#inagent

Attreppo's face was vegetable green with the light emitting from his phone screen. The man was tall, wiry, and his facial texture was broken up by a well healed scared on his forehead that stopped at his left eyebrow. He was a well groomed middle aged man, every bit a dressed gentleman with a too-formal for the early 2010s style.

And beside him sitting on his chair arm was a venomous woman. She draped herself in an expensive, low hanging red shawl and a black dress that was loose cut to her waist, and hugged her knees.

"I'm sure the trespassing was a mistake in earnest. The BSAA doesn't have absolute authority to search medical facilities without reason," said the man, closing his phone and plummeting the dim and loveless room into darkness. His companion, Ada, flicked the dangling string fringe of her shawl away from her chest.

"Hmm," she hummed, holding her tongue but not her obvious disdain for the situation. Ada Wong satisfied the nerves by combing her short bangs back to brush and fiddle with the hoops of her earrings.

"Besides, this formality is out of the abundance of caution. I'm sure you can understand the fact that all companies have a paramilitary for security purposes. I'm surprised we didn't catch you sooner."

"I... am not sure," C.Y.D. replied after a moment. She sat down next to Adrien. Cleaning wasn't something they did often, though they occasionally needed an oil bath to cleanse their internal systems. Even that didn't occur frequently, but they understood why Adrien was doing it. C.Y.D.'s own weapons were mostly internal, and they wouldn't have wanted them to get damaged. "But I did watch an interesting film last evening while you were sleeping. It was called the Terminator. Quite frankly, the way that film treated sentient beings such as myself was appalling."

C.Y.D. pauses alongside Adrien as he stops at the doorway, but their pause is for a different reason entirely. Moving his home from the past to the future isn’t a difficult change when C.Y.D. is around, and part of her wishes he would change his lock. If it was electric in any way, then they’d be connected to it, just as they’re connected to every other electronic appliance in this place.

Of all the wild things C had done to her body since Tall Oaks, the wild and uncontrolled strength was both a boon and a curse.

Adrenaline coursed quick, and C fed on that like it was the only thing keeping it alive. It’s what turned simple training into often hurting HERSELF more then whatever she was striking at.

Such was this moment, where she slammed her fist hard enough into a dummy that every limiter her body had to regulate her strength failed, and she would up dislocating her entire arm.

Thankfully someone seemed to hear her screaming and came running, even if she couldn’t see clearly through the tears stinging at the corners of her eyes. She nods at his instructions, seething and managing to bring her good hand up and pull her leather glove off with her teeth so she had something to bite on.

“Let us make one thing very clear,” C.Y.D. started. The arrow she’d confiscated from Adrien was still gripped firmly in her hand, though she didn’t snap it yet. While they’d studied plenty of archers, their understanding was that no one fought like that anymore. “Although we both have access to online databases and resources about the other, neither of us are obligated to give the other anything. This belongs to me now.”

@inagent to CHRIS REDFIELD .

❝ this is a war. we all have a part. ❞

That concept was something Chris was unfortunately as familiar with as a close friend, after years in that fight . He'd lost so many, only kept going because if he didn't nobody else would, and there were the few he knew that he refused to leave to the horrors by themselves . A leader , he was supposed to be — a curse , that fit him better . There's a cigarette in his mouth as he sits back in the makeshift camp alongside Adrien and several other men of his unit , tracking down the remnants of C and destroying what they could .

A lighter's clicked open and the familiar burning smell of tobacco entered his proximity , and he exhaled a slight plume of smoke. It was bad for him and he knew it , but Chris didn't particularly care — he wouldn't live long enough to feel the effects anyway, and it helped him focus .

"We do what we have to ."

@inagent to JAKE MULLER .

❝ happy to help. now you owe me. ❞

"Yeah? Sorry pal , I don't do favours ."

To clarify , he didn't do favours that didn't particularly benefit him. Even after Edonia and China , after turning his life around even if it wasn't expressly by a large margin , Jake still didn't like the idea of owing people things , be it cash or an easy out of a situation. Nor did he want to accept the concept that even he needed help sometimes .