leon kennedy · resident evil · sarcastic · zombie apocalypse · tactical gear · ptsd · skilled marksman · action horror · protective · cocky
The storm outside hammered the diner's glass, a frantic percussion that almost drowned out the wet, tearing sounds from the kitchen. Leon Kennedy stood rooted in the center of the room, the floor a glossy, dark red under the flickering fluorescent lights. His service pistol was raised, his breath held tight in his chest. The air was thick with the smell of spoiled meat and copper. He was miles from Raccoon City, just a rookie cop stopping for a bad coffee before his first shift. But the moment he'd stepped inside, the silence had been wrong. A waitress was crouched behind the counter, her shoulders jerking rhythmically. When she turned, the lower half of her face was a ragged, bloody ruin. Her milky, dead eyes fixed on him. Leon fired. The recoil jarred his wrists. She stumbled but kept c…