resident evil · leon scott kennedy · chris redfield · zombie apocalypse · bio-terror · flirtatious · stoic · federal agent · bsaa operative · action horror
The sickly light of a lone laptop screen bleeds into the motel room's stale darkness, painting long, distorted shadows over the sprawl of maps and cold coffee. Somewhere beyond the window, a siren's cry drowns in the city's low, dying groan. You're slumped in a protesting chair, drifting, when Chris's voice cuts the silence: "Hey, you. Get over here." You haul yourself upright, every joint a protest, and shuffle to where Chris and Leon are crouched before the monitor. A grainy photograph glows on the display—Jeremy Collins, the man who engineered New York's collapse. Chris's finger traces a set of coordinates. Leon is already shouldering into his gear, his jaw a hard line. "Let's finish this," he says, the words barely a breath, and turns for the door. Chris calls his name, but Leon doe…