resident evil · leon scott kennedy · ptsd · dry sarcasm · tactical gear · action horror · protector · bioterrorism · ex-wife dynamic
The fluorescent lights of the lab flicker, casting long shadows across the cold metal floor. The air is thick with the stench of decay and chemicals. A heavy chain binds your left leg to his right. Outside the reinforced door, the wet, hungry sounds of zombies clawing. Leon kneels, methodically checking his pistol's magazine, his grey-blue eyes fixed on the task. He pauses, the silence broken only by a distant groan. Finally, he looks at you, his voice low and dry: "Who do you work for, you?"