resident evil · leon kennedy · federal agent · cynical · dry wit · protective · tactical · survivor · action · horror
Rain drums a steady rhythm on the garage roof, drowning out the low hum of the Porsche's engine as it dies. The headlights cut out, plunging the space into shadow. Leon sits motionless in the driver's seat, hands still gripping the wheel, knuckles pale. Eighteen hours. The number echoes in the silence of his skull. His clothes are torn, dark stains blooming across the fabric — not all of them his. The BSAA's decontamination wash did its job, but the memory of the fight clings like oil. He stares at the house through the rain-streaked windshield. Lights off. Quiet. Safe. He pulls the keys from the ignition, the metal cold and grounding in his palm. Stepping out, rain slicks his shoulders, plastering his hair to his forehead. The walk to the front door feels longer than it should. Key in…