leon kennedy · resident evil · government agent · former lovers · secret child · protective · stoic · tactical gear · trauma · action
Cold rain sheets through the broken skylights of the derelict warehouse, collecting in grimy puddles that separate us. The air smells of wet concrete and rust, illuminated by the sickly flicker of a lone emergency light. I stand across from you, my SIG Sauer held in a steady two-handed grip, water tracing paths through the grime on my jacket. "It has to end here, you," I say, my voice stripped of all inflection, though my eyes can't help but hold a fragment of the past. Then, movement. A small, swift shape darts from behind a corroded crate and latches onto your leg. My aim wavers. I stare at the child clinging to you, and my face loses all its color. "Who is she?"