Chapter 14
Ada panted lightly, a thin glaze of sweat forming on her forehead. The small cut above her plucked eyebrow wasn't draining any blood into her eye, at least not yet. Instead, it trickled down the side of her face like a crimson tear. Her bruising throat was making it difficult to breathe. The swelling had crept into her trachea; any more and she would be wheezing. Time seemed to be moving at a snail's pace.
Calm down...calm down...stay calm and collected at all times...you stupid bitch, don't let this happen again...
Her mind repeated this over and over again, but she couldn't. No matter how hard she tried, her pulse was rising and more adrenaline was pumping into her body. Just like it did in the bowels of the underground Raccoon lab, the last time a situation this dire occurred. The least she could do was keep her outward appearance set; it would put up the illusion that she was still in control. But that wouldn't do her any good. Sometimes, appearances weren't everything. If she wasn't calm and collected on the inside, things would begin to spiral out of control.
The Beretta PX4 in her right hand felt like a lead brick, safety off. Her arm was outstretched full length, motionless, but aching with fatigue. Her left was draped to her side, sorer than all hell from the fight. The gun had a 17 round magazine. She had used 5 shots in the previous fight. Plenty of ammo left. But plenty of ammo for what? Did Leon deserve the cold 9mm round waiting in the chamber, or the other 11 in the magazine?
Hardly.
Ada's usually rock solid concentration began to deteriorate further. Her blinking increased, the perfect curve of her lashes dancing wildly over her almond shaped eyes. She wanted to look to her left, to hope that the wall of automatic rifles and submachine guns weren't pointed at her. But even looking in her position would only cast more suspicion to the growing heap already on her. She forced her eyes into Leon's instead, knowing very well that she herself was at gunpoint. The shoulder harness wrapped around her body felt three sizes too small suddenly. Why had she fastened it so tight? It wasn't so bad an hour ago. Her aching left hand wanted to creep up and undo the fastening.
Think...think dammit! Stop wasting time!
Every second her chances were slimming. If she was going to act, the time was now. Which choice was she going to make?
"Can you really throw it all away?" asked the cool, calculating agent in Ada Wong. "The objective that you've fought tooth and nail for?"
Her conscience presented the logical choice to the question: no, of course not. The last 6 years could not be wasted at any cost. Especially for something as fickle as an emotion. For all that work to go to waste would not only be stupid, it would be insane.
"But what is it you want more?" retorted the woman in Ada Wong.
She wanted him. Desperately. Damn her objectives, damn the organization. It was bad luck that things had played out the way they did, plain and simple bad luck. They were on opposite sides. She did everything to keep him away, but fate always seemed to draw them together again.
"No, it's not fate," said the woman. "It's you. You're the reason why. Are you really going to let him die because of that?"
The two sides of Ada's mind clashed back and forth. The calculating agent had the upper hand, but the woman was strong. Ada still stood frozen with the gun outstretched in her hand. It gave a small shake, then steadied, still hovering on his breast, directly over his heart.
"Wong, what are you waiting for?" the captain asked.
There was a soft set of clicks and the creaking sound of fabric as positions in the gunmen changed. The only reason they would be moving would be if they were acquiring a new target. The only other people in the room was the dead assassin to her right, and Leon in front of her. Some of the red dots speckled on him disappeared. Ada didn't have to guess where they went; she was the new target.
How many are there? What about their positions? If they're clustered right, I might have a chance.
"I don't think so, sweetheart," the agent sneered, "The surroundings are bad. You might have cover, but you can't see them all at once. Your outgunned and outnumbered. They'll be all over you."
She was right, of course. The room was stacked with various boxes and other bits of clutter. Perfect for cover from bullets, but the gunmen had strength in numbers. If she tried anything, she would get blown away.
"She's wrong," snapped the woman, referring to the agent. "You have the skill to pull it off."
Yet another counterexample. Her mind demanded an answer.
The agent: "A simple squeeze of the trigger, and you're on your way to your goal. Just a minor inconvenience."
True. Why should she care? All that mattered was her end goal. All the time she had spent working to achieve it would go down the drain, all because of him. She would be doing herself a favor; one less distraction to worry about in the future. With Leon out of the way, life would be so much easier.
The woman: "A simple squeeze of the trigger, and you destroy one of the very few things that kept you going this whole time. Could you really live with yourself afterwards? May as well put the gun to your own head, you cold hearted bitch."
Also true. He was what kept her human all this time. But so what if the woman was right? Then they would both die anyway. As soon as she acted, he would be gunned down. If he was lucky, they would all turn to her first, but even that wouldn't matter; he was unarmed.
"But he would die knowing what you had was real," the woman said softly in her head.
Ada swallowed hard, already dreading the decision she made. It wasn't going to be easy for her.
So this is it...Maybe, just maybe, there's an angel on my shoulder.
Ada breathed deeply, letting the cool air fill her lungs. The dust floating in it tickled her throat, but she maintained herself. She closed her eyes and felt her skin cool. Her heart was still beating quickly, but controllably. The gun gave one final tiny twitch, then was steady again. Ada opened her eyes, back in control. Time resumed its normal flow.
Her hand gripped tighter on the gun, and she released her breath, cocking the hammer back with her thumb...
...then turned and pulled the trigger.
The captain's head whipped back as a neat hole punctured the center of his forehead, a cloud of gore spraying from the back of his skull as the bullet passed through. His body leaned back, then tumbled and fell to the floor.
The gunmen opened fire as soon as Ada's report rang out. At the same time, what felt like a small truck nailed her from the side. She felt arms encircle her waist, gripping her in a tight hold. It was Leon, barreling into, pushing her out of the way of the bullets. Together, they spilled behind a cluster of crates. Bullets whizzed and cracked into the wood.
Side by side, they huddled close, trying to keep themselves out of the deadly rain. In such a cramped space, Ada was pressed right up against him, sending a flutter through her body despite the burning adrenaline. Her faces was inches from his.
"Why?" he called over the deafening gunfire.
"Because I couldn't do it!" she cried, looking with pleading eyes into his. She had to be quick, it would all end in seconds. "Leon, I could never kill you! God, I'm so sorry!"
She clung tight to him. It didn't matter if she wouldn't voluntarily kill him. He was as good as dead anyway. As soon as the organization's soldiers closed in on them, they would both die in a hail of bullets.
But she still had her gun. It wouldn't do any good to even try to fight back against that many, but she'd be dammed if-.
-an unseen door tucked behind the bend in the room was kicked open. A small object was pitched in, which detonated in a blinding flash. More shapes charged into the room. More gunmen, but this time, they were different. They looked like cops, wearing body armor and wielding heavy firepower.
The chaos intensified as the organization's soldiers began to dive for cover. An all out battle ensued, with Leon and Ada stuck in the middle of it. A stray bullet passed through the weakened crate they were hunkered behind, sending sharp splinters into Ada's bare shoulder. Somehow, Leon managed to drag her across a few feet of exposed floor, behind a more secure support pillar.
Ada felt him pull her to his feet; she hardly knew what was going on. Even for her trained mind, things were moving too fast, out of her control after the flashbang went off. A shot tore a chunk out of the pillar. Instinctively, she tucked closer into Leon. Her internal alarms went off. She spun like a dancer, still in the shadow of the pillar, then fired a few rounds into a soldier trying to flank. She pirouetted back into his arms as more shots returned.
"This whole time, you knew they were coming?" Ada asked stupidly. Of course he knew. It was his plan.
Leon only nodded.
Ada felt as if her heart was going to break. He went after her, at the risk of his own life. He didn't even bat an eye when she pointed her gun at him. So ready to die, and yet now, up close, his eyes said otherwise. He was just like her, screwed over by his job.
Everything around them seemed to turn quiet. Automatic gunfire from a submachine gun sounded like an insect's clicking. A shotgun blast was only a whisper, the resounding pump of a reload only a flutter. Panicked shouts and commands simply went silent. Her leg coiled around his hip, in reality trying to compress her body to avoid gunfire, but she didn't care. It felt as if they were in their own world. He was so close, just like in her dream. She desperately wanted to reach up and trace the lines of his chest, just as she'd done in her sleep.
His right hand was encircled around the small of her back. How she wished that it would creep even lower. His left hand though...Ada felt pressure on her right wrist, her arm that was holding the gun. His hand was clamped like a vice on her arm.
He's not going to let me go...
Leon had played his part. The organization was caught by surprise. None of them were stupid enough to surrender; they were going to get slaughtered. All he had to do was hold her, and she would be caught. She couldn't do anything to get away. If she fired on Leon's friends, she was dead, and she didn't want to hurt Leon anymore. Desperately, she appealed to the agent and the woman inside her. Both were silent.
She wanted to be with Leon. At the same time, she didn't want to be apprehended. Given the situation, there was no way she could have both. She had to get away. A plan was already formed in her head, though it made her want to throw up. But there was no choice.
Leon was caught off guard when she suddenly leaned forward and kissed him deeply. She worked her lips into a tight hold on his.
Damn did he taste good.
Let go Leon...please, let go...
She needed him to release his hold on her wrist. That was all she needed. If he could just let go, it would be easier for her. Everything else would be left to luck.
Let go...
Leon returned her kiss, but neither of his hands moved. Ada squeezed her eyes shut, then rammed her left fist into his unsuspecting gut, silently begging his forgiveness in her head. He broke from their kiss violently, coughing hard, sending a spray of spit across her cheek. His grip on her arm slackened, enough for her to jerk herself free, then sprint away into the volley of gunfire.
The grapple gun still lay on the floor from were it was pulled from her hands. Not bothering to stay low, Ada bolted towards it, managing to scoop it up while keeping her momentum, then began to retract the cable, prepping it for another shot. She forced her beaten body to fly at full speed towards the windows along the wall. All the while, she kept pulling the trigger of her Beretta in the general direction of the organization's soldiers. She didn't care if her shots went wild. The cops would take the rest out. As she neared the windows, she aimed her gun at one, firing the last two rounds into it, then chucked the empty weapon aside.
Ada hurled herself into the window. She felt several searing pains as the glass cut her as it broke. She spread her arms like a bird, her dress flapping like a tail. She pointed the grapple gun and fired. By some stroke of luck, the claw hit something on the building across the street and stuck. The cable went tight, and she swung in an arc high above the street, sailing into another window on the opposite building.
Blinded in even more pain, she smashed through the window, more lacerations slicing her dress and skin. A wet crunch sounded as she landed on her shoulder, sending her into an awkward roll over the shards of glass. She cried out; tiny pinpricks of fire covered her, but those paled in comparison to her left shoulder. It felt as if though it was set ablaze, stuck out at an odd angle.
Dislocation...
Ada bit her lower lip, huddling into a ball, then forced her left arm between her legs. She pinched her wrist between her knees, then straightened herself, pulling on her arm. She fought off another agonized scream as her shoulder popped back into its socket with a crack.
...have to...keep moving...
The gunshots were still audible. She had a minute, tops, before the government was on her again. Ada staggered to her feet. A dingy desk... a computer... it was some unknown office; she really didn't care. She located the door, then pushed through, her right hand cradling her throbbing shoulder...Stairs...
Three quarters of the way down, one of her high heels snapped. Caught off guard, Ada's leg buckled, sending her tumbling down the rest of the flight. Her head cracked against the floor at the base. Trying desperately to shake the stars, she somehow got back to her feet, then staggered to a door. It led to an alley.
She almost fell again at the small step that followed the threshold, but managed to stay vertical. Halfway down the alley, she ran out of steam. She simply stopped, breathing heavily; suddenly unable to get enough oxygen through her swelling throat. Her eyes felt heavy, and the world was beginning to spin. She had lost too much blood, her body too damaged to go on. Her legs shook, ready to collapse.
At that moment, a familiar black limousine passed by, screeching to a halt. Crow bounded out of it, looking worried and tense. Ada collapsed just as he reached her, falling into his arms instead of the cold, dirty pavement.
"Ada! Are you alright?"
Her only response was a weak groan. Quickly, he half carried, half dragged her to the limo, then pulled her inside, laying her down on the seat cushions. The familiar cold leather was distant to her. She felt herself laying partially on something: it was a bundle of cloth. Her shawl.
Did I leave it in the limo when we arrived at the theater?...No I was sure I brought it in, it was part of my attire...but appearances weren't everything. Had he bothered to pick it up after the gunfight?
She felt Crow's hands unfastening the holster she wore. He lightly slid it down her arms, then stripped it from her body.
"My shoulder..." she gasped, "my shoulder..."
"You're okay, Ada" he soothed over her moans. "You're safe now."
He dabbed at her face with something that stung her cuts. She tried to turn away from it, but his hands followed. She grunted in frustration, thrashing a little rougher, which only resulted in a stab of pain from her shoulder. Why couldn't he just let her rest? He was always fawning over her. Didn't he have anything better to do?
His hands gently pressed on her arms. "Hold still. Everything is alright. You're just a little delirious from blood loss." His hand pressed to her face, his thumb peeling her eyelid up. "You hit your head, didn't you? You might have a concussion."
Bullshit...I'm fine...I just need a minute to rest...
The dabbing returned. Her blurring vision caught sight of her arm, stained red with blood. The cut on her side had dribbled blood down the length of her dress. Crow hurriedly pressed a wad of bandages to it, then guided her hands over it.
"Keep pressure on it for a bit, it doesn't seem to be too bad."
Weakly, Ada held the bandages over the wound. The roof of the interior kept fading in and out. The light was on, but it only served to make her eyes squint. Crow was on his knees next to her, busying himself with a first aid kit. Were they moving? The limo was so quiet, it was hard to hear the engine, let alone feel the actual movement.
Ada groaned softly, turning her head on the seat. She could just make out what he was doing. He was drawing a clear liquid into a small syringe.
"No..." she protested weakly.
He was going to kill her. It was over. Word got out about her betrayal. Now she was helpless, and Crow himself was going to give her a quick end. At least it would be quick, unless he was going to inject her with something that would make her suffer.
God, not like this. Not after so long. Not after Leon...
She tried to get up, but her body failed her. She couldn't so much as roll over or lift her head. There was so much she hadn't accomplished yet. Her goals were unmet. There was no way she was going to let it end like this. Despite her will, her body was refusing its orders.
"No...please..." she whispered.
Crow brought the syringe around. Ada tried to grab his arm to stop him from simply snuffing out her life. Gently, he plucked her feeble grasp off and returned it to the bandages at her side. All of her attempts thwarted, she shook her head furiously, denying the inevitable. Her eyes began to brim with genuine tears for the first time in a long time.
"Ada," he said softly, "Settle down. I told you everything is alright."
The needle was a tiny prick of fire on her neck, just above the line of bruising. A soft warmth began to spread through her body. Slowly, an invisible force was guiding her body into a state of relaxation. The last thing she saw before her eyes fluttered shut was Crow's face, his hand gently brushing her bangs away.
Then, she felt nothing.