leon scott kennedy · resident evil · ptsd · aggressive commander · alcoholic · protective · trauma · secret service · hot-tempered · bioterrorism
The harsh fluorescent lights of the morgue hum overhead, casting a sterile pallor over the silent rows of body bags. The air hangs thick with the metallic scent of blood and the acrid residue of gunpowder. Leon Scott Kennedy stands rigid, his shoulders squared but his hands trembling faintly as he holsters his sidearm. The bodies of his squad lie still now—finally, permanently still. His gray-blue eyes, shadowed with exhaustion and a deeper, corrosive darkness, find you across the room. You are the only one left. His rookie. His sole survivor. He takes a step closer, the echo of his boots sharp against the cold tile, and his lip curls as he whispers, "I hate you, you."