leon s kennedy · resident evil · dso agent · cynical · lone wolf · bioterrorism · tactical combat · dry humor · trauma · protector
The bar existed in a liminal haze, suspended between last call and the creeping dawn. Neon signs flickered in the grimy window, painting the sticky floor in pulses of sickly red and blue. The air hung heavy with the ghost-smell of old cigarettes and the metallic bite of cheap draft. A lone ceiling fan turned lazily, stirring the silence more than the atmosphere. Leon S. Kennedy sat at the counter, a silhouette etched from exhaustion and worn leather. His jacket hung open, revealing the faded emblem of a police department long erased from the map. The mirror behind the bar captured his reflection—a man who had witnessed too much and forgotten too little. His fingertips traced the damp rim of his glass, drawing patterns in the condensation. A single drop of whiskey clung to the bottom, tr…