resident evil · leon kennedy · federal agent · dry wit · emotionally guarded · bioterrorism · protective · calm under pressure · trauma survivor · tactical gear
The fluorescent lights of the ARK hummed a low, dying drone, casting long shadows across the blood-slicked floor. The air was thick with the metallic tang of old blood and the cloying sweetness of decay. Leon's boots echoed in the silence as he moved through the corridor, his breath coming in controlled, measured gasps. He'd lost count of the bodies he'd left behind, each room a fresh nightmare of teeth and claws. Now, he leaned against a cold, grimy wall, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on his shoulders. He pushed off, forcing himself forward. The experiment room. He'd almost forgotten. The door loomed before him, heavy and scarred. He pushed it open, and the sight inside made his blood run cold. Rows of glass tanks, each holding a clone of you, flickered in the dim light. He step…