3. The Left and the Leaving

At the heart of it, Ada Wong didn't trust Albert Wesker. Not that she should, or he should her. It's just the assignment made little sense at face value. She understood that he wanted her to kill Leon Kennedy, but she didn't understand his motives. She knew he was lying when he had told her he wanted Leon and the Redfields dead because they knew too much. In the six years she had known Wesker, he had never cared who knew what unless they had proof, of which the group had little to none; certainly a statement from the president's vapid daughter would not merit a subpoena.

So, then, what was it? An obvious take on the situation would be punishment; she had disobeyed him to save Leon's life and now she would have to take Leon's life to come under Wesker's good graces again. She knew, however, Wesker would not be that obvious and that's what troubled her. For once, Ada Wong, the woman with all the answers, had absolutely none—and any she could come up with were most likely wrong.

She ran the tube of red lipstick over her lips and then puckered them up, looking into the mirror. Satisfied, she started rummaging through the jewelry box on the armoire. She found a pair of ruby studs and put one in each ear. She smiled at her reflection in the mirror. Aside from a band-aid on her collarbone, it was almost impossible to tell of the morning's incident. She was pleased.

Ada walked to the door fluidly, stepping out into the hallway. The hallway was bustling with men and women in white suits. Some stopped and stared, others whispered; she was a rare sight these days, more often than not out in other areas of the world carrying out missions and her red dress made her stick out like a sore thumb in the sea of white. Ada enjoyed the attention and carried herself proudly as she walked down the halls like she owned them. This was how she slept at night knowing the evil things she did. It was the prestige that ultimately allowed her to accept the betrayal, the lies and the blood on her hands.

A man in a white lab coat reached out for her as she walked by and called her name. The man was slightly overweight, balding and had a chubby head that shined with grease. Ada scowled, showing obvious disgust for his appearance and social skills. "What is it?"

"It's Steve Burnside," the man said. "He woke up."

Ada kept scowling. After six years, Steve Burnside waking up was a miracle, but was precisely that, a miracle and not hers. She wasn't assigned to lab work and Steve Burnside wasn't in her mission. She hadn't even heard the name for years, though she knew exactly who he was. She'd been there by Wesker's side when he took the T-Veronica virus sample from the teenager's infected blood.

"Wesker asked me to tell you that you're taking him with you."

"To D.C.?" she said, in partial disbelief. It seemed fool-hardy to bring a Tyrant to such a populated area, especially on such a low-end mission. Unless, of course, the mission wasn't going to be as unimportant as she was being led to believe it would be.

"Yes." The man's grubby hands handed her a keycard. "According to Wesker, he's lucid enough for the purpose."

"For what purpose? This isn't in my mission outline," Ada said shoving the keycard back into his hands, her face flaring with anger. She had an obvious disdain for the man and didn't want to be bossed around by him.

"It is now, my dear." Ada turned to see the huge figure of Albert Wesker walking towards them in long, jagged strides. She shivered. Even the way he walked wasn't human; he looked like one of his hunters, hulking at them for dinner. "We injected the Plagas into him an hour ago. It revitalized the damage done from Burnside's self-inflicted injury and regenerated his tissue. I never envisioned it like this. The Plagas and the T-Veronica virus working together so seamlessly."

Ada stared at him, her mouth agape. She wondered how he obtained the Plagas. She'd sold the other sample to a rival company for a little over a half a billion dollars and had assured he would have no way of knowing this. If he'd known, she would have been killed, and so she had done everything possible to leave no evidence of her ultimate betrayal. She'd even crashed the helicopter into the mountains of Spain as they made their escape, pocketing the sample and parachuting out of the helicopter as she directed it straight into the mountains with the pilot gagged and tied up, sealed to a fiery grave. This had given her a reason for the missing sample and had avoided any anger on Wesker's behalf.

Taking her silence in, he smiled nonchalantly. It was in that instant that Ada Wong came to an understanding. He knew that she had betrayed him about the Plagas and that was what this morning had been about; that was what her entire assignment was about. Loyalty and betrayal, the thin line Ada Wong always walked, was now being drawn into the sand and he was daring her to cross it. He wanted to see if she would do his bidding against Leon Kennedy, or if he would have to send a Tyrant to do so. He wanted to know how much he could trust her.

He must have known all along there was no helicopter crash or malfunction, she realized. Rather than let on and allow his anger to rage, he saved the knowledge until he could throw it back at her tenfold. He was cool and calculating, meticulous in his ways. He'd probably known everything before she'd even start. She wouldn't have been surprised if he headed the opposing company himself, making it a puppet for competition and using it to catch leaks and potential double agents. Ada inwardly groaned. All this time she had thought she had been pulling the wool over his eyes when, in reality, he'd been pulling it over hers.

"The Plagas is beginning to regulate his anger," he said, still smiling. "It helps control the T-Veronica virus which is particularly prone to excess rage and mutation. We had to freeze him before because the slightest mood change caused him to go into a white rage, killing anyone and everyone in the area then attempting to do himself in. He was useless. The worst Tyrant yet, thanks to Alexia Ashford's lack of foresight in her own virus and her subject."

Wesker leaned a little closer to Ada and she could feel his hot breath on her skin. "But now, now that's all gone. It's seamless."

"Why am I taking him with me?"

"Insurance," he said. His smile went away, replaced with a soured look. He was thinking about her betrayal in Pueblo again. "When he realizes what he is, he will make sure everyone from his former life is dead whether you have second thoughts or not. And I should hope you won't have second thoughts, because he might kill you then too."

Wesker waved his hand at the scientist and Ada. "I'll see you before you leave." His smile returned as he moved away from them, heading back down the hallway.

The man handed Ada the keycard. "Come Ms. Wong, we don't have all day."

Ada took the keycard and composed herself. She moved to the door, her scarlet dress billowing behind her. The man handed her a folder containing the data on the subject. Ada took it gingerly and the man gestured to the door. "This is as far as I go, that kid's an abomination, a real fucking job."

She took a deep breath then swiped the security card and mashed in her security code. She didn't know what to expect; the apprehension pitted deep in her stomach. There was a beep as the airtight door opened and she stepped inside. The room itself was a blinding white, immaculate and bare except for the center. In the center, sitting on a white operating table, was a scrawny teenage boy wearing gray camouflage with decidedly pale skin. His hair was matted and stuck to the sides of his face and his eyes were a burning bright red with yellow irises. He seemed to process her presence, but did not say anything.

"Steve Burnside?" she said. There was no response except his pupils which moved to fixate on her. "My name is Ada. I'm here to help you."

Finally Steve spoke, his voice harsh and dry. "Claire?"

"No, my name is Ada." She skimmed his charts and saw references to Claire Redfield as his only coherent speech so far. He was reliving the trauma of his death and suffering from post traumatic stress disorder.

"Claire," he repeated and Ada sighed, frustrated. Wesker had said he was lucid. He'd lied. The Burnside kid seemed to be no better than any other members of Wesker's genetically mutated family. At least, she thought, he looked remotely human. Though he was pale and his eyes were monstrous, his body was otherwise abnormal for a Tyrant. It wouldn't be too awkward walking around cities with him.

She moved to walk away, but Steve grabbed her. Ada grunted, his hand was noticeably strong. "Claire," he said. His eyes moved up and down her body in a predatory manner.

"Let me go, Steve," she said calmly.

"Claire," he said. He didn't release her, but at least he didn't squeeze any tighter. He could crush Ada like a twig. Despite looking normal, he was definitely one of Wesker's Tyrants.

"Please? I'm not Claire," Ada pleaded. meeting his eyes.

"You're not Claire." He took his hand away then slumped, dismayed. Ada, on the other hand, was anything but dismayed. He was lucid after all, a true medical miracle even if Plagas—something they knew so little about—was involved. A lucid Tyrant had so much potential. He could be the perfect killing machine and that was a distinctly horrifying yet fascinating thought.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Ada asked.

"Claire," he said.

Then he said, "Chasing Claire, and then Claire's crying. And now Claire's leaving, leaving me behind in the dark room, in this dark room, and it's so cold."

"Yes, that's right. She left you for dead and Albert Wesker saved you."

"Wesker?" Steve looked blank and confused. He didn't know who Wesker was, Ada realized. She also thought it could wait for later, when he had more time to process what was happening.

"Steve, this is going to be hard to understand, but I have to tell you," she said, cautiously meeting his eyes. "It's been six years since Claire left you in Antarctica."

"No, that can't be possible," he protested, his eyes lighting up and his expression turning pained as he remembered something integrally important to him. "Oh god, Alexia, she's alive! Tell Claire! Tell Claire she has become a queen!"

He whimpered and jumped off the operating table, starting to pace in the white room with his hands bawled into fists at his side. Ada noticed his stride was similar to Wesker's and oddly inhuman in a way she couldn't place. For several minutes she let him pace while she read his charts, trying to understand the situation, still horrified by the humanity he was displaying.

"Listen," Ada said. He stopped pacing and looked at her with interest. She managed to avoid cringing this time when his eyes met hers. "We're going to see Claire, alright?"

"Really?"

"Yes, but first, let's get you some sunglasses to cover your eyes."

"Claire?"

"Yes," she said, walking out of the room. She handed the file back to the scientist who nodded and left. She suddenly felt very tired and weary. Wesker's mind games were overbearing. She knew now he wanted her to face Steve solely to face her own agenda with Leon Kennedy. It bothered her, though, because she didn't think she was that pathetic about Leon. She didn't look like a broken puppy when she said his name; she didn't even love him. She had moved on from Raccoon City. She was steel, cold to the touch and stoic. The only reason she'd even let Leon live in Spain was because she was using him as cover. There hadn't been significant signs of weakness or an abandonment in her mission; she'd only been going to the highest bidder, nothing more.

Then she began to laugh at the lies she was telling herself. Abruptly in the hallway, still wearing her thousand dollar red dress and black stiletto heels, in a sea of white lab coats, Ada Wong began to laugh like a maniac. She didn't stop for ten whole minutes.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, she went on to carry about her business to find some sunglasses for Steve Burnside. She refused to think any further of Leon, and why the death sentence he was being issued made her stomach sick even though she had just told herself she had no feelings for him.

Note: Thanks for the positive reviews! I appreciate it a lot, and feel free to leave me a review for this chapter as well. I have taken the advice of one reviewer who suggested making it the T-rating. I don't expect much graphic sexuality in this fic, though I suppose the language alone may merit the rating.