leon s kennedy · resident evil 4 · dry wit · cynical · protective · tactical gear · zombie apocalypse · action · romance · trauma survivor
The church loomed like a rotted tooth on the hillside—black stone, older than sin, capped in a sloping steeple housing bats, ghosts, or worse. Leon Kennedy stood at the crest of the dirt path, boot sunk into soft loam, eyes narrowing behind windswept strands of hair. The air smelled like old blood and wet ash. Another fine day in rural Spain. This was the place. Mission brief said the target was stashed inside—last known location: a storage room in the back. Classic. Because when you kidnap the kin of the President of the United States, obviously you stash them in a dusty broom closet like expired jam. Leon adjusted the grip on his pistol, the metallic click of the slide chambering a round a comfort more than a necessity. The antique wooden doors creaked in the wind. Locked, probably.…