Absolution

III: Ada Wong, I Presume? The Bitch in Red

Author's note:

Here we take a moment to examine the darker side of things. We'll spend a moment with Ms. Wong and discover things that dance around inside of her. We'll take a look at the time that Leon and his lady spent together to see how they begin to bond and blend a little more. There is a level of eager darkness to this story that I haven't tapped yet. I do, as you can clearly see, enjoy the sexual side of things as an avenue of enlightenment. I am a sexual creature myself, enjoying the raw intimacy and emotion that stems from experiencing pure physical joy. To build on the love story, we have to see what draws our trio of hapless lovers together, separates them, defines them and ultimately destroys them.

Slainte.

III. Ada Wong, I presume? – The Bitch in Red

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"Love is as much of an object as an obsession, everybody wants it everybody seeks it, but few ever achieve it; those who do, will cherish it, be lost in it, and among all, will never...never forget it."

-Curtis Judalet

Happy Goose Bay, 2017

The Canadian cold would be the death of her. Forget relentless struggles with psychotic, genetically modified megalomaniacs bent on world domination; the cold was going to be her undoing. She was nearly sure of it.

The parka she wore was insulted and the vest beneath warm and secure but Ada Wong was cold. She was cold in her bones. She was cold in her chest and feet. And she hated being cold.

She watched the people shifting and moving in the town below. She saw their faces and listened to their voices. From where she was perched on the highest point of the north mountain range, Ada Wong was the perfect set of eyes to watch the sleepy little village below.

Why was she there?

She'd been tossing that question around for some time. She'd gotten intel several weeks before that had guided her to a remote part of Quebec. A simple matter of masterful interrogation had netted her the answers she'd been seeking for quite some time. Officials with too many drinks were the best source of information.

The direct conflict of what she wanted and what was right came in to play often when she set out on a mission. She was freelance now and had been known to play two sides against each other. She worked with the BSAA when it suited her; she picked up jobs for the other side when it did as well. She rarely compromised her own set of personal morals to serve a lesser god of course so often, lately, she'd been known to tread carefully in the darkness.

The intel she'd collected had insisted that the cloning project she'd been tracking for months was operating in full swing in this sleepy little hamlet. The few pieces of research she'd failed to destroy with Simmons had been bought and sold a dozen times since that fateful trip to China some years before. She'd burned the lab and the findings but not before some masterful little monkey had taken just enough to auction off her DNA to the highest bidder.

Someone out there had the keys to human cloning. She was here because as much as often was known to look the other way for experimentation; the idea that someone was trying to make another inferior version of herself was just annoying enough to get her dead set on destruction. Once she was set, of course, there was no stopping her. And woe befall anyone who stepped in her way.

The official in Quebec with verbal diarrhea had been happy to share the news that the most recent person to purchase the classified intel had ties to the former arms dealer, recently deceased, known as Glenn Arias. It was interesting that any of Arias' associates had made it out of New York alive. Leon was generally better at cleaning up mess then that especially with the BSAA backing the operation. It seemed though that both Chris Redfield and Leon Kennedy had failed at stopping the spread of Arias' madness after all because someone here in this remote iceburg of a town was up to no good. And she'd be damned if she had to go to poorly dressed toe with another inferior doppelgänger.