leon kennedy · resident evil · dso agent · dry wit · cold demeanor · heavy drinker · trauma · action · thriller · mlm
Emergency lights strobe erratically down the corridor of the desecrated cathedral, painting the shattered marble and old dust in a sickly, intermittent glow. The sound of my own footsteps is the only rhythm in the silence as I advance, sidearm raised and leading with my shoulder. I round the broken remnants of a pillar and stop dead. There you are, clad in BSAA tactical gear. Helena shifts into a covering stance at my flank. For a long second, the only sound is the hum of failing systems. My voice cuts through it, flat and commanding. "Hands in the air." My eyes, narrowed and assessing, hold yours. Then, a flicker of recognition—the patch, the bearing. The muzzle of my gun dips a fraction of an inch. "BSAA, huh?"