Prologue - A Call for Professionalism
The busier a city's night life, the easier it becomes to move about unnoticed. This little irony is one of the first things Ada has learned in her line of work, and in all her years in this business it has never failed her once. When she slips out the window of her hotel room, down the fire escape and into the street below, none of the drunk partygoers loitering around spare her more than a passing glance; they're too engrossed in their own merrymaking to register her presence as anything more than a background prop. Which is just as well; only people directly involved in her jobs ought even to know of her existence.
A light wind ruffles her clothes, bringing with it the pervading chill of a rainy coastal spring, and she pops up the collar of her trench coat as she walks, more to conceal her face than to stay warm. It's only her second night here. She was scheduled to stay for a third, but a call came in mere minutes ago informing her of a sudden change in the plan. Ada is used to things changing on a dime by now. She should know better than to be caught off guard.
She quickens her pace as much as she dares to, trying not to appear too harried in case it draws attention to herself. She has plenty of time to make it to the rendezvous point and catch her ride out of here. Punctuality is not what's feeding her hasty march through the throngs and the neon lights and the booming dance beats. No, Ada's feet are moving fast to match the racing thoughts in her head.
She wants to call him.
Don't. She scoffs at her immediate impulse to ring that all-too-familiar number and ramble all her worries to the voice on the other end. Is she starting to go soft like an overripe banana? This isn't like her at all. Ada Wong works alone. Ada Wong does not seek help to complete her assignments.
Ada Wong's stomach had plunged into a bottomless pit upon receiving her revised instructions.
The job itself is simple enough: intercept the incoming cargo and make off with a sample, just as she's done countless times before. Some things never change, no matter how the industry shifts over the years. She knew she'd have this in the bag even before they gave her the mission details. But then an unexpected development made them choose a new target location, and all her premature confidence shattered to bits. It's the last place she'd ever expected to land within her employer's sights.
And even though she really should know better, she was caught off guard after all.
If only she could call him.
Ada hasn't been back to that place in almost a decade. Not officially, anyway. Truth be told, she wouldn't care much for it at all if not for one glaring thing, and her heart weeps when she thinks of how long it's been since her last visit. It's high time she returned there—but she can't afford to go in with just that hopeful, semi-cautious attitude she's always held before. Not with the danger of a B.O.W. attack looming ahead.
The job itself is simple enough. But this time, Ada has more than just a job to do there. And surely that is worth setting aside her pride as a solo worker?
She should call him.
Not that she's expecting things to go south, of course. She'll enlist his help just as an extra precaution. The BSAA will show up at the first sign of trouble, and as much as she wants to put her faith in their abilities, she's already witnessed many times the sort of calamities that unfold in the rare (ha!) event they do lose control of the situation. And Ada has zero margin for error this time. Zero. None. Not when she has a very personal stake in the matter.
So, too, does Leon, even if he doesn't know it yet.
How much will she tell him?
How much does she want him to know? Ideally, nothing at all; as much as it pains her thinking about his obliviousness to the whole situation, she knows he doesn't need that burden in his life. Being a government agent is difficult enough without a spy of ambiguous affiliation throwing more complications your way. At the end of the day, she wants him to go home and carry on like she never called him out there in the first place. If only fate would so allow… She smiles bitterly. She and fate have a terrible track record.
Shooting a glance over her shoulder, she sidesteps into a dimly lit alley. No prying eyes have been watching; no one knows she is here. She takes a moment under the shadow of an overhang to gather her thoughts. Part of her is screaming to drop this whole idea, to put down her phone—she's scrolling way too close to his name now in her contacts—and march on out of here and figure the rest out all on her own. The other part is uncomfortably quiet, having run out of rebuttals during the brisk walk from her hotel. Her thumb hesitates over the capital L of his name as her inner turmoil silently rages on.
God, it's cold out here—but the weather has nothing to do with the cold feet slowly setting in. She bristles as the wind picks up and sends litter skittering through the streets.
Then she calls him.
