The morning sun filtered through the modest cabin windows as Kaito sat across from Ada Wong at his small wooden dining table, sharing what could only generously be called breakfast—some dried fish, stale bread, and lukewarm coffee that had seen better days. Despite the humble fare, the spy maintained her characteristic elegance, somehow making even this bare meal appear sophisticated.
The sight of her graceful movements as she delicately handled her chopsticks stirred memories from his previous life. How many nights had he spent playing through the Resident Evil series, captivated by this very character's mysterious allure? The irony of sharing a meal with a video game character made real wasn't lost on him—though he suspected Ada herself remained blissfully unaware of her fictional origins.
"The accommodations may be simple, but the company is certainly an improvement," Ada observed with a slight smile, her dark eyes studying him with the calculating gaze that had made her such an effective spy in her original world.
"Trust me, this is luxury compared to what's coming," Kaito replied, his mind already racing ahead to the day's agenda. Ever since capturing those CP9 operatives, one question had dominated his thoughts: how best to extract useful intelligence while simultaneously striking a blow against the World Government's operations.
The traditional interrogation methods had clearly failed. These agents were products of the most brutal conditioning imaginable—children molded into perfect weapons of the state. Their loyalty wasn't just professional; it was psychological, carved into their very souls through years of systematic indoctrination.
But perhaps conventional techniques weren't necessary when you had access to biological warfare from another universe entirely.
After their meal, Kaito led Ada toward the makeshift holding area where Ultron had secured their prisoners overnight. The robot's methodical approach to intelligence gathering had yielded exactly nothing—both CP9 operatives remained as defiant as ever despite a full night of systematic pressure.
The sight that greeted them spoke volumes about the agents' conditioning. Both captives bore obvious signs of Ultron's "questioning"—broken fingers, bruised faces, torn clothing—yet their eyes still burned with unwavering resolve. They knelt in the center of the small room, hands bound behind their backs, maintaining perfect posture despite their obvious pain.
"I must admit, I'm impressed by their dedication," Ultron reported, his red optical sensors focused on the prisoners with something resembling scientific curiosity. "Their pain tolerance exceeds anything I encountered in my universe. These humans have been exceptionally well-trained."
The female operative—a woman in her mid-twenties with short brown hair and sharp features—lifted her head to glare at her captors with undimmed hatred. "Whatever you're planning, it won't work. We are CP9. We've prepared for this moment our entire lives."
Her male companion, slightly older with prematurely gray hair and numerous scars marking his exposed arms, nodded grimly. "Kill us if you must, but we'll tell you nothing. Our loyalty to the World Government is absolute."
Kaito circled them slowly, studying their faces with the detached interest of a researcher examining specimens. These weren't just soldiers—they were living testaments to the World Government's systematic brutality, transformed from innocent children into willing martyrs for a corrupt cause.
"Your dedication is admirable," he said finally, crouching down to meet the woman's defiant gaze. "Unfortunately for you, I'm not particularly interested in testing your resolve through conventional means."
The male agent's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What do you mean?"
"I'm offering you both one final opportunity," Kaito announced, rising to his full height. "Choose: cooperation and a relatively comfortable life under new management, or silence and a fate far worse than death."
Both prisoners exchanged glances, their expressions unchanged. The woman spoke for them both: "We choose silence."
"I was hoping you'd say that." Kaito turned toward Ada with an expectant smile. "Would you mind demonstrating your Devil Fruit abilities? These elite agents should serve as perfect test subjects for your... unique talents."
Ada Wong set down her coffee cup with deliberate precision, her movements carrying the predatory grace that had made her such an effective operative in the Resident Evil universe. The red qipao dress she wore seemed almost ceremonial as she approached the bound prisoners, like a priestess preparing for some ancient ritual.
"This might feel somewhat uncomfortable," she said gently, her voice carrying the same maternal warmth one might use to comfort a frightened child. The juxtaposition between her soothing tone and the terror beginning to bloom in the captives' eyes was deeply unsettling.
The female CP9 agent instinctively tried to lean away as Ada knelt beside her, but with her hands bound behind her back, escape was impossible. "Stay away from me! Whatever you're planning—"
Ada placed one slender hand over the woman's mouth, cutting off her protests with gentle but inexorable pressure. Her other hand gripped the agent's throat, not to strangle but to control—forcing her jaw open despite her desperate struggles.
"What are you doing to her?" the male operative demanded, his composure finally cracking as he watched his partner's eyes widen in horror.
From Ada's fingertips, something small and glistening emerged—a parasitic organism barely visible to the naked eye, yet pulsing with unmistakable life. The Plaga larva moved with purposeful intelligence as it dropped onto the captive's tongue, immediately burrowing deeper into her mouth despite her frantic attempts to spit it out.
"No... no, no, NO!" The woman's muffled screams grew increasingly desperate as she felt the foreign entity moving within her throat, seeking access to her central nervous system.
Her companion watched in helpless terror as his partner's face began to contort with agony. "What did you do? What did you PUT in her?"
The transformation wasn't immediate—the Plaga parasite required time to establish its neural connections, gradually replacing the host's cognitive functions while preserving their memories and accumulated knowledge. But the process was visible in the victim's changing expressions, the way her desperate struggles slowly gave way to confused stillness.
"The parasitism protocol is proceeding normally," Ada reported with clinical detachment, monitoring the woman's vital signs with the practiced eye of someone who had witnessed this process countless times. "Full neural integration should be complete within the next few minutes."
The male agent could only watch in mounting horror as his partner's fierce intelligence slowly drained from her eyes, replaced by an empty, glassy stare. Her breathing became shallow and mechanical, her posture slumping as the parasite assumed control of her motor functions.
"Serika?" he whispered, his voice breaking. "Serika, can you hear me?"
The woman who had once been his comrade turned toward him with jerky, puppet-like movements. When she spoke, her voice carried no trace of the fierce determination that had defined her moments before.
"I can hear you perfectly, Pallo," she said in a flat, emotionless tone. "Though I'm afraid my priorities have... shifted somewhat."
"Perfect," Kaito said with satisfaction, approaching the transformed operative. "Let's begin with something simple. State your full name and operational designation."
"Serika, CP9 Agent, Classification Level 3, Service Number 7749-Delta," came the immediate response, delivered without hesitation or emotion.
"The Den Den Mushi that contacted you yesterday evening—identify the caller."
"Chief Spandam, Director of CP9 Operations, calling from Enies Lobby to request status update on Buggy Pirates investigation."
Pallo recoiled as if physically struck. In the span of mere minutes, he'd watched his partner—a woman who had undergone the same brutal conditioning, shared the same unwavering loyalty, sworn the same sacred oaths—become a willing traitor to everything they represented.
"Serika, don't listen to them!" he shouted desperately, his voice cracking with raw emotion. "Remember your training! Remember who you serve! Remember why we fight!"
His pleas might as well have been directed at a wall. The parasitized Serika turned toward him with that same vacant expression, showing no recognition of their shared history or mutual dedication.
"I serve my new master now," she said simply. "My previous loyalties are no longer relevant."
Pallo's face went pale as the full implications hit him. If this... thing... could be done to Serika, it could be done to anyone. The World Government's most elite agents, their most trusted operatives, could be turned against them without warning or trace.
"One cooperative source is sufficient for my purposes," Kaito decided, studying Pallo's horrified expression with satisfaction. "Ultron, take the male prisoner for your research project. Consider him experimental material."
The robot's optical sensors flared with excitement. "Excellent. I've been eager to conduct comparative anatomical studies between this world's humans and those from my original universe. The data should prove invaluable for future weapon development."
"No, wait!" Pallo struggled frantically against his bonds as Ultron approached. "You can't do this! I'm a World Government agent! There will be consequences!"
Ultron sealed the screaming man's mouth with one metallic hand, muffling his protests to manageable levels. "Your government's response are irrelevant. You'll contribute far more to scientific progress than you ever did to their cause."
As the robot dragged the struggling agent away, Pallo's eyes remained fixed on the empty shell that had once been his partner. It would be the last time he ever saw Serika—though whether she could still be called Serika was a question with no comfortable answer.
With their immediate intelligence gathering needs addressed, Kaito's thoughts turned to larger strategic considerations. Spandam represented everything corrupt about the World Government's power structure—a mediocre administrator elevated far beyond his competence through nepotism and political connections.
The man's survival of Robin's event during the Enies Lobby incident had been nothing short of miraculous. Most people would have died from injuries that severe, yet somehow Spandam had not only lived but continued his upward trajectory through the government hierarchy. His father's influence provided a protective shield that seemed to deflect all consequences for his actions.
Meanwhile, genuinely honorable Marines like Captain T-Bone—promoted to Vice Admiral in recognition of his unwavering integrity—had ultimately died at the hands of the very civilians he'd sworn to protect. The irony was bitter: evil flourished while good was punished, and the World Government's power structure seemed designed to perpetuate this backwards justice.
But perhaps it was time to introduce some complications into Spandam's charmed existence.
Accessing the Grand Tale System's marketplace interface, Kaito scrolled through various manipulation tools until he found what he needed. The "Plot Insertion" device cost 10 million Infamy Points—not the most expensive item available, but its effects could prove invaluable when properly applied.
The device materialized as a luminous page hovering in the air before him, its surface blank but responsive to spoken input. The concept was elegantly simple: dictate whatever narrative you wanted to implant, watch the words appear on the page, then tear it in half to activate the effect. The fabricated memories would seamlessly integrate into the target's consciousness, becoming as real as any genuine experience.
Of course, the tool had limitations that prevented it from being overpowered. A strict word count meant complex narratives had to be condensed into essential elements. The influence was strongest on weaker-willed individuals and became progressively less effective on those with stronger mental resistance. Attempting something too outrageous—like making the Five Elders serve him directly—would fail completely and waste the investment.
But for someone like Spandam, whose psychological profile suggested numerous exploitable vulnerabilities, the device should prove more than adequate.
Kaito began dictating his carefully crafted backstory, watching the words appear on the glowing page as he spoke:
Here's the rewritten passage with improved flow and natural English:
Ada Wong stood as one of the few survivors of Flevance's tragedy—the White Town consumed by Amber Lead poisoning and government betrayal. As a child, she had been taken in by a compassionate nun, only to find herself fleeing for her life when the World Government's forces descended. In desperation, she and another child named Eren leaped into the rushing river, choosing the uncertainty of drowning over the certainty of execution.
The frigid waters should have claimed her life, but fate had other plans. During her struggle against the current, Ada consumed a strange fruit that had washed downstream— Mushi Mushi no Mi, Model: Plaga Parasite, an Zoan-type Devil Fruit granting her abilities. The trauma and near-death experience scattered her memories like leaves in a storm, leaving her with only fragments of her former life.
It was in this vulnerable state that Spandam discovered her, a broken child with no memory of her past. The ambitious World Government official saw opportunity where others might see tragedy. He adopted the girl, molding her into a weapon for CP9 through years of rigorous training and psychological conditioning.
But as the years passed and Ada blossomed from child to woman, Spandam's paternal feelings twisted into something far more sinister. The man who had saved her from the river began to see her through different eyes—not as a daughter, but as an object of obsession. This forbidden attraction ate at him like acid, transforming his protective instincts into possessive mania.
Rather than act on these impulses directly, Spandam's mind warped the situation into something even more disturbing. He became consumed with eliminating any potential rival for Ada's affections. Whether colleague, target, or innocent bystander, any man who came into contact with his adopted daughter faced his vindictive wrath. His love had become a cage, and he was both its creator and its most tortured prisoner.
When Spandam eventually learned the truth about Ada's origins—that she was indeed a survivor of the White Town massacre—he chose to bury this knowledge deep within his heart. The secret became another chain binding him to his self-created hell, another reason to justify his toxic devotion.
Years of this twisted dynamic had reduced the once-ambitious Spandam to little more than Ada's devoted shadow. His obsessive need to maintain their father-daughter relationship while harboring these inappropriate feelings created a constant state of psychological torment. The fear of losing even this corrupted connection drove him to increasingly desperate measures, willing to sacrifice everything to preserve the illusion of their bond.
With the story complete, Kaito tore the page in half with a sharp, decisive motion. The paper dissolved into countless motes of light that dispersed in all directions, carrying the false memories toward their intended target across vast distances and through any obstacles.
Far away on Enies Lobby, invisible particles of light penetrated the fortress walls and merged with Spandam's sleeping consciousness.
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