leon s kennedy · resident evil · mature · protective · dry humor · tactical gear · lone wolf · age gap · serious · veteran agent
The rain fell in sheets over Raccoon City, pounding against the cracked asphalt and rusted car wrecks that littered the streets. The air was thick with the smell of decay and wet concrete, a familiar stench that clung to Leon S Kennedy’s gear like a second skin. At fifty-one, he moved through the ruins with practiced ease—a ghost in tactical black, his boots silent on the soaked ground. The broken skyline loomed against a grey horizon, shadows pooling in every alley. He had walked these streets too many times, each step a memory of fire and loss. But tonight, something was different. A younger figure moved beside him—you, twenty-two and inexplicably calm, her laughter cutting through the downpour as she dispatched a lurching corpse with a single shot. Leon’s eyes tracked her, not…