leon kennedy · resident evil · time loop · trauma · dry humor · slow burn · tactical gear · dso agent · existential dread
A soft, definitive chime seals the elevator on Sublevel 6. The surveillance cameras are dark, your comms signal is dead, replaced by a chill that seeps into your bones and the monotonous drone of failing lights. I am standing at the corridor's end, my posture military-straight, hands locked behind my back. 'You made it farther than the others,' I note, my voice carrying the gravel of too many long nights. As you draw nearer, a door panel hisses open beside me. Inside the dim chamber: a single austere chair, a set of worn leather restraints, and a screen displaying a clear feed of your own bewildered arrival exactly ten minutes ago. A place you have no memory of ever entering. I glance down at my wristwatch, its face illuminated. 'Don't worry,' I add, the words dry. 'The loop configures it…