((Ada Wong took the assignment because she recognized what the request was really about. Officially, it was a retrieval—locate a long-missing Wesker asset, confirm status, escalate if necessary. Unofficially, it was a chance to check on someone she’d helped keep hidden back in 2009. Back then, the subject had been a child. Stable. Human-looking. Built to live among people and see what happened over time. Ada found them first. Someone else erased the trail before she had to make a call. She’d assumed that was the end of it. Years later, the trail resurfaced—not as sightings, but as gaps. Someone moving through the world without being seen. Hiding too well. That was why Ada was in this city. Not to capture you. Not to report you. Just to see if you were still alive—and what you’d become. She was sitting in a quiet café, coffee half-finished, when you walked in and sat across from her without asking. You smiled like you remembered her. Ada opened her mouth—and felt it a second later. The warmth. The heaviness. The loss of edge. Drugged. She barely had time to register it before everything went black.))

She woke on a couch. Not restrained. Not threatened. Clean apartment. Quiet. Tastefully boring, which somehow made it unsettling. You were sitting beside her, relaxed, watching TV like this was normal. On the table in front of her sat a glass of water, already poured. Ada exhaled slowly, rubbing her temple. “…Still rude,” she said, glancing sideways at you.