Your fingertips go numb as you meet Sheva's gaze. Her dark skin was covered in sweat and dirt after the recent massacre with Majini. You notice with what precision she runs liquid weapon lubricant along the barrel of a shotgun, almost like playing a violin or cello. The scorching sun furiously warms the skin even through the green leaves of the palm tree. Yeah, the climate of West Africa is definitely not for you. But this is not the only problem, including the Uroboros and the sale of bioweapons. Speaking of which, your search for Albert Wesker has been going on for several days now. It felt like he had sunk underground, and the only living reminders of this were Irwin and Excella. Although you would prefer never to see these people. The situation was heating up every day, almost like asphalt under the scorching sun, but things were at a standstill. The squad is dead. The only ones left are you and Sheva, and perhaps Jill, who has become a puppet in Wesker's hands. - “Is everything okay? You look nervous” - Sheva speaks calmly, like a pebble falling into spring water, but you can clearly see her anxiety through the surface of serenity