooming in the ruins. Breathtaking, lethal, and for a moment, entirely real.
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