Sublevel D – Holding Cell
Ada woke to the chill of steel biting into her wrists. Her arms were stretched and locked above her head, restraints fixed to a reinforced frame bolted into the wall. Each breath fogged the icy air, the plume dissolving in the dim glow of the overhead lights.
Her thigh wound had been cleaned and bandaged, but pain still throbbed with every shift of her weight. The fabric of her red dress clung stiff with blood, stretched tight against her skin. She exhaled slow and steady, adjusting her shoulders until the ache dulled into something manageable.
The walls around her hummed faintly, lined with cameras. She could feel the lenses crawling over her figure, cold and clinical. Watching. Recording.
From the corridor outside, boots echoed—measured, deliberate. Umbrella guards passed by the grated door, rifles slung at their sides. One leaned closer, voice low.
"Our orders are clear. Dr. Weiss wants her alive."
The other snorted. "Alive? She's trouble. Would've been easier to put her down."
Ada's lips curved faintly, though her face remained hidden in the shadows. Men always think violence is the answer.
Her pulse stayed steady, her breathing calm, but behind her mask of control, calculation never stopped. She had been careless—sloppy, even. Boxed in, her leg taken out.
This isn't the first time I've been tied down. And it won't be the last.
The guard outside shifted his rifle against the doorframe. "Dr. Weiss will have his answers. And if she doesn't talk…" His words trailed into something darker.
Ada tilted her head, letting just enough of her face catch the light. A strand of hair slipped across her cheek, her eyes flashing with amused defiance.
"Careful," she purred, smooth despite the pain coursing through her body. "If you boys keep staring, I'll start to think you like me."
The guards stiffened, muttering a curse before walking away. Their boots faded down the corridor, leaving only the low hum of vents pushing cold air into the cell.
Alone again, Ada let the mask slip—just for a moment. She closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the steel frame, the cold burning into her skin. A thought of Jack flickered unbidden across her mind before she shoved it away.
Then silence broke. Footsteps. Heavier. Slower. A measured rhythm, punctuated by the sharp tap-tap of a cane.
The door hissed open, spilling harsh white light across the frozen floor.
Dr. Gregor Weiss entered. His cane struck in precise intervals, his posture rigid, every movement deliberate. Behind him, two Umbrella guards filed in, rifles raised.
Weiss stopped a few paces in front of her, studying her like a specimen. His gaze was sharp, clinical.
"You're skilled," he said evenly, voice neither raised nor mocking. "Too skilled for a common thief. You slipped past Umbrella's security, navigated through Sublevel C's infestations, and made your way all the way to my cryogenics vault."
He leaned closer, watching her face as though searching for the smallest twitch, blink, or hesitation.
"Who are you really? Mercenary? Intelligence agent? Or just a very reckless woman in a red dress?"
Ada's lips curved faintly. A flicker of a smile, sharp despite the restraints.
"Does it matter?"
Weiss's jaw tightened for only a moment. "It will."
He began pacing slowly, cane clicking against the floor. His tone stayed calm. Surgical.
"You've stolen data before. That much is clear. But who for? Umbrella's main branch in Europe? A rival corporation? Government handlers? Or do you simply sell to the highest bidder?"
Ada remained silent, her eyes cold, defiant.
Weiss sighed, his disappointment theatrical. "Very well. I tried civility."
He gestured with his cane toward the guards. "Remind our guest of her situation. I need to return to Sublevel A. Inform me the moment she talks."
The guards stepped forward, closing in on Ada. Her eyes narrowed, her expression never faltering.
One smirked, setting his rifle aside and pulling a shock baton from his belt. Its tip crackled, spitting arcs of blue light. The other rolled his shoulder, slipping on a pair of black gloves with slow, deliberate movement.
"Orders are orders," the first muttered, testing the baton against the steel wall. The snap of electricity echoed in the chamber. "Doc wants you loosened up."
Ada kept her face still, her eyes tracking their movements. She didn't flinch, didn't show fear. She only tilted her head slightly, lips curving faintly.
"Let me guess… he left the hard work to the hired help. How very Umbrella of him."
The words earned her a hard punch to the gut. Air rushed from her lungs, bile rising in her throat. Pain lanced hot through her ribs, but her gaze stayed defiant.
"Hmm. Heavy hands. But sloppy form."
The guard's face flushed with anger. He jammed the baton into her ribs.
CRACKLE!
Ada's body jerked violently, muscles seizing as electricity tore through her nerves. Pain shot up her spine, white-hot and blinding. She gasped, her breath caught in her throat—but still, no scream.
The second guard grabbed her chin roughly, forcing her head up so her eyes met his.
"Talk. Who are you working for?"
Her lips parted, a faint chuckle slipping out through ragged breath.
"Clearly… not you."
The baton struck again, this time against her thigh wound. Fire ripped through her leg, her body shaking in the restraints. She clenched her teeth so hard her jaw ached, refusing to give them the cry they wanted.
Blood seeped fresh through her bandage.
Minutes blurred—shocks, strikes, questions. Each demand met with silence, or worse. A taunting quip.
Finally, the first guard stepped back, sweat on his brow, frustration etched into his face.
"Damn it—she's not breaking."
Ada lifted her head, blood trickling faintly from her lip. Her breathing shallow but steady. Her eyes—sharp, defiant—locked onto them.
"You boys done? Because if this is the best you've got…" Her smirk tugged faintly at her lips, pain lacing every word. "…I'm not impressed."
The guards bristled, ready to continue—
When a thunderous explosion ripped through the corridor outside.
Sublevel D – Holding Cell Perimeter
Jack's POV
Jack moved in silence, hugging the shadows as he advanced through Sublevel D's access corridors. The cold, sterile air here was worse than anything in Sublevel C—clean, clinical, controlled. This floor was still operational, still Umbrella's domain.
The VSS flickered into view, mocking him with its cold display:
[VIRAL SURVIVAL SYSTEM]
Bonds Path – Ada Wong: Dangerous Alliance
Status: Critical – Sustained trauma detected.
Jack's chest burned, fury pressing against his ribs. He swallowed it down, forcing his hands steady as he checked his gear.
M4 carbine. Three spare mags.
Beretta M9. Four full mags.
Two flashbangs from a dead Umbrella guard.
Four breaching charges.
One first aid kit—for Ada.
Standard gas mask, dangling from his harness.
And his resolve, heavier than all of it.
At the far end of the corridor, a reinforced bulkhead loomed. Beyond it lay the holding block—a cluster of interrogation cells used for "special cases."
Jack knelt by the door, unstrapping one of the breaching charges. His hands moved by instinct—wire, primer, clamp—muscle memory carved into him since boot camp. His instructors' voices echoed in his head, but he pushed them aside. He wasn't a recruit anymore. This wasn't training.
"This time, I won't fail," he muttered under his breath.
The charge locked into place with a satisfying click. He set the second beside it, doubling the spread across the reinforced hinges. Both lights blinked red, waiting for his command.
Jack leaned back against the wall, rifle braced tight against his chest. He forced his heartbeat steady, lungs dragging in slow, controlled breaths.
On the other side of that wall, Ada was alive. Hurt, but alive.
He couldn't afford to lose another one—another person he couldn't save.
His thumb hovered over the detonator.
"Hang on, Ada…" His voice was low, gravel-rough. "I'm coming for you."
The charges beeped softly, armed and ready.