She was the siren. Lips like cherries dipped in liquor. Her voice led him off the cliff.

Faxing Berlin

A Resident Evil Novella

Author's Note: I'd like to thank you all for taking a look at my first story! The title "Faxing Berlin" was inspired by the song of the same name by Deadmau5. This story takes place between RE4 and RE5. Please note that this story was rated "M" for a reason and contains sexual content. Lots of thanks to my BFF Alias Blackclaw for inspiring me and talking me through the writing process, as well as the insanely talented author Zet Sway for proofreading.

~My favorite thing about fanfiction is that it's a great interactive experience between author and reader. To keep you all involved, I'll be including musical suggestions for each chapter. For this chapter, I'd recommend "Faxing Berlin" by Deadmau5.

~Capcom reserves all rights to Resident Evil and it's characters.

Chapter One.

"There are no good girls gone wrong - just bad girls found out."

-Mae West

He was a repulsive little pustule to say the least. Even his name, Ulrich, sounded like it was overripe with something foul, ready to burst. On any normal day she would have found his playing hard-to-get both comical and sad. Today she was pissed. He had something she wanted—something she needed—it just wasn't what he thought. It had taken her five weeks to get to this point: two weeks to forge the paperwork, one week to get enrolled, and two weeks of cleavage and promises that she could score him some marijuana. All of that effort for this "private tutoring" session to occur. So, there she was. Long legs, shock of black hair, full red lips, and breasts straining the fabric of her sweatshirt, sitting next to him and breathing in his ear, biology books sprawled over the floor. A normal nerd would have jizzed himself by now. Maybe he was gay. She really hoped he wasn't gay, because while Ada Wong was capable of many things, penetrative anal sex was not one of them.

Ada leaned in and kissed him on the neck. She was a good actress, running a checklist in her mind of what to do and what to say.

"Ulrich... I think I really like you," she giggled. Coy college girl personality? Check. Ulrich sighed.

"Dawn, are you trying to use me?" he snipped. Ada thought that he sounded like a little yappy dog without it's balls when he was upset.

"Why would you say that Ulrich? How could you think I would do that to you?" she responded, with a tinge of shakiness to her voice. Emotional vulnerability? Check.

"Dawn, meine mutter told me before I left for college that I'm special and that people are going to try to use me for my intelligence... especially girls." Oedipal implications were not something Ada had factored in up until that point, but she was quick to improvise. Seduction was an asset of her's. Ulrich was just another teenage boy after all, and they all could be cracked rather easily.

"Ulrich... it's time to break free from your mother's grasp! You are your own man. I don't want to use you for your genius... I just want you for who you are!" It was time to lay down her cards. She kissed him on his slimy little lips. Ulrich went in with tongue and Ada suppressed her urge to gag. He was clearly a kissing virgin. Ada would have felt bad for him, if he wasn't a smelly little asshole. It didn't matter though. She'd bedded worse men in her time. Hell, it wasn't really even Ulrich's fault that he was so insufferable. He'd been taught by a whole slew of teachers and professors and even scientists that he was God's gift to the world of Biology. Ada came up from the suffocating kiss for air.

"When's your roommate coming back?" she gasped.
"I told him I was going to be busy tonight... all night actually." Well. Not gay then.

"It would be a terrible thing to lie to him," she said with a smirk, before mentally reprimanding herself. No sarcasm. She was a shy, twenty year old biology major after all. She was to be as pure as driven snow. On that note, she briefly entertained the thought that he would notice that her body had a bit more...wear and tear than the average twenty year old virgin. Then again, his personality indicated that the last woman he saw naked was his mother. Ada dismissed the worry and pulled off her red Humboldt-Universität sweatshirt with a wide smile. She was genetically blessed with a seemingly eternally youthful body after all. Ulrich looked stunned. All she had left on was a pair of black leggings (no underwear), a sheer white tank top and a bright red bra, peeking over her neckline. Ada mentally prepared herself for the next step.

"Ooo, I'm so excited! Have you ever done this before? Where are your condoms?" Ulrich went pale. She supposed all his blood was draining southward.

"Just a minute!" he squeaked. Ada fought the urge to roll her eyes before silently praying to whichever deity controlled these sorts of things that he was not hairy.

Ulrich was a perfect storm of stereotypical nerd. He was short, bulky and acne stricken. He held his shoulder length brown hair in an unfortunate ponytail and was attempting to coax a beard out of his boyish face. Ada winced recalling the fact that he was not the most unattractive man she'd slept with for information. He struggled to pull his tight sweater off, releasing his gut from it's cruel, cable-knit constriction. His hands were shaking with nervousness. He next went for the fly of his pants.

"Do not laugh; do not laugh," Ada repeated as a silent mantra. Ada decided to save the big (or small) reveal for a few more seconds and slid off her black leggings. She sat cross legged on his bed, underneath a photographic print of two cancer cells dividing. A resin skeleton hung in the corner. Ulrich turned to face her, boxers around his ankles. He was completely shaven actually, in a haphazard fashion, but shaved none the less. She wondered why. Ada unsnapped the clasp of her bra and slid of the white tank top. Fully nude, she laid down on the bed.

"Okay... let's do this," he gasped, as if they'd already started. She hoped that he wasn't asthmatic. Poor kid. She felt almost bad for taking his innocence. Almost. He positioned himself on top of her and took in a huge breath. No foreplay, no kissing, just diving right in to her. She could respect that. She didn't want him to take his time.

"Tell me if it hurts, okay?" Perhaps he wasn't a total asshole.

"Okay!" Ada/Dawn replied with much more perkiness than the situation called for. He rolled on the condom and then plowed at her with no warning and a stunning ferocity.

"He must watch a hell of a lot of porn," Ada thought. It would explain the shaving after all. He wore himself out in a number of minutes. Clearly he wasn't used to hoisting himself up. It was a little embarrassing to watch, but she was glad that it ended quickly. It wasn't his face that bothered her so much as the irritating slapping noise his bulk made. Ada didn't particularly mind large men anymore than she minded the ugly ones, but she would have rather been on top. However, as a shy, twenty year old novice she had to avoid any displays of sexual competency. Ulrich disposed of the condom and crawled into the bed next to her.

"You're so pretty Dawn... that was so nice..." he mumbled.

"How cute," she thought. She supposed it was a nice as it could have been. In and out in five minutes flat, no kissing, no blubbering, "I love you!" when he hit climax. She tucked her head against the pillow and waited for him to fall asleep.

Ada waited ten minutes after he started snoring to get out of bed, vaulting herself over him. She fetched her external hard drive from her purse, switched on his laptop and keyed in his password. For a genius, you'd think his password hint wouldn't be "the scientific name of the Swine Flu." Any idiot with Google could figure that one out. She copied all of his documents on to her hard drive. The whole process only took a few minutes. Next she checked his email. He had selected the "remember my password" button. Ada couldn't believe her luck. She exported his inbox to the hard drive, before unplugging the device, turning off the computer, and putting the device back in her purse. She crawled back into bed with him and allowed herself to lightly fall asleep.

She called it "weaponized sexuality."

Two Months Later- Washington D.C.

Leon hated phone calls in the middle of the night. They were always a sign of trouble. It was the first few hours of a chilly Sunday in March and Leon was sleeping off one too many drinks from the night before. He reached for his phone, perched precariously on the edge of his nightstand. The screen read "Hunnigan."

Fuck. He answered it.

"Do you ever sleep Hunnigan? Go home, your family loves you."

"Very funny Leon. We just had a breakthrough in the Red case. We've gotten new information as to the whereabouts of Red. You need to come in, right now." Leon sighed. It sounded like he wasn't going to get to sleep off last night for another month or so.

"Should I pack a bag first?" he quipped.

"Just come in," Hunnigan replied. "We can discuss your involvement once you get here."

"I'll be there as soon as I can," Leon responded. He hung up and rolled out of bed.

Leon wouldn't have described himself as a priss by any means, but that didn't mean that he didn't care about his appearance. He stumbled off to his bathroom, a short walk across the floor of his tidy studio apartment, and got in the shower. Ten minutes of steam and some body wash that promised to make him smell like a mountain, a bit of hair gel, and a quick shave were in order.

Despite the fact that he had come into a good deal of money since joining the CIA and even more money after rescuing the President's daughter, he hadn't gotten used to spending money. Of course, his tiny home was about $2,000 a month in rent and that still seemed obscene to him. His apartment was fairly drab. He didn't do too much entertaining, and when he had a rare guest, all she tended to see was the ceiling. That's not to say that he brought girls home very often. He had a distaste for casual sex, but was no good with relationships because his job ran his life. His last serious tryst was with a single mother named Sarah who wanted nothing but sex and ended the relationship when her babysitter got mono. He didn't like living in one room either, but that was the only real choice in Washington real estate. His bed was curled in a corner alcove and the rest of his furniture was sparse: a lone sleeper sofa, a computer desk, a large gun safe and several book shelves. He supposed that if he had space, he wouldn't know what to do with it. His personal affects were few and far between. A picture of himself and his two sisters, one of his mother and father, and a beer stein he'd picked up in Spain. He used to keep potted plants, but they always died when he was away. He had an extensive collection of books. Most of them were nonfictional; he was currently reading the biography of J. Edgar Hoover. He kept a small assortment of novels: Les Miserables, Heart of Darkness and the occasional fluff read. He didn't read crime or current political novels. He thought there was enough of that in reality to go around.

He unlocked his gun safe to take out his Beretta and a magazine of bullets. He stored them in his attache case, not that he should need them today. He got dressed and slipped on his favorite leather jacket. His last thought before he left was,

"Damn, I need to stop buying cargo pants."

Leon took the subway to the Federal District. At this hour of the morning there was no one in the car but a few nonthreatening bums sleeping in the stiff seats. All the threatening ones were sleeping off last night's binge. Not that Leon wasn't prepared to take on a mugger. He'd handled a hell of a lot worse. He slid down in his seat and watched. That was a habit he could never break. Imagine everyone around you as a potential assailant. Every time he entered a room, he looked for three exits. He confused everyone at his nephew's wedding by standing near the window through the entire ceremony because the room was packed over the fire code. Bombs could strike anywhere after all, even a sleepy chapel in New Jersey. Maybe Tony Soprano was a guest?

When the train came to a screeching halt at his stop, Leon stepped off. The massive staircase to the outside world seemed almost insurmountable in the darkness. He yawned deeply and started walking.

His office was in an undisclosed building not too far off from the White House. While the rest of the CIA took care of their business at headquarters a few miles away in McLean, Virginia, Leon and his peers were thought to be too valuable to keep in the same place. If a terrorist attack ever took out the CIA, it would be up him and his fellow agents to pursue it.

Leon sat at a round table in a windowless room with a bulletproof door and two armed guards standing outside. They were merely for show, anyone in the room could have disabled an assailant. Leon noted that his two fellow operatives were still red eyed and hungover. He'd been with them less than four hours ago. In fact, at one in the morning, Agent Hayes had left the bar with a tall blonde floozy (who probably was hoping he was a married senator so she could get a reality TV show deal) and shouted,

"I'm getting laid tonight boys!" Leon wondered how his luck had fared. Seeing as it was 4 AM now, and Hayes looked absolutely pissed, Leon reasoned that his night did not go very well.
Hunnigan stepped into the room, clipboard in hand. She always looked painfully professional. Suit, ponytail, blank expression. Leon would have been lying if he said he'd never felt anything for her, but she was simply too mechanical to form anything but a business relationship with. They went out once, had a few drinks. She loosened up absolutely none. He tried to take her home, she refused. It was an embarrassing night for both of them, and they had since pretended it never happened.

"Good morning agents. We are here today to discuss enemy operative Ada Wong, also known as Red. The director will be teleconferencing us shortly to inform you of our findings. Until then, I will give you the details as best as I can. Ms. Wong, as we know is an accomplice to the presumed, but unconfirmed, deceased Albert Wesker of the former Umbrella Corporation and potentially the Third Organization. Wesker was last seen alive by BSSA Agent Chris Redfield, before falling to his death at the Spencer Mansion. His body was never found. Operative Wong is most likely working for the Third Organization, which we have little to no information about. She is presumed to be sociopath, a nymphomaniac and severely narcissistic." Leon smiled. Ada was no nymphomaniac, he knew that for sure. As for the other charges placed against her, he could not say. When he was younger, it would have bothered him to have such differing opinions from the official CIA report. After Spain he began to value thinking for himself.

The flat screen mounted on the wall began to buzz. Hunnigan pressed a button on a small remote, and the screen came to life. It was the director of the CIA. The case must have been pretty special to warrant his attention.

"Good morning . I am calling to discuss with you the matter of enemy agent, alias Ada Wong. Ms. Wong is known to posses Bio-Organic weaponry, is an accomplice of the presumed dead Albert Wesker and is a severe threat to the safety of our United States and the world. One of our operatives in Berlin recently took these photos. A forensic photo analysis has shown that these photos are indeed of Ms. Wong. She is currently attending Humboldt-Universität in Berlin under the assumed identity of Dawn Ago, a twenty year old biology major."

The pictures on the screen showed a tall and lean young woman of Asian decent in a red sweatshirt and black jeans. She was holding hands with a trollish looking young man with a stocky build and pimply face. Leon almost laughed, but disguised it as a cough. That couldn't be Ada.

"The young man in these pictures is Ulrich Faber, an up and coming microbiologist currently obtaining his master's degree in Virology at Humboldt-Universität. He is eighteen. His general aptitude tests we have received from the university are off the charts. His professors hail him as being a genius. He is currently working with several pharmaceutical companies on a molecule which could denature the protein coating of a virus without harming the human who ingests it. We can see from his Facebook page that he is in a relationship with the aforementioned 'Dawn Ago,' which is a rather sloppy anagram if I do say so myself. We here at the intelligence agency highly doubt that Mrs. Wong is in a relationship with this rather homely young man out of affection or anything but a desire to use him for the Third Organization's purposes. We have tentatively assigned agent Leon Scott Kennedy to the case, as he has the best understanding of Ms. Wong. Agent Hayes and Agent Broom are to provide intelligence as necessary, along with civilian Ingrid Hunnigan. Agent Kennedy, you have fifteen hours to report to JFK. You will be taking a civilian flight to Berlin. Your objective is to temporarily disable Ms. Wong and bring her into custody. If possible, please avoid contact with Mr. Faber, as he is a German citizen and generally held in high regard. And God knows the German's tend to overreact when they get angry. Over and out."

The screen flickered off.

Leon felt his hangover return, followed by a wave of anxiety. He would have been more than happy to never see her again.

Back in his apartment, Leon pondered if he should call his mother and tell her he'd be out of touch for a while. She never really did understand why he wasn't supposed to call her on an assignment, why he couldn't tell her what his assignment was, and why he never came to see her anymore. He didn't feel like weathering the impending argument, not in his current state of mind anyway. His family was a topic he didn't even want to breach in his own thoughts today. Instead he would get ready to leave.

He'd done this so many times that he had it down to a science. Throw out everything in the refrigerator; unplug the television; turn off the water valve to the bathroom; pack your suitcase. Two pairs of pants, four t-shirts, four pairs of boxers, one bulletproof vest. Laptop, Blackberry (the CIA wouldn't let their operatives use iPhones anymore after an agent missed a target walking into a gas station because he was playing Angry Birds), toothbrush and toothpaste, hairbrush, gel.

Up until this point, he had done a very good job of not thinking about Ada. He was going to be doing a lot of thinking about her for the next few weeks after all. No need to start now. No need to think about how she made his head ache and his heart flip and some other regions of him tingle. She reminded him of the Sirens of mythology: deadly, deceptively beautiful. Whatever that red faced scientist thought he had going for him was a carefully crafted skit.

The most frustratingly thing about her was that she kept coming to his aid. Without Ada, Leon would have been dead a thousand times over. And here he was, about to incapacitate her on orders from the government. It was all business though. She wouldn't have saved him had he not been useful to her in obtaining Las Plagas... right? Leon inhaled sharply.

They had a business relationship. That was all it was. A very complicated business relationship.

Nothing personal.

Author's Note: For the sake of my OCD, I would like to point out that "Angry Birds" was not released for the Blackberry until December of 2011, thus fitting into the timeline of this story. Additionally, I must note that I've never been to Berlin before, and my depiction of the city's geography will be terribly inaccurate. Forgive me.

~Reviews make Leon smile.