Six Months Later

Amidst the drunken laughter of patrons, through a cloud of lingering second hand cigarette smoke, nobody heard the door to the seedy bar open, or saw the figure walking in. As the old floorboards creaked along beneath the newcomer’s weight, heads turned to look over their shoulders - a group of truckers enjoying a refreshing beer after hours on the road – to inspect. He didn’t even glance at them as he continued along his destination – an isolated table in a neglected corner of the bar towards the back, placed underneath a dying light bulb dimming from as it approached the end of its life. At the table, a raven-haired woman sat with her arms crossed over a modest chest partly covered by the top of her red halter-top. She was the only woman in the bar, and the only person who made no effort to look at him.

But she must have known he was approaching for the floorboards were so old and worn, the weight of a feather would have made their creaks sound like screams of bloody murder.

“Late,” the woman said.

The newcomer gave a smirk that could hardly be seen in the poor lighting. “And you’re on time. Go figure.”

“They didn’t ID you, Kenny?” The comment struck a nerve with the newcomer; not because she called by the name he’d gone by as a child, or that she was making blow to his pride by comparing him with a prepubescent child, but because he knew she was trying to get under his skin. But Kenny wasn’t in any mood to give her the response she wanted.

He wrinkled his nose in all the smoke thickening the air in the bar. “Smells like bitch.”

“Just having a little fun,” Ada said, ruby lips widening into a thin smile.

Kenny snorted and plopped himself in the seat opposite her. The unnatural curve of the seat and the solidity of the wood caught him by surprise. It was no wonder this table was left in such a dark, abandoned corner of the bar. What was a wonder, however, was how Ada could sit there and look perfectly comfortable with barely a wrinkle in her dress or a hair out of place, let alone in a bar full of the gruffest, grungiest truckers Kenny had ever seen.

“Yeah, well I’m not interested in participating in your games. Can we just get this over with?” He looked uneasily over his shoulder at the other patrons, some of who were still eyeing him.

“Umbrella Agent afraid of a little bar-fight?” Ada said in such a passive aggressive tone, that what she said and how she said it offended him on two different levels.

“No I’m just running on a tight schedule,” he replied. “Can’t keep your mom waiting.”

“Hmph,” Ada grunted, “ever the brat you’ve always been.”

She tosed a ring-bound book about an inch thick on the table. It made a loud slam as it came into contact with the wood. Kenny sat opposite her in front of the book and took it in his hands. The table was suddenly bathed in the shadow of a waitress and he instinctively placed the book on his lap and turned it over, cover down.

“Can I get some drinks for you guys?” she asked in scratchy smoker’s voice. Given the atmosphere in this bar, it was possible that she wasn’t a smoker. She certainly didn’t look like one.

“Martini for me, please,” Ada said.

“A pint of Bud,” Kenny added.

“Sure thing. And if I could just see some ID, please.” Kenny rolled his eyes and produced a driver’s license from his pocket while Ada looked down, containing a snicker.

“Thank you,” the waitress said, handing the card back to Kenny. “I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

When she was at a safe distance, Kenny took the book back out and took note of its cover – a simple hexagonal shape made up of inward facing triangles, in an alternating red and white pattern. The logo was placed in the center of the page with the numbers 145.25.2009 written beneath it in delicate italics.

“Some intelligence gathered about the site of your next mission,” Ada explained as Kenny flipped through the book. With her arm still folded, she leaned back against her seat and looked out the window at the rainy night beyond. A few street lamps could be seen, shedding light upon the silhouettes of giant diesel trucks sitting dark, cold and miserable while their drivers sauced themselves up in this stuffy bar.

“This reads more like a tourist handbook,” he commented, eyeing a page carefully.

“Familiarize yourself with the geography, dangerous local wildlife to watch out for, what to eat if you run out of rations, that kind of thing.”

Kenny stopped skimming through the pages and looked at her. “Have you taken a look at this already?” he asked, pointing at the book.

“No, I don’t need to.”

“Mighty cocksure, aren’t you?” Kenny said getting slightly irritated with her passive tone and her arrogance. She hadn’t even made eye contact with him once since he arrived.

Ada shrugged. “That’s because I’m not going. You are.”

There was a brief moment of silence, time Kenny took to understand what he’d just heard. “They’re sending me in alone?“

“Not necessarily. I’ve got something else on my plate. I’m just here to deliver that to you.” She nodded at the book, then added with a touch of sarcasm, “And to catch up on old times, of course.”

“This report gives no information on what I’m supposed to accomplish there,” Kenny said, ignoring her attempts to further infuriate him. Though he’d never admit it, he was impressed by the sarcastic comment. The unspoken hatred between him and Ada was strong and never had to be established verbally. He had to be silent suddenly as the waitress approach with a martini glass filled with a clear fluid, and a glass of beer balancing on a tray she held in one hand. She set the drinks on the table quickly, yet gently enough that the liquid the glasses contained did not spill over their rims. Kenny nodded to her in thanks, but Ada was content ignoring her. The waitress walked briskly away after that, leaving the two to their discussion.

“You are not to engage in combat this time,” Ada explained. “This isn’t the kind of mission where you go in and shoot everything in sight. In fact, if everything goes well, not a single bullet will have to be fired.”

Kenny looked at the pictures printed in the book. They were high resolution, almost artistic shots depicting an exotic landscape he had only ever seen in movies – a simple, humble village with some foreign influences, as its one-storey buildings were constructed of plaster, wood and concrete. Evening sunlight accented their blocky shapes and brought out the old, crumbling and stained textures of their surfaces. Trees stood tall and proud, overlooking the establishment with their ancient forms in a kind of stoic presence.

“What’s the priority status?” Kenny asked, wondering why he’d be sent to such a peaceful looking place.

Ada smirked. “A,” she replied simply.

“You’ve gotta be joking me,” Kenny said, shaking his head in disbelief at the serene atmosphere the photographs suggested. “What could be here that’s so important to us?”

“It’s Africa; the cradle of humanity … and its ailments.”

“Something tells me I’m not going on some anthropological expedition.”

“It also happens to be the hub of black market activities – at least where illegal biohazard material is concerned. Also, there’s something you need to know about this mission,” Ada added as an afterthought.

“There’s always something, isn’t there?”

“We expect that the Bioterrorism Security Assessment Alliance will be present, but we’re not sure in what form.”

“The B.S.A.A. is a joke,” Kenny scoffed. “If they were a serious organization, we would’ve been shut away a long time ago.”

“That’s not the point. You know what that means.”

Ada said this as Kenny was taking in another mouthful of beer. He frowned, partly at the information, partly from the taste. “That there’s something Umbrella needs to rebuild itself? Like all the other missions I’ve been sent on?” He felt gas building up in his stomach and thumped his chest with a closed fist to release it.

“You’re not putting a lot of thought into this, are you?”

Kenny belched. “What? Does this have something to do with Chris Redfield?”

Ada nodded, gracefully ignoring the gas. “Wesker believes Redfield is going to be involved with this one. He’s been aching for revenge ever since the mansion incident. Almost had his retribution, too – in the Antarctic base. You were there.”

“I was bleeding profusely from a gunshot wound,” Kenny replied. “I don’t remember much else.” He took another swig of the beer and the glass was half empty by now.

“And Redfield saved your life.” Ada said nothing for a moment, leaving Kenny to contemplate what this meant. He stared intensely at the glass, turning it between his fingertips. “You owe him.”

“What are you trying to get at?” he suddenly asked sharply.

Ada lifted an eyebrow. “The same thing you’re denying to yourself.”

“I’m not denying anything to myself. I just wish you wouldn’t go digging into my personal files.”

“Redfield’s presence is going to test your loyalty to us.”

“It won’t be an issue,” Kenny promised, although he quickly cast his gaze downward as he said this. That was enough to tell her he wasn’t being sincere.

“We’ll see soon enough,” Ada said. She downed her martini in one graceful gulp and set her glass back on the table. “Wesker will transmit the mission details to you soon. Good luck.” She got up from her seat and walked out of the bar, leaving the bill for Kenny to pay.

“Bitch,” Kenny mumbled as he watched her leave.