Cold sewage lapped at his ankles. Rust and rot thickened the air in the narrow pipe.
Ryan leaned against the wall, letting his rattled chest settle. His back stung where the filthy water soaked into the scrapes, and he bared his teeth, spat out a mouthful of gritty sludge.
He glanced at the tight corridor. No room to swing a grenade launcher. He stowed it.
The current had dragged him way off course, split him from Leon's group entirely. He closed his eyes and let his awareness unspool along the tunnels, mapping every structure within a hundred meters, every living thing hiding in the dark.
The place was crawling. Zombie dog pups crammed into cracks in the pipe walls. Two Lickers clung to the ceiling where the tunnel forked ahead. Even the murky water around his boots teemed with mutant insects no bigger than fingernails.
And thirty meters ahead, tucked into the shadows of that same fork, someone was waiting.
Breathing so controlled it was nearly silent. Body pressed flat against the pipe wall's blind spot. Suppressed pistol in hand, every muscle coiled tight. The kind of fieldcraft only a top-tier operative could pull off.
Ryan's eyebrow ticked up. He kept walking, straight toward the junction.
He knew who it was. In all of Raccoon City, only one person could thread a monster-infested sewer network alone and stay that invisible. Ada Wong.
The second he reached the fork, a cool voice cut from the shadows. The suppressed pistol slid out of the dark, but it wasn't aimed at him. It pointed at the crack in the wall beside him.
"Don't move. There's something in the gap behind your left shoulder."
Ryan didn't stop. Didn't even turn his head. His right hand swept back, drew the Desert Eagle from his hip, and fired a single round into the crack. The heavy report rolled through the tunnel. A short, strangled squeal came from inside the gap, then dark green fluid leaked down the seam. The zombie dog pup went still.
Only then did he look at her. His tone eased a fraction. "Well, if it isn't the FBI. Thanks for the heads-up, but I already spotted it."
Ada stepped out of the darkness. The signature red dress hugged a lean, athletic frame. Black hair pulled back tight. Sharp eyes locked on him with open caution and a sliver of curiosity she couldn't quite hide.
This wasn't their first meeting. She'd seen him in the precinct parking garage, mowing through the horde with that terrifyingly steady aim. The image had stayed with her. But the chaos had been too thick to think it through, and she'd slipped away in the confusion.
"Where are your friends?" Her voice carried a note of dry amusement. No small talk. The pistol hung at her side, not aimed at him, but her wrist stayed angled so she could snap it up in a heartbeat.
"Don't get me started." Ryan leaned against the pipe wall, gaze drifting past her into the tunnel beyond. "I was covering the rear. They took the main drainage line. Could be anywhere by now." He looked back at her. "You, though. Down here alone, working your way through the sewers. Shortcut to NEST?" He glanced at her outfit. "And where's the trench coat?"
He didn't call out her real objective. No need to push it. This version of Ada still had a greenness to her, a stiffness that said she hadn't been in the field long. No sense spooking her.
Ada's pupils narrowed. Her fingers tightened around the grip.
She hadn't expected him to read her route that cleanly. The underground approach to NEST, the plan to intercept the G-Virus sample before anyone else got close. She'd plotted the path herself, mapped around every monster cluster. Nobody knew it except Wesker.
Worse, she'd been set up in a perfect firing position the entire time. But from the moment Ryan started walking toward her, his footwork, his positioning, every step had landed in her dead zone. As if he'd already seen through every angle she could take.
Then her ears caught it. Something in the water below, closing fast, almost silent. In the dim light, the murky surface gave up nothing. By the time she raised her pistol, three black shapes exploded out of the sewage.
G-Young.
Half a meter long, slick with mucus, jaws bristling with teeth. All three lunged for their shins. Too close for a clean shot.
Ada was half a beat slow.
But Ryan had moved before they broke the surface. The Desert Eagle barked three times, his eyes still on Ada's face, not so much as a downward glance. Three rounds punched through three skulls. Green fluid burst in the air. The creatures slammed back into the water without a sound and floated there, dead.
Less than a second. Start to finish.
Ada stood frozen, pistol raised at nothing.
A chill crawled up her legs. She was a trained operative, drilled in spatial awareness under the harshest conditions, and she'd only registered the threat the instant the water broke. Ryan had called it early. Called it blind. Three targets, three kills, without looking.
It clicked. Back at the precinct, she'd written him off as a good shot with heavy firepower. Now she understood. This man could lock onto targets outside his line of sight, see through fouled water, read every move she made from inside the shadows.
Ryan blew the smoke from the muzzle and holstered the Eagle. He watched Ada's expression shift, kept his voice flat. No showboating. "Things down here hide deeper than you think. Doesn't matter how good your concealment is if something hits you from a blind spot." He tilted his head. "Want to team up?"
Ada lowered her weapon slowly. Her eyes stayed on him, but most of the wariness had drained out, replaced by something harder to name.
She still had her mission. She still needed the G-Virus. She still wasn't the type to defer to anyone. But she knew, clearly, that this man wasn't her enemy.
Then, from both ends of the tunnel at once, the sound came. Dozens of small bodies cutting through the water.
Ada's expression darkened. She snapped the pistol back up toward the tunnel ahead.
Ryan's senses were already spread wide. Scores of G-Young swarming from both directions, sealing off every exit. In the ceiling gaps above, three Lickers scrambled along the pipe walls, throats rumbling with low, wet snarls.
Surrounded.
Ada pivoted, falling in back-to-back with him, gun trained on the approaching wave. Her voice was hard, clipped, and the earlier distance was gone. "Looks like we're working together."
Ryan laughed once, short and quiet. He brought the Desert Eagle up, finger settling on the trigger.
"My pleasure." No flourish, no bravado. Just one practical reminder. "Watch your own flank. I'd rather not turn around and find you dead."
Before the last word left his mouth, the nearest G-Young shrieked and lunged.
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