Picking up the trail

"Those guys just can't seem to keep anything running for long, can they," she asked over the roar of the tiny airplane.

"Contrary to what you might think, the facility was abandoned for cost production reasons, not because they were overrun by an outbreak," replied the voice over the radio.

"Is that according to the press release," she smirked. For the first time since the mission began, she was glad for the WWII era surplus communications equipment she was forced to procure, as Wesker couldn't see her mocking expression.

"According to their books," he replied, unaware of her insincerity.

"Speaking of which, you really need to start investing in a decent PR team," said Ada over the radio static. "People aren't going to buy into these little operations of yours unless they have interesting names; you know, names like 'Resistance Wave' or 'Enduring Freedom'. You're falling behind all the other megalomaniacs."

"What in the world are you talking about," he asked, his growing annoyance evident.

"Just something I've been hearing around the water cooler," she replied absently, rechecking her equipment.

"If you could focus on the task at hand…?"

She sighed. "You're no fun these days."

"And your usefulness is beginning to be outweighed by your tendency for brevity," he said, ending the bantering exchange.

Ada sat petulantly in the corner of the noisy biplane, sulking. She knew Wesker couldn't see her mope with the aged radio equipment, but some tendencies died hard.

"You're nearing the destination point. Once you're on the ground, I want you to setup the new communication device I gave you earlier."

"Yeah, yeah," she answered, strapping another pack to her body. "You're lucky you never have to lug your own equipment."

"You'll be thankful to have my eyes and ears on this mission."

"Why, your extensive briefings aren't enough preparation these days?"

"You never know what might…come up on a mission."

"My, that certainly is reassuring."

"Your sarcasm is duly noted. Keep in mind you have my considerable information network behind you. Has it ever failed you before?"

Searching her memory, Ada realized he was right. He had always prepared her for every eventuality going into a mission, no matter how seemingly insignificant a detail might have seemed. Even that time with the Bandersnatch, it had been her own dawdling that nearly got her killed. Still, she would never admit this to him.

"I'm at the jump point," she replied. "Over and out."

She went to the back of the plane before he could reply, releasing the catch on the side door and sliding it open. The pilot was dipping low, but still a little too high for her taste. He was the best money could buy, but amidst a limited pool of a whopping three pilots in the entire area, that wasn't saying much. The facility definitely redefined the meaning of the word "remote", steeped deeply in the jungles far beyond the brim of civilization. Nearby locals claimed a race of cannibals lived in that region, and had thus moved far away several decades ago. The nearest village was over 200 miles from her destination, and no one was crazy enough to get any closer. Money still held the same allure across international borders, however, as Ada had slipped the eager pilot a handful of crisp $50 bills, promising him the other half upon the completion of her mission. From the excitement in his eyes from just the first half, though, she wondered if he would even stick around for the second half.

--

The steamy jungle winds caressed her face as she leaned out the opening, staring down at the expanse of rolling verdant greens below her. Dark hair whipped about her face, and the disorienting pitch of the rickety biplane disappeared behind her as she leapt from the side. Spreading her arms out, she opened the flaps Wesker's R&D team had installed into her newly designed dive suit, searching for the upwind that tossed her rigid body upwards before dropping her once again. Her terminal velocity slowed, she released the mini chute attached to her hip, descending gently to the soft earth. Wesker had insisted on using the prototypes, a compact parachute invisible to the naked eye coupled with the drafts on the suit. Of course Wesker would never test the hardware himself, though.

Dropping to one knee, Ada slide the constrictive blue sky suit from her body to reveal a light green undersuit. She had asked for a sleeveless version, but after considering the tropical insects and thick underbrush, she decided a little bit of sweat wasn't that bad after all. Opening the communicator box, she drew out the small harness, strapping it carefully to her shoulder. After removing the cap on the lens, she slid the ear and mouthpieces into place. Lastly, she fired the relay device into the top of the tallest tree in the area, hoping Wesker's satellite would pick up on her signal. The thought of Wesker having his own satellite tickled her fancy; she imagined him molding it to even look like himself, sunglasses and all. A gigantic Wesker floating over the world and lording over it from space…that was just too much. She burst out laughing.

"Something amusing, Ada," Wesker asked over the headset. She was unaware she had even turned it on.

"Just showing my usual zest for life, Wesker," she replied, the slightest hint of a smile still touching her lips. Now that their channel was completely secure, they could use one another's name. "How's the visual?"

"It's slightly out of focus, but it is most likely due to the humidity."

"Well, there's more than enough of that to go around," she said, wiping some dampness from her forehead. The plane had been hot and uncomfortable, especially with the pilot constantly leering at her lithe figure, but this was just unbearable. It was easily 20 degrees hotter down here, even in the shade. "Ever think about investing in a prototype air conditioned suit?"

"Comfort over utility…I suppose I shouldn't be surprised to hear that from you."

"It's what you get for spoiling me all the time," she said, snapping the last bit of her equipment into place. "I'm ready to move."

"Very well," replied Wesker. "You are only half a kilometer from the facility. Move northeast from your position."

Ada hated to admit it, but it was somewhat comforting to have her own personal navigator, even if it was Wesker's icy voice leading her along. She couldn't shake the feeling that this was the same voice that led many a person to his or her doom.

"That means the damn pilot overshot the target point," she muttered. "Waste of money."

"You could have jumped earlier," Wesker reminded her.

"Speaking of our pilot…what happens if our good man Rodrigo isn't at the extraction point when I get out of here? What if he just takes the money and runs?"

"I suppose you have a very long walk ahead of you."

"Funny man, Wesker. Forgetting something?"

"Ah, the serum. No worries, Ada. My scientists have synthesized a new, stronger strain of the serum, so your last dosage will last twice as long."

"Twice as long…?" Her thoughts began to race.

"It's still only a day's worth of time. Not long enough for a two hundred mile trek, I'd imagine. Even for me."

"You wouldn't want me walking off with whatever I find either, right," she muttered. He didn't seem to hear.

He laughed his hollow chuckle that she hated so. "Have no fear, Ada. I have a pilot on reserve less than fifty miles from you. I am also keeping regular contact with your favorite pilot Rodrigo. He knows better than to run out on me."

"Wait…you know the guy? Then why'd I have to pay him off?"

"To keep appearances. Men don't like to be reminded that they are in fact owned by another."

"Couldn't agree more," Ada replied, her own heart racing. A serum that lasted twice as long? If Wesker started producing those instead, he'd have a surplus of the older, weaker serum on hand somewhere. If she could get her hands on that stock…betraying Wesker suddenly didn't seem so impossible.

Her thoughts returned to the mission at hand. While Wesker had given detailed instructions on the scenario, he gave her no information about what it was exactly that she was looking for. Ada suspected it had something to do with the Birkin girl; Wesker had been maniacally secretive about her escape over a year ago, but his desire to be constantly 'in the know' when it came to this op betrayed his anxious intentions. He'd always kept a watchful eye on Ada, but he made it no secret that she was completely expendable when it came right down to it. So why start caring now, burdening her with an observation device?

Hiking in silence, she sighted a low hill thick with trees and vines. She crouched low and trotted up the peak, coming to a mass of rocks. Squeezing between a narrow crack, she reached the other side of the hill and saw a building far below her, tucked away in the recesses of a small mountain. With a sigh, she began her long climb downwards.

--

Whatever it had once been, it was nothing but burnt out rubble now, a charred skeleton broken in more places than not. Besidesfire, the rugged elements of the country had done their best to wipe away any other traces of humanity. A chilly autumn wind carried through the ruined remains.

"We're not going to find anything here," complained Leon.

"We just got here," reminded Claire, her eyes and flashlight alertly scanning every inch of the ruined site.

"The police chief told me they went over the remains a dozen times already, and found nothing of use."

"That's because they didn't know what to look for," argued Claire, kicking away a burnt out piece of metal. "Cops never do," she added absentmindedly.

Leon looked at her, about to say something, but decided it wouldn't matter. He knelt and began to sift through the rubble. "The blueprints on record in the town hall don't seem to match what we have here," he said, scratching his head.

"You mean lots of additions and mods," she asked, walking to his side. Feeling her warmth huddled beside him against the chilly wind, Leon was glad she had decided to come back to help him with the search. He had been trying to get time off from the organization for nearly a month to start checking up on Jill's leads, but Claire had been the kick-start he needed to stop finding excuses. She had flown in from Dublin two days earlier and practically dragged him from the offices of the O.R.E. Carlos and the other guys got a kick out of it, Carlos especially appreciating the kick-ass-take-charge young woman.

"Dude, she is waaaay too hot for you," his friend had said, nudging him in the ribs. Claire was helping one of the other guys with the engine on his vintage Harley, the oil and grease making her almost aglow with vitality. The two men sat and watched from afar on the steps of the barracks, squinting against the sunlight.

"What do you mean, we're just friends," Leon said, remembering his confused feelings from the past few months. Thoughts of Ada constantly waged war with his thoughts of Claire. Ada, for all her negative qualities, had died so that he could live. Claire, for all her great qualities, wasn't dead. It was hard for him to take risks romantically; Ada was safe, their feelings a cherished memory never tarnished by her lies and deceit. With Claire, it was all an unknown, a risk he wasn't sure he wanted to, or could, take.

"Of course you are," laughed Carlos. "She's completely out of your league."

"I thought we were supposed to friends too?"

Carlos looked at him hesitantly before leaping up before him. "You're right, hombre. So I'll give you hand," he said, looking Leon over. "First off, you gotta lighten up and learn to take the ribbing."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't be so straight-edge serious, man! Beautiful chicas like that don't want to bang moody boy scouts. You're a pretty tough guy, which the chicks love, but you gotta let loose once in awhile, padre. Even if you don't get her jokes, just laugh 'em off! Just read her and you can tell when she wants you to laugh."

Leon thought over his friend's words. "I can do that," he said, wondering if he really could. "What else?"

"Maybe I should've said this first, because it's probably more important than that…"

"You know, you're coming up with these faults of mine awfully quick."

"Hey, I'm just trying to help…"

"Alright, alright…lay it on me."

"Your walk, man. You gotta get a new walk, and right soon."

"What's wrong with my walk?"

"You walk like a Popsicle, man."

"…That doesn't even make sense."

"You got the 'walking with a purpose' thing down good, but you're like a walking corpse. A fuckin' zombie, man. You know what I'm talking about."

"…Speaking from extensive personal experience, I can most definitely say I do not walk like a zombie."

"Yeah, you'd be lucky to walk like some of the zombies I've seen," laughed Carlos.

"…Shove it, Carlos."

"Ah ah, remember lesson one," he reminded with a wagging of his finger. "Go with the flow, hombre. Nothing bad can happen then. And if it does, fuck it. Keep that in mind and your walk comes naturally, like this," he said, demonstrating as he strutted back and forth in front of Leon's watchful eyes.

"Your walk isn't that special…"

"Lucky for me, I got this sexy accent the chicas can't resist," Carlos replied, exaggerating the swing of his arms as he pranced in front of Leon. "So my walk isn't as important," he added, as a long shadow fell over the two.

"Am I interrupting something," Claire asked from behind him, wiping her sooty hands with an old rag. Carlos' face reddened, and before another word could be spoken, he sprinted away like a flash of lightning without looking back.

"What was that all about," asked Claire, sitting down beside Leon as she untied her ponytail, letting the long brown locks fall about her shoulders. A soft waft of scented shampoo lingered in the air as she ruffled her thick hair.

"He was just giving me advice on something," answered Leon.

"Oh? On what," she asked demurely, leaning back to bathe in the sun's warmth.

"On something he apparently knows nothing about," smiled Leon.

--

"Are you sure about that," asked Claire warily, standing beside him as the shrill wind bit at them. "Where did you get the blueprints?"

"Right here," answered Leon, handing her a manila folder. "Friend of a friend in the county clerks office got this for me," he added, a bit of pride in his voice.

"Aren't these public record," Claire wondered aloud, too intent on the paperwork for his reply. "I see what you mean…if these are all additions, there are more additions than there was here to start with."

"Like building a mansion around a phone booth," added Leon. "Or an outhouse."

"Thanks for that lovely visual," Claire said, closing the folder with a snap. "Whoever owned this place must've known this kind of inconsistency would pop up sooner or later."

"Maybe they figured they'd be long gone by the time someone did."

"Even if they didn't plan for it, it certainly turned out that way."

"Wait…you don't think was part of some elaborate plan to make us lose Sherry's trail, do you?"

"Looks that way to me."

"Or, maybe the building just burned down."

"Let me guess your next words…'with Sherry still in it'."

"Why would I say that?"

"Because you want this wrapped up neatly?"

"That's not fair."

"Neither is Sherry losing everyone in her life."

"I'm just saying, it ought to be a possibility to consider. Besides, there's no proof Sherry was even here…"

Claire thought that over for a moment. "Did the police find the remains of a young girl?"

"No, but their forensic report says the heat, combined with the collapse of the roof, was enough to disintegrate any traces. There were a lot of bodies to dig through, half a dozen bodies never recovered."

"…Out of how many?"

"Let me see," he said, opening another folder. "Seventeen."

"So there were twenty three people here, and they were all adults? Doesn't sound like a 'family farm' to me."

"These records have it listed as a medical care hospice and residence."

"With no actual patients? Come on."

"Maybe it was a slow month."

"And they had twenty something doctors on call?

"There's still no way we can know for certain if this is where Sherry was, Claire."

"It has to be, Leon. All those other sites didn't have the landmarks she mentioned in her letters, or didn't fit the bill at all. This is the last one."

"We could be on the wrong trail altogether too, you know."

"It's not," she replied with a surprising degree of certainty. "I can feel it; she was here."

Leon fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Look, Claire, I know you're worried that this might be a dead end, but there are other leads we can follow. We need evidence here, not a gut feeling."

"Leon," said Claire, staring fiercely at him. "Look around you! A burnt out facility far bigger than it should be, missing bodies, and the guise of a hospital with no patients! What is your instinct telling you?"

"I'm not saying it isn't curious, but I do think we should consider all possibilities," he replied calmly.

Something in his tone quieted her. "What do we know about the owner of this property," she asked.

He flipped through the thin folder twice, a curious look on his face.

"Apparently nothing. There's nothing in here about a land or building owner."

"That's impossible," she said, snatching the open folder from his hands. She thumbed through it herself, rechecking it once before closing it. "Ok, so this file is incomplete. What now?"

"I'd say we hit the records office and backtrack the paper trail until we find this property owner," he suggested, looking at his watch. "But the office is closed by now, and for the weekend." Claire smiled as she reached into her jacket.

"No problem," she said, holding up a shiny tool in the dim light. "You just gotta know what doors to knock on…or more importantly, how to knock on them."

"Dammit, Claire…please tell me that's not what I think it is…"

"Got a better idea? You have to be back by Monday, and I don't want to put this off for two more days," she shrugged. "Besides," she added with a mischievous grin. "What better way to spend a Friday night?"

"You ever see what they eat in jail?"

"Please show some faith, Leon," she replied, unperturbed. "I'm way better at it now, practically an artist."

"Ah, the fine art of breaking and entering…and have you considered the alarm?"

"You think this hillbilly county would spend any more money than they have to for guarding public records? They can't even afford traffic lights…"

He sighed, realizing she was probably right. "Fine, then…but let's make this quick, ok?"

--

The building seemingly cowered under the rolling shadows of the hills, its diminutive size making it easy to pass without notice. Long, withered greens draped over its roof, obscuring the building even more. The front door appeared to be rusted shut from decades in the tropical climate, but a front door approach was never Ada Wong's style.

"The exterior looks relatively untouched," Wesker said over her headset. She started at his sudden voice; it would take her a long time to get used to him watching her from, literally, over her shoulder.

"And drab," she added, composing herself. Running a gloved finger along the building's edge, she rubbed a rusty colored substance between her fingers. "I take it they didn't treat the building for this weather long term…"

"That is possible," replied Wesker. "As a cost-cutting procedure, Umbrella uprooted another facility to insert here."

"Wait…Umbrella cut and pasted a building? Doesn't sound cheaper to me."

"It was in piecemeal, and the overseer of the transfer was unfamiliar with designing in regards to the clime. He was later caught…misappropriating company assets for his own research, which is why he insisted on the remoteness of this area. So it's almost as if the project was doomed from the beginning."

"I see Umbrella hiring standards haven't improved over the years," mumbled Ada.

"This was nearly three decades ago, Ada, when the company was struggling to stay afloat. Pharmaceuticals weren't big business yet…at least not as you see them today. In fact, that indiscretion on the designer's part was a significant step forward for Umbrella's research on the G Vir—"

Ada could sense another history lecture coming on, so she began to quicken her pace. Swinging swiftly over the roof, she landed lightly on her feet in a low crouch. Damp shade hung over the top, and it was a relative relief compared to the sauna outside. Ada heard the whirl of Wesker's electronic eye, the lens laboring to adjust to the sudden loss of ambient light.

Letting her own eyes adjust to the shadows, she began to slink forward towards the entry point Wesker had found in the building's blueprints. As she knelt by the top of the shaft, she became dimly aware of eyes watching her; not just Wesker via satellite, but someone else out there in the darkness. Or something.

"Why are you stopping," Wesker asked irately, her hand hovering hesitantly over the steel handle.

Not wanting to give away her position, Ada quietly reached for the button on her shoulder harness, tapping the communicator button quickly. As much as she hated memorizing it, Morse code definitely had its advantages.

"I understand," Wesker replied patiently. "How many?"

She couldn't be sure, but that pervasive feeling just wouldn't go away. The air felt heavier, thicker, the taste of something salty and sweaty in the air. No doubt surrounded, Ada decided to take her chances inside. Lunging for the opening, she tumbled down the shaft as a swarm of screeching, flapping shapes exploded above her.

"Christ, just a bunch of bats,"Ada swore as she slammed roughly onto the floor. The echo of the shaft's collapse reverberated through the building's hallways, a cloud of dust following her downward spiral. Coughing, she rolled alertly to her feet, the ache of her ribs from the fall making her wince in pain.

"Ada…Ada…can you hear me," asked Wesker, his voice growing distant.

"You're breaking up, Wesker," answered Ada, looking around her. She had expected cobwebs and worn down hallways, but was instead met with an almost glossy veneer about the facility. Wesker was right; someone had been there, and recently. "How's the visual?"

"Spotty at best," he replied. "Take a moment to recalibrate and refresh the uplink."

"No time," she quickly responded. "Someone's been here, and they're no doubt coming to check out that commotion." Straightening her ruffled hair, she began to move further into the facility, Wesker's orders lost with the fading signal.

"…Ada…wait…"

--

"Why are you being so cautious," she demanded. There was no mistaking the frustration in her eyes; she was itching for action.

"One of us needs to keep our head on straight," replied Leon, crouched beside her. They were hidden by a thick set of short bushes that ran the length of the side road, a low full moon bathing the countryside in its white glow.

"The people have been gone for hours, Leon," retorted Claire.

"There is probably a janitor on duty," Leon added lamely, beginning to question his own caution. "What would we do then?"

"My god, what do they even teach you in this O.R.E. of yours if you can't infiltrate a freaking country bumpkin office building?"

He thought for a long moment. "Well, I can kill someone in about a hundred different ways…"

"Well, at least you know what to do with the janitor…"

"I can't just kill an innocent person, Claire!"

She rolled her eyes. "You are a prince, Leon Kennedy."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Nothing," she said, sitting back down with a sigh. Feeling her anxious energy temporarily sated, he too returned to a seated position beside her. They sat in silence for long minutes, the only sound between them the howl of the night wind as it swayed across the wide plains.

"So," Leon began gracelessly. "How's your, uh, brother?"

"He's…fine. He was headed for Egypt the last time I spoke to him."

"That's nice. Egypt must be uh, warm this time of year," he said, racking his brain for something to talk about. He heard her chuckle softly at his side. "What's so funny," he asked.

"You should listen to yourself sometime," she replied, and he could hear her rising to her feet. "Someone just left the building, and locked it on the way out," she whispered.

"You sure?"

"I doubt they unlocked the doors before leaving, if that's what you mean."

"That's not what I meant," he said, getting to his knees, thefrozen ground unforgiving. He wished he had brought his kneepads. But then Claire might razz him even more. He'd gotten more than his share on the ride down, huddled in her motorcycle's sidecar as they cruised down the highway.

"I'm not riding in that thing," he said, as they stood in the parking lot of the O.R.E. offices.

"Why not," she asked, buckling her helmet on and tossing him one.

"It's—it's…I don't know," he replied weakly. "Unseemly."

"Since when did you start caring about what other people thought?"

"Never, that is…I don't. At all."

"Of course you don't. That's why you're wearing that shirt," she said, kicking the bike to life with a grin.

"What's wrong with this shirt," he asked, looking down at the plaid flannel. He had spent all morning picking the shirt out, hoping it'd make him look tougher. And here she was, poking fun at it.

"You better jump in before your buddies see you," she urged, revving the engine over his ensuing arguments. Looking around, he realized he really had no choice in the matter, as he didn't know how to drive a motorcycle, and Claire wouldn't let him even if he could.

"Ok," he sighed, as he crawled in. "Where to first?"

"Sorry, rule #1: sidecar bitch cannot speak unless spoken to," she said with a wink, shredding the asphalt as her bike tore off towards the highway.

--
Note: It's amazing to me how quickly this chapter came out, despite being one of my longer chapters. The conversations flowed pretty easily for the most part, except for the one argument between Leon and Claire, which felt a bit erratic. I originally planned to have them part ways there, but I was enjoying their interaction so much that I decided to keep it going for a wee bit longer. My favorite part is Claire's visiting Leon, particularly Carlos giving advice on women; I had this image of an anime character's actions when Claire surprises him, just ridiculously slapstick. Leon is still a bit naïve at this point, but he's slowly gaining confidence, as you'll soon see. I just had to throw in that "Ada…wait!" line, just because I love RE2 so much. Ada waits for no man.