Many thanks to Maiafay for beta reading this chapter!

Chapter 2

Two weeks earlier…

Ada Wong peered from behind a shipping container, keeping her breathing as quiet as possible. The shadows hid her well, but the guard less than five feet away could still hear her if she was careless. The little convoy of cars she had tailed to the shipyard had parked a while ago, but only now did the passengers exit and make their way towards the dock. It had given her plenty of time to park some distance and infiltrate the compound; inside, it was crawling with hired guns.

It was night, but illuminated as the shipyard was, packing night vision would have been dead weight. Ada fished into the inner pocket of her leather jacket, then pulled out a plain optical scope, taking one quick glance at the guard's back before lifting it to her eye to spy on the group some distance away.

There he was, along with what had to be a few dealers and some meaty bodyguards. He wasn't hard to pick out, laughably shorter than the others.

Irving…you're a little toady looking thing, aren't you?

It was about time she picked up his trail. Ricardo Irving was a hard man to find. Hardly surprising though, given that he was one of the top arms dealers of the century. She had spent the better part of three months trying to track him down. It had been a long, sleepless, and uncomfortable search, and she had used her own healthy share of bullets, but now it was starting to pay off.

Through the lens, she couldn't make out what they were saying, but they passed briefcases between them. Irving, moving in an odd sort of lanky way given his height, didn't seem to be on edge—or if he was, he wasn't showing it. The man looked greasy in every sense of the word, a cross between a rodent and something that crawled out of a swamp. The way he cocked his head and smirked made it seem like he owned the world and everything in it.

The guard shifted in place, and she pulled back behind the container, content with her luck so far. She slipped the scope back into her jacket as she stepped back quietly on the gravel. Being this far away wasn't solving anything. She needed to get closer, close enough to shove the barrel of her Beretta in Irving's mouth so she could ask some questions. And she needed to do that without getting shot in the process.

She slipped between two more containers, keeping her eyes on the little party before her. After a few minutes, the group adjourned, taking their respective payments with them. A group of three men talking with Irving and his guards moved back towards the convoy of SUVs parked in the dark, headlights still blazing. Irving, however, spun on his foot and swaggered towards the dock with his muscle, one of the cases in his hand.

Shit, he's going out on the freighter. I didn't think of this…

A large freight ship was tethered to the dock, filled with more containers like the ones she hid behind. Either Irving made a purchase, or he was going to deliver a shipment himself; she wasn't quite sure what the man was doing. All her information had told her (after a few hours of 'encouragement') was that a deal was going down, and Irving was going to be there.

Gravel crunching made her freeze, but only briefly. She crouched low and pressed her body into the shadow of the container. It was one of the guards, maybe the one she had been hiding behind earlier. She bit the tip of her tongue as she held her breath, slowly moving her hand to her gun holstered beneath her arm. It had been easy enough to get another Storm, but not a silencer. One shot and the whole yard would go crazy.

But the guard meandered away from her, the dark frame of a submachine gun propped on his shoulder as he puffed on a cigarette. Ada breathed in relief, and then moved to another hiding hole. Irving was already on the deck of the ship, and after a few moments, she lost sight of him.

Irving seemed ready to go, but the boat wasn't. Trucks were loading more crates into the hold, the big military kind with canvas backs. They were passing awfully close to her position.

Think…take the risk, or wait who knows how long to find him again. I won't be able to track a boat.

She didn't have the time. The truck's lights washed over her hiding spot, forcing her to duck, and as soon as they passed, she popped back out and carefully glanced at her surroundings. Hoping she didn't miss a guard looking her way, she sprinted towards the side of the truck. The entire two seconds felt like two hours, but no one yelled or shot as her gloved hand closed around the frame of the back of the truck. Quick and easy, she hoisted herself up and over the truck bed, then crouched behind a metal barrel.

The truck lumbered onto the ship. She felt the vibrations change as the vehicle passed from solid ground to the small loading bridge over the water, then to solid steel, and all the while she tensed for something to happen. If they for some reason decided to check the back, she was screwed, plain and simple. But then again, nothing ventured, nothing gained. If she got what she wanted, the entire time spent waiting and planning would be well worth it.

A short while later, the truck's paced crawled, then stopped altogether. Doors slammed. Ada heard voices and braced herself. She had the element of surprise. Take out maybe two at most, probably unarmed lackies, and have time to hide the bodies. That would give her some time…assuming they were alone, of course…

But the voices trailed off, and all that was left was the light ticking from the cooling engine. She counted off a solid two minutes from her thin silver Movado watch, then climbed out of the truck. The inside of the freighter was pretty unremarkable; industrial hallways cut straight from steel, nuts and bolts painted over with gray and green. Close quarters, but if Irving was transporting weapons illegally, it would be a skeleton crew and a few guards.

A rumble down the hold announced another truck. She quickly hugged the wall before the headlights came, then slipped through an open hatch. The decks were labeled, and from the number B30 painted next to the hatch, she was towards the stern of the ship on the second-lowest level.

She worked her way deeper into the ship, ducking into the many nooks and crannies to avoid confrontation. As she moved into an empty corridor, a mindless thug passed. There wasn't time to search the entire ship, and there was no way to stay hidden without drawing some sort of attention.

So she decided to ask someone. Literally.

She tailed the guard for a little bit, and her luck continued. He moved into a small room, even propping his weapon against the wall on his way in as he busied himself with something at a small table. Ada sidled into the room, and by the time he heard her, it was too late. She grabbed his left arm, then kicked the back of his leg, dropping him to his knees. At the same time, she slammed his face onto the work bench. His groan of agony confirmed he was still conscious.

"Irving. Where is he?"

The guard grunted and slurred something out that sounded like a few foul words. She paused for a few seconds, then tightened her fingers in the mange of his dirty hair and slammed his head down again. This time, the impact sounded a little wetter. "Where is he?"

"He was…up topside…" the guard gasped through pain. Blood dribbled down his face from his split forehead. "Probably on the bridge-"

She'd heard enough. She grabbed her gun and wacked the butt of it onto the back of his skull. His head bounced off the bench one final time before he slid to the ground, unconscious. She took a few seconds to drag his heavy limp body to a corner out of immediate sight, and then shut the hatch behind her.

So Irving was on the top deck, probably. She would have to check and see. Before she made her way up, however, there was a little detour on her schedule…

PING!

Ada ducked low behind the metal crate as a bullet whizzed past her ear. It struck the metal hull, so close she could feel the minute vibration hum all the way in the soles of her boots. She swept out of cover, crouching low and fired a double tap in return. The overeager shooter leaning out from behind a corner took both rounds in the chest.

And everything had been going so smoothly…

All it took was one tiny mistake, and everything collapsed like a skyscraper built on a beach. One guard had spotted her, only one, and before Ada silenced him, his weapon discharged, the single report raising the alarm all over the ship. Now she was booking it to the bridge tower where she hoped Irving was holed up.

Much to her dismay, the top deck was a death zone. Irving's hired guns had plenty of time to dig in and find cover on top of containers, behind walls, up on catwalks and in hatches. Every corner was lit by bright spotlights that left no room to hide. Within seconds, gunfire from various weapons had her pinned down in the cargo entrance hatch towards the bow of the freighter.

"Guess it's time for Plan B," she muttered to herself as she dug into her coat, procuring a small detonator. She set her teeth, and then depressed the switch.

A tremendous explosion rocked the boat, nearly throwing her off her feet. She couldn't see the orange fireball that blasted through the reinforced steel of the hull, but the black smoke it formed quickly billowed up from the back of the ship. It had been a fairly small charge she set, but when placed near a few barrels marked flammable, it made quite the difference.

Only now, she had a time limit. They were a little over a mile out in open water, and a giant hole in the side of the ship meant it would start taking in water, and fast. She hoped the resulting panic would coax them to forget about her.

With the explosion fresh in everyone's minds, Ada sprinted forward onto the open deck before the stunned gunmen could lock onto her again. She just made it to a line of freight containers when the bullets started up. The mercenaries had numbers, but she was the better shot, even with just a handgun.

Somewhere inside her head, near her ears, Ada felt her equilibrium shift slightly. It wasn't pushing for her attention as much as the bullets were, but it was warning her that something was off. Then she realized it: things were starting to slant just the slightest it. The boat was going down all right, from the stern. The charge must have blasted a bigger hole than she thought.

Her battle soon became an uphill one. Only minutes later, the steel floor of the ship deck now slanted in a gentle slope. The gunmen positioned throughout the deck, however, still remained adamant in their defense, and continued to fire.

Metal started groaning. Ada glanced up at the freight container above her, then scuttled out of the way. It tipped with a mighty metallic clatter, sliding a few feet before wedging against sturdier objects. More were starting to slide, and finally, her adversaries began to realize the chaos of the situation. Over stray gunfire, a loud crash cut off a scream.

It became every man for himself as the boat began to near a forty-five degree slant, the bullets mercifully ceasing. Ada had to grip at the floor and press the soles of her feet into the bulkhead to find a foothold to continue moving forward. A large container to her right broke free from its brace, and screeched down the deck in a flurry sparks before slamming into another, toppling up and over into the air before landing onto the back of the hull.

Ada tore at the leg of her pants, removing her grapple gun from the ankle holster. The sense of equilibrium in her head was warning her that she was seconds away from sliding down the deck. She aimed it above and fired, sending the metal claw into a heap of metal near the catwalk on the bridge tower. It stuck firmly, and she let the return cable drag her up the deck, pushing away from obstructions as she ascended.

The cable retracted fully, but before she could free it and use it again, she saw the gunman. He'd been crouched on the end of a container, and was lining up a shot with an assault rifle. She quickly hoisted her gun up and fired from her suspended state. One bullet hit for sure, but that was all it took to send him off his roost and spiraling down the slanted deck.

Ada got a firm handhold, ripped the claw free from its anchor, then reached and took hold of the railing on the catwalk, hoisting herself up and over. Carefully stepping on the railing, she stumbled over to the hatch that led to the bridge.

With a grunt, Ada twisted the latch and hoisted herself in. Gunfire was there to greet her. Even in the skewed room, she kept her footing and spun to the side—at the same time tracking the origin of the bullets. She squeezed off a round. First the gun clattered beside her, followed by a body rolling down the floor which smacked against an interior window.

More shots rang out, forcing her to retreat behind a panel.

"Well ain't you a feisty one?" came a weasely voice.

"Nice to meet you too, Irving," Ada called up to him. She hadn't gotten the best look at him, but she had been pretty lucky that he was a poor shot. He was up and at an angle to her like everything else, hiding behind a console. Ada herself was securely wedged between the hull and another console bolted to the floor. "I don't suppose you'd mind answering a few questions?"

"Like what? How much you'd like to pay for sinkin' my merchandise?"

Even his voice sounded greasy and foul. The way 'merchandise' came out as 'moy-chan-dice' placed him from New Jersey, and while he was there he picked up every known cliché to the accent possible. He sounded pissed, but the tone his voice took made it hard to take him completely serious.

"No, not really," she said. "How about who's been supplying you with biological weapons? I know you worked for my former employers, and I'm curious if you're still dealing with them. If you are, I'd like to know where they are."

He laughed like a hyena cackling. "What kind of business d'you think I'd get if I told everyone the names of my clients? Sorry, toots, ain't gonna be that easy."

"Well, the way I see it, you can either tell me now when I'm ready to listen, or I can shoot both of your kneecaps, and then you can tell me." Ada gritted her teeth. Through a small porthole between her feet, she saw water overtake the entire bow of the ship where she had been about 5 minutes earlier. If Irving didn't cough anything up soon, things were going to get interesting very fast. "I already have an idea of who you're working for. It's not the average terrorist who can get a sample of the T series. I'll drag you off this ship with bleeding knees if I have to."

"Sounds like fun, but I think I'll pass. At least you'll be going down on me," cackled Irving, causing Ada to suppress a gag at his choice of words.

A low buzz sounded over the rumbling of the sinking ship. She realized what it was immediately: helicopter. She swore and swung out of cover just as Irving did, but he beat her to the punch, fired his gun, and forced her back. He jumped wildly across the slanted room to another hatch.

"Sucka!" he yelled back at her as he disappeared through.

Clawing her way up the angled bridge, Ada gave chase, but by the time she made it to the hatch, the helicopter that was Irving's getaway was already pulling away from the deck. He waved to her from the interior of it, then extended his middle finger with a triumphant grin. She responded by raising her gun and squeezing off one round. She heard it ricochet off the interior, causing him to shriek and tumble back. The craft spun and buzzed off towards the mainland.

Unable to hide her frustration, Ada slammed the rail, letting loose another curse.