From his vantage point on the rooftop, Jasen lay prone with his scope trained on the Iron Serpents' compound below. The quiet before the storm lasted only a minute more.
Then it happened.
The tactical vans rolled up fast and clean, sirens piercing the early morning silence. STARS members in full tactical gear emerged like a precision unit, flanking both sides of the warehouse. RPD officers followed tight behind, Marvin's team covering the rear. Spotlights cut through the fog.
Jasen watched Chris and Barry take point, moving with years of coordinated experience. Chris kicked the side door open with force, Barry close behind with his shotgun raised. Inside, the chaos erupted instantly—gunfire, shouting, boots pounding against steel floors.
The Serpents weren't going down quietly.
A shootout lit up the warehouse's lower level. Muzzle flashes bloomed like angry fireworks in the dim interior. Jasen tracked Chris as he moved through the ground floor with surgical accuracy, his sidearm barking with every calculated step. Barry handled a flanking route, pinning Serpent shooters with deafening shotgun blasts.
On the second floor, movement caught Jasen's eye. Jill.
She moved with focused energy, her form tight as she and another STARS team climbed a steel staircase under fire. She returned shots with precision, every round finding a target or keeping heads down. Her team covered her like clockwork, giving her room to press forward.
Jasen narrowed his eyes through the lens. The Serpents' leader appeared on the upper floor, barking orders, his right-hand man still woozy and disarmed from earlier. Jill didn't hesitate.
She dropped to cover, popped up, and shot the weapon from the gang leader's hand in one clean motion. Her squad advanced, taking down the rest of the resistance in a matter of seconds. Within minutes, they had the boss in cuffs, dragging him down the stairs to join the pile of captured gang members on the warehouse floor.
Jasen exhaled slowly, heart pounding with adrenaline even though he hadn't fired a shot since extraction.
Then two new vehicles pulled up near the flashing lights.
One, a black SUV.
The other, a dark blue city car.
Out stepped Chief Irons, red-faced and tense, followed by none other than Albert Wesker, wearing his stars uniform and aviators even at night.
Irons stormed toward the warehouse like a man trying to maintain control of a fire already consuming him.
Wesker walked calmly beside him, like a ghost haunting the scene.
Jasen adjusted the zoom on his scope.
Marvin stepped forward from the line of RPD officers, holding a sealed document folder. Behind him, two suited FBI agents appeared, flanking the Chief.
Irons froze. "Marvin? What the hell is this? What the hell is going on?!"
Marvin didn't flinch. "Chief Brian Irons, you are under arrest for obstruction of justice, conspiracy, collusion with known criminal elements, and the unlawful disappearance of multiple citizens."
The FBI agents stepped forward and immediately began cuffing Irons. His protests came in sputters.
"This is ridiculous! You have no proof! You can't do this to me! I am the Chief of Police, damn it!"
Marvin simply stepped back, his expression hard.
Wesker, for his part, didn't say a word. He stood slightly to the side, stoic, arms crossed as he watched Irons get dragged away. His expression unreadable. Cold.
But for a brief moment—just a flash—his head turned.
His eyes flicked upward.
And locked onto Jasen's position.
From hundreds of feet away, Jasen could feel the recognition.
They stared at each other for a heartbeat.
Then Wesker turned back to the scene.
Jasen smirked. He packed up his rifle, folded the legs on the bipod, and slung it over his shoulder.
He climbed down the fire escape, blending into the shadows of the back alley. He made no sound, no rush.
The city had just shifted.
Irons was finished.
And the next phase of the war was just beginning.
Jasen stepped into his SUV and drove silently through the empty night streets, heading for his apartment.
He had a lot to do. And the storm hadn't passed.
It had only just begun.
The sun hadn't fully risen by the time Jasen returned to his apartment. He was dressed differently now—a plain hoodie over a black thermal shirt, gloves stuffed in one pocket, jeans slightly dusted from gravel and rooftop soot. His face was clean but the weight of the night hung in his eyes.
Slung over both shoulders were the two duffel bags—one heavier than the other. He closed the door behind him and dropped them with a low thud onto the kitchen floor.
The scent of high-end tequila hit him first.
Then her voice.
"You should really stop leaving the good stuff out in plain sight."
Ada Wong sat on his kitchen countertop, legs crossed at the ankles, her red coat folded beside her. One hand held a short glass, a half-inch of his most expensive tequila swirling like liquid gold.
Jasen exhaled through his nose, shaking his head with a small smile. "You could at least ask before raiding my top shelf every time you drop in."
"Where's the fun in that?"
He took her in for a beat. This version of Ada was cold, but less guarded than the one he remembered from the games, from the lore. Still enigmatic, still sharp, but not untouchable.
She reached behind her and pulled a compact bundle from her coat—a small envelope, a flash drive, a disc, and a folded note with encrypted signatures.
"I'm here to finish my report. Here's everything I promised. And the rest of my payment."
Jasen nodded. He wasn't surprised.
"You already knew I'd want more," she said, reading his reaction.
"Figured the favor and the fifty grand only got me so far."
Ada gave a small nod. "Everything I turned over? That was a result of your retainer. But the depth? That came from the favor. Because of Leo."
Her voice cooled further. "He helped me back when I was new to this game. Back before his wife... well, that doesn't matter now."
Jasen let the silence settle.
"Alright then," he said finally, moving to the bags. "Help me sort through the aftermath."
Ada slid off the counter, sipping the tequila with a small sigh of approval, then set it down and joined him.
They opened the first duffel—stack after stack of clean bills, tightly wrapped and sorted by denomination. They worked in silence, counting, sorting, organizing.
"Five hundred and eighty-five thousand," Ada confirmed, her gloved fingers lightly tapping the final stack.
Jasen let out a low whistle. "That's more than I expected."
He reached into one of the sorted piles and pulled out a thick stack, sliding it toward her. "One-fifty."
She raised an eyebrow. "That's a bit more than we agreed on."
"I like to stay on good terms with people I may hire again."
Ada gave him a long look. "Practical."
"Always."
She counted the money quickly, tucked it into a slim bag, then leaned against the counter again.
"And the favor? Still active?"
"It is. After September."
"Why then?"
Jasen met her eyes. "Because the next few months, I'm going to be busy. Real busy."
Ada tilted her head, studying him. Then she smiled—a slow, knowing expression that was equal parts charming and dangerous.
"Fine. But don't go back on your word."
Jasen stepped in a little closer. "A man whose word means nothing isn't a man."
Ada gave him a subtle nod of approval.
Her attention shifted to the second duffel. She reached in and pulled out the small black box Jasen had grabbed during the raid. It was sleek, unmarked, and sealed with a biometric lock that had already been disabled.
She opened it.
Inside, nestled in a molded compartment, was a single vial. The liquid inside shimmered with a strange, iridescent hue. The label, though partially faded, was clear enough.
T-Virus: Strain 00X. Experimental Mutagen Variant.
Ada's entire demeanor shifted.
"You know what this is?" she asked quietly.
Jasen nodded once. "Umbrella's product"
That's what Wesker took. The thing that turned him into more than just a soldier. in the games he thought
Ada carefully placed the vial back in the case and shut it.
"Be careful with this. That strain from what I read... it was never meant to stabilize. If it works, it gives you strength beyond anything natural. But the cost? If you're not compatible, it destroys you from the inside out."
Jasen stared at the closed case for a long moment.
"Then I won't use it unless I have to."
Ada stepped closer now, her presence intense. She stood inches from him, looking up slightly. Her tone softened, but her eyes held steel.
"You keep stepping into the fire, Jasen. Just make sure you don't burn everything down around you."
He didn't answer. Just stared into her eyes.
The moment hung between them—intimate, heavy, laced with something electric and unspoken.
Then Ada smiled faintly.
"Nice tequila, by the way."
And with that, she turned, retrieved her coat and payment, and slipped out the door like a shadow.
Jasen stared at the black box for a long time.
The next war was coming.
And he was holding its spark in his hands.