No strings attached / Leon s. Kennedy

Chapter 33

"'Project: Alyn, or A, jointly overseen by Dr. Albert Wesker and Dr. Andrew Torres. Objective: Develop a next-generation strain capable of adapting to and enhancing human physiology. Parameters require live human hosts for testing.'"

Her tone is clinical, detached, but every word cuts through me like glass. My breathing quickens, and I take a step forward. "Stop," I plead, my voice cracking. "Please."

Ada keeps reading, her gaze flicking between the document and me, as if daring me to break. "'Initial trials suggest the strain can only bond to a host at the neonatal stage. Injected directly after birth, it fuses with the host's cellular structure, creating permanent genetic enhancements. Secondary testing required for long-term viability.'"

"No!" I scream, tears burning in my eyes. "Stop reading!"

But she doesn't stop. She's relentless, her voice turning sharp, each word like a blow. "'Subject: Amber Lynn Torres. Injected with prototype strain at birth. Subject displays no outward anomalies but retains latent genetic markers tied to the strain's development. Umbrella Corporation advises continued monitoring to ensure containment of viral properties.'"

"Shut up!" I cry, the words torn from me, but she presses on, unflinching.

"'Medical protocol established to suppress viral activity: Subject administered daily doses of compound X-12. Compound inhibits viral growth and maintains baseline human physiology. Without X-12, viral progression estimated to manifest within 72 hours, resulting in—'"

"SHUT UP!" I scream, my voice breaking as tears stream down my face, my body trembling uncontrollably.

Ada snaps the folder shut, her smirk twisting into something dark. "But this is what you wanted, wasn't it?" she asks, her tone venomous. "The truth. To know why they've been feeding you lies your whole life. Well, there it is, Amber. You're not just their pawn. You're their product."

My father, Wesker, the pills, everything—they weren't just controlling me. They made me. They created me. Every part of who I thought I was, who I've fought to be, is a lie.

The words replay in my head like a haunting echo, each one burrowing deeper into my skull, tearing at the fragile pieces of what I thought I knew about myself. Bio-weapon. Monster. Disease. That's what I am. Not a person, not human, but something everyone in this room is fighting against. The very thing Leon and his partner—whoever he is—are here to destroy.

I stare at the ground, my breathing uneven, the rage and horror twisting inside me like something alive. My skin feels foreign, like it doesn't belong to me, like it's holding something else underneath. Am I even real? The heartbeat in my chest feels like a mockery, a cruel imitation of life. Is it real, or just another lie, another function of whatever creation I've become?

The anger boils over, consuming me. How dare she read that. How dare she lay me bare, tear open my very existence, in front of all of them. In front of Leon. His partner, who I don't even know but whose presence feels like another layer of shame. But most of all, Leon.

I'm terrified to look at him, to turn and find what I know is coming. His gun, leveled at me, his expression cold, calculating. I'm the enemy now, aren't I? The mission he's been chasing, the thing he's supposed to stop. Of course, that's what I am to him. How could I be anything else?

I clench my fists, trembling, every nerve in my body screaming to fight, to lash out, to tear this entire room apart if it would make the pain stop. But I don't move. I can't. My whole body feels like it's collapsing in on itself, suffocating under the weight of this truth.

And still, I'm afraid to meet Leon's eyes. Because if I do, and I see that betrayal reflected there—the confirmation that I'm nothing but a weapon to him—it'll break me for good.