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The elevator doors parted with a heavy, grinding groan, revealing a world that felt fundamentally different from the rusted veins of the sewers. Here, the walls were paneled in cold, brushed steel, reflecting the pale hum of the overhead lights. It looked like a temple of science—sterile, expensive, and utterly heartless.
Leon and Ada stepped out, their boots echoing with a sharp, rhythmic cadence. They hadn't gone twenty meters when a flash of white caught Leon's eye at the end of the hall.
A woman in a lab coat. Blonde.
Ada didn't hesitate. She didn't call out. She simply lunged forward, her red dress a streak of crimson against the grey metal as she chased the silhouette.
"Ada!" Leon shouted, his legs pumping as he raced to keep up. His rookie idealism was warring with a newfound cynicism, but his protective instinct won out. Anyone running in this facility was a target or a threat.
They rounded the corner at a dead sprint, emerging onto a high, suspended wire-mesh bridge. The blonde woman was dozens of meters ahead, her lab coat fluttering like a ghost's shroud.
Then, as they rounded the final junction, she stopped.
Annette Birkin turned. There was no fear in her eyes, only a jagged, neurotic ferocity. She leveled a black pistol with both hands, her gaze fixed on Ada.
"Watch out!"
Leon's brain didn't process the trajectory; his body simply moved. It was the response of a cop, but more than that, it was the response of a man who had decided that Ada Wong was the one thing in this city he wouldn't let break. He threw himself in front of her, his arms wrapping around her in a desperate, bruising embrace to pull her out of the line of fire.
BANG.
The gunshot was a thunderclap in the narrow corridor.
Leon felt as if he'd been struck by a sledgehammer made of white-hot iron. The impact slammed into his back, the force radiating through his spine and into his lungs. The air left him in a ragged, hollow gasp. He felt the tactical vest take the hit, but the kinetic energy was so massive it felt like it was trying to punch his soul out through his chest.
"Ugh..."
A warm, coppery liquid well up in his throat. The world tilted. The overhead lights blurred into long, white streaks, and Ada's face—her eyes wide with a shock that finally shattered her composure—was the last thing he saw before the floor rushed up to meet him.
Annette Birkin didn't fire a second shot. She gave the fallen Leon a cold, satisfied look, turned on her heel, and vanished into the labyrinth of the labs.
"Leon!"
Ada caught him as he slumped, his body suddenly turning into a leaden weight. For the first time, a violent ripple of emotion broke through her icy mask. She laid him flat on the cold iron mesh, her fingers frantically unbuckling the clasps of his vest.
Her hands came away sticky and warm with the blood he had coughed up.
She checked the back of the vest. The ceramic plate had shattered, but it had held. The bullet hadn't penetrated his heart, but the shock of the impact had likely caused severe internal bruising and a temporary shutdown of his nervous system.
Ada looked at Leon's pale face, his brow furrowed even in unconsciousness. She reached out, her fingertips trembling as she wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. A soft, nearly inaudible sigh escaped her—a sound of regret that she quickly stifled.
Reason reclaimed her. She couldn't stay. She dragged him into the shadow of a support pillar, leaving him in a seated position. Then, with a look toward the darkness where Annette had fled, she rose and pursued her prey.
Ada tracked Annette like a wolf. She followed the subtle scuffs on the floor through a maintenance passage and up a ladder into a massive, thundering ventilation duct.
She dropped out of the duct into a cross-shaped hub. Before she could orient herself, a sharp, hysterical voice rang out from the shadows behind a cluster of pipes.
"Look who's here. You're the one who was with that stupid cop."
Ada froze, raising her hands slowly. She turned to see Annette Birkin, her pistol aimed directly at Ada's forehead. The woman was vibrating with a nervous, manic energy.
"Who are you?" Annette hissed. "Who sent you? Why are you following me?"
"Ada," she replied, her voice as calm as a frozen lake. "Ada Wong."
Annette's eyes narrowed. "Wong... I know that name. What's your connection to John? Are you helping him steal the T-Virus? Answer me!"
John.
Ada's eyes sharpened. This woman knew too much about the internal politics of Umbrella. Her relationship with John was a secret that could bury her.
As Annette's grip tightened in her agitation, Ada moved. She tilted her body at a physics-defying angle, becoming a blur of red as she dived behind a thick water pipe. Her own pistol was in her hand before she hit the ground.
BANG! BANG!
Ada fired twice, the rounds sparking off the floor where Annette had been standing a second before. Annette was fast, diving behind her own cover with the frantic agility of a cornered animal.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The corridor erupted into a lethal duet of gunfire. Bullets shrieked off the metal pipes, filling the air with sparks and the acrid smell of gunpowder. Both women were experts; neither could find the opening.
The firing stopped. Ada waited five seconds, her ears tuned to the hum of the facility. She leaned out, her muzzle aimed at Annette's cover.
Empty.
The woman was gone. Ada stared at the hot shell casings on the floor. "I didn't think a scientist would have those kinds of reflexes," she murmured.
A piercing chill pulled Leon from the dark.
He opened his eyes to the sight of the metal grating. He groaned, a splitting headache throbbing in time with his heartbeat. Every breath felt like a knife in his back.
He struggled to a seated position, looking for a splash of red. Nothing.
"Ada?" he whispered.
The silence was the only answer. She had left him. The realization stung worse than the bruise on his back. He managed a bitter, tired smile. She was a professional. She had a job to do, and he was a rookie who had gotten himself neutralized.
He forced himself up, leaning heavily against the wall as his vision swam. He stumbled into a nearby worker's breakroom, collapsing onto a cot. He needed a doctor. He needed Noah.
He reached for the walkie-talkie on his belt, his fingers fumbling with the switch. After a burst of white noise, he began to broadcast into the void.
"Claire? Noah? Can you hear me? I'm hit... please... respond..."
In another section of the facility, Noah and Claire were huddled over a floor plan with Sherry.
"This place is a maze," Claire sighed, her finger tracing a convoluted path. "We're in the Waste Disposal Area, but the Control Room is miles away."
Sherry, who had been quiet, reached out a small finger and pointed to a symbol on the corner of the map. It looked like a train platform.
"Mommy took me on the train here," Sherry whispered. "She said it's the fastest way to leave. We just have to find the platform."
Noah's eyes lit up. "The emergency escape rail. Good eye, Sherry."
Just as he stood to lead them out, the walkie-talkie at Claire's waist erupted with static. Through the noise came a weak, distorted voice.
"...Claire... Noah... can you hear me... I'm... receive... respond..."
Claire snatched the radio. "Leon! Leon, is that you? Where are you? Are you okay?"
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