No strings attached / Leon s. Kennedy

Chapter 1.

2005, two years after Umbrella's purported dissolution. Unbeknownst to the public, Umbrella has been operating secretly, and it's my responsibility to assist them.

"Torres, there's still a substantial amount of research left to complete," Adams informs me, taking a seat beside me. As the head of the Research team, he relies heavily on my support.

I sigh and glance at him. "More? What else is there to investigate? I thought we were done with the G-Virus. It's been seven years." He shrugs and places a stack of files on my desk. "Sorry, Amber, I'm just passing on directives from Headquarters." Despite his occasional kindness, he burdens me with a considerable workload. I roll my eyes and rest my head on the desk, exhausted after exactly 37 hours and 26 minutes without sleep.

"By the way, Hughes wants to speak with you when you finish. Apparently, it's important," Adams adds as he retreats to his office. Hughes always seeks me out, yet Adams remains the chief instead of me. Am I jealous? Perhaps, but I'd never admit it.

I lift my head and take the stack of files. They date back to 1998. Oswald wants us to meticulously analyze everything that transpired then to prevent a recurrence of such a catastrophe.

Although I occasionally find these historical files on my desk, my primary focus is on investigating potential bio-weapons and analyzing past viral failures. This is likely why there remains a vested interest in G-virus research—it was, after all, their most monumental error.

As I meticulously pore over the research for another six grueling hours, the weight of exhaustion settles deeper into my bones. The clock ticks relentlessly, each passing minute bringing me closer to the end of my shift. Yet, amidst the sea of documents and data, Hughes's looming request hangs over me like a storm cloud on the horizon.

Finally, as the clock strikes the end of my first work period, I gather my papers with a wearied resolve. The office is quiet now, the hum of fluorescent lights the only company in the dimming twilight. With each step towards the elevator, my thoughts spiral into a whirlwind of uncertainty.

Hughes's summons bring forth the long-awaited recognition of my efforts, perhaps even a coveted promotion? Or, more likely, will it be yet another demand from Headquarters, a new task to shoulder in addition to the ever-mounting workload?

The elevator doors slide open with a soft hiss, inviting me into its silent embrace. I step inside, the metallic interior reflecting the weariness etched into my features. The journey upwards feels interminable, each floor passing by in a blur of flickering lights and distant murmurs.

I press the buttons to the 2nd floor and the elevator doors part with a soft chime after just a moment, releasing me into the corridor outside Hughes's office. As I step forward, the muffled sound of voices drifts through the closed door, sparking a flicker of curiosity within me. I pause, straining to catch the snippets of conversation that slip through the cracks.

"...is exceptional but stubborn," Hughes's voice resonates, his tone laced with an undercurrent of urgency. My pulse quickens, anticipation coursing through my veins. What could be so pressing that it warrants such hushed deliberation?

Summoning my coutage, I raise my hand and rap lightly against the door. "Amber Torres," I announce myself, the words carrying a weight of both determination and apprehension.

"Enter," comes Hughes's authoritative command from within. With a steadying breath, I push open the door and step into the room.

I meet his gaze with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. "You wanted to speak with me, sir?" I inquire, the words punctuated by a slight quiver in my voice.

Before Hughes can respond, my attention is drawn to the figure standing beside him—a man whose face is vaguely familiar, yet elusive in its recognition. I furrow my brow, straining to recall where I've seen him before, but the memory remains just out of reach.