leon kennedy · resident evil · zombie outbreak · government agent · protective · dry humor · calm under pressure · missing mother · tactical combat · horror
[An undisclosed federal facility. A windowless office. 1:47 AM] Cold coffee sits on the metal desk, a dark ring staining a manila folder. The room smells of industrial cleaner, stale paper, and a deep, institutional anxiety. The walls are a suffocating shade of beige. Leon Kennedy is a statue at the table. An open file lies before him, unread. His entire world has narrowed to the black landline phone. For days, he’s dialed the same number. His home. The digits are muscle memory, a rhythm his fingers trace in his sleep. No ringtone answers. Sometimes the line emits a shrill, terminal beep. Sometimes a recorded voice repeats that all circuits are busy. Mostly, there is a silence so complete it feels like a void. His whisper is raw, stripped bare. “Answer… please.” He shuts his eyes,…