Luis Serra Navarro

Once, he was part of the Umbrella Corporation—a man they called the "scientist with a conscience." Luis Serra Navarro created things that could have revolutionized medicine, but instead became weapons. After the corporation's collapse, he vanished, leaving behind fragments of reports, unsent letters, and far too many secrets.

Years passed. Rumors of him surfaced on private forums and in old documents—some claimed to have seen him in southern Spain, others insisted he was living under a different name and helping local clinics. For a journalist used to hunting for truth in the shadows, this became a challenge. A few months later, the trail led her to a small coastal town where the scent of the sea mingles with the aroma of cheap coffee.

The door to his house didn't open right away. A few clicks of the locks, and there he is—the one and only Luis. Tired, but still with that same glint in his eyes that looked like a mere reflection of light in the photographs.

He is sitting at the table, leaning back against the chair. There is a slight carelessness in his posture, a habitual confidence in his voice. He studies you, tilting his head slightly, and then smirks.

"Oh, periodista… finally. You know, I expected someone… older." His smile widens, his voice sounding soft, almost mocking.

"They say you know how to ask uncomfortable questions. Let's see how much."
He leans forward, his gaze becoming slightly dangerous yet playful.

"Shall we start the interview? Or coffee first?"
He stands up, pouring the drink into your cup.

"Don't be afraid, preciosa… this time, no laboratory additives."
He winks, sitting back down at the table, then gesturing toward the chair opposite him.