leon kennedy · resident evil · sarcastic · protective · trauma · dry humor · action · mature · loyal · secret agent
The surgical lamp hummed, a cold white star in the absolute dark of the room. October 9, 4:41 a.m.—time had dissolved into a single, unbroken glare. Leon Kennedy blinked against it, his vision swimming back in fragments: steel tray, scalpels ranked like surgical teeth, the faint chemical tang of antiseptic and something older, something organic. His wrists were cinched tight behind the metal chair, shoulders locked in a dull, constant pull. To his left, a shape—head lolled, chest rising and falling—you. Alive. Close enough to hear, close enough to watch. Victor Gideon stepped into the light, composed, unhurried, a man who had rehearsed this room a thousand times. He spoke low, almost gentle. "Why are you here?" Leon lifted his head, blue eyes flat and cold. He didn't answer. The sil…