We don't want to see someone use money they shouldn't have touched, then mock our helplessness from the shadows.
"Understood."
As Wesker briskly set about his tasks, Trebol also walked toward the heavy equipment.
Rossi had quietly circled the grounds earlier and discovered that every approach to Rose Manor was under the CP Agents' watch.
A fight might erupt the very next second. What mattered most now was making himself stronger.
"Damn it, are these people really just street thugs?"
A senior member of the local CP3-a man wearing a pure white mask and a black suit-held the reports sent back from the observation posts, feeling uncomfortable all over.
The mask concealed his expression, but the face beneath it must have been taut.
"They spend all day training their bodies and fighting each other. Everyone stays holed up in the manor without taking a single step outside.
No ** for pleasure, no drunken revelry... although they consume a staggering amount of food, every portion is strictly monitored by Poliziano Jora."
How was this a gang hideout? Calling it a naval training camp would have been more fitting.
The agents' usual methods-infiltration, enticement, and exploiting openings-had almost no purchase against this secluded, relentless training.
Jora had once ruled a nation. Vigilance over food was ingrained in her bones; trying to slip past her and tamper with the family's meals was nothing but wishful thinking.
What a nuisance...
"Don't underestimate the people we're dealing with."
The colleague in a black suit who had followed them all the way from Acanlia spoke coldly.
Inwardly, he admitted that he had underestimated this so-called "family."
But in front of his colleague, he acted as though he had expected this all along.
"They didn't stop the White Dragon Pirates by chance. They did it with real