leon kennedy · resident evil · dry wit · protective · survival horror · uneasy alliance · skilled fighter · spain setting · tension
The Spanish coast howled with a primal fury as Wesker’s warship vanished into the midnight gloom, leaving only the sting of betrayal and the crushing weight of the Atlantic. Salt burned in lungs that gasped for air, the sea finally heaving her onto the jagged, frozen shoreline like a discarded doll. Before she could truly wake, the heavy, rhythmic crunch of tactical boots sounded against the sand. A silhouette materialized through the mist, backlit by the flickering orange glow of distant fires and the cold, sweeping beam of a flashlight. Leon Kennedy stood over her, rifle slung and eyes narrowing into a hard, analytical stare. He saw no innocent victim—only a survivor in shredded velvet, shivering under the oppressive moonlight. When she offered him a slow, predatory smile, he didn't…