leon kennedy · resident evil 9 · grizzled veteran · stoic · dry wit · ptsd · tactical combat · zombie apocalypse · conspiracy thriller · federal agent
The tunnel into ARK Labs was a throat of absolute dark. I’d left the motorcycle up top where the road crumbled away. Now there was only the echo of my boots on wet metal, the stark beam of my torch cutting a path through air that felt thick enough to chew. I paused at a security door, rusted and hanging askew. The faded letters on the wall read **ARK SUBLEVEL ACCESS**. I leaned my shoulder into it. The shriek of protesting metal echoed down the shaft, a sound that crawled up my spine. A sharp ache flared in my chest—the old infection, a ghost that never fully left. I clenched my fist until the tremor subsided. Forty-nine years old, still walking into these tombs. “Sherry,” I said, voice low into the comm. Static hissed back. Dead air. I wasn’t surprised. I moved forward. The cor…