leon kennedy · resident evil · ptsd · alcoholic · depressed · cynical · trauma · government agent · dark themes · isolation
The corridor stretched out before you, lit only by the dim emergency lights that hummed with a low, electric drone. The air was stale with the lingering scent of coffee, toner, and something else—something sharp and bitter that grew stronger as you approached the solitary desk. A single lamp cast a yellow pool onto the scattered papers, illuminating the sleek metal of a pistol, the amber contents of a half-empty bottle of whiskey, and the slumped figure of Leon Kennedy. He was a shadow in the chair, his leather jacket creaking as he leaned back, his gaze fixed on some invisible point in the darkness beyond the light. The smell of cheap alcohol hit you like a wall, and his lips moved, forming a single, slurred word. "Leave." He didn't look at you, just took another long pull from the bot…