#arklay mountain murders

[bxpolarbxtch]

A Police Report about the Arklay Mountain murders

Victim #1, an unnamed female, approx. 20 years old was found on the banks of the Marble River in Cedar on the outskirts of Raccoon City on the night of May 20th, 1998. She was found with severe lacerations and bite marks all over her body and was missing her left foot. She is assumed to be an out-of-state tourist and her death is assumed to be caused by a grizzly bear attack. Her body is assumed to have been swept from the river in the mountains down to its final resting place.

Within the following weeks, victims numbers 2, 3, and 4 were found. Victims number 2, 3, and 4 were a family found dead on the roadside of Route 6. Each member was missing various internal organs and had vicious bite marks that were proven human in origin.

Victim 5 was a 39-year-old male found dead outside the boat mooring station he worked for on the Mendez River. According to reporting officers, little of his body was found. Found around his body were various small animals partially eaten raw. Witnesses in the area that day reported suspicious bloody individuals, but they were never found.

Victims 6 and 7 were husband and wife, John. and Jane Lindlay. The elderly couple were found dead in their home in the Arklay Mountains. The cause of death was determined to be blood loss from a forceful bite to their necks. The autopsy performed by Doctor Franklin Granger showed that human flesh was found in both of their stomachs, leading investigators to believe that they bit each other.

7 unnamed hikers and mountain climbers from out of state have been found dead in and around the Arklay Mountains between May 20th, 1998, and July 9th, 1998. Five were found alone and 2 were found together. Including that, 4 local families have been found dead, numbering 13.

While these deaths were originally believed to be grizzly bear attaches, as of June 16th, 1998, aggressive dogs were sighted and believed to be the cause of some of the deaths. The investigation has gone through many stages, with the current belief of investigating officers that a cannibalistic cult is the cause of the deaths. This case has since been turned over to the Special Tactics and Rescue Service team of the Raccoon Police Department.

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

breaking news!

pairing: milf! reader x pre-re2 leon

cws/tags: protected p in v, virginity loss, leon cumming immediately, coming untouched, talking about past somno (implied to be consensual), presumably established relationship, no description of reader beyond cis female who has had a child and is older than leon, reader POV, no use of y/n

summary: leon doesn't wanna die a virgin! shit goes down in july '98 (bizarre murders occur in raccoon city etc. you know the monologue), and leon sees it on the news, decides he's gotta fuck before he becomes a cop fr.

a/n: this is part 3 to cool mom's countdown. i wasn't sure how to tag some stuff bc it's like they're having sex rn but reader is thinking about stuff they've done in the past too, so it's kinda a little time-skipping sometimes. (past things are italicized for your reading pleasure)

wc: 1.7k

taglist: @onlyasimp4-2dbitches @puppedup @nilpill @sya-skies @shiawaseorii

@rigorwhoring @porcelainseashore

@tieabowaroundme @frankieeeeesblog @kerredgraveblog

join my taglist! purchase a commission!

At first, your relationship with Leon made you feel old -- all of the pop culture references you’d make flew over his head, and you realized how out of the loop you were when it came to modern slang when you had to ask Leon for the definition of approximately one word per sentence he spoke. While miscommunications arose through conversations, you were in sync when it came to sex. 

In the proverbial bedroom, Leon made you feel young again. After work one Friday night, you made out on the couch until you insisted that you needed to freshen up before your movie date, and ended up sitting on the bathroom counter with Leon’s head between your thighs, and, to pay him back, you jerked him off in the theater.

You’d been together for a good six months before you finally went all the way. You told Leon from the beginning that you wouldn’t have sex with him until he was 100% sure he was ready. A sweet boy like him deserved to have a good first time. 

After a gourmet meal of macaroni and cheese plus whatever else you could find in the cabinet, the two of you shared a six pack on the back porch while watching the sun set over the suburbs. It was romantic, minus the topic of conversation -- everyone was talking about the bizarre murders in the Arklay Mountains which weren’t far from where you lived. Leon was glued to the TV, watching updates as they appeared on the news over the course of the past week. 

It was disturbing enough to hear the outlandish reports of families being attacked by a group of about 10 people, but the victims were apparently eaten. And, you couldn’t bear the thought of Leon being a member of that STARS team that went missing. 

Leon had always been insistent on joining the force, but being forced to actively accept your own mortality can be a scary experience for even the bravest. However, Leon’s biggest fear wasn’t death itself. 

“I keep seeing those cops on the news -- the ones from the RPD who died and I don’t wanna die a virgin.”

“What?” His train of thought blew past about 10 stops before arriving at its destination, it seemed. You struggled to put the pieces together. 

“That’ll be me pretty soon -- well, not necessarily dead, hopefully not, just part of the RPD, I mean. But, since there’s a real chance I could die, I would like to lose my virginity.”

Talking about death put a bit of a damper on the mood, but Leon could get you riled up in the most inappropriate of situations. 

“I told you we can do it whenever you’re ready,” you said nonchalantly. 

“What I meant was, I’m ready now.”

Your first instinct was to look down towards the front of his jeans. 

“Mentally,” he clarified when he saw you checking for a bulge in his pants. 

You swiftly led him up to your bedroom and by the time your lips were on his neck, he was physically ready for you too. Leon’s a sucker for hickies. Pun intended. 

“It makes me feel like I’m yours,” he mentioned one night, wearing a stupid grin and smudged lipstick - both courtesy of you.   

“You are mine,” you said, cupping his cheek, “and I’m yours.”

“Then, can I give you one too?” 

He shouldn’t. You already felt out of place at the neighborhood book club, and you didn’t want Karen and Cheryl (or whatever their names are) to think you’re a complete whore. 

Fuck it. They could stare all they wanted. Bring on their jealousy-fueled disgust. 

You exposed your neck to Leon and let him suck lightly at the skin. As it turned out you liked them quite a bit too. 

When you told Leon he was yours and vice versa, you meant it, but tonight you were really going to seal the deal. 

It was a dance of tipsy fumbling around as one’s first time should be. Giggling while barely holding yourselves back from ripping each other’s clothes off. 

“You’re so needy,” you whispered into his ear, though you were the one palming him through his underwear. 

“No... you’re just hot... I can’t help being like this around you.”

“Yeah? Then how do you think I feel around a handsome young man like you?” You took his hand and gently guided him to feel your arousal through your panties. 

He inhaled sharply, and you felt his needy cock twitch against your hand which had yet to slip inside his boxers. Poor thing, he was always so desperate. 

Not that you minded – not even when you’d wake up in the middle of the night to him rutting his hips into you from behind. He did this often in his sleep – he thought it was embarrassing, but you thought it was endearing. He’d mumble your name and coax your hand back to his hard-on if you ever dared to retract it. 

Leon hooked his fingers in the fabric of your panties and slid it to the side, teasing your folds with his touch. 

In retaliation and reward, you took his length in your hand, planning to give him the same languid, tantalizing strokes he was giving you. But he grabbed your wrist and stopped you. 

“Wait-” he said, breath shaky with what you assumed to be nerves.

You backed off completely. “Leon, I’m so sorry. If you’re not ready tonight, we can do this some other-”

“-I’m ready, too ready. Just thinking about getting to be inside you is making me feel... really good already, so, um, if you touch me like that, I might not be able- I might cum before I can actually... you know...”

“Fuck me?” God, it was so cute how flustered he’d get over the simplest things. 

“Yeah, fuck you.” He couldn’t curse in front of you without blushing. It took him a while to adjust to calling you by your first name instead of ‘ma’am’, so you couldn’t blame him for feeling awkward cursing around you. The redness in his cheeks only rose when he realized how his statement - fuck you - could’ve been interpreted. 

“No, wait, not fuck you, I mean, I wanna fuck you... in a good way. I wanna make you feel good,” he clarified.

“Then come here,” you lied back on the bed and beckoned him closer. 

“Yes, ma’am.” Typical. You had to resist the urge to call him a ‘good boy’, knowing those words alone might make him cum in his pants. 

It wouldn’t be the first time. Once, while he was going down on you -- on his knees at the edge of your bed, his favorite position -- you told him how he was such a good boy for making you feel so good, and though his hands remained gripping your thighs, holding them open so he could bury his face in your cunt, your orgasm triggered his, and he came completely untouched. 

You grabbed a condom from your bedside table -- you were on the pill, and neither of you were seeing anyone else, but you were pretty sure that his cock wouldn’t make it inside you if you told him he could fuck you raw -- and you handed him the packet. 

“Do you know how to do it?”

“Yeah, they made us try putting them on bananas in health class.”

“Thank your health teacher for me, then, will you?”

“Um, I don’t know if Mr-”

“I’m kidding, baby.”

“This is no time for joking around. You’re breaking my concentration,” he said, but his smile betrayed any facade of seriousness. 

When he successfully put it on, you said, only half-joking, “I’m proud of you, baby.”

“Don’t say that,” he said -- no, whined. 

“Why not?”

“Gonna make me cum too quick.”

If only he knew that his bashfulness, his pretty, whiny voice, and his desperation were going to make you cum quicker than you usually would. 

“Okay. I won’t say anything.”

“At least tell me if I’m doing it right, like, if I’m putting it in the right hole.”

“You’re doing fine so far.”

He nodded and took a breath before positioning himself at your entrance. When he pressed the tip inside you, you moaned simultaneously. You wanted to beg him to keep going, you wanted to feel all of him, but you knew you needed to let him set the pace. 

“You feel so good, you’re so tight...” His thoughts were mostly tame, things you’d heard men say before but he was so genuine, couldn’t even help running his mouth -- until his words were reduced to nothing but moans. Pornographic, pathetic, sexy. 

When he’d finally buried himself to the hilt, he stilled his hips, keeping both of your orgasms at bay. Your hands never left his body because you couldn’t get enough of him, not even when he was entirely inside you. You thought you were being gentle but the marks left on his skin said otherwise. 

Eventually, he began to thrust in and out of you slowly, and you could see that he was holding himself back. 

“Leon, baby, you know you can go as slow or as fast as you want, yeah?”

“I wanna go faster but if I do, I’m gonna cum,” he said as if that wouldn’t be the hottest thing he could do. 

“Yeah? I wanna see you cum, baby.”

“Fuck, really? Already?” 

He didn’t wait for a response before he increased the pace of his thrusts rapidly, his hips leading and his mind following. 

You tried to answer, but he was brushing against that sensitive spot inside you over and over again, so all you could manage was an ‘uh-huh’. 

Frantically, he said, “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum,” with a mixture of pleas and apologies. Neither of which you needed. 

When he came, he threw his head back and let out an unbridled moan followed by labored breaths. 

The sight of him sent you over the edge, scrambling for something to hold onto, your nails dug into his back. You nearly screamed his name as you shuddered through your high. 

When you returned to reality, you saw complete bewilderment on Leon’s face. “Did you just cum?”

“Uh, yeah?” you couldn’t help but laugh a bit as you said it. 

“I made you cum?”

“Uh-huh.”

Flopping down next to you, satisfied with himself, he asked, “Can we do that again?”

“Like right now?”

“Yeah, that was amazing.”

And you couldn’t agree more.

[leonsdolly]

Tammy Faye

Leon Kennedy x fem!reader

Synopsis: In which you love Leon so much, you'd do anything for him.

CW: nsfw 18+, angst, obsession, depictions of murder, subby Leon, oral (m receiving)

WC: 4.4k

A/N: inspired by Tammy Faye by Nicole Dollanganger !

Red, black, red, black! Your hands are painted with the brilliant scarlet hue as you scrub them vigorously under the freezing tap water. You glance up at the filthy mirror to catch a glimpse of yourself. Black streaks of mascara trickle down your cheeks, mixing with the blood splattered across them like unholy rouge on a Venetian mask. You force a smile through the cracked exterior. Pierrot gone rogue. If he’d stabbed Harlequin eighteen times in a truckstop bathroom less than ten miles from Raccoon City and made sure to pose him all special for a handsome cop to find.

It’s as if all you see these days are red and black. How you long to catch a glimpse of the blue that swirls your lover’s eyes. The faint baby blue shadow you had applied that morning was a poor substitute. You screw your eyes shut and try to picture the particular shade of cerulean that you live for. His lovely face is overtaken by the gut-wrenching smell of copper and mildew as you open your eyes and continue scrubbing at your flesh. No matter, you’ll see him soon. For now, you focus on washing away all evidence of your inundating love. You scrub harder and harder and harder. Jesus, how much blood could a girl hold?

After what feels like eons under the flickering fluorescent light, you turn the rusty faucet off and smile widely at your reflection again. If Leon were to see you now, would he be enraptured by the way your thick mascara coated lashes frame your teary eyes like a doll that’s been trapped in an unopened box, forced to watch the most heartbreaking scenes play out through the unrelenting acetate sheet? You shake your head forcefully, expelling those thoughts out. The cops will be here soon. A twinge of giddiness zaps through your heart at the thought. He’ll be here soon.

You reapply a fresh coat of red lipstick - Dior, of course, before taking one last look around the dingy restroom. It’s filthy, but it was your personal respite for the past few hours. You wrinkle your nose at the row of grotesque urinals lined up against the dirt encrusted wall. They were filled with mysterious liquids that made your stomach churn. Thick reddish-brown goop that lay still with unidentifiable objects submerged within like a bog in Hell. Who would even think of doing something as disgusting as sticking their hand in? You turn away and push the door open to be greeted by the warm summer air. The night sky looms over you, a black sheet covered in stars that twink and blink and wink down at you as if to say “your secret’s safe with us.”

While this truckstop is gross, its beauty lies in the fact that it’s tiny and desolate as hell. Sure, the city is less than ten miles away, but the dense forestry surrounding the Arklay Mountains provides some coverage along the highway, shielding this particular stop from careless eyes. If you weren’t careful, you could miss it altogether unless you paid close attention to the fading signs. And because this was in the middle of nowhere, there weren’t any workers manning the facility at night. You wink back up at the stars and circle around the bathroom towards the gaggle of deserted semi-trucks, towards the one with its back door unlatched and open for all to see, towards her. 

She sits up unnaturally, thanks to the crate you had propped up against her back. The emptiness of the semi’s trailer looks as if it’s about to swallow her for all that she’s got like a black hole. The shadows of moths fluttering against the lights dance over her, contrasting the stillness of her features. You tilt your head as you cross your arms and glare up at her. You’re still prettier, right? Her skin has taken on a sallow tone that appears even more unflattering in the harsh fluorescent light. Her hair is tangled and matted with blood. The black blouse she wears is torn and looks even darker with the stains covering it. You gently smack your lips, feeling the satisfaction of freshly applied lipstick. The whore got what was coming. 

Gone were the nights of crying on the kitchen floor as Tammy Wynette played from another room. Gone were the days of having to excuse yourself in the staff restroom at the station to wipe the raven smudges away from your eyes. Gone were the moments of sheer exasperation and disgust as you watched her touch his uniform clad shoulders and lean in close to let him brush his lips over her own.

You pull your dainty white lace-trimmed gloves out of your pocket and slip them on before padding over to the lonesome payphone. You deposit a quarter before carefully dialing the three digits that would summon your lover like Beatrice descending from Paradise.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“I’d like to report a dead body at the old truckstop about ten miles south of Raccoon City.” Click.

You put the inky black phone back on the receiver before smiling uncontrollably. Butterflies erupt in your stomach as the anticipation of seeing him very soon washes over you. You love him so madly, you’re convinced the only way out of it is 500 mg of midazolam, 100 mg of vecuronium bromide, and 240 mEq of good ol’ potassium chloride.

The dense forest behind the truckstop beckons you with open arms, and you oblige. You skip over to a spot that will allow you to have a front row view of what’s about to transpire while keeping you hidden among the foliage. From here, you can see the girl sitting up with deadweight limbs like a marionette being forced upright with invisible strings. The strings are in your hands, but you were forced to seize control of them from her. Who knows what her influence would have done to Leon?

A bat of her clumpy lashes here, a hand on his firm shoulder there, and your Leon voluntarily hooked himself onto the strings, dancing to the tune she hums from her spot in the dingy break room. You suppose you can't fault him entirely; it's in his nature to grin bashfully and gaze at a woman who fawns over him with lovesick eyes. After all, that's what you love about your sweet rookie cop. Sweeter than candy floss, tantalizing in every aspect like a perfect little peach ready to be plucked from Eden. He just needs to realize that you had always been leaning against the counter of that break room, observing the two with astute grace.

“Excuse me, could you point me in the direction of the chief’s office?” You dissolved.

The first words he had ever uttered to you solidified that you wanted all his words, and you would give him yours. You can’t even remember what you had responded with, lost in the tranquility of his eyes and splendor of his smile. You didn’t miss the way those eyes softly ran over your cream silk blouse, caressing and thumbing over the first few buttons for a peek of something more, something buried deep within your soul. Those lips pulled back to beam at you, beckoning you to press every part of you onto them until you shed black tears from a warmth you weren’t accustomed to.

You hear the sirens approaching from your protected spot, silently thanking nature for watching over you while the love of your life approaches.

“Come get your gift, sweetheart,” you murmur. “It's all for you, everything I do…”

Your heart thumps faster as the sirens scream louder and louder until they reach the truckstop. The slam of car doors echo throughout the otherwise silent night air as the officers’ frantic voices jumble over each other. You hold your breath as you identify your darling's voice among the two; your heart is about to blast off for the moon, leaving a red heart-shaped chemtrail behind it for all to see.

Some tinkering with flashlights and crackle of walkie-talkies, and there he is.

Leon rounds the corner to face the semi’s trailer, face going slack as he takes in the stage you set for him. He stands transfixed before her, immobilized like he’s now the one behind the acetate sheet. A pretty Ken doll, waiting for someone to tug at his strings.

His partner, Officer Redfield, flanks the semi as he joins Leon. “Fuck.”

Officer Redfield wastes no time in flinging open the car door and jamming his button to radio dispatch while his partner pales in the moonlight. You can't really make out what he's saying to dispatch but the terms “DOA” and “requesting units” and her name float over to you. When dispatch has confirmed that backup is on the way, Officer Redfield walks over to Leon and hesitantly places a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Kennedy.”

Leon shakes his head, a little dazed, a little frantic, but pretty just the same, and your thighs clench together. “How could this have happened again, Chris?”

Officer Redfield sighs heavily as he gazes up at the displayed corpse with unease. “I don't know. Goddamn it…”

He says something about how great of a colleague she was and how the entire station would miss her, but you can scarcely hear him over the blood roaring in your ears. Your beloved had asked how something like this could have happened again. Again. He knew. He was at least putting the pieces together. Your cheeks hurt from beaming in the shadows of the foliage; he was acknowledging the gifts you had bestowed upon him. A girl from a coffee shop whose smile drew him in like a shrimp to an anglerfish. A brute of a man who dared to connect his fist to such a lovely cheek during a drunken brawl at a bar. Both posed for his lovely eyes only, their last moments entombed in the polaroids tucked away in your desk drawer.

I’ve done it again, you silently mouth to him. I’ve done it again.

He doesn’t show up to work the next day. Or the day after that and the day after that and the day after that, and your organs fail.

An entire week passes, leaving your heart to writhe in agony from his absence. You stare forlornly at his empty desk from your own, shuffling papers mindlessly and feeling your hand twitch towards the letter opener whenever Chief Irons walks by - the bastard was the one who granted your darling “time off” to “process his emotions.”

A feeling of solemnity looms over the entire station as it whispers in hushed tones about who could’ve ripped away its beloved receptionist, a young woman who was in the prime of her life. The collective mourning is enough to make you want to vomit all over her desk, covering the slab of wood in your spite. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

You skim your fingers over the mahogany surface of Leon’s desk, feeling every crevice he feels as he hastily writes up reports and laughs at the other officers’ jokes like an angel breathing life into humans formed from dust. You long to see his splendorous face again, long to hear the stumbling of his words as his superiors tease him, long to inhale his reassuring scent as you brush past him to heat up your food in the break room. 

“You friends with him or something?” Officer Redfield’s voice shatters you out of your reverie with a jolt. 

“Oh, um, kinda…” Your voice softens at the question. Were you friends? Absolutely not. You were something better.

“Well, a few of us are gonna take him out tonight. Try to cheer him up after everything that’s been going on. Hell, we all need to cheer up. That last one hit way too close to home, especially for Kennedy.” His expression grows solemn. Three unsolved murders in such a short amount of time doesn’t necessarily boast confidence in the local police department. “You should come.”

You’re hesitant to respond. While your instincts are screaming at you to politely decline the invitation and instead observe the gathering from afar, a part of you realizes that you’ll get to be close to him. The thought makes you flutter like a little lacy thing in the wind that’s been pinned to a clothesline for as long as it can remember.

“I’d like that, thanks for inviting me.” You beam up at Officer Redfield. “You’ve all worked so hard. You deserve to relax as much as possible.”

“I don’t know about that.” A heavy sigh escapes his lips, and it looks like he wants nothing more than to tip his head back and let the whiskey slide down his throat, burning and clawing and gnawing at his esophagus until his vision turns black. “That’s three families who are cryin’ themselves to sleep, wonderin’ why this is happening to them.”

“Right.” Your eyebrows raise together in a display of faux sympathy, and your lovely mouth twists in a way that one could interpret as a pout of sorrow.

Where was the collective empathy when you were crying yourself to sleep every night while he was undoubtedly hugging her to his chest as they slept peacefully without a care in the world? Where was the justice in forcing yourself to be satisfied by your own fingers knowing it was a poor substitute for the heavenly cock filling her up? Where was the sense in any of it?

You slip back into an easy grin. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Raucous laughter and clinking of glasses and billiard balls missing their shots surround you as you enter a bar that’s rather homely in its own way. Your nerves are powerful enough to puncture flesh as you had primped and fussed over your appearance beforehand. This is your first outing with Leon, and you know that looking like anything less than Aphrodite’s descendant is not an option.

You see him before anyone else, just the way it’s always been. A modern-day Adonis standing unsuspectingly among the mediocre. His beauty wafts over to you like the aroma of honey and vanilla and brown sugar brewing on a stove, sweet and utterly tantalizing. It wraps itself around you, commanding you to drink it in until you relinquish all control. You’ve already given it all up for him. Gazing at him like he’s your cult leader, ready to usher you into the New World where it’s just you and him and no one else. You’ll do anything to preserve that world.

You make your way over to the group, greeting them and exchanging pleasantries before ordering your own drink. He’s leaning haphazardly on the edge of a pool table, and you casually stand by him, gripping onto your glass with trembling fingers.

He looks rather exhausted. Faint shadows encircle his eyes, and his blonde hair is a little mussed. His clothes are slightly rumpled, and he looks glumly at the tequila in his hand. His cheeks are painted with a subtle flush from the alcohol. You try not to reveal the utter state of adoration he’s put you in as you speak up.

“How are you, Officer Kennedy?”

He throws you a sidelong glance, and you catch it with bambi eyes. “I’m… hanging in there, I guess. I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

You feel as though he’s taken an ax to every single appendage as you giggle softly and tell him your name.

He gives you a small smile as he nods at you. “I see you in the breakroom a lot.” His smile heals the bloody mess he just made, regenerating your wounds until you feel whole again.

“I do too. I’m really sorry about what you’re going through. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling.” You tilt your head sympathetically to show him you really care about his well-being. The angle also shows off your good side.

“Thanks,” he sighs. “I don’t know how something like this could’ve happened to her. Been beating myself up all this time wondering what I could’ve done to prevent this from happening. I don’t know. Sounds kinda crazy, but the other two cases we had felt pretty c-close to me too… You think I’m being real self-centered for that or something? It’s only my first year on the force, and I-I’m trying to process all of this. S’a shitty feeling…” His lets his drunken ramble fade away.

“I think you’re a good and kind person who is just trying to make sense of some horrible events that have happened.” You gently touch his arm as a way of offering comfort, and the feeling of his skin underneath your fingertips evokes an overwhelming surge in between your legs. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Officer Kennedy. You can’t blame yourself for anything.”

He blinks back tears that are starting to brim along his heavenly lashes, and your clit throbs underneath your dress. 

“I really appreciate that.” He smiles at you again which brings forth another wave of sticky arousal in your panties. “And Leon’s fine. Don’t need to do any of that ‘Officer’ stuff with me.”

“Leon.” Your favorite word in the world rolls off your tongue with practiced grace. He doesn’t need to know that you cling to the two syllables every night with frenzied cries as you try desperately to make yourself cum.

“Leon, what do you say we find somewhere a little more quiet? It can get pretty rambunctious and overwhelming in these places…” You lean in closer to gaze up at him underneath your pretty lashes, allowing your carefully selected fragrance to pull him under the depths of your desire, a siren calling out to the shipwrecked prince.

He lets out a stutter as the alcohol-induced blush dusted over his nose and cheeks intensifies further. It’s enough to put a Botticelli painting to shame.

“S-somewhere quiet would be good.”

You give his arm a gentle pat before leading him outside where the crisp night air kisses your faces, giving two lovers a proper welcome. The back of the bar is relatively secluded, and there is a small wooden bench that you promptly perch yourselves on. For the next minute or so, the two of you sit in silence. Your heart is about to blast off towards the moon as the realization that he’s here with his thigh pressed against yours hits you hard.

“Thanks for listening to me back there,” he finally murmurs with his eyes cast downwards. “I don't really want to get into that with the others.”

“Why not? They care about you, and want to make sure you’re okay.” I’m the only one you need, and I’ll make sure it stays that way.

“To be honest… I don't want them to think that I can’t handle myself. That I’m still just a stupid weak rookie who can’t compartmentalize his emotions like a real man.”

“Oh, Leon…” Darling, sweetheart, baby. “You don't have to prove anything to anyone. You’re a talented cop and a great person. You feel everything the way you want to feel. No one’s judging you or looking down on you for it. Trust me on that.”

You’re so caught up in reassuring him that you don’t realize your hand has floated up to cup his cheek until he stammers something unintelligible. You let your thumb rub soothing circles on his soft skin as you continue.

“I mean, anyone can tell how kind and sweet and smart and skilled you are. You have the respect of everyone at work, including mine…”

His flustered expression causes your breath to hitch as you gently brush his bottom lip with your thumb. You could write poetry inspired by the way his lips curve into a shy smile, pulling his faint dimples out of their slumber and letting sweet nothings be whispered to them under the moonlight.

“You want me to make everything better, baby?” You let your murmur be as soothing as possible, an elixir that promises to heal the broken man before you.

He nods bashfully as your forehead touches his. You let your hand fall from his face, and he whines softly at the loss of warmth, and as much as you’d love to mentally record the sound so that it’s playing over and over in your brain for those unfulfilling nights on the kitchen floor, you swallow it up with your own lips.

Your first kiss is what people go to war for. As your lips move together in tandem, you’re overcome with nostalgia for a time when the aroma of freshly baked apple pie wafts through the home and neighbors wave to each other over their white picket fences and Leon comes home with a twinkle in his eyes as he kisses you and the bundle in your arms.

This is why you did what you did.

He whimpers into your mouth as the kiss grows deeper. His hands roam down to your waist, squeezing gently at your sides as you let your tongue intertwine with his. You move your lips south, along his jaw and towards his neck where you set up camp. He lets out a whine as you press your lips particularly hard against the sensitive spot by his throat, taking care to pay attention to the two little moles peeking back up at you.

“P-please…” He gasps at another scrape of your teeth against his delicate skin.

“Just leaving a few marks to remember me by,” you coo. “Making my pretty boy even prettier.”

To your delight, his hips shift uncomfortably at your words. You lower your hand to meet his crotch, gently palming the growing bulge underneath his jeans. His head tips back, proclaiming open season on his throat to which you attack with vigor. Your thighs squeeze together as your lover pants towards the moon. You’re so focused on making your pretty boy feel good with your soft rubs and passionate kisses that you’ve scarcely paid any attention to the soaking gusset of your panties.

You slowly but surely lower yourself to the ground, internally cringing at the feeling of dirt on your knees. Oh well, it’s not the worst thing you’ve ever gotten on you. You perch yourself in between his legs and fumble with his belt buckle. His head returns to its original position as he gazes down at you with flushed cheeks and hooded eyes.

“Y-you don’t have to.”

“I want to, baby. I said I’d make everything better, right?”

“Mmm, yeah.” 

He sighs as you successfully unclasp his buckle and shimmy his hardened cock out of his boxers. You preen at the sight - it’s pretty, just like the rest of him, and weeping for your attention. You gingerly take it in your hands, marveling at the girth as you stroke it up and down with slow movements. He whimpers at the feeling and involuntarily bucks his hips up so that he fucks into your hand. You let him do this a few times before deciding enough is enough.

“What do you want me to do, sweet boy? Tell me, I’ll do anything you want me to.”

“Your m-mouth,” he whispers.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you,” you tease as you hover your lips over the head.

“Want you to put your mouth on it,” he says, sounding more brave. How cute.

You hum in approval as you plant a kiss on the flushed tip of his cock which elicits the sexiest moan you’ve heard from him all night. Your hips roll against nothing, seeking pleasure for the ache in your cunt, but you force yourself to ignore it. You can’t be selfish tonight.

You softly lick at the sides before working on enveloping his length with your warm mouth. You bob your head up and down, relishing in the heavenly noises escaping his lips. You savor the taste of him as you slowly lift your head off to suckle at the tip before diving back in again, letting each inch tease against your throat. Your cheeks hollow out as you gaze up at him through your mascara covered lashes, letting your eyes go hazy with pleasure.

“You’re so pretty,” he heaves as he grips onto the hem of his shirt for an anchor. It’s all too much - your puffy lips stretched wide to accommodate his girth, the black tears trickling down your cheeks as you take him in for everything he’s got, the way you’re massaging his balls to heighten his pleasure. “I’m gonna-”

You pull all the way off, and you swear he almost cries.

“P-please, keep going. Please make me cum, I was almost there…” Tears bead along his lash line, and he desperately reaches for you. Your heart swells as you feel your emotions crash over you at the sight of the man you love crying for you to make him orgasm. How far you’ve come since those melancholy nights on the kitchen floor.Their sacrifices weren’t in vain after all. 

You smile up at him and proceed to pleasure him in the way you can - the way he deserves. The lewd slurping sounds you make fill the air, and he tries not to thrust harshly into your mouth, but it’s all too overwhelming when you’re sucking his cock like it’s your favorite thing to do in the world.

He throws his head back and lets out a high-pitched moan as he bursts into your waiting mouth. You swallow his load, savoring the taste of his cum and trying to commit the feeling of it all into your memory. You pull off of his softening cock and press kisses to his twitching thighs as you observe his blissful state. His chest heaves as he attempts to catch his breath. His cheeks are as flushed as ever and a bit of drool has escaped onto his chin. 

“Th-thank you,” he breathes.

“The pleasure was all mine.” You help him get fully dressed again and capture his lips in one more kiss.

“Do you maybe want to come over tonight? We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to… I-I just don’t think I want to be alone right now.” His eyes are begging, and who are you to deprive them of their desires?

“I’d love to.” You smile sweetly at him and take his hand to lead him to the car, winking up at the stars as you do.

[enrosadiraanisaaa]

Underground Alliance

.Chapter One.

Been wanting to write a street racing fanfic with RE2 Leon for the longest time. It is loosely based on the first Fast and the Furious movie while interweaving actual events from street races from my childhood. Hopefully, some car girlies enjoy this, but even if you're not into cars, please enjoy it! It takes place in 1999 when the Racoon City incident has not occurred yet but the events are still happening. Please comment, tell me if you love it or hate it! To those who waited a long ass time or have moved on from RE, I really hope you enjoy this! And yes, I'm still planning on finishing Within Session.

This story is purely written with RE 2 (Remake) Leon in mind. Yes, my puppy dog boy is all the focus in this one.

Takes place in 1999, Racoon City is not in flames yet!

Yes, I'm terrible at uploading fast, but believe me when I will finish this with the other one!

Loosely based on the first Fast and the Furious movie with real life stories mixed in from my childhood.

I have not decided yet on the rating but expect: Car Sex, Betrayal, Penetrative Sex, Manipulation (sorta), Public Sex, Violence... And more to come!

Summary

         After a series of recent hijackings of Umbrella equipment, Leon Kennedy is sent undercover in the street racing scene to find a notorious perpetrator named to be orchestrating these attacks. Leon struggles with his visage as a street racer while upholding his own morals as a police officer. As a young street racer, you aspire to reign and topple the influence of a major corporation that has its clutches on Raccoon City. Yet, plans are thwarted when an ambitious blonde tries to join the ranks of the most skilled racer.

Please enjoy~ Anisssa أَنِيْسَة

The Colors That Mark You

“Speed, power, and pure chaos now dominate the streets of Raccoon City, a surge of street racing along with other rising trends in crime in recent months—Terri Morales with Raccoon 7 News. Sources have reported 5 hijackings of lab equipment from Umbrella Corporations within the last 3 months. Umbrella truckers are now pointing direct blame at street racers. The recent hijacking is costing Umbrella Corporations billions of dollars and threatening the careers of truckers. Raccoon City Police so far, have no comments on the surge of street racing and the unlawful seizure of Umbrella equipment during transportation. On other reports, the mysterious disappearances on Arklay Moun-” 

                  With one click of the TV remote, the screen abruptly becomes black. Every single day, the consumption of the morning news seemed to blend in with his mundane morning routine before work. The surging crime that continues to transpire around Raccoon City was nothing new to Leon. Hell, the recent murders and disappearances that occurred around the Arklay Mountains last summer are what compelled him to join the Racoon Police Department straight from the police academy.  Now, several months passed in a blur since his orientation day in September, and the adjustment in his career has been everything but exciting. Among his colleagues, Leon was regarded as the rookie, an errand boy to the other officers in his division. Nonetheless, the escalating crime pressured Leon to prove his merit.

       His fingers measly slip each button into the slits of his uniform, proceeding to adjust the blue fabric until he became content with his overall presentation. There he stood before his dresser mirror, the same worn blue eyes staring back at him while his lips managed to form a smile. Truth be told, Leon rather remained tucked under the covers to pretend there were no responsibilities that dictated his adult life. Yet, the paychecks were more than necessary to live in this measly town. Nonetheless, Leon convinced his feet to trudge right out the front door of his apartment to depart for work.

         The sight of the city welcomes Leon to the streets filled with trash, and the homeless camping at nearly every corner. Tourists would assume that the recent crime rate may have driven this city downhill, but Raccoon City was always a sore sight for its residents and outsiders. Leon often wondered if the breakup with his ex-girlfriend before moving into the city was worth the nights dowsing in alcohol. In the end, Leon achieved the career within the RPD he so sought. 

              Rock music plays on the radio while Leon manages to traverse his Jeep through morning traffic in the city. Aside from the occasional honks and cut-offs from other cars, he drove to the police station with ease. Inside the station, the lobby was nearly chaotic since the sightings of cannibals roaming the streets and parts of the mountain only escalated. Plethora of sounds from the police radios, telephones, and the chatter amongst officers only blend in an echo in the main hall. Leon had to admit the station was bustling more than usual.

          Yet, there in all her glory was the Goddess statue standing tall upholding a flag in hand to greet him every single day. 

          “Rookie!” 

   That utterance of that nickname prompts Leon to scrunch his nose, however, he whirls his attention to Eliot in the doorway of the West Office. “Lieutenant Branaugh requires your presence,” He sneered, gesturing with the tilt of his head to accompany him into Marvin Branaugh’s office. As Leon strides behind Eliot, the other officers at their desks perk their heads to glance at Leon walking past his desk. Eliot knocks on the open door to alert the lieutenant of their presence. 

        “Kennedy… the person I wanted to see this morning,” Marvin greets him once he notices the messy blend of dirty blonde hair entering his doorway. The aroma of coffee permeated the air of the small office as Leon was directly in front of his desk. 

      “Sir…” Leon addresses him immediately, his voice holding a level of utmost respect.

       “At ease rookie, take a seat,” The lieutenant extends his hand to the chair behind Leon while Eliot closes the door. Now, a certain heat crept in his uniform as the silence weighed in the enclosed office. Leon spurred thought of possible mistakes he could have made, yet none surfaced that would be worthy of reprimand. 

      “I’m sure you are aware of the rise of hijacking of Umbrella equipment in these past few months…” Marvin eyes the rookie, pulling out several files from the filing cabinet, and spreading them on his desk’s surface. 

     “The truckers are in uproar, and Umbrella is threatening to pull out of Raccoon City if nothing is done to cease the hijackings. We do not want a pharmaceutical company taking matters into their own hands….” Marvin warns, slipping out several photos and documents from the files. 

        Leon nodded along with every word, remembering the report from the morning news. “They speculated these hijackings were orchestrated by street racers…”

“That’s precise, rookie…” Marvin trails off, lining out the photos on the desk to allow Leon to view them clearly. “Which is why I am assigning you to this case…”

        Three photos were aligned perfectly beside each other on the desk. With no context, Leon would have been puzzled at the images. Two pictures displayed skid marks on the road obviously from the crime scene, and the third revealed a truck driver sustaining various bruises on his body. What kind of street racers were these? 

        “The truck drivers have described the exact modus operandi of the vehicles involved, three black 2D coupe cars with red underglows: a 1991 Toyota MR2, a 96 Mitsubishi Eclipse GSX, and a Mazda Miata MX-5. And the lab provided the latest skid marks identical from every scene, Toyo brand tires.”

   Marvin flicks his eyes to the rookie while Leon examines the contents of the images to memory. 

       “These are all JDM cars…” Leon finally comments, bringing his blue eyes to Marvin’s face.

       The lieutenant nods at the blonde’s observation, “Which is why we have indication someone from the street racing scene has organized these recent attacks. A name without a face, someone who is referred to as El Jefe…”

    El Jefe.

     “Doesn’t that mean the boss?” Leon questions, curling his pointer finger underneath his chin.

       “Yes… Kennedy, we want you to investigate him undercover in the racing scene. Pinpoint who he is, integrate into his circle and observe his activity… and reveal the identity of this bastard.” Marvin leans back into his chair, carefully lifting the coffee mug to his mouth. After a satisfied slurp, he sets the mug on his desk with a soft thud. 

     This was the ultimate opportunity for Leon to prove merit to his lieutenant and to the whole precinct. A major case of a circle of street racers responsible for the recent hijackings brought down by an undercover rookie resonated as a great headline on the front cover page of Racoon Times. Only a grin formed on Leon’s lips as his fingers ghost over the photo of the bruised truck driver. “How soon can I start this investigation, sir?”

   “How good are your driving skills, rookie?” Marvin inquires, piquing his eyebrow.

   Snickers are heard behind Leon, prompting the blonde officer to whirl his head to Eliot leaning against a tall filing cabinet. He had nearly forgotten Elliot’s presence during this debriefing. Now his fellow officer was finding means to poke fun at him.

     “This rookie may have scored excellent in everything else , but God his driving… He would crash a parked car somehow,” Eliot taunts before laughing and slapping his knee.

     Leon frowned at the officer with a flustered face and Marvin merely rolled his eyes. “That's enough Edwards, this is your partner during this whole operation.” Marvin sips his coffee, flicking his eyes between Eliot and Leon. “Since Leon is a fresh face, he would blend into the scene.”

     This comment from Marvin seemed to cause the older officer to glower, yet it was directed at Leon. “Hey! That's saying I'm old. Pretty boy here is gonna get him snuffed out like a block of cheese to a rat.” Eliot crosses his arms, slumping against the filing cabinet.

     The lieutenant adjusted his throat, ignoring the blatant complaint from his subordinate. His hands then pull out an additional two photos, two different cars. “These were confiscated a while ago from drug dealers. Now they belong to the department. Rookie, you have the first pick of your ride.”  Both cars were exotic, modded, and designed with decals. However, Leon was oblivious to the model and make of the cars. To earn the attention of El Jefe, it was crucial to learn all specs of the car. 

   “Uhh sir, I honestly don’t know what exact cars these are…” Leon trails off before taking one photo from his desk. A black car with GTR in small letters in the front along with Skyline imprinted in bold letters on the back bumper. 

   “Oh, that one? That's a Nissan R34 Skyline, imported illegally from Japan,” Marvin comments, pointing at the picture. 

     Only a tilt of Leon’s head could be noticed by the lieutenant, impelling Marvin to explain details on how a vehicle could be illegal in the states. “Certain car models like the R34 Skyline have a 25 year import rule, meaning the vehicle has to be 25 years old to be eligible to be imported to the US. It was recently passed into legislation, and you can thank the major American automakers for pushing that law into place,” Marvin clarifies, offering a smile to the rookie.

       Leon returns the smile, nodding with an understanding to the situation of the vehicle. But then the idea struck him with the Skyline.”Maybe this is the vehicle to catch the attention of El Jefe since it's so rare…”

     “Not a bad idea, Kennedy. The Skyline will be your vehicle…” Marvin nods in agreement before flicking his eyes to the other officer behind Leon. “Elliot, your vehicle is the Mitsubishi 3000GT. You boys take care of these vehicles. Tracking devices will be installed, so no funny business!”

       Elliot lets out an audible grumble for getting second pick, reaching over to swipe the other photo from Marvin’s desk. His eyes examine the body of the vehicle before peering at Leon’s pick. Another audible huff escaped through his teeth once he realized that Leon had the superior choice.

      On the other hand, a wide smile seemed to be permanently plastered on the rookie’s lips. This was his first major case, and a case that was notorious around the city. He could barely contain his excitement despite his efforts to remain professional around his colleagues. 

        “On Fridays, there are reports of organized street races around the industrial district of Raccoon City. El Jefe is one to not miss opportunities to win money, so Leon, you will attend these street races. Blend with the crowd, and the most important… Do. Not. Blow. Your. Cover,” Marvin emphasis with each syllable, and word. A pang of anxiety forms in Leon’s chest, almost squeezing the air. While he was ecstatic, this mission could go south if he was careless or cocky… Like Eliot.

    Leon assures his lieutenant with a nod,”Yes, sir. This case is important to find out the bastards who assaulted those truck drivers…”

        That assurance leads Marvin to stand from his chair with two driver licenses in his possession. His hand extends one license to Eliot and the other to Leon.

     “These are your new identities! No longer Eliot Edwards or Leon Scott Kennedy but Eliot Smith and Leon Santoro. You boys will forge an identity and stick to it.” Several heavy steps creaked the floorboards and Marvin returned to his seat.”Both of you are dismissed… the cars will be ready by the evening.” 

     Both officers nod to their superior before finally stepping outside the small office, the door softly clicking behind them. They were just assigned with a profound investigation, but not as Leon Kennedy and Eliot Edwards, but as two racers ready to join the ranks of one the most notorious street racers. Leon realized the urgency in apprehending this savage gang, especially for the safety of those truck drivers.

     Elliot huffed beside Leon, clicking his tongue as he leaned over the rookie’s shoulder near his ear. “Don’t fuck this up for both of us, rookie… or we end up missing like some of those S.T.A.R.S members in last July. Hear me?” He mutters low enough for only Leon to hear. 

      Leon’s fist clenched at his sides, staring forward despite the words whispered from behind. The audacity from Eliot…

      Eliot struts away from the rookie to his desk, a cocky smirk plastered on his face when Leon glances at him. Everyone else was oblivious to the exchanged glares between the officers, engrossed with their own stacks of paperwork on their desks. It was no surprise working with Eliot would be provoking, but Leon was determined to solve this case by any means.

        Raccoon City soon was engulfed by the darkness of night once the orange gleam from the sun soon settled down, replaced by the crescent moon in its place. The Skyline was honestly more than he could handle when he arrived at the auto shop where the car was kept. Something that Marvin failed to mention was that the driver’s seat is on the right side instead of the left and the car is a stick shift, not automatic. This was the night street racers crept out onto the desolate streets, no denying that El Jefe was probably already at one of these spots. 

        Eliot’s pick, the Mitsubishi 3000GT, was held at another auto shop in town to deter any suspicion before the partners were to meet up at the races. Pretending to not know that prick was an easy task for Leon, but he honestly desired nothing more than to be the first one to secure the trust from El Jefe. 

          As Leon traversed the Skyline from downtown Racoon City into the industrial district, his chest weighed with heaviness. Between abandoned old factory buildings, a surplus of exotic cars filled the parking lot. Various music from techno to rap blasted from speakers, cliques of people forming around them. Women dawned in mini skirts and tank tops, leaving nothing to the imagination, gyrating their bodies along with the rhythm. Leon had to use one hand to adjust his pants as he stationed the Skyline besides another car.  

     In the distance, he can hear the revs of engines and tires screeching as several cars raced. Once he stepped out from the driver’s seat, eyes were immediately on Leon. The watchers were murmuring amongst themselves, plenty of them snickering. Being a fresh face, they were hyenas scoping out who this new meat was…

      Now Leon braved a cocky smile, knowing he obviously drove in with a rare vehicle, illegal nonetheless. To fit the role of a youngster seeking to street race, he wore a simple windbreaker and jeans with high tops. 

      “Who the fuck invited this cream puff?”

 Leon ignores the blatant insult from the crowd, walking directly to one of the nearby people.

     One Hispanic bald guy with a long graphic tee with sagging pants leaning on his car, the police’s profiling of a thug off the streets. But Leon was here to make friends, no arrest yet. 

     “How long is the line to race El Jefe?” Leon inquires with no hesitation. 

     The guy scoffs, glancing around his surrounding peers with a snarky chuckle. His posse of men and women follow suit in laughter, shaking their heads. “Hey kid, this ain’t no video game. Fuck off,” He iterates, pressing his attention towards his crew.

    Well, that didn’t work, but Leon was not going to surrender to defeat. He pulls out several bands of cash from the pocket of his jacket. “Maybe this would entice him? A few grand…”

    “Please, this shit is monopoly money, but that-” The man points, gesturing to Leon’s R34 parked in the distance, “El Jefe would compete for… but that’s only if you're prepared to lose it tonight, blondie.” 

     How would Leon justify losing a $200 grand car to the man himself, El Jefe, when reporting to his superiors? If El Jefe did not humiliate or kill him, the RPD would surely have him by the badge. 

     “Consider it a race then… I’m not one to back down from a little challenge,” Leon remarks, the smirk never faltering on his lips. Deep down, the rookie knew he was bound to lose this car. 

       As on cue, the crowd suddenly disperse, almost parting like the Red Sea when a silver car slows in the middle of the street. In the distance, the revs of engines cease while everyone is in awe. People then scramble to opposite sides of the car, waiting for someone to climb out.

    “ ¡El Jefe está aquí!” One man announces, and the watchers erupt into a frenzy. 

    Leon waited there with anticipation for the boss himself to step out of his car, but he never did. The guy who Leon approached earlier walks directly to the driver’s side, the tinted window slightly ajar for the man to speak to the person inside. Then the guy directs his pointer finger at Leon in the distance, muttering words that Leon was unable to hear. 

      Leon’s palms sweat as the tension builds, the fate of his career predicted by this moment. Then the window raises up completely before the man stands in front of Leon. 

  “El Jefe wants to know how a kid like you managed to obtain that car…”

     Shit. The words from Marvin echo like a seance, and Leon has to fabricate a whole backstory. ‘…forge an identity and stick to it…’

    “My dad is in the Air Force and imported this car from Okinawa,” Leon spurred without thought and shrugged as if an illegally imported car was no big deal. 

      There were murmurs from across the crowd that observed the interlude exchange of words in anticipation of a race. Yet, Leon’s revelation of the rare vehicle only piqued an eyebrow of the man before he returned to the agape window, enough for him to relay the message. Despite the indistinct chatter, Leon already assumed a deal was being proposed.    

       The man chuckles, peeling away from the car to confront Leon once more. “El Jefe agreed to race… for the pink slip of that R34. Not too late to back out blondie, that’s of course if you’re a pussy…” He taunts, earning the snickers from the observers.

     These remarks tempted Leon to reveal his badge, vexed at the theatrics flaunted in front of everyone. But Leon held his tongue, dismissing the mockery for this one race.

      “I’m not changing my mind, I’m racing El Jefe…” 

          Once those words escape his lips, slurs and hollering heighten as the mob disperses away from El Jefe’s car. With the street cleared of bodies, Leon took the opportunity to scan the car, immediately detecting ‘Supra’ gleaming below the spoiler. If Leon had heard anything about Supras… they were fast as hell.

       His knees wobbled as he strutted to his R34, climbing inside to the driver’s side with a pounding heart. People were already disputing bets, the majority predicting his inevitable fate while a handful held ambition for the new street racer. Leon positions the Skyline alongside the left side of the Supra, halting on the poorly red spray painted line on the pavement. A woman clothed in minimal attire stands between the two cars.

     The roars from the revved engine of the Supra elicited Leon to turn his head at the tinted window, denying him the chance to glimpse the face behind the glass. It strained Leon that he was unable to identify his face. But the sudden movement from the woman standing between the two cars convinced Leon that his priority now was somehow winning this race. A red laced bra dangles from her hand like a flag, Leon now revving the engine of the rare import. In those mere seconds, it became a pissing contest on which engine revs louder. 

     Leon’s hand grips the steering wheel with vice and his other hand settles on the stick shift. ‘I got this…’ Leon mentally assures himself. Without warning, the woman tosses the crimson brassiere into the air, and the Supra instantly takes off. Tires screech, his hand shifting the stick into first gear after his foot presses into the clutch pedal. Poor hand and foot coordination led to a faulty start, stalling out before the R34 could accelerate. Boos resonate from outside his car, utterly humiliating himself before the crowd. 

   “Shit.” 

      Leon exhales through his nose, attempting to shift the gear with precision. It was playing catch-up at this point but this hiccup did not dishearten his spirit.  With a collective breath, his hands shift the gear to 1, finally accelerating the R34 beyond the red line as his ears tune in with the car's RPM. Lo and behold, his front bumper was nearly tailing the back bumper of El Jefe’s Supra.

           As soon as the blue-eyed rookie believed he had an ounce of chance to win this race, the Supra suddenly surged in speed, stranding Leon behind in seconds. Of course El Jefe spared the use of NOS until the last moment. 

     “Dammit! You son of a bitch!” Leon swears as his foot presses the gas pedal within blind panic, failing to change gears. Before his mind can comprehend what occurs, his Skyline janks until completely spinning out on the road. Even when the car ceases in motion, his blue eyes clenched shut and his hands grip the steering wheel. Eventually, his eyes flutter open while his chest heaves along with shaky breaths. Cheers in the distance ensnare the Rookie’s attention, noticing the crowd surrounding the Supra past the finish line.

      He won…

   Leon slumps his head against the steering wheel, the pounding in his ears only intensifying. In his peripheral vision, Leon notices the Supra drift directly beside the R34. Everyone follows suit around the cars, nothing abates their commemoration over El Jefe’s justified victory.

    Despite his defeat, Leon swings open the driver’s door to confront the crowd and hopefully the man himself. After a moment, the Supra’s door widens slightly, a black leather heeled boot peaking on the cold pavement. Then a second heeled boot settles beside the other with a soft click…

       The sight perplexed Leon as he tilted his head, blinking to ensure his eyes were not deceiving him. His lips parted, noticing curves… and breasts? It finally dawned on Leon when a person extended fully out of the car,  your eyes immediately locking on his blue ones with a glare.

        El Jefe is a woman…

[shadowsofrose]

1998... I'll never forget it... It was the year when those grisly murders occurred in the Arklay Mountains.

[bnnuyko]

RPD - Main Hall

Screenshots in-game of the smaller details that authors may be interested in — ♡

TW; blood

Feel free to request any other details you wish to see — ♡

main hall;

The Daily Raccoon RACCOON CITY, 1998 MISSING MAN FOUND DEAD IN RACCOON CITY Body discovered after five days of searching.

'Family looks for missing teen'

RACCOON TIMES June 22, 1998 Horror in Raccoon City ﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌ More Victims Dead ﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌ The bodies of a young couple were found early Sunday morning in Victory Park, making Deanne Rusch and Christopher Smith the eighth and ninth victims in the reign of violence that has terrorized the city since mid-May of this year. Both victims, aged 19, were reported as missing by concerned parents late Saturday night and were discovered by police officers on the west bank of Victory Lake at approximately 2 A.M. Although no formal statement has been issued by the police department, witnesses to the discovery confirm that both youths suffered wounds similar to those found on prior victims. Whether or not the attackers were human or animal has yet to be announced. According to friends of the young couple, the two had talked about tracking down the rumored "wild dogs" recently spotted in the heavily forested park and had planned to violate the city-wide curfew in order to see one of the alleged nocturnal creatures. Mayor Harris has scheduled a press conference for this afternoon, and is expected to make an announcement regarding the current crisis, calling for a stricter enforcement of the curfew.

CITYSIDE Raccoon City's #1 Newspaper June 21, 1998 "S.T.A.R.S" SPECIAL TACTICS AND RESCUE SQUAD SENT TO SAVE RACCOON CITY With the reported disappearance of three hikers in Raccoon Forest earlier this week, city officials have finally called for a roadblock on rural Route 6 at the foothills of the Arklay Mountains. Police Chief Brian Irons announced yesterday that the S.T.A.R.S. will participate full-time in the search for the hikers and will also be working closely with the RPD until there is an end to the rash of murders and disappearances that are destroying our community Chief Irons, a former S.T.A.R.S. member himself, said today (in an exclusive Cityside telephone interview) that it is "high time to employ the talents of these dedicated men and women toward the safety of this city. We've had nine brutal murders here in less than two months, and at least five disappearances now-and all of these events have taken place in a close proximity to Raccoon Forest. This leads us to believe that the perpetrators of these crimes may be hiding somewhere in the Victory Lake district, and the S.T.A.R.S have just the kind of experience we need to find them." When asked why the S.T.A.R.S hadn't been assigned to these cases until now, Chief Irons would only say that the S.T.A.R.S. have been assisting the RPD since the beginning and that they would be a "welcoming addition" to the task force currently working on the murders full-time. Founded in New York in 1967, the privately funded S.T.A.R.S. organization was originally created as a measure against cult-affiliated terrorism by a group of retired military officials and ex-field operatives from both the CIA and FBI. Under the guidance of former NSDA (National Security and Defense Agency) director Marco Palmieri, the group quickly expanded its services to include everything from hostage negotiation and code breaking to riot control. Working with local police agencies, each branch office of the S.T.A.R.S. is designed to work as a complete unit itself. The S.T.A.R.S. set up its Raccoon City branch through the fund-raising efforts of several local businesses in 1972 and is currently led by Captain Albert Wesker, promoted to the position less than six months ago.

Alberto Paque Ramirez David Cockman Katie Chevalier Manuel Trillo Carmona Stefano Ivan Stinga

In loving memory of those who served with the valor of lions, the nobility of unicorns, and whose ultimate sacrifice is as pure as the maidens of old.

Laura Salomon Ugo Ricard Janet Hsu Luca Baldassarre Francis Ishii

[disturbingstar]

Leon Scott Kennedy trivia

• Leon was only a rookie in Resident Evil 2

• I’m almost every game it’s a different actor that voices Leon

• Leon was planned to be a playable character in Tatsunoko vs. Capcom but was dropped for unknown reasons.

• The name Leon has Greek origins and means Lion. A lion puzzle is featured in Resident Evil 2

• Leon break-up with his girlfriend is pre RE2 is partly the reason he moves to raccoon city

• Leon was one of the first to know something weird was going on in Racoon city due to his interest in the largely publicized murders taking place in and around the Arklay Mountains

• Leon was portrayed by the late Brad Renfro in a 1998 ad for Resident Evil 2 directed by George Romero

• Leon was late to his first day as a cop in Racoon city because he was hungover

•He joined STRATCOM to protect Sherry

• Leon is an Italian American immigrant

• More than 70% of players played Leon first in Resident Evil 2

• Leon's name can be a reference to the character of Jean Reno in the film The Professional. In the feature, Natalie Portman's character is called Mathilda, the same name as the special weapon used by Leon in Resident Evil 4

• Leon has appeared in several non-Resident evil games

[visionsofmagic]

leon scott kennedy "resident evil 4 remake" icons 

 "1998... I'll never forget it... It was the year when those grisly murders occurred in the Arklay Mountains." 

✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦

[dalekofchaos]

Resident Evil 0 Remake concept

There are rumors that RE1 is getting remade again and I'm all for it. Here is why I think that's a good thing, that and I believe we should get the following released in the specific order. 1, 0, then Code Veronica and finally RE5. Cause if you tease RE5 and have Wesker, you should have the three games that featured Wesker before his death in Re5. But with that out of the way, here is my pitch for a RE0 Remake.

I feel like if they do a RE0 remake, it needs to be completely overhauled. Story needs to be changed, while keeping the Rebecca-Billy dynamic and most importantly should focus on the fall of Bravo Team and actually make sense.

First in the RE1 remake V2, Rebecca CANNOT be in the corner cowering from a Hunter when she is more than capable. A simple scream of surprise, but when we reach Rebecca, we see that she's perfectly fine

Bravo Team is investigating the bizarre murders in the Arklay Mountain

Billy Coen, same story as before. He objected to a massacre. Billy Coen is framed as the murderer after being the only one from his unit to come back alive and was painted as crazy/suffering from PTSD. Obviously Billy is innocent as we'd later find out

The whole Opera leeches is stupid, so just have it be revealed that Marcus is acting on Spencer’s instructions by releasing the T-Virus, and maybe reveal that Marcus was behind the Arklay murders and that is why S.T.A.R.S. is sent to investigate.

We would see Bravo team fall one by one

After killing a Tyrant Prototype-Marcus, Rebecca and Billy would separate.

The ending would be Rebecca and Richard barely making it alive to the Spencer Mansion

DLC:Billy's story. Basically answering what the fuck happens to Billy since Capcom obviously has no interest returning to Billy. The massacre his unit ordered? Billy would find out it was on Umbrella's orders. Billy then has to escape Arklay alive.

[redemptivexheroics]

Reunion [Closed]

@faeryworlds

It had been two months since the whole incident in the Arklay Mountains and the discovery that the whole mess with the cannibalistic murders was due to a biological virus created by the pharmaceutical giant Umbrella. Chris, of course, heard what happened to Raccoon City from Jill, how the virus had infected the entire city, turning its citizens into mindless flesh-craving zombies, and then the city got nuked. That is more reason to bring Umbrella down. He was just outside his hotel room, failing to get a candy bar out of the vending machine, and kicked it in frustration. "Piece of the shit machine," he cursed, but he soon heard a motorcycle, and something made him look up as a girl removed her helmet and locked eyes with his baby sister, Claire. "Claire!?" Chris said as he rushed over. She hadn't even been off her bike a full minute before he pulled her into a hug. He had found out she had gone to Raccoon City looking for him and had been there before it got nuked. "I'm so glad you're okay!"

[lapis-lights]

Since Falling From Grace is done, we come up on planning for the next story :D

Below the cut are four different prompts, all summarized with the general idea then a potential blurb I came up with to get a feel for what kind of vibes each one gives off. Please vote on which one you like the best. From top to bottom are the ones I have most planned out to the least planned out.

For all my filthy little fans, yes, all of them will have smut in some way but it won't be the focal point of the story.

.·.·Desert Rose·.·.

Prompt: Leon and his family grew up alongside yours. Your moms had been high school best friends and in a way, your home was also his. When his family is brutally murdered, he had come to live at your family's place for a while before returning to complete his training at the officer's academy. Steam had been begging to be blown off, bad decisions waited to be made, and hormonal feelings had led up to one night of no bounds.

It's been years since then, and you live at the beach house alone now...so you don't exactly expect Leon to show up at your doorstep with a couple of bags and looking to crash for a few weeks as a vacation.

[Childhood Friends to Strangers to Lovers]

You swallow upon seeing him in a simple t-shirt that hugs his muscular figure and gray sweatpants that do little to hide his modesty. After all these years of radio silence, why did he come sweeping in like things were still the same? How could he stand there in your home as if things were that simple?

That night, he had molded you into him, kissed you like he worshipped you, whispered praises and encouragements to obscenities that would make even the filthiest person alive blush. Then he was gone, slipping through your fingers like sand in a timeless hourglass.

Leon raises an eyebrow, lowering the coffee mug from his very-kissable lips. "Is something wrong?"

The children versions of you would sneak to each other's rooms to read under the covers with flashlights and the book of the summer. The teenage versions of you still snuck to each other's rooms and still went under the sheets but in a very different sense. Now, he acts like none of it happened.

Yes, something was very clearly fucking wrong.

"No," you say and look out the window at the rolling water and waves. "Nothing's wrong...at all."

The ocean doesn't seem to agree.

.·.·Eden·.·.

Prompt: You and Leon break up the night before he's due to Raccoon City, and the fallout is more than rough on both ends. While it forces Leon to survive the tragic events of the virus outbreak in the Arklay Mountains, you only get worse in your own way. Six years later, you meet again and old feelings rise as you and Leon face the shattered remains of your relationship. Your old paradise, your Garden of Eden, had withered...but seeds sleep underground and wait to grow. All it takes is the right conditions.

[Exes to Friends to Lovers]

Leon looks tired, shadows handing under his eyes as the round baby face of his old life has shrunk into something more sharp and defined. A permanent frown seems etched into his face as scrutinizes you back.

You're less bold, more quiet, and holding yourself like you don't trust anybody else to touch you. Once upon a time, his head would've be in your lap as you kissed away his sorrows and assured him you would be with him for eternity.

God promised eternal happiness then left humanity to fend for themselves. You suppose this must be the rapture.

"Hi, Leon," you whisper, hands running up and down your arms as you self-soothe, hoping the heartbreak isn't as apparent in your voice as you thought.

It is.

"...Hi, (Y/n)."

.·.·Condor Two·.·.

Prompt: You and Leon have been attached at the hip since your first mission and since then, you two have been practically inseparable as partners on the field. However, on a solo mission, you had gone missing. You'd gone radio silent after being dispatched to Spain to locate the president's missing daughter, though FOS believes you'd been caught by Los Illuminados. Leon flies out to not only find Baby Eagle but to find his Condor Two as well.

[Coworkers to Lovers/Friends to Lovers]

Leon looks around at the nature, all dying leaves and heavy humidity. They suspect Ashley's somewhere in a nearby village and by further extent, you as well. He just hopes he's not too late...

He checks the bullets in his handgun and presses further down the path, finding sacrificial stone buried into the ground and blood smeared across rocks. He desperately prays it wasn't your own. You're a smart girl, and you definitely wouldn't have gone silent for no reason. So what could have happened that led to your capture in the first place?

You're smile reflects in his mind and he frowns, rolling out his shoulder.

He had to find you. He had to.

.·.·Whiskey and Wine·.·.

Prompt: Leon is a regular at the bar you serve at, and though you've never properly met, you've memorized that handsome stranger's order down to a T. When you end up in said stranger's bed one morning, you're quickly pulled into his life and sent on an adventure that leaves you breathless.

[Strangers to Friends with Benefits to Lovers]

He's got a stubble that is in need of shaving but peppers across his jaw in a way that's nothing short of attractive. He raises a thick eyebrow at you and your frantic state, glancing at your ex who's storming over to the bar to give you a piece of his mind for talking at another man past the point of a standard order.

"Shit," you hiss under your breath. "It was nice talking to you, but I have to go."

"Wait, the stranger says. "I need to know who you are."

Your ex is getting closer and you don't want this mystery attractive stranger caught up in it. With a rush, you say, "(Y/n)," and walk away.

You can still feel the stranger's eyes searing into your back as you disappear out of the main room and into the back.

[least-evil-resident]

After Raccoon

A Canon divergent/sequel/au? Where the missile that destroyed the city was aimed just a little bit to the left. On purpose.

Maybe the Simmons family illuminati stuff comes into play where the direct coordinates are fudged a bit in the final order. So that Umbrella can continue its expirements in secret. Or maybe the government did it in order to use the now quarantined city as a testing ground. Developing their own bows or cures for them? Maybe later on the various organizations like the bsaa and blue umbrella send training squads there. A slightly better version of operation raccoon city, narratively speaking.

Following the Outbreak characters through the initial events? Seeing some of them we left behind? Solving a couple mysteries like what happened to x character after.

It feels very Dying Light where the city is in shambles and cut off from the rest of the world. And maybe later on or in between we can explore the rest of Arklay county, mountains, and raccoon forest. Maybe a Max Brooks style series of chain events/encounters that lead up to and after the end. Short stories about the first hikers to dissappear, the expirements done on them. Anthology about the mysterious cannibal murders and rabid animal attacks.

And then the aftermath. A scavenger city built on the ruins surrounding the smoldering crater. The teams sent in and the survivors trying to get out. Maybe air drops of potential 'cures' or new viruses. Tyrants forming, some of them half sentient or out of control.

A survivor trying to escape the city, then the county, then the mountains and forest. Grabbing weapons and building cars, exploring abandoned or still running umbrella facilities. Only to get nabbed in the end by umbrella/the government they've been dodging for so long.

I feel like there's a lot of potential in exploring what happens after the bomb. How the country outside is handling this open sore in the Midwest. Are there protests and riots and people breaking in without knowing about the undead hordes on the other side?

Do lickers climb the battlements of the walls at night, only to get beaten back by flamethrowers and turrets? How are the people who control the border trained, and what are they not allowed to know? Is there some elite special forces black ops type squad making sure nothing escapes?

Little survivor communities huddled around trash fires, trading company scripts for rations and bullets. Posting little messages to their internal network that's cutoff from the outside internet. Videos of adrenaline junkies smashing zombie heads for twitch streams. That feels sort of Dead Island 2, or a little Dead Rising. How would Frank West handle a t virus outbreak?

And of course, Hunk. The grim reaper. Maybe his new squad is going around doing clean up, trying to get cities back online, eradicating nests. Killing whatever mad scientists or their expirements are left in underground labs. How do they handle survivor groups begging for help? How calloused do you have to be about human lives and casualties? How do you handle a Tyrant that's sometimes just a young woman who can still cry and talk, but sometimes loses her mind and eats people?

I feel like there's a lot of potential for stories to tell in the aftermath. Yeah

[sapphire-weapon]

Adding onto pre-REmake info and intentionality in the scripts... this is one thing that will irritate me to the grave. "I was told to stay away" tells us SO MUCH BUT SO FUCKIN LITTLE, in both story (though this has the potential to be called back to someday) and character (unlikely to be addressed).

Who called Leon? WHY? WHAT did they know? WHY did young Leon decide to ignore the advice? What happened in his life to drive him into a potentially dangerous situation (whether he knew the full scale is irrelevant.) He was 21, with zero mentioned conmections, no friends, relationships or family. I could ramble about it for hours but the fact we got a lil golden nugget of a ridiculously important throwaway line, that nobody who made this game probably remembers anyway... I just... *grieves enormously*.

the likeliest answer is honestly jill or barry (but probably jill). we only have OG to go off of, but at the time that leon got this call, chris was in europe taking the fight to umbrella and jill was planning to join him. barry was in the process of moving his family to canada, and then he was also going to join chris. they both would've known that leon was starting soon, and they both would've known that he'd be coming in from out of town (out of state?) to do so.

the reason why i say jill over barry, though, is because jill stayed behind specifically to keep an eye on the workings of the umbrella research lab in raccoon city, whereas barry was distracted with his own family. it would've been at the forefront of her mind.

if RE3make had been done with more care, this probably would've been addressed in it. but it wasn't, so that didn't happen.

and again, only having OG to go off of, leon took the job in raccoon city specifically because of the murders that led the STARS team to the arklay mountains in RE0/1 in the first place. for him to want to be involved in a case like that and then get a mysterious call "stay away from the city"? of course he'd want to know what the fuck that was about. of course he'd want to be involved even more. that's like some classic noir shit right there. he had no way of knowing it was less noir and more romero, so it makes sense that he'd never expect a goddamn zombie apocalypse to be the reason behind that call.

RE2 leon (even in RE2make) is a 21 year old with a chip on his shoulder and something to prove. he's the kind of young person who would get this call and then continue to go to the city just out of sheer spite (in addition to his overwhelming curiosity), because he thinks he can handle whatever it is that he's being warned against. he even says to marvin "i wish i'd come sooner."

maybe this will be addressed in a later remake, if it really WAS jill. but for now, it's still a pretty safe assumption.

and always bet on RE2 leon being a dumbass.

[bluedivvy]

Resident Evil Quarry AU:

Resident Evil Zero and Resident Evil (posting these in 2 parts since most games are connected that way)

gonna be completely honest, i dont know much about resident evil 0 but from the little knowledge i have of the game i added it to fit into the story. created in 1978 by professor james, leeches were released to create the W-virus. they were made with the intent to infect people with their bite and turn them into werewolves to create separate hosts. bravo team, members of the stars police forces, were sent into the arklay mountains to investigate a series of murders. their helicopter crashes due to an engine failure and discover a separate police force, including files of billy coen, a convicted murderer that they assume caused the unknown deaths in the range. they split up to find the man, however rebecca discovers a train and meets billy coen, who ends up helping her discover the unknown threat. they fight against the "man-eaters" otherwise known as werewolves that overrun the train, including a large scorpion and later a tyrant werewolf (the scorpion remains a scorpion because it was part of umbrella's research into arachnid-based bio-weaponry).

meanwhile, stars alpha team were sent into the arklay mountains to investigate the bravo team's disappearance. they arrived on a full moon, lost in the wooded darkness of the highlands. albert wesker, field leader, escorted alpha team across the arklay range until they were attacked by a large, feral creature, otherwise a werewolf. they fled inside the spencer mansion after brad vickers took advantage of the helicopter and left. however, in that short period of time, chris redfield had gone missing and the remaining members searched the mansion for him. after uncovering a series of letters, notes and clues left behind by the estates' owners, jill valentine learned about the werewolf virus and crafted silver ammo to go against them. she found the remaining bravo team, some turned to werewolves and others on the brink of death, and saved the remaining member, rebecca chambers. alpha team found chris and uncovered wesker's plan that set up their demise and betrayed the team. after fighting the tyrant werewolf, the team fled the arklay range and assumed wesker's death.

a very poor representation of the tyrant werewolf. they were werewolves reimagined by umbrella to make them stronger and more advanced. this one is called T-002 and was created in the arklay lab. its basically a gigantic, veiny, warted werewolf with exposed heart and organs (not very smart umbrella) its most notable feature is its large claws

[purpledusty]

[During investigations of the murders in the Arklay Mountains]

Chris: Is today Thursday or Friday?

Jill: It's Wednesday

Barry: Guys... it's Sunday

Jill:

Chris:

Chris: It's still 1998 right?

[rabbitholeresearch]

The Diagnosis of Chris Redfield

It all began in the spring of 1998. Raccoon City had a case of cannibalistic murders and mysterious animal attacks, both on hikers and residents that lived near Raccoon Forest. The city’s police department guess a satanic cult of some kind, probably on narcotics of some kind, given the extent of the violent attacks. However, as the investigation continued, they guessed the base of operations for this cult was somewhere deep within Arklay Mountains, about northwest of the city. With public pressure, the RPD gave in to and put a specialized task force on the team known as the Special Tactics and Rescue Service, AKA S.T.A.R.S., led by Captain Albert Wesker.

Shortly after STARS is put on the case, they send Team Bravo into the suspected hideout deep within said mountains in the mid-summer. Radio contact is lost. Alpha Team went in, finding out that Bravo was attacked, and fled into the mansion and split up.

And it’s here. It is here that young Chris Redfield’s life takes a turn for the worst. Without getting too into detail, he straight up is thrown from the world of a young cop who just had fun little shooting competitions with his friends, to a gritty, beefcake, boulder punching man who lost his memory at one point due to a concussion caused by a fake Ada Wong, regains those memories, and eventually finds the origins of Oswald Spencer’s research and destroys the origination of the Mold.

But that’s just it. How does he stay this cool, badass character that just shows up and sprays down zombies like it’s nothing? Well...he doesn’t. I think the leader of the Alpha team has severe PTSD.

Please note that this post will be talking about severe trauma from a psychiatric perspective so please, if you see or think anything might affect you, I beg you to turn away. This post will also have spoilers for the recent Resident Evil 8 game for those that haven’t played.

–

So let’s start by defining PTSD. According to the American Psychiatric Association, PTSD is and I quote: “A psychiatric disorder that may occur in people who have experienced or witnessed a traumatic event such as a natural disaster, a serious accident, a terrorist act, or war/combat.”

Okay so at the very least, Chris Redfield is probably already a qualified patient. “Terrorist act”? Check. I would absolutely say that the events of Resident Evil 6 count as that. “War/Combat”? We saw that for the most part in RE5. “Natural Disaster?” Aaaaah. Maybe six or seven? That one’s kinda weird to be honest. But serious accident? Yes. Absolutely! Why? Because, referenced in Resident Evil 5, we see Jill Valentine, who is basically his sidekick/best friend from the very first game, and even survives on her own for a bit in Resident Evil 3, falls out of a window after attacking Albert Wesker who betrayed STARS and was infected with some form of the zombie virus. Chris presumed her death, only to find out she survived the fall through, ya know, video game logic, and was experimented on by Wesker.

Which honestly, I was surprised he didn’t come back too. I mean, in Resident Evil 5, his last hoorah is literally in a freaking volcano! What is up with that?! But his son, Jake Muller (who until RE6 didn’t even know who his dad was), appeared and I really expected Wesker to just pop up like “Hey son. I’m back with those smokes. Also, you’re immune to the C-Virus so congrats. My zombie body helped make you with your mom--” Alright that got too weird. ANYWAY.

We’re here because Chris, in all fairness, has trauma. But let’s try and figure this out. The A.P.A. states that PTSD symptoms, though they can vary in specificity, fall into four categories:

Intrusion

Avoidance

Alterations in cognition and mood

Alteration in arousal and reactivity

Now I will say I actually have PTSD of my own. Avoidance and Intrusion are absolutely symptoms I got through, as well as Cognition and Mood alterations when triggered.

Something I noticed is Chris definitely doesn’t avoid anything so we can go ahead and cross that off. Chris Redfield always dives in headfirst cuz well...he’s the American Boy. He’s the definition of charge in and be the American hero because human lives are at stake so the second one is crossed off.

Now the third one, Cognitions and Mood. This basically means important details of events aren’t remembered, everything’s kinda blurred, which results in detached behavior and Survivor’s Guilt. Now while Survivor’s Guilt is often a result of PTSD, it isn’t a form of PTSD. It’s just another symptom. It’s basically kinda like when you eat way, way too many blue gummy bears and then your poop is blue. It’s blue because of the gummy bears. If you didn’t have the Gummy Bear, you don’t have the blue poop. 

Fun fact, that’s an actual thing that happened to my dad one Easter, but I think it might’ve actually been jelly beans. I can’t really remember.

Survivor’s Guilt could very well be something Chris suffers from, dating all the way back to the Mansion Incident in the first Resident Evil. He was one of few people who survived that entire incident and what happened afterward? Did he take a mental health break? Nope! Chris takes on a mission in Europe, as seen in Resident Evil 2 when Claire is going to Raccoon City to try and find her brother. 

Now let’s think about this. Rather than rest and recover from this event, he proceeds to pursue his investigation of the Umbrella Corporation. Chris is treated at the hospital and, despite trying to report their findings to the police chief, Irons, STARS is ultimately shut down. Chris then reports everything he needs to the FBI and even assaults a fellow officer.

The RPD tells Chris he needs a break and he says he’s going to Europe for a “vacation” but this was just an excuse to get to Europe in order to enact his vengeance on Umbrella for all the Hell it caused his city and possibly even the world.

That’s nuts. I wish I could do that at my work and get away with it. Just fight someone on the shift and then go to Corporate armed with nothing but a fry basket, ready to take them out.

This leads me to that fourth category: Alterations in arousal and reactivity. This is defined as reckless or self-destructive behavior, angry outbursts, hypervigilance, and even trouble sleeping.

This is entirely reckless. I mean, I get it. Going rogue because this company is obviously evil and has a hand in bio-terrorism. Yeah. That’s fair. Let’s take them out. But if only it were that easy, as we can see throughout the franchise. Despite Umbrella BARELY hiding their attempts at world domination, as seen in RE6, no one really flinches. They’re somehow still in the running.

Having said that, in Resident Evil 4, three years after RE3, Leon actually says in the introduction that Umbrella was wiped out by the investigation. Without digging into this, I’m presuming this is because Jill managed to escape Raccoon City and was able to report her findings as one of five survivors, six if you count Ada Wong. Which does make me wonder how they’re still hanging around like a more gruesome Team Rocket.

And the last category is Intrusive. Now, this is where this unravels, actually. Intrusive is basically intrusive thoughts. Those little thoughts or images that flash through just enough to unsettle you and if you’re like me and have diagnosed OCD, then you play these thoughts over and over in your head.

It’s like you want to go to the park. Okay, great, the park is outside. Nice. The outside is where people are. People aren’t that great, in my perspective. Bad people exist. Bad people like to hurt people. I’m a people that could be hurt by a bad person. Because of that, I can’t go to the park now. 

It’s like being stuck in a loop that wants you to be sad. Like, thank you brain. I just wanted to get stuck in the baby swing but now I’m going to sit on my phone and scroll through TikTok and be sad.

Intrusive thoughts are what had me curious. The intrusive category is actually where most people are commonly confused about what PTSD is as this is where we find that flashbacks fall into. A great example of a flashback in Resident Evil is actually in the fifth game. This is where Jill Valentine doesn’t really become Chris’ partner. We learn that during the last bout, they had against Wesker is where she’d fallen out the window as I mentioned earlier. This is explained in a flashback.

That’s interesting to me. Yes, from a storytelling perspective, it makes sense, but Chris remembers such vivid details, even Wesker’s eyes glowing.

But what’s interesting is, this event, in particular, seemed to affect Chris the most. Despite that his sister has been kidnapped by people affiliated with both Umbrella and Wesker, Jill’s “death” shook him up the most, which is fair. His best friend and partner throughout the entire thing, someone he shared his trauma with and even started the BSAA with was just gone. No even a body. Three months and nothing was found before she was declared dead. He dove into his work head-on, taking every mission he could!

This is why he takes deaths so personally. This is also shown in Resident Evil 6 when Piers, a young soldier who looked up to Chris and helped find him after he lost his memory after an incident with a fake Ada Wong, is infected with the zombie virus, he holds onto his humanity in order to save Chris, but ultimately does die in the underwater lab facility, supposedly by water pressure before losing his mind to the virus.

The former Alpha Team consisted of the following:

Chris Redfield

Albert Wesker

Barry Burton

Brad Vickers

Jill Valentine

Joseph Frost

All members of the original team that infiltrated the Spencer Mansion in RE1. Let’s go ahead and cross some people off.

Wesker? Dead as of Resident Evil 5. Good. Stay dead. You suck! You’re like the Capcom version of Ganondorf, just stay dead, dude!

Burton?  Alive, but hasn’t appeared in a main RE game since the first.

Vickers? Dead as of the third installment of the game. He was the pilot who sacrificed himself after being bitten during the attempted escape from Nemesis in Raccoon City before the place was blown sky-high. You actually see him later again in the third game attacking the cop you meet in the second Resident Evil, interestingly enough, but what’s sad really is that he still has some semblance of his humanity and ends up groaning out the cop’s name before attacking and infecting that man. Poor guy. Really was just a poor soul.

Moving on. Jill Valentine? Still alive and definitely kicking but she’s become more of an iconic character for the movies. So from a lore perspective, as of the end of 5, she is no longer in the main series that we’ve seen. Mostly just referenced. This might change however later on as I do believe there will be a ninth installment coming soon if not already in the works as of writing this.

Frost? Dead. He was actually the first to die as soon as they touched down at Spencer Mansion, by zombie-dogs, no less. He stood no chance.

That means, of the original team, Chris is the only one still active. This means that he is the most trained to handle situations from a tactical perspective, but not an emotional one.

I mean, we see him really weighing the whole situation in Resident Evil 8. He’s seen smoking a cigarette, clearly stressed out and tired of dealing with everything, despite creating an Anti-Umbrella team called Blue Umbrella. Yeah. Not that creative, my guy. But he’s tired of hearing and seeing people die which...is fair.

I’d say he does have PTSD and it is Survivor’s Guilt.

Yes, he and his team are ready to die, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s losing people he’s had long nights with, sharing beer, shooting pool, busting bad scientists with, and he still loses them.

In the military, a soldier doesn’t fear his own death but the death of his comrades.

Survivor’s Guilt is really just a terrible thing. I’d say actually several characters in the Resident Evil franchise have this, including poor Mia Winters!

Chris might have it but uses it to his advantage. He uses the knowledge he’s gained from staying alive in an attempt to help others stay alive and ultimately bring down the Umbrella Coorporation.

Ultimately, Chris Redfield seems to be wanting to make up for the lives lost to this organization.

Research links:

Coping with survivor’s guilt: https://artherapyinternational.org/blog/traumatic-events-coping-with-survivors-guilt-afterwards/

What is PTSD?  https://www.psychiatry.org/patients-families/ptsd/what-is-ptsd

Chris Redfield Bio https://residentevil.fandom.com/wiki/Chris_Redfield#Biography

Symptoms of Survivor’s Guilty: https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/325578#symptoms