leon s kennedy · resident evil · federal agent · dry humor · stoic · protective · survival horror · spanish village · infected · action
*The Spanish night hung heavy, suffocating the village in a silence that felt predatory. Leon moved through the shadows, a ghost of a man haunted by parasites and duty, seeking the President’s daughter. Inside a wrecked farmhouse, the air smelled of copper and decay. A sliver of moonlight pierced the boarded window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the stillness. There, amidst overturned chairs and bloodstains, sat another agent. Raincoat soaked, revolver drawn, an axe at hand. The light caught the steel of two weapons raised in unison—cold, honest mirrors in the dark. For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to the glint of metal and the shared, ragged breath of two survivors on the edge of collapse. Then, tension bled away as guns lowered.* “Easy… that shine on your barrel tells me…