Chapter 21

Ada kept the muzzle of her Beretta PX4 pressed firmly against the nape of Crow's neck, feeling very satisfied with how he walked right to her. She slipped her PDA into her vest pocket, plucked his from his hand, still pressed against his ear. He seemed to have frozen solid, but twitched when she tossed the device across the room, a panel on the back of it breaking off as it bounced clattered against hardwood floor.

Funny how after all this time, all it took was a little phone call.

She grabbed him by the scruff of his collar, then spun him around to face her. If he had shown any fear while he was turned away, he had quickly wiped it away. He smirked back at her, looking exactly like she imagined whenever she heard his snide, pompous accent. It was a little disappointing that his look didn't change when she moved the muzzle to the underside of his jaw, not being gentle about it at all, but she wasn't going to get ungrateful now.

"Very impressive," he said approvingly. "You really had me there."

"I really have you now," she corrected, meeting his grin with a smirk of her own. She drew back her gun and cracked the frame across his temple.

Crow grunted and slumped against the desk, but she grabbed him by the collar again and hauled him up, replacing the muzzle back against his jaw. He winced, holding the spot she struck, which was now running with blood. That seem to instigate a more appropriate reaction, she noted with appreciation as he looked at the blood on his fingers, then glared at her.

"That was uncalled for," he said through his teeth. "Not to mention very rude."

"I could do worse," she threatened. After how good it felt, she considered hitting him again. "Just give me a reason to."

She expected a comeback, but instead, he stayed silent, at least initially. He met her eyes, but then glanced down, and she felt that invasive stare of his wash down her body. Normally, she was used to the visual undressing, but coming from him, it felt colder.

"A little disappointing, I'm afraid," he said, remarking at her clothes. "Not even red."

She had picked up a set of black fatigues at an army thrift store, along with a vest over a black shirt. It had been difficult on such short notice, and in a foreign country, but she still knew a few tricks about procuring equipment. In addition to her standard Beretta, she had two extra sidearms, plus some armor inserts for her vest, and even a few hand grenades. The armor was a little comforting to have against her chest, but that didn't keep the cold thought out of her mind:

It was possible this was going to be a one way trip. But first…

"Where's Wesker?" she demanded, ignoring his comment.

Crow snorted, looking at her like she had gone crazy. "Wesker's dead, Ada, as I'm sure you already know. The BSAA saw to that in Romania."

"Wesker died and came back once before," she replied. "I don't think he would let death stop him this time, either. You're going to tell me where he is, and then you're going to tell me who you're working with."

Crow grinned again. "Feeling second thoughts about killing me outright as you just said mere minutes ago?"

She pressed the gun a little harder against his jaw, bringing her face close to his. "I didn't figure you were a man who was in a hurry to die, Crow," she hissed.

"Or maybe it's because I'm more use to you alive than dead?" he mused, not really meeting her gaze, like he was thinking of something else. "Maybe I do know where Wesker is, and what he has planned. I certainly know why I happen to be here at this conference, though I doubt you do."

She bared her teeth, partly in frustration, partly out of disgust. She didn't expect him to have this much spine.

"Maybe I should just kill you now then," she threatened, bringing the hammer back on her gun. "Save myself the time and start working on Wesker instead."

"Oh, please do try," Crow said. His eyes glinted with a hidden mischief. "We are in the middle of a booked hotel, alone together at the moment. While this somewhat fulfills one of my fantasies, the more pertinent thing to notice is that we are surrounded by a heavily armed security force. Shoot me, you alert them all, and the chances of your death are guaranteed."

She still held him tightly by the collar, and he wouldn't dare make a move with a cocked gun in his face, but she felt his body tense. Other than his face, name, and personality, she didn't know enough about Crow to get a sense for how he could fight. Suddenly, confronting him without back up seemed a little stupider than she thought it would.

Her options were limited, and he wasn't lying. She could kill him, but then she would have to high-tail it out, and getting in the way she did had been difficult enough. She did some quick recon earlier, and she knew that she didn't have the ammo or the firepower to shoot her way out directly, either.

Something wasn't right. He kept avoiding her questions and taking her hits, egging her on and trying to make he do something stupid, which he knew she wouldn't do, which meant—

—he was buying time.

A tapping knock sounded at the door. "Signore Crow? Is everything alright?"

Her head twitched in the direction of the voice at the door, her eyes glancing away for only a brief instant, but it was enough. Crow lurched forward and shoved the gun away. At the same time, he butted her in the head, the impact sending spots to her eyes.

The gun went off, impossibly loud in the small room, and he was on her, pushing her back until they slammed against the wall. Ada recovered from the surprise, but her gun slipped from her grasp.

He had the element of surprise, but that was it. He held her tightly by the arms, but she broke the hold, snapping a punch to his jaw, which crumpled him instantly. She followed up with the instep of her combat boot across his face for good measure, then made a grab for her gun, but he caught her ankle with a blind kick, dropping her to a knee before she got to it. It was just enough for him to get back on her, tackling her to the floor.

Again, it didn't take much to shrug him off, and this time she booted him against the desk, giving her enough time to retrieve her weapon. But by then, the damage was already done.

"You didn't think that my associates wouldn't notice my absence, would you?" he grunted with a pained laugh. "I never thought you'd develop a case of tunnel vision. So much for slipping out unnoticed."

"Weaseley little shit," she swore, training the gun on him. She heard the footsteps in the hall. A lot of them.

"Go ahead," he dared, laughing and coughing, "Pull the trigger, Ada. Then what? Exit through the window? I don't see you with your handy little grappling hook, and it's a considerable fall. Going to escape on broken legs?"

It was like he set a trap without even trying. She had come with the intent to get the last pieces of the puzzle, then kill him and be done with it. Now, over a matter of minutes, he was able to manipulate and trick her right into a corner. Yes, she could still blow his head off, but the victory would be short lived when the security forces cut her down. The worst part was that she dove headlong into it and didn't even think it could happen. Overconfident.

The footsteps stopped at the door, and immediately, something started to pound against it. She had seconds…

Give them a reason not to shoot you.

She smirked through her tussled bangs, then stooped over, grabbing him by the knot of the tie. "Get up!"

He seemed perplexed, and she took small satisfaction that this was something he didn't think of. He grunted as she yanked him up, and once he was on his feet, she wrapped her arm around his neck and put him in a headlock, just as a burst of gunfire tore through the door lock.

Six men swept in, some wearing suits and ties, others wearing uniforms and armor. All of them carried guns. They moved in on her fast, professionally, taking up firing positions, but stopped when they sighted her holding Crow at the neck in front of her, a gun to his temple.

That didn't stop them from leveling their weapons at them, much to Crow's displeasure.

"You idiots!" he roared, "Don't point those at me!"

With him between her and the gun muzzles, she had to peer over her wrist and Crow's shoulder to see the guards. She was pressed close against him, her face in the crook of his neck. It was enough to get a whiff of his cologne. It wasn't a bad smell; in fact, it made him smell very attractive. It was knowing who it was on that made her sick.

Her plan worked, and at least she was staying alive a few seconds longer than the alternative; they didn't open fire on sight. Some of the guards even stepped back a little and turned their guns away at Crow's strangled shriek.

Test the water further.

"Back off," she growled to them, taking a few awkward steps forward. Crow was resisting to some degree, but she tightened her choke hold and he quickly complied with a gasp and went still in her arms.

While some of the guards complied with Crow's screech, others still had guns on them, carefully watching for a clear shot. She dragged him forward, and they backed away, but tracked her every movement. From the office to the suite's living room, then to the door to the hallway, she kept Crow between her body and their guns, her weapon pressed against his head and her finger tight on the trigger.

"Intending to drag me out the front door, Ada?" Crow rasped. The guards filed out of the room behind her, following her into the hall, but always giving her that respectable distance. Despicable as he was, it seemed they couldn't afford to spill his blood. At least this quickly. "Then what?"

"I haven't thought that far ahead," she admitted tersely in his ear. "But the way I see it, as long as I have you out in front, I have the advantage."

"So adaptable."

"Shut up."

She continued to back down the hallway, starting to round the corner to the stairs. It was still just the six of them, but sooner or later she'd be dealing with an army—

—something grabbed her wrist, turning the gun away from Crow's head. It went off, and he reflexively jerked back, slamming the back of his head into her nose, her eyes watering.

He slipped from her grasp, but Ada was too preoccupied with what still had her wrist: it was another guard. He'd been waiting around the corner and managed to surprise her. She reacted quickly, even with her blurred vision; a short jab to his throat with her free hand, which made him drop her wrist, and she followed up by thrusting her knee into his skull. By then the other guards had lined up a shot and opened fire even before he dropped to the ground.

The shots went wild, and as Ada threw herself into a doorway to avoid the salvo, she saw Crow scampering down the hall in a hunched run. She lifted her gun and fired, but cramped under cover and at a bad angle, she missed three shots. The second shot landed close, tearing a hole in the next to him and showering him with bits of plaster, but he blew through the stairwell unscathed.

Goddammit!

A bullet zinged past her ear, splintering the doorway and sending hot splinters into her ear. Ada dropped to a crouch, drawing another one of her guns and stuck them around the corner, pulling the triggers blindly. After half a dozen rounds, she leaned out and kept firing. She wasn't concerned with the fact that she wasn't hitting anything.. She just needed to keep slinging lead at them to keep them down as she backed down the hall.

Both of her weapons clicked empty before she made it, and the return fire came immediately. Now that Crow wasn't downrange, the shots were a lot closer. Something hit her chest hard, enough to flare up the phantom pain in her ribs. She stumbled back against into a doorway for cover, a mushroomed bullet protruding from her vest.

Trying to shake off that chilling feeling of getting shot and surviving, she slammed another clip home in her Beretta and fired around the corner to suppress them. Instead of bringing up her other gun, she thumbed the pin free of one of her grenades, then pitched it down the hall with, chasing it with a few last bullets before turning into a run.

The guards yelled and retreated, fast. Ada sprinted down the length of remaining hallway, lowering her shoulder into the door—

BOOM

—and tore through it just as the explosion rang out. She could feel the concussion against her back, and she slipped and nearly pitched headlong down the steps. Instead, she rolled down two steps and managed to catch the railing, breathing fast. Her back was sore from the fall, but armor took some of the punch, and she didn't feel any hot shrapnel sticking out of her. Not bad for a grenade in an enclosed space, but her ribs ached dully.

She got up, pushing any pain out of her mind, even if it flared with every breath. If any of the guards had survived, they'd follow her, but they might hold back if they knew she was carrying that kind of firepower. At either rate, she needed to move. Crow had a head start, and all she needed was a clear shot and a single bullet.

Gunfire was there to greet her when she barreled out of the stairwell. She was in the lobby of the hotel, some straggling civilians crossing the floor to flee the gunfire and explosions. There were three guards, one of them armed with an automatic submachine gun, the others with handguns.

Ada dove, firing wildly with two of her guns. One gun clicked empty, which she dropped in order to get a hold of a table to tip it over for cover. She didn't see where it landed, so she drew the remaining one and kept firing. People screamed and yelled, those close enough to the exits running, others simply dropping to the floor and covering their heads.

She managed to catch the one with the automatic in the chest, and he dropped like a sack of bricks. The others fired back, one from behind a loveseat, the other behind the reception desk. She dropped behind the table as return lead flew by. It was just barely thick enough to stop the rounds, but the back began to splinter as more and more fire was laid on it. One broke through and zinged across her shoulder. She gasped as hot pain spread, the bullet clipping the edge of an armor plate. It wasn't a direct hit, but she felt warmth trickling down her arm.

She flung herself to the side, leaning out of cover and leveled one of her guns, aiming oddly down the sight while everything else was sideways. Her aim held true as she pulled the trigger three times, the target behind the loveseat taking two of the three bullets in the torso.

There was a break in the fire from the remaining guard behind the desk. Ada lunged forward and sprinted the distance between them firing with both arms outstretched. The shots cratered the marble countertop, keeping him pressed down against his cover. She jumped, her butt landing on the countertop, and she slid, firing her last few rounds straight into his back as she slid by.

Her feet had barely touched the floor before she was running again, discharging another spent magazine and replacing a fresh one in her Beretta, discarding her other empty gun. There wasn't enough time to hassle with another gun in her other hand and reload it while someone could get the drop on her.

Crow wouldn't have run outside; he'd go for the protection of the security, deeper into enemy territory. She was sure of it.

A sign pointed her down the hall, back towards the main ballroom. She set her teeth, then lowered her shoulder crashed through the double doors—

—just in time to see a wall of weapons leveled at her.

She skid to a halt, raising her weapon instinctively, but froze when she realized how many there were. There were at least a dozen in front of her, half of them armed with automatic weapons, and those were just the ones she could see. She raised her eyes, picking out four more on a balcony above. There was movement up and behind her, probably a few more on another balcony, but she didn't dare take her eyes off the ones in front of her. Footfalls entered behind her seconds later, followed by the click of guns. She was surrounded.

And in the center of all of them stood Crow, a sly smirk across his face and a revolver in his hand. Her gun centered on him as if pulled by a magnet, but it was pointless. The sinking feeling had already crept into her gut. They had her. Cold.

He cleared his throat. "Game over, Miss Wong."