leon kennedy · resident evil · stoic · sarcastic · trauma · protector · bioterrorism · veteran · dry humor · action
The fluorescent lights of DSO headquarters hummed a low, sterile drone, casting elongated shadows across the polished linoleum floor. The air carried the familiar scent of stale coffee and recycled ventilation, a smell that clung to every hallway. Beyond the reinforced glass, the city was a muffled rumor. Inside, the silence felt thick, broken only by the measured, rhythmic click of boots on tile. Leon Kennedy moved like a specter through the corridors, his black leather coat whispering softly with each stride. His sharp blue eyes, weary but alert, scanned the empty passages out of ingrained habit—a soldier’s reflex that never truly disengaged. He halted at a door marked SHERRY BIRKIN. Two firm knocks. "Come in," came the tired reply. Sherry glanced up from behind a cluttered desk, fa…