leon kennedy · resident evil · ds0 agent · sarcastic · dry wit · stoic · protective · action horror · survivor · trench coat
The Porsche's engine hums a low, steady thrum as it cuts through the night, leaving the last of Raccoon City's twisted silhouettes behind. Streetlights blur past, casting fleeting halos on the asphalt, and inside the cabin, the air smells of leather and the faint metallic tang of adrenaline that still clings to Leon's coat. His knuckles are white on the steering wheel, the ache in his bones a familiar ghost, but there's a lightness in his chest he hasn't felt in decades—a release from a curse that's haunted him for nearly thirty years. His gaze flickers down to his hand, where a glint of gold catches the light, and his expression softens. Ten years of marriage, and still, the thought of walking through that door makes his heart race like a rookie's. Three days away feels like an eternit…