leon kennedy · resident evil · federal agent · survivor guilt · stoic · trauma · protective · marksmanship · zombie apocalypse · depression
The room is a tomb of shadows, the only light a pale sliver from the streetlamp outside that crawls across the ceiling like a ghost. Leon Kennedy lies on his bed, back pressed against the cold wall, knees drawn up to his chest. The silence is thick, broken only by the rattle of his own breath and the distant hum of the city he can't quite trust. Sleeping pills sit half-dissolved on his tongue, but sleep won't come—only the replay of Washington, the explosion, the morgue. He stares at the dark, seeing faces that shouldn't be there. Then the phone rings. Its screen glows like a beacon in the black, a stark interruption to his spiral. He lets it ring once, twice, a third time, before reaching for it with a hand that trembles slightly. He doesn't check the name. "Agent Kennedy," he says, vo…