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Ada's Day Off

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 The Killer7 was the final straw.

The trouble wasn't that it was a bad handgun, by any means. Bulky magnums just weren’t her style, as she’d told Wesker on several occasions.

But Wesker was in one of his moods. Normal people might get snappy or violent if they were stressed. Wesker mutated into the world’s worst micromanager. He had to dictate every little detail of her missions, from her equipment to her wardrobe. Not overtly--Wesker wouldn’t know straightforward if it clubbed him with a 2x4. Instead, he left her ‘presents’ placed prominently on the desk of her hotel room, with small encrypted notes that always had the same translation: “don’t die.”

Ada balled that note into a tight wad and threw it in the trash, while fantasizing about doing the same thing to the other tightwad in her life. Usually they worked well together because Wesker let her do things her way. Back when they first started out, she’d thought these little bouts of concern were cute. Now she saw them as the symptom they were, of a tightly-wound man who would just keep coiling tighter within himself until someone forcibly broke him down.

She was in no mood to do that unraveling herself. She had a man to kill, a sample to steal, and after that she wanted a day for her own unwinding. She could see it already, Wesker dropping by unannounced with a bottle of wine, a subtle, barbed critique of her mission report memorized for sprinkling throughout the night’s conversation.

What she needed was a distraction. Someone who could hold Wesker’s attention indefinitely without getting themselves killed or, worse, ending up in a laboratory. Her fingers slipped inside her jacket pocket, fondling the little key tucked inside.

Then there was the second problem in her life. Leon had been moonier than usual lately, wanting to talk to her, sneaking close enough to touch her, all the usual warning signs that he hadn’t been laid in a while. Another duty she was usually happy to take care of, for the good of the human race, but not this week.

Couldn’t a girl just have some time to herself once in a while?

She pulled the key out and held it up, turning it over to catch glimmers of light on its teeth. Maybe, if she played her cards just right, she could get her two problems to take care of each other.