#leon s kennedy x oc | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mandalhoerian · 2 months ago

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what could’ve been

some time to breathe, nttd au

genre: fluff summary: In a different world, they both make it to some shitty motel outside of Raccoon City, take some time to breathe. Or, perhaps, entertain thoughts that are entirely too inappropriate to be brought up in these circumstances. But, who could blame them for wanting to forget, even for just a moment? note: @mykobirb this brainrot is your fault. Thank you so much for talking to me and all the effort you put into these beautiful pieces, hope I was able to give back somehow 😭

[read on ao3]

The motel room is cramped and dim, the kind of place that feels forgotten by time, neglected and left to decay. The wallpaper peels at the corners, curling in brittle, yellowed strips, while dark water stains spread across the ceiling like bruises that never quite healed. Above, a single flickering bulb sways, casting uneven, trembling light that makes shadows skitter along the worn carpet. The carpet itself is threadbare, its faded pattern barely visible beneath the stains of years of neglect. The ceiling fan rattles with each slow turn, a faint, rhythmic sound that barely masks the low hum of a vending machine in the hallway. The air is thick with the mingling scents of cheap soap and damp linens, underscored by the sharp metallic tang of dried blood that stubbornly clings to the corners of the room. It's not much—far from comfortable, far from safe—but for now, it will do.

In the corner of the room sits an ancient, wooden table, its surface scratched and scarred by decades of careless use. Two mismatched chairs sit before it, their backs curved and battered from years of support. Upon the tabletop is an open first aid kit, the supplies hastily strewn about as if someone had searched the box for something in particular only to leave empty-handed. To one side rests a half-eaten bowl of lukewarm chicken noodle soup.

In one chair is Vera, sitting hunched forward, her arms folded over her knees and her chin resting upon them, her black curls damp and frizzing slightly from the shower. The oversized shirt she wears swallows her frame, the fabric soft but smelling faintly of detergent that doesn’t belong to her. Before her lies the open folder she took from Umbrella's NEST facility, displaying photographs of documents and records and scribbled notes in messy handwriting—her collection of evidence regarding Raccoon City. But tonight, she looks on listlessly at the papers and photos, too exhausted to focus on the information they contain, her brow furrowed in thought. Beside her rests her fat backpack that she's given up on sorting through, contents falling out and haphazardly dropped on the ground because it doesn't feel important right now. It had been like trying to make sense of a storm after it’s passed—futile and impossible, her brain too scrambled to connect dots with anything tangible.

She doesn't want to close her eyes, because when she does, all she can see is the undead remnants of Raccoon City. Bodies piled atop bodies, flesh ripped apart, rotting bones sticking from burst stomachs, milky cataract-covered sunken eyelids staring emptily into nothingness.

The worst is the one flier with her father's face--Marvin Branagh, officer of the month--that she found in that godforsaken lab is sitting right in front of her just beside the folder. Because she needs something to torture herself with like it's not enough having already seen what those monsters did to him. The lively, energized image of her father staring back at her from a suspended moment in time leaves her gut aching in pain with fresh grief every time. She can't stop replaying the final moments with Marvin, trying to cling onto memories instead of remembering burying her dead dad's body just hours ago under the rain pouring relentlessly onto her while feeling more alone than ever.

She knows she should rest—they both should—but even the mere idea of sleeping sends icy shards of dread skittering down her spine. Closing her weary eyelids brings vivid visions of bloody teeth snapping in a ravenous frenzy, of claws reaching out, scrabbling for purchase. So instead, she focuses on her surroundings, forces herself to remember where she is—in a motel, far away from Raccoon City, trapped between the endless desert and sprawling highways, safely tucked away from harm.

Across the room, the bathroom door opens with a long, weary creak. Leon steps out, hair damp and curling at the edges, droplets still clinging to his skin, wearing a pair of grey sweatpants they picked up at the motel’s sorry excuse for a market, but his torso is bare, left only with the dirty bandages wrapped around his left shoulder and across his ribs. The sight makes her chest twist, a tangle of emotions she can’t quite untangle—relief, guilt, something else she refuses to name.

He looks… better, though. Exhausted, but lighter, somehow, like some of the weight of Raccoon City has been stripped away. His eyes find hers almost immediately, and there’s something fragile in his gaze, as if he’s afraid she might vanish if he looks away. It tugs at the knot of tangled emotions deep within her gut. She wonders if that same fear haunts him, too, if he worries that she, too, will simply disappear without warning. After everything, she can hardly blame him, if it were true. She's still worrying about Claire and Sherry even though they're right next door, not knowing when they'll wake up and whether or not they're going to be safe.

Her eyes drop to his bandages again, fresh blood from his irritated wound under the shower already staining the dirty gauze, and then at the supplies sitting abandoned on the table in front of her. Some things are easier to talk about than others. Easier to dwell on.

She straightens in her seat, motioning toward the empty chair across from her with a tilt of her head. "C'mere."

At the sound of her command, Leon moves automatically, padding over and sinking into the chair, the worn cushion groaning beneath his bulk. Her limbs feel restless, fingers itching to clean and redress his injuries. A compulsion she can't explain, an ache she can't shake. After everything she saw tonight, this—this she can fix. This she can control.

Once he takes the chair, Vera leans over, turning the first aid kit sideways to reveal its hidden treasures. Bandage rolls, ointment containers, packets of antibacterial wipes, several sizes of gauze squares. It isn't much, but it'll have to do until they get help tomorrow. Help she can't quite bring herself to trust.

"Those bandages need to be changed," Vera says quietly, selecting a few items. The roll of clean gauze, the container of antibacterial cream—the wipes she decides to forego because the damage is done. That cut on his temple from Annette Birkin needed them anyway. What he needs now are clean bandages and relief for the pain, which won't happen overnight. She doesn't dare ask if he remembers anything of her last patchwork attempt, nor does she look into his face as she turns back to him.

But despite her best efforts at professional indifference, there's no missing the slight hitch in Leon's breath. The memory hangs between them like a ghost, eerie and incomplete—an echo of a nightmare neither wants to acknowledge. They haven't talked about that fleeting moment in the sewers—not directly, not truly. To do so would mean giving life to those haunted fragments. To put a name to this newfound... shared trauma-fueled something between them that neither dares define aloud. And maybe that's okay. Vera wants to forget about it. It would be twice as better if Leon also did so. If he did, she could pretend nothing happened. Yet his silence speaks volumes, hanging between them like an unspeakable truth that neither knows how to parse out or move beyond.

His wound begins to bleed more heavily from agitation. Blood seeps from beneath the dirtied gauze covering his shoulder, wetting the edges and beginning to trickle down his skin in thin crimson trails. Vera's nose scrunches in displeasure, her tongue clicking against the roof of her mouth in disgust, before rising to her feet and plucking one of the towels off the dresser top.

Without another wasted second, Vera draws nearer and starts dabbing carefully at the wounds with the cloth. The fabric comes away stained pinkish red, leaving bloody marks behind. Her touch is light and dexterous, quick but thorough as she swabs away most of the moisture. Not a perfect job—hardly professional, really—but it will suffice, just for now. Enough to stave off infection and keep him comfortable during the night. Tomorrow morning, however, requires a different approach. One they'll worry about later, once everyone else wakes up.

With practiced motions, she smooths out a new square of clean gauze over the punctures on his shoulder, fastening it securely. Satisfied with her work, Vera reaches for the medical tape—a stretchy rubber band used for wrapping larger dressing jobs, stored neatly in a paper wrapper inside the medkit. The band snaps back easily as she removes it from its packaging, then holds it between her teeth to keep her hands free. With a small grunt of exertion, she begins pulling at both ends until the elastic gives way. It stretches thin between her clenched teeth, resembling something like taffy, before finally coming undone with a resounding snap. Vera winces reflexively, anticipating the sharp sting of the impact.

Instead, she catches Leon staring at her from beneath dark lashes. She pauses briefly, her breath caught in her throat and heart skipping a beat, before quickly averting her attention elsewhere. From somewhere outside, tires squeal across pavement, followed by muffled music blaring through open windows.

Leon lifts his right hand and gently plucks the length of elastic from between her lips. "Got it," he murmurs. His palm brushes hers, rough and calloused but warm. There's a rasping edge to his whispered apology, low and almost imperceptible, the sound sending goosebumps racing along Vera's skin. Heat rushes to her face, her ears burning hot as embarrassment washes over her like a wave, bringing forth a bout of uncomfortable prickliness. She musters an awkward smile, hoping that the poor lighting hides her flush, and tries not to linger too long on the way his touch lingers.

With ease, Leon secures the stretchy band around the clean gauze, locking it in place, the material sealing tightly around the perimeter of his wounds while Vera prepares the bandage roll. Somehow, going around him to bind the remaining exposed part of his torso makes her heart thump louder in her chest, she can feel him watch her carefully the whole time she wraps. There's nothing to pay this much attention about, but perhaps telling herself that him being half-passed out in the previous incident makes Leon want to watch.

As soon as the last piece of the bandage roll disappears from sight, Vera releases a ragged exhale she hadn't realized she'd been holding in. Her fingers fumble with the strip of cloth, hastily knotting it into place. Despite her efforts to remain calm and collected, she's forced to wipe her palms on the sides of her pants in order to avoid perspiring any further. When she steps back to survey her handiwork, she finds herself unexpectedly proud of what she's accomplished.

But all of a sudden, there's the disorienting realization that the light in the room feels too identical to the stark fluorescent glare of that sewer corridor, that harsh white light reflecting off the industrial walls, making everything seem colder, crueler. Leon looks up at her, his blue eyes catching the dim light, and something about the way he meets her gaze—exhausted but steady—pulls her back to a memory she’s been trying to suppress since they got here. But it surfaces anyway, vivid and unrelenting, and she feels the shame bloom in her chest, hot and aching like a stab wound.

The sewers had been a nightmare—cold, wet, and stinking of decay. The walls seemed like they were closing in around her after Leon had dropped down like a puppet with cut strings, every echo amplifying the fear that they wouldn’t make it out. Leon had taken the hit, and she’d dragged him to an alcove, her heart pounding as his weight slumped heavily against her. Blood soaked through his shirt, warm and slick beneath her fingers as she fumbled for anything in her pack that could help. Her hands were shaking, the supplies meager—a few bandages, a roll of gauze, and some painkillers that she couldn’t get him to swallow properly.

His breaths were shallow, each one rattling in his chest, and his face was pale, bloodless, his eyelashes fluttering weakly against his cheeks. Vera wouldn't be able to remember with a gun to her head what she did to keep him alive. It was all a blur. She knew she just begged and begged, tears streaming down her face as she gripped Leon's collar, tugging frantically on the fabric with sticky, wet hands as she worked--saline, gauze, bandages, everything in that damn med kit--willing him to hold on. Stay with me, come on, please just stay awake... don't die. Please, just, don't leave me behind.

She almost lost him there in that narrow, foul-smelling alcove, his blood spilled across the filthy concrete floor, and the sheer terror of that possibility had left her trembling like a newborn deer in the aftermath of patching him up. She doesn’t remember when exactly she started crying—if she even stopped at all. She can only recall Leon lying there, unconscious but breathing, as she wept over him with hands that were used to creation rather than healing, wiping the blood away as best she could. Then her fingers came away dry and stained with dirt, and the hysteria subsided into a numb sort of helplessness, exhaustion settling deep into her bones.

Slowly, cautiously, Vera had placed two shaking fingers under Leon's nose—just checking to see if he was breathing, that was all—and his breath tickled against her skin, warm and real. That sensation became all she could focus on for what felt like a lifetime, the rise and fall of his chest confirming he was alive, the physical proof that he hadn’t slipped away from her.

She remembered just stroking the hair of this stranger as if petting something delicate and precious, tracing the curve of his cheek with trembling fingertips before tucking a strand of golden blond locks back behind his ear, brushing the tender shell of it. Like she'd known him for more than a day. It had frightened her how deeply the sight of him laying there bleeding affected her—to know someone she cared about was hurting and know she didn't know why. It wasn't even just the pain radiating from his shoulder where he was wounded—something more personal, deeper, cutting to her very core. She found herself overwhelmed, wanting nothing more than to protect him, take care of him, and maybe indulge in wanting to feel that he was alive. She felt more at peace holding on to this man who was little more than a stranger, than she'd felt in weeks.

That scared her, made her anxious, afraid of feeling weak and vulnerable. She tried to bury it under denial. Tried to justify the momentary lapse in judgement, whatever strange comfort she had gotten by doing that. Told herself it was the adrenaline, the panic, and the pressure she was facing. She had to believe it, or else lose her mind, lose her grasp on reality in the chaos, lose her drive and conviction to survive and get through the nightmare.

But, as soon as his eyes blinked open, the world seemed to hold its breath. It was like everything had frozen—suspended in that fragile space between unconsciousness and awareness, where her hope had spilled through like a broken dam. The harsh sounds of the sewers—the dripping water, the distant, guttural growls of whatever monsters lurked in the dark—they all faded into nothingness. All she could focus on was Leon, his soft, disoriented eyes locking onto hers, as if she was the only anchor in a world gone mad.

Before he could even say anything, her hand found his face, cupping his cheek with a tenderness that surprised her, feeling the texture of his skin beneath the pads of her fingers, the subtle warmth of his body heat, the slight bristle of stubble along his soft jaw. For the briefest of moments, she stroked his cheekbone with her thumb, letting the pathetic sigh of relief escape her parted lips. This man was alive. He was here with her. And they were going to make it through this together.

And then he reached up, covered her hand with his own, giving it a gentle squeeze. Such a simple, meaningless gesture meant to reassure—his grip weak, but solid. His fingers trembling against hers as if seeking an anchor in the storm raging around them both. Maybe he felt that, too—that odd kinship forming between them. That same fierce determination to survive no matter the cost.

There was no thought to the action that followed, only a desperate desire to feel something real in the midst of her panic. Without hesitating, she bent forward, closed her shaking lips against his, and tasted salt and copper on his mouth, the tiniest of noises escaping her. There was the fluttering movement of his blinking eyes tickling the apex of her cheeks, but before he could respond in any way, she pulled back abruptly, realizing what she'd done, mortified by her reckless impulse. Her heart hammered wildly in her chest like a trapped hummingbird, wings beating a frenzied rhythm that threatened to burst through her ribcage. How could she be so careless? So stupid? She didn't even know him, yet somehow, without warning, she...

"Sorry," she muttered lamely, looking around feverishly. "I'm sorry, it's just— I'm—"

But she couldn’t bring herself to finish. Because the truth—that she was relieved, grateful, terrified, angry, tired, confused, all at once—was far too complex a concept for such a feeble apology. A thousand things hovered at the tip of her tongue, but none of them could be expressed verbally.

"Hey," he croaked, his face pale, blood seeping through the layers of gauze as he attempted to reach for her again. He looked concerned, almost worried. She hated the way he seemed to always put her before himself; it made her chest hurt to think about.

"Don't," she whispered softly, grabbing his hand with hers before lowering it gingerly against his side. She watched him wince at the contact, clearly trying hard to mask his discomfort. It pained her to see him like so. "I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry—you scared the shit out of me, and... I dunno, my emotions were all over the place, but I swear I'm not that kinda person—"

"Vera." His low rumble caused her to pause, her heart fluttering a bit inside her chest. No one said her name quite like him, the way it rolled off his tongue, smooth and warm. "It's okay."

That simple statement caught her completely off guard, the sincerity of it catching her completely off guard, freezing her in place, rendering her unable to breathe, let alone speak. Instead, she gawked at him like a deer in the headlights, dumbfounded. But it was true—he had forgiven her in an instant, the moment she kissed him. At least, he seemed to have no qualms with it now. Although, given everything they'd been through, maybe she shouldn't have been surprised.

He sat upright, grimacing at the pull of his wounds. With trembling fingers, she brushed aside a lock of damp hair plastered across his forehead, and realized she shouldn't have simultaneously. It was weird to touch someone she got to know that same day so casually like this. And he was letting her.

"Let's just forget about it, okay?" he continued, sounding earnest enough. It gave her a twinge of guilt. He would never fully understand how much she regretted kissing him.

"...yeah, let's do that," she breathed.

And that had been it.

Though, through everything that came next in the sewers and the NEST, she was sure as hell thinking about it whenever her traitorous mind allowed her to rest for even a short minute.

And now, in this dingy motel room, under the same lighting and re-bandaged, Leon in the flesh, living, breathing, existing before her very own two weary, sunken-in purple rimmed-eyes, it's nearly impossible for Vera's mind to settle down.

It's disgust, she realizes. At herself.

Disgust that she let herself get swept away by the emotional trauma of that moment to the point where it compelled her into kissing someone. Some guy she met a few hours prior. A rookie cop she doesn't even know or love in the aftermath of so much loss. Having trouble coming to terms with what's happened to her hometown and family, the desperation to fill that hole she feels eating away at her soul with something else to ease the pain was disgusting. Trying to distract herself, taking advantage of somebody who needed help instead of being there for him, who trusted her to help him.

Vera suddenly can't bring herself to look directly at him anymore, her stare stuck on the bandages wrapping around his ribs. Her face burns with shame. God, he probably hates her and is too polite to tell her to fuck off. She's disgusted that she thinks he may tolerate her because he cares, and the mere idea makes bile rise in her throat, she wants to run and hide.

Instead, she busies herself with gathering the wrappings scattered on the ground, stuffing them hastily into the nearest garbage bin. "Sweater's over there. Hope it fits." She tilts her head toward the bed where the black sweater rests atop a pillow.

To her surprise, she hears the springs groan behind her, signalling him getting up. His footsteps creak quietly across the old wooden panels. There's the rustle of plastic as he retrieves his new sweater. Then the quiet whoosh of fabric against skin, followed by the faint hiss of discomfort that betrays just how much pain he's still in.

"Hey, uh," he says softly after a pause. "Sorry to ask for help after you did all that, but. Could you...?"

Of course. He can't fucking lift his left arm. What was she thinking dismissing him like that?

Tossing the ball of wrappers into the trash bin beside the table, she turns around and walks over to the bed he's sitting on the edge of. His hands are folded neatly between his knees, back hunched and shoulders curved inward. There's something raw about him right now, laid bare in front of her, stripped down to nothing but nerves frayed by exhaustion. The sweater is crumpled in his grip, pooling onto the floor like melted wax. Her slipping between his spread legs is innocent enough, she takes the sweater, helping him slip in one arm at a time, careful that he isn't raising his arms. Once over his head, Vera smoothes out the wrinkles as best she can.

"Thanks," he whispers, rubbing nervously at his nape. The top of his head reaches her shoulder level and Vera has the urge to poke the whorl of pale brown hair atop it just to mess with him, but resists. Just.

"How are you feeling?" Vera asks. Her stomach growls and they both freeze in place. A hot flush warms her cheeks.

"You didn't eat?" Leon points out. Righteous indignation begins bubbling up inside her. Of course, he'd focus on her instead.

Vera sighs wearily and plops herself down next to him on the bed, dropping her head into her hands. "Didn't have the apetite."

The mattress creaks as he shifts position, moving closer to her side, their elbows brushing. She keeps her hands firmly covering her face. That's the only thing keeping her away from being perceived.

"Look," Leon says softly. His fingers wrap delicately around her wrist, pulling it gently away from her face. Reluctantly, she looks up. Staring directly ahead at her own reflection in the mirror across the room, she can just glimpse his shadowy form perched on the bed. It's far enough so that her features are indistinct, hidden behind a curtain of messy hair, but clear enough that she can still discern his intent stare burning holes into her. "I know tonight hasn't been easy for either of us. You've dealt with a lot..." He pauses, as if uncertain how to continue. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

She scoffs under her breath--it seems ludicrous for him to worry about her, of all people. But then she catches his frown in the mirror, eyebrows drawn together in concern, and the snarky retort dies in her throat. For a moment, they sit in silence, neither one daring to move lest they disturb this precarious stalemate.

"I don't think I ever want to," she finally confesses after what feels like an eternity has passed. Her shoulders slump forward, muscles aching from strain as all strength leaves her. Exhaustion weighs heavily upon every fiber of her being, bones growing heavier by the second. "It's all fucked. Everything."

A deep ache settles somewhere deep within her gut, gnarls coiling tightly around her innards until she can scarcely breathe. Something sharp stings her nose and stifles her throat; she quickly blinks furiously to blink away unshed tears before he notices. She swallows thickly and looks away, willing the emotion away, afraid that any second now she'll dissolve entirely into sobs.

"Yeah," Leon murmurs quietly, sounding almost lost, drifting away from their shared moment of honesty, leaving her adrift in unfamiliar territory. A part of her is terrified by his vulnerability, fearful that something within him has snapped irreparably after enduring hell, that maybe he really won't be able to come back from it. Perhaps he won't recover from his own traumas even after making it out alive. Another, much larger, part wants desperately to reach out, cling tight, anchor them both firmly in this new reality—together. To fight tooth and nail against this insurmountable darkness bearing down on them. "Me neither."

Her hands fidget in her lap, fingers twisting anxiously into knots. She's tempted to place a comforting touch, just to reassure him, but restrains herself. This isn't some clichéd drama-romance movie where everything will work out perfectly fine when the main protagonists decide to get together and live happily ever after.

"Can I..." he starts, hesitates, glancing at her for a fraction of a heartbeat before turning away again. "Is it alright if... Can I ask you something?" His posture grows rigid, stiffening as if preparing himself for rejection, awaiting her inevitable response.

Vera's eyebrows knit together, confusion flickering briefly across her face. Despite her fatigue, she sits up straighter, peering curiously over at Leon, who continues staring resolutely straight ahead. His shoulders seem drawn tight beneath his clothes, fists clenched tightly at his sides as though expecting something terrible. But whatever fears plague his thoughts remain unknown.

Her curiosity grows stronger by the second, prodding at her to answer despite knowing full well this conversation might lead nowhere productive. But she does anyway. "What is it?"

For several long seconds, nothing happens except for silence hanging heavily in the space between them, weighing like stones wrapped around her feet dangling over a body of water, crushing down upon their already fraying spirits. Then he exhales audibly through his nose, releasing pent-up energy built up within him.

"Why did you do it?" He breathes quietly, his question echoing loudly within her mind until Vera finds herself paralyzed.

The memory of what she thinks he's referring to replays itself vividly in front of her; lips pressed together in a ghostly parody, lingering sensations sending shivers through her body as though experiencing it again. Her mouth opens but no sound emerges, unable to form coherent responses while caught in the wake of the memory.

"The kiss, I mean," he elaborates quietly without missing a beat, like reading her mind. "I thought you might want to talk about that, at least."

Just talking. About the kiss. Like they're not actually addressing the real issue underlying this whole thing--but maybe that was the point. Was this something friends could even discuss comfortably? It didn't seem likely, especially considering how nervous Leon appeared when asking this question aloud. And it wouldn't make sense for him to try avoiding what happened outright in order to prevent further awkwardness... Unless, of course, he knew better than she did exactly what she needed. Either way, whether intentional or not, she appreciates having a distraction to focus on besides wallowing in self-pity.

"I guess so." Her palms sweat a little. "If... if you need answers, yeah."

The sentence sounds clumsy and unnatural, like an afterthought thrown out as a last resort to convince herself everything'll be okay. But judging by the way his features light up marginally when nodding reassuringly at her makes her think it works well enough.

So she forces herself to relax against the cheap mattress below them, hoping her hands aren't trembling as visibly as she fears they might be. She inhales deeply, ignoring how shallow her lungs feel while filling with oxygen, holding it close before allowing herself to let go slowly. "I don't know why I did it. I just went for it. And I wish I hadn't." The admission hangs in the stale, motel-room-quality scent, and Vera winces internally at how stupid and cowardly that probably sounded.

She steals another glance toward him; his head tilts sideways as he contemplates her comment, a bit disappointed perhaps but more pensive than anything else, seemingly mulling over her response carefully before speaking once more.

"Because I wasn't expecting it. At all," he admits softly, turning his head towards hers, the warmth in his blue irises striking something within her core. "Even in a world without zombies crawling around. Wouldn't've thought you'd... want me in that way."

His shy grin sets butterflies loose inside her chest. She bites her lip as those winged creatures flap frantically against her rib cage, threatening to escape if she opens her mouth too wide. "You're great at distracting me," Vera deflects lamely. When he chuckles lightly beneath his breath at her flattery attempt, she cracks a tentative smile. "This is really working to make me feel lighter."

His features soften almost imperceptibly at her quip, although he retains that amused edge to his grin even after breaking into quiet laughter. "Glad to hear it," he says easily, flashing adorably crooked teeth in a tired smile, looking pleased despite himself. A pleasant rush flutters within Vera's veins like alcohol flowing freely throughout her body as she watches him. "To be honest..." He clears his throat awkwardly, causing her stomach to flip at the possibilities behind what he may reveal next. "I liked it. I really did."

A rush of blood fills Vera's cheeks, heating them until they burn bright crimson underneath his intense stare. Suddenly unable to meet his brilliant blue-eyed regard any longer, she glances downward at the sheets lying crumpled in the space between them instead.

"...really?"

"That's fucked up, isn't it?" Leon laughs bitterly, sounding ashamed as if confessing some terrible sin rather than admitting he enjoyed the way a girl threw herself at him after risking death. "Makes me feel horrible. Knowing everything we witnessed today."

"Imagine how worse it is for the initiating party," Vera mutters dryly and regrets opening her mouth instantly when he flinches away from her bluntness. But it wasn't intended to hurt him, only to break some of the gloomy mood and keep them from getting sucked back into despair. "I mean, there's nothing wrong with enjoying it," she hastily adds, reaching out for his hand without thinking. "Or wanting to forget about your trauma. Even if just for one moment."

Leon blinks owlishly, caught completely off guard by her sudden earnestness. "That's the case for you?" he echoes. She nods solemnly. His grip tightens on hers, giving her courage enough to continue.

"It was impulse for me. But if I were given the chance, I would have wanted to experience something good for once that night," Vera mumbles. Heat rises in her cheeks again as embarrassment takes hold, knowing she probably made him uncomfortable with such a bold confession. "So, there's nothing wrong with you."

Leon grunts noncommittally, seemingly unconvinced yet unwilling to argue any longer. So they sit together silently side by side, observing each other from across the mattress until they eventually relax somewhat against its creaky support system, sharing an oddly companionable silence despite all that transpired during the events following. Until, finally, Vera breaks it first.

"And I would have done it if tonight never happened and you were just the new guy at RPD, too." She leans towards him so that her knee bumps against his thigh. She nudges him playfully. It feels good trying to cheer him up. Confessing doesn't feel half as bad like this. "I was literally dying to ask you out on a date."

He responds with another tired laugh which brings about an instantaneous grin plastered onto Vera's face. She giggles as well, relieved beyond belief that her attempts at lightening up the atmosphere appear successful thus far, if not completely dispelling altogether.

"That's not true," he huffs through another chuckle.

"What?" she snorts. "Don't believe me?"

"You wouldn't have bothered, I'm sure," he muses lightly.

"Well... You are cute, so..." Vera shrugs. She ignores the heat climbing up her neck, fighting not to blush any harder than she already is, especially after seeing the smirk tugging at his lips. "Kind, considerate, pretty—"

"—green to get anywhere—"

"—determined, thoughtful—"

"Okay," he stops her gently. Her heart pounds furiously against her rib cage at how soft his features turn. He smiles sweetly as his thumb rubs tiny circles along the back of her palm. It sends a jolt through Vera's system. "You made your point."

Despite his bashfulness, Vera cannot deny that the redness staining his cheeks is endearing in its own way.

"Just saying I would have snatched you up when I had the chance." She bites back the urge to say something cheesy about stealing him now. Instead, she settles for leaning forward, poking his chest with her finger. "You're too nice to not take advantage of, officer."

In spite of the poor lighting surrounding them, Vera catches the way he rolls his beautiful eyes skyward. Still, the teasing has a positive effect—he remains smiling, albeit sheepishly. "No guy would feel good about being told they're easy, you know."

"I love to chase if you're into that," she returns shamelessly, earning a shocked laugh from the man beside her. The sound reverberates within her chest, warming something deep inside her guts. She likes the sound of that. "I would have bought you flowers, too."

"Really?" he drawls sarcastically. When Vera gives an enthusiastic nod accompanied by an innocent grin, Leon groans audibly and covers his face with both palms. The gesture fails miserably to hide how much brighter those blue eyes shine behind the cracks of his fingers. She can practically see him imagining her buying him bouquets galore.

"Yeah!" she affirms brightly. If her flirting borders on ridiculous at this point, neither one seems capable enough of caring right now. "I'll have you know I'm one hell of a lover."

"Sure," he teases. This time, a genuine grin stretches wide across his handsome face. There is no hiding the rosy hue tinting those perfect cheekbones either, however hard he might try—not that Vera plans on letting up anytime soon. Not when they are having fun. Not when it helps him forget the pain throbbing throughout his body.

"Honest. Flowers everywhere. Heart shaped chocolates, candle-lit dinner dates—" She pauses briefly, considering for a beat. Yeah, no. She isn't making it weird by sexualization. "—fluffy little puppies waiting outside your apartment complex with leashes in their mouths."

"All at once?"

"Everything at the same time," Vera confirms without skipping a beat. "You have no idea what these hands are capable of."

He coughs loudly, catching his breath abruptly. Maybe he choked on his saliva? "Wh—" Another cough interrupts his stuttering, he looks startled, turning even more crimson than before.

She laughs at him, watching his flustered state intently. When she recovers sufficiently to calm down enough to respond properly, she notices Leon regarding her curiously, his head tilted at an angle so that his golden locks fall over his brow attractively. And then suddenly she realizes just how close they've gravitated towards one another while laughing, nearly cheek-to-cheek as if drawn irresistibly closer by some unseen force; close enough for Vera to smell the soap sticking stubbornly to his skin from the quick shower earlier. He smells sweet and citrusy—a faint trace of mint lingering around his neck where tendrils of damp hair curl loosely.

She turns away quickly, embarrassed. Maybe this is enough distracting, she decides firmly to herself. This bubble of intimacy is dangerously enticing and threatening to burst at any moment should they continue dancing around whatever this strange pull between them is. Because right now, all she wants to do is lean forward and bury her nose against Leon's skin, hide her burning face in the hollow of his throat and feel warm and safe with him forevermore.

But then again, this might be exactly why they must stop their silly banter. To avoid creating false promises between themselves under dire circumstances. All they were connected by was this strange bond forged from the same hell they were subjected to. They weren't friends or lovers or anything else. Just partners brought together temporarily by fate and circumstance. Bound to separate after finding safety, when the world around them calms down and there wasn't really any reason anymore for either of them staying by each other's side. The more she ponders that grim prospect, however, the faster her heart rate climbs until she feels sick inside.

"What was it that you said?" Leon whispers, all of a sudden too serious for her liking. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to forget your trauma." He hums thoughtfully, reaching to gently brush back a strand of black locks falling across her cheek. His fingertips linger longer than necessary; Vera hates how wonderful it feels being touched. "Maybe it wouldn't hurt to indulge just this once?"

It sounded innocuous enough coming from him, uttered almost shyly into the stillness surrounding them. Yet something within those three simple sentences resonates within her very soul nonetheless—something intimate shared exclusively between two individuals lost in darkness seeking solace in familiar territory. A longing building within their chests for human contact... Something gentle, comforting, grounding. A temporary shelter provided freely without strings attached nor conditions placed. No obligations owed on either ends, merely allowing each other to breathe easily for the time being as their demons retreat momentarily back into shadowy corners of their minds.

Vera blinks owlishly, stunned momentarily by his candid admission. As he retracts his hand, however, and leaves the spot tingling from his tender caress empty, she finds herself wishing for more. She has to bite down hard on her bottom lip to keep herself still when Leon scoots even closer and wraps one arm tentatively around her waist. She doesn't even register leaning in automatically until her forehead bumps against his collarbone, resting atop it lightly. Then something clicks inside Vera's brain; a spark igniting deep within her gut as she surrenders willingly to his embrace without hesitation or resistance. An involuntary gasp escapes her when a warm hand settles upon the small of her back, applying slight pressure to pull her forward eagerly into him again. "Oh. Okay."

Their bodies meld perfectly against one another. Her chest burns white hot wherever they touch—the planes of his muscles brushing lightly against her breast bone where it lies pressed against his torso. His breathing tickles against her nape, causing goosebumps along her neck and downwards. But above everything else, something within Vera seems to relax instantly, melting away whatever lingering apprehension held previously onto her heart.

"Fuck," she sighs contentedly. His arms tighten around her briefly, encouraging her further into his embrace, leaving little room left for her mind to wander aimlessly elsewhere except here—exactly where it belongs. How long has she dreamt about something like this? Having someone to cling onto desperately, seeking out affection beyond mere platonic friendship. It's been so damn long since anyone touched her so tenderly.

"You doing okay?" he mumbles quietly.

"...yeah." A tremulous smile curves upwards her lips despite herself. She allows her eyelids shut close while listening closely to their joined breathing synchronizing, reveling in how much thinner than him she feels tucked safely against his broad form. A sense of security fills Vera as though enveloped within thick blankets during winter days.

"Good." His breath ruffles against the hair at her temple; she shivers involuntarily at the sensation of the cool exhale caressing heated skin. "Because I could actually sleep like this if we tried."

She cracks an eyelid open halfway and peers up curiously past dark lashes to find Leon grinning boyishly, all traces of earlier awkwardness apparently dissipated into thinning fog. He stares intensely back into her widened pupils before dropping his chin down onto top her head again—

"I think we could arrange that," she manages to croak out somehow, the idea so pleasant to think about.

Somehow, falling asleep in his cozy presence makes it feel like no nightmares would find her tonight. Like maybe this whole mess isn't as hopeless as she imagined. That perhaps she won't be haunted constantly by dead children crying for parents lost to monsters, or corpses shambling forth seeking flesh, or faces twisted into unspeakable abominations tearing at her limbs with sharp fangs ripping apart skin. Or her father.

She doesn't want to move her arms to nudge him, so making their bodies rock together slightly is the next best thing. And that's enough cue for Leon to start backing up against the headboard, taking her along for the ride, dragging both legs underneath the bedspread. The fabric pulls out from under them as they slide backwards until fully cocooned inside the comforter's fluffy interior. When she twists a bit to get comfortable, a pillow falls on her face. She swats blindly at the offending object, accidentally punching Leon square in the chest instead. The resounding grunt draws a sheepish giggle from somewhere within Vera. She moves accordingly until she's on her side and facing Leon; who shifts until they're forehead to forehead like children telling stories in their beds late at night, staring intently into each other's curious expressions.

"This okay?" Leon breathes softly. She can smell peppermint from his toothpaste mixed with antiseptic wash. His breath ghosts over her parted lips, causing them to tingle pleasantly from his proximity, bringing heat to bloom beneath her cheeks. He seems satisfied with her answering nod, giving one himself.

A brief silence hangs between them, neither daring speak just yet, lest it disturb the delicate balance between them now settled comfortably on its axis. Eventually though, Leon reaches upwards, wrapping an arm around Vera's shoulders gingerly and pulling her closer into him, resting her head on his collarbone. It scratches an elusive itch, dissolving it into words that read, Ah, I wanted to be held, after all.

And sleep hits Vera like a ton of bricks once she relaxes against him. Even through the haze, she doesn't miss how gentle he's being—his grasp loose enough for escape should she change her mind later on, yet secure enough that it won't break away unless intended. With the rest of Raccoon City in ruins beyond those stained motel walls, it feels almost sacrilegious to accept comfort like this while so many others suffer unimaginable terrors. But she does anyway. Letting go would be too difficult otherwise, when she wants to cling tight and stay here forever wrapped up in his scent, encased within his protective hold where no harm will come her way. Just clinging to this bit of sanity for dear life until morning comes, when reality awaits to end all possibilities for their futures, and they perhaps part ways for good—but not tonight.

Tonight, everything exists solely within these four walls where there isn't anything worth mentioning but the steady pounding beneath Leon's ribcage pressed against Vera's ear. A faint rhythmic melody drumming softly amidst chaos itself, reminding her that right now, they're still alive... Allowed to be human again for a while longer yet.

#this won't make sense if you don't read “no time to die”#leon kennedy x oc #leon s kennedy x oc #resident evil oc #era: no time to die #leon kennedy

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mandalhoerian · 2 months ago

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All Costumes/Skins for VERA KAPLAN in Resident Evil 2 (2019) . . .

designed in this picrew!

DEFAULT

🛠 mechanic | 🎸 rockstar

🎞 noir | 📇 original 1998

#resident evil oc #leon kennedy x oc #leon s kennedy x oc #og 1998 rocking the ms. bellum is so important 2 me she's so mysterious #ppl who read the finale know why its so diabolical that i put a knife there #also! original 1998 concept is so fun to think about #because “default” vera is remake vera. og 1998 being WILDLY different and their need to change that means she got the wesker treatment #and by that i mean she came back differently #and maybe the devs needed to compensate for that and bridge the later character shown in other games to match what she started out as #SO FUN TO THINK ABOUT !!!! SO FUN #oc: vera kaplan #and now that re2 era is over i get to think abt later designs for her!!! i hate it here im NOT an artist 😭#era: no time to die

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mandalhoerian · 2 months ago

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GRAVEDIGGER act i: no time to die leon kennedy x oc

#it starting with color and eding in black and white is my roman empire #jurrassic world dinosaur left behind with vera has been rotting in my head for MONTHS im so happy to be sharing it #also the anguish painting representing her and marvin. to this day. TO THIS DAY #leon kennedy x oc #leon s kennedy x oc #resident evil oc #story: gravedigger #era: no time to die #oc: vera kaplan #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #the first song is kaleidoscope by flower face and the second is ptolomaea by ethel cain

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mandalhoerian · 2 months ago

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NO TIME TO DIE | leon kennedy x oc | 12 (finale)

pairing: leon s. kennedy x oc word count: no warnings: graphic descriptions of gore and violence, major character death... or is it? chapter summary: Leon, Vera and Claire navigate the dangers of NEST, facing shocking revelations, betrayals, and impossible choices as they race against time to complete their missions. note: here we are at the end and im so sorry it took this long... 😭 chapter is legit sponsored by @/bnnuyko's game screenshots they were SO HELPFUL!!!! READ ON AO3 ! ☆ NO TIME TO DIE MASTERPOST

The cable car rattled with a low, metallic groan as it approached its destination, the dim interior lights flickering in sporadic bursts. Leon stood near the viewport, his hand resting against the console of controls, hypnotized by the gradual emergence of the facility ahead—NEST. The platform came into view, illuminated in harsh, sterile light that reflected starkly off the dark steel surfaces below, cold and industrial, truly an extension of the sewer system's architecture.

The journey had passed in silence, an unsettling kind of stillness. Vera sat beside Ada on the bench affixed to the wall of the car, her head leaned back, eyes closed, music pulsing through her headphones—loud enough that Leon could catch the distant rhythm of some rock song even from where he stood. She had withdrawn into herself, creating a boundary as tangible as the steel surrounding them. Leon couldn’t quite make sense of it. They had a mission—one with no room for hesitation or misgivings. The G-Virus, for Ada, for the FBI. It seemed straightforward. But this didn't mean he was deprioritizing reuniting with Claire and Sherry. He had to believe they could accomplish it all; anything less was simply unacceptable.

The cable car jerked slightly, and Leon adjusted his stance, his fingers tightening instinctively around the safety rail.

“Now arriving at NEST,” announced the dispassionate mechanical voice, shattering the silence.

Leon cast a brief look at Vera as Ada, seated next to her, reached over and nudged her shoulder. Vera’s eyes fluttered open, vacant for a moment before narrowing as she gained focus. She slipped the headphones off in a jerky, almost reluctant tug, as though pulling herself from a place she didn’t want to leave. Ada leaned closer, her hand still resting on Vera’s arm, her face set, brows knit together in a way that conveyed a certain stern, but gentle warning without words.

Ada’s lips moved and Leon didn't hear any of it, her posture communicating the weight of her message—a slight forward lean, her head angled just enough that her intent was clear. She wasn’t asking; she was directing, leaning in, fingers tightening subtly on Vera's arm, demanding acknowledgment from her avoidance. Vera gave her flitting glances that darted left and right from the point they focused on the ground, her jaw setting with a flash of defiance before it softened.

Leon stepped forward, frowning, his instincts prickling. “Hey, what are you—”

Vera’s head turned sharply, her hand rising, a silent command to halt. Her gaze, now on Leon, was flat, as though the connection between them had thinned to a fragile thread.

“Wait outside,” she said, clipped, as if dismissing any objection before it could be voiced. She kept her eyes on Ada, almost mechanical in its detachment. Almost avoiding Leon. “We won't be long, I just... I just need a moment with her. From an informant to an FBI agent. Privacy needed. You know."

Leon didn't understand why that could be a reason to single him out when she'd told him everything, but decided not to make a fuss out of it in the end, finding no logic to disagree with her. So he simply backed out of the cable car, looking between the two ladies before stepping into the unknown waiting for him, a shudder running down his spine upon realizing Vera's full storm-eyed attention was still fixed on Ada and didn't leave her even after the door slid close.

The doors closed behind him with a hydraulic hiss, sealing him off from the conversation inside. Leon stood there, the platform stretching before him, its emptiness accentuated by the cold, sterile lighting. He cast a glance back at the sealed door, unease still gnawing at the edges of his thoughts. For a moment, he closed his eyes, letting the cold subterranean air wash over him, the chill biting at his exposed skin. He reached out, gripping the metal bar of the stairwell ahead, eyes trailing down the corridor that extended into darkness—its length marked by sporadic, overhead lights and shadows pooling in the spaces between. The darkness stretched endlessly, a void hinting at unseen depths below, evoking a primal unease that seemed to bounce back at him from beneath the surface.

Stacks of crates lined the walkway ahead, their contents hidden beneath thick, dust-covered tarps. Leon’s grip tightened on the railing as he descended, his boots clanging against the metal steps lined with yellow warning paint, but safety was a distant memory now—a laughable concept in the face of what they had endured.

Instead of letting the silence allow him to fill it with unnecessary doubts, he decided to use that opportunity to inform Claire they had arrived to the laboratory. He sat down on the last step, took out his radio, adjusting the strap of the leather utility belt keeping his flashlight and the pouch of his tools from falling as he put weight on his other foot, careful with the movement lest he slips down the narrow stairs, and switched the channel, hearing the static hiss of white noise coming through on the other end of the transmission, "Claire? Are you there? Come in."

Pressed against the microphone, his fingers curled around the pink device, "Come on," he breathed, and held it to his ear as he waited for an answer. "Please, pick up."

"...here, le—ou ca— me?"

The connection was a bit weak, but it was clear enough, if the frantic voice shouting on the other end was any indicator.

"Claire," he raised his voice in the hope he'd be loud and clear enough for her to hear.

"Leon! Can you —me? Is that you?"

"I'm here. Don't worry," he reassured her, as fast as he could go in fear of losing the signal before she hung up. "Just thought you'd like to know we're here at The NEST."

The muffled sounds on the other side of the transmission, hiss after hiss, sputtered out from the other end of the connection and then crackled louder. "What? Are you i—ane!"

He frowned in response, pressing the device harder against his head to increase the volume. "You're cutting out!"

The distorted echo of her voice made her sound farther away from the communicator, yet her anger remained. "I told you not to follow us!"

"Nevermind that right now, how's Sherry? Was Annette able to cure her?"

"I—" she made a noise that suggested she was biting her lip in frustration. "I'm working on synthesizing the vaccine right now. The labs are big and everyone who's been stuck here has turned, it's taking time."

The anxiety over his promise he'd help Ada with the G-Virus evaporated into thin air, replaced by the thought of Claire, still adamantly helping the little girl who clung to her like a lifeline, being on her own in this place. "Where exactly are you? We'll meet you there. Maybe together we can finish this faster."

"Annette will kill you on the spot if she sees you. Both of you."

"I don't care," Leon retorted, steelier than before. "She can try. I am getting that G-virus and arresting her. She needs to pay for what she's done."

Claire didn't reply to that, letting silence speak in favor of her opinion on the topic, but when she spoke again, it was less hostile and more conciliatory. "At least wait until I have the vaccine ready, okay? For Sherry's sake."

That managed to make him reconsider and think twice. He had to admit, the little girl was his biggest concern aside from helping Ada and saving innocent civilian lives, especially because she was young, vulnerable, and completely powerless in all of this. Her safety mattered more than anything else to him at this moment in time, and he felt his resolve waver as Claire appealed to it, unable to refuse. "Okay. We'll steer clear of Annette. No need to involve ourselves unless it's strictly necessary."

"Thank you. For not being a total idiot about this. Sherry's in the Security Room to the left when you enter the lab, you can't miss it. Give her a visit, her condition's really bad, maybe it'll help her somehow."

"Yeah, got it," he swallowed, "Don't worry about us and focus on what you're doing."

"Stay safe, Leon."

She hung up without waiting for his answer, leaving Leon holding the pink walkie talkie with his arm limply hanging over his knee. He let out a long suffering sigh and dropped his shoulders, standing up from the step has sitting on, adjusting the bandage wrapping his shoulder where Annette had shot him.

At least they were finally at The NEST. One goal down.

His body screamed at him to take a rest and stop for a minute, and his limbs followed accordingly. They burned like fire, muscles aching from the strain after hours of exertion and fighting, and he wished nothing more than to get some painkillers into his body to ease up the soreness.

"Gotta stay vigilant, come on..." he muttered to himself, shaking himself awake as he felt like slumping against the railing to nap, rubbing at his eyelids and feeling the wet streaks of sweat mixed grime sliding off his forehead. Gross.

Fucking gross.

He reached for his gun and reloaded it while thinking up of potential scenarios to expect once they crossed the walkway ahead to confront whatever came their way. That got his heart beating faster, the familiar rush of adrenaline kicking in that urged him to fight for his life despite all exhaustion. This is what kept him alive so far.

Well, mostly.

Leon twisted the knob on the walkie-talkie until the static dissolved into silence. His hand lingered there for a moment, gripping the device as though the connection to Claire could somehow tether his scattered thoughts. He finally clipped it to his belt with a sharp click and turned, scanning the empty platform. The faint vibration of machinery in the distance and the soft rumble of the cable car behind him filled the quiet.

Vera stepped out, her boots striking the platform in sharp, angry pats as she skipped down the stairs, but there was no Ada who followed, she was staying behind to wait for them. There was a distinct agitation in Vera's stride that made her appear restless, uneasy, her gait lacking the characteristic confidence that usually propelled her forward. The stiff set of her shoulders and the quick tempo of her feet echoed the intensity of her displeasure. She walked toward Leon without hesitation but maintained a distance from him—her demeanor becoming increasingly closed off, aloof in the way her arms dangled loosely at her sides, fists clenched. She slung her bag higher on her shoulder, her head angled slightly downward, hair falling to obscure her face. He noticed that the jacket he'd given her was discarded, probably left behind with Ada, leaving just the ruined and torn pink turtleneck underneath that was missing one sleeve entirely because they had treat and bandage the deep cuts and burns she'd gotten on her left arm while fighting Birkin in the facility underneath RPD. Her bandaged left hand was also more prominent when it wasn't partially swallowed up by his jacket.

“Just talked to Claire,” Leon started, watching as Vera adjusted the strap of her bag. “She said Sherry's resting in the Security Room. It’s not far—just past the reception desk, apparently."

He paused, shifting his weight forward, trying to gauge her reaction. Vera merely tightened her grip on the strap and rolled her neck, the motion jerky and dismissive.

“You could stay with her,” Leon said after swallowing to get rid of his dry mouth. “If Claire could leave her there, it means the place is safe. I’ll handle the rest.”

Vera’s head tilted slightly, and her hand twitched against her bag strap as if readying for a fight. “You’re serious?” she asked, but her flat inflection made it sound more like a statement, almost an accusation, matched by the sharp turn of her shoulders as she stepped closer. “After everything? You think I’m gonna sit in some corner and watch the clock while you risk your life?"

Leon straightened and gestured toward the faint yellow markings leading up the staircase towards the cable car. “I’m trying to make sure you don’t overdo it. You look—” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “—burnt out.”

Vera let out a sharp breath through her nose and dropped her chin, brows furrowing tightly as she lifted the ball of one shoulder in a half shrug. “I was cranky, okay? Low blood sugar, nothing else. I’ve got snacks now.” She patted the side of her bag before resuming that confident pace, this time marching onward down the corridor. She pushed the issue to the side without waiting for his answer, the swiftness in which she dismissed it suggesting that there were other things that occupied her thoughts, perhaps other reasons that lent her the persistent attitude to push forward despite fatigue. Leon caught up quickly, Matilda out, not wanting to use the shotgun in a space that was going to be so tight and enclosed unless it was strictly necessary. “Besides, we’re this far in. You were right—we need to see this through. And I need to document it. That’s why I’m here.”

“You don’t have to prove anything.”

“And you don’t have to keep me out of it,” Vera shot back. “We’re not splitting up. Not here.”

As they advanced through the hallway, Vera fell back, allowing Leon to lead the way, trailing just behind his left shoulder. She was adjusting her digital camera to record the way leading up to the laboratory, turning around momentarily to take in the cable car they were leaving behind. Ahead, the path stretched out, leading into a tunnel that disappeared into an ominous darkness. The yellow caution lines on the floor were more numerous the further along they traveled, then took a right that transitioned into a sleek, metal corridor that was a whiplash from the rough concrete and industrial grime of the previous passageways. The walls, lined with reinforced steel panels, gleamed under the cold, fluorescent lights that ran along the ceiling in harsh, clinical lines. The floor was a grid of grated metal, designed for utility, every step they took reverberating through the empty corridor. A heavy vertical lift door loomed at the end of it, edges marked with bright yellow and black hazard stripes that screamed of danger, surface unmarred except for a small, glowing panel in the center, bathing the surrounding area in an eerie green light.

When the got close enough, the system blared out, "For your safety, stand clear until the doors are fully open."

And then, they completely found themselves in a different world.

"Welcome to NEST. Enjoy your visit."

The reception area was eerily pristine, a chilling juxtaposition against the horrors Leon knew lurked within the facility. The Umbrella Corporation’s logo was emblazoned boldly on the wall behind the curved desk, its clean lines and stark red and white colors radiating a sterile corporate dominance. The bright, white overhead lights hummed softly, casting an even, almost surgical illumination across the room. Their glow reflected sharply off the polished floor, making the bold and thich orange strip running down the center appear unnaturally vibrant, like a trail leading directly into the jaws of the beast. The air felt unnervingly still, carrying the faint trace of sterilizing chemicals, as though the space itself was trying to erase any evidence of human presence.

The reception desk was sleek, modern, and disturbingly untouched, as though the chaos of the outbreak had somehow bypassed this space. A small vase with neatly arranged artificial flowers sat atop the counter, a starkly inappropriate gesture of welcome in such a place. The chair behind the desk was pushed in perfectly, its ergonomic design almost inviting, yet it felt like a mockery of comfort in an environment so steeped in fear.

To the left, a black leather sofa rested against the wall, its surface too immaculate for a place that should have been in frantic disarray. Opposite, the walls were lined with segmented panels, seamless and cold, with the occasional vent hinting at the facility's labyrinthine infrastructure, all the details screamed precision, control, and the calculated efficiency of a corporation that left nothing to chance.

Just next to the sofa, the "SECURITY ROOM" door stood slightly scuffed, the only hint of wear in an otherwise pristine environment. The marks on its surface hinted at hurried movements—perhaps someone desperate to enter or escape—but the heavy frame and solid handle betrayed no sign of having yielded to any panic. Up ahead, a set of metallic double doors labeled "MAIN SHAFT" gleamed under the overhead lighting, their bright blue display panel glowing faintly, almost like an invitation.

He stood there for another moment, his grip on Matilda firm, as though something within him could not shake off the sense of unease despite the welcoming appearance of the front office. Even though he had spent the last hours being chased by undead freaks in filthy, claustrophobic sewer tunnels, exchanging that with a meticulously manicured reception area of a pharmaceutical megacorporation seemed disconcerting—almost surreal.

Then again, they were still very much trapped beneath the city, only now they were stuck beneath what he guessed to be Umbrella's central research facility. His brain struggled to process it. Every fiber of his body had been wound tight to the point of snapping; anticipation coiled inside him like a spring about to pop free. Everything was so quiet.

"Is that where Sherry is?" Vera pointed with the digital camera still held in her good hand towards the direction of the security room.

Leon glanced behind himself and saw where she indicated, then nodded.

She pursed her lips, the lines on her face creasing around her mouth and along the sides of her nose. It was strange how tired she looked despite just having eaten something. Or perhaps it wasn't so strange if they had run miles nonstop while fighting off waves of infected corpses and monsters. She shut the camera with a resounding snap, looking pale but determined as always. He felt his stomach do somersaults upon seeing the slight tremor in her fingers when she gripped the object between two hands before looping its strap around her neck again, adjusting it so it hung loosely in the center of her chest and out of the way of her weapon's muzzle.

Upon entering, they immediately zeroed in on the bed at the far corner of the room, sheets soaked through with dark, congealed blood. On top of it was Sherry, eerily still like a dead body laying on a coroner's examination table, the blinding light fixed on the nook carved into the wall to act like a bookshelf overpowering her entire form, leaving a sinister silhouette that made her look worse than she already was.

Both of them rushed in at the same time, forgetting all caution and everything that tells them danger may be near—they just see a child in need, pale faced and unmoving on a bed that reeked of death. Leon kneeled next to the IV stand and heart monitor beside the bed while Vera sat down on the edge, taking the little girl's small hand in her own.

"Sherry?" she whispered, gently nudging Sherry's side.

She stirred, moaning in discomfort from being disturbed as Leon rubbed her forearm soothingly. Once she cracked one glassy eyed open and stared at both of them hovering over her, Leon silently sighed at one of her eyes being unnaturally bloodshot, veins spidering around the whites and into her skin like tree roots spreading above ground, evidence of infection. Her breathing was erratic, short gasps interrupted by wet wheezes—but at least she was breathing, even if it sounded horrible.

"Hello honey," Vera crooned with tenderness dripping from every syllable. She gave the girl a strained smile. "Don't try to talk, save your energy, okay? We're here now, just wanted to say hello."

There were a million questions swirling in his mind and not enough answers—everything was too complicated, and all of it amounted to one glaring truth: The people responsible for all of this needed to pay. His fists clenched hard against his thigh, knuckles going white with rage. Leon closed his mouth to swallow hard before saying anything else, his throat tight with emotion. "Yeah, we're here for you Sherry."

The kid blinked a couple of times, then turned her attention slowly from Vera to him, studying each of them closely without uttering a single sound or changing her blank face that never lifted an inch to smile back at either of them. Her lack of enthusiasm made Leon feel like shit for failing her; she was a sad sight to behold—a victim of circumstances, someone who deserved better than this and it felt wrong that he couldn't give it to her.

Leon drew in a shaky breath and brushed strands of sticky hair away from her cheek, ignoring how slick it felt, noting that the touch made the young girl flinch briefly. He hoped that maybe the contact would provide comfort, but judging by how she kept staring straight ahead of her, unfocused and hazy eyed, lost in a pain-filled daze, he doubted any kind gestures were doing much to ease her suffering right now.

"Hang in there, alright? We'll make this go away soon," he promised anyway because promises cost him nothing to make and hopefully would bring hope to her instead of lies, offering her his warmest smile.

Without realizing what he was doing, he began brushing circles into Sherry's tiny palm with the pad of his thumb as though comforting a cat, hoping that somehow this gesture might communicate feelings beyond what he could put into actual speech—like comfort and protection. As he continued rubbing patterns across her skin, a strange sense of calm settled over him despite knowing well there's more threats awaiting outside of the security room. For now, making sure Sherry was taken care of meant most to him.

It surprised him when she didn't move away nor flinch again. If anything, she actually leaned into his touch and whimpered weakly. Whether this showed acceptance of his efforts or simple exhaustion from being alone in unfamiliar surroundings, he couldn't tell, but nevertheless felt his stomach twisting painfully from witnessing such a display.

It wasn't fair.

No kid deserved this hell.

"You are so tough," Vera breathed, leaning forward, smoothing away stray hairs falling in front of Sherry's face and gently cupping her cheeks. "Do you know how much strength you have to even endure this?" Her head dipped lower, chin close to resting against the child's forehead as she stared fondly at her. "You got the makings of a champion inside you."

This drew a reaction out of Sherry. One which sent pinpricks down Leon's arms and legs. He knew instinctively there'd been meaning in those mumbled words, hidden depths unspoken. Vera didn't glance in his direction after saying that. Instead, she pressed both palms on Sherry's chest firmly. "Now I want you to focus on getting some rest—I know it's probably too painful to sleep, so I brought you this." She took her headphones away from their place around her neck along with the mp3 player in her shorts' pocket, and shook them a little before Sherry's field of vision. "Would you like to listen to music? I can assure you that music helps, it really does. Do you wanna give it a shot?"

Sherry, despite the exhaustion, looked a tad a bit excited then, a faint light appearing in her eyes at the offer of distracting herself through listening to something positive. Even the faintest indication of life bolstered his hopes. He remained crouched next to the bedside as Vera slipped the headphones over Sherry's ears, using the spare pillow to position her head comfortably in place and switch it on. "This mixtape is my favorite, it's perfect for daydreaming. Do you want me to leave it running on shuffle until we get back? Let the songs take you somewhere fun?"

The little girl shook her head positively, clutching onto Vera's hand with surprising force, and murmured a thank you that sounded like she hadn't spoken in hours. There was nothing else he wished more than for this poor kid to experience something other than pain.

"No problem Sherry," Vera said quietly, patting Sherry's hair lightly with the tip of her fingers. The image made his heart swell with affection as a strange warmth spread within him. This felt oddly domestic.

Music soon started playing and her breathing calmed a bit, settling deeper into the pillows as the song lulled her to rest with its slow melody. He heard Vera sniffle, noticed a few tears dripping down her face, and had to wipe away one of his own to hide evidence of vulnerability. Even if they weren't able to cure her right now, he hoped this helped dull her senses and stop feeling her body rip itself apart, at least temporarily. She deserved peace. They stayed together, holding on to the little girl's hands until Sherry finally seemed more at peace.

"Authorized staff only beyond this point. Guests must refrain from entering.”

Leon let out a sharp exhale through his nose and paced back a step, running a hand across the back of his neck as his gaze darted toward the sealed doors ahead. Vera, standing with her camera slung over one shoulder, tilted her head toward the terminal, her body leaning forward slightly as though daring the screen to change its message. When it didn’t, she sighed and pulled away, her boots scuffing against the pristine floor as she moved back toward the receptionist’s desk.

“Well, that’s just fantastic,” Leon muttered under his breath, biting back another wave of irritation that threatened to spill forth in an angry growl. Behind him, the steady thuds of Vera opening and closing drawers echoed throughout the enclosed space, punctuated occasionally by scrapes and clinks as she sifted through items in search of useful ones. He watched her closely out of the corner of his vision, unable to entirely rid himself of the concern bubbling beneath his surface despite her insistence on accompanying him to the laboratory. "What now? We can't exactly kick the door down. Maybe we should call Claire?"

Vera dropped her hands heavily onto her hips after pushing another drawer closed with a loud bang that vibrated up into his bones, her camera clinking softly as it smacked against her side. She picked up a folder with a slight flick of her wrist, flipping it open and skimming the contents inside before discarding it in favor of rifling through another stack of papers. “We don’t call her yet,” she said finally, sharp but not unkind. "She's running herself ragged down there, trying to save Sherry. And,” Vera added, tapping her knuckles against the desk’s edge as if to punctuate her words, “have a little faith in us. How many locked doors have we gotten through so far?"

Leon made a low sound of approval but didn’t argue further. Instead, he joined her at the desk, crouching slightly as his hands brushed along the computer terminal’s edge. “Alright, genius,” he said, glancing briefly at the monitor as the screen flickered to life, “let’s see what we’re working with.”

The display showed a directory of files and logs, many of them labeled with technical jargon that Leon could only half-decipher. Vera reached past him, her focus locked on the keyboard as her fingertips skimmed over the keys. A few commands later, the screen shifted, pulling up a log marked “Nap Room Access.”

18545 Toby Jackson Entered: 03:44 Left: 07:31

18546 Sara Takahashi Entered: 04:51 Left: 07:08

18547 Walt Paige Entered: 12:03 Left: 13:36

18548 Anthony White Entered: 12:05 Left:12:48

18549 Cyril Archer Entered: 18:01 Left: 20:21

18550 Desmond Lock Entered: 18:04 Left: 19:58

18551 Wayne Li Entered: 20:16 Left: —:—

“There,” Vera said, pointing to the entry at the bottom of the list. “Last researcher entered… Wayne Li. Never left.” She tapped the screen lightly, her other hand reaching for the strap of her bag as she straightened. “Which means—”

“—He’s still in there,” Leon finished, his shoulders squaring with more vigor as he straightened beside her. “And if he’s still in there, he’s got an upgraded wristband.”

"See? Wasn't so hard," Vera declared cheerfully. There was pride in her smile as she squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, her thumb moving in a circular motion over the fabric of his vest, causing tingles to erupt under the spot. "Good thing you brought me along."

The path they took by entering through the door next to the desk wasn't entirely different from the area they've been in, up until they took a left.

"I was wondering when we'd get to this part," Vera said upon seeing the blood splattered across the wall in an erratic pattern, dark and drying, in erratic stains against the sterile white and orange panels. The droplets streaked downward in places, as if gravity had pulled them from violent impact points, leaving trails that spoke of desperation or struggle.

Leon didn't see any bodies around, but that didn't mean a lot—after all, the blood usually meant a follow the crumbs game. And follow the blood they did. There wasn't any other alternative to begin with if they wanted to get to that nap room, which was unavailable to them judging from the blue glow of the door ahead.

“Let’s be smart about this,” he said as they got closer to the cafeteria door, gripping his pistol tightly. “We don’t know what’s waiting for us on the other side—”

The doors slid open with a sharp hiss, cutting off his words as the sensor picked up their presence. A wave of sound and smell hit them at once. Low, guttural snarls spilled into the hallway, intermingling with the wet, tearing noises of something feeding. The stench of rot rolled over them, sour and metallic, accompanied by a haze of heat radiating from within the darkened interior.

Neither of them moved.

Leon’s flashlight swept into the room, its beam dancing over the carnage. Tables and chairs were overturned in a haphazard mess, trays of congealed food scattered across the floor. Near the center of the cafeteria, several hunched figures crouched over what remained of two bodies, their jaws working methodically as they tore into the flesh. The flashlight caught the faint gleam of exposed ribs, the gore slick and glistening under the faint, flickering light from a distant emergency panel.

A cheery, automated announcement broke the spell, its pleasant tone starkly out of place against the nightmare tableau.

“Our menu is designed for your nutritional needs using our latest biological research. Please enjoy our tasty selection of healthy foods.”

It seemed to echo in the dark, drawing a sharp, startled laugh from Vera. The sound came quick and involuntary, cutting off just as fast as she clapped a hand over her mouth. The nearest zombie jerked upright at the noise, its head snapping toward the doors. Its mangled features were bathed in the faint light from the hallway, chunks of flesh still clinging to its broken teeth.

“Shit,” Leon hissed, his hand tightening around the grip of his pistol. He raised the weapon, taking a single, steadying step forward. “I’ve got this. Stay close.”

The first shot rang out, striking the zombie square in the head and sending it crumpling to the floor. The others turned as one, their snarls deepening into guttural howls as they charged. Leon fired again, his flashlight bobbing with each shot as he moved further into the room. Vera followed, her steps quick and light, her hand fumbling for the camera at her side.

“Careful!” Leon barked as another zombie lunged, its outstretched arms catching the edge of the overturned table in front of her. The wood splintered as Vera ducked, her bag catching briefly on the corner as she stumbled backward.

“I’m fine!” she shouted, pulling the bag free with a sharp tug. She kicked the table forward, sending it toppling into the zombie’s shins as she scrambled for cover behind another set of chairs.

Leon dispatched the creature with a single, well-placed shot before whirling toward the others. The flashlight beam danced across the room, illuminating the last two zombies as they advanced on his position. He aimed carefully, squeezing off two quick shots in succession, the sound reverberating through the room as both figures collapsed in a heap.

The silence that followed was jarring. The only sound was the faint hum of the emergency panel, its flickering light casting an eerie glow across the carnage. Leon exhaled sharply, his grip loosening on the pistol as he scanned the room. “Clear,” he said finally, wiping sweat from his forehead.

Vera didn’t respond immediately, her camera raised as she snapped a photo of the bloodstained floor.

"Got plenty of ammo here," Vera announced, leaning down to scoop up a discarded box of bullets while hanging her trusty digital cam down her neck again. They reloaded weapons together, finding a good rhythm to make the process faster and easier—Vera made sure Matilda was properly loaded for him and checked to see if anything was amiss with it while he looked after Lightning Hawk's mag and then returned the favor.

Vera rose from behind the chairs, brushing dust and debris from her sleeves. She surveyed the room briefly before making her way to the vending machine in the corner. “I need a snack,” she muttered, her tone dry as she leaned against the glass.

Leon turned, the beam of his flashlight following her movements as she dug into her bag and pulled out a small pry tool. “Right now? Don't you think we have other priorities—Jesus! Be caref—You're going to get hurt like that!"

Vera ignored him, digging the tip of the tool underneath one of the machine's screws and giving it a sharp twist. The metal groaned, popping free with surprising ease. "Do you want me to keep my blood sugar up or not?” Vera shot back, jamming the tool into the edge of the machine’s frame. The glass creaked under the pressure as she levered it outward, the faint sound of cracking glass filling the air. “Besides, I do this all the time. These things are ridiculously easy to break into; everyone knows that." She grunted in satisfaction when one side finally gave, sliding open to reveal the rows of colorful packages inside. A satisfied grin crossed her face as she grabbed several packs of candy bars, stuffing them unceremoniously into her bag.

Meanwhile, Leon took to looking around. Rows of coffee dispensers stood untouched, their metallic surfaces gleaming under the beam from his flashlight. Disposable cups were stacked neatly, waiting for hands that would never reach for them. The shelves below held neatly arranged snacks and drinks, their vibrant packaging offering an unsettling normalcy against the sterile dread creeping in from beyond this space.

The vending machines in the corner emitted a low hum, their lights casting soft halos that illuminated the floor. One machine's glass panel was cracked, jagged lines running through its surface, as though someone had struck it in desperation. Near the counter, a few streaks of blood marred the wooden floor, leading toward the booths at the far end. The faint crimson trail, though small, told a story of someone seeking refuge here—someone who likely never found it.

The wall held a collection of posters and menus, fragments of normalcy frozen in time. The menu board for “The Dark Bean” stood out at the top, listing options like “Original Coffee” and “CrystalSODA” in crisp, clear lettering. Prices were still visible—affordable yet mundane, hinting at a time when employees or scientists could pause their work for a quick break, the biggest decision of their day being between "Strong Shot" or "Gold Coffee." The promotional slogan below the coffee ad declared, “The best days always start with the best cup of coffee,” an irony given the desolation surrounding this cafeteria.

Below, posters tried their best to exude optimism and order. One featured a hiker at the summit of a mountain, arms outstretched as if basking in the achievement. Its tagline, “Fulfilling life comes from good health,” felt like a hollow platitude in this setting, a cruel mockery of the reality beyond these walls. Another image showed a proud “Officer of the Month” announcement for Marvin Branagh, his uniform crisp, his smile sincere.

He couldn't stop the, "Oh," escaping him at seeing Marvin's face so full of life and hope, looking just like before all hell broke loose.

He couldn't help but look back at Vera, and found she was already staring back at him with an unreadable emotion on her face before she dropped what she was doing and came to stand at his side again. The silent understanding passed between them like waves rolling in a tranquil ocean as they stared at Marvin's picture in memory.

Then, she reached forward to take it off the wall angrily with shaking hands, holding it closer to her chest with a frown, blinking rapidly and hugging it close to her body without another world, almost protective. As if she was shielding the picture away from harm and protecting something precious to herself. Something Leon knew he had no business asking about unless she wanted to bring it up herself. So he let her hug the piece of paper, turn away from him and pretend nothing happened because that's all she needed right now, to be alone and collect herself. Her grip tightened around the edge of Marvin's image, trembling, the fingers of her other hand caressing the photo with such delicacy as if trying to memorize every little detail, lingering over the face, tracing the shape of his lips. Then she gingerly folded the page and tucked it safely away into the front pocket of her bag.

Leon shook his head, sighing under his breath as he turned toward the far end of the room. A ladder loomed against the wall, its metal rungs catching the faint light of the flashlight. “Ready to go?” he asked over his shoulder, his hand resting on the bottom rung.

“Just about,” Vera replied, kicking the broken pieces of glass aside with her foot before crossing back toward him. Her lips stretched into a small smile, and despite their situation, Leon found himself mirroring the gesture without thinking.

She gestured toward the ladder with a tilt of her head. “Lead the way, Boy Scout.”

They climbed in silence, the rungs cold and slick beneath their hands as they ascended into the vent. The space was surprisingly large, its walls lined with smooth metal that stretched upward into a narrow corridor. Leon moved ahead, his flashlight illuminating the path as they shuffled forward. At the far end, the vent opened into the kitchen, the faint gleam of stainless steel appliances visible through the slats.

Leon dropped down first, his boots hitting the tiled floor with a faint thud. He turned, extending a hand as Vera climbed out behind him. The kitchen was eerily quiet, its surfaces untouched save for a thin layer of dust. The faint smell of rot lingered, mingling with the metallic tang of the vent.

Vera wandered toward the stove, her movements casual as she pulled open a nearby pot lid. “Would you look at that,” she said, pulling out a plate of cold pancakes. “Still good.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Leon warned, his flashlight beam snapping toward her. “You don’t know what’s been in here.”

“This place was locked from the outside,” Vera replied, already taking a bite. She gestured toward the vent with her fork. “No contamination. Perfectly safe.”

Was she really that hungry?

Leon opened his mouth to retort when his flashlight fell across the counter, illuminating rows of sealed containers lining the shelves. His footsteps echoed on the tile floor as he approached the first container, opening the lid to reveal a row of perfectly portioned sandwiches. Below that lay bowls filled with various fruits, vegetables, and condiments. On the other side was a cart laden with bottled waters, juice, and sodas, all neatly arranged for easy access. Everything was protected by sealant coating, ensuring freshness. It looked more like a five-star restaurant than anything else—but then again, Umbrella spared no expense when it came to spoiling their VIPs, apparently.

"Guess this counts as clean enough," Leon remarked, letting the comment slide as he joined Vera at the counter.

"Told you so," she mumbled through a mouthful of pancake. She swallowed audibly, setting the dish aside before picking up another. "These are actually really good. You want some?"

The corners of his lips tugged upward in amusement as he shook his head, "No thanks."

Vera shrugged, turning her attention toward the cart instead, popping a bottle of soda open. "More for me."

Not that Leon minded watching her eat for a moment while scanning their surroundings.

She was done in no time, licking syrup off the fork in a slow drag which caused an odd reaction within Leon that had him straighten awkwardly in response. After washing down the pancakes with the rest of the pop, they left the kitchen behind together. The door hissed shut behind them as they exited the room into a pitch black corridor, which was beyond the out-of-access nap room entrance they had to take a detour to bypass.

“You’ve got the appetite of a college freshman,” he said as he began to move forward, stepping tentatively along the passageway. His flashlight flickered slightly, casting uneven shadows against the scuffed walls. “What do we do if your blood sugar rises? Do you have insulin with you?"

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine." Vera gestured toward the glowing green light ahead. “That’s gotta be it.”

Leon nodded, gripping his pistol a little tighter as they approached the Nap Room door. The panel beside it blinked faintly, displaying a soft blue hue that matched the faint lettering above the entrance. He stopped just short of the sensor, giving Vera a sidelong glance.

“No surprises, huh?” he muttered, more to himself than her. He moved forward, triggering the automatic door.

It slid open with a low hiss, revealing rows of pods lined neatly along the far wall. Each pod was embedded into the structure, their surfaces smooth and sterile under the faint glow of the emergency lights. The air felt colder here, sharper somehow, as if the room had been sealed off for far longer than the rest of the lab.

Leon took the first cautious step inside, his boots muffled against the polished floor. “Stay close,” he said over his shoulder, sweeping the flashlight beam across the room.

Vera followed, her camera already in hand as she scanned the space. She trailed the lens over the rows of pods, her fingers brushing lightly against the edges as she walked. "There's our guy."

Leon's flashlight caught on the shut panel of the last pod. A figure's arm was hanging limply over the edge, stopping the pod door from closing entirely. The body was still, its lab coat that was peeking out from the narrow opening stained with deep maroon streaks that had long since dried. The faint glint of a wristband caught his attention, and he leaned in, gripping the pod’s edge as he inspected it further.

“This is it,” he called out, reaching out carefully, his hand brushing against the scientist’s arm as he unclipped the wristband. The skin felt cold and clammy beneath his touch, flaking off where his fingers brushed it, as if it were disintegrating under his grasp. He jerked back involuntarily, wiping his palm on his pants reflexively. A shadow caught the corner of his vision as Vera stepped up behind him, peering at the body with mild interest.

"Ugh," she said, making a face as the scent of rotting flesh grew stronger. "Stinks." She waved her hand in front of her nose.

He turned the wristband over in his hand briefly before tucking it into his pocket. “Got what we need. Let’s check the rest of the room before we head back.”

Vera, who had been trailing the lens of her camera along the pods, lowered it slightly and gestured toward the opposite wall. “What about those?” she asked, nodding toward a row of tall, narrow lockers set into the wall.

Leon turned, his flashlight flickering across the lockers as he moved toward them. “Worth a look,” he said after a moment of consideration.

Vera opened the next locker with a quick tug, her brow furrowing as she reached inside. Her hand closed around a cold, metallic object, and she pulled it out carefully, holding it up to inspect it in the faint light. “Well, hello,” she murmured, turning it over in her hands. The cylindrical device gleamed faintly, its compact design bearing the telltale markings of lab equipment. A quick glance at the engraved label confirmed its identity: Flamethrower Regulator.

Leon turned at her words, his flashlight falling on the device in her hands. “You’re kidding,” he deadpanned, his face betraying a trace of disbelief as he met her eager grin. "That’s what they’re stashing in the nap room?”

Vera shrugged, tucking the regulator into her bag with a satisfied look. “Maybe they were expecting a bad dream,” she said, nudging the locker door shut with her boot. “Either way, it’s ours now.”

"We don't even have a flamethrower, what are we gonna do with this?"

"I don't know yet, but I'm sure it will be useful in the future."

As Leon stepped into the main shaft, the limited confines of the laboratory abruptly gave way to a vertiginous chasm that felt pulled from the pages of science fiction. The space was colossal, an industrial monolith buried beneath Raccoon City, its scale almost too much for the mind to comprehend. The first sensation was vertigo.

Both he and Vera froze at the threshold, their boots scraping against the grated platform. His breath caught as he took in the sheer immensity of what sprawled ahead. Far below the grated walkway lay a seemingly endless abyss, faintly illuminated by the cold, sterile glow of scattered lights. Veins of machinery and conduits ran down the cylindrical contraptions in the walls that were twisting and turning, a complex web of engineering that disappeared into darkness. It felt alive, almost sentient, with faint wisps of steam hissing from unseen vents, dissipating into the void like ghostly tendrils. The metal beneath his feet vibrated subtly, rumbling like a predator just waking from hibernation.

The centerpiece of this massive chamber dominated his vision: a cylindrical tower bathed in a cold, sterile glow. It rose endlessly, its smooth metallic surface lit by concentric rows of lights that pierced the gloom, disappearing into shadow high above and below. The sheer massiveness of the structure dwarfed everything else, looming like a sleeping giant at the core of this cavernous enclosure.

Leon’s pulse quickened, the sharp edge of fear mingling with awe. It wasn’t just the physical height that made his stomach churn; it was the realization that he was standing at the heart of something far beyond human comprehension. This was Umbrella’s domain, and the space itself felt like a manifestation of their power—grand, cold, and uncaring. The faint glimmer of metal walkways branching from his position toward doors marked "East Area" and "West Area" were the only signs of direction in an otherwise overwhelming abyss.

Next to him, Vera inhaled sharply, her face pale beneath the stark fluorescent lighting. Her hand came to rest on his arm, her grip tightening ever so lightly as though seeking comfort. Without hesitation, Leon found himself responding, covering her palm with his own, steadying both of them. His fingertips traced tiny circles into the bare skin of her wrist, and when she leaned closer, her elbow grazing against his, he felt her exhale shakily. The small act of reassurance seemed to relax them both, grounding them to reality again.

“Looks like something out of a sci-fi movie,” Vera said, her gaze trailing upward to the distant ceiling as she stepped onto the main platform. She moved to the railing, leaning over slightly to peer into the abyss below. “This whole time, we’ve been standing on top of... this.”

"Yeah," he agreed absentmindedly, trying not to focus on how precariously close they were to a sudden drop. His hand tightened around his pistol as he scanned the catwalk for potential threats. "Let’s go."

It was only after they began to move forward that he caught a glint of something out of the corner of his eye. At first, it didn’t register; the corpse was slumped so naturally against the railing that it could almost be mistaken for an extension of the metalwork. But upon second glance, it became painfully obvious what he was looking at. The body—draped in tactical gear and a gas mask, now eerily reflective under the harsh overhead lights—sat motionless, like a gargoyle perched along the catwalk. A dark pool of blood had spread across the grating beneath the figure, thick streaks staining the walkway with scarlet trails.

"Special forces," Vera remarked coolly, nudging the corpse’s foot with the toe of her boot. "I wonder how long ago they were sent here."

"What matters now is how he can help us," Leon crouched beside the body, his hands quick and practiced as he checked for supplies. He pulled out a spare magazine and a combat knife, tucking them into his belt.

Vera moved closer, her camera already in hand as she captured the scene. The lens whirred faintly as she adjusted the focus, trailing over the soldier’s uniform and the dark stains that marred the fabric. “I think Birkin did this. Look at how brutalized the body is. They must have come here for the G-Virus and... Well."

He reached into one of the uniform’s pockets, pulling out a small, rectangular device. “Looks like a recorder,” he said, turning it over in his hand before pressing the play button.

The device crackled to life, the static-filled recording echoing in the vast space. The voices were clipped and professional, the words coming through with military precision.

"Alpha to Ghost. Target moving to the West Area. Must be going to retrieve the G-Virus and antiviral agent."

Leon and Vera exchanged a glance, neither speaking as they listened to the recording continue.

"This is Ghost. Understood. Rendezvous at Point W-3."

"Roger."

"This is Alpha. Arrived at destination."

"Understood. Stand by for target."

"This is Alpha, I've got eyes on the target. He's going to open the safe."

"Roger. Awaiting the signal."

"Got eyes on the G-Virus."

Vera adjusted the camera slightly, the lens focusing on the dead man’s face as the recording continued.

"We're going in..."

"Doctor Birkin, you'll come along with us quietly."

After the recording stopped, he was about to pocket the device, but Vera snatched it from him, saying, "Evidence goes into the bag."

“G-Virus is in the West Area, let's go," he leaned his head towards where he was talking about.

Vera lowered her camera, her gaze flicking toward the central platform. “That information could be outdated,” she said, tapping the screen with a frown. "Who knows if the G-Virus is even there anymore."

"From the state this guy's in and the other one in the cafeteria," he gestured toward the soldier's body with an upturned palm. "I'm willing to take my chances."

They came to find out that Claire had left a trail behind her, namely the opened bridge to the East Area. And when they tried to fiddle with the console that withdrew the West Area's bridge from them, it said, “Senior Staff clearance required for bridge access," out loud in return like it was an impatient AI assistant whose purpose was just to make them annoyed.

Which meant they had to take a detour in hopes of finding a higher clearance wristband like they managed to do with Wayne Li.

The East Area lobby greeted them with an unsettling quiet. There were no traces of combat, nor any sign that something worse had taken place here aside from a broken ceiling vent in the corridor that led here. It was just a normal, abandoned lobby: a mess desk at the front with a computer terminal and filing cabinet, a pair of double doors on either side of them, and a few waiting area couches pushed up against the far wall. Everything was painted in neutral colors—creams, whites, grays, pastels. The layout was pristine but lifeless, its stark design reminiscent of the sterile corridors they’d already trudged through.

The door to the south didn't open, so they moved to the other obvious choice which was marked as the presentation room in their map.

A glass wall dominated one side of the space, its surface marred by jagged cracks that spiderwebbed out from the center. The cracks radiated from where a man in a hazmat suit had been violently slammed against the glass, his body still pinned there by thick, green vines that coiled around him like living ropes. The glass was groaning faintly under his weight, the largest crack just inches from giving way entirely.

Leon and Vera shared a bewildered look as they crossed the empty chamber, stopping just short of the crumpled figure trapped against the glass. The cracked window transformed the incoming light into a fractured mosaic, splintering it into erratic patterns of light and shadow that danced across the smooth floor. Vera leaned forward cautiously, peering through the distorted view that lay beyond the shattered barrier. “What in the actual hell…”

Leon shifted his stance, his flashlight illuminating the vines that wrapped around the man’s limbs and torso. The largest vine spiraled tightly around his outstretched arm, where a metallic chip glinted faintly against the dim light. “That’s a Senior Staff Chip,” he said, stepping closer to inspect it.

Vera edged closer to the window, trailing her camera along the foliage as it undulated unnaturally against the figure. One of the smaller tendrils unfurled slowly, waving in the faint breeze like a snake scenting prey. Another vine stretched toward them, its tip spreading outward and wrapping around itself like a twisted flower budding open. Tiny spores erupted from its core, flitting about as though drunkenly searching for some unseen target.

"Well," Leon sighed heavily, shaking his head as he glanced over at Vera, who was recording all the details on the vines and whatnot, completely immersed in the new discovery. "We have to go in there to get it."

The vines seemed to originate from beyond the glass, snaking out from the dense greenery that filled the room beyond. Thick roots coiled around the base of a massive tree-like structure, its branches bristling with what looked like oversized thorns.

Vera pulled her camera out, the lens clicking softly as she adjusted the focus. "I think first we should figure out how to get that chip without ending up like him.”

Leon stepped back from the glass, focusing on a podium near the wall. He moved toward it, his hand brushing against the edge as he inspected the display. The screen of the computer standing on top of it flickered red, its surface marred by the same error message they’d seen in the lobby. “No luck here,” he said, edged with frustration. “We’re locked out.”

Vera sighed, her camera lowering as she moved to the corner of the room. Her hand brushed against a small metal cabinet, the faint creak of hinges breaking the quiet as she opened it. Her brow furrowed slightly as she reached inside, pulling out a long, cylindrical object. "Aha! Chekov's flamethrower! Didn't I tell you we'd find something? That regulator wasn't lying around for no reason."

Seeing her that pumped up about a fire breathing machine made it impossible for Leon not to smile. It was somehow in character for her to love combustion weaponry so much - because, as he understood, Vera loved playing with fire. Maybe literally. Controlled chaos seemed to be her thing.

“You think that’s enough to deal with… whatever’s in there?”

Vera slung the flamethrower over her shoulder, her hand gripping the strap tightly as she stepped back toward the glass. “There’s only one way to find out,” she said, resting her free hand against the window as she peered into the obscured space beyond the window. "Let's burn this bitch down!"

The specimen room section they had to pass through before arriving at the greenhouse a disorienting descent into nature's rebellion against control. Tendrils of mutated vegetation coiled along the walls and disappeared into the pervasive misty air like searching fingers. Vines hung in tangles from the ceiling, some swaying lazily, others ominously still, their bark-like texture glistening with moisture.

The air felt alive, thick with the earthy aroma of decaying greenery and something far more sinister—an underlying chemical tang that stung the nostrils. Metal shelves stood scattered and overtaken by creeping growth, their once-polished surfaces dulled and warped by the relentless spread of this organic corruption. A circular terrarium in the center was illuminated from within, its contents a display of carnivorous plants and warped blossoms that seemed to twitch at the edges of vision.

A Leon could hear was faint drips of condensation falling to the floor, the groan of stressed metal, and the occasional unsettling rustle of leaves where no breeze should have been. A shattered window near the far end offered a glimpse into the greater jungle of the laboratory—branches clawing toward the interior as though eager to invade. Whatever control the lab had once exerted over its experiments had clearly been lost, and the result was an uninhibited wildness that spilled freely into this place.

Beside him, Vera let out a low whistle, her camera clicking rapidly as she adjusted her hold on the weapon.

She lowered her camera finally, adjusting the strap before taking a cautious step forward. Her boots crunched softly against the debris littering the floor as she moved. "If Umbrella ever decided to start making movies," she murmured, sidestepping a thick tangle of vines snaking across their path. "They wouldn't even need actors, the entire set could just do all the work itself."

Leon stepped forward cautiously, his flashlight carving a path through the gloom. The beam swept over a shelf to the left, revealing a small canister labeled Flamethrower Fuel. He reached out and grabbed it, turning it over briefly before handing it to Vera. “Here, fuel for your weapon of destruction."

All of these just lying around made Leon uneasy. This flamethrower was used for something. Or, on something. It couldn't be for regular zombies. None of what he'd come across was burned so far. What then?

While Vera busied herself with where to put the fuel canister in the flamethrower and trying to juggle it with the camera in one hand at the same time, Leon only noticed the faint shift in the foliage above at the very last minute. A figure, nearly indistinguishable from the surrounding vines, hung suspended from the ceiling. Its form was grotesque, covered in thick, veined growths that pulsed faintly, clinging to the vines like an insect, its limbs twisted and elongated by whatever mutation had taken hold. He pulled Vera (with a surprised "Oof!") back when it dropped from the ceiling with a wet, sickening thud. Its limbs sprawled out as it landed, and for a moment it lay still, as if adjusting to its new position. Then it jerked upright, its head twisting at an unnatural angle as it faced them. The faint glow from the surrounding plants cast harsh shadows across its misshapen body, highlighting the vine-like tendrils that sprouted from its shoulders and arms.

Leon’s pistol was up in an instant, the first shot cracking through the room and punching right through its skull. The creature let out a hoarse cry as it toppled backward, flailing wildly. It didn't go down, though. Not as easily as Leon wanted it to. In fact, instead of stopping, it started moving again despite having most of its brains blown off its face. With incredible speed and agility, it bounded up onto the metal shelf closest to them and flung itself forward. He aimed for its head, firing rapidly until the magazine clicked empty. But every hit just seemed to rile up the thing more, and it kept coming, undeterred.

“Shit!” Leon barked, discarding his empty pistol to the ground and diving behind one of the many shelving units littering the laboratory floor. He was trying to equip his shotgun but it was proving difficult.

Vera froze for half a second, her camera slipping slightly in her grip as she tried to process what she was seeing. Then she fumbled to lift the flamethrower, her movements hurried but clumsy. “What the hell is that thing?!” she shouted, scrambling back from the approaching beast. The flamethrower was slippery between her palms from panic.

Leon's attention was split between saving Vera and figuring out how to pull his shotgun from the strap holding it to his chest. That was when the monstrosity attacked her, landing on top of Vera and knocking her to the ground, her flamethrower scattering across the cement floor out of reach. When Leon heard a pained scream he abandoned his task immediately and jumped into action, slamming his elbow down on the monster's head and kicking the thing away from her while it was dazed enough.

That was enough time for her to react and grip the flamethrower, get one knee on the floor and brace one foot down to stabilize herself, aiming it toward the creature as it rushed at him in an attempt to catch it in the flames and roast it alive. A stream of fire erupted from the nozzle, its bright, searing light illuminating the entire room. The flames engulfed the creature, drawing tortured wails as it staggered backwards and collapsed in a charred heap of smoking flesh and wood.

"Hey, you okay?" Leon called, reaching out to steady her. Vera was panting, her hair sticking to her sweat-stained forehead. She nodded breathlessly, offering him a grateful look.

Her skin felt warm beneath his touch from being really close to the fire. When she stumbled sideways he moved quickly to grab her shoulder, concern flooding through him. Her dark skin was ashen, brow creased, her lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line. Sweat beaded on her temple, her dark curls clinging to the damp skin. Her hand gripped the flamethrower tightly, the knuckles white from exertion, while her other arm wrapped protectively around her waist, fingers curling into her shirt. There was a tremor to her stance, a subtle sway that spoke of weariness or pain, or perhaps both.

"That overgrown compost pile," Vera gritted out angrily, dusting herself off before heading over to inspect the remains of their recent foe. "Garden reject son of a bitch."

Leon followed her closely, grabbing his pistol along the way and reloading it carefully. As soon as he put another bullet through the creature's skull, just to be sure it really won't get up again, he looked over at her. "Did it hurt you?"

"Only my pride," Vera said. "I don't even get where its mouth is."

He sighed. If he weren't worried sick about Vera getting scratched by those claws or touched by any contaminated slime that might be left on the floor where that thing was writhing around in agony earlier, he'd be laughing. They stood there for a moment longer, the faint crackling of embers the only sound in the room. Then Leon turned, nodding toward the far end of the greenhouse. “Come on,” he said. “We’ve got a lot more ground to cover.”

Vera nodded, slinging the flamethrower over her shoulder as she followed him. To their surprise, the area didn't open to the greenhouse itself but to a monitoring room. The control desk sprawled before the jagged glass wall, featuring two turned off computer monitors. Keyboards lay scattered, some missing keys, others slick with the grime of frantic use. Chairs, mismatched and squeaking on their swivels, sat slightly askew, abandoned mid-task as if their users had been pulled away without warning. Papers were strewn across the desktop, their pages curled and stained from spilled liquids, and the remnants of a smashed mug rested on the floor, the coffee long since evaporated into a brownish stain.

However, what drew immediate attention to itself was the control terminal that covered the far right wall. It came across as a projection curtain at first, but in reality, was a monitor that displayed a series of schematics and blueprints, their details etched in vibrant cyan lines that pulsed faintly, as though alive. The central diagram dominated the display—a rotating 3D model of the facility's layout, layers of corridors and chambers unraveling like a labyrinth.

To its right, a floor map detailed the greenhouse section, corridors branching like veins and arteries around the central hub. Labels flickered on and off, the words "East Area" and "Greenhouse Control Room" standing out against the grid. The screens seemed to breathe with the rhythm of flickering light, a silent, cold heartbeat at the core of this digital nerve center. Beneath the monitor, the console hummed softly, its control panel riddled with an array of buttons and a small touch screen displaying the words: "User Authorization Required." The touch screen glared a piercing white, waiting, almost expectant. A faint layer of dust had settled over the terminal, marred by the imprint of frantic fingertips, the evidence of prior, desperate attempts at access.

“Drug Testing Lab,” he read aloud, tapping the edge of the console. The label blinked faintly, the pathway to the room marked by a glowing line. “And this—” He gestured toward another section of the map. “—that ladder connects to the lower levels.”

Behind him, Vera shifted her weight, her bag rustling faintly as she adjusted the strap over her shoulder. She stepped closer, her gaze trailing over the screen as she pointed toward the flashing green indicators. “Looks like someone’s already been here,” she said, her finger tracing a line from the East Area to the Greenhouse. “See that? Someone unlocked those sections.”

Leon straightened up, his palm resting flat against the cool surface of the monitor. “You think—?”

“Claire,” Vera interrupted, nodding toward the screen. “It has to be. West Area is unavailable. She has to be around here.”

Leon’s hand instinctively reached for his walkie-talkie, pulling it from his belt as he stepped away from the console. He turned the dial carefully, tuning into the familiar frequency before pressing the button. “Claire? It’s Leon,” he said, raising the device to his mouth. His thumb tapped anxiously on the casing as the seconds stretched, a low buzz of static filling the silence between transmissions. “Can you hear me?”

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was the soft hiss of static, and then, a faint click signaled a response. Claire’s exhausted sigh was audible, the sound carrying a palpably weary relief. “God, finally—I was wondering when I’d hear from you. Are you guys alright?"

He smiled at her concerned question, his hand gripping the radio a little tighter, his thoughts drifting to Vera. "Yeah. Yeah, we're okay. Had a bit of trouble on our way, but nothing we couldn’t handle. Where are you, Claire? We're in the greenhouse control place in the East Area. Was it you who unlocked the Drug Testing Room and the ladder?”

"Yeah," Claire replied, her breaths coming in short, tired bursts. "I'm... yeah, I've just finished in the drug testing lab. It's for Sherry's vaccine. But I need to cool it down. Problem is, I can’t get there—the area’s sealed because there's no power in the area, and I can’t figure out how to restore it."

Leon’s shoulders squared as he processed her words. “Where are you now?” he asked, glancing back at the map on the terminal. “Are you safe?”

“Down the ladder,” Claire replied, the static crackling faintly before her words came through again. “I’ve been running in circles trying to figure this out. I need to make the solution stable, it's garbage otherwise.”

Vera stepped closer, her camera slung over her shoulder as she nodded toward Leon. “Not if I can help it," she chimed in, her free hand resting on her hip. "We'll meet you there. Hold on tight, girl, the cavalry is on its way.”

They could practically feel the smile in Claire's answering sigh, the relief tangible even through the tinny speaker of the radio. "Good to hear your voice, Vera. See you in a bit, then."

The greenhouse stretched out before them like a surreal nightmare the moment they stepped into there. The massive space was dominated by a tangled web of vines and thick roots that coiled up the walls, twisting and stretching across the floor like veins feeding a monstrous heart. Brightly colored flowers, swollen and grotesque, pulsed faintly in the shadows, their alien forms standing out against the muted greens and browns of the overgrowth.

Leon took a step forward, his boots crunching softly against the moss-covered floor. His flashlight swept over the expanse, the beam catching on the gleam of something metallic embedded in the greenery ahead. He stopped short, his posture stiffening as his gaze locked onto the object. It was the senior staff chip, still hanging from the wristband of the outstretched hand of the man they’d seen pinned against the glass in the presentation room.

“Well, there it is,” Leon muttered, gesturing toward the distant figure. "We're gonna have to torch the whole thing."

"After we're done downstairs." Vera was already moving, her steps quick and light, as she picked her way carefully through the tangle of vines and leaves. She paused at a junction in the path, her head tilting to the side as she considered the options. “Which way do you think leads to the lower levels?"

"From the map," Leon started to say, but he cut himself off, his senses suddenly on high alert. A low, guttural croak echoed through the humid space, the sound seeming to come from all directions at once. He raised his weapon, narrowing his gaze as he prepared to fire.

“Don’t,” Vera hissed, grabbing his wrist. “Save the bullets—and the fuel.” She pointed toward the ladder, her voice low but firm. “We can swerve around them. They’re slow.”

Leon glanced at her, then back at the monsters ahead, his grip on the pistol tightening briefly before he nodded. “Fine,” he said. “But if one of them gets too close—”

“Then you can play action hero,” Vera interrupted, a wry smile tugging at her lips. Her fingers brushed his forearm, squeezing lightly before she released him. “For now, we stick to the plan.”

They moved carefully through the greenhouse, keeping low as they weaved through the dense overgrowth. The Ivy Zombies shuffled aimlessly, their movements slow and uneven, their hulking forms only partially visible through the foliage. The ladder at the far end of the room came into view, its metal rungs slick with condensation. Vera reached it first, gripping the edge as she glanced back over her shoulder. “After you,” she said, gesturing for Leon to go first.

Leon gave her a quick nod, holstering his pistol as he started his descend. The ladder creaked faintly under his weight, the sound echoing through the enclosed space. Vera followed close behind, her boots clanging softly against the metal as they climbed down into the sub-basement.

The maintenance passage was pitch black. Leon pulled a flashlight from his belt, the beam cutting a narrow swath of visibility in front of him. The tunnel was lined with a giant pipe and electrical wiring, the concrete walls damp and cold. They trudged through the gloom, their footsteps echoing hollowly, until they reached a dead-end, where a single door stood, a thin sliver of pale light bleeding from the edges. Leon reached for it, pushing his way into the lounge of the sub-basement.

The first thing his flashlight picked up on was blood.

Blood spattered the surfaces in erratic patterns, and deep claw marks ran jaggedly across the walls and floor. He couldn't even count the corpses scattered throughout the room, the light from the vending machines and muted emergency lights not enough to see properly. An uneasy feeling twisted in his gut, his hand instinctively dropping to his sidearm. He exchanged a grim look with Vera, who nodded silently, her camera clicking softly as she scanned the surroundings. She'd hung her flamethrower on her shoulder next to her bag, so Leon knew that meant that she didn't sense the presence of anything that'd require burning alive.

"I've only ever seen one thing do this kind of damage," she said, stepping carefully around a particularly grisly corpse.

Leon knew what she was talking about. Lickers. "We need to stay quiet. Let's go," he whispered, switching to his shotgun and holding his flashlight in his left hand. They had to find Claire. And fast. But also needed to be aware of their surroundings. One false step could mean death.

They didn't need to get far until coming across the two dead bodies of the said lickers sprawled in the middle of the corridor leading deeper into the place. It was clear that a fierce battle had occurred, and that Claire must have won, considering the fact that she was nowhere to be seen. It made Leon's heart leap with joy. At least that was a sign that she was alright.

Vera stepped up beside him, her gaze following the trail of carnage. She adjusted her bag, her stance shifting as she peered into the darkness beyond. "Claire's been busy."

They had barely made it another few steps when a figure appeared at the far end of the corridor, illuminated faintly by the flickering emergency lights. Claire came into view, her movements quick but steady as she approached. She stopped just short of them, her shoulders sagging slightly as she caught her breath. Her face was bruised, and her clothes were stained with sweat and grime. Dark smudges marred her skin, and a fresh cut adorned her forehead, a crimson slash that stood out in sharp relief against her pallid complexion. She looked exhausted, worn, her body held together by sheer willpower and grit. Yet despite the obvious signs of struggle, her blue-green stare burned fiercely, undaunted.

"Hey, you guys," Claire called out, her hands settling on her hips as she flashed them both a tired smile. "Did you miss me?"

Leon didn't know about Vera, but he was frozen with the disbelief of having Claire right in front of him after being separated for so long. It felt surreal. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, his mind racing with a dozen questions and concerns. Before he could find his tongue, Vera had already stepped forward, pulling Claire into a tight hug. "Hell, girl!" she exclaimed, her laughter tinged with a hint of unshed tears. "You've no idea!"

Leon couldn’t help but give her a relieved smile, his shoulders loosening as he finally allowed himself a moment of respite, watching as Claire returned the embrace firmly, her hands briefly not knowing where to rest on on Vera's crowded back before she pulled away, squeezing Vera's arms in an attempt to hold onto the warmth lingering there.

"It feels good to finally get back together again," Leon said earnestly, glad to see Claire's returning smile brighten up her face a bit more. "Glad to see you're in one piece."

At last, Claire let out a shuddering breath, her hands falling away from Vera's frame. Her stare flicked between them before settling on him, brows lifting expectantly. "What about you guys?" she asked, gesturing toward the entrance of the lounge with a tilt of her head. "Annette...?"

"Don't worry, we haven't come across her. I think she's in the West Area, so we should be safe for now," Leon assured.

The corners of Claire's lips twitched, and the fire sparked anew behind her irises. "Perfect," she said, glancing over her shoulder before turning back to face him fully, her brow furrowed into a determined frown. "Listen. We need to turn the power on..."

"I saw a circuit breaker right there," Vera pointed behind her with her thumb, "it seems we just need to retune the switches to restore the power. But I need something for that."

The hallway stretched before them, dimly lit and lined with faint stains that streaked across the walls and floors like remnants of an unseen battle. Leon led the way, his flashlight bouncing with each step, casting long, eerie shadows along the corridor. Claire walked behind him, her hand resting on her pack, while Vera brought up the rear, the flamethrower slung across her back like a soldier carrying a rifle.

The power was on beyond the stairwell they reached, and Leon stopped abruptly at the bottom, his stance stiffening as he raised his pistol toward the shadowy corner to the right. A zombie staggered into the faint light of his flashlight, its decayed features twisted in a grotesque snarl. Leon fired a single, clean shot, and the creature crumpled to the ground in a lifeless heap.

“Clear,” he said, stepping over the body as he ascended the stairs. “Stay sharp. There’s always more where that came from.”

Claire nodded, following close behind him, her boots clanging faintly against the grated metal steps. Vera adjusted the strap of her bag and moved after them, her tread soft and sure on the polished flooring.

They reached the midway point of the stairwell when something tumbled from above. The body hit the stairs with a sickening thud, its limbs sprawling at odd angles as it came to a stop just a few feet in front of Leon. He cursed under his breath, raising his pistol instinctively, while Vera’s grip on the flamethrower tightened as she swung it forward, ready to ignite. The corpse remained still, its decayed frame unmoving, and after a brief pause, Leon gestured for them to keep moving.

“It’s dead,” he said shortly, with a relieved sigh. "Let's go."

Vera exhaled sharply, lowering the flamethrower as she stepped around the body. “You say that like it means anything in this place,” she grumbled, shrugging as she continued up the staircase.

They reached the top of the stairs and pushed through the door into a storage room. The air here felt colder, the space cluttered with overturned shelves and scattered supplies. A single zombie wandered aimlessly near the far wall, its movements slow and uncoordinated as it dragged itself between the rows of shelves. Leon raised his pistol and fired, the shot a crack of thunder in the relative silence, and it crumbled to the floor, a pool of blood slowly spreading beneath its form.

Claire stepped forward, her attention drawn to a small shelf near the wall. She rummaged through the items left behind, her movements brisk but careful as she pulled out a grenade.

Leon moved toward the far corner, where a small panel was embedded into the wall. He stopped short, his hand brushing against the edge as he inspected it. “Looks like another one of that circuit breaker."

But this one had something plugged inside. It looked like a radio to Leon.

Vera stepped up beside him, her gaze trailing over the panel as she adjusted her grip on the flamethrower. “Signal modulator,” she said after a moment, brightening up with recognition. "Claire, you didn’t see this before?”

Claire shrugged, her stance loose as she gestured toward the panel. “Didn’t think it was important,” she admitted. “Figured it was just part of the facility’s systems.”

Vera crouched slightly, her hand brushing over the panel as she inspected it. The compact thing was locked into place, twin dials on either side glinting faintly under the harsh light, their edges textured for precision as they waited to be turned to different radio channels. The display itself was alive with activity: oscillating yellow, red, and green waveforms raced across the interface, pulsating erratically as though struggling to synchronize. Above the screen, engraved into the metal in sharp, clean letters, were the labels OSS, MUF, AWS, and MURF, and Leon had no idea what each of them corresponded to. A thin slider rested in place, its tiny groove highlighting its readiness to switch channels, inviting the user to align it correctly.

She tilted her head, a faint smirk playing at her lips as she stood. “Good thing you’ve got me. Let’s take this downstairs.”

Leon exchanged a glance with Claire, his eyebrow quirking curiously. Neither of them said anything, and Claire simply shook her head and stepped aside, making room for Vera as she made quick work of the panel and popped the rectangular device off with deft fingers.

They made their way back down to the lounge, descending the ladder carefully. Vera hopped the last few steps onto the tiled floor with ease, a pep in her step, cradling the signal modulator in both hands as she held it close to her chest. They went all the way back until reaching that first circuit breaker Leon had seen. He and Claire stopped a few feet behind her, watching as she inspected the word “MURF” glowing in the panel. Then with a few clicks, the same word was glowing on the upper strip of the device, and she started to play with the waveforms by turning the twin dials, making Leon realize she was trying to align the yellow one by getting the red and green ones stop at a specific sequence.

"Trust the process," Vera said after a brief silence of Leon and Claire staring in silence at her while she did her thing. "And trust my big brain."

With two more adjustments, the yellow lines stopped fluctuating, both of them aligned. She slotted the device into the panel with a faint click, the breaker humming faintly as the lights flickered to life around them, flooding the space with fluorescent brightness. Claire gasped, raising a hand to shield her vision momentarily, and Leon blinked rapidly, his pupils contracting in response to the sudden illumination. Vera smirked smugly at the other two, giving the curl of hair resting against her neck a confident flick.

“You did it,” Claire said, her tone laced with gratitude. She stepped forward quickly, wrapping her arms around Vera in a tight, impulsive hug, giving excited hops, making their weapons and inventory clink around. “I can’t believe you actually did it!"

"Told ya I would."

As they shared some celebratory, giddy laughter together, Leon watched on with amusement, before clearing his throat quietly, reminding them that they weren’t out of the woods just yet. As soon as the pair stopped giggling among themselves, they realized how late it was. "We really shouldn't stay here much longer. You said you have Sherry's vaccine solution, Claire?"

"Yeah," Claire said, "Yeah, let's go cool it down."

The low-temp testing lab, though, had quite literally turned into a freezer. Ice crystals coated every surface, the tiles slick with condensation, the metallic racks encrusted with frost. Frost coated everything—monitors, consoles, lab equipment, and pipes—while a layer of ice stretched across the floor, gleaming like a frozen pond. The sharp, metallic tang of coolant hung in the air, heavy and unnatural. Leon stepped further into the room, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as the icy particles filled his lungs. The humidity clung to him, seeping into his skin and chilling him to the bone. Everything ached, the cold gnashing at him relentlessly. A fog of freezing mist rolled around the place like ocean waves, engulfing everything in its frosty embrace. He heard Vera curse faintly behind him as she gripped his prickling shoulder.

"Is the equipment still usable?" Leon asked, glancing over his shoulder at Claire.

"I do have something to help if it isn't," Vera nudged her flamethrower, shooting him a wry grin.

Claire didn’t hesitate, moving toward the central cooling chamber. “I just need the chamber to work..."

Vera wandered along the side of the room, her boots leaving faint trails in the frost as she inspected the machinery. Her hand brushed lightly over a panel encrusted with ice, knocking some of it loose. “This whole place is held together with duct tape and prayer,” she said. “It’s a miracle the cooling system hasn’t burned itself out completely.”

Leon nodded toward Claire. “How long will it take?”

Claire carefully placed the vaccine vial into the cooling chamber, adjusting the settings on the frosted controls. “Not long,” she said, turning a dial until the machine whirred faintly to life. The vial rotated slowly within the chamber, its surface fogging up almost instantly. “Just a few minutes.”

“Good.” Leon shifted toward the doorway, keeping his hand near his holster. “We’ll stand guard. If this place is this cold, it’s because something got through it.”

“Great pep talk,” Vera quipped, leaning against a console and slinging the flamethrower forward. She adjusted the nozzle with practiced precision, her stance easy but alert. “If we’re lucky, we’ll only freeze our asses off and not get eaten.”

Claire shot her a quick glance over her shoulder. “You always this fun during crunch time?”

“I try,” Vera replied, her tone dry. “Adds to my charm.”

The minutes crawled by, the machine’s faint hum the only sound cutting through the freezing quiet. The fog continued to drift around them, disturbed only by their shifting boots and the occasional adjustment of gear. Claire’s hands hovered over the controls, checking and rechecking the chamber’s progress as the coolant did its work.

“Almost done,” she said finally, her voice cutting through the silence. She wiped frost from the glass casing, revealing the stabilized liquid inside. The machine chimed softly as it finished its cycle, and Claire carefully removed the vial, now cooled and ready for use. Frost clung to the surface, but the contents were steady.

“Got it,” she said, holding it up for the others to see. “Now I just need to call Annette."

"For what?" Leon asked.

"To administer this to Sherry. She's the scientist here. Also, I don't exactly have a syringe lying around."

Vera straightened, the faint squeak of her boots against the frosted floor breaking the quiet as she stepped closer. “If she’s tied up with Sherry in the security room,” she began slowly, her brows knitting into a slight frown, "that means the G-Virus will be unguarded in the West Area.”

Claire froze at that. "Yeah, but..."

“We grab the it while she’s distracted. Get in, get out, and no one’s the wiser.”

Claire hesitated, glancing between the two of them. “You think that’ll work?” she asked to Leon, skeptical. “What if she catches on that someone else is here?”

"She won't." It was Vera's turn to interject again, a glint of determination flashing behind her pale silver eyes as she spoke up, her conviction evident as she laid the plan out for the trio. "She doesn’t know Leon and I are in the lab. As far as she’s concerned, you’re the only one running around down here. Before you call, though, first, we get that senior staff chip in the greenhouse—"

"Do we need that though? Annette will open the bridge, anyway," Leon said.

"What about access through the West Area itself?" Vera countered. "For all we know, without that access, we'll get stuck at the first door we see."

"Right," he conceded, his one-way focus on getting the bridge open hadn't considered what would come beyond. "So, then..."

"Stop," Claire raised her hands. "Stop for a minute. You're getting ahead of yourselves here. All of this can go wrong so easily."

"Think positive," Leon quipped dryly, although internally agreeing with Claire. It sounded too good to be true—too perfect a plan, too easy. If he had learned anything since stepping into the precinct, it was that things hardly ever went right and definitely never perfectly. Still, they would never find out unless they tried... "We can make it work. Trust us."

The plant blockage hadn’t stood a chance against Vera’s flamethrower. She’d worked methodically, burning away the dense, writhing mass of vines that had sealed off the path. The fire had roared, consuming the mutated growth until the air was thick with the stench of scorched vegetation. Leon had stood back, covering their position as the vines peeled away and the catwalk finally cleared. The hazmat-suited man had crashed onto the walkway below, landing with an unceremonious thud against the metal grate. He stirred briefly before falling still, his head lolling limply to the side. All the while, Claire and Leon were fending off ivy zombies, trying to keep them on the ground long enough for Vera to be done. Once they had recovered the senior staff chip, they were out of there without even a glance back at the monsters clawing after them.

That brought them here—the main shaft. Leon moved toward the cylindrical elevator at the center of the platform, his boots scuffing softly against the metal floor. He gestured for Vera to follow, keeping his head on a swivel as his eyes tracked the bridges ahead. Vera stayed close, her flamethrower slung over her back and her camera held securely against her side. She didn’t say anything as they settled into position behind the elevator, crouching low to stay out of sight. From here, they were obscured from the view of the West Area bridge, Annette wouldn't be able to see them. All they had to do was slowly rotate to the left as she walked down to the right towards the north area, then sneak through when the time was right. This would give them plenty of time to get across safely and remain unseen, or at least that's what Leon hoped would happen.

Claire was standing right out in the open as she radioed Annette, "The antiviral agent is ready."

A long silence followed, punctuated only by faint static. Then, Annette’s reply came through, curt and direct. “I’m on my way.”

Leon shifted slightly, eyes fixed on the door to the West Area. “Here we go,” he whispered under his breath, exchanging a quick look with Vera before returning his attention back to the threshold.

The door slid open with a faint hiss, and Annette emerged, her lab coat trailing behind her as she moved briskly toward the console. She didn’t hesitate as she activated the bridge, the mechanism groaning faintly as it extended to connect the West Area to the Main Shaft.

Leon kept perfectly still, his body tense as he watched Annette cross the bridge. Vera didn’t move either, her camera angled just enough to capture the scientist’s movements without drawing attention. Annette’s focus was entirely forward, strutting quick and precise with Claire trailing behind her as she headed toward the northern corridor the same time as both of them shuffled to the left to be left out of her field of vision.

Once she disappeared through the door to the north, Vera lowered her camera, exhaling softly. “She’s in,” she said quietly. “Let’s go.”

Leon nodded, pushing himself up from their cover. He kept his pistol drawn as they moved toward the West Area bridge, their steps soft against the grated metal catwalk.

The West Area was an uncomfortable stretch of silence and anticipation, the corridors bathed in darkness, the faint hum of the facility’s systems conspicuously absent. Leon moved cautiously, his footsteps soft against the sleek, polished floor. Vera followed close behind, her flamethrower secured against her side, the low, faint scrape of her boots blending with the stillness around them.

Ahead, a collapsed body slumped against the wall, the gear of the U.S.S. soldier torn and crushed, blood splattered everywhere. Leon crouched beside the corpse, his movements quick and practiced. He unclipped a grenade from the soldier’s vest, hooking it onto his own belt with a faint metallic clink. His gaze lingered briefly on the soldier’s cracked helmet before Vera stepped closer, her camera already out.

“What’s this guy got for us?” she asked, kneeling next to him. She sifted through the soldier’s belongings, her hands precise as she pulled a tape from the small pack strapped to his side. The label, faded but still legible, read Operation NESTWRECKER 1. Vera held it up to Leon's flashlight, studying it for a moment before slipping it into her bag. “Another one goes into the evidence pile."

Leon rose, his stance alert as he gestured down the corridor. “Power’s still out. We’re not going anywhere until we get it back on.”

Vera straightened, adjusting the strap of her bag as she surveyed the unlit Biotesting Room ahead. “There’s always a breaker,” she muttered, her tone half to herself. “Umbrella loves their redundant systems.”

They moved cautiously into the Biotesting Room, the space even colder than the corridor. The faint outlines of equipment loomed in the shadows, the air heavy with the sterile tang of disinfectant and decay. Vera spotted the circuit breaker mounted on the far wall and headed straight for it, pulling the signal modulator from her bag and inspected the display.

Leon leaned against the doorframe, keeping his pistol at the ready as his eyes scanned the hallway behind them. “How long?”

“Few seconds,” Vera replied, her focus entirely on the modulator. The screen flashed OSS, and she adjusted the settings with deft precision. The device clicked softly as she matched the frequency, sliding it into the breaker with a sharp motion. The machinery around them shuddered faintly, a low hum rising as power surged back into the room.

Overhead lights flickered to life, illuminating the once-dark room with harsh fluorescence, and Leon immediately went rid upon noticing the state of the double sliding doors he was standing by, their edges were warped inward as though pried apart by something powerful and indiscriminate, or, worse yet, something way too big had crashed through them from inside the lab.

“There,” Vera said, stepping back and stowing the modulator in her bag. “All yours, hero.”

Leon moved toward the console at the center of the room, where a VCR and TV were built into the desk. The screen above the player blinked faintly with static. Vera retrieved the tape, sliding it into the VCR with a practiced motion. The screen resolved into grainy footage, the timestamp in the corner marking the date: 09/22/1998, 23:45.

The footage began, displaying the helmet-mounted perspective of a U.S.S. soldier identified as J. Martinez, who was hidden above the lab in a vent.

“Got eyes on the G-Virus,” he said.

“We’re going in,” another replied, stepping forward. “Doctor Birkin, you’ll come along with us quietly.”

The camera panned to show a man in a lab coat—William Birkin—standing rigidly at the far end of the room. His posture was stiff, his hands trembling faintly at his sides. “You think I didn’t know you were coming?” Birkin snapped, pressing up against the wall like he could create a new path to escape, clutching the case to his chest. “This is my life’s work! I’m not handing it over!”

The lead soldier took another step forward, his weapon raised but steady. “We have our orders, Doctor Birkin. I’ll ask you one more time—”

The scene erupted into chaos as Birkin pulled a pistol from his coat. Gunfire rang out, loud and chaotic in the enclosed space, and the camera jolted sharply as Martinez opened fire.

Birkin collapsed to the floor in a heap, his body motionless.

“Stop! Hold your fire!” the lead soldier barked, pushing Martinez so hard that he wobbled along with the camera. He got in Martinez's face. “What the fuck were you thinking? Our orders were to bring him in alive!”

Silence.

The camera followed the soldier as he stepped away, speaking into a radio clipped to his shoulder. “We’re in, sir, but we had a snafu. Target resisted; we had to take him out. That’s correct, sir. Roger that. Just the samples, then.”

The footage showed a soldier retrieving a silver suitcase from the floor, his hands steady as he lifted it. “Let’s move,” the lead soldier ordered. “Second target awaits.”

The tape ended abruptly, the screen cutting to black.

For a moment, neither of them said anything, processing what they just witnessed. Then Leon broke the silence, glancing over at Vera as she stopped the camera, took out the tape without a word and put it back in her bag. She turned to the terminal next to the console, its screen flashing with a waiting INBOX. “Might as well see what else these assholes were up to."

Sender: Jane Doyle

Subject: Suspending Research on "G"

The Umbrella Corporation has decided to cease all research on "G," which was ongoing at the NEST underground laboratory. All funding for this project has been cut, and laboratory director William Birkin has been removed from his post.

Sender: B.E.

Subject: (None)

Thank you for your mail, Dr. Birkin. Top brass has expressed an interest in this "evolving bioweapon" you mentioned. Do not worry about costs. Our "company" is the most well-funded in the whole of the United States.

Sender: Richard Kessler

Subject: Congratulations

I heard the good news. "G" is almost ready. Strange you never thought to report to the research lab here at Umbrella HQ... but I suppose I can let that slide. Anyway, send over the data, would you?

And don't worry. You've done good work on "G," but we can take care of the rest.

Sender: Jane Doyle

Subject: Notice of Admonishment

You are under suspicion of breaching your contract with the Umbrella Corporation. It has become clear that you have claimed ownership of the "G" project, and have been in unauthorized contact with the U.S. military.

Please respond to the investigation committee's summons within 24 hours.

She took pictures of every single last one of Birkin's exchanged emails while Leon just looked around for a moment. A workstation closer to the center looked like someone had been mid-experiment when things went south. Beakers and bottles, most of them still half-filled with chemicals, sat abandoned. A syringe lay on a cloth next to a tray of dark sludge, and for a moment, it was hard to tell if the stain beneath was part of the experiment or something worse. The wall looked like a desperate mind had been at work here. Papers, all of them riddled with frantic scribbles and stamped with Umbrella's insignia, were tacked up in a haphazard mosaic. Some hung limp, the corners curling as if trying to shrink away from their own contents, nearly all of them looking like they were crumpled first, and then picked up to be hung on the wall.

The operating room just beyond like a sarcophagus lit by a merciless glare. A massive surgical light hung from the ceiling, its cold fluorescence catching on the leather straps of the table beneath it. The surface of the table, damp with condensation or something worse, had the look of disuse—yet the straps still seemed worn, stretched thin in a way that implied they had held something writhing, not long ago.

To the left of the table, two robotic surgical arms loomed like a predator caught mid-pounce, its instruments gleaming sterile and sharp, monitors on the walls displayed dead screens, their glass either catching faint reflections of the light above or swallowing the shadows. Wires snaked from carts and consoles pushed into the corner, coiling like veins toward unseen power sources. One cart still had a syringe resting on its edge, the needle bent as though carelessly discarded.

But they had to hurry. The decontamination room they breezed through narrowed to a suffocating corridor of piercing neon, the rows of circular vents lining the side panels hissed faintly as they passed, exhaling an invisible mist that swirled in the fluorescent haze thoroughly drenched them. It opened into an empty, cavernous chamber that Leon didn't even have an inkling about why it would be there, until they passed through the walkway and he caught a glimpse underneath, seeing all sorts of tubes, glowing tanks and vats hanging over empty spaces in the lower levels of the place that resembled some sort of hangar. For what, he wasn't about to stop to find out. Their feet pounded softly against the steel mesh as they advanced, the rhythmic click of their boot heels echoing faintly off the domed roof far above.

And finally, finally they arrived at their destination, momentarily blinded by the unexpected attack of pure red in their eyes.

The source of the light was embedded into the walls on both sides—a pulsating grid of crimson arcs, each flickering irregularly, as if alive with its own inner rhythm. They washed everything in blood, making the white-washed interior seem diseased. It made the skin on Leon's face tighten and sting from the intensity, as if they were exposed to high levels of radiation.

Then he noticed the tanks.

Three enormous cylinders lined the opposite wall, each filled with murky liquid that shimmered faintly under the red glow. Leon's stomach clenched as he drew closer, his eyes narrowing to make sense of the shapes inside.

The first tank was filled with a floating mass of flesh. A bulging, bulbous monstrosity stared back at him—or at least it seemed to. Two grotesque eyes, red and bloodshot, were embedded in its swollen form, their unnatural symmetry making his stomach churn. The skin—or what was left of it—was veined and glistened in the viscous fluid like something half-formed, or half-decayed.

In the second tank, a severed arm drifted aimlessly, as though caught in a current he couldn’t see. Its skin was pale, almost translucent, and its flesh peeled away in patches, exposing tendon and bone beneath. A pair of grotesquely elongated fingers twitched slightly, though Leon told himself it had to be the movement of the liquid rather than some lingering remnant of life.

The last tank held something smaller but no less horrifying. At first, it looked like a chunk of tissue, unrecognizable—until she noticed the pulsating growths along its surface, expanding and contracting in time with an invisible heartbeat. A half-formed head seemed to sprout from one side, its misshapen mouth caught mid-scream, though no sound came.

A wave of nausea swept over him, and he swallowed hard, forcing down the bile that rose in his throat. He glanced at Vera, who had stepped closer, her camera raised as she peered intently into each tank. Her face was unreadable, but a faint tremor shook her hands, betraying her uneasiness. She then moved on to go through the computer, and Leon knew she'd found something when her camera was up to take pictures one by one as she flipped through documents.

At the far end of the room, they found what they had been seeking—a vial, its contents swirling, unmistakably labeled as the G-Virus. The bold red label seized Vera's attention as she reached for it.

Leon observed as her hand closed around the vial, and the moment she lifted it, alarms blared, even before he could utter out that was easy. The deafening shrillness was disorienting, lights flashing red, painting the room in chaos.

Their gazes locked, eyes wide, adrenaline surging.

“Attention,” an automated voice intoned over the blaring alarms, “Unauthorized removal of a Level 4 virus detected. Facility lockdown initiated. Self-destruct sequence will begin when lockdown is complete.”

Panic set in.

"What!" Vera shrieked, incredulous. "No way, I– I did everything right." She fumbled frantically with the computer itself, jabbing at buttons frantically as she scoured the screen in desperation, trying anything to undo this mess. Nothing.

"Don’t waste your time!" Leon commanded, reaching over her shoulder to catch her wrist. Her hand paused just short of another button. “We gotta move!” Leon shouted, grabbing Vera's arm as they pivoted and sprinted toward the exit.

Every second counted—the lab was beginning to rumble like a beast awakening from its slumber, pipes trembling in tune with distant whirs and thuds.

They burst out of the West Area, gasping for breath, but came to an abrupt halt before they could cross the bridge. Annette Birkin was charging towards them, with Claire right behind her, trying to hold her back. There was murder in the older woman's stare and determination written across her face that spelled danger as she barrelled closer and closer, pushing forward until Vera put herself in front of him. Leon immediately went on red alert and positioned himself by her side in case anything happened, ready to tackle her to the ground if needed because there was no way in hell he was letting anyone get hurt anymore.

Annette stopped abruptly in the middle of the groaning and trembling bridge, raising her gun at them, finger already on the trigger. "You either hand it over or throw it away! That virus isn't leaving the building!"

Leon drew his gun, aiming back at her, his focus locked on Annette's quivering stance. “Annette, don't do this! We don't have time for this!”

Vera, pressed against the railing, clutched the vial in her fist against her side, her gaze darting between Annette and Leon. The steel platform beneath them shuddered, the entire facility seeming to groan in protest.

"I won't let you cross over this bridge!" she snapped, stalking closer, her finger curling ever so carefully on the trigger. "Choose!"

Claire attempted to cut in. "This is insane—"

"They are working with a mer—"

Before she could finish, a gunshot rang out.

Leon flinched, his head snapping toward Annette, expecting to feel the impact—but the shot hadn't come from her.

Annette's expression twisted in shock as she stumbled, blood streaming from a gash across the right side of her chest. Claire's scream cut through the noise. Annette grabbed at the wound with a choked gasp, legs shaking weakly before she sank down to her knees, swaying unsteadily.

Her body going down revealed Ada standing at the opposite end of the bridge, pistol still raised. A heavy silence followed, broken only by the blaring alarms and the tremors of the unraveling facility.

“Ada...” Leon breathed, disbelief running through him.

Before he could fully comprehend what was happening, the double doors behind him and Vera exploded apart with a concussive force. The shockwave nearly knocked Leon off balance, propelling him forward. He barely had time to react before a monstrous claw shot out, seizing Vera with a brutal, crushing grip. Her scream pierced the chaos.

Leon spun around, horror washing over him. There, emerging from the shattered doors, was William Birkin—transformed into something monstrous, grotesque, almost unrecognizable. His mutated form strained to fit through the ruined doorway, like a deer futilely attempting to squeeze through a cat door, his massive shoulders wedged against the frame, twisting and cracking the metal as he tried to force his way through, his massive, twisted arm retracting, yanking Vera off her feet. With an almost casual flick, he hurled her across the space.

“No!” Leon screamed, his heart seizing in his chest. He watched in helpless terror as Vera flew through the air, her body crashing onto the bridge with a sickening thud. She skidded across the grated metal, the impact carrying her to the edge. Leon's stomach dropped as he saw her hands scramble, barely catching hold of the edge, her body now dangling over the abyss.

Claire who was kneeling by Annette's side and Ada on the opposite side of the bridge, immediately bolted towards Vera. Their footsteps clanged loudly against the metal grating as they sprinted. Claire dropped to her knees the moment she reached Vera, reaching down desperately to grab hold of her, her entire body straining. Ada knelt beside her, grabbing onto Vera's other arm, both of them pulling with all their strength.

“We've got you! Hold on!” Claire shouted, her voice hoarse, her muscles burning with the effort.

Leon tore his gaze from them, realizing what he had to do. William's monstrous arm flailed, smashing against the doorframe as he tried to force his way through. The sheer weight of the creature caused the steel to groan ominously, the bridge shaking under his relentless advance. Leon had to hold him back—he had to buy them time.

He took a step back, raising his weapon with a steady grip, aiming directly at the grotesque eyes popping up on the mutated William's body. The bullets tore through the decaying, mutated flesh, but Birkin's advance hardly faltered. Leon kept backing up and firing at the same time, but it only seemed to feed its rage.

The entire bridge shuddered, the groaning metal echoing louder. Leon kept glancing back in desperation, his heart pounding as he watched the others fight to save Vera.

“It’s… it’s giving way!” she screamed, and it almost made Leon stop shooting to go help the others.

“Not today!” Ada gritted her teeth as she and Claire gave one final, powerful pull. Leon looked back just in time to see Vera's body lurch up over the edge, all three collapsing into a heap just as a sharp, deafening crack reverberated through the space—the bridge beginning to give way beneath them.

“Go!” Vera urged, pushing herself back to her feet, her entire body trembling as she staggered forward, trying to regain her balance.

Leon turned his focus back to William just as another explosion rang out. A bright liquid blast hit Birkin directly in his massive, grotesque eye, forcing him backward. He let out an enraged roar, his massive arm flailing.

Leon glanced to the side, seeing Annette—bloodied, barely able to stand—holding a strange weapon, its barrel smoking. She fired again, and then again, each shot forcing Birkin back another step, his monstrous form wavering.

“Annette!” Leon shouted, rushing towards her, slipping on the slanted, unstable bridge before catching his footing. She didn’t respond, her gaze fixed entirely on William.

“Get… Sherry… out of here,” Annette rasped, her body swaying on her feet, her strength fading fast.

Leon reached her just in time as she began to collapse, wrapping his arms around her to keep her upright. “We go together!”

The walkway let out another shrill screech under them, bolts popping from their slots and flying out like sparks. The crevice was widening, chunks falling over the edge. They were out of time.

Leon pulled Annette up onto his shoulders in a fireman carry, staggering under her added bulk, ignoring the way her lab coat grew damper, sticking to his skin. She grunted in pain, clutching at the bullet wound. Another crack sliced through the chaos, even louder than before, echoing through the shaft, reverberating in Leon's very bones.

He managed to make his way to the other side, successfully maneuvering them over the gap to safety just as William finally tore through the door, starting to barrel towards them like a bull. But he was too heavy for the already fragile bridge, which crumbled under him and he fell through the bottom without hesitation and vanished from view into the darkness below with his roaring cry echoing through the entire facility.

"Mom!"

It was Sherry. She'd made her way down and was running across the catwalk toward them. Annette stirred feebly, trying to sit up. The little girl took her mother into her arms, clinging to her weakly, as Leon forced himself up, fighting off the dizziness threatening to overwhelm him, his entire body aching with fatigue and exhaustion. He swayed unsteadily on his feet, rubbing at his brow as he gathered his scattered thoughts.

"Mommy.... Please! You can't die, too!"

"Sherry...," Annette rasped, her breaths growing weaker. Her hand gripped Sherry's tightly, giving it a gentle squeeze and combing her hair at the same time. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Sherry."

The faintest smile crossed her lips as she reached up, stroking Sherry's cheek with the tips of her fingers. Sherry grasped her mother's hand in both of hers, tears streaming down her cheeks. A quiet sob wracked her small frame as she held her mother close, pleading with her to stay. Leon couldn't do anything but kneel by their side, his head lowered in defeat.

"Attention: Self-destruct sequence initiated. Use the Central Elevator to evacuate immediately to the bottom-level train platform."

Suddenly, he was seized in by the collar and pulled in. What Annette said to Leon with her last breath was, "Don't let G... get into the hands of that mercenary..."

Sherry buried within her arms and Claire comforting the little girl, Annette had stilled and toppled over with her vacant, pointed gaze locked on to Ada, who was examining the sample in Vera's extended hand. Nobody else seemed to catch Annette's slip, but it left him completely stunned, confused, and speechless.

What kind of sick joke was this?

Claire was mumbling to Sherry, prying her apart from her dead mother's body and making the girl hug her instead, "Sherry… Sherry… we gotta say goodbye to your mom. Come on. Please say goodbye. Please Sherry, listen… She loved you, okay? We really gotta get going… Come on."

Leon rose, his attention turning to Vera and Ada, both staring at each other, locked into a battle of minds while a tragedy was on fire right in front of him.

And Leon got it then.

Vera knew Ada was a mercenary.

That was what all of this weirdness had been about the whole time. All her impatience with him, the avoidance of complying with Ada's directions and digging her heels in, wanting to hightail it out of here once they reunited with Claire and Sherry, all of it clicking neatly into place like the last piece of a puzzle he didn't know he'd been working on all this time.

Vera had probably caught on from the first moment they met. That's just how she was. Already privy to knowledge he didn't have yet. Hiding shit. Keeping secrets. He was the idiot for thinking she would trust him now that he finally knew everything. It was a slap to the face to think that maybe, just fucking maybe, she'd let him in on whatever scheme she had going on against Ada after easily changing her mind about retrieving the virus. Maybe, just maybe, she'd want to work with him, to be a team, to share her secrets and her burdens. Like partners. But of course not. Of course, not. Of course, that wasn't the case. Because why would things ever be simple or straightforward in this hellhole? Why would anything be clear, and easy, and safe?

And he felt utterly betrayed. Betrayed by both of them; by Vera for not trusting him enough to let him know what the situation was and by Ada, for making him trust that justice was at an arm's reach despite the signs being there the entire time.

All this for such a small vial of godforsaken virus sample. How far would someone go for it? What exactly was in there that everyone was willing to die for it, fight for it like madmen?

He'd believed that justice could be rekindled from the broken remnants of where it had been buried somewhere inside the bowels of this cursed city, somewhere deep down where monsters festered like a wound gone sour from the husks innocent people had left behind. He'd hoped it was possible. So desperately wanted to cling onto that shred of humanity amidst the destruction.

It had been futile.

Before he noticed himself doing it, he had walked over to the two, seizing it from Vera's hand, the suddenness of the action leaving her stunned.

“Leon, what are you—” Vera started, but Leon didn't answer. He turned, his arm swinging back, and with all his strength, he hurled the vial into the abyss. The small glass container disappeared into the darkness, swallowed by the endless void below.

"What the fuck did you do?" Vera screamed, and Ada sighed.

She just sighed.

"No, no, no! You—" Vera was on him, her hands pushing him, forcing him back, her anger a hot thing. "—you fucking asshole! What is wrong with you!"

He was too shocked to respond, his brain scrambling to comprehend the change in her, the sudden violence of her reaction. It was unlike her, and that only fueled his confusion.

"That was your ticket out of here! She was going to get you out of here, you idiot!"

"Stop!" he cried, his hands coming up defensively to catch her wrists. "Jesus, stop! Calm the fuck down, Vera! We can talk about this!"

"Deal's off," Ada chimed in. She sounded tired, almost apologetic, which only made the situation worse. "I'm sorry it had to end this way."

"You can't leave them!" Vera's fury shifted, her attention snapping to the woman. She yanked her hands free from Leon's grasp and whirled on Ada. "You can't—"

And before anybody could react, Ada was jumping off, flinging herself off the railing with the grace of a cat, down to the depths of the abyss, a graceful, controlled fall. And just like that, she was gone. The shock of the sudden departure left the others frozen, their gazes locked on the spot where she had vanished.

"Attention: Self-destruct sequence initiated. Use the Central Elevator to evacuate immediately to the bottom-level train platform."

"Are you kidding me?" Vera exclaimed, her disbelief ringing in the silence. Then, in a flurry of motion, she darted to the edge, leaning dangerously over the railing. Her fist came down hard, striking the metal repeatedly in a frantic, desperate rhythm. “Ada!”

Claire, holding a distressed and sobbing Sherry, approached slowly, her hand reaching out tentatively. "Vera, we gotta go."

Debris was walling down the shaft, a result of the facility beginning to collapse in on itself. The self-destruct sequence was ticking away the precious seconds they had left to escape, each moment bringing them closer to certain doom. There was no time to stand and watch, no time to wait and hope for a miracle to save the day. But still, Vera stood, her form rigid, her grip on the railing tightening until her knuckles turned white.

"We don't need her," Leon insisted. His own emotions were a tangled mess, a cacophony of conflicting thoughts and feelings that he couldn't begin to untangle. But the one thing he was sure of was that their lives were more important than any deal or mission. They needed to survive, and every passing second was a step closer to annihilation. "We can make it on our own to that train."

A beam of metal crashed nearby as Vera, very uncaring of the world coming down on her head, said, "Ada said government's got this place surrounded. She was going to get you through the blockade if we got her the virus." She turned around to face him in a flurry of wild curls, her icy silver glare slicing through his defenses. She was shaking, her fists clenched and her posture taut like a coiled spring. "She was my best bet to make sure none of you got taken in and... and disappear to a black site or something! This was the safest way out, and you blew it. Fuck. Fuck!"

"Vera—" he began, taking a tentative step forward, his hand stretching out towards her in an attempt to placate her, something bothering him about the way she talked.

But his apology fell short, drowned out by the escalating rumble of the facility's impending implosion. A violent quake shook the ground beneath their feet, throwing him off balance and sending a shower of debris cascading from the ceiling above. Metal beams and concrete chunks rained down, narrowly missing their heads.

"Everyone, move!" Claire's voice cut through the disarray, her arms encircling Sherry protectively as the child's sobs grew louder, merging with the agonized roar of the collapsing structure. "Now!"

Leon had no time to dwell on the sting of Vera's anger or the weight of his own guilt. Survival was all that mattered. They rushed toward the elevator, his body moving automatically as he fought to compartmentalize his emotions, focusing solely on getting everyone to safety.

Suddenly, something heavy collided with him, sending him sprawling. His back struck the far end of the elevator, and he found Vera's bag in his lap. He looked up, disoriented, to see Vera standing at the threshold of the elevator, her hands on Sherry's shoulders.

Sherry stood frozen, her back to Vera, her wide, terrified gaze locked on Leon. Vera reached for the headphones hanging around Sherry's neck and gently placed them over her ears as Claire yelled, "What are you doing?"

Vera covered Sherry's eyes with her right hand, lifting her left toward Claire and Leon as if she were about to wave. Her bandages and glove were gone.

Leon saw it then. The bite around her thumb—a vicious wound, blackened and inflamed, the torn skin pulsating with infection, blood trickling down and staining the floor. A chill of horror spread through him, his heart plummeting.

"Oh..." Claire breathed.

Leon scrambled to his feet, the bag slipping from his lap onto the floor, but Vera only brought her infected hand to her lips, silently gesturing for them to keep quiet. Her eyes flicked to Sherry's head—a clear signal: don't let her know.

"Stay safe, alright? Don't let them catch you," Vera said softly. She pressed a button on her headphones, letting the music come to life, drowning out the noise of the collapsing lab and their further conversation from Sherry's ears. She nudged the girl gently into the elevator, her gaze unwavering as it met Leon's. "And don't look back."

"No," Leon heard himself saying.

"Please think of me once in a while," Vera said, her grin radiant even as tears filled her eyes, trailing down her flushed cheeks. Her long, dark lashes were wet, smile wistful and brave at once. Leon felt detached, as if watching from a distance, unable to comprehend how she could be the one trying to comfort him. "Thank you for being my friend."

The doors began to close, and Vera stepped back. Through the narrowing gap, Leon caught one last look at her—her sad, brave smile, tears streaking her face, the resignation in her posture, Marvin's gun glinting faintly in her hand beneath the flickering lights.

"NO!" Leon shouted, lunging forward, slamming his hands against the closed doors. He pounded the metal, again and again, trying to force them open. Panic clawed at his chest, his heart racing, but the elevator was already moving, the doors sealed tight. "VERA!"

"Leon! Stop!" Claire's grip was ironclad, her hand clamping onto his arm as she pulled him away from the doors, spinning him around.

Before he could regain his footing, Claire threw her arms around him, enveloping him in an unyielding embrace. She clung to him with startling desperation, her body pressed against his as if trying to shield him from the anguish. Her tear-streaked face hovered near his, her gaze holding his. Moments later, Sherry's small frame pressed into them, her face buried in Leon's torso, her hands clutching at him and Claire.

Leon wrapped his arms around them both, holding tightly as they trembled together—three souls trying to anchor each other in the midst of a collapsing, unforgiving world.

Hunk moved with calculated precision, his boots barely making a sound as they connected with the grated metal of the central elevator platform. His visor's HUD cast a soft, artificial glow on his face, the data feed marking his path through the chaos. The NEST facility was collapsing around him, the self-destruct sequence underway. Red emergency lights flickered, illuminating the metal corridors in a frantic strobe, and the deafening blare of alarms reverberated through the structure. Sections of the ceiling had already caved in, steam hissed from ruptured pipes, and the acrid scent of burning wires filled the air. His breathing was even, mechanical—a rhythmic cadence that echoed inside his helmet. It was a task, like any other, and he focused on his objective.

He had been trailing the group for some time now, tracking them through the labyrinthine sewers beneath the city. They were careful, resourceful, and had managed to evade direct confrontation, but Hunk was patient. He maintained his distance, keeping himself concealed within the shadows, waiting for the right opportunity. However, they had managed to board the cable car to NEST, leaving him momentarily separated. The subterranean maze of tunnels had slowed his pursuit, but Hunk was relentless. He had finally caught up.

He stopped at the edge of the central elevator platform, his gaze catching on the figure slumped against the base of the door. The harsh, flickering light above cast long shadows across the grated metal floor. His HUD scanned the area, the green outline forming around the body as the visor flagged it. There she was—the asset.

She was crumpled at the base of the central elevator, her body twisted awkwardly, her back pressed against the cold steel of the door. The pistol was still clutched loosely in her hand, its barrel resting on the floor. A dark trail of blood marked the metal beneath her, her head slumped to the side, revealing the wound—a single bullet to the temple. It had been quick. A final act of defiance, perhaps. Hunk had seen enough bodies to recognize when death had been instantaneous.

He knelt down, his gloves brushing against the still-warm metal of the pistol as he moved it aside, checking her vitals. There was no pulse, no breath. Nothing. Just another corpse among hundreds he'd seen tonight. He pressed two fingers to the comms unit at the side of his helmet.

"I've located the asset sir," he said, his voice flat, the distortion from his mask rendering it a hollow echo.

There was a crackle of static before the reply came, terse and to the point. "Status?"

"Deceased," Hunk responded. He paused, glancing down at the crumpled body, taking in the slack features, the blood drying on her temple. "Single GSW to the head. Looks self-inflicted."

Another moment of static. "Understood. The directive remains. Asset is to be brought back. Dead or alive."

Hunk didn’t respond immediately, his gaze lingering on the asset's form for a second longer. Then, with practiced efficiency, he holstered her pistol, slipping it into his tactical belt, and reached down. He threw her over his shoulder, her body limp and unresisting. She was light, almost fragile, like the weight of what she had gone through had already hollowed her out long before her death.

As he began moving towards the extraction point, Hunk strategized his route. He knew there were multiple paths in and out of the NEST—routes that he and his team had utilized when they ambushed Birkin for the G-Virus. He had mapped them meticulously, the knowledge of each passage ingrained in his mind. The direct path to the extraction point was compromised, blocked by debris from the collapsing facility, but Hunk was not one to be deterred. He considered the alternate route that would lead him through the lower maintenance tunnels, a longer path but one that offered more cover and fewer obstacles—

And there it was, a faint twitch, the smallest of movements where her arm brushed against his armor. He paused, his visor tilting down, his grip tightening slightly.

For a brief moment, the world around him seemed to quiet, the chaos fading into the background. Then, without hesitation, Hunk adjusted his grip and kept walking. Whatever it was—a spasm, a nerve misfire, the remnants of something unwilling to let go—it didn’t matter. Orders were orders.

#leon kennedy x oc #leon s kennedy x oc #leon s. kennedy x oc #resident evil oc #oc: vera kaplan #story: gravedigger #era: no time to die #and you know what?#leon kennedy x reader #i deserve this little treat for finishing this fic #LET ME HAVE THIS

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mandalhoerian · 9 months ago

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NO TIME TO DIE | leon kennedy x oc | 11

pairing: leon s. kennedy x oc word count: 1OK warnings: the girls are fightingggggg summary: Tensions arise. Leon thinks it's between him and Vera, but he doesn't expect to find himself out of the picture when Ada comes back into frame. author's note: i thought i was never going to finish this omg... but we're officially done with the sewers! nearly at the end of this work i cant believe it tbh

READ ON AO3 ! ☆ NO TIME TO DIE MASTERPOST

“Holy shit…”

“Ada!”

“How the fuck did she get in there—”

“We need to get her out.”

He was lucky Vera didn’t respond with, Yeah dumbass, and instead began circling the monitoring room they were in; bloodshot, yet sharp, intelligent eyes gliding through for anything that could help them out while he paced back and forth in front of the giant, rectangular window overlooking the pit of garbage — thinking, thinking.

Leon’s teeth ached from gritting them, the unconscious attention orbiting around his shoulder making itself scarce and bouncing around in his skull instead when he needed it to focus. Ada was a small blotch of red fabric on a bed of scrap down there, curled on her side with her back to them, a hand outstretched and the other tucked beneath her body. Identifying exactly where she was injured was difficult from the position her body was in. He could only assume she was unconscious from the rise and fall of her ribcage since they couldn’t get her attention from banging on the glass.

This was basically them observing her like she was an animal put on display in one of those glass cages in a zoo.

He rested a fist on the stainless surface, and pressed his forehead to the back of his hand, shutting his eyes. The pulsing, subtle pain wasn’t helping the thinking process, nor the panic chewing away at the back of his mind refusing to let him come down and focus. Chewing the inside of his bottom lip, he turned his head to rest his cheek against his curled knuckles and opened his eyes to glance back at Vera, who had her back to him, standing in front of some kind of control panel fixed to the wall behind him.

The cold chill in the air was sapping his strength as he reached out to her. “Anything?”

The demanding, impatient undertones weren’t supposed to be there, Leon wasn’t even aware some part of him was doing that to hide the frazzled pity party raging inside — at odds with the comfort of her always having some sort of solution no matter the situation, with the expectation she would somehow make the problem of retrieving Ada disappear.

“Map.” Not turning away to face him, she pointed to the wall right next to the window Leon was agonizing on, and then stopped whatever she was examining to walk over there, and ran her fingers across the board, tracing the blueprints. Not dwelling on his lack of environmental awareness, he perked up, lifting himself off to peer at it.

At first glance, it was confusing, but she made it easy to read. Somehow. “Right outside this place is the first floor of the treatment room. We were just on the upper level of it. See?” She jabbed her finger on the title at the top of the poster, and made a line downward. “Ada must have fallen from… there. They’re connected. Looks like they have a system to contain the trash gathered above and treat it before dumping ‘em in the incinerator, or whatever.”

“I don’t get it,” Leon sighed.

“Yeah, well. This isn’t a class. You’re good. Ada on the other hand… She got lucky landing right there so we can see her.” Her fingers dragged over the diagram, the chipped black nail polish contrasting with the white background of the chart. “According to this, we need to pass through that door over there. The U-Area is where the waste disposal opens to. And…”

Leon was already grimacing at the red lights surrounding the very obvious blockade in their path, looking more and more like a bank vault in his eyes. “Fantastic. Code again? Bracelet?”

Vera ripped the map off, hastily folding it while she crossed the path to the terminal, the crimson washing over her silhouette and making it glow around the edges. Leon also followed, with no idea what the neighboring sockets next to it were, trying to make sense of the three vertically paralleling panels side by side with slots in the middle of each one. Some had… chess piece-shaped plugs inserted in them. This designing choice. In a sewer.

He’d blame the hallucinations, except this was reality.

“I had a hunch.”

“A hunch,” he echoed, the insides of his eyebrows pulling together.

“Just, gimme a sec,” she dismissed with a playful clicking sound resonating from the back of her mouth, and pulled out a switchblade from her utility belt, shoving the end of the blade in between the front cover and the case of the biggest of the panels on the very left, just beside the vault door, breaking it open after wiggling the weapon in a circular motion. The metal came away with a soft clatter as it bounced on the concrete floor, other buttons and screws following suit in her careful prying to reach the circuitry.

He watched over her shoulder with great interest, the swiftness of her fingers fumbling around in the electronic guts and maneuvering around the wires. A true professional knowing exactly what to do. “So…?”

“Yep,” was all she said, finding something where he only could see plastic threads of different colors in a metal skeleton. “This is our guy.”

“Okay…?”

Vera did a double take on him, eyes appearing eerily red from the light as she pulled him away and got him to stand in the middle of the area for whatever reason, and he was dumbly obliged. “See those snake-wide wires from one station to another? Don’t they look like they’re connecting everything together?”

“Yeah,” Leon said, following the path she was following with her index finger.

“So like. Think of this as a very complex electric circuit. Maybe you don’t remember, it gets taught early I think? I don’t know which grade. Late elementary?”

Leon was one more outrageous misinformation from sputtering. “Physics. High school.”

“Ah,” she said, in the most monotonous, disinterested way possible, and shook it off, leaving him there to work on the big case again, burying her hands inside the mechanism of the contraption, and a loud pop was heard as a spark came off. Leon flinched at the sudden occurrence, and it didn't go unnoticed, judging by Vera's smug expression as she looked over her shoulder at him. “Anyway. Electric circuit. You know what to do with those. Wire it correct to turn the light on.”

“You make it sound so easy.” Leon would have laughed if it weren't for the current circumstances. “Isn’t that risky? If you fry the entire thing, we’re not getting through that door.”

“Good thing I’m not that much of a mess, right?” Vera replied, and suddenly jerked her hand away, the movement quick as she hissed in pain and stuck her finger in her mouth. "Ow."

"Careful!"

“Just a tiny pinch,” she muttered, sucking on her fingertip to ease the burning sensation, and Leon stood there, not knowing what to do and awkwardly struggling with himself over it. “Easy as I’m making it sound, this is gonna take a while.” She went down on one knee and shrugged off her backpack, searching the contents for something, not sparing a glance at him when saying, “You should do a thorough sweep of this place. We need anything we can get.”

He didn’t know what had him spaced out so much, the painkillers or finally being in a safe space where no need to look out for what lurked just around the corner, so, he only soaked the words in when Vera stopped whatever she was doing and looked as if she was awaiting something.

“You want me to go?”

"Are you sure you're not secretly a child and the sun didn't rise today for you to be able to do such a thing?"

“I—” At a loss for words, all he could do was open his mouth and close it for a comeback that wasn’t there, standing there like a huge idiot. “I mean, yeah, I could do that, it’s just—”

“Ada will be fine,” she interrupted, a tiny smile there as she took out some supplies from the bag: pliers, tape— “I’m on it. One thing at a time, you know? Or rather, many things at once. We gotta pick the speed up. Maybe you could try contacting Claire in the meanwhile? Marş, marş!”

He had a feeling that last part meant ‘Chop, chop,’ or something and not a type of wetlands, nearly offended at being kicked out. This was coming out of nowhere. Nevermind splitting up always causing more trouble than it was worth, leaving Vera with Ada in her condition was out of the question. The uneasy doubt made for an immediate objection and the offer of a better suggestion, but Vera beat him to it once more, “It’ll be fine. I know you don’t have a lot of faith in me at the moment, but—”

“Wait, what? No,” he burst out, the shock of it getting his body to move and stand right next to her, disbelief outweighing the constant, persistently annoying presence in his shoulder, having to look down at the kneeling girl. “That’s not true, this isn’t about that.”

He trusted her with his life, what was she talking about?

“Are you sure? Umbrella and all?”

Leon froze mid-inhale with the accusation, his hackles rising at the momentary pause that made it irrefutable on his tongue like a sweet turning acrid with the mention, and he bit the tip of it to swallow the bile, the saliva leaving a dry trail in its wake. She lightly scoffed as if this was all the confirmation she needed, and he hadn’t even said anything. The gray gaze veiled over with transparent red was steady and patient as she looked up at him under her lashes, the shine of it uncanny against the relaxed stance. The shadows of the room shrouded her, hiding her from the fluorescent glare of the artificial lighting, but Leon could still make out the details of her features, her jaw, the bridge of her nose, the curves and the sharp angles, the gleam in her eyes, all bathed in red, overtaking the pink.

He had to look away to sigh for a second, eyelids fluttering shut, and he scratched above his eyebrows to cover for the fact he was trying to rub the tension away.

The information she revealed had been shelved moving forward. For way too many reasons. One of them being too much to process, all things considered, with everything they’d been through; the near death experiences, the encounters with unholy monsters and zombies alike, and whatever else there was hiding in the dark. It wasn’t a conversation to be had lightly. Choosing to ignore it in the meanwhile was inspired by Marvin’s wisdom — don’t think, thinking slows you down, slow gets you killed. He’d embraced that willingly, because he could at least trust that she wasn’t out to get anyone other than Umbrella, and so far, she hadn’t proved him wrong.

So, it wasn’t about faith. It wasn’t about that at all.

It was about the tangled barn of yarn tied in knots with no hope of unraveling his insides that only a punch to his face would snap him out of. He didn’t know what to feel, but at the same time, things were coming at him with no name attached to them — all of which lacked any form like they’d stopped in the developmental stages.

Resentment was there, for being told half-truth, followed by guilt as an allergic reaction for harboring bitterness towards a friend, elevating sympathy for what she’d been through, a child used as a puppet in a scheme involving human experimentations. Something that cut deep at the knowledge she’d been aware all along. Admiration for her inhuman dedication to keep going. Incomprehensible. Unimaginable. Simply something out of fiction. Vera already had something around her from the start that emanated she was too brilliant to be real like some neon sign, and this had completely broken Leon’s reaction scale.

(Fear of having her run off with the evidence to save her own ass and abandon him. Prove his trust wrong like his superior did.)

And yet, “You saved my life. You’re still here. End of story,” came out of him unblinking, confident as a proven scientist. Three simple sentences sliced that tangled ball of yard in one go. “Page me if anything happens.”

Vera turned her gaze down, just nodding and offering a silent, “Okay,” and Leon started walking away, hand coming up to cradle his shoulder, feeling at the bandages and rotating his arm in small circles. The heat emitting from it was distracting, but he endured and pushed open the door, welcoming the cool draft despite the stink.

“Take the map,” she called out after him.

Leon caught the flying paper thrown at him with the force of a boomerang right in the nick of time, the sound echoing all around him. “Thanks.”

“A cable car?”

Only when his voice bounced back to him from the vast, empty space of the facility that Leon noticed he’d said that out loud, laser-focused on the Umbrella logo staring right back at him on the large vehicle. “Interesting.”

The single vagoned train-like structure was anchored to the platform, suspended in the air by steel cables, the rails above leading to the unknown depths of the underground area obscured by pitch black, intermittently illuminated by a spark of electricity running through damaged circuits where the lights ahead should be hanging from.

Now that he thought about it, metal and steel had replaced cement of the sewers infused with stool and piss the closer they got to this part of the complex, the stench fading and giving way to a more neutral, less offensive copper smell.

He had a feeling about the destination, but it was impossible to determine how long it would take to traverse the entire length, and the last thing he wanted to do was get on it and find out that it was a one-way ride or a trap waiting to spring.

Still, couldn’t hurt to take a peek, right?

“ID wristband required for cable car entry,” a robotic, female voice announced when he got closer to the door with a glowing green screen on it turning red upon his arrival.

Leon stared at his bare wrist, recalling Vera having snatched one from that uninvited zombie only able to have access to the corridor because he had it on him prior to turning. If they had any business with the lab, his instincts were telling him one of those bracelets would grant them the pass needed.

He was hoping it wouldn't come to that.

Digging deeper when you were already in a hole and needed a ladder to climb out was not a good decision.

"Vera, come in," He drummed his fingers on the device as he waited for an answer, walking the short length of the platform, staring at the orange and yellow signs warning about the danger of high voltage in the railways. "Found something interesting.”

“Yeah?”

“Cable car.”

“Uh-huh.”

Something made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and he whipped his head around to see nothing, but the feeling of being watched, being followed persisted. He moved further away from the entrance of the car and went to lean against the railing instead, observing the gloomy scenery. “Know what this is?”

“Is that rhetorical or you want me to answer?”

“Vera.”

She was strained from the signal cutting in and out. “It’s a ride to NEST.”

He gave a concentrated puff of air from his nose at the way she said it so casually. At one hand, the no-bullshit attitude was appreciated, at the other, he was caught off guard by the honesty — the normalcy of it.

“Is NEST the secret underground lab Ben Bertolucci was talking about?”

“Yeah.”

He expected more snark and less directness along the lines of, ‘What do you think the word nest implies, dum-dum.’ A headache was coming in.

“Ada’s heading there, then?”

The static on the other side was growing louder, her voice inaudible for a few moments as she fought to get the device to work. “Has to be. Cable car’s the only way to reach it. That I know of… Either that, or she’s looking for another route to get there.”

That’s the most she’d said about the topic. He dragged a palm down his face, fingertips picking up dampness along his brow line. “Got it. Anything else I should know?”

“About?”

He deliberately made what he said next sound dumb. “Well, whatever’s over there. More of those things?”

And he waited for the response as Vera mulled over it for a little. Option one was themed Leon not really needing to know. Option two was a jab about him not needing to since they wouldn’t be going there. Option three varied: duh, obviously, technically yes, or, probably.

Instead, she said, “Worse than that, I imagine.”

No joking around. Yeah. She was simultaneously saying nothing and everything he needed to know. This wasn’t doing any favors to Leon’s already anxious mind. “You could have lied, you know.”

Her chuckle crackled, broken by the bad connection. “Bit busy at the moment.”

The line fell silent afterwards, and Leon decided to not to push it further, leaving Vera to finish her job, closing his eyes as he went to hop on the table adjacent to the cable car with an assortment of papers, a computer monitor, and fliers scattered on the surface. Sitting down and flexing his shoulder helped to ease the tension, but the occasional flickering of the fluorescent lights above that washed over him and stuck a beam of ache right between his eyes definitely didn’t.

He absentmindedly picked one of the notes, expecting it to be about construction or technicalities, and was instead met with: Sally, Dad loves you so much. I’m coming babygirl. Wait for me a little longer.

The words were shaky and the ink had smudged in places, leaving spots, some of the lines so thick that the pen tore into the paper from the pressure. Leon peered at the date in the corner, only a week ago, and the ache in his shoulder and the heaviness in his limbs doubled. He wondered where the father had ended up, imagining him mindlessly wandering this underground maze, chunks of flesh dented in with teeth marks among countless companions who shared the same fate with a loved one's picture tucked in their breast pocket.

"Leon?!"

He whipped his head toward the originator of the shocked call, jumping down from the table and lowering the note gingerly, heartbeat accelerating. "Claire?"

"Oh my god!"

The relief that had him going weak in the knees was short lived, though. Claire was jogging up to him with Sherry cradled like a rag doll in her arms, a bundle of limbs trying to curl up on herself as attempts at soothing her were interrupted, and even from the distance it was uncanny how off her color was. Leon sprinted to meet them halfway there before he was even aware of it, grabbing the girl’s shoulders, checking her over for any bites or scratches.

He was afraid to ask, but did anyway. “What happened?”

The exhaustion weighing Claire down got to Leon’s radar then. “She’s infected with G.”

The tremors he felt underneath his palms transferred over to him as Sherry kept shuddering, breaths coming out in short gasps from cracked lips with barely a splash of color. He could hear her lungs clicking with each exhale.The warmth of her skin was searing to the touch.

He was so lost in the brief memory of little Emma that the click of heels closing in didn’t get through to him until it was too late.

“Step back. Now.”

Not commanding. Definitely not intimidating.

Armored misery was what Annette Birkin had spiraled into, pointing her gun at him with the hammer pulled back to reveal a shell in the chamber, knuckles white from the force of her grip and shoulders taut, a dark burgundy bruise on the left side of her face blooming on her cheekbone, the white of her eyes pinked from having shed tears beforehand.

Claire let out a heated yell, as frantic as Annette looked, half-shielding Leon with her body, Sherry still in her arms. “Stop! He’s with me!”

“He’s with that bitch,” Annette said in a correcting way, low and spiteful. He could only assume she meant Ada. “I’m not letting him anywhere near my daughter.”

“You already shot me once, and here I am.”

The advantage he took in hopes of smoothing down the tension had the opposite effect as the barrel of the gun pointed at him shook with Claire’s outraged, “What?! She shot you?”

Annette shook her head, lips thinning before they parted. “It was a warning shot. Wasn’t meant for him.”

He put his hands up, slowly, practically seeing the bristles raising on Annette’s back like a dog. “Aimed at an FBI agent. Good for you I got in the way.”

He didn’t know if her huffing laugh was genuine surprise or a sarcastic scoff, but it didn’t matter when her hands didn’t move an inch to indicate letting up, the steel of the barrel catching the intermittent spark of light from above like a taunting. “FBI? FBI.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat, the bead of sweat trailing down from the back of his neck to his spine was the drag of the tip of a knife to his senses. “You might want to reconsider your choice of enemies,” he tried, voice coming raspier than he intended. “I understand your reaction. I’m sure in these circumstances, she’s willing to forget about it until we get out of here. We all want the same thing.”

Annette shifted on her feet, briefly glancing at the suffering little girl when he nodded his chin in that direction. The veins in her neck bulged as her jaw clenched, breathing slowing. Unshed tears that would have escaped if she blinked filled her eyes, and she turned her head away, refusing to look any more. She gestured with a cock of her gun for Leon to step away. “Before I change my mind.”

Claire started to protest. “Don’t do this Annette—”

“Please, I’m not the enemy. Listen. Put it down, let me help, and then I’ll do anything I can to put you in the best possible position to—”

“You listen to me, boy. Stop wasting my time. You have no idea what you’re doing, who you’re protecting, or what you’re risking by getting in my way. I’m putting the next shot between your eyes the moment you open your dumb mouth again. I have a child and a city to save. Make your choice now.”

With a deep exhale, he carefully stepped aside with his hands up, clearing the path to the cable car's closed doors, and Annette slid on the floor towards them, not daring to take her eyes off him. The lock glowed green as she came closer, and she didn't need to lower her weapon as she took advantage of it to slip inside the safety of the capsule.

"Get in," she called to Claire.

Claire sent a pleading look to Leon standing a few feet away, and he couldn't do anything but remain there helplessly as she scurried in after bracing Sherry to hold her better, peeking at him over her shoulder in the last second to mutter, "Sorry."

“Not your fault.”

Her eyes shone with sincerity. “She said she can cure Sherry.”

Leon’s lungs were a balloon deflating at that. “She can?—”

“Yeah. So, take Vera and get out of here. Don’t follow us. We’ll be okay.”

And to his sinking horror, Claire wholeheartedly believed what she was saying.

Annette cut in, not caring to elaborate any further on what little context Claire provided. "I'd take her advice if I were you."

The door shut with a muffled hiss, leaving him on his own trapped in a state of shock and confusion, the telltale beeping of the lock mechanism signaling his defeat. Leon was rooted where he stood, in a daze locked on the car disappearing from sight with the speed of a snail, continuing to observe the eerie darkness that slowly swallowed it in pitiful curiosity.

Eventually, he turned around and trudged through the platform, barely aware of his movements, each step that carried him away from the now empty station stretching the fragile string holding him together thinner.

Taking the map in one hand and the radio in the other, he numbly thumbed at the buttons as the map crinkled, the creases fresh and symmetrical. “Vera, come in.”

It was faint, but he heard the radio buzz. “Everything okay?”

Better to rip the bandaid off in one go.

He drew in a ragged breath, his mouth tasting like cotton, his pulse pounding in his ears and he could feel it in his fingertips, could feel the sweat gather on his hairline and his clothes clinging to his hot body. "I..." He croaked and cleared his throat, wincing at the sudden noise and how the sounds clashed in his skull. "Bad news, Sherry got infected. Good news, Annette can apparently fix it. Claire's with them on the way to the NEST right now."

The lack of reply was normal in his opinion, he waited until he heard the crackling of what he assumed was sputtering breaths. “Jesus fuck. What the fuck.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I know.”

“How’s Claire—I mean—”

“Just. Tired.”

“Are you going with them? Did Annette—”

Leon wiped at the dampness on his forehead with the back of his hand. "No, no, I... I wouldn't be able to go along even if I wanted to. Annette didn't want me there."

He was going to add, ‘I wouldn’t leave you two behind like that,’ — but Vera’s immediate, “Because of Ada?” derailed his train of thought.

“Because of Ada.”

“How nice of her to give a fuck about you like that.”

“She didn’t shoot me this time.”

“What a character development,” she said, he could picture the roll of eyes that came with it, but didn’t feel like laughing or bantering at the moment at all.

“Listen, um,” he started, unable to hold back the words anymore, and they came out as a bundle of words that didn’t quite know their turn, spilling from him in an anxious mess. “I… This— cure. It could be cured. G. Do you think… Did you know…”

What he meant was: Did you know we could have saved Marvin if we were faster? Has it been weighing on you all this time? Can Raccoon City be saved after all? Did this many people need to suffer if they had a cure all along? I can’t stop thinking. I can’t stop thinking.

Her, “Fuck off,” made his spine so straight he thought a rod had gone through his esophagus. So sharp and cold it was a slap to the face, heat shot up from his neck all the way to the tip of his ears, the sudden rise in temperature scorching his shoulder. “My dad would still be here if I did.”

Good thing nobody was there to see a grown man go beet red from shame.

He bit down on the inside of his cheek, a metallic tang flooding his mouth as his teeth pierced the flesh. He stared at the tip of his shoes, itching to somehow be able to walk away from the conversation. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he apologized softly. “I’m sorry. I was just. Sharing? I guess…”

Could have worded it better.

“Ah.” The sigh through the receiver was long and spent, the long stretch of silence having him wonder if she cut the line off or not. “My nerves are on fucking pins and needles, I—”

“It’s okay,” The tension in his shoulders and back dissipated, and he took a deep breath to wash out the remains of mortification that settled on his palate. "We’re good—we’re good, right?”

“Yeah,” she sniffled. “Yeah. Of course.”

Eager to change the subject, he rubbed his fingers together, the material of the fingerless glove wrinkling with the motion. “I can’t believe they had a cure for G-virus lying around, everything could have been—”

“They don’t.”

Leon stared ahead, focusing on a random safe sitting on top of a table at the end of a catwalk, and a dead body propped up against the railing beside it. “What do you mean they don’t?”

The bitterness of her laugh cracked into the void of the transmission. "G isn't the strain raising people from the dead, or making those dogs rabid. It's what made William into that thing. You still remember what Claire read to us, right?"

“Yeah..?”

“The… zombie virus is a different thing. Fuck if I remember which letter of the alphabet they named it. But G, it's something else. Something new. It's no wonder people who made it have an antiviral agent lying around. Can't exactly test shit without a control group."

He didn’t get the difference at all. It was all the same in his eyes, the maker of abominations.

"Zombie virus is a different thing," he repeated, ignoring her remark about testing viruses on living subjects, "I thought it was all the same? But Ada said—"

"I know what she said," Vera interrupted him, and Leon had to stop himself from getting on the defensive over the hostility that wasn't even directed at him. "Either the FBI are misinformed or she was just saying things to satiate our curiosity. Classified information, yeah?"

"We should tell her if she doesn't know."

"If," She emphasized. "No point in trying to get more involved otherwise. Not our business."

“You’re still saying that?” It very much was their business. Claire, Annette, and even Ada before told them to walk away, but he wasn’t going to. He couldn’t. Who would after coming this far? “We’re past that point already. We might even be close to ending all of this, and— Jesus, don’t you want definitive, undeniable proof? That’s where we’re going to get it. A lab, Vera. Fingerprints of Umbrella straight from the source. Come on.”

He was tired of playing it logical and safe when it was already obvious they were headed down this rabbit hole. Time to dive in with their eyes open.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there," was all Vera commented before she dropped the subject, her voice taking on a lighter sheen. "I'm almost done, by the way. Don't go too far."

"Sure," he agreed, easily, the knots in his stomach unwinding. "See you in a bit."

Leon felt like he was caught in a never-ending loop of the same repetitive steps. Discover a new area, open the gate, get swarmed by zombies, lose a bullet, stack up on supplies, get swarmed by zombies, get up, walk forward, find a safe zone, rest a while, find new stuff, set out again, open a door, get swarmed by zombies, press his back to a wall, reload, open a door, walk, get swarmed.

At this point, he wouldn't be surprised to see the exact same room he saw a mile ago with a path leading to another hallway in the same shape. There was no telling where he was going, just blindly trusting the instinct to go and go and go, and when it didn't feel like it was right, his gut screamed at him to turn back and take a different road. The map Vera threw at him for this very reason remained crumpled and useless in the back pocket of his pants, the scribbles and the drawn routes all crossed over each other, the network of routes resembling a child-designed maze as they all somehow led to the waterways waist-deep with sludge and trash and decomposing corpses, and he wasn't about to take a dip with his open gunshot wound anytime soon.

On the brighter side of things, he was now more or less familiar with the layout of the facility thanks to his adventures and Vera's colorful additions, getting better at evading, conserving bullets and the damage to his uniform and equipment. It was the downside of using guns - the ammo consumption being the biggest factor to keep in mind as they kept becoming scarcer and scarcer to find. He needed to be careful with his shots from now on, and only use them on the creatures that were a little more threatening and dangerous than the standard fare, but that didn't mean it was any less frustrating when he still came out of situations with a handful of shallow wounds, especially ones he was supposed to be more skilled at avoiding.

"Status update, Vera, how is it going?" he asked for the second time in the last twenty minutes, the impatience dissipating after he opened a locker to reveal a body that didn't belong in the small space, crouched in all the wrong angles and stuffed in there by someone by the looks of it, the missing flesh of his face rotting with green blotches on the purple skin. He averted his eyes and instead focused on the pallor of the undamaged portions of the cheek and the vacant blue pupils, the corpse's features revealing it belonged to a young man, no older than him.

In one of the earlier conversations, she’d given him the best news he received so far in this shithole: Ada was awake in there, and Vera had gestured to her they were working on a way to get her out.

The last few times, though, with the weight of Ada’s mortality off of their shoulders, she’d gone on technical tangents with all the eloquence of an electrician he was too unfamiliar with engineering to understand that at this point he thought finding the right plugs for the sockets to open the door would be easier instead of trying to rewire the whole thing, resulting in conversations such as: "what's this wire to do?" "pump energy to the relay" "what does it do?" "relays the power to the circuit breaker." "so what's the purpose of that?" "the circuit breaker?" "yeah." "it breaks the circuit so it doesn't blow up and fry the cables when it reaches its max wattage." "great. what is the circuit we're supposed to break then?" "are you being serious?" "...yes."

Which resulted in him receiving a, "Fuck off," in the end.

Not that he minded.

This time around, he expected a barb to deflect his insistent jabs, mock annoyance or a promise of bouncing back faster than lightning, but what he received was the uncomfortable crunch of static followed by silence, the monotonous drone of the open line indicating she was listening.

"Hello?"

He pressed the button of the device in hopes of making the sound clearer, his other hand splaying open in front of him in a confused gesture.

More crackling, a soft hiss, a mumbled curse. "Shhhhit," she hissed, followed by a clatter of metal like she tossed a screwdriver. "You piece of shit, where did you go?"

He checked around the corner he'd previously cleaned up just in case, his shoes squeaking as he rounded the sharp turn and peered into the darkness with his flashlight shining the path ahead, and hurried across the corridor. "Need help?"

"What are you gonna do, hit it with a rock?" The slight amusement in her tone was drowned in more rustling and groaning as she struggled to do something. "It's fine, just—it slipped, gimme a sec. Sorry, I—" Her voice broke off mid-sentence. "Stop distracting me, go away, you're making it worse!"

Was that directed at him or at something else? He stopped at the next turn, a door blocked by a trash container next to a rack of lockers, and was met with nothing but the unappealing, wet squelch of the sole of his boots in the puddle of blood next to an old fire extinguisher. His skin prickled as he leaned closer to check around it, only to be met with an empty hallway, a blackboard fixed on the wall with the letters H E L P emblazoned across it in chipped red paint.

"AAAAAAAA!!!" Vera's screech echoed in his ear. He'd gained the ability to distinguish between serious screams and irritated ones, so it didn't make him jump but he winced from the sheer volume, rubbing his free palm against his aching shoulder as he tuned back into her rambling. "You fucker! No, not the other one, the one— I got it, I got it! Ha, suck it up!"

A puff of air left Leon's nostrils. "Aren't you a ray of sunshine?"

Vera took offense in that, her offended gasp as she scoffed made it more comedic than dramatic. "Says the guy who keeps calling me every ten goddamn seconds like a needy little puppy."

"Oh, sorry for being worried, I guess. It's not like you're wide open for anything that comes through the door or anything."

"Do I look like I'm asking for a rescue party?" she drawled.

A chuckle left him in the form of an amused huff, the tension in his joints easing up. "Like you came across cockroaches."

"I hope you slip on one, asshole."

"Wouldn't be the worst thing to happen to me today."

Her next words came out nasal and muffled from what he assumed was her cupping her nose and mouth with the back of her palm. "Eh. That honor is probably mine." The mood changed like a switch that was flicked on and off again, she coughed a few times, and he heard her pat the front of her shirt and take a deep inhale and a shaky exhale, and then the radio went quiet. The shuffling of clothing rustling through the speaker was the next thing to indicate she was still there. "And on that note, I got the door open. Heading downstairs to get Ada out."

"Huh?" Leon looked at the pink walkie-talkie as if it personally insulted him. "No— wait for me, you can't go on your own. Who knows what's down there?"

"I do. It's fine."

"We've been through this, you know..."

She laughed, a nervous titter. "It's just a door."

And what she didn't say out loud, he heard as an echo. What could go wrong?

The unannounced, jinx-sent Birkin fight left them both traumatized from getting trapped in a burning control room with no other choice than to play whack-a-mole with the giant monster's claw as the hammer, followed by having to strategize like it was a turn-based RPG not to get thrown off the side of the platform while one played the bait and the other handled the crane controls to send container after container hurtling back to knock the mutated William into the abyss — because there was nothing else left to do other than getting him off their back. No fighting this thing.

And get rid of him they did, one crate at a time until the man was completely out of sight, the only remaining evidence of his presence being the last of his shrieks fading to black.

"Just a door, huh," Leon breathed out, panting and staggering forward on wobbly legs to wrap a steadying arm around Vera's middle before she fell over on the side in front of the crane controls.

She pushed him aside and full-on laid down on the ground, belly-down, starfishing under his open-mouthed amusement. "Just a fucking door," she wheezed, the backpack that somehow had survived the whole ordeal made her look like a turtle. "If that son of a bitch pulls a Terminator I'm nuking him. I swear to god. Sorry to Sherry but I can't do this anymore."

He rested his hands on his knees, crouching in the shadows of the massive construction machine, and gazed at the infinite expanse of nothing but a pitch black sky, the stench of sulfur around them filling his lungs. The wooden flooring of the platform creaked beneath him as he shifted his weight to settle on his backside, dropping next to her, a relieved hissing out from his lips.

There was no way for him to even begin to comprehend how Vera was feeling, her hands visibly shaking next to her, her hair an untamed, frizzy mess, the rips on her fishnets tearing apart more with the friction and she was absolutely covered in all sorts of stains from the dark patches of soot to the splatters of blood, her sweat seeping through the fabric.

He rolled over to mess with the outer pockets of the bag, looking for some kind of snack to bring her blood sugar back up, and found a chocolate bar that he guessed was a lucky find. Vera's mane of hair grunted when he handed it over, a deep frown on her face that scrunched her nose, her eyes cracking open enough to show the whites of them as she snatched it from him and wolfed it down.

After swallowing the last bite, she said, "Thanks."

It was funny to see her muching on it with a grimace of pain as she moved her jaw and chewed, and he watched her as she got back on her feet with the grace of a baby deer and extended a helping hand. She ignored it and stood on her own, slapping her palms together to dust the grime off, and he took her example to wipe at his dirty cheeks.

"We're not going back the way we came," Leon pointed out, stepping towards the edge of the platform to look up at the large crane that hung over the gap, Birkin's previous assault knocking down the scaffolding along with the metal walkway and leaving them with nothing to cover the bottomless pit.

"We got that door." Vera sounded drained, the lack of energy in her voice enough of an indicator. He understood her sentiment.

Leon couldn't stop the jab from coming out, taking out the map from the back pocket of his trousers. "Let's hope this door has something better in store than the last one."

"What a thing to say about Ada!"

He had a long way to go before winning a verbal sparring match against her.

"Huh," he hummed, the sizable paper in his hands bending backward and folded in half as he studied it more closely, the creases etched into the lines and contour of the tiny rooms and hallways. He found the right spot and began pointing out the structure with his finger. "This opens straight to the U-Area."

"No way, let me look," Vera squinted as he held it up for her, and he saw her gray irises flicker from the right to the left in a rapid back and forth, a fleeting brush of her shoulder as she got up close to peer at it. "Huh."

"Told you," he said. "Let's go."

"The fair damsel awaits," she sighed, no doubt talking about the agent, and wiped at the sweat dripping into her eyes from her fringe, combing it in place with her fingers. The ends of her hair were burnt and curled inward from the fire they'd narrowly avoided, smelling of smoke, the blackish curls reminding him of the stray cats he often spotted walking down the street next to the cafe where he used to grab a morning coffee from before classes, the thin furry bodies wandering around the alleyways and looking for scraps of food to eat.

A bit too eager, she began marching towards the opposite direction of where they came from, her steps not quite as surefooted as he was used to seeing her stride with such confidence, the exhaustion showing as she hunched over in an attempt to catch her breath. Leon fell into a slower pace next to her, keeping an eye out for anything that could possibly jump out of nowhere as he switched the gun's safety off, ready for combat, and scanned the surroundings with his flashlight to guide them through the narrow stairway going up.

"I can't believe power's still holding up," she observed after seeing the green light blinking above the garbage disposal door while Leon pulled down the lever, the mechanism whirring to life as the shutter lifted upward, revealing piles, no, hoards of trash, cans, broken glass and boxes scattered around with pipes and the walls colored in an assortment of mucky brown. The stench that permeated the air, a combination of rot and dirt and something so pungent his nostrils burned with the smell, made him gag, but he managed to hold it back to spare himself the embarrassment of coughing his lungs out, covering his nose and mouth with his sleeve instead — Ada had been stuck here for god knows how long.

Ada.

Forgetting about the odor, Leon rushed in as he pictured the image of her, surrounded by filth, and he was caught up in the whirlwind of relief and panic and urgency of going to get her, the exhaustion forgotten. "Ada? Ada, where are you!"

"Over here!"

He pivoted at the sound of her voice coming from somewhere near, spotting splatters of blood on the floor that was once white and gray and now the color of rust, finding Ada hiding herself between two mountains of garbage leaning to the wall, and didn't recognize her at first glance. Her trenchcoat was gone, leaving her in a short, flimsy cocktail dress, supporting her body weight by her hands on the floor, the leg a metal piece was sticking out of facing up. The put-together, clean appearance of hers was no more, she was covered in grime just like they were, and in the dim lighting her exposed limbs were shimmering with sweat.

He ran to her as fast as he could, squatting to check the extent of the injury. "Ada... I was getting worried there for a sec..."

"Oof," Vera grimaced behind him, hands going to her knees as she bent down by her waist, her hair swinging over her head and pooling in front of her face. "That looks nasty."

"How do you think it feels?" Ada quipped, a bit dry, and gave Vera a tight lipped smile, though Leon wasn't sure if she meant it in an insulting manner or as a joke. "I can't get it out."

Leon looked at her thigh, and back at Ada. "I don't know if we should..."

"Just do it. I can't walk like this."

Vera knelt on one knee next to her and tilted her chin to the side to inspect it from a different angle. Ada didn't seem to appreciate the attention but tolerated it with a quiet acceptance, watching Vera as she continued to look, but Leon was the one who blurted out, "Don't touch it!" when she reached for the metal piece, stopping in her tracks, fingers hovering over it.

"The hell," Vera exclaimed, backing her hand away as if she'd burned it and looking up at Leon standing over them, her eyebrows arching.

"Antiseptic," he explained, positioning himself behind her for better access to her backpack, pulling out the bottle of isopropyl alcohol and the roll of bandages from the bag. Vera stared at him for a couple more seconds before she seemed to finally catch up, then nodded in understanding and took the materials from his open palm as he handed them to her, "I take it out, you disinfect and bandage right after."

"Sure thing, boss."

His cheeks flared up in response to the nickname, his heart jumping up to his throat at the acknowledgment, but it all washed away when Vera nodded at him to go on, the teasing forgotten for a more pressing matter, and he went on to take care of it as gently as possible, all the while being hyper aware of eyes on him as he worked to take the metal out in one go. Ada kept her expression impassive, her back ramrod straight with a fist resting on the knee of the healthy leg, only a hiss of discomfort escaping through her teeth as the shrapnel slid out of her flesh.

Vera's touch was surprisingly gentle despite her usually brash demeanor, cleaning the area with a soaked piece of cotton to get rid of the dried blood and disinfect it, humming under her breath at Ada's reaction letting her pain show more than before. She tied the gauze with a deft knot, sealing it in place, and began packing the things back into her bag.

"Can you walk?" Vera asked, holding up a hand for Ada to take it and pull her up, getting a firm nod in return. Ada brushed herself off, her legs not entirely steady as she took a few experimental steps, the heels of her pumps clicking against the concrete floor.

Leon noticed a few drops of blood sliding down from the piece of metal and dropped it on the floor. "So... what do we do now?"

"We?" Vera paused for a moment, like she hadn't expected him to phrase it like that, and looked back at the other woman.

Ada shook her head. "Get yourself out of here. While you still can."

"I'm — we're not just gonna leave you. Not like this," he protested, gesturing at the bloody rag on her thigh, out of worry and confusion and maybe some lingering sense of responsibility that made him feel like he'd be betraying Ada if he simply up and left, especially after everything that she's done for them. She was a capable person, true, it just didn't feel right.

"You don’t understand. The situation’s worse than I thought."

Vera scoffed, crossing her arms. "Right. How're you going to get out of this shitpit exactly? After we leave?"

"I can take care of myself."

The other girl didn't have to say anything, making a point just by openly staring with eyebrows up all the way to her hairline, making a face that expressed what she thought about that statement.

"I don't know what your objective is, but you need to listen to your own advice," Vera continued, as if Ada had never said anything. "That leg isn't gonna get you far in this condition."

The look she received was one that said they were at an impasse and Ada was considering it, the tilt of her head and the way her mouth parted to say something made Leon think they were actually going to cooperate with each other and make it work, only for her to break her gaze from Vera and fix him with a stare that sent shivers down his spine. "Good thing I have you two, then, huh?"

Leon brightened up, a bit proud and happy to have some sort of resolution, even though he could feel the daggers Vera was trying to drill into the side of his skull without saying anything. He chose to ignore it, thinking that this was a win-win, because really, Ada finally letting them help when they were obviously going in the same direction? Why would that be bad?

Vera was as stiff as a board, but turned to lead the way, taking a step to walk past Ada as she did so, giving her a polite nod and nothing else.

Leon began to follow her, but not before he noticed Ada's eyes following her, a contemplative look in them that disappeared as soon as Ada's focus landed on him, making Leon wonder if he saw it correctly at all. "You still want to help?"

He nodded fervently, spirits soaring. "Of course!"

"We have to get to the NEST. It's—"

"Umbrella's lab, we know." He shared a look with Vera, somewhat content with himself to let it be known they were on the same frequency with Ada. "That's where the G-virus is, right?"

Ada's eyes narrowed, a missed beat in the way she answered. "That was easy to deduce, I suppose."

"Yeah." There was no need for distrust to come between them, so it was an easy confession. "And Vera's a private investigator, she already knew about Umbrella before this started."

He caught the girl in question mouthing his name in anger, teeth clenched shut, looking like she wanted to cave his head in, not understanding where the anger was coming from.

Ada turned her attention to her. "Is that so? What kind of a PI?"

"The kind that gets snitched on, apparently," Vera glared daggers at him, her nose wrinkled, nostrils flaring as she let out a scoff that was aimed at him.

"Come on, she's FBI. No harm in her knowing," he dismissed, hoping she wouldn't press it further and chew his ears off for this. Vera made a noncommittal noise that he didn't know how to interpret, but she didn't voice out any objections, so he thought they were good, at least for now. "We're together in this. So... NEST?"

The agent ignored him, however, "How much do you know?"

"Enough," Vera answered, clearly wanting the subject to be dropped.

"About?"

"Am I being interrogated, Agent?"

"Depends. Is there something you're hiding?"

Vera stepped closer, her demeanor shifting. "There's a lot I'm avoiding, let's leave it at that. It's been like that for a long while, and will continue to be so until I get what I came for. For the greater good."

There was no answer coming. Instead, the silence that followed was so thick with something that it made his hairs stand on end, goosebumps rising on his forearms. Something was happening between them he didn't understand. Ada was scrutinizing her with an intense glare, something fierce and calculating flashing in her eyes, a bit intimidating, but Vera returned the gaze with such a ferocity in her own, challenging Ada to call her bluff and say something else.

And she did. "Okay," Ada agreed, with the hint of a smile in the corner of her lips. "Then, for the greater good, shall we?"

Leon didn't know what he was supposed to be expecting. Maybe a proper introduction, a clear outline of the plan, a friendly chat. Anything, really, but this sudden shift in atmosphere, it was suddenly very hot in the room. Like something else was going on other than getting to NEST, like they had history.

"O...kay," he muttered.

"This tram is bound for NEST. Do not exit until the final destination."

Leon stared at the speaker attached to the ceiling of the vehicle as he pulled down the lever to get it moving, Ada and Vera already inside, the latter of which had her arms crossed and was glaring at the ceiling as if she wished to smite it, not noticing Ada's observing gaze that followed the way she fiddled with the digital camera she'd just used to record the outside of the cable car to catch the Umbrella logo on it, or the way she swayed and pressed herself to the wall as the tram began to move. They were sitting next to each other on the bench, Ada's injured leg stretched out, and she had to be feeling uncomfortable, but didn't let it show.

"You know what I was thinking?" He started, heated as he tried to start a conversation, anything really to get rid of the tension hanging over their heads. "I can’t wait for the FBI to raid Umbrella headquarters and take those bastards to justice."

Vera leaned back after setting down the still recording camera to face the window of the cable car, her hair hitting the metal of the wall with a soft thud, the muscles of her throat straining as she gulped down and closed her eyes.

" I agree… but to be clear, you’re not working in official capacity. This is a federal case." Ada stressed, the sharp tone of her voice making Vera snap her eyes open to look at her from under her eyelashes. "Once we get the G-Virus—"

"We?" asked Vera, for the second time tonight, turning her head to meet Ada's gaze that was unreadable, filled with some emotion that made the space between her eyebrows pinch.

Ada's eyes darted away to stare at the floor, and she sat upright to avoid further eye contact. "Yes," she admitted, a bit strained, but it was genuine. "I thought I might need your help… and I was right. If you can secure the G-Virus, I can make sure what happened in Raccoon City never happens again."

Vera was surprised at the offer, and she gave it some thought before she replied. "I'm not risking any of our lives for that stupid virus. We're not some disposable assets. Finding Claire and Sherry comes first. You can deal with the rest as you wanted from the start. On your own, that is."

"No, wait a minute," Leon objected, shaking his head as he turned to look at Vera. "I want to do something. Umbrella has to pay for what they've done. You heard her, she's with the government, she can take this to the media, the whole country — the world. With what we have, all of this, this is not something they can sweep under the rug. Please, let's help her get the virus. It's important."

She shot up from her seat and grabbed her backpack, going for the camera next to stop the recording. "God, no," she huffed, the calmness breaking to reveal how frustrated she was with everything that happened. "Claire and Sherry are more important than the virus. And you're not putting their lives on the line for something that's not guaranteed—"

"I'm not putting their lives in danger."

"And yours doesn't matter?"

"It does, but," he gestured with his hands in a hopeless motion. "I mean, I signed up for this when I applied to the RPD. If it's for the people, then—"

She scowled at him, and he hated the disappointment on her face, her eyes darting back and forth over his face, as if she was searching for something that wasn't there. "It's not worth it, Leon."

Ada watched their exchange like a tennis match, staying quiet, and he thought she would interject, but she didn't, choosing to see how things played out instead.

"How can you say that?"

Vera clicked her tongue, and his stomach sank, his chest growing cold. "The fucking G-Virus isn't the reason why RC went to shit, I told you already," she said, and something in the way she spoke sent a chill down his spine.

He wondered why she was being so defensive. Was there something she knew that he didn't? Again?

It wasn't the first time.

He shook his head and pursed his lips. "Even if it's not the direct cause, it's definitely a part of it. All that experimenting on people, all that bloodshed. The police, the entire city, my fellow officers died trying to keep everyone safe. The civilians. Us. You saw that little girl," he pleaded, his heart sinking lower when she averted her gaze from him and focused on the screen of the camera, fidgeting with the buttons. "I'm doing this for them. Even if I have to die for it, then so be it."

Vera sucked in a sharp breath and didn't look at him. She didn't agree to anything, or argued, just stayed silent, a hand reaching out to take her headphones out of her bag and slip them around her neck, turning away from him and bringing her legs up to sit on the bench, faint rock music filled the air. He knew there was no use in pushing, and she wouldn't change her mind no matter what, but the cold indifference, the blatant refusal of wanting to do anything that she disagreed with made him mad. He understood where she was coming from, that she was concerned with getting the younger girl to safety and probably wanted to forget about all of this and get as far away from it as possible, but he wanted to fight it. To do something. Make a difference, however small. It was naive and probably short-sighted, but he needed to do it.

With a heavy heart, Leon looked back at Ada and saw the corner of her lip quirk up in the faintest of smiles, her chin in the palm of her hand.

#leon kennedy x oc #leon s. kennedy x oc #leon s kennedy x oc #resident evil oc #oc: vera kaplan #era: no time to die #story: gravedigger #resident evil x oc

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mandalhoerian · 11 months ago

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NO TIME TO DIE | leon kennedy x oc | 10

pairing: leon s. kennedy x oc word count: 12K~ warnings: COCKROACHES. gunshot wound. blood summary: A lie never lives to be old. author's note: bit anticlimactic, this one. i hope you enjoy anyways!

READ ON AO3 ! ☆ NO TIME TO DIE MASTERPOST

The headless chicken they were after Ada's disappearance, it took the duo a while to map out the T-junction, and the process was made even worse by talking each other's heads off, mainly because Leon acted like a little boy who lost his mom in a mall, and kept calling out for Ada's name while jogging around mindlessly, hoping his shouts would bring her back home, or whatever the fuck.

Of course he didn't understand Ada hadn't strayed off. She had left. Without a word of goodbye, no mention of anything to them beforehand, simply gone in a flash, vanished out of thin air. No different from how she waltzed into their lives in the first place.

Surprisingly, Vera reacted to it how she would to being ditched at a night's out with the girls, instead of losing her fucking shit like Leon. The problem was probably her in this case for her lack of reaction. But what was she supposed to freak out about, exactly? A woman wanting to go her own way? Which was understandable? Was it concerning? Well, maybe if she was a normal person instead of a professional, but this was also an extenuating circumstance, and Vera really couldn't care less about Ada's intentions or reasons as long as it didn't affect them, and it didn't seem to be.

Emphasis on seem.

It was definitely affecting Leon.

One would think she had been abducted right in front of him, and Vera definitely had become fucked up in the head after everything, because she wanted to laugh in his poor face. Ada was absolutely fine. She would go unscathed from this, with the FBI gifting her a spa visit in Cabo after her success. Vera on the other hand needed at least a year of therapy, or maybe a decade in a mental institution to recover from the trauma.

"What the hell. Where could she have possibly gone? It doesn't make any sense." He complained loudly, voice bouncing off the walls, echoing in the empty space, the same question he had repeated like a parrot at least five times. "Ada!"

Yeah, okay, Vera had enough.

"Okay, hold up, will you?" She yanked his arm backwards, causing him to stumble to a stop and turn around, eyes wide open in surprise, flitting to her hand holding onto him, then back to her face, the slightest twinge of red dusting on his cheekbones. "Are you trying to call out all the undead to our location? Because it's working, and there's going to be a zombie stampede headed this way at this point. You see that elevator shaft?" Still holding onto his elbow, she pointed to what she was talking about with her free hand. "They'll be raining down from there."

He stared at her with an incredulous expression on his face, mouth opening and closing, until his shoulders slumped, sighing in resignation. "Sorry. You're right, I just—"

"You're worried. I know." Vera let go of him, and crossed her arms behind her back, standing straight and rolling on her heels, shrugging nonchalantly, plastering a grin on her face to dispel any tension lingering. It was tempting to double down on him by pointing out that calling out for her in that hypothetical scenario was equal to a baby bird in a nest screaming for his hunting mother with a mouth awaiting food. "But it's an FBI agent we're talking about, she can hold her own."

His gaze was trained on her for a few seconds before shifting away, looking everywhere but her. A companionable , short silence settled over them after that, save for the occasional buzz of the air conditioning system powering the generators scattered throughout the complex and Leon's intermittent huffing. "Yeah, but... It doesn't sit well with me when it comes to abandoning people who might need help..."

Leon was... legitimately ashamed, hunched slightly forward, brows drawn together, the puppy dog look he always seemed to unintentionally sport when upset. He was going to be the death of her. "Trust me, she doesn't need our help," she replied, flinging her arms out with a dramatic flourish. "You're not abandoning her, just getting out of her hair. She left for a reason, Leon."

A snort of amusement. One he let out with zero conviction. "Sure."

Vera chewed on her bottom lip, digging the toe of her boots into the ground in a timid manner. Did he have to sound this sullen? She didn't know how to handle these kinds of situations. Emotional shit wasn't really her forte, not unless she was in the same position. And she was never good with words — and still wasn't, after being supported so much by him.

It was awkward. Vera wanted to give Leon a pat on the shoulder or something, but that was crossing the line and would make everything even more weird. "Listen. You know who truly needs your help? Sherry. And even Claire. We have each other, but she's on her own out there. They're our priority."

Leon inhaled a deep, shuddering breath, raising his head up and locking eyes with hers. The sheer intensity of his stare, the storm brewing beneath, was almost intimidating, she would be burned by his gaze. His voice was firm, resolved. "You're right. Let's get going."

"Lead the way, officer."

This was the Leon that was worth the hype, Vera decided. Leon when he was in the zone, focused, driven by duty and morals, doing what he thought was the right thing, no matter what, ready to face whatever challenge lay ahead with confidence and assurance. It was something to admire, especially when he wasn't the type of man who showed off.

"You wanna find out where that pipe leads to?" Leon asked, tilting his head in its direction and pointing a finger.

As they drew closer to the destination, the distant sound of machinery powering on, buzzing and grinding in tandem echoed off the walls, followed by a distinctive squeak of rusty metals that was definitely leaking in from the giant ventilation tunnel Leon was talking about. Leading up to it was a single metal ladder hanging off the ledge, offering the duo a chance to climb up to investigate further, and this time, there was no dilemma - Leon hopped onto the rungs, testing each one individually to ensure they wouldn't buckle, and Vera waited for her turn, bouncing on the balls of her feet in anticipation.

That was before it was revealed that a horde of cockroaches was waiting for them up there.

"Ah, Jesus!" She swore, stumbling back at the sight. Leon joined in too, also cursing.

One of the insects chose that moment to crawl on her boot, and she kicked it away with a panicked yelp. There might or might not have been an embarrassing scream that put Leon's Ada-call to shame. "Fucking shit, ughhh, whyyyy," Vera complained loudly, face scrunching up as she covered her nose with her elbow. She could cry. She could fucking cry.

"Well, at least they're not zombies," Leon quipped.

Oh, shut the fuck up.

Vera didn't dare breathe through her nose, afraid she would puke at the overwhelming smell of ammonia and alcohol, which were mixed with an acrid, coppery scent that caused bile to rise up to her throat, burning the insides. If one cockroach touched her, she was going to lose it. The tunnel was filled with at least a hundred of them, and they were either scuttling around the floor or clinging to the sides, creeping out from underneath the cracks. One of them could fucking fall on her hair and she would legitimately pass out.

It was the worst sight she could imagine, the very embodiment of nightmare fuel. It didn't take much imagination for her mind to conjure up images of a dozen cockroaches crawling up her limbs and inside her mouth and ears, which she quickly tried to shake off physically as she whined, shaking both her hands around after having to put away her Samurai Edge so she wouldn't accidentally fire away in her panic. "Oh, sweet hells. Ughhhh, okay, okay, okay. Alright. Let's just run. Let's run to the end. I'm literally one step away from having a fucking seizure."

Leon cocked his head to the side, not at all affected by this whole ordeal. How did he not break a sweat? Vera wanted to push him into a bed of roaches, see how he'd fare.

He was about to say something, probably make a joke that was funnier in his head, but she didn't stay for that, sprinting straight down the path with the biggest leap of faith she had taken since ever, ignoring Leon's startled shout from behind as she dashed past the critters as fast as she could, not stopping to gag at the crunching sound below her feet.

At this point, her disgust of a concert hall of cockroaches trumped the fear of dying and turning into one of those things. At least if she got attacked and turned, she wouldn't have to experience the torture of having them chew at her flesh.

How she made it to the end, Vera didn't know, but her heart was hammering against her rib cage, lungs on the verge of collapse, she was probably yelling all the way there too to expel all the revulsion inside her too. The aftermath of that little marathon was practically the day after a major workout session, except, with more horror involved. She wasn't even paying attention to her surroundings after jumping down to safety without checking for a ladder to climb down or whatsoever, too busy catching her breath as she hunched over with her hands on her knees. And when that was done, pacing around in circles while shaking her arms was next, and it wasn't long until Leon came into view and she latched onto both his arms like a koala, the jitters making her jump up and down.

"I hate bugs. I hate bugs so much. Ugh. Ughhhhhhh! Eww. Ughh!" She rambled, feeling him tense under her touch, his body going rigid. Rubbing her fingernails up and down the outside of his arms was doing wonders in getting rid of the crawling feeling. "I'd rather fight ten zombies at once than deal with those."

Vera could almost swear she heard the smile in his voice. "We'll stick to that then, alright?"

When she pulled back, a tiny smirk adorned his features, despite the tiniest bit of red in his face from what was probably having to run after her. She nodded, still scratching the vest, the pace of it getting less aggressive. "That would be awesome. Just round them all up and feed them to each other. Should be easy."

The laughter that escaped Leon's lips, this time, was genuine, and Vera was delighted to hear the sound — a bit husky, but boyish and infectious. He stepped back, gently prying her away from himself, and even though nothing about it was curt, Vera felt the heat spreading to her face, only now realizing she had basically cuddled him up and got away with it.

Her hands returned to her side like a whip. "S-sorry, I just..."

"It's fine," Leon reassured, averting his eyes and clearing his throat. "No offense, but that was definitely a sight to behold. Who knew you could run that fast?"

No witty retorts were made on Vera's part, at that moment, all she was capable of was an entertained huff, and a light slap with the back of her hand to his chest as she turned away, promptly coming face to face with an unconscious body of a man lying face down on the floor.

"Gghhk—! What the fuck!"

That made Leon actually laugh.

Creeping forward hesitantly, she nudged the body with the tip of her boots. "Was he here the whole time?"

"Guess so. Maybe he got caught off guard by those bugs and fainted, who knows?"

Vea clicked her tongue, groaning at him. One slip, and now she was the butt of all the jokes — Leon of all people was making fun of her. Great. "Yeah, yeah. Go on, get it out of your system."

Her curiosity was piqued by the small backpack the man was carrying with him, the item in question slung around his upper body. From her vantage point, she could only see it was packed with something, and she stepped to the side to crouch beside him and flip him over.

"Hey," Leon's tone was colored with concern, approaching Vera with caution and holding his shotgun tightly, readying himself in case this guy woke up in a bad mood and took it out on them. "Careful there."

Vera leaned in, bending her head to get a better look. "Look at all that ammo. This is good stuff, what the heck is he doing with all this?" She whistled in approval. From the jumpsuit and the location, this was a sanitation worker, likely abandoned in his duties when shit hit the fan and then spent his time hiding. She took it upon herself to salvage as many useful items as she could, she opened his pack to gather up his findings — namely, the shotgun shells and 9mm bullets, painkillers, a half empty box of magnum ammo, and a pouch with some emergency gauze. Vera immediately started gobbling up one of the bars of candy from the bag, grabbing a bottle of water to wash it down with as she emptied the contents into her pockets, letting Leon take the rest.

The last object to be found was a photo, crumbled from being inside the pocket of his pants, but with some effort, she flattened it and flipped it over to examine the contents.

A family in the picture, on vacation by the looks of it, beaming at the camera. Two children stood in front, the oldest appeared to be in her pre-teens, with long dark brown hair and a sly smile that could rival Vera's. She was wrapped around the waist by her younger brother, a little boy with a huge gap between his front teeth and messy auburn hair. He was flashing a peace sign to the camera with the most mischievous expression she had ever seen, and the image of a perfect family unit was completed by the father himself, his blue eyes twinkling with mirth as he grinned down at the two kids.

Vera gave nothing away as she also took that photo, and put it away in a secure pocket in her backpack. Her brain was clean of any thoughts as she did it, driven only by a twinge of breathless longing, a fleeting desire to preserve, as if this was her vacation and the kids in the picture were her siblings.

Leon didn't say anything about it, observing her movements but not questioning them. Vera didn't owe him an explanation — she didn't have one in the first place.

With that done, they moved on, the lack of undead on their path having created a false sense of security that crashed and burned the moment they opened the next door in the form of multiple guttural groans and the signature moaning, along with shuffling feet.

Peeking through the narrow slit of the gap, both Vera and Leon could barely make out the forms of the creatures staggering around, and Leon raised his finger to his lips, signaling her to get back and retreat. They closed the door silently, communicating solely via eye contact and hand motions to form a plan.

A nod.

Leon was going to lure them and show the way with his flashlight.

Another nod.

Vera was going to shoot. No need to waste any shotgun ammo. Aim for the knees and then go for the head.

Third nod.

Leon slid his fingers in through the crack and counted down. Three. Two. One.

Container room. This was a container room.

The fluorescent lights weren't working above as she spun in circles, surveying the area. Stacks of pallets, forklifts, metal boxes and other heavy equipment she was too unfamiliar with in the corners of an endless maze of containers, with a few elevated walkways, but that was about it. She also took note of the random objects that stuck out: a couple of crates to their far left, some yellow barrels that definitely should not be lit on fire, especially not in close quarters. In any other circumstances, she would be very fascinated, wanting to pull apart the machines and test the functions, but that was not the time for any of that. They didn't have the time for that, to begin with.

An upstairs of some sort ended up to be the only way out of this, neither of them thought it was worth it to explore the nooks and crannies, the presence of half a dozen undead was proof enough they would waste their time looking for just another dead end.

After that, it was relatively quiet for a while as they progressed onwards through a passage with a glass window, leading to an area with a busted, giant ventilation fan with enough space between the blades for a grown person to squeeze through, and surely enough, she could see a path to something down there.

Propping the butt of his gun on the fan's lower blade, treating it as a railing, "You think Ada went this way?" Leon mused.

"It's between the locked door down the other way and this. Or a secret third thing," Vera added, peering into the darkness that swallowed up everything in view, eyes trying to adjust to the lack of light. It was pretty dark inside, and there seemed to be nothing but more vent tubes leading into tunnels. It smelled less sewer and more industrial exhaust in here, a burnt odor filling her nostrils and irritating her senses.

"I don't know..."

"Doesn't hurt to try." Vera shrugged, turning back to look at him with a grin. "Just go ahead, I'm right behind you."

"Alright," Leon mumbled, kicking off the fan to hop over it, landing on the platform below gracefully, without missing a beat. Distracted by watching him, she bumped her head to the blade above, causing her to flinch and step back, rubbing the sore spot on her forehead.

"You okay?"

"Yup, just a tiny bonk."

"I can catch you if you're scared."

He was getting comfortable with the banter. If it was another man with a more inflated macho ego, he would be accused of trying to flirt, but Leon was too innocent for that, and she wanted him to be able to throw barbs at her so she could counteract and return it in kind.

"Nope, my childhood self would love this," Vera continued, smiling and tucking a strand of stray hair behind her ear. "We're practically in a giant bat cave. That basically stinks." The final line was muttered as an afterthought.

He looked over his shoulder, obviously confused with how he should react, the slightest twitch of his lips made it hard to determine if he was amused or disturbed. "Didn't you just complain about the cockroaches? Now you want to add bats to the list?"

"I'm really going to literally jump you if you keep going on with that," she grumbled, not in the mood to get into that topic. Her grip on the steel tightened as she pushed herself up, throwing herself over the gap, and there was a split second of weightlessness, where the adrenaline rushed and her stomach dropped to the ground as her legs flailed in the air. Then she landed, kneeling down with a grunt, and the impact reverberated all the way up to her thighs.

A hand was held out in her peripheral vision, and she glanced up to see Leon hovering above her, and Vera almost wanted to slap it, but took it anyway, letting him help her up. She made sure to get in his face by tugging his arm downwards to her height, smirking, enjoying how flustered he was getting. It was the ephemeral joys of messing with Leon that she wanted to milk out for as long as possible.

It got interrupted by a woman's voice trickling in from afar, the echo reaching them as fleeting whispers. Leon's head shot up, and Vera whipped around, her entire frame rigid from the shock.

The voice sounded like Ada's, and she couldn't make out what the exact words were, but she could tell for certain, the FBI agent was somewhere nearby.

However, Annette's answer was much clearer as she answered, "You'll never get your filthy hands on G."

Leon let go of her to whirl around, and the movement brought Vera out of her daze as she refocused, watching as he brought a finger to his lips in a signal to be quiet, and motioned towards a pathway, and Vera nodded, following his lead.

They climbed up a rusty metallic stairwell and sneaked up to the source of the voices, hiding behind the side of the container like it was a wall, the shadowy silhouette of Annette Birkin visible at the far end, standing before what looked to be a closed garage door with yellow tape on the ground framing the entrance, warning any personnel to keep out.

And too fixated on Ada who had to be behind the door and inside that metal container, Annete wasn't paying attention to anything else, continuing with, "Then you won't die alone."

There wasn't even any time to take in a surprised breath before a buzzer rang out, and a rectangle of flickering orange lit up Annette's face, accompanied by a mechanical whirl from within the sealed door, the grinding of gears as the mechanism inside the container powered on.

It dawned on Vera as Annette started walking away, her heels clicking with purpose.

"You locked her in an incinerator!" Leon exclaimed, anger coloring his tone as he stepped forward and revealed himself, triggering Annette's flight response.

"Shit!" She followed, forcing herself to get out of her stunned state by bolting into action and bringing the Samurai Edge up, aiming at the middle of her back and firing once. It wasn't intended to kill her, Vera just wanted to get her to stop, or at least delay her escape.

She missed on purpose, the bullet hitting the sliding door the woman opened with a bracelet around her wrist, and her yell of alarm pierced the air. She didn't turn around to try confronting the two, managing to slip away as Leon slammed into the door, rattling the entire thing in the frame.

"Goddamn it!" He groaned, pounding a fist against it.

Out of instinct, "Upstairs!" Vera yelled to inform Leon, not stopping to discuss with him as she flew past and headed up the stairs right across the incinerator, finding a single lever among the different types of controls, buttons and switches. It was surrounded by electrical cables and wires, with one end of it leading into the floor, and she grasped onto the handle, pulling it down, and a low rumble resonated from the mechanism, a generator powering down, and the faint glow of the flames streaming through the metal blinds dimmed out.

"Did it work!" Vera called out, panting as she ran back to the door to see if it worked. It wasn't open yet, and Leon had resorted to opening the rectangle latch on eye level to peer into the room, knocking on the barrier to get her attention.

"Ada!" He yelled, tapping on the door rapidly with a flat palm.

"I'm fine!" Ada responded, voice muffled as it seeped out from the crack, but clear and loud, meaning she was in good condition. "Just get this damn thing open."

Relief instantly made her a thousand times lighter, she could fly away, and Vera released a shaky exhale, her shoulders dropping.

"Give us a second."

Vera knew exactly what to do, turning on her heel to jog back up to the control panel she was working with just seconds ago, and pressed the button to her far left that turned on a green lamp to life. There was a button underneath it, and she lifted the cover to push it down, and the beeps from the keypad-like lock beside the switch could be heard as she did so. Another rumble, louder and more violent, followed suit as the door's status changed, and the blinking of red changed to white, the humming of the motors increasing in volume to a high pitched whirr.

"It worked!" Leon confirmed, and Vera bounded down the steps, breathless from ricocheting back and forth downstairs and upstairs in such a short amount of time, coming to a stop to wait for the door to open. She bounced on the balls of her feet, licking her lips to get rid of the dryness in her mouth and wiping her sweaty palms on her black jean shorts. The hot wind blew in her direction, blowing strands of hair across her face and exposing her neck, the distinct smell of burning plastic assaulting her senses.

It was a bit longer than she anticipated, with the metal doors finally giving in to gravity's pull to reveal a clean hallway, no signs of fire or smoke at all, and then there was Ada, looking disheveled with her bangs sticking to her damp face, and soot all over her trench coat, but she was alive, unhurt, and most importantly, breathing.

Vera didn't realize how nervous she was until Ada emerged, the second wave of relief flooding over her senses, a rush of warm liquid, making her boneless as she watched the older woman stumble out with Leon's supporting hand on her back.

She couldn't hold back the sigh escaping her, running her hands up to her hair and pushing it back, the black curtain parting to reveal she was flushed all the way to her hairline as she walked over to her, a giddy, light sensation in her stomach, a bubble of happiness she was afraid to pop, afraid it was all just a dream she would wake up from at any moment.

"Want some water?" She blurted out, and her words were a bit breathy from the adrenaline in her veins.

"Don't mind if I do," Ada replied, raising her chin to accept the offer. Vera shoved her hand inside the backpack to get out the bottle, uncapping it with practiced ease with one hand.

Before she could do so much as get it to her face, Ada grabbed her hand, taking a generous swig, the angle allowing for droplets to trickle down her jaw and soak the collar of her shirt. Her gaze met Vera's as she drank, and Vera, for some reason, felt her heart drop all the way to the floor, freezing in place, a deer in headlights.

The first few drops of water trickled out the corners of her mouth, dripping onto the smooth column of her neck, disappearing behind the scarf around it. Ada withdrew to release an exaggerated gasp for breath, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. "Much appreciated," she said, passing it back, the lingering warmth on the plastic ghosting across Vera's skin like a caress.

Vera's cheeks grew hot, her mouth parting slightly to collect some oxygen to her brain, the upturn of her lips weak, wavering as she forced herself to be calm and collected. "Yeah—you're welcome."

The reply was delayed, her attention divided between her inner struggle and Ada, and the woman in question herself smirked, knowing she caught the effect of her actions on Vera as she brushed past to join Leon, who was staring at them with what he thought was discreet observation.

"Good to see you in one piece," he remarked, sounding friendly and casual, as if they didn't just bust her out of an incinerator.

"It takes more than that to bring me down."

"Speaking of," Leon started, folding his arms over his chest. "What the hell was that? Why would she—"

Ada didn't give him time to finish as she cut him off, stating firmly, "Umbrella doesn’t want anything getting out. Not the truth, not what they do, and definitely not what they make."

"Sherry's mom works for Umbrella?"

It wasn't the lengths Umbrella would go to that surprised Leon, not even the fact that Ada had almost died for it, Vera concluded. Leon had to have already witnessed similar things or worse during the course of the night, to not be shaken up by all of it. His speechlessness stemmed from Annette's connection to Umbrella. And what an idiot Vera was not to anticipate this reaction. It was a mistake, Vera felt the coldness spreading as if her blood froze, ice crystals growing in her veins, creeping to the ends of her nerves.

W.B. is William Birkin, she remembered blurting out. With no evidence whatsoever, a statement thrown in the wild she expected Leon would eat up, and accept it as her randomly connecting the dots out of the blue, his brain doing the rest of the work by itself.

"Exactly," Ada confirmed, not taking her eyes off him, but Leon's entire attention was on surveying Vera's reaction as she sweated under his stare, refusing to meet his gaze and feeling it bore into the top of her skull. "Umbrella's top research scientist along with her husband, William Birkin, who's also responsible for all this. The G-Virus."

Leon remained silent, the suspicion that was bubbling under the surface he didn’t bother hiding leaking out. She could almost hear the gears turning in his head, processing the information, chewing over it, mulling over what was presented and drawing conclusions for himself. All the while staring directly into her soul, and Vera almost cracked. Almost.

It was when the silence turned unbearable that Leon spoke up, his voice gruff, "We better get moving, then." He broke his gaze and turned to the other woman, leaving Vera to breathe, the coldness dissipating in a wave of heat.

Vera was a bug under a microscope.

He knew something was wrong and that she was privy to it. He had already begun distancing himself, putting a thin wall between them that would grow thicker and thicker, the more he found out. And what was more was that Vera was aware he had caught on she knew more than she led on. He hadn't figured it out completely, but he was closing in.

"I'm telling you two again, you should get out of here." Ada repeated, for the umpteenth time, but the only response she was graced with was Leon shrugging, nonchalant and unaffected by her concern, and Vera shooting her a glance. "You have your answers. Forget about Raccoon City. Forget about the Birkin girl. Go back where you came from, and never look back."

The authority and conviction in Ada's tone made the hairs on Vera's back stand, and her spine straightened, a shudder raking up her body, goosebumps exploding on her skin, every muscle tense, every fiber of her being screaming in protest, a deep crease forming between her eyebrows.

Leon gave no indication that he agreed with her. "Not a chance. We can't abandon that little girl to deal with all this on her own."

"Then, the moment you find her, we go our separate ways," Ada announced, cold, unrelenting. "I've risked enough as it is, and so have you."

His silence was damning. Vera wasn't stupid, she knew why. Her stomach sank and she felt hollow inside, the emptiness gnawing at her guts, the walls of this maze caving in on her as Leon faced the road ahead and walked with Ada by his side, the two of them moving together seamlessly, no hesitation, no falter in their steps.

So Vera trailed after the two, but in that moment, she knew that this was it.

The candle she was holding had finally reached its end, and all that was left of it was the wax.

Ada now had a similar bracelet to Annette's, the door Leon had previously slammed into opened with a beep, a digitalized sound that echoed in the large, open hall, the corridor extending in front of them.

"Visitor clearance confirmed. Your ID is authorized until October First. Please return before this date."

The concrete was crumbling and falling apart, revealing the pipes beneath and the wires peeking out from the holes in the structure, with the familiar green, artificial glow, the lights from the ceiling providing the main illumination to the hall.

This entire area was humid, and she could feel the condensation on her face. Not only that, but they heard the sounds of water flowing from ahead, a river coursing through the halls, and Vera could swear she felt the vibration of it from the ground under her feet. The sheer size of this underground labyrinth was a testament to just how big this place was, and she couldn't help but wonder, how far had they dug this place to have it built this expansive? How much resources and time had Umbrella poured into this operation that the city above was going to shit and people were dying on the streets and this laboratory was thriving and expanding with each passing day?

The answer was obvious. People's lives didn't matter to these corporations, there were thousands of nameless, faceless numbers whose death wouldn't affect the bottom line of the company. She had done the math before. All those disappeared kids. All those missing families that didn't exist and would never be found because Umbrella made them disappear, and then would turn around and play hero, use their money to save the children that mattered, and then whisk them away to create even more subjects, and it was an endless cycle.

That was the point. That was how it all worked. It was a miracle she was freed from that system, if it wasn't for her father, she would be right where she had been born, taken out once in a while to be injected with new experimental serums to find out their effects on a child, and then sent back to her cage. And then disposed of, once her body gave up, used up by the age of ten.

She felt low for not telling the truth to Leon and Claire, but all of this... It was too much—

Bang!

"Ada, watch out!"

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Her eyes snapped open from the train of thought, and Leon had been the first to react, tackling Ada to the ground from the bullets fired, saving her from death yet again. She could see the metal rain pelting the concrete wall, spraying debris everywhere and kicking up a cloud of dust.

Vera stayed glued to the wall swerving into the corridor the gunshots were coming from, while Leon and Ada were still lying on the floor across from her to the opposite wall, and Ada hissed from being crushed underneath him, struggling to push him off.

It stopped as abruptly as it started, Annette's voice ringing out, "This is my final warning. Next time, it will be a bullet to the head!"

Then with a beep and a mechanical click, she was gone.

Leon rolled to his side with a pained groan, and Vera saw red—

She was in front of him in an instant, leaning over to pull his upper body upwards, the man yelping from the sudden movement, clutching his left shoulder and gritting his teeth.

"Is this the part where you yell at me for being reckless?" He asked, in an attempt to diffuse the situation.

She would have laughed in any other circumstances, but no. "Go!" She whipped around to face Ada, who was already propped up on her elbows, watching with a mixture of emotions. Vera tried her hardest to hide her shaking. "Don't let her get away!"

Ada was stunned at first, but Vera saw her eyes harden, the fire dancing in the brown irises as she got up with a grunt. She didn't go the way Annette did, moving instead to a separate direction, disappearing from their view as she slipped through a fire exit door, and Leon tried to push himself to sit upright, only for her to push him back down, making him lie down on the cold ground.

"Don't fucking move," she commanded, her tone leaving no room for arguments, but there wasn't any malice or hate in it, no disdain for his recklessness or that he almost got himself killed for Ada, just the ice cold of dread that pooled deep in her stomach.

This was the second goddamn time.

Him crumpling to the ground as Irons shot him square in the chest in that parking garage was playing in her head over and over again, it didn't matter he had a bulletproof vest on, in Vera's mind, he'd died on the spot. Shell-shock had smoothed her brain for any logical reasoning, blood visible or not. Irons was there. Irons had shot Leon. Irons had killed him. It was enough for her to shut down.

She couldn't believe this was even worse than then.

Blood was soaking through the uniform and his fingers, staining her hands as she pried it off the wound, a part of it sticking to the moist skin, the edges of the torn fabric glued to his flesh. Red was blooming on the stained, gray concrete, and the liquid was seeping through the cracks. There was an exit wound. The bullet had pierced through. She just didn't know what. Just the meat of his clavicle? Did it shatter the bone?

It could be just the deltoid, maybe, she was grasping onto hope.

God, there was so fucking much in the way, the short-sleeved uniform, the undershirt, the vest—

Her hands were slick, her fingertips slipping against the saturated fabric, trembling too violently to untangle the straps of the Kevlar and unzip the vest to open it. "Leon," she whined, voice shaking, her head swimming from the stress. She was panicking, she knew it, the tears were burning in her eyes, her vision becoming blurry. "Leon, I need you to sit."

"You just said not to move—"

"Fucking sit up!" She shouted, finally succeeding in removing the vest, pulling it over his head and discarding it on the floor beside them, hearing the metallic clink of the shotgun shells and spare mags on the hard floor. She immediately felt like the shit that felt just at home in these sewers, biting down on her lip, swallowing thickly and blinking the mist away. "I'm sorry, I'm so, so, so sorry."

Gritting through clenched teeth, she didn't wait for his reaction before wrapping her arms around his torso to lift him up to a sitting position, his groans of discomfort ringing in her ears. Nausea washed over her as she heard the squelching sound of the hole in his shoulder shifting, the muscle fibers stretching, and his blood flowed freely down the curve of his pectoral and abdomen, spilling onto the ground, turning the patch of gray a dark red.

"Jesus—" Leon breathed, gulping down to calm down, adjusting to the pain and the change of positions. His eyelids fluttered, shutting and opening repeatedly, the muscles around his eyes flexed, creating tiny folds on top of the ridge above his nose. "M'okay."

He had to be on the brink of passing out from the sheer shock, his breathing was shallow, and his face had drained of color, which was frightening, given how pale Leon was naturally. Vera focused on relocating him to lean his back against the wall and out of the puddle of blood he'd formed on the floor.

He was really trying, though, huffing as he shuffled around with her help, his feet sliding in the slicks as she pushed him back to rest on the vertical surface. "Easy, easy," he cooed, reassuring her, although it was also probably directed to himself. He winced when his back touched the wall, unable to contain the grimace of pain that followed, breathing out from his mouth.

"Oh my god, oh fucking hell, I'm sorry!" She wailed, feeling horrible she put him through it all, wanting to help him with whatever she could do to make sure the pain would go away. "Okay, okay, okay... Listen, I need to..." Vera fumbled with her words, looking around frantically for anything useful, and remembering she had a backpack bursting with supplies, she ripped it off in a haste. "Uh, your sleeve. I gotta—"

She took out her pocket knife, and began sawing through the hemline, cutting and tearing the cotton until the both sleeves were separated from the rest of the outfit, throwing the severed pieces aside and leaving his entire left arm naked from the shoulder down.

Vera was a woman possessed, a wild animal crazed as she scrounged through her belongings, looking for... There! A packet of gauze pads, and a roll of medical tape, bandages, disinfectant, saline, she forgot everything in her panic, but she recalled that at some point, they looted first aid kits and stole all of it. She got out a tube of antibiotic ointment and set the items in a line next to her.

"Fuckfuckfuck..."

Everything felt so small, as if the world had shrunk around her and collapsed upon her, her own personal universe collapsing in itself and her along with it. The lights seemed brighter, the air thinner, and the smell was stronger than ever. Blood was running down Leon's arm in rivulets, pooling underneath and joining the larger puddle he was in a minute ago. It wasn't gushing, it wasn't spurting out, but it was dripping, a steady stream that didn't seem like it was going to stop anytime soon. The panic made her want to wipe all the blood away and get rid of the mess, but she had to focus on stopping the flow first.

Leon, bless him, was bearing with the pain admirably well, but Vera could see it wasn't the worst part — she could tell from the sweat gathering around his hairline and the beads rolling down his temple he was having a hard time. And she was about to make it tenfold. But she was beyond caring now, her whole life became focusing on making sure he pulled through and survived another day.

"Listen, I'm going to... I'm gonna have to disinfect this first. Front and back. It'll hurt like shit."

She was met with his half-lidded eyes, dull and fogged. He nodded once, understanding what he needed to do. "Do it," he ordered, straightening his spine against the wall, and his features hardened, steeling himself for the pain to come.

Leon kept his left arm extended and close to him, elbow resting on the knee of the leg bent vertically, allowing Vera space to do her thing. With one last deep breath, Vera tore open the package of the gauze pads to pull one out, soaked it in the disinfectant and brought it to the entrance wound, touching the broken, oozing skin.

"Okay," she whispered. "On the count of three. One, two—"

Leon inhaled sharply the moment she applied pressure, and she moved quickly to blot over the front first. He cried out, shouting hoarsely and in agony as she worked, not letting up once to give him time to adjust, dabbing over and over, feeling like an ass for putting him through so much. His forehead had fallen on her shoulder, his legs began to jerk involuntarily, and she fought the urge to sob.

It took much longer than she anticipated to finish, her heart hammering against her ribs with every anguished cry from Leon, her mind racing with scenarios where he would bleed to death, her palms were clammy and her fingers slippery but she managed to get through this stage.

"Almost done, baby. Almost done, Leon. Hang in there."

She told him sweet nothings to distract him from the pain, but they were for her peace of mind. Vera needed to reassure herself that Leon was still there and it was up to her to keep it that way. The process was draining, and she couldn't imagine the amount of suffering Leon had to endure.

The exit wound was much easier, the disinfectant not as agonizing, and Vera wasted no time in repeating the procedure.

She discarded the bloody gauze and put her entire weight onto him, her lower arms on the sides of his ribcage and the open wound. "Now the bad part, okay? It's okay, Leon, it's okay. You're doing so great."

Her right hand searched around for the saline, finding it near the first aid kit she had yet to touch, and she unscrewed the cap. The syringe came next and she carefully filled it, before tapping the outside to release any excess. Vera leaned in to inspect the entry hole of his shoulder, the blood gurgling up, and she pinched the edges.

Leon gasped when she stuck the syringe into the hole and released the liquid into his body, forcing it to clean out any dirt. He jerked wildly, his other hand holding onto her to brace himself, his entire being pulsing with life and fighting back with all he had, but Vera wouldn't budge, pressing herself deeper to the wound to prevent it from closing up.

Leon whimpered, almost screamed when she yanked out the syringe, and Vera held him close as he moaned and groaned and panted and squirmed, waiting for it to subside.

"That was it. It's over. It's all over now." She crooned, reaching to stroke his cheek, to grab a fistful of his hair to grip and tug on gently, and Leon raised his head, his chin hooked on her shoulder, but didn't open his eyes, eyebrows knit together from the immense strain he went through, and she stroked the bridge of his nose with the back of her fingers, cupping his jaw, careful to avoid his injury, brushing the pad of her thumb over his cheekbone. "Look at you... It's all over. You did so well, so good. That's it. Take a breather. I need to take care of that wound."

Withdrawing from her embrace, Leon was a wreck, and she could only imagine how awful he felt. She hurried to peel open the packet of bandages, ripping them off to throw them to the side and applying the adhesive plaster on the back to have it stick together. She held it in place over the exit wound, and motioned for him to bring up his right hand.

"Hold this, okay? Hold it there."

Vera got more gauze and opened the ointment, squeezing a dollop to the center of her palm, and smeared it across his entire front, and then back, ignoring his pained protests and wincing and jolting, running the heel of her hand across his trapezius and up to the back of his neck to apply more pressure, hoping it would alleviate some of the throbbing, the greasy, yellow fluid coating the wound, mixing with the blood that was drying on his skin, and Leon grunted from the pain, but Vera didn't let up, lathering more and more in hopes the medicine would take effect.

It was all done in a span of minutes, she threw the empty tubes aside and grabbed the gauze, unrolling it to wrap it around his upper body.

"Okay, just a bit more and I promise you can rest," she promised, using the sticky side of the bandage to attach to the layer in front, looping it under his arm, to his back and up over his shoulder, before bringing it to the front to continue her work. She wrapped the roll around a few times, holding the layers in place, and when she was satisfied, she cut it with her knife and secured it with the tape. "There. All done. How do you feel?"

Leon cracked his eyes open, and Vera wanted to laugh — the look he gave her was priceless. "Like someone took a nail and drilled my shoulder. How do you think I feel?"

His voice was dry and tired and rough and in pain, and she smiled, taking the last remaining gauze pad and soaking it in the saline, before she used it to clean him up, wiping away all the dried blood. "At least you're still sassing me. That's a good sign."

"You sure you didn't go to nursing school?"

She scoffed, finishing her last sweep to collect the scraps and throw them in a pile on the ground, the bloody fabrics and used plasters. "Far from it. That was all improvisation."

"Well, if there's an RPD after this, we gotta tell them you're worth a damn in an ER."

Vera could fall asleep on the spot with how relieved she felt, like she'd run a marathon and couldn't think of anything else other than sleeping. She slumped against the wall next to him, the rush of adrenaline wearing off, leaving her to bask in the aftermath.

Her heart was slowing down to normal, her blood pressure dropping back to regular levels and the erratic pulse calmed down to a more stable beat. She didn't know when the fingerless gloves on her hands had come off, but they were somewhere on the floor next to them, as was Leon's shirt and the vest, the other things they were carrying too, scattered around in a messy heap. The blood staining his front and his hands and her clothes made her skin itch and her nose scrunch, but they didn't have the luxury of privacy, much less time to get cleaned up.

Vera stared at the ceiling, the pipes that ran on it, the blinking fluorescent light, the rust on the screws that bolted it into the solid concrete.

The exhaustion hit her with a tidal wave, her muscles aching and her bones weak, a switch flicked, the colors of the world around her losing vibrancy and growing duller, and she could hardly keep her eyes open, the heaviness on her eyelids pushing her into unconsciousness.

She wasn't even the one who got shot, for fuck's sake.

Don't think, thinking slows you down, the voice of her father started in her mind.

Leon shifted next to her, and she turned her head, about to ask him if he was okay, when she saw him slip, his knees bending as the strength in his thighs disappeared, and she gasped, straightening her legs in a quick reflex to support him. He leaned over, the weight of his head falling on her shoulder, his right side pressed up against her left, directly against her burnt, bandaged upper arm, his cheek to her collarbone, and it made her exhale heavily to adjust to the additional weight, the sudden zap of white hot pain radiating down her arm and up her neck, and the muscle twitching involuntarily.

Vera was hyper-aware of his entire body, the smell of gunpowder, his breath, his hair tickling her throat, the moisture from his sweat cooling down and evaporating, and most importantly, focused on not to move despite her discomfort, as not to disturb him. She bit her lip and tried her hardest to not show it, as not to make it seem he was unwanted, when nothing could be farther from the truth. Leon needed his rest, he deserved to sleep for all the things he went through and did for others.

She lifted her right hand to cradle the side of his neck, the silky locks of the dirty blond strands tangling in her fingers, stroking and carding through to keep her mind busy, her heart heavy, trying not to get stuck on how cold his ear was. He was unconscious, passed out from the trauma his body suffered, and she felt that pressure at the back of her throat, the burn in her nostrils as she swallowed it all back. Her gaze flickered to his face, studying him in the quiet that blanketed them, his brows no longer furrowed and relaxed, the sharp lines on his forehead fading as the muscles loosened.

She took a deep breath, leaning forward to rest her temple on the crown of his head, and sighed.

Leon stirred and was roused to consciousness by a rhythmic pattern of constant pressure, massaging his scalp. He recognized the feeling immediately, the gentle scratches on his head and the comforting petting motion, the soft, affectionate touches, the familiarity of the sensation soothing him to wakefulness, and his eyelashes fluttered, attempting to blink open the haziness.

He wasn't fully aware, he was still out of it, barely lucid, and there was a sharp pain in his left shoulder, pulsating and shooting down to the tip of his finger, making it tingle as he wiggled his digits, the limb felt stiff and leaden. He couldn't move it properly, but he didn't try, just remained where he was, comforted by the ministrations.

There was something cold, wet, and slightly painful on the tender spot of the affected area, and he became aware of his surroundings, of the scent of antiseptic, of the drip of leaking pipes somewhere, of the crackling of electricity in the cables, the noises of the sewers he was all too familiar with by now. He had his right side leaning into a body, head lolled on the curve of a warm shoulder, his arm was dead asleep from lying on top of it for who knows how long, and he was tempted to move it to get the pins and needles out of it, but his eyes landed on Vera's face, her own tilted up and away from him, her expression distant.

"... Vera...?" He tried, his voice strained and feeble, coming out in a rasp. The strokes on his head paused and stopped altogether, and she flinched, startled by the suddenness of his awakening. Leon tried to clear his throat and failed, his lips parched and cracking, tongue heavy. He blinked rapidly to fight off the fatigue. "Wha... What—"

That's when he noticed the dead body lying on the ground, right in front of him and Vera at their feet, with the shovel sticking out of its skull.

Vera removed her fingers from his head, and he immediately missed it, completely at a loss as to what was happening. She glanced at the corpse with a scowl, before setting her attention back on him.

"Don't worry about that," she said, not a trace of remorse on her features, twirling a silver band with a green digital band on her left wrist — and Leon immediately took notice of her bandaged hand underneath the fingerless gloves.

He wanted to reach for it to examine it, to check if it was injured and if he could do anything, but the ache in his shoulder prevented him from lifting his arm. "Are you... Okay? What happened to your—"

She shrugged, offering him a nonchalant smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Don't worry about that either. Do you want to sleep some more? We're safe here for a while. I checked."

Her eyes roamed across his face, assessing him, checking him for injuries, a downward pull at the corners of her mouth. Leon's mind was too foggy to keep up. "Ada..?"

She kept staring ahead for a while, stuck in the process of trying to form a reply, and she glanced at him. Her hair was damp and hanging around her in loose curls, stray strands were plastered to her cheeks, framing her face. Leon thought it was very fitting. "Went after Annette."

The cold, hard floor was seeping the warmth out of his body, the wind blowing in from somewhere icy, but he still found it in himself to give her a disapproving frown. "You should've forgotten about me. I would've caught up."

"Always the hero, never the damsel," Vera commented, a sigh of exasperation leaving her lips as she reached over to fuss over the bandages on his shoulder, tugging on the ends to fix the arrangement. "How is your pain? Still hurts like a bitch? Wanna pop some pills?"

It was almost impossible to think clearly, but he realized he'd been a burden enough for the two of them. "No. Save it. Just let me... Sit for a while."

"There is no honor or victory in bearing the pain Leon, just take the damn painkillers," she snapped, annoyed for whatever reason, her brow quirked up, daring him to defy her, and it clicked — the severity of his situation must have kicked in Vera's protectiveness and she was angry he almost got himself killed. It was sort of endearing to know he'd matter to somebody that much, but the shame of letting her down was just as strong.

Leon tried to sit up with the strength of one arm, struggling with it for a moment, before he managed to move a few inches, and Vera was there in an instant to help, her arm around his back, keeping him upright.

The shift of positions was awkward and clumsy and required her assistance, but he found himself thankful she was there to keep him from crashing to the floor. He leaned back onto the wall and grunted at the impact, and Vera was right beside him, hovering as he took a few deep breaths, waiting for it to pass.

He stared at the body on the ground instead, not knowing who this person was, wondering their life before the outbreak. "Yeah, al—alright."

Vera stuck her hand inside the pouch of the backpack between her legs to rummage around, the zipper opening with a loud sound, and she took out a small box with a first aid label.

To him, an eternity had passed when the capsule fell into his open palm, and another one followed shortly afterwards. It was embarrassing to be unable to perform the simple task of popping the pills in his mouth, his left hand useless and unmoving, and he wanted to shout in frustration, but Vera was there, guiding his hand to the bottom of the plastic bottle, helping him raise it to his lips.

He drank it greedily, the coolness of the liquid running down his throat, washing away the soreness, and the pill slid in effortlessly as he chased the freshness, before she withdrew her hand and Leon pulled back.

He kept gulping it down, a few drops dribbling down the corner of his mouth, and he licked at the corner of his lips to catch it before it spilled. Vera turned to the side, returning the box and the water bottle to the bag, and he wiped his chin with the back of his hand.

"Is the wristband from the unfortunate bastard?" He asked, craning his neck to peer at the dead body, at the protruding shovel. Vera hummed.

"Yep," she mumbled, looking up, the hollow in her eyes still present, her gaze distant and glazed over. "That door doesn't open without one of these, 's how he got in."

"I don't even wanna know how you managed to kill him," he chuckled, impressed with her, always impressed with her, and he didn't understand why she seemed to have an issue with it. "And what the hell happened to your hand?"

She flexed the fingers of the said hand, wriggling them in the glove. "Asshole snuck up on us. Closest thing was the knife and well, grabbed the blade in a haste. Ouch ensued. Nothing bad. No nerve damage outside my ego."

Leon studied her profile, the slope of her nose, the soft, full line of her lips. She definitely looked younger without the black lipstick, and the dark circles underneath her eyes looked more prominent than usual. "Any news from Claire?"

Vera shook her head, shifting to turn towards him, pulling up her leg to cross it over the other, and rested her elbow on the knee. "Nothing yet but I did call her about you. Told her to keep searching for Sherry. She sounded pretty shaken up. You should talk to her if you feel up to it, she'd probably appreciate it. Let her know you're okay."

The thought of Claire being worried about him made him wince internally, and he felt like absolute shit for being the reason behind the fear. Claire was doing all this on her own, with nobody to watch her back, and he was in a cozy spot with Vera by his side.

"We should keep going," he sighed, carefully wiggling his left shoulder to gauge the damage and testing the limits of the range of movements. "We've lost too much time already because of me. Can't afford to stall any more."

"Give it some time," Vera proposed, waving a dismissive hand, and Leon closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of her knuckles grazing over his forehead, and for a moment it didn't cross his mind that she was checking his temperature, taking it as a sweet gesture. "Let the meds kick in. At least until you can stand on your own."

Vera's entire person screamed 'just relax, everything's gonna be fine' as she took on the role of taking care of him, and Leon wanted to let himself be taken care of by someone else for a change, wanted to forget about all the bullshit they've been through for a minute and bask in the tranquility that she offered, to allow himself to be the weak and not be responsible for anyone else but himself. It was hard not to give in to the temptation, his nerves too strung up to deal with it on his own, and it was so easy to get used to this.

And this was the perfect opportunity.

"Only if you tell me why you hid the truth."

Vera's hands stilled, the calm replaced with hesitation and alarm, her shoulders tense, her entire being rigid. It was brief, fleeting, lasting a split second, but Leon noticed the subtle changes that occurred in her demeanor.

"What?" She tried to brush it off with a casual chuckle, but it came out too forced, and Leon wouldn't have it. Not now. He wanted to know. Deserved to.

Maybe it was Leon's own fault for not seeing it before, he'd only known Vera for a day after all, deeming it a personality trait or a quirk of hers, and perhaps even a trauma response that she would barely react to information that others would freak out over, like he and Claire did. She knew Sherry, it was natural she would have information about her parents about being virologists, but the minute Ada had revealed they worked for Umbrella, all the little nuggets of knowledge Vera had dropped that would otherwise be classified as useless information, all the tiny clues that were too insignificant and nonsensical at first, fell into place and made sense. W.B. William Birkin. Brian Irons. The sewers. Ben Bertolucci. Vera Kaplan, P.I.

"You knew it was Umbrella. From the beginning. Why did you keep it a secret?"

She froze, not even a muscle twitching, her eyes wide and fixed on him, all the oxygen got sucked out of the room. It was a wonder she didn't stop breathing altogether, the only noise that broke through the dense atmosphere being the buzz of the neon light in the distance. Leon wanted to take it back, to take it all back and pretend it didn't happen, but they couldn't remain stuck in the past.

"I mean, why act like you had no idea at all— you just... Watched us, watched me go out of my mind, with Sherry and... and Claire and—" He bit his tongue to stop the words from spilling, to refrain from saying too much, and to avoid crossing a line, continued softly, "I don't understand."

Vera's blank face became devoid of color, her complexion taking on a sickly hue, and he was almost sure she'd shut down on him, but she surprised him when she lowered her eyes and dipped her chin. "I suppose it doesn't matter how you figured it out, huh?"

Leon didn't want to fight her, not about this. Not when all he wanted was the truth, the undiluted version of it. Not when all he wanted to do was understand her, the motivations behind her actions and why she felt the need to hide. "Who are you, really?"

"Fucking hell, I didn't bullshit that much. You saw me bury my father, give me some grace," Vera scoffed, rolling her eyes, and she looked annoyed, but not at him, at herself. He wanted to retract, to tell her he was sorry, he didn't mean it to sound that way, but she beat him to it. "... I'm sorry. It's not you, it's— no, it was you, that's dumb, I'm sorry. But, not in the way you think, ugh—" Vera pushed herself off the ground with an unceremonious groan, stepping over the dead body with a slight sway to her step, and held the handle of the shovel in a firm grip. "I can't just go around and give this information to anyone. Like, hello, this is a big ass company that has government officials under their payroll and nearly all of the city's residents dying because of this virus. And before that even happened, what do you think happened to people who blew the whistle on Umbrella? Hmm?"

Vera pulled the shovel from the deceased's head, and the resistance in the rotted flesh and bone made her grunt. She took a deep breath, giving it another forceful tug to loosen it, and with a final pull, the head came free, and Vera stumbled back from the momentum, barely catching herself. "They disappear. Never to be found again. They all become a statistic. People who never existed and are erased from the records, as if they never lived to begin with, as if they never mattered. Maybe their loved ones never even learn the truth about their fate."

Leon watched her with intent, observing her every move as she began to pace, back and forth, around the small area. "And... And I was in it from birth, Leon. You remember the orphanage? Founded by Umbrella. I don't know Irons because he was the boss of my dad, I know him from there. He was the director. He ran that shithole. Sold children to be test subjects. Like fucking livestock."

"What?" Leon breathed, his eyes following her as she moved. All warmth in his body drained, leeched out by the very words she uttered.

"Do you have any idea how fucked up these people are? The things they did to my friends? They preyed on the poor and homeless kids who came in as abandoned infants, fostered them for years and then handed them over to the researchers to be experimented on, to see if their mothers' drug addictions affected them in any way or something."

She was… speaking a different language, one that he heard but still comprehended one way or another, his stomach twisted and undulated, calcifying from the mental images, his blood running cold. "What the fuck."

Kids. Kids. Children.

Experimented on.

Leon had to lean forward and support his head, focus on breathing loudly from his nose so he wouldn't throw up. The dizziness had him frantically blinking to make it go away. What kind of world was this? What kind of monsters lived in this city? It wasn't the ones that kept coming back from the dead, that was for sure.

Vera rubbed her fingers together, her eyes darting all over the place. "And I found out too late, after I got out. After Marvin... Yeah. I was like some golden fucking goose for them, I don't know. Good for P.R. Gifted kid. I was worth something because I was the face of the Raccoon Orphanage for Umbrella, the star pupil of Raccoon City, the girl who went places and became a technological genius and made something of herself—"

"You're Doe-Eyed Jane," Leon completed, Jesus, his whole generation was plagued by this girl who only lived through the T.V. and newspapers. She was all anyone — any parents could ever talk about at family gatherings. Documentaries, the news, the magazines. Jane Doe, the Girl Who Defied All Odds. He remembered the stories about her going viral, about how she was a prodigy, so small compared to the guest speakers on the screens, shaking their hands as she presented the projects she was working on, what had won science fair competitions, all the academic awards she had earned. Leon had thought she was too good to be true, too unreal to exist, and wondered if she was ever really a real girl who was actually living or just some stunt to boost the company's image. The poor, unfortunate orphan who was so smart that she got an internship with the leading corporation in the country, the future of their tech innovations, and he could see her clearly in his mind, standing on stage in front of cameras with an Umbrella representative, holding up an award. It wasn’t a mental image he’d conjured up, too, there really were poses she had given with Oswell Spencer, the creator and founder of the company, in the covers of many newspapers.

Even in that giant portrait in the orphanage’s hall.

"Yeah," she confirmed with a grimace. "Doe-Eyed Jane. Shitty name for a shitty image. The golden calf they paraded around to convince people that Umbrella was good."

Leon had to stop to take a deep breath. He would have never been able to guess. The little girl and Vera in front of him were different people. So different. One was a cheerful and outgoing child, who smiled at the camera with big bright eyes and shiny teeth, who laughed in interviews, who waved to the crowds that swarmed her, well-mannered, intelligent, and polite, dressed in expensive clothes with her hair always in the same braids, and the other one was this fierce, stubborn young woman with a sharp tongue, a blazing fire in her eyes, and an aura of an untouchable confidence with the penchant for trouble and chaos.

"I'm sorry for not telling you, or Claire, I really am. At first, I didn't think it was even necessary. It became a matter of eventually spilling the beans. And I really couldn't handle being fucking questioned, you know? About how I could have prevented it, how I could have done something— believe me, I know. I've had to live with that. Every single day of my life. Because in the end I took advantage of the cushy life Umbrella provided for me. How could I look anyone in the eye after learning what I now know?" She gestured around wildly, throwing her hands up in the air. "I'm not gonna lie to you or make excuses. It was easier to shut up, to be honest, than to talk about it. All of it."

She clasped her hands behind her head, threading her fingers through the disheveled mess of brown strands, and shook her head. "The shitty thing is that I wanted to at some point, and I just couldn't. I just kept coming up with reasons to postpone it further, oh the timing isn't right, oh Marvin no, oh Sherry disappeared, oops, there goes Claire too. And then… and then too much time passed. I was too scared I would ruin our trust."

She crossed the length of the small corridor, moving from side to side, unable to keep still, the silence settling between them heavy, as his eyes stayed glued to the floor, vibrating from the anxiety, from the pent up emotion that was begging to be let out he really didn’t think should be the focus here.

"Not that it matters now," she whispered, almost inaudible. Leon glanced up from his spot, and she looked miserable. "But I'm going to use it for good. That's why I'm recording shit and collecting documents left and right. To make sure nothing like this happens again. I was Umbrella for years, and the moment I was aware, I betrayed them. This time I'll do it right. I will make sure they pay. All of them. Even if it kills me. I swear. That, you can trust."

He understood. He couldn't say he was happy about the outcome, but he understood. And for now, that had to be enough. "Okay."

Vera halted and stared at him with wide, unbelieving eyes. "What?"

"I said okay."

She continued to stare at him with an open mouth, blinking, gawking, a fish out of the water. "That's it?"

"What do you want me to say?" Leon shrugged, the movement shooting a hot, white bolt of lightning up to his neck, and he flinched, hissing. Vera took a hesitant step forward, wanting to help but not knowing if he would accept it, and he extended his good arm towards her, making her understand he wanted her closer. "At least you were right about this not being the right time to talk about it."

She moved as he beckoned, placing her palm in his, Leon intertwined their fingers together, and she tugged, helping him get up. "We're on the same side. Whatever information you have, no matter how insignificant, can be of use. And not to me. To the victims. They deserve justice. They deserve someone who stands up for them. Or else what would their sacrifices have been for? Just promise me you will be there to speak for them."

Vera bowed her head, and Leon could see a single tear drop falling from her eye, hanging on to her chin, and then disappearing into the material of her turtleneck, her voice weak, "They will get justice."

He gave her hand a tight squeeze, a physical reassurance, and she squeezed back, nodding.

#leon kennedy x oc #leon s. kennedy x oc #leon s kennedy x oc #resident evil oc #oc: vera kaplan #era: no time to die #story: gravedigger #resident evil x oc

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mandalhoerian · 11 months ago

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NO TIME TO DIE | leon kennedy x oc | 9

pairing: leon s. kennedy x oc word count: 13K~ warnings: desth of a child, suggested suicide off-screen, sewers summary: In trying to make up for a previous mistake, Vera digs herself into a deeper hole yet manages to add an FBI agent to their ever-growing party, anyway. There's something about her, though, that only Vera is privy to. author's note: dedicated to @sweet-hometea for all the love on this fic and the fanart, and to @mykobirb as well, especially for the lovely comment on ao3! and also!!!!!! to @byexbyez -- literally nobody commented on my works ever like they did, thank you so much 😭😭😭😭😭

READ ON AO3 ! ☆ NO TIME TO DIE MASTERPOST

Leon was—

He didn’t sound like himself.

Vera was unable to withhold a great deal of worry from showing itself in her face through what was essentially a crumpled discomfort like she’d just chomped down on a ripe lemon.

One didn't need months to decipher this guy’s true nature, he was the straightforward type that way; a single glance at his well-mannered, gentle demeanor spoke volumes. Leon wasn't the type to engage in psychological chess, not because he lacked intelligence or cunning, but because his character exuded honesty and sincerity — his approach to extracting information was direct, relying on trust and a genuine connection rather than manipulative tactics, after all, even when he knew she was hiding things, no on-the-nose attempt was made by him at any point to try getting her to let the cat out of the bag.

This… bargain technique didn’t suit him — and even worse, he was, frankly, terrible at it, the nonchalant charisma he should have had to support his claim was more of an anxious fight stance preparing to receive a blow because he visibly wore his heart on his sleeve, intentions transparent.

And it was none other than Vera who had steered him to this road.

Guilt washed over her in an overwhelming wave, the point where her actions, or rather, her inaction brought them to was bearing down on her with the force of a blizzard. She had let him go to great complicated and uncharacteristic lengths, navigating through the murkiness of uncertainty, all because of her own hesitation and selfishness, and the regret she had been able to push aside before suddenly became an avalanche, burying her in its suffocating embrace.

She could have saved Leon from the anguish he had put himself — was putting himself through, the desperation to uncover the answers that haunted him he was holding at bay for others’ sake. She could have spared him the emotional and mental toll it had taken.

How could she have allowed herself to play the role of the selfless protector, pretending to spare Leon and Claire from the truth, when in reality, it was her own fear and inability to confront the difficult questions that held her back? This was never about protecting their blissful ignorance, was it? She was doing this to not be hated and lose people she’d gotten attached to. It was self-preservation from the very first moment, the protection of her own feelings. Not wanting to be judged. Not wanting to be questioned. Not wanting to be perceived at all. She would have told both her companions from the start if she truly cared about them, and that was a pill she didn’t want to even look at right now, let alone attempt swallowing.

Oh, if it wasn’t the consequences of her own actions.

Of course life had thrown a whole FBI agent in the mix to laugh at her squirming to choose the least bumpy way to go about it, because how the hell was she going to set things right with a trained individual who could sniff out liars on the spot?

No point in panicking now.

It had been too long of this pretense and too much acting and misleading for her to randomly come out in what would essentially be a confessional. He would certainly resent her if she decided to disclose everything now of all the times. Because it would be personal. Because the question would be, ‘Why did you hide it from me after everything we went through together?’ and not ‘Why didn’t you do anything?’ — and somehow that was worse.

Vera didn’t know if she could take it if Leon were to look at her like Irons did. Hell, even the imagination of his features twisted in hate and disdain pointed right at her induced a whole body shudder.

God, why was this scarier than anything else they were facing?

So it was right back to the starting point. She couldn’t say anything.

Not now, anyway.

She had to stay quiet… as long as circumstances allowed it.

And if it were to be unexpectedly revealed, an excuse had to be up and ready to go with a cherry on top, and she needed to come up with one, fast.

A lie never lives to be old. Or, as they say in her homeland, the candle of someone who lies almost always burns just to midnight — and after that?

But.

But redemption of a smaller scale was still possible.

Leon could still get his questions answered and she also could delay the inevitable — all through this FBI Agent. If she were to spill the beans, then Vera wouldn’t have getting exposed to worry about for a while until they got out of RC.

This was it. Yes, fuck, good thinking.

Help Leon get the information from her, fall back on the road, get Claire and Sherry and hightail it out of here — and the following course of action?

Vera would think about it once she had a clean bed and slept like the dead and turned her brain off to everything for at least a month.

The priority was now with the obviously struggling blond and the agent.

The problem was Leon trying to play bad cop while he was clearly fit for good cop to the bone, an assist from her was necessary to swap the roles, that much was obvious from the flat reaction he’d gotten from the woman.

Her pointed, chiding pause was followed by an unmoved expression save for the amused twitch of her glossy, red-hued lips at his attempt to play the interrogator, supporting Vera’s silent hypothesis reeking from the twisted anxiety on her face shadowed by the anticipatory cringe she was trying to hold back for Leon’s sake. As an FBI agent, she must have dealt with individuals far more skilled in manipulation than a rookie police officer who didn’t even know the contents of the tape he was offering.

She wasn't about to fall for his bluff so easily.

"Let's be clear," she remarked with a touch of sarcasm, a tilt to her head. "You're not the type of individuals I would typically rely on for crucial information."

Let’s do this.

Vera put her hand on Leon’s forearm, lowering the hand he was death-gripping the tape recorder with like his life depended on it as she stepped forward, all hands on deck, preparing to take over the reins of the conversation and sending him a reassuring look as he silently questioned her. Poor guy was winded as a wire about to snap, the stress that seemed to make him sweat had waned upon her intervention, and that alone was enough to keep going. “You’re not relying on us. It’s Bertolucci. We just have his stuff. And if you’re interested, possibly more.”

Another thing that weighed on her throat and her conscience.

It was so twisted to utter the man’s name in these circumstances and use it to her own benefit, when he had perished right in front of her in the most gruesome way possible. He’d been brazen and shameless to her face, alive and breathing and talking five minutes ago. One blink and he was no more. She knew this man. She’d worked with this man, laughed with him, shared common grievances, and just like that, he was gone. They didn’t even have a chance to take in what was left of him before having to hightail it out of there for their lives. It was as if her feelings hadn’t caught up with what her brain had already comprehended.

Dying was easier than breathing in this rotting city, and getting used to it all was a silent disease as much as it was an immune system reaction.

And Vera was using the poor bastard’s name as a tool to have her way. It was a whale on her tongue.

Just keep going. Don’t think about it.

This was for Leon. (Yeah. Not herself. Leon.)

The woman made a small, judgmental noise from her nose as she slowly crossed her arms loosely over her chest, not even glancing at the ball Vera had kicked over to her side. So withdrawn.

Assessing the situation more up close and personal couldn’t go without acknowledging the government had basically caged the city in, waiting the destruction out instead of interfering, so, this sole agent’s presence here despite the raging outbreak indicated one singular objective, and Vera would carrot-and-stick it out of her, it was the least she could do for Leon.

She hoped it’d be worth it to make light of legit traumatizing events that were still fresh gaping holes in her very being.

“Spoiler alert: Emails. Journals. Documentation. Exchanges—” She purposefully stopped, as if trying to remember, squinting, and then waving her hand dismissively, but not too oblivious to raise some suspicion, adding some concern in there for flavor. “Something about some Gee-virus, its whereabouts, what it does. Some unbelievable stuff if you ask me, but graves don’t stay sacred in this city anymore and the late Mr. X over here just popped a head like a pimple in front of me.” Leon made a sound of discomfort behind her, she could hear him shift around, walk back perhaps, wary at the burning, crushed frame of the said creature buried in debris. “So shit be damned, someone really is playing Frankenstein out there somewhere. I think.”

A-ha. There it is.

A tiny flicker beneath the impenetrable ice as Vera purposefully kept on rambling. The slight raise of her prettily pointed chin, falling open of the lips, the inconspicuous shift of her gloved hands where they were snug in her crossed arms.

So, the target was G-Virus after all.

“We’ll hand over everything we have to you if you’re willing to tell us what’s going on,” Leon cut in, too impatiently eager, causing Vera to snap her head at him with a tut and throwing a look at him pointedly in a silent message to shut up and let her handle it.

He immediately got the shifty eyes of guilt.

If Leon kept bringing bargaining up out loud like that, she could hold obstruction of justice over his head for withholding information and take whatever she wanted anyway — he really was backing himself to a corner by doing that and didn’t even know it, proving once again that interrogation wasn’t his forte against a seasoned individual.

“You’re playing a game I have no patience to entertain.” Vera’s face went sour. And here we have it. This woman had to be waiting for someone to slip up to pull this card. “I guess I should inform you of Section 37A of the Federal Confidential Informant Protection Act. It’s an offense to withhold information that may hinder the progress of an investigation or put informants at risk.”

Vera held up one pointer finger in parallel to her head like she wanted permission to speak in class. “Miss. May I?”

For a split second, the agent was utterly speechless, mouth opening and closing, this was a true absurdity when all things considered they were conversing in front of a giant dead creature and a smoking, burning vehicle, bargaining like merchants, but it didn’t last long for it to be considered slipping. “What are you doing?”

Her finger went up higher. “May I?”

“You don’t have to—”

The girl opened her palms to the side and brought them together. “At risk is a magnanimously underestimating thing to say about your informant’s condition, I mean the man’s head just got squeezed like a lemon.”

Leon’s croaking sigh resonated in her soul. Truly the spirit of a scandalized goody two shoes. “Oh my god.”

She didn’t feel great about it either. He didn’t need to sound that disappointed.

“What? Why are you making that face, I’m right.” Leon looked like he was considering their friendship momentarily there when she shrugged. No idea whatsoever it was a tactic. Which was fine. Only added to the authenticity. “And. And. We are your informants now. So. The only one doing the hindering and risking is you.”

“You’re making me regret saving your smartass.”

“Oh, snippy. No need for that, we just want to help.”

“Then do tell me how you came to possess such information?”

Vera tilted her head in what would be her dumb blonde moment in a joking manner, purposefully making it clear she was playing dumb as a joke. “Stumbled on it.”

The agent wasn’t having it at the moment, however, patience cut short by Vera’s cheekiness so far. “Stumbled on it.”

“Well, purposefully stumbled on it,” Vera said, dropping the act since her energy wasn’t matched, unhooking one strap of her backpack to search the contents so she could bring out her camera, and when it was in her hand, she shook it triumphantly at the skeptical woman. Mixing a dash of truth in there for good measure. “I’m also trying to actively record everything going on in the city, so it’s not really a coincidence. In case the public would claim the footage is too Hollywood, like, I dunno, to claim mass hysteria, I was also looking to get every file in the station documenting the events and that’s when we found something — and neither of us understood what we stumbled on, to be honest.”

Her fingers had begun tapping on her arm. “What exactly is the basis of your evidence?”

“His Chief happened to be involved in guarding something impor—”

Leon chimed in again. “The G-virus.”

“The G-virus, yes,” she sighed, deep but short, not wanting the exasperation to show on her face as she focused on the automatic garage door behind the agent, trying to ignore the covered body of her dog just in the corner. “And he was bribed for his services — apparently. We saw the proof of it in his office, and took it with us. Easy as that. Interested yet?”

A head tilt. “Maybe.” Her arm lock loosened as one of her hands rested on her hip this time, an authoritative and commanding pose. More relaxed and receptive. “After I see with my eyes what you have.”

Leon tried his chance again. “You’ll tell us, then?”

Vera saw the corner of a raised eyebrow peeking up underneath the sunglasses, clearly unimpressed by his persistence. "I'll tell you what you need to know if your claims hold true," she responded, finally giving in, steady and composed and not so much like she was at the losing end of a gambit.

Leon, sensing that the agent's interest had been piqued, took a step closer, meeting the woman’s unwavering gaze underneath the veil of her black lenses. "The evidence is right here. Please. We’re not asking for much.”

The agent's demeanor softened slightly, a glimmer of curiosity shining through her stern facade. "Very well," she acquiesced, measured. "Show me what you have."

It didn’t look like she’d take off running once they gave her what she wanted — not with those stilettos, so Vera reached into her backpack once again, carefully retrieving a stack of documents neatly resting at the very back, courtesy of Leon’s organizational skills. She handed them over to the agent, who took them with a measured caution, scanning the contents with an astute precision, skipping over the police reports and obviously searching for something specific.

As the agent perused the evidence, Leon leaned closer to Vera, his voice barely a whisper. "Do you think it's enough?" he asked, his apprehension evident.

She just hummed in return, eyes not leaving the woman, not even for a second.

It was enough. The emails made the location clear as the sewers. It was all the agent had to have needed.

Vera bit her lip, teeth nipping at one particular layer of chapped skin, gaze fixed on her reaction. She had laid all their cards on the table, hoping that the evidence would be compelling enough to elicit the truth Leon sought, and if it came down to the worst, they had the keycard anyway, she could figure something out to stick together all the way to the sewers and come up with a way to persuade the woman to reveal anything at all that’d be satisfactory enough to him for the time being.

After what felt like an eternity, the agent finally looked up from the documents, her expression a mix of contemplation and intrigue. "This... is unexpected," she admitted, clearly not in her plans today to be surprised. “I need to hear that tape as well.”

Success.

She sure didn’t seem the type to be thrown off-kilter or shaken, and that fact alone caused an inexplicable smugness to spread in Vera, taking a turn to teasing, letting out a chuckle as she retrieved the tape recorder and held it between two fingers towards the agent like a piece of evidence herself. "You sure you don't want to see the movie too? Have popcorn, sit down on the sofa? Agent...?"

Vera couldn’t help but continue with an arched eyebrow, expectant and confident, as the agent seemed to process how to deal with her after Leon simply held out his palm at the sight of Vera playfully offering up the item of importance. But it was undeniably amusing seeing how someone who carried herself with such assurance got stuck in the moment for just the shortest instant of uncertainty before she smoothly recovered to reach and take the device from Vera, who did not miss a beat to toss it over.

"Ada." The agent replied dryly as she handled the device, fiddling with it until she found the right button, and with a nod, pressed down on it, ready to absorb whatever secrets hid within it. "And take it down a notch," she warned with a serious undercurrent, before turning around and starting to walk away towards the entrance of the garage, a silent expectation for the both to follow her.

The corners of Vera's lips drew upwards, the beginnings of a smirk curling them as she nudged Leon. "Too much?" she whispered.

Leon was torn for a moment, before his eyes locked with her and he released a sigh of surrender that quickly morphed into a resigned smile, glancing behind him . "Let's just follow her before she changes her mind and leaves us to the mercy of this... thing."

The three continued towards the other side of the room, the clicking of the agent's high heels echoing ominously as they walked across the dark concrete, the tape recorder crackling into life, static cutting through the heavy silence.

Vera gazed to the side at Zeytin's covered body, spacing off at the lone paw poking out, trying hard to suppress any thoughts she might have, biting inside of her lip, and clenched her fists tight at her sides, staring ahead now.

“But that doesn’t explain the rumors about the orphanage. I-I just find it way too coincidental Umbrella’s one of the benefactors,” Ben Bertolucci pressed, obviously slipping it in there nonchalantly in the middle of some conversation, his casual attempt at digging further into the company sounding like gossip he was trying to get her to talk about with him, and Vera snorted, never tiring of the audacity this man possessed.

May he rest in peace.

Leon jogged forward, producing a keycard out of his pocket, and slid it inside the control panel, the gates rolling up to give access to the outside world, a cold, fresh whiff of night rain enveloping all their bodies, and it was so refreshing that Vera inhaled deeply through the nose while Leon didn't look away once from the agent and the tape recorder, intent to listen.

There was a pause, a few moments of silence save for the rhythmic beats of their footsteps against the ground. “You told me this interview was about the new scholarship Umbrella set up.”

Vera's ears twitched as they exited the building, listening closely, but she was focused more on the woman and trying to read her mood. So far so good as they started ascending the slope, getting a clear view of the street ahead and a hint of freedom.

“Come on, Annette. Nobody cares about that. They want to know about the G-Virus, and the—”

“Where did you hear about this?”

That made her feel strange all over, a creeping uneasiness rising inside her belly, like when someone says your name, you naturally react — like a trigger. The same happened when you heard your own name being spoken out loud in the distance, even though you didn't quite catch the rest of it, but it still hit home and you looked around, expecting to spot who it might have been.

“—and that big fucking sinkhole in the city which, by the way, rumor has it goes straight to your underground lab.”

She heard Leon murmur, "Lab?"

Vera took advantage of their walk uphill to glance back, noting they had left the doors to the underground structure open, to hide her face, mostly, and feign observation over their route. But she couldn't stop the flinching of her body when they finally stepped into the rain, droplets splattering onto her clothes, instantly cooling her overheating head, so refreshing she wanted to stay and turn her head up at the sky.

They were leaving the station behind.

Leaving her dad behind.

That somehow was harder to come to terms with than having to bury him with her own two hands.

“Now, are you going to talk to me or are you—”

“This interview is over.”

One hand slipped down from her heart to rest against the stomach that wanted to reject her half-digested food at the realization.

Was this really going to be their goodbye? Just walk away like that without so much as a proper ceremony to remember him by? A pitiful, shallow hole with no time to mourn over him?

"Bitch."

When her hand began trembling, a large, warm one touched hers, taking it off her belly and loosely holding it in comfort, and it grounded her to reality. She blinked several times rapidly at nothing, trying to quell the random hysteria from descending upon her, feeling like her limbs were detached and she was watching herself on the side.

The street they arrived at after climbing the parking garage ramp was quiet, apart from the trickle of water and the distant sounds of shuffling feet in the background, almost peaceful, if not for the unnatural, desolate feel that seemed to permeate the entire neighborhood. They stood in a rectangle of a road surrounded on all sides by narrow buildings of varying architectural styles, tall houses lined up together like little boxes, and cars littered throughout like forgotten, thrown toys, the bright light from a nearby fire flickering against the gloomy backdrop in the far right corner. Some of the windows of the buildings were shattered or boarded up; others were partially open, allowing them to see the darkness that loomed behind the glass.

All of them seemed empty, abandoned.

Despite the lights.

What an oddly organized ghost town it was, she thought absentmindedly. She spent her teen years here, yet it appeared like the architecture didn’t want to blend in with her memories, clashing instead in an eclectic showcase. Everything had this… vibe of having been lived in once, and now just completely lifeless and dormant.

An ambulance was parked awkwardly in front of a rusty metal fence to the left of the trio, its back door hanging open as if it had been hastily discarded there, the vehicle's wheels dug deep in the mud and it looked to have been abandoned for days. There was blood spattered across the paramedic uniforms that lay on the ground next to the stretcher, but thankfully, there were no signs of bodies anywhere. It was a part of a barricade of vehicles blocking the path down the main road, leading deeper into the city center, with a pair of police cars taking the lead and another ambulance as the rear guard, a seemingly hasty precautionary measure to prevent anyone from driving past, or things from coming in, which meant the only way to move forward was to the right.

Where the, uh. The sinkhole was. Leading to the sewers. What a neat coincidence.

"Does that confirm the intel?" Leon prompted the agent again when they all approached the roadblock. He stopped by the nearest police car, eyeing the hood as he spoke. The way he stood, rigid, alert, like he was ready for something bad to happen anytime—

"Surprisingly, yes." Ada was quick to respond, the low, sharp edge audible over the pitter-patter of rain around them. It was obvious she wasn’t too keen on cooperating fully. "Good job, you two."

Vera turned towards her. "Huh?" Her response came out small, choked, her face twisted in genuine confusion that bled into her voice too, but the woman paid her no attention as she simply proceeded walking. She jogged along to catch up with her, frowning. "You said you would tell us what's going on!"

The agent slowed her pace, tilting her head just slightly to address Vera over her shoulder as they crossed the blockaded area. "Will you finally get the hell out of here if I do?" she asked, her voice dripping with thinly-veiled contempt, the first sign of frustration surfacing beneath her calm demeanor.

Leon caught up in an instant. "We have friends trapped in the sewers. We won't leave without them." He was firm, leaving no room for discussion, and it was that determination that seemingly convinced Ada to drop it with a sigh, reluctantly stopping by an old brick wall, the surface marred with graffiti, posters, and dried up bloody handprints.

She glanced over at him, lips pursed as if debating whether to elaborate, then turned her head and pulled her sleeve to check the watch. "Just my luck." Her jaw visibly clenched, tense lines etched on her forehead, her annoyance apparent, and the way her gaze drifted off into the distance, lost in thought, until she straightened her back abruptly and faced them. "You might not make it out once you get down there. It's best if you forget about your friends and get yourselves to safety," she warned them matter-of-factly, dismissively, with none of her previous sarcasm, a subtle change in the pitch of her voice like a different person had taken her place, despite the jaw-dropping cruelty of her suggestion.

"One of them is a child," Leon countered, a twinge of disbelief coloring his words. It didn't escape Vera's notice, nor his wince at the way Ada tilted her head to the side in response. "We can't just..." A pregnant pause followed his words as he fought for the right ones, shoulders sagging. "You've seen what this city is like," he finished quietly. "We can't just merrily go on our way and leave her behind."

The woman hummed in response, folding her arms on her chest, and stared pointedly at Vera this time. "What about you?"

The question hit her like a bucket of ice, and her mind just blanked out. The shock must have registered on her face, because Ada just made a noise resembling a suppressed snort of amusement. "You don't seem the type to play hero like this one over here."

Ouch.

No, she definitely wasn't. That much was true. How'd Ada read her so well like that?

She wasn't selfless, heroic — she didn't do the right thing for the sake of it, like he did, no, she wasn't acting out on a moral compass, not really, she was... just selfishly sticking with him, so she could keep him safe and protect what she cared about. Nothing else. Was that wrong? She couldn't help that her instinct to preserve her own skin kicked in like that, but she refused to let him or Claire and Sherry die. She didn't want to lose any more people. For her sanity, or not. At most, she was just following his lead in hopes for a bigger payoff, and if they were able to get to them alive and healthy in one piece, it would absolutely be the biggest win she could get out of this nightmare situation, along with collecting even more evidence pertaining to Umbrella's illegal experiments, proving the company's crimes against humanity once and for all.

Everything was connected. It had to be.

But.

But she was aware it sounded bad if she had to voice any of it out loud. It was truly morally gray territory for her, but it didn't feel like a choice. Not a conscious decision. It just... was.

"It's not playing hero if I'm just returning the favor of saving my life," she murmured, crossing her arms on her chest with an exaggerated shrug, defensive, unsure where the answer came from but it sure felt true. "And what does it matter, anyway? We're all going the same way. Let's just help each other out."

Another slight head tilt. "Right," the woman said in a drawl, seeming amused and intrigued by Vera's answer. "My point still stands. I'm only trying to save you both some trouble and help you out," she added, walking ahead of them, stopping at the point where the road ended in a sinkhole, staring down at the construction site that led to the sewer below and turned her head to the left. "We'll take the long way."

Two things happened in Vera's brain at once: victory exploding in a colorful triumph of fireworks because holy shit, this whole FBI agent fucking wordlessly agreed to adding them to her party like this was some videogame, and dread crawling like an army of ants all over her body at recognizing what had Ada’s attention.

Gun Shop Kendo. Where Uncle Ken lived upstairs with his wife and daughter.

Her thoughts instantly raced on how they'd be faring and surviving in these conditions, a surge of fear pulsing through her veins like a shot of adrenaline straight to the heart.

Leon wasted no time and went after Ada, taking careful steps towards her side. Vera lingered at the edge of the sinkhole, eyes wide at the glowing neon sign above the shop, unable to move an inch further. The red color that flickered on and off cast a hypnotic haze to her vision, and in the midst of it, her legs moved of their own accord, propelling her towards the other end of the street without thinking too hard about it.

It was automatic. Unconscious. Like falling into a dream. Or a nightmare.

One foot after the other, picking up the pace as she advanced closer while Ada was crouching in front of the shop's door and picking the lock, her mind wandering aimlessly to those past moments of playing with Emma in the backroom of the store, Uncle Robert teaching her the ins and outs of gun care, Mrs. Kendo serving delicious, piping hot lunches that had Vera drooling just to think of, Marvin having to personally come and pick her up because she wouldn't want to go home after spending the day here with the family, learning something new and getting pampered by a woman who showed her actual motherly affection.

All those fun times replayed in her head on repeat like a nostalgia montage, but the smell of something rotten snapped her back to the present, a nauseating sensation making itself known in the pit of her stomach, threatening to revolt against her as she paused in front of the storefront, frozen on the spot, swallowing thickly as she eyed the corpse of the infected woman slumped across the shop window, blocking their path inside and to the backroom behind the counter where the stairs to the apartment were located. It had her wanting to scream at the sight of the dark, slimy substances spilling everywhere and tainting everything they touched, but she swallowed her own bile down as she gazed at the decomposing creature, barely recognizable at this point, so mangled and broken that it felt disrespectful to acknowledge it had ever been human once.

Did they all end up like that?

A wave of crippling fear swept over her, causing her whole body to tremble, sending a cold shiver down her spine, forcing herself to walk forward into the shop. As she stepped in, a soft 'click' echoed in her ears as the lights blinked on and she could see her surroundings clearly. The inside was deserted and ransacked, with all the displays lining the walls empty, tables turned, items littering the floor, and bloodstains covering every inch of the hardwood surface. The door to the display cabinet behind the counter was hanging loose from its hinges, creaking and groaning as the wind blew it back and forth, creating a ghastly rhythmic symphony to go along with the raindrops tapping against the windows.

The shelves and cabinets that were usually full with all sorts of knick-knacks and goods, now left empty, had fallen over during the attack that transpired here and were strewn about in a haphazard fashion; the register sat on top of the counter, with a trail of dried blood smeared across its screen, and a black laptop lay cracked open near the cash drawer. Vera kept going around aimlessly, not even thinking about looting whatever was still there, more preoccupied with scanning the wreckage in search of any signs of life - anything at all that would give her a glimpse of hope — but, seeing nothing promising, it suddenly seemed futile.

There wasn’t much she could do, except stare into the distance and observe the destruction around her in silence, trying to digest the scene unfolding in front of her without losing her composure and letting despair consume her soul whole.

At the very left corner of the store where the guns were on display, and shooting targets hung on the brick wall, she could see bullet holes and shattered glass everywhere, as well as pieces of shattered wooden frames lying around the area, remnants of whatever furniture might have once adorned the space. A note carefully left on top of the table pinned by a piece of wood caught her eye, and after approaching it curiously, she could clearly read the writing that was scrawled across its surface.

Kendo,

It seems like you've got your reasons for staying put, so I'll trust you to take care of yourself.

Still, if things get worse and your "other arrangements" don't work out, you know where to find me.

I'll do everything I can.

Jill Valentine

Jill! So she was okay, just fine! Relief filled her with happiness and comfort at reading it — the woman was competent and kind enough to make sure someone at this place she trusted was doing alright. That was great news. It also meant Uncle Ken was around! That cheered her up so much she actually found herself smiling for the first time since they got out of the station and it felt natural.

She was about to call for everyone when a muffled sound reached her ears, freezing her on the spot. People talking. Arguing.

She would recognize his grumpiness anywhere.

Without any further thought, Vera stumbled forward, sprinting towards the direction she thought she heard his gruff voice coming from, hoping against all odds that he was safe and sound, and turned the corner, out the door leading to the back street and into the rain again, and came face to face with Leon and Ada having their guns on Uncle Ken, who was also pointing his shotgun at them, standing in front of a barefoot Emma.

The relief she initially felt upon seeing that they were both alright gave way to sheer terror at the scene unfolding before her eyes, her brain unable to process anything other than the sight.

"Uncle Ken!"

In one second flat, she dashed forward towards the group as fast as her legs would carry her, ignoring Ada's sharp, "Stay back!" and Leon's shout of her name, and wrapped her arms around Ken's waist, pressing herself close to him, a choked sob escaping her mouth, trying to suppress another one when she took in the smell of cigarette smoke, soap, and sweat — and despite everything that happened today, the familiar scent of home engulfed her senses, easing her nerves and calming her racing heart.

He smelled like he always did after a shift, ready to cuddle up on the couch together and eat junk food while watching reruns of shows and movies they liked to critique, or have a discussion about all kinds of stuff while Emma did her homework at the dining table.

His breath left him like a gust of wind, like he couldn't believe what had happened, but still, after an exasperated huff, she could feel his solid body relaxing under her grip, and in that moment, she knew she did the right thing by reaching out for him. His free hand rested on top of her head gently, carding his fingers through her hair in an attempt to soothe her, murmuring softly in her ear, "Oh, kiddo..." And when she finally pulled away, she noticed tears forming, a tired smile appearing on his weary face as he took her in.

Vera couldn't hold it in, feeling no older than Emma, just as helpless and small as her voice shuddered, "He's gone. Dad— dad's dead."

The words made everything seem final, closing the chapter on what had transpired tonight, and she watched helplessly as his expression fell, a somber look passing over his features. He didn't say anything, didn't ask questions, just stood there in silence, absorbing everything she told him before taking another breath to compose himself, placing his hand on her arm.

"Step aside, we need to terminate her before she turns," Ada interrupted briskly, finger curling around the trigger at Emma as Uncle Ken pushed Vera behind and swiftly blocked the woman from aiming, shouting in defiance.

"Terminate her? She's my fucking daughter!"

Vera took a step back, really looking at Emma for the first time since arriving, and saw with horror that she was... uninjured. But... sick. Barely on her feet. She swayed precariously, sweat beading on her brow, white as a sheet, sleepwalking almost, unblinking, unaware. There were dark purple veins all over her neck, face, limbs, creeping slowly up to her temples as though they were trying to spread outwards and consume her flesh whole.

Oh...

She gaped, open-mouthed, at the young girl, unable to do anything else but stare dumbly, heart thumping loudly in her chest, a horrible, crushing weight settling down inside her lungs, paralyzing her muscles, rendering her speechless.

"Emmie, honey?" Her voice broke as she tried to reach out for her with trembling hands, stepping forward hesitantly. Tears stung and burned in her throat when she received no reaction whatsoever, not even acknowledging that someone was calling her name or touching her shoulder, so unlike her. Her beautiful brown eyes were almost milky, unfocused.

"Emma, sweetheart, I told you to stay put." Uncle Ken's gruff tone wavered, raw emotion leaking through his usually stern exterior, not tearing his vigilance away from guns pointed at his way either.

"Daddy..?" Her little raspy, frail voice whispered. A shaky palm held up the air, her head swiveling left and right, dazed and confused, lost, wandering through darkness in search for something tangible, graspable, to keep her grounded. It was for her parents. Of course it was, who else but the most important figures in her life would she yearn for, scared and alone and probably hurting, being taken over by whatever was happening to her inside.

For a fleeting moment, Vera thought she wouldn't mind being bitten by her. To share whatever pain she was experiencing. Perishing together side by side, holding onto each other's hands, because there was nothing she'd rather be doing in this world right now.

Leon lowered his gun, an unmistakable sadness flashing across his gaze and his mouth twisting into a frown as he glanced between them with sympathy and sorrow, reaching and putting a hand on Ada's extended arm, shaking his head at her. "Ada, just let them be."

And she complied, surprisingly, sighing heavily, though she didn't seem too thrilled about it judging by her pinched expression. It was only then Uncle Ken's tense stance loosened and he released a shuddering breath, shoulders dropping along with his shotgun, but when Vera looked at him again, she couldn't help but flinch back when her gaze met those hazel eyes that normally exuded warmth, now lifeless, dull, glazed over like those of a dead man walking, devoid of anything recognizable except for pure emptiness and exhaustion.

He passed by Vera, who didn't follow his movements and just froze fixated at the place he just stood, to kneel by Emma's side and embraced her small form carefully, tenderly, burying his face in her greasy, short locks.

She didn't reciprocate the gesture, letting her father squeeze her, not blinking, not breathing, just staring blankly at somewhere ahead, as her father rocked their bodies back and forth in a soothing motion, a comfort that didn't get through to her, not anymore, never again, and he must've known it too, yet refused to acknowledge it. "Yeah, Emmie. Daddy’s here. I’m here, okay?"

The sound of strained breathing was loud in Vera's ears, ringing in harmony with her thunderous heartbeat as the situation fully sank in, weighing down heavy on her entire frame, bringing her down on her knees, clasping her mouth, muffling the loud, ugly, painful sobs that forced their way past her lips. The wet pavement beneath her legs was cold and rough against her exposed skin, the frigid air penetrating her every cell with every labored breath she took, a biting, stinging sensation spreading across her body, burning like acid eating away at her flesh and bones, corroding everything.

She couldn't do this anymore. She just couldn't do it anymore.

Emma, little Emmie, the embodiment of sunshine. Too smart, too young, too good. Had no chance against the evil that befell Raccoon City that night.

Too innocent.

"Those fuckin’ things outside… Look what they did to us," Uncle Ken cursed, anger laced within every word he spoke, seething.

"Mo-mmy..?"

"Mommy’s sleeping, honey, okay? …Emma."

All her efforts, all her sleepless nights spent hacking into databases and infiltrating buildings, collecting evidence—all for naught, because of her stupid, arrogant negligence, acting all high and mighty when she had the privilege of avoiding living in this hell, not even checking in on the Kendos for one simple reason — convenience and cowardice. All she did was play detective and waste time looking for ways for others to succeed instead of using the tools at her disposal and saving lives.

Someone — Leon, she assumed, gathered her into his arms, pulling her into a tight embrace against his chest, shielding her, offering solace, allowing her to cry freely without any judgment or shame.

"Why did this have to happen to her?" Uncle Ken murmured, his voice cracking with regret, sounding broken beyond repair. "Why my sweet little angel? Why... why is there no justice in this goddamn world?!"

He didn't receive an answer from anyone in response, but Vera wondered what answer she'd give herself if the question was directed at her.

"Why did this happen? How did this happen, huh?" he yelled, hysterical, making her squirm uncomfortably in the blond's arms. "What the fuck do your lot exist if you can't provide help when it matters? What use are you!"

Vera felt Leon flinching back, his muscles tense from being confronted. Nothing was even his fault. Hell, this was his first day. And yet, here he was, on the receiving end of all of her Uncle Ken's frustration, like someone who was getting scolded at and deserved it, with the way he tightened his jaw.

She wanted to protest, to defend him and stand up for the rookie officer. Because the same could be said about her, not him — not Leon, who was willing to put his life on the line for strangers, who took action when nobody else could, who carried other people on his back, who was gentle and compassionate and empathetic and just so genuinely good.

Vera pushed away from Leon, wiping at her face hurriedly, the tears falling nonstop despite her best efforts, and threw a pleading look at her Uncle, desperate. Don't blame him, she begged in her head, over and over like a mantra, and she hoped she conveyed the same to him through her bloodshot eyes. Please don't.

To which, the middle-aged man just bowed his head and held Emma closer, his breaths ragged. His eyes glistened with unshed tears. This was the portrait of grief: a deathless loss of a loved one.

She stood up on shaky feet, wobbled to Emma and laid a hand on her father's arm, swallowing down the lump in her throat as she peered down at Emma's lifelessness. Vera took in all the details of her pallid face, committing each curve and feature to memory, afraid to miss out on something as they walked away. It felt like she had lost the only thing tethering her to her old life, like she was floating above a vacuum and if she allowed it, would just vanish into thin air, evaporating, disappearing. But she had to stay strong - it wasn't about her.

"What can we do for you?"

A beat. Silence. Uncle Ken closed his eyes briefly, distraught, but resigned, exhausted and tired of carrying all this burden that should have never been his to begin with. After a pause, he rose to his feet and faced them. He lingered on her with meaning, searching. Whatever he wanted to convey, it was lost on her, for the time being, because she could barely maintain eye contact with him as it is, with how overwhelmed she was with sadness.

"Just go, leave us be," he ordered softly, turning his back on them, clutching Emma close and lifting her up in one swift motion. "Don't come back, Vera."

A single drop rolled down her cheek, followed by many, streaming down relentlessly as she watched him disappear into the backroom with Emmie staring right at her without seeing her. This was it. There was nothing she could do, no comfort she could bring to him or even herself. The door slammed shut, the echo resounding throughout the alley and making her shoulders jump, the click of the lock loud in the otherwise deafening silence.

Gone. Just like that. No goodbye, no closure, just finality.

Yet another door between her and the people she cared for shut before she could do anything, another bridge taken away. Another loss.

She hung her head, focusing on her boots, too weak to even cry anymore. Everything felt wrong, off somehow, disconnected and faraway like an image fading into obscurity, slipping through her fingers like dust.

The first gunshot coming from within the room rang through her ears, clear and distinct, breaking the fragile peace surrounding them, the shattering noise ripping apart the fragile threads that tied her mind together. She shut her eyes tightly, squeezing them until her eyelids ached, gritting her teeth hard and digging nails deep into her palms until it hurt enough to distract from the agony in her chest, hoping that the physical pain would offset the mental torment.

The second gunshot came soon after, and with it, another piece of herself that broke away.

Leon was suddenly by her side, standing next to her as still as a statue, fixed on the door, stricken, strangled, like all of this was his doing, his fault.

He whirled around to face Ada, who Vera had forgotten was even there, a silent bystander to the tragedy. Her impassiveness, so different compared to him, showing absolutely no remorse, made her wonder whether this kind of suffering was commonplace for her.

"This is madness," he said to her, looking around wildly in search of answers he knew weren't there. "We can't let this go on. Someone has to put a stop to this, somehow, if there's a chance—"

He was stopped abruptly, a hand pushing against his chest, Ada's voice commanding and unwavering. "I won't argue with you here, but you should realize that there's nothing you can do. The sooner you accept that, the easier it'll be." Her face softened slightly as she watched him grit his teeth in frustration, frowning and conflicted, running a hand through his hair.

Vera couldn't help but agree with her on that.

He turned back towards the source of the noise, facing his demons, whatever he believed them to be, head on, headstrong, fists balled by his sides in defiance, and then pointed a finger at the door and looking at Ada once more, his expression full of righteous rage, and underneath the surface, a simmering self-loathing. "I want to find out what’s happening here. And stop whoever’s behind it. Helping people like them… that’s why I joined the force. So please, just— tell me—us the truth, Ada." He paused for emphasis. "Where are we going? Who did this? What do they want?"

As he demanded an explanation, a shadow crossed over Ada's features and her lips curved down into a scowl, she simply exhaled deeply through her nose. "This is so much bigger than Raccoon City," she said quietly after a moment, "you have no idea." She continued to stare him down with an intensity that Vera didn't understand. "But trust me when I say, the deeper you dig into this mess, the closer you are to the grave."

If her warning was supposed to deter Leon in any way, it had the exact opposite effect - his expression darkened and a muscle jumped in his jaw. "Well," he started slowly, deliberately, enunciating every word clearly and confidently, "let's find out."

Ada smirked at him wryly before glancing around at their surroundings, "You asked for it. But once we get moving, I'll need you to listen to everything I have to say. Otherwise you're just a liability, so make up your mind - follow my lead or stay behind."

Leon nodded grimly, but Vera remained silent, lost in her own thoughts. This was suddenly about assisting an agent in her mission than going in to help Claire and find Sherry, Leon's newfound objectives aligning with Ada's perfectly.

Vera had to talk about this privately with him at some point.

She was done with this all. There was no more fire left in her for anything - least of all a covert operation led by someone she trusted about as far as she could throw them. All of the people who meant the world to her had perished, all of them taken from her one way or the other, and her will to fight back had gone out with Uncle Ken, had died like the light in Emmie's eyes. Was it that selfish of her to mourn their losses and not think of anybody else in a time of crisis? Did that make her a monster? Wanting to handpick Sherry and Claire from a roster of infected innocents and escape unscathed?

Worst of all, she couldn't find the answer, and that troubled her most of all.

She had to insist that they still focus on rescuing Sherry and leave this to Ada, someone who had professional training and experience in dealing with this kind of threat. It was not their responsibility, and they would possibly only be hindering her goal if they kept doing this. Even though she understood that Leon had to help anyone in danger, she couldn't jeopardize her chances of finding Sherry. The young girl needed their help. They couldn't just hand that over to Claire and call it a day and follow Ada.

The woman in question made a motion with her head for them to follow her, walking down the back street that would eventually lead to the entrance of metal scaffoldings leading down to the sinkhole. Her strides were measured yet quick, and the other two hurried after her without question, catching up to her in seconds, going down the stairs.

She opened with, "Ever heard of the Umbrella Corporation?" after a beat.

"Yeah," he replied, scratching behind his ear sheepishly. "They make cosmetics or something? Didn't they get sued for animal testing?"

Ada huffed a soundless laugh from her nose, pushing strands of black hair behind her left ear. "Yes... well, among other things," she replied drily, amusement out in the open. "The company's been around for decades, doing experiments behind closed doors and creating illegal viruses."

The trio came to an abrupt halt when they reached the ladder going down to the platform leading to the sewers, Vera stepped back from the rusty water she accidentally stepped into that instantly splashed around with a disgusted face while Leon shot Ada a bewildered double-take.

"Viruses?"

"C'mon," she urged, jumping down expertly to avoid having the dirty liquid reach her clean shoes and landing in a crouch, her athletic figure swinging down with practiced ease and elegance, and left the both to climb down the rungs. Vera trailed after her without hesitation, huffing at the sight, wishing she could be as graceful as the woman. Not wanting to lose sight of her, she wasted no time, not even sparing a look at Leon and just nodding at him to join, the steel creaking under her weight but holding on strong.

"This one right here." Ada explained - like whatever was done to cause this was already over with, that it had already taken root in the city. "Turning them into mindless, cannibalistic and indestructible monsters."

"Great. Did they name it the G-Virus, by the way?" Leon's sarcasm was thick, it didn't suit his soft voice. Vera chuckled weakly at it, glad that he was trying to keep the mood light by making a joke, and Ada smirked at him, one corner of her mouth lifted slightly higher than the other.

"How very observant of you."

No, wait a minute.

That wasn't right.

The virus turning people into undead wasn't called the G-Virus. It was the T-Virus.

If a normal civilian like her was able to find out there were different strains out there with her limited resources and only her skillset at her disposal, an FBI agent would definitely be informed about the whole situation beforehand. If there were any existing viruses that were known to be fatal, such as the G-Virus, the government would surely keep tabs on its creators, researchers and distributors.

So if Ada knew about the distinction between G and T, then why would she lie to Leon?

As the three made their way past the piles of cones and sandbags strewn across the area, avoiding them deftly with little trouble, Vera picked up pieces of conversation in between their dodging moves, trying her hardest to concentrate despite her racing brain.

"My mission is to take down Umbrella’s entire operation." Ada clarified further to Leon, leaping onto the large yellow pipes, climbing up one step at a time. Vera frowned. Take down an entire organization? Why couldn't they do that in court? They should've had enough evidence to sue the company for everything they've been doing to people in Raccoon City. One singular agent wouldn't be enough to singlehandedly take on a multi-million dollar conglomerate like Umbrella. This just didn't add up. What did take down mean, anyway? What would she be able to accomplish? Vera initially thought she was here to collect evidence, but Ada was being vague about everything. What else was there to do?

Unless...

Unless she was here to destroy everything.

But that would mean... getting rid of the evidence, not obtaining it.

Oh fuck. Oh, fuck. This was a federal agent. Government agents did things differently. They would want to eliminate every piece of tangible, irrefutable proof that Umbrella existed, to remove them from history, erase them completely. This could be a cover-up. To eliminate leads that connected the government with Umbrella's corruption and human experimentation and to eradicate them permanently. That would explain why Ada was here alone, in the city during the outbreak, instead of the whole team coming in with armored vehicles and equipment to evacuate citizens and cleanse the streets.

That could be why she kept urging Leon, a police officer, to turn a blind eye on all of this, so she could finish this as fast as possible without interruption.

There was one way to test her theory. She would have to try.

"Hey, Agent..." she piped up, walking alongside the other woman. "Why so late? You know, the first reports of infection came around a week ago. Why didn't the feds move in immediately?"

It didn't seem like Ada was paying attention to her, too busy watching their steps and keeping watch. For the first few moments, Vera thought the question fell on deaf ears, until Ada slowed down to fall into the same rhythm as her, keeping a steady pace at the back of their small group as Leon ran ahead.

She sighed before responding curtly, "We always seem to be late. Ironic, isn't it? Since our job is stopping evil from taking root."

That sounded way too earnest than it should have been. Vera was expecting her to be defensive, or maybe shrug it off with a dismissive one-liner. This wasn't helping her case. "I... suppose. But, uh, where is everyone else?"

Ada shrugged, still refusing to meet her eye. "Things got messy real quick."

Yeah, okay. Vera tried, but Ada was adamant about this. Fine, she could work around it. This was a professional, alright. She knew what she was doing.

They finished descending down to the entrance of the sewers as the conversation between her and the agent ended, the tunnel in the size of an alley leading deep into the heart of the labyrinth, the area was damp and dark and moist, the waft of mildew, rot, and other smells Vera had never smelled before filled her nostrils, and it was suffocating, making the air thick. She coughed harshly into her forearm to get the gunk out of her lungs.

"Based on what you said, the sewer seems fitting," Leon spoke up after they entered the passage, sniffing his nose loudly.

Ada hummed in agreement, pulling the flashlight out of her vest, shining it down the hallways, and walked forward, gesturing for them to follow her again.

Before they began to make their way deeper into the bowels of the city, Vera tugged on Leon's sleeve discreetly, drawing his attention to her.

She jerked her chin in Ada's direction. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure," he nodded, casting a glance at the woman, who paid it no mind as they put some distance between them. "Is everything okay?"

When they stopped in front of a puddle of disgusting liquid Vera didn't bother naming, she lowered her voice into a hushed whisper, leaning in so only he could hear.

"Look, I know how hard this is for you. And I understand you want to do what's right for this place — help those you can save, make sure the ones responsible pay for what they've done. But the FBI agent obviously has her orders. If she wants us to tag along to get her job done faster, fine, but that doesn't mean we're obligated to stay with her." She saw his features contorting into one of apprehension, and she rushed to finish her sentence. "We really need to go for Claire and Sherry now. The longer we're out here, the greater the chance of them getting hurt and worse. There's no guarantee we'll ever make it on time even if we go straight for them."

She wanted him to agree with her.

She needed him to agree with her.

Instead, he pressed his lips together firmly in disapproval, turning his face away from her and clenching his jaw. She watched the vein on the side of his temple throb rapidly as he seemed to come to a conclusion of his own. When he faced her once again, the determination shone bright like a blazing fire, his decision set in stone. "We can do both."

Vera swallowed down the protests lodged in her throat, trying hard not to yell or break something out of frustration.

"We don't have the luxury or time for that right now. She won't do for us what you're prepared to do for her." She inhaled deeply through her nose, counting to three in her head and letting it out slowly through gritted teeth. No. The only way she'd be able to convince him to change his mind was by making him see that they would never succeed if they stuck themselves to a mission that was not meant to be theirs and was so beyond their capabilities. "There's simply no way in hell that she would assist us and prioritize a couple of random citizens above her official order, Leon. I mean, I would love for her to, but she literally told us not even an hour ago that we would only hinder her with our presence."

Her words fell on deaf ears, apparently, as he just smiled, actually fucking smiled at her. "Just you watch. Trust me on this."

With that, he patted her shoulder reassuringly and spun around to catch up with Ada, leaving Vera to glare after him in disbelief, the lights above flickering in tandem with her blinking as if to say, "Hey, you also seein' this?"

She squeezed her eyes shut. She should trust him. God, she wanted to trust him, she wanted to have faith in him so badly, because he was so eager to make things right and fix this hellscape. All because this woman had given him hope there was a possibility.

However, her gut had been screaming at her that there was something sketchy about this. But Leon was so damn hopeful, she couldn't crush it.

And who was she to take that from him?

Vera threw her arm in the air and then shoved it into the pockets of the jacket he'd given her, stomping after them, deeper into the dark tunnels, throwing yet another bait in Ada's general direction. "So, this leads right into Umbrella’s secret facility?"

But Leon, unknowingly, blocked her probing by addressing a question of his own. "Sewers are run by the city. How could they have a facility… without the authorities knowing?"

This would be the hundredth time today she'd be thinking, Bless his soul, about him. Even after finding out about Irons' corruption, he still believed. She tried not to roll her eyes out of fondness, the world from his perspective had to be so beautiful, leaders and those in power always righteous and moral, and everything bad happens without anyone meaning it to. Adorable. Vera would have preferred a world he got to stay like this, living inside a cocoon of idealism that protected his innocence rather than exposing the cruelty and coldbloodedness of the people controlling the strings behind the scenes.

Ada flashed her flashlight across the murky walls of the passage, not responding immediately as she scanned the perimeter for possible danger. "Welcome to corporate America. Umbrella’s controlled Raccoon City for years."

Leon visibly deflated, his face falling slightly as he took the news in. "Oh."

"Absolutely not. You are not jumping into sewage," Vera scowled, hands planted firmly on her hips as she stared down Leon, daring him to challenge her. This man was insane, and he would definitely jump in whatever the fuck there was in that disgusting, vile river of waterlogged garbage and waste, and die a horrible death of hepatitis and dysentery. Even a little cut could get infected down there, and a dip in that filth would be the end of him. Fuck, she was feeling a bit queasy just from the thought.

They were sitting ducks at the end of a steel catwalk ending in a drop into a tunnel nobody should take a swim in. There were no more routes for them to proceed through, and jumping into that would be suicide, there was no way in hell she was gonna allow that.

Leon frowned up at her, lifting his shoulders up to his ears, feigning innocence and acting as if he didn't see how stupid of a suggestion it was to jump down there like some sort of superhero in a B-movie.

"Unfortunately, it's the only way forward," Ada pointed out drily from behind her, sounding a bit ticked off, and then huffed impatiently. "Wouldn't even be surprised to find out that they designed this part specifically to kill whoever might be trying to sabotage the underground research lab."

The rookie officer pushed himself to his feet, dusting off invisible dirt from his trousers in a lame attempt to be nonchalant, sticking his chest out like a pufferfish. "No better way than to get to the bottom of things than headfirst."

"No, there is a better way! We can just backtrack and find another way in!" Vera exclaimed shrilly, raising her hands up incredulously, skin now damp from sweat instead of the rain, waving them around for emphasis. Leon shook his head, stepping closer to the ledge to peer down, and her heart clenched at the sight. He was actually considering it.

She jumped in front of him, cutting his vision off and poking him hard in his pectoral over his bulletproof vest, the pressure applied sending ripples into the flesh of his torso. "Stop, I'm serious. Let's look around some more— like, like—" Zeroing in on a vent grate with an opening large enough for them to fit through, she ran towards it and gave a quick tug, it rattled in her grip and slid sideways smoothly, with little noise. She turned back to him, gesturing towards the rectangular frame enthusiastically, almost bouncing on her heels in excitement. "—like this one right here, we could slip in! It has to lead somewhere!"

Ada regarded Vera with interest, tilting her head to the side at an angle in contemplation. The young PI stood still, trying not to blink in front of the agent, hoping she found this viable alternative more acceptable than diving headlong into a death trap, fingers crossed for herself.

Leon's lips stretched into a smile, softening around the edges as his expression thawed, he strode over to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, patting gently in poorly concealed excitement. Her breathing stopped for a second. She forced herself to gulp in air as subtly as possible to maintain her composure and not start gasping like a fish out of water, hyper aware of the body heat seeping into her flesh from the point where his fingers touched her bare skin. She flushed from the touch, turning rigid in the span of a millisecond and standing awkwardly as if she was carved out of stone.

"Nice find," he praised warmly, beaming down at her with what seemed to be pride. If this was the reaction she got out of him with that one move, she would gladly keep finding exits and escape routes every few minutes.

He then turned his attention to Ada, hopeful to hear her agree to this arrangement, and she didn't disappoint, letting out a faint sigh in reluctant acceptance.

"Good enough," she mumbled under her breath, seemingly quizzical about it for whatever reason. "Let's move."

Vera wanted to let out a sigh of relief, but refrained from doing so, instead opting to plaster a smug grin on her face, basking in Leon's appreciative gaze.

The trio crawled through the narrow ventilation shaft, each step careful, afraid the slightest miscalculation might cause the metal to crack and cave in. It didn't occur to Vera before, but the constant danger lurking around at every turn brought their survival rate from 40% to a staggering 1%, making it a miracle that they had come this far.

All it took was a snap of the wrist, or a loose screw. They could have easily slipped from the platforms they've traversed or missed a jump or fallen into an abyss. Any moment they could all perish, or one of them would become separated from the group, or separated permanently, in a most gruesome manner. They could be eaten alive or dismembered into chunks of meat while they screamed themselves raw, nobody close enough to hear or see them dying.

Was Vera supposed to be panicking? She probably should be. However, instead of fear, a rush of adrenaline washed over her entire being and spread throughout her system, and she felt like a high school student sneaking out for a late night drive with friends who brought alcohol along for the ride.

Their progress came to a halt when the tunnel began to widen in width and height so that they could at least crouch, revealing an opening at its end, light streaming through the cracks of the metallic barrier blocking the way forward.

In perfect synchronization, Leon's hand flew to his holster, flicking the safety button open in one swift movement, index finger poised above the trigger, while Ada knelt in the corner opposite to him, gun at the ready with the barrel directed towards the source of the light, one knee supporting her weight on the ground. In silent communication, she pointed at herself and gestured towards Leon in a sequence with two fingers, the cop nodding affirmatively, understanding the message loud and clear, before proceeding to crouch lower and slither to the front of the group and flattened himself against the wall.

Ada gave a count of five with her free hand, jaw locked and firm, and when she curled her pointer finger inwards to her palm, she yanked the blockade, sliding it sideways to the end of the bar and peeked through the space, lowering her aim carefully with no signs of a threat visible to her, letting out a barely audible huff.

"Okay, all good."

After ensuring there was nothing lying in wait to ambush them as soon as the exit opened wide, Leon hopped out with a bounce in his step, brandishing his shotgun this time, scanning his surroundings for any movement and finding none, pointing the muzzle in various directions, left and right.

Vera followed closely behind with a shaky breath, shaking off her nerves before hoisting herself out of the passageway, glancing around. They had stepped into the middle of a long corridor, which was particularly well-lit compared to the places they've seen previously.

"Left or right first?" She asked the other two, since there were bloody streaks on the floor leading towards an elevator down the hall to the left, and even more construction materials piled against the walls, cones and structural steel, along with bags of cement. Another large ventilation duct was positioned above them on the ceiling, which was big enough to use as an emergency exit if they found themselves in danger.

"Right," Ada decided, jerking her head that way and striding across, checking each individual nook and cranny with care, signaling them to stick close behind her. More cement bags, and a couple metal drums later, they turned the corner out of the corridor into a catwalk, only to find themselves at the very end of presumably the same river of waste Vera wanted to avoid in the first place. The stench that hit her nose as soon as she stepped foot into the area threatened to knock her out if she stayed any longer.

She pulled the neckline of her borrowed jacket to cover her nose, trying desperately to draw in a decent lungful of air, not bothering to conceal the grimace on her face anymore, triumph overcoming her repulsion at getting to take a breather from that vile odor. "You two owe me a thanks for avoiding that shit. Literally."

Leon, being the adorable ray of sunshine that he is, responded instantly to her teasing, flashing her a cute smile, cheeks dimpled. "Thank you for saving our asses from sepsis."

And not a drop of sarcasm in there. Vera could almost picture him using his sincerity to butter up his superiors and earn a raise or a promotion. Unwittingly, of course.

"So let me get this straight: Umbrella sells the things we've seen so far to who? Our military? Somebody else’s?" Leon asked Ada, who was leaning against the opposite wall of the elevator they're in, arms crossed.

"They don’t sell the things, they sell the viruses that make them." The agent corrected, her speaking was more leveled than Leon's, easy to miss among the grating sound of the elevator descending. She shifted her stance so that one foot was planted on the wall to brace herself against it. Those heels had to be uncomfortable, right? After spending so much time on them, at least? Though Ada had not broken an ankle, let alone stumbled walking on grates and unstable walkways, so she probably knew what she was doing. "To anybody who can bid the most for it."

"Sounds like you know a lot about the buyers."

"I work for them."

Vera couldn’t help it, she snorted at the deadpan response Ada delivered, quickly covering her mouth with a hand to mask her laughter, seeking Leon's face to see his reaction. Brow crinkled in surprise, and he whipped around to gape openly at the agent bored as ever.

"My condolences," She blurted out as an afterthought, wiping off the imaginary tears threatening to escape. "Who would have thought? The U.S. government does business with bioterrorists. Sounds like a win-win situation, am I right? Everyone gets something. Until one of those outbreaks happen on your own soil. Or somebody slips the wrong thumb drive into your own computer. Then you have an apocalypse on your hands. Shit happens."

Ada was blank as a clean sheet of paper. "Indeed. That's why I'm here."

"Of course, Miss Confidential."

As if on cue, the elevator slowed down to a full stop and dinged at the same time, doors creaking open agonizingly slowly, revealing a small room leading to a lone door directly ahead. There were no other corridors, nothing else of interest in their line of vision. It looked to be a machine room of some sorts, with exposed pipes lined up next to each other running vertically and horizontally, going left and right as far as the eye could see. The door opened to a smaller room — a passage? — with one more door to go through, and Vera could only imagine the purpose of this smaller room was, and then that door opened to —

A blonde woman kneeling over a body sprawled on the floor, contemplating and inspecting, muttering to herself, and Vera caught the ending of her sentence only: "Definitely William's handiwork."

Leon stopped mid-step, aiming his shotgun towards the unknown entity, shoulders hunched forward slightly. He didn't seem to trust this new addition to their little party, but then again, she seemed harmless, and he lowered his weapon halfheartedly. The woman hadn't even noticed their arrival, and upon further scrutiny, Vera realized her focus was solely on the person laying supine. Her clothes were somewhat similar to that of a researcher, judging by her white coat, the ID badge pinned to her chest reading "Annette Birkin", her pale skin was practically glowing under the fluorescent lights illuminating her figure, and her platinum blonde hair cascaded down over her shoulder, shielding her features partially, although they were sharp and angular.

"Not much time... Need to dispose of it..." The woman — Annette, stood up, brushing the dust off her coat with her right hand, still clueless about their presence, and movement in the corner of her peripheral got Vera's attention. In the chest of the corpse she was crouching over earlier. First, she thought it was the motion of breathing, but no, something was moving inside. Then, it pulsed, the organ (liver?) inflating to twice the size, expanding like a balloon and exploding, spilling a gross mixture of blood and something blue that looked like a drug, fluid oozing out of its ruined tissue, some kind of parasite coming to life from the innards of its former host.

And that's when Annette flicked a lighter in her fingers and dropped it right onto the monster, causing it to catch fire immediately, along with the corpse.

The smell. Dear God, the fucking smell. A putrid, sickening stench of burning flesh, human flesh, mixed with chemicals assaulted her nostrils, nearly making her gag and retch in horror and disgust as the fire lapped up the thing, setting it alight and melting it to... not even ashes, just to... a sculpture of it. Its body remained intact in form, but grayed and shriveled as the black smoke drifted upwards and dissipated into the air.

Sweet hells. These Umbrella experiments sure didn't skip out on the creativity department, did they?

Leon stepped between Ada and Vera, pushing both women away from the flaming monstrosity towards the opposite wall and raised the shotgun, ready to pull the trigger at the thing if it lunged. "Ma'am, I'm Officer Leon Kennedy with RPD, please get away from that."

This time, it seemed their combined presence had caught the scientist's attention, as she spun around in shock. Vera was fairly certain she wasn't expecting visitors, especially from three strangers, let alone law enforcement.

The woman pursed her lips into a thin line, taking a deep breath as her gaze shifted rapidly from the three figures gathered together to the grotesque abomination, and then she turned on her heel without answering, leaving Leon bewildered.

"Hey!" He exclaimed indignantly, gesturing wildly to Ada and Vera to stay behind while he gave chase after her. "We don't mean any harm!"

Harm? Really? All of them were armed. Even Annette, apparently, as Vera spotted the glint of metal protruding out of her hip, she must have had a handgun there.

"We're here for Sherry!" She heard him yelling out as she struggled to keep pace with him, slipping past the burning, now-dead, corpse to join Leon's side.

And that's what got Annette to stop. She whirled around to face the pair, face pinched, boring holes into Leon's skull. "Sherry? This is the second—what do you want?"

She spoke in such a biting tone, and her demeanor changed as if someone had flipped a switch. Gone was the woman who paid no attention to their presence, who was focused on disposing of a creature. Her attention was laser-pointed at Leon, staring him down as if he had just made an accusation against her character.

"We just want to help find her," Leon responded in a placating manner.

"Find Sherry?" Annette repeated, scoffing, clearly not believing a single word coming from the rookie's mouth. "My daughter is safe at home."

Leon and Vera shared a baffled look, each searching for an answer from the other. Annette didn't know? But Claire said she met her — and that the woman was more interested in finding William rather than protecting Sherry.

"Ma'am," Leon started slowly, as if he was trying to reason with a hostile threat, stepping closer to her and trying to keep his voice low in hopes he would be able to reason with her. "Your daughter is here right now. She's in serious danger—"

Vera witnessed the moment everything clicked for the woman. It was written all over Annette's face; realization flashed like lightning across her facial muscles. Her expression went slack, lips parting into an o shape as if trying to speak, yet no words came out, only a choked, strained gasp, eyes darting around in pure panic. "William."

Without giving them a chance to react or respond, she took off once more, footsteps echoing throughout the hallway she disappeared into. Vera threw up her hands in exasperation. They were having difficulty keeping track of all the people they came across. Why could no one wait for them for one moment to finish speaking before running off?

Leon took off in a sprint behind Annette, with Vera hot on his heels, chasing after the two. When they rounded the corner, the scientist was already at the end, punching numbers on a padlock on the double doors to activate the security mechanism. With a loud click, the electronic lock gave way, and she pushed one open, slamming it shut behind her.

Vera skidded to a halt and bent over to pant, lungs burning and head spinning, the lack of sufficient oxygen making her feel like she was about to keel over and die on the spot. As she struggled for breath, Leon stepped forward and jiggled the door handles furiously, grunting in frustration.

He groaned, slamming his fist onto the metal frame in defeat. "God damn it!"

"Claire," Vera croaked, clearing her throat after swallowing some phlegm in her windpipe. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth due to dehydration. She motioned with her hands for him to take out his radio and contact Claire, and he nodded vigorously, grasping the device and flipping the switch frantically, tapping into the speakers.

"Claire, you read me?"

Her voice came through after a series of static, tinged with concern. "Hey, Leon! You guys alright?"

"We made it to the sewers," He explained, exhaling sharply, and a happy noise Claire made was caught by the radio. "Any updates on Sherry?"

A pause. "Nothing since I last told you. But we should try to regroup, if possible."

"Sounds like a plan, but there's trouble, too. We just met Annette Birkin — it seemed like she didn't know Sherry was down here."

"That can't be true, though!" Claire protested on the other end. "I talked to her earlier, that woman didn't care!"

It wasn't the time for this. "You know what, the details aren't important. Point is, we lost her. She closed the door with a code, so we can't get through right now. We have to find a way around."

"Ughh—okay. Anything else I should know?"

"We came here with an FBI Agent, she's—"

Vera and Leon turned around in tandem in the direction of where they came from, only to realize Ada was nowhere to be found. Her footsteps were completely absent, neither light nor heavy, not a trace of her whatsoever.

#leon kennedy x oc #leon s kennedy x oc #leon s. kennedy x oc #resident evil oc #oc: vera kaplan #era: no time to die #story: gravedigger #resident evil x oc

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decaf-mother · 2 years ago

Text

"Chasing You"

Same universe as Stitched Hearts, Vodka Soaked Memory, Even When I Doubt You & The Canine.

Leon S. Kennedy x F!Reader

Important: Kitty is technically my OC however it is written as if you are her so it's still an x reader, her appearance isn't described, Kitty is bisexual and that is sometimes mentioned when I write her.

Warnings: Angsty, Fluff, Violence, Gun Mention

Leon moved with caution through the wreckage, breathing steady as he listened to every little noise in the environment.

Some form of an old lab is what it once was.

"Ada?"

He called out only to receive a distant slam in response, definitely not a great sign.

"Idiot. Moron. Fucker."

You muttered to yourself while gathering supplies, after being left alone with your thoughts you realized that Leon was going alone... He didn't have any back up.

"Making me chase after you while you chase after Ada. Fucks sake. If you die I'll never fucking forgive you."

The thought made your stomach churn and you've chewed on your bottom lip till it bleeds. Bag haphazardly tossed into the back of your vehicle you picked up your phone.

Using what you had been informed to do your best to track him down.

"God- I hate you."

Leon can take care of himself- you know that. Yet here you are putting the pedal to the metal to go after him.

Boots thud harshly against the floor and a figure comes into view, a woman dressed in all black wearing a mask. Something about her build and frame seems familiar-

"Kitty?"

Swift steps come toward him and the glint of a particularly large blade catches his eye.

'Nope. Not Kitty. That's not Kitty. That is NOT Kitty.'

Reacting fast he pulls his gun and fires at the mystery woman, she ducks behind cover in one fluid movement.

This will be fun....

••

None of this seems quite right, nothing with the whole Ada situation connects or adds up no matter how many times you rework the details in your head.

Stepping foot into the building you immediately hear shots and dart towards them. After all- getting yourself in bad situations is your specialty.

You round the corner to spot Leon narrowly avoiding getting hit with a bullet, how this man has survived this many years like this- you'll never know.

You eased into place by his side peeking around the crumbling concrete wall, he's a bit startled at first before processing it actually is you this time.

"Shit..."

You huffed and quickly grasped his arm as more shots were fired off in your direction, this unknown woman was certainly dead set on Leon's brains being spattered along these walls.

"If anybody gets to kill you- it's going to be me."

That was- mostly a joke. Your eyes settling on his face after saying that, a hint of amusement lining his features but there was something else there.

"Sure. Let's get outta this first."

••

"So- she got away."

"Yep."

"And Ada is-?"

"No idea."

"Fuckin' fantastic, Leon."

You couldn't hide your frustration at all at this point, fingernails digging into the palms of your hands until you were sure they would bleed.

How much longer can I go like this?

Lost so much... It never ends.

A need for a distraction hits again as you just have to get those nagging voices to shut up, ward away the heartache by placing your focus on anything else.

"Fucks sake..."

"Kitty-"

"I'm going to the animal shelter."

Volunteering to help out with the animals was a good alternative to sinking into the pits of hell that is your mind.

"I'm coming with you."

"Good. But I'm driving."

"That was one time-"

"Twice, Leon... Twice. I am never being in a car with you behind the wheel again. Something bad always happens."

You laughed softly and he did the same, shaking his head slightly accepting defeat- he's forever the passenger prince at this point.

••

One of the fluffy white dogs took a liking to Leon, some sort of husky mix. The entire time the big goof wouldn't leave him alone, leading to many shared smiles and laughs.

Your fingers absent mindedly stroking through an adorable golden retrievers fur as you watched Leon, an older lady steps over with a warm smile plastered to her face.

"Your boyfriend is good with animals as well I see."

Your brain momentarily lagged.

"Yeah- wait-"

The realization hit and your cheeks heated up a considerable amount as you acknowledged your mistake, quickly trying to correct yourself.

"He's not my boyfriend- just a friend."

"Oh- well that's a shame."

The woman remarked softly before heading back inside, you shook your head at yourself.

Jesus... That was awkward.

{EHEHEHEH-}

{@sofasoap }

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#leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x oc #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy x oc #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy x oc #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #resident evil x you #resident evil x reader #resident evil x oc #vee's resident evil works

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mandalhoerian · 2 years ago

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NO TIME TO DIE | leon kennedy x oc | 8

pairing: leon s. kennedy x oc word count: 18K~ warnings: discussion of suicide, grief, mourning, a doggo death, graphic description of gore towards the ending, mr x DUN DUNNN summary: In the aftermath of Marvin's burial, it seems all Vera can do is keep slipping up in front of Leon who stands his ground on prioritizing getting everyone to safety, but once the potential answers to all his suppressed questions appear in the form of an FBI agent, it's revealed that he indeed is looking for someone to hold accountable for Raccoon City's demise just as much as the next alive, suffering person. author's note: special thanks and dedication to @lucky-peenut and @mykobirb for the love and support and listening to me ramble about everything, and the incredible art they did for nttd & vera. i'm not worthy, but i gobbled it up like a man starved nonetheless,,,, am on my knees six feet down

READ ON AO3 ! ☆ NO TIME TO DIE MASTERPOST

“We should go inside,” Leon said, stepping forward to stand next to the grieving, dissociated girl so thoroughly drenched that the pink of her top was a whole other color. The puffs of mist from his breath blending into the air was heavier in opacity than his voice. “You’ll get really sick.”

There was no indication from Vera that she’d heard him. Leon attempted to swallow down the stacked rocks of guilt and pity and called her name, louder this time, uncompromising from the carefulness to not spook her, as he’d learned she was easy to startle.

He had to force his face not to sour in sorrow when she turned to him as if waking from a dream and not really comprehending her surroundings. “Huh?”

“We should go inside,” he repeated, reaching for her, but not really touching, just to get her attention to gesture towards the police station. “You’ll get sick if you stay like this any further.”

“Ah,” she smiled the tiniest bit, hollowly. “Sick, huh. Right.”

He knew what she was thinking inside. As if she could care about something insignificant as catching a cold at this moment.

There was a pocket of shelter a balcony above provided they could use to step off from the rain. Leon was able to at least get her to back off together with him underneath it, even if they had to stand close to the body bags lined along the wall. She was intermittently getting the shivers, and he wasn’t sure if it was the cold or the misery. Maybe both. The girl was missing a whole sleeve for god’s sake, and her bandages were getting wet.

So, he ended up briefly leaving her side to go get the jacket he was wearing prior to changing into the uniform, and Vera accepted wearing it with little to no protest – like some patient in a hospital not really conscious of what the nurses did to her.

It was a bit baggy on her and covered her hands until only the ends of her fingers showed, but if it did its job in warming her up, then the size was no problem at all, on the contrary, the material wouldn’t touch her bandages like this.

“Thanks,” she exhaled, yet, had that bitter, distant, thousand yard stare on her as she adjusted the jacket that he didn’t take personally.

Leon knew what he was saying and worrying about was so dumb from her perspective, but he had to look out for her, didn’t he? She was all that was left. Even if Leon had been a colossal failure this far at protecting people he’d sworn to aid, he couldn’t fall on his ass, let everything go and complain about it, he had to keep going – he had to keep trying his best and succeed this time. He had to make sure Vera was safe, and it started simple with looking out for her health so she had the strength to move forward. The girl wasn’t in the right state of mind to care for her wellbeing right now, so it was up to him to remind and support her to get back on her feet.

It just didn’t sit well with Leon how the situation was forcing him to go about it.

This really wasn’t how a person facing death of an immediate family member should be treated like, in a better world he would be helping her take care of herself where he was allowed, and giving her all the time and space in the world she needed while making his presence clear as someone she could confide in and seek companionship whenever she needed it. Steer her in the direction of therapy without outright saying. These things required time and labor of the heart.

He was endlessly uncomfortable with basically having to tell her to suck it up and move on and mourn when she was safe to do so. Hated the cruelty of it, hated more that Vera was in this situation in the first place.

Though, what could he do? God, if he could somehow guarantee Claire and Sherry’s safety to let Vera sleep and rest, he would let her stay by this grave as long as she needed to in a heartbeat.

But unfortunately, Vera had no time to mourn.

Leon couldn’t let her be, and leave Claire alone on her own to look for the lost little girl with a monstrosity on their trail.

“You would be right to get angry at me for saying this, I wouldn’t blame you,” he started, hoping to convey his sincerity. There was considerable distance between them even side by side that he had no courage to cross. “Because I am angry for having to be like this – that it’s this way. You should be able to get to mourn openly and feel those emotions—”

“I know there’s a but coming next. I’m aware we have to go, Leon. I know.” He couldn’t control the press of his eyebrows at the heart-wrenching frustration swelling up inside at her understanding. Vera should have been snapping, but all he’s receiving was a weary lack of reaction. “We have no time, right?”

“Yeah,” he said faintly, hands falling down to his sides, leaden, defeated, stomach in knots. “No time.” He bowed his head, unable to meet unwavering, sad, storm-gray eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, you did nothing wrong.”

When he looked back up, Vera wasn’t facing him anymore, looking up instead, her profile and the curve of her nose to him, completely ignoring the zombie horde ahead rattling the metal fence, towards the skyline of skyscrapers fallen in total darkness from what he guessed was power outage. He could only discern one belonging to the Umbrella Pharmaceuticals because of the glowing umbrella logo the whole country was no stranger to. He had no idea if she was searching for Marvin up in the sky or just didn’t want to see his face. Guilt smothered his whole being, but Leon didn’t blame her for not finding it in herself to face his way, be it out of disgust towards him or anger – because he was being his cruelest yet.

To a person who deserved none of it. A person who was being gracious to him despite all of his fuck-ups.

They stood side by side together for a while, her watching the rain and the buildings, and him the graves of Marvin and all the coworkers he was supposed to have, lost in their individual thoughts.

Leon had unwavering faith in the good in people, but the world didn’t seem to share that sentiment of his, in fact, it doubled down on them with cruelty, always some kind of carefully constructed tragedy meant to bend reserved for the most pristine of souls. He’d asked himself why uncountable times now, every time he had to put down a zombie and finish the job for good, every time he thought about the person they’d been, every time he caught himself being numb about it and no longer affected.

Raccoon City was hell on earth for delicate hearts that had unprecedentedly survived the initial plummet.

The only reason Leon was able to keep going and not lose it completely was the companions he had collected along the way – do it for them if not yourself, you have to help them, was a mantra in his head, especially after Vera and Sherry were taken.

And now he was back to square-one again, head bowed in shame, finding it an actual struggle to keep a watch Vera who hadn’t moved from the spot she was standing with the help of the shovel stabbed in the dirt other than occasionally swaying on her feet from lack of strength, the final note he’d handed her like passing on a torch that didn’t belong to him was neatly folded by her as if it was written on a thin layer of frost and put in her shorts’ pocket. She had read whatever was written on it and just stared at it with dead eyes for five minutes straight before he couldn’t take it anymore and offered to go inside – and it had broken Leon’s exhausted heart in a thousand shrapnel pieces tearing up his insides.

The cold spreading through his limbs wasn’t because of the rain or the crisp autumn night, it seeped into his very being from the loss weighing heavy on her shoulders and tying an invisible leash around her neck to a makeshift grave.

Leon had to admit he didn’t know how to support her going forward, let alone how to approach her right now precisely because of his apprehension about the correct way to give her the much-needed mental strength to endure.

This had to be one of the hardest trials of life he was going through, particularly since he was powerless to do anything to be of real help, or shoulder even a bit of the pain she had to be going through.

He wanted nothing more than to make it all go away, and having to live with the fact he had no control or a possibility of impact on the situation was a pill he couldn’t swallow, especially because he could have done things better — done better, overall, even if it was through steering the path to the best possible outcome amongst choices only made up of a sea of worsts.

Leon could have done something, anything – anything to not let a noble, good man die on his own like this, leaving a daughter behind who was forced to move on just to survive at a time she should have been mourning to process loss. None of this was fair. None of them deserved an ending of this kind. And heaven knows how many thousand people left in this city were in the same position, burned by the same fire, praying for help that would never come. He was about to lose his goddamned mind thinking about this over and over again.

The worst of it all was he had told them both he was here to help, and yet, done the exact opposite at every turn, a different shade of death he was unsuccessful to be a shield from was waiting around every corner.

Leon had been anything but helpful.

Hell, Vera had battled a monster and a whole serial killer on her own, and gotten right back up after getting hurt worse than he and Claire combined ten times while Leon was just. There. Useless the entire time. She was ground zero in both situations.

Jesus Christ, he was a failure. What was he doing?

“If you’re worrying about me, don’t. I’ve had enough of that. My dad wants me to survive, and so I will.”

Leon faltered; a bit dazed, gaze snapping right at Vera to see her nodding in bitter acceptance and determination, combing her wet hair back with a hand and swaying the handle of the shovel up and down to stab at the dirt in anxious energy. “I’ll do it so well he’ll call me a survivalist. Be a fucking superhero with that power, hell, I’ll even save you guys with it. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. He’ll see.”

Leon opened his mouth and almost said something ridiculous like, ‘Hey, what’s wrong?’ – but he halted at the last second, his jaw twitching to mutter, “That’s what the Lieutenant wanted all along, right from the start.”

“Yeah. He, uh,” she cleared her throat, gripping the shovel tighter. “The note. He… He said, uh – “

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No, its fine, nothing private. The stubborn bastard just repeated what he’d been preaching like clockwork. That he wants me to survive and live.” Vera huffed an unwilling smile, distantly nostalgic. “He could have written something sentimental, right? Like. Like I love you. I hate to be parting like this, I’m looking back at our memories together— I don’t fucking know, I haven’t… I haven’t written a suicide note before or anything but… But I’d rather have him blame me rather than leave a little note like he’s just going on a road trip or something.” She shook her head, lips twisting to indicate she was chewing the insides of her mouth. “I don’t know what I was expecting but. I don’t know. I guess nothing is good enough when you don’t get to say goodbye. It just feels so incomplete, like he’s off to somewhere and will be back in a minute. No real closure.”

Then, she thought about it for a minute, spacing out to the side, with it ultimately ending with her snapping out of it with the flutter of her eyelids and the raise of her eyebrows. “He said his goodbye. That’s all he’s been saying the whole time. So maybe his closure is all that matters and I need to not think about how he went.”

“Marvin was looking out for you until the last moment, that says a lot,” Leon said, tentatively. “He wasn’t gone fully.” Even right before pulling the trigger. But Leon couldn’t say that out loud. “I think you’re fortunate in that sense.”

Vera stared at him, dumbfounded expression just about to morph into offended, but not able to from how shocked she was. “Fortunate?”

“Ah – “ Leon stuttered, the words escaping him at her low tone. “What I mean is… Shit, I’m sorry, I…” He wetted his suddenly dry lips despite the abundance of rain in the air, under severe stress from how she was almost glaring at him, broken-hearted and distressed. “Of course nothing about this is fortunate. I mean that…” He opened his hands and let them slap back to his sides, completely given up. “You got to see him last as himself, Vera. He was your father until the end, and wanted to stay that way. I think you’re fortunate to be able to mourn that in these circumstances…” He sighed deep from his lungs, running a hand through his face. “I’m ruining everything the more I talk… You know what? Just – just forget what I –“

She was gazing at him like she saw something underneath that he wasn’t aware was there. “You don’t have a family, right?”

He blinked a couple times, freezing up. “What?”

“I remembered what you said underground with Sherry, that you also had no one.”

It wasn’t accusatory or mean-spirited, his shoulders deflated. “Yeah?”

“I have no clue if it’s reciprocated – but I know I get what you’re trying to say precisely because I know why you’re saying it from your position as someone like me, because yes, I am grateful, I am fortunate that I got to have a father like this, even though I didn’t deserve him at all—”

He turned to her slowly like a piece of metal gravitating to a magnet, utter disbelief washing over him the more she kept rambling.

Vera was one of the most confident and proud people he’d come across, the sudden display of low self-esteem was so out of character for her – even though Leon knew he might be being too presumptuous again, it didn’t suit her at all, like struggling with Mandela effect, or an eerie photo you knew something was wrong with at first glance. In his eyes, Vera was such a self-reliant and secure person in the face of every obstacle they’d come across together that he never would think she was capable of looking down on herself like this. It simply didn’t feel right to see her this way.

“Vera,” he started denying, the objection evident right from the start, but she didn’t let him continue.

“And you must be wildly frustrated to see me bitch and cry and hinder everything because, yes, you’re right, there must be people going through the worst of it out there somewhere—”

“That’s not true!–”

“Because I got to be happy, and I should be thankful for getting to be lucky—”

“Stop.” Leon said finally, a pointer finger hanging between them and lowering immediately when he noticed what he did, cutting her off harshly and feeling apprehensive and bad about it simultaneously. However, he had to. This was nonsense he had no tolerance for. “My situation, or anyone else’s, has nothing to do with yours, okay? It doesn’t mean you have no right to feel the way that you do. You’re allowed to be sad. I just wanted to say that—”

“I know what you want to mean,” she half-whined, half-muttered in disappointment, at herself, he could tell. “But I can’t find it in me to feel fortunate about anything at the moment even though I know what I’m doing is just complaining about gourmet food in front of a starving person.”

Leon wanted to kick himself. He shouldn’t have started a conversation like this. It would have been fine if Vera knocked him down a peg or two and put him in his place about what bullshit he was spewing but it had resulted in a whole hidden wound popping its stitches. “That metaphor is bullshit, you lost your father. It’s not about – don’t worry about me, don’t think about anyone else. You don’t have to feel guilty.”

“But I do. I feel guilty about everything, I don’t know what to do with it. I don’t understand him at all, because… Because I’m whiny, you see. I cut my finger with a knife and I call him to complain. I come down with the flu and the phone bill for the month skyrockets. I even had a defective insulin pen that had expired or something last month and ended up in the E.R. for the whole day and he had a night shift and I purposefully inconvenienced him so he would come and stay by my side through the pain knowing Irons would grill him for leaving. Point is I… I just lay it all down on him — and the fact that he has not only hidden this from me but thought me too weak to share his suffering and depend on that he resorted to this is… It just fucks me up.” Vera looked down at Marvin’s grave helplessly, the droplets of rain on her face coupled with her reddened eyes made it look like she was silently crying. “Yeah, it is a blessing to not have seen him turn into a monster – but it’s such a fucked up gratitude in the first place. To be loved so much to be given that privilege, and what kind of privilege is that in a shithole like this? He’s dead. He died with no one by his side, terrified, he thought he had to die first just to give me that.”

“I don’t think that’s all there is to it,” Leon blurted out, in a desperate shot to say something of impact. He felt obligated to share the speculation to put a brake on Vera’s spiraling thoughts, couldn’t just stand here and do nothing, all helpless and limbs heavy, as though shackled by invisible chains, rendering his attempts to salvage the situation slow and clumsy, futile, like desperately swimming against a relentless current that only pushed him further back, away from Vera. “It’s not about you being weak or undependable. He wouldn’t have ended it like this if he thought you weren’t strong enough to keep going. This is him saying he trusts in your strength and perseverance. He knows you can get through this. He believes in you.”

“Huh?”

“That’s why he was able to do this for himself, too, in a way, it goes both ways — doing this for you and for him, he saw that he could let himself go because you’d be alright even without him. He wanted to preserve his dignity. Go with grace while he could.” Taking a couple steps forward to stand by her side instead of staying in the respectable distance he thought was necessary, Leon also crossed the invisible boundary in his head. “And it was a win-win for him in the end, as messed up as it is.” He met her clouded stare, eyes thinning in empathy. “I’m aware it won’t make you feel any better, but perhaps somehow lighter. Eventually, maybe. One day.”

“Wow. That’s… the most messed up thing ever.” Her caught-off laugh and awkward head-scratch got his spine straightening in concern. “Kindest way to say it’s not about you I’ve ever heard.”

Leon was sure he went pale within seconds, and it had nothing to do with the air conditions. He leaned back, shifting on his feet. “Hey, I would never say something like that to you.”

“No. No, you wouldn’t.” Vera's voice quivered with bitterness and resignation, her attempt at a smile falling short of genuine. Her words pierced through Leon's hopes, challenging his desire to provide some sort of support, unable to help but question whether she was truly being honest or merely putting up a facade to spare his feelings, her tendency to deflect only adding to his unease.

Lost in his own thoughts, Leon found himself staring at Vera, searching for any sign of discomfort or underlying emotions. It took the gentle nudge of her fist against his chest to snap him out of his reverie. His attention refocused on her, his eyes meeting hers in a silent exchange.

"I’m thinking if it was you, you’d find a way to be the better person even in pain like this. But here I am—" Vera's voice trailed off, her words heavy with self-doubt and a tinge of regret.

Leon shook his head, dismissing the praise that felt undeserved. "You're giving me too much credit," he interjected, his voice tinged with a mix of humility and discomfort. "And being different from each other in grieving shouldn't be an object of comparison, anyway."

Vera arched an eyebrow in sarcastic contemplation, her gaze locked with his. "Why not? I feel like I'm not doing it right."

A sigh escaped Leon's lips as he struggled to find the right words. "I don't think there's a definitive correct way of feeling emotions. It's a deeply personal journey, and we all navigate it differently."

“I wish there was. And I wish someone would tell me what to do just this once. Guide me through it so I wouldn’t fuck up even worse than I already am.”

With urgency and a heart that sank impossibly deep into his stomach, Leon couldn’t stop himself from asking to enact the first instinct that took a hold of his body, “I could give you a hug for a start?”

And he received a lonesome, “No,” as an answer, a bit sheepish and taken aback, the sincere vulnerability stung his conscience. “I feel like I’ll just crumble if I’m held right now. And that’s not what any of us needs.”

“Okay…” he trailed off, restless, he would have rather gone through this alone than to see that expression on her face. “But if you ever—”

“I know, Leon.” She nodded. “Thank you.”

Leon realized what he thought was her needing a good hug right now was really just his wish. He wanted to hold her so badly to ease her pain in any way he could that it was overwhelming, a restlessness stirring within him at the realization of his desire to offer a hug stemming from his own longing, his own need to feel connected amidst the chaos. It wasn't solely for her benefit.

The response he’d gotten in return had hurt him worse – she should have been allowed to crumble, to have that, in the very least; it was her basic right, no shame or harm in it. He wasn’t even able to give that to her, but understood that she needed to navigate her grief in her own way, and none of it diminished the sorrow that was enveloping him, he just yearned to be there for her, to offer support in any way possible.

But she had just told him what she needed. That was his cue.

Leon held Vera's gaze, his expression serious and determined. "If what you need, like you just said, is someone to tell you what to do for now—" he began, his voice steady and reassuring.

"Just keep going," he continued, unable to hold back from placing a reassuring hand on the corner of the shoulder of her good arm – from reaching for her. Maybe it was for himself, but he’d gravitated to reducing the distance, anxious about the feeling in him akin to ships in the night drifting away. "Don't think too much. Not now, anyway. Keep your head here with me, here with us. And we'll figure everything out together once we're safe and sound, okay? It's not ideal, but you have to."

Vera nodded; her glistening eyes fixed on Leon's face. "Yeah. Yeah, okay," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Stay with me, alright? I need you to trust me in this and soldier on. Until the end of the line, at least," he added, his grip on her shoulder tightening just slightly and sliding to her arm for more comfort.

"I do trust you," she replied, her voice gaining strength. "You're right. Don't think. Thinking slows you down. Slow gets you killed. Yeah... His saying."

"Exactly," Leon said, a small, gentle smile playing at the corners of his lips. "That's exactly what you — we have to do. Gotta keep moving. For his sake."

"For Marvin," she echoed, voice catching slightly.

He held out his hand, again, another attempt, an urge to connect with her. "You with me?"

Vera nodded and placed her hand in his, the coldness making goosebumps erupt along his forearm. "Yeah. Together?"

"Together," Leon affirmed.

"Alright," Vera said, taking a deep breath, a sense of determination in there that he liked. "I think it's time we check in with Claire."

Here it is.

He knew she wasn’t ready to go. Because who could ever be? Even Leon, scorned by the relationship with his parents, had been endlessly devastated against his will after their loss despite claiming not in his better dreams that he could ever mourn them, and his life. And yet, the first time facing their graves, he’d been an abandoned dog at the door of his abandoned home, standing there for the longest time until his guardian had to take him away. It struck a personal cord in him to witness Vera going through a different version of the same thing, this kind of emotional exhaustion and the ripping of his heartstrings was a first in his life.

It was as Leon S. Kennedy that he wanted to take care of her through it, not as a police officer responsible for helping a civilian in a state of emergency. They were way past that relationship now.

"Let's go inside," Leon said, encouraging and soft, gesturing towards the building.

Vera hesitated, looking back at Marvin's grave. "I'll be back, dad," she said, bone-tired yet promising. "In a flash, okay? Try not to enjoy my absence too much."

I can’t afford to fail anymore, Leon thought, leading the way and pulling her along, feeling the cold of Vera’s hand warm up by his, hardened eyes not visible to her, I can’t let anyone down more than this.

The rain was somehow a blanket over reality, but you really couldn’t ignore the perfume of death upon entering the hall. The stagnant air was tinged with a putrid stench, a sickening mixture of decay and rot that permeated the abandoned police station. It clung to his nostrils, an inescapable reminder of the horrors that had befallen the once bustling hub of law and order, and it was somehow worse than seeing the body bags littering the garden outside. The more he stopped to breathe instead of pushing forward, the more the surrounding tragedy had the opportunity to seep into his every pore.

The last Leon had time to stop and breathe in this hall was when they’d found Marvin’s corpse. After that, it had been non stop running and hiding, chaotic shooting to stop the unstoppable nine feet tall giant bearing down on them wherever they went, and the gut-churning anxiety was just beneath his skin even though he’d seen that thing torn in half — the terror of being chased into oblivion echoed back to Leon from the walls witnessing Claire’s and his frenzied laps all around the station to shake him off.

That climbing fear of even hearing the booming footsteps of the man in the fedora and the overcoat approaching took over when he and Vera stopped to scourge the hall and put a halt on their momentum to talk to Claire. Shadows loomed large in his eyes, stretching and contorting as if alive and taking Mr. X’s shape, making every corner a potential hiding place for him and the zombies he let into the hall by breaking walls in his rampage. Darkened alcoves and doorways became pockets of uncertainty, concealing the lurking horrors that may pounce at any moment.

“So it was the sewers after all,” Claire informed them, shuddering audibly. “The smell wasn’t lying.”

Leon and Vera grimaced in unison, sharing a glance, she was sitting on the couch previously occupied by Marvin, elbows on knees, her backpack at her feet. In her hands was a custom silver Beretta left behind by him they’d only noticed was there after coming back to the hall. She hadn’t let go of it once upon finding it, turning the gun around and examining it in something stuck between a discerning, artistic eye, and melancholy. It was what he’d shot himself with. Leon couldn’t imagine the flurry of feelings she must be going through having that in her possession, but as of now, all of that had faded away into concern and disgust Leon was sharing.

Sewers. Holy shit. Literally.

“I didn’t really understand before I found a map for good, because let me tell you guys, this place is a fucking cave system. I don’t know how the whole city isn’t collapsing in on itself from how much they’ve dug underneath it and I don’t know why they felt the need to make it, like… intricately big either. Not exaggerating.”

“Fucking Christ Claire,” Vera waved at Leon to come closer so he could extend her the radio, and he obeyed. “I sure hope you didn’t roll around in anything questionable.”

A sharp puff of air left his nose at her remark, knowing it was her way of coping with the stress and danger of the situation — her own way of asking Claire if she was okay. He had received plenty of that by now to recognize the pattern.

“Well, don’t expect me to come out smelling like roses after this.”

Vera leaned into the walkie-talkie, a wrinkle in her brow. “No—Claire. Even with a tiny open scratch, you can become septic real quick if that shit gets into your bloodstream!”

“Ba-dum-tss,” Claire said, slightly unimpressed.

“I’m not joking.”

“Yeah, sorry.” The answer was a bit higher in pitch and apologetic, but still lighthearted. Perhaps Claire had expected quipping back and forth with the girl like how they’ve been so far, but Vera was really not in the mood (for obvious reasons), letting it go by setting a boundary in one sentence without making Claire feel bad about it. “I’m taking care of myself. Don’t worry. But again, get ready for me to reek like a Ninja Turtle when we meet up.”

Leon didn’t want to pester and pressure her into panic, but he had to ask. “Anything about Sherry? Her mother?”

“Unfortunately, still looking.” She sounded worried beyond being troubled. “There are things here other than just zombies, weird creatures — that skinless thing’s kind, but different.” Her sentence was over, but at the last minute, she added, “Not sentient like Mr. X, by the way. I was barely able to look around for good because of them. And I can’t help but worry, what if she jumped into sewage waterways to get away?—”

“Hey, Sherry is a smart girl, not a clueless child,” Leon interrupted. “She managed to make it all the way to that underground system on her own, remember? Unharmed.”

“But not with a monster chasing her — and… I can’t believe I’m saying this but she called it her father, you guys.”

The reveal fell between them like a flashbang, freezing the two in stunned silence.

Amidst the distant sounds of occasional groans and footsteps, the eerie silence hung in the air, unnaturally still, amplifying the snapping moment of the tension, as if the very building itself held its breath.

Vera’s entire spine straightened, sitting upright as if she’d swallowed a rod and looking like that too, not even questioning if she heard it right, like Leon was. “Oh what the fuck.”

“That thing was a man and it was Sherry’s father.” Claire’s static-crackling voice stumbled on her words, a hypothesis she was trying to make work. “The more I think about it the more it makes sense. Sherry’s mother, Annette, she… William, she said. About the creature responsible for making the elevator fall and rampaging. The reason for the misplaced interest in the ‘creature’ — all those weird questions she asked me is because it’s her husband.”

Leon was feeling more and more like he was hit by a vehicle on the road, getting up disoriented and not knowing what happened to him. “That means we just ran away because he simply looked like a monster.”

And thought he naturally would harm them.

“I fought back because he tried to fucking kill me,” Vera shot back, eyes darting everywhere, defensive yet hesitant, emphasizing with a jerk of her hand that held the Beretta. “But,” her voice got small. “But he did say something that lowered my ground enough that he almost got me. He said help me. He clearly said help me.”

“Good god,” Leon groaned, throwing his head back and staring up, despair creeping in. All that realization had accomplished was throwing at his face question after question.

What could have possibly turned the man into that?

If he was himself in there, just a father seeking his daughter, were others they’d come across like this too? They knew nothing about this outbreak, he was actively trying not to think about it and all the types of monsters they’d come across so far — how weird it was that it wasn’t just zombies, and now the absolute worst nightmare they had been ignoring so far for the sake of their sanity was closing in: humanity of these things — that calling them things simply because they were of unknown origin felt … wrong. “I’m getting a headache.”

Could Sherry’s father have been on their side all along? Or was Leon being way too hard to see some semblance of light in this hell?

“I feel like Sherry’s mother knows something about this,” Claire continued. “She was so professional, so about damage control. I can’t shake the feeling off.”

Leon didn’t want to assume the worst. Not anymore, at least. This entire thing had flipped his stomach upside down. “What could she possibly know? She could have been tracking her husband after whatever the hell it is that happened to him, that’s personally motivated. I think all of us can understand her what she’s going through—”

His jaw hung open in the shape of the last word coming out of his mouth when Vera cut him off, quite sharply, too. “We are getting ahead of ourselves here. Let’s focus on Sherry for a minute instead of exchanging theories about her family. It’s the kid who’s in danger, regardless of her father’s hypothetical intentions.”

“Alright.” This was the first time Leon had seen her express genuine anger since the revelation about Marvin’s turning, and it was for the sake of another person, a child. And she wasn’t wrong in wanting to progress. He accommodated to keep up with her pace, somewhat pleasantly surprised that Vera was focused and in the moment. “Can we assume all of this means the father wouldn’t harm her?”

Her forehead wrinkled in tension and her lips pulled sideways in a disapproving frown. A click of her tongue had preceded her sentence. “We can’t assume anything. For all we know, he’s been completely turned like all those undeads and creatures, but is going after Sherry because there’s an attachment there and it’s acting as an instinct—”

Leon couldn’t stop the nagging in his head from spilling. His words overflowed with urgency, gestures emphasizing enthusiasm and desire to be heard. “But what if, Vera, I can’t— We can’t just shut our hearts off to it! Maybe he isn’t chasing Sherry, but just trying to get to her… Maybe he attacked us because it looked like she was being abducted? We were strangers and he is her dad. And—And he could have appeared back there and killed Mr. X to keep Sherry safe.”

Vera had blatant distaste plastered on her face and Leon knew this was just going back to square one, but what if they could help him? Help this whole family?

Claire’s voice buzzed from the radio at that point, a bit depressed yet curt and decisive. “It’s not about that.”

He froze. “That’s… you sound certain.”

“I guess it’s right here that I tell you about something called the G-Virus.” Vera took her forehead in one hand and let out a dejected sound as Leon was fully alert to Claire’s explanation. “Remember when Irons mentioned it?”

Leon said, “The what now?” but the way Vera was acting had him squinting his eyes at her, even though she was looking down at Marvin’s gun, expression hidden.

G. This was the third time he was hearing about it, each time with increasing suspicion of what importance it could be holding. Hell, Irons was paid to protect the production of this G thing by the sender of the emails — he was ordered to get rid of his own subordinates, he wasn’t misremembering this.

“I found a report here in an office Annette disappeared into. Report on some kind of experiment.” As Claire went on, Leon bent down to search Vera’s bags for the files he had taken from Irons’ office under her shocked gaze. “It… It explains what Sherry’s father is. And some of the creatures I’ve seen here. As well as what he might want with her.”

Everything beyond the experiment part of the sentence flew right over his head the moment he heard it.

Experiment. Experiment? The disease swallowing up this whole city, discriminating fully against the innocents, was made? It wasn’t an accident, it wasn’t some apocalyptic event — it was created intentionally?

Leon's voice quivered, barely suppressed shock and anger bubbling in his skin like blisters, and he didn’t realize the hand he was holding the radio was shaking as well while he kept going through the bag in jerky movements. "So this outbreak, this chaos, all the death and suffering... it was all a result of a goddamn experiment?"

Claire sighed. "I can't say for certain about the outbreak itself, but this report, it's mind-boggling. Let me just read you a portion of it—you’ll know then."

Leon was growing more urgent. "Go ahead, Claire."

Half of the contents of those exchanges had slipped his mind, and he had to make sure if he was remembering right.

“The G-Virus clinical trial will be entering its final phase very soon. Before ‘G’— the new creature that will surpass humans — is born, allow me to predict a few things about its biology and biological functions—”

“New creature that will surpass humans,” Leon repeated incredulously, now holding the copy of emails he was looking for.

Vera reached for the papers. “What is that?”

“See for yourself,” he handed it to her, looking up from his crouched position, monitoring her closed-off expression quite closely while also following the lines she read he’d gone through already.

Police Chief Irons,

As thanks for your unwavering support, I have deposited a small sum into your account, to use as you see fit. I hope I can count on you to maintain surveillance over your subordinates, especially the ones who survived that mansion. Get rid of them if you must.

W. B.

His gut was telling him something.

W.B.

Who was this?

As Claire continued reading, the words painted a disturbing picture. "About Intelligence," she went on, her voice tinged with concern and dread. "The subject's intelligence will begin to drop immediately, with their linguistic abilities disappearing within a matter of days. Finally, they will lose their capacity to reason and their humanity. G will be a creature of pure instinct, driven only by a need to survive and reproduce."

Subject. Intelligence deteriorating. Loss of humanity.

Police Chief Irons,

I ran into some trouble with HQ. The suits want to take the fruit of my research away. But don't worry, this will all blow over soon. You just keep doing what I tell you to and everything will be all right.

W. B.

This was unreal.

Who could do this to someone, call them subject — such dehumanization that was bordering on the violation of human rights.

He couldn’t wrap his head around any of it.

Inside, Leon felt his own mental state teetering on the edge of a breakdown., barely finding it in him to stop Claire and ask a million questions he knew she had no answers for, yet Vera was only tight-lipped, face slightly pale, a simple crease between her eyebrows as she scanned the mail exchange — handling everything a lot better than he was.

Police Chief Irons,

You are to up the security around my lab. Your muscleheads are to shoot any suspicious person on sight. Doesn't matter if they kill them, or even if they're employees. I'm so close to completing G, and no asshole is going to get in my way.

W. B.

Claire continued to divulge the disturbing details, the implications of their discoveries growing even more unsettling. "Physical abilities say... Due to its unusually accelerated cell division—evolution—it will be highly adaptable to any environment," she explained. "Furthermore, with its amazing ability to repair itself through regeneration, it will be extremely difficult to completely kill it with any conventional small firepower."

Leon's mind raced as he connected the dots. Sherry's father, William, had displayed the same remarkable resilience. Despite Vera's relentless barrage of bullets, he had refused to be taken down. It seemed that William and the relentless Mr. X shared a common trait—they were both seemingly indestructible forces.

Were they part of the same experiment, different subjects of the same twisted research? It appeared that this was the true nature of their enemy, the reason behind everything they had faced so far. But what about the zombies? What role did they play in this web of experiments? Were they yet another gruesome creation?

Lost in his thoughts, Leon found himself needing to ground his racing mind. He placed his hand on the ground and slowly rotated his body, settling into a seated position with his back against the couch, his body shivering from a mixture of cold and emotional turmoil. Pulling his knees towards his chest, he rested his elbows on them, his freezing fingers flexing. The surreal nature of their discoveries was starting to overwhelm him, and a numbness began to seep into his being.

A brief moment of silence caused by nobody knowing what to say passed, which Claire had to interrupt. “You guys are awfully reactionless.”

Leon's eyebrows furrowed, his focus shifting entirely to Vera as he sensed her inner struggle. He took a deep breath through his nose, trying to maintain his composure while searching for any signs of vulnerability in her forced blankness. He couldn't ignore the tight grip she had on the paper or the intensity in her gaze.

Police Chief Irons,

Get your shit together and do your fucking job! I TOLD YOU I need more security in the sewers! Don't you know how critical of a time this is for me!? As for the money, I can pay you whatever once I take over, but not before. Why don't you get that!? Never forget how expendable you are.

W. B.

“Oh I’m reacting, alright.” Leon took a huge breath through his nose, nostrils flaring, trying to wash away the sudden surge of exhaustion. “Having a hard time processing is all.”

Vera nodded silently, her distant pensiveness apparent. She carefully passed the emails back to him, and he couldn't help but give her a confused look, curious about her reaction to what she had just read. "It's all a bit hard to make sense of," she finally spoke, her words devoid of any commentary on the contents of the emails, but Leon understood her restraint. It wasn't the right moment to delve into the details when Claire was providing them with crucial information. There were more pressing matters at hand.

Claire's voice held a touch of irony as she responded, on the verge of laughter. "You're telling me that after everything we've seen?"

“I don’t know.” Leon watched as she fumbled with her words. “Everything’s bizarre at this point.”

His concern deepened. He could sense there was something more, something weighing heavily on her mind, but couldn’t really ask.

“Then you’re about to short-circuit because of what I’m about to tell you—” Claire's voice took on a more serious tone, dripping with worry. "This is the most concerning thing I've come across in the report, and it's directly related to Sherry. It's why I felt compelled to share this with you in the first place."

Leon's posture straightened instinctively, one leg stretching forward as he leaned in, his hand propping up the radio against his mouth. "We're listening," he said, his voice steady but filled with scared apprehension.

“Here goes,” Claire began. “G's most remarkable feature will be its intense desire to reproduce. It will instinctively search out humans with DNA that closest matches its own and implant an embryo in them. But the chances of success are very low and if the DNA is not a close enough of a match, an underdeveloped G creature will be produced instead.” A couple heartbeats passed before she gave them the most important and relevant point to this report. “I suppose the only ones who might be a close enough of a match would be any biological children of the subject, though…”

A sickening feeling gripped Leon's stomach, his hopeful vision of helping just one more family out of this hell-pit contorting into one of unsalvageable despair, he ran a hand down his face in defeat. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Please tell me by reproduction and embryo you don’t mean the usual way.” Vera sucked her teeth and leaned down, starting to rearrange the contents of her bag, closing the zippers. “For fuck’s sake this is the only instance I want it to go the Alien movie route or something, just not—“

Claire also didn’t want to think about any of that, it being obvious from how she cut into Vera’s train of thought. “I have absolutely no idea what any of this means. I’m just telling you it matches and I don’t think Sherry is safe from him.”

“W.B. is William Birkin,” Vera blurted, all of a sudden, a random bursting rather than an exclamation of horrified dawning, she met Leon’s petrified look with a regretful grimace of all things that did not fit the mood at all. “Sherry’s father is the creator of this G-Virus. Of course she isn’t safe from him. Shit, he fell victim to his own creation.”

Leon just stared up at her, rendered speechless, the scattered clues he was sensing were there lining up by a new order that made sinisterly more sense. What once was proof against Irons was now contextualized by a new layer of horror.

Vera didn’t know just what she had done to him with that — what she had given him.

Up until now, he was pushing his exponentially growing frustration at the end of his priority list, the relentless ache within his chest, a yearning for answers that seemed forever out of reach. The longer this nightmarish world failed to take him down with it and kept throwing tragedy after tragedy at his face, the more he longed for someone or something to hold accountable — for a utopian justice in the horizon where there was a definitive bad guy in all of this. He craved a tangible target for his pain, a face or a name to direct his anger towards.

But in the midst of the mayhem and suffering, Leon found no such outlet for his emotions. There was no specific person to blame, no entity to bear the burden of his wrath. It was a maddening sense of helplessness that gnawed at his soul that had only pushed him to just keep going. Keep going and focus on protecting everyone – which he had colossally failed at.

The aftermath of Marvin's tragic end and Vera's profound grief had left an indelible mark on his soul, and for their sake alone, he coveted an epicenter to project his sorrow onto, a focal point for his thirst for justice — he wanted to inflict the same pain upon another of a young girl burying her own father. The shattered fragments of a broken family, the disintegration of love and trust — it all demanded retribution, someone had to answer for this, right? But the cruel reality was that there was no one to condemn, no one responsible to direct his anger towards. The vast unknown loomed before him, shrouded in darkness and secrecy.

The frustration burned deep within Leon, fueling a self-loathing that threatened to consume him, berating him for his lack of knowledge, for his inability to make sense of the senseless, for not being able to do anything about it. The weight of his ignorance crushed him, leaving him feeling utterly useless in the face of the horrors that surrounded him. He yearned to be of help, to find solutions and bring justice to the darkness that plagued their lives. But without the knowledge, without the answers, he felt lost and powerless.

What Vera had done just now, was pointing at something — someone, and telling him this is it. A face. A gravitational point in the middle of directionless chaos.

And it was a dangerous thing to do, even if she was theorizing. Because Leon would take it and run with it, run after it, when his goal was to get as many people as he could out of this city.

It was Claire’s crackling voice that shook him off from his daze. “What? What are you talking about? What do you mean it was William?”

“I’ve heard enough.” Leon stood up, signaling Vera to follow him, that he was point and she was his six, making for the stairs on the right, the route in mind being the Chief’s office and the parking garage. “Claire, move out. We’ll meet you in the sewers.”

“How will you—”

“We’ll figure something out. You focus on protecting yourself and finding Sherry, okay?” I told you I need more security in the sewers, was what the mail read. Whether W.B. was William Birkin or not, a good chunk of paid-off officers were patrolling the area, something valuable was being protected. “And be careful. The sewers aren't as insignificant as we thought. Irons was taking bribes to guard that place because this W.B. person was working on that G-Virus of yours in there. I think that’s the reason why it’s crawling with the monsters you’re talking about.”

“W.B. as in William Birkin?” Claire wasn’t letting it go, and it put a scowl on Leon’s face. “You’re saying Sherry’s father is responsible for this mess?”

“That’s what the evidence suggests.” Vera stepped beside him to talk closer to the radio as they entered the waiting room. “How else can there be a singular, different entity out there that’s just the odd one out and unexplainable? Randomly appearing? William was the creator and he somehow came into contact with the virus and became that—”

Leon was about to creak open the door leading to the east hallway, but he halted, turning around. She wasn’t reaching. He knew she wasn’t. But everything in him wanted to reject it for his own sanity instead of jumping headfirst into it, he just couldn’t do this without definitive proof of it first, or it would remain eating him up from the inside slowly. “Bit of a stretch, don’t you think? We saw the lickers, the dogs—”

“The dogs?”

“The dogs. Mr. X.” Opening the door, he checked the perimeter, pointing his flashlight and simultaneously Matilda at both directions in the hallway. “Not necessarily a pattern, is it? William could very well be another—”

“William and Annette are scientists.” Vera jogged to be next to him again, and extended her hand as if she was pointing at something obvious between them, matching Leon’s walking pace as he marched towards the now opened shutter that previously separated Irons’ safe area from the rest of the station. “They are virologists.”

“Oh.” God damnit. “Could be a coincidence.”

“Why are you so adamant on rejecting it?”

Claire trailed in. “You guys—”

“Why are you so insistent on it?”

“Because the dots connect themselves, Leon—”

“No, you connected them.”

“Because it was right there.” Vera was taking this quite personally, a spark of paranoia in there that Leon didn’t get why it was there, following him into Irons’ office fervently and leaving the door wide open behind her. “Why are you being suspicious?”

This was unsettling him, leaving him with a nagging sense of unease. What was it about this connection that she felt so strongly about? It was a dangerous path to tread, one that could consume him with unjustified suspicion and mistrust if he allowed it.

Claire tried again, her static-delivered voice hesitant and uncomfortable. “Helloooooo—”

“Why do you think? What am I — what are we supposed to do with this information?” Instead of circling around her, Leon reached forward to put his palm on the door and shut it, he hadn’t meant that to be an intimidating move that half-caged her against the door, only noticing it when her eyes grew wide, and immediately backed off the moment he noticed it was as if he’d just walked right into her face in a confrontational manner. “If I even remotely consider this, I won’t be able to leave it alone. I will want to get to the bottom of it. And it’s not exactly the right time for detective work to expose evil — we don’t even have concrete proof in the first place. So, let’s not do this right now, yeah, Vera? Let’s just save Sherry and get the hell out of this city.”

Her body, once poised and confident, seemed to instinctively tighten, a subtle tensing of her muscles that betrayed the impact of his words. Her gaze, once steady and unwavering, momentarily averted, darting back to meet his, shoulders drawing slightly inward, as if seeking shelter within herself, and a flush had settled on her cheeks, coloring her complexion with embarrassment.

Leon felt like he got punched in the stomach.

What the hell are you doing? She’s just trying to help — and after Marvin too, you asshole, you fucking dick.

“I’m sorry.” He raised his hands in an apologetic manner, eyebrows lowering softly along with his tone. “I’m sorry. I got heated up—”

Vera cleared her throat, looking away, and then looking back at him again. “No, it’s fine.”

“It’s not, I’m—”

“No, you’re right, Leon.” Vera offered a small nod, her features softening as she refused his words, genuinely in the opinion she’s sharing and not one touch of sarcasm in there. “If anything, I’m the problem for going all conspiracy theorist on this. What are we, some ragtag team of neighborhood superheroes or something? I didn’t even mean to suggest an investigation in the middle of all this, but now that you say it, I should have kept to myself instead of running my mouth. It’s just making everyone paranoid.”

She was looking for someone to blame just like he was — more than he was.

And it was in Vera’s job description to tie loose threads, of course she was big on speculating and taking ideas to places, brainstorming until she got where she needed to be. Leon had taken this way personally than it needed to be, so unprofessionally at that.

The internal turmoil had his heart aching. “There’s no—”

“Are you done quarreling? I would like to leave,” Claire said finally, taking the opportunity to wrap this up.

“Oh…” He was even more embarrassed at her disappointed teacher tone, if it was possible. “Yeah, Claire, sorry about that…”

Thankfully, she didn’t continue commenting on the argument, possibly in favor of not wasting any more time. “Stay safe, you two.”

“Will do.”

Her disconnection from the line left Vera and Leon standing awkwardly in silence.

She was the one to salvage the situation, starting to walk backwards, footsteps muffled on the thick oriental rug, she gestured with her head while adjusting her backpack. “We should be on our way as well.”

Leon internally sighed with relief. “Yeah.”

“Let’s hope Claire finds Sherry before we get there because it might take a while.”

God, Leon hoped so as well. This was merely a child they were talking about.

The thing about dissociation was you didn’t know you were doing it — and the entire way to the Chief’s personalized elevator, Leon was out of it, his body taking control and his mind succumbing into thoughts of everything he couldn’t quite process while Claire was dumping it down on them.

The image of Sherry, a defenseless child pursued by a hulking mutant, once her father, seared into his mind, the intention of transforming her into an abomination purely with distorted instinct and regressed reason was unfathomable.

Leon didn’t know what to be horrified about, who to mourn for, the emotional labor alone was soul-sucking. Was William aware of what he was doing, that he was deteriorating, was he in there still?

(Help me, he’d apparently said. Help me. Leon didn’t know how. He had no idea what to do.)

And he, in a twisted way, saw how this was a warped parallel of Marvin and Vera. This was what would have happened if the lieutenant hadn’t done what he did. This was what he was desperate to avoid.

What Leon couldn’t imagine Vera going through was happening to Sherry right now.

Failure was not an option, not when a young life hung in the balance. Leon couldn’t live with himself if he wasn’t able to save this little child in the end. He had to at least be able to do this.

He had to.

It was Vera's revelation about the colossal sinkhole dominating the city center that jolted Leon back to the present.

Apparently, an ongoing construction project had turned the once bustling urban landscape into a labyrinth of exposed pipes and canals, resembling roads leading directly into the depths of the sewers. It seemed like a suspicious stroke of luck, considering Leon had resigned himself to descending into the unknown depths of a repugnant manhole.

Right as she’d begun to share her plan with him, something had gnawed at Leon's mind — Vera's unnaturally extensive knowledge of navigating the labyrinthine sewer systems. It was as if she had ventured through those ‘secret’ passageways before.

Unable to suppress his curiosity any longer, he mustered the question that had been festering within him. "How do you know all this?"

A faint smile played at the corners of her lips, a fleeting glimmer of amusement dancing in her eyes. "Well, I am a private investigator," she admitted, her voice laced with a hint of mystery. "But the less enigmatic answer is that I've spent my entire life here, learning the city's secrets. It's a skill to find the best hiding spots when you want to evade prying eyes."

Leon's mind raced, trying to make sense of the puzzle pieces that were gradually falling into place. Vera's explanation didn't quite add up. The email exchange he had intercepted mentioned W.B. hiding something in the sewers, possibly the elusive G-Virus, with Irons serving as his protector and ordering his men to shoot intruders on sight. It begged the question: How could Vera choose such a guarded and patrolled location as a meeting spot or hiding place?

Furthermore, if Vera was truly familiar with the city's secrets, did she know about the police presence in the sewers? It was highly unlikely that she could have avoided the knowledge, given the tight security. Had she dismissed it as an unknown motive of Irons, or did she possess information about W.B. and the G-Virus?

Was that… Was that why she could confidently say W.B. was William Birkin?

Leon's skepticism lingered, far from satisfied with her seemingly straightforward response. "And just what have you been up to?" he probed, a note of suspicion creeping into his voice.

For a fleeting moment, a ghost of her lighthearted nature resurfaced, though now tinged with weariness — unaware of what Leon was stuck on. She avoided his gaze, the elevator ride serving as a temporary shield from his inquisitive eyes. Her words carried a teasing undertone, albeit subdued and fatigued. "Nothing you can prove, officer," she said, leaving a trail of curiosity in her wake as she stepped out of the elevator before him.

Once they climbed the stairs up to the garage and the barred automatic doors were in sight, Vera took him from the elbow and whispered, “Leon, hey,” her eyes darting at everywhere but him as if she were trying to solve a problem. “Stop for a moment.”

He was immediately in alert mode, alarmed that he wasn’t perceiving what she obviously did. “What? Is everything alright?”

“Something’s different here.”

“Different how?”

“Something changed.”

Leon tilted his head, turning around to understand what she meant, Matilda readied in his hand.

Rain was still pouring relentlessly, forming a shimmering sheet of water on the concrete floor, the steady hum of flickering fluorescent lights provided the only respite from the engulfing darkness. Everything looked all the more uncanny now that Vera had said it like that.

Rows of cars stood as abandoned guardians of some sort, windows smeared with grime and neglect, some bore evidence of violent encounters, shattered glass and dented metal, reminders of the desperate struggles that had taken place within these confines, and others simply sat in solemn stillness, owners long gone, leaving only remnants of their former lives behind. Patches of darkness lurked between the vehicles, casting ominous shadows that danced and distorted as the feeble lights flickered, the spaces feeling confined, suffocating almost, the metallic scent of gasoline lingering in the air, mixing with the mustiness of forgotten corners, creating an unsettling combination that prickled his senses.

He found what was fundamentally wrong almost immediately after a brief scanning of the surroundings. It was right in their faces.

Up ahead, a once inaccessible door was now illuminated by a vivid green sign that pierced through the muted surroundings. "That door's been breached," he declared, gesturing towards it with the barrel of Matilda at the ready.

“That goes to the jail area.”

“Jail?”

“Yeah. Looks like someone’s visiting.”

As if on cue, the air filled with the sound of approaching footsteps — swift, yet faint, their rhythm too delicate to belong to a human. The clicky cadence of nails striking against concrete hinted at more than one set of feet, their presence accompanied by a low, ominous growling.

Leon's heart skipped a beat; he knew exactly what lurked in the shadows. He and Claire had faced these on their way to the orphanage, right after securing the keycard from Irons' office.

A zombified dog.

However, Vera remained oblivious to what awaited. Unaware of the imminent danger, she uttered a single word, her voice raising a couple pitches up with astonishment and a strange, almost endearing familiarity. "Zeytin?"

Oh, no.

Vera could only tell this was Zeytin from the spiky black collar she’d specifically bought for him, but at the same time, was having a hard time registering just how wrong the dog she knew from his puppy days looked.

Zeytin’s once-sleek coat now clung to his bony frame in ragged tatters, like ghostly remnants of his former glory. The patches of fur that remained were discolored and matted, caked with dirt and dried blood, blending seamlessly with exposed flesh, bones protruding through patches of torn tissue, their stained white hue serving as a stark contrast to the surrounding decay. His eyes were milky and glazed over, unseeing, yet focused at the same time, on them, growling just as he did when perceiving an enemy, but was wounded somehow — every movement it made was a twisted display of both agony and determination, he was limping with each stride, as if the very act of movement were a painful ordeal.

Rationally, Vera knew that Zeytin was long gone, just like her father. She’d hoped he was safe from all this since it was just people that came back from the dead, yet, here she was being proven false again.

But the vulnerable part of her, the child who had lost her entire family, yearned for a familiar connection she could find rest in. It was this desperate longing that made Vera see beyond the grotesque sight before her. She saw the playful puppy she had named all those years ago when he was fostered under Marvin for obedience training. She saw the best boy she used to visit at the station after school, disregarding the regulations that meant nothing to her. She saw her oldest and most loyal friend, the one she had planned to adopt after his retirement in a few months.

However, Leon's outstretched arm halted Vera's longing to approach and comfort her beloved companion. His voice carried a sense of urgency and concern as he intervened, “Vera, don’t,” — pointing his gun at Zeytin, her dog in spirit if not in body and name.

Confusion and anguish filled her as she questioned Leon's actions, her heart pounding with fear and desperation. "What are you doing?" she pleaded, getting between the gun and Zeytin, her voice trembling with disbelief and a flicker of hope that her connection with him could somehow be salvaged.

“You gotta be kidding me.” Leon's exasperated groan filled the air as the Doberman lunged forward, its paws digging into the ground as it charged towards Vera's unsuspecting back. In a split second, Leon reacted, pushing her out of harm's way just as the dog collided with his chest, knocking him off balance. The impact sent Matilda skidding away, out of reach, while Vera stumbled sideways, her heart pounding with fear and adrenaline.

Zeytin, despite his wounded state, had moved with unexpected speed, his hunger driving him forward, and his sheer strength was making it a frantic struggle for Leon to keep the dog at bay, his hand firmly grasping its throat. Desperation filled his voice as he shouted, “Get off of me!”

Leon's outstretched hand blindly searched for Matilda, his life hanging in the balance. Zeytin's jaws were snapping dangerously close to his face, and Vera witnessed the desperate hunger in the dog's eyes — the same hunger she had faced countless times when confronted by ravenous zombies.

"Shoot it!" Leon's dreadful command pierced through her confusion. "Vera, shoot it!"

At that moment, Vera snapped out of her stunned state. But doubt and fear gripped her, rendering her immobile. This was a dog. This was Zeytin. "What? No!—" Her voice trailed off, what he wanted her to do overwhelming her.

The dog thrashed in Leon's grip, almost breaking free, its hind legs propelling it forward with renewed force. He was inches away from sinking his teeth into Leon's vulnerable flesh. "Shit! Come on!" Leon's urgent cry for help spurred her into action, instincts kicking in, shattering her paralysis.

Her trembling hands quickly grabbed the shovel hanging from her backpack, instinct making her unable to grab Marvin’s Samurai Edge for this. Vera’s eyes closed after locking onto where the dog was least erratic in movement, which was his torso area, and swung it forward to knock him off of Leon. The yelp Zeytin made upon being hit and the thick cracking pierced her right in the heart, and she heard him slide across the concrete, only opening her eyes right after when the only sounds following were Leon’s relieved breathing and him scrambling to get up.

Overwhelmed by guilt, Vera couldn't help but rush to Zeytin's motionless form, sinking to her knees beside him. The sight of her own dog lying there lifeless horrified her to the core. Her hands hovered above the spot where she had struck him, the words of apology tumbling from her lips in a desperate chant. "I'm sorry, oh, Zizi, I'm so sorry, buddy boy. Oh, god..."

Amidst her sorrow, she barely registered the clatter of Matilda as Leon retrieved it and the sound of his approaching footsteps. "Hold it down, it's not dead yet," he urged.

Leon's intention to shoot the dog mirrored Vera's apprehension. She looked up at him, choked with emotion. "We can just leave. Let's leave. We don't have to do this to him."

Vera could see the conflict in Leon's eyes, a mixture of hesitance and experience, revealing that he had encountered situations like this before. It dawned on her that Zeytin was not an isolated case, and the other dogs in the kennels had likely suffered the same fate. "I gotta shoot it, Vera," Leon finally spoke with sympathy and necessity.

Vera's arms shook as she weakly positioned the shovel's handle over Zeytin's neck, her grip unsteady, and right then, he started weakly whining and panting, head attempting to turn around, milky eyes right on her, and she panicked when she saw Leon aim his gun. “No, don’t!”

“What do you mean, no! Hold it steady—”

Zeytin was slowly regaining strength, and his crying and whining were as well, pulling on Vera’s abused heartstrings, making it impossible for her to follow through with the final blow. She couldn't bear the thought of causing him more pain. "You can't do it right now, just give me a moment!" she pleaded.

Leon's climbing frustration and mirrored panic echoed through the parking lot the more she didn’t let him do anything. “You can’t be serious!”

Vera's voice cracked, her cry resonating throughout the space. "He's my dog! He's Zeytin! I can't just..." Her words snuffed off, lost in a sea of grief and anguish.

"It's not your dog anymore!”

She knew it. Deep down, she knew. Zeytin was no longer the dog she once knew, and the guilt of not being able to do the right thing tore at her soul. If she couldn't bring herself to let go of Zeytin, how could she have faced the ultimate decision with her own father if she had been there with him?

Marvin had understood her and what would have happened better than anyone. He had seen her vulnerability, her compassion, and her weakness. It didn’t matter now that she was twice more unstable in not wanting to let Zeytin go after losing him, he knew his daughter.

And that’s how, despite the presence of two armed individuals, one restraining him and the other with a gun aimed at his head, Zeytin's feral instinct overpowered them all, the previously incapacitated dog suddenly breaking free from Vera’s hold and lunging directly at her neck, a chilling snarl emanating from his ravaged throat as both of them tumbled on the ground, Vera only being able to get a hold of him through his collar, the spikes making it hard to push him away.

With no warning whatsoever from Leon, a deafening gunshot reverberated through the garage, punctuating the air with a burst of violence, time seemed to freeze as the bullet found its mark simultaneously, piercing the dog's neck just inches away from Vera's desperate grasp on his collar, the impact causing the canine's body to convulse, blood splattering across Vera's face, mixing with her tears.

Zeytin collapsed on top of her, his lifeless form weighing heavily on her chest. The world around her faded into a haze as her senses dulled, overridden by the cacophony of her own ragged breaths coming in rapid, shallow gasps, the sound amplifying in her ears, drowning out any semblance of coherent thought.

The weight of her dog's lifeless body pressed down on her before sliding off on the ground beside her, a physical manifestation of the heaviness that settled within her. In that haunting stillness, her mind became a void, thoughts dissipating like mist, leaving only an overwhelming numbness, Vera's hand, still clutching the collar that once adorned her beloved companion, trembled uncontrollably, the warmth of Zeytin's blood mingling with her tears, staining her skin. She didn’t hear Leon’s terrified shock as he yelled: “Who the hell—”

And she also didn’t hear a third party ordering: “Stay sharp!” — Zeytin was stirring again, her heart picking up pace.

Another bullet lodged itself just beside the gash the previous shot had made on his throat, right after Leon said, “I’m sorry.” Vera didn’t know if she flinched from the loud bang, or from how the poor dog’s features were still twitching after that, completely foreign to her.

A hand was on her shoulder, the firmness and the warmth shocking her back to the moment. “Hey, you okay? Are you hurt?”

Leon was crouched by her, heavily concerned, and for whatever reason, her brain chose this moment to relay the information to her that someone else was there with them as well, her eyes zoning in on the shadowed silhouette instead of the blond beside her. “I’m good,” she murmured, propping herself up from the elbows and sitting up next, sorrow replacing disgust as she inspected them, her gaze finally falling on the creature that was no longer Zeytin.

Leon's voice cut through the air, harsh and edged with anger. "What were you thinking?" Vera's head shot up, momentarily dumbstruck by the accusation in his tone, but his words were directed at the figure ahead. Leon released his grip on her shoulder, stepping forward with purpose, his gestures sharp and commanding. "There was so much movement, you could have easily shot her instead of the dog. Her head was right there."

With a deliberate and unhurried pace, the woman in the cream colored trench coat emerged from the shadows, her short bob swaying with each confident step. Unfolding her badge, she revealed her identification, sophisticated voice laced with authority. "FBI.” The sunglasses hiding her eyes added to the air of mystery surrounding her, a tilt of her head conveying a silent message, as if raising an eyebrow. She hadn’t even needed to say, ‘I shoot a gun better than any of you can’ out loud as an explanation, the single word had conveyed all of that coupled with how cool she’d said it. “A thanks would have sufficed instead of a lecture on aiming."

Leon's voice softened, mingling with gratitude upon learning her identity. "Sorry. Thank you..." But before he could finish his sentence, the woman swiftly raised her gun again, firing a third shot that pierced through the dog's head just as it sprang back to life, causing Vera to jump in surprise, she hadn’t even noticed it twitch from being too focused on her. Leon's gaze shifted to the lifeless corpse, his previous complaints melting away. "For your help."

“Surprised you two made it this far.” Her attention got diverted by the clicking of heels stopping right in front of her, looking up to see the woman frowning down at her. “Did the blood get into your mouth?”

The clipped tone directed at Vera and the feeling of being watched underneath those glasses made her feel young and inexperienced as a teenager, fingers coming up to her cheek to feel around. “What?”

“Don’t touch your face, you’ll smear it around.” She immediately dropped her hand at her command. “Did it get into your mouth?”

Her mouth was bitter for a different reason altogether, but Vera had the feeling the woman would raise her gun for a fourth shot if she wanted to see what would happen and said yes to that question. “I don’t taste anything.”

“Good. You’re not infected, then. Keep it that way.” She sounded cold and indifferent about the bullet that was just dodged compared to Leon who immediately tensed up over the words — it was as if the sunglasses shielded not only her eyes but also any trace of warmth or empathy. “Here's a piece of advice: try not to let your emotions get the best of you next time, unless you want to bring your friend down with you too.”

Guilt flooded all her senses. Leon yelling at her about almost letting him die would be easier to bear than this kind of shaming reprimand, highlighting the potential consequences of her emotional state. The weight of her actions and the danger she had inadvertently put Leon in settled heavily upon her. She lowered her gaze, feeling her own inexperience and vulnerability in the face of the woman's stern presence. “Yeah… Thanks…”

Leon helped her stand up, casting a brief glance at the FBI agent while he focused on wiping the blood off Vera’s face carefully, using his sleeve and his gloves interchangeably, momentarily cupping the side of Vera’s face to hold her still, and it shouldn’t have made her stomach swoop the way it did, her eyes didn’t know where to look as he did that and spoke at the same time. “FBI, huh? So you know about this and how it spreads?”

She let out a faint scoff, her response dripping with a touch of derision. "Doesn't take a genius to know it's transmitted through bodily fluids."

Leon's hand halted its motion, his forehead creased with a hint of concern. "Were you informed by the FBI or did you discover it on your own?" Leon hurried to wipe remaining splatters off with his thumbs as she began to saunter away without an answer, and he jogged a couple steps after her, a bit frantic. “What’s going on here?”

Unfazed by their inquiries, the agent smoothly evaded the probing. "Sorry, that information’s classified." Her tone left no room for further discussion, indicating her intention to go her own way.

Leon refused to let it go. Determination etched on his face, he pressed on. "Where are you going?"

Vera observed the exchange, her mind replaying the instances when Leon had shut her down particularly when she had knowingly shared information about William Birkin. The contrast between his previous reticence and his current fervent quest for answers did not go unnoticed.

The agent stopped walking, turning around to face them, the downward curve of her lips displeased — as she began to speak, her words carried a patronizing tone, as if addressing disobedient children who had failed to heed her well-intentioned advice. “Do yourself a favor: stop asking questions and get the hell out of here. Stick around for too long, and one of you might end up in a situation even worse than the one you just faced.”

"Hey, wait a sec! We're not finished here!" Leon called out after her, radiating with persistence as she continued to walk away, no hesitation whatsoever.

With that, she vanished behind the door leading to the jail area, leaving Vera and Leon staring in her wake. Vera's gaze lingered on Zeytin's lifeless form, her frown deepening as she surveyed the macabre scene before her. The pool of thick, congealed blood beneath him shimmered under the flickering fluorescent lights, a grim reminder of the excessive shots it had taken to finally bring him down, each bullet a cruel tribute to her lapse in judgment. She couldn't help but berate herself for not ending his suffering with a single shot from her magnum, sparing him from further agony.

As she pulled her beloved dog’s body away to a more secluded corner for privacy and covered him up with a piece of cloth hanging from the open trunk of a random car, burdened by not being able to bury him, Vera was faced with what her dad was worried about all this time.

Turn it off, don’t do this right now, she thought, basically drying her own tear ducts. Don’t think. Thinking slows you down—

The agent's near-miss gunshot had been a sobering wake-up call, a jolt that had shocked her out of her emotional turmoil and forced her to regain her composure. In a twisted way, she felt that she had deserved the scare, a necessary consequence of her actions.

— slow gets you killed.

Maybe she should have thanked the woman better.

Her departure was strangely captivating, she had seamlessly transitioned from savior to enigmatic figure, leaving them with more questions than answers. — and it clicked for Vera that she had been the one who’d made the door accessible. Within minutes she’d saved Vera from becoming dog food, given them disgruntled advice, and stalked away on to her own business without even revealing her name, not expecting anything in return, really. Though her demeanor had been distant and impassive, her actions hinted at an underlying act of benevolence, leaving Vera intrigued by the enigma before her.

Leon came up to Vera standing over Zeytin, his eyes ablaze with newfound resolve, head nodding in the door’s direction. "Come on, let's follow her."

She stood there, mouth agape, trying to comprehend the sudden shift in Leon's demeanor, going to pick up her shovel from the ground. "Why?" she blurted out, her confusion evident.

"Because she holds the answers," Leon replied, shoulders squared as if ready for battle, brimming with conviction. "She could tell us everything we need to know. Don't you want to find out?"

That agent could only tell Vera what she already knew, but it was a sentiment Leon didn’t share, her lack of interest could look suspicious to him, he’d already been weirded out by her W.B. outburst.

She began to move after one last goodbye glance to Zeytin, heart heavy, her steps aligning with Leon's, curious about what had gotten him to make a drastic change of heart like this. "I thought you didn't want to get involved in detective work," she reminded him.

Leon glanced back at her, a bit embarrassed about his words boomeranging back to him, but determined all the same. "I changed my mind. How wild is it that the answers to all our questions showed up right in front of us? We can't afford to pass up this opportunity."

Vera wasn’t above pettiness. “What are we supposed to do with the information if we get it?”

He looked troubled as they finally entered the jail the woman had disappeared into, he held Matilda ready, and she had Marvin’s Samurai Edge out. “Vera…”

“Your words, not mine.”

They walked past the quiet cells of the jail beneath the precinct that held only grumbling undead, only flashlights illuminating the way forward. “I know what I said, but… She’s FBI, it’s far more credible than aligning dots and initials on documents, you know?”

Vera's laughter carried a tinge of offense, an unexpected reaction amidst the weight of her recent loss. "Wow. Damn."

She really shouldn’t have brought up W.B. being William Birkin like some match the words kindergarten exercise, it was only now occurring to Vera how unprofessional it had looked to Leon. She had been all over the place.

“I don’t mean it like that.”

It was a surprise to her that she was, in fact, annoyed by this — her mood fluctuating despite her wanting to remain level-headed, the toll of this night’s devastation clearly catching up with her and exploding out as a random lashing out. “No, I get it. Mr. ‘I want concrete proof and there’s nothing more concrete than the FBI instead of a random private investigator I’ve known for half a day’—”

Their conversation was abruptly interrupted as a zombie lunged at them from one of the cells, its bony fingers reaching out through the bars. Vera jolted back, her heart pounding in her chest, while Leon instinctively moved closer, a protective instinct taking over. He’d begun to do this a lot lately, his hand finding its way to her shoulder or arm, offering comfort in the absence of words that couldn’t quite cross the distance. Despite his own uncertainties, he emanated with a presence that anyone would think they were safe with him that eased her fears. "You're fine," he reassured her, the words washing over her like a soothing balm. He had the qualities of a true guardian, really would have been a wonderful cop if nothing had gone wrong, one of the good ones. "Stay close to me."

How gentle and kind he was to her made Vera immediately regret yapping at him like that. Leon had been so patient with her, been with her through Marvin’s departure — and all she could do was be unjustifiably annoyed at him.

Their previous discussion, a pointless banter, dissipated with that. Vera couldn’t bring herself to point out the detour and how Claire was out there looking for Sherry all by herself, just assuming Leon intended to expedite their questioning and swiftly move forward. He needed this, and Vera had no right to stop him especially when she was hiding the things she did.

Her understanding of the truth behind the outbreak had made her complacent, causing her to overlook the desperation that drove Leon to seek answers. Lost in the chaos and her own struggles, she failed to realize the extent to which not knowing weighed on him. With the weight of holding everyone together on his shoulders, she failed to grasp the extent to which the uncertainty was driving him to the brink of breakage. His desire to find the FBI agent and uncover the truth was a logical response to his mounting frustration and the need for some sense of control in that sense.

She was a colossal asshole, both for not revealing to Claire and Leon the information they were basically entitled to for going through hell, and for getting annoyed that he’d inadvertently insulted her for her obvious sloppy job at providing connections he was right in questioning. She had no room to complain about anything or feel offended.

Choosing to shutting the fuck up next time, she ignored the haunting cacophony of growls and rattling bars filling the air, the eerie symphony of those unfortunate souls who had met their demise only to return as twisted abominations, pressing on, following Leon closely behind along the row of jail cells.

The last cell in the row held an unexpected surprise.

It was Ben Bertolucci, a familiar face she had last seen less than a week ago during their intel exchange — Irons had said he knew about Bertolucci, said he had snitched.

So he’d thrown her under the bus to derail Irons because he was put behind bars, huh?

In retrospect, Vera should be angry. She really should be furious with him, her body was still sore, and yes, there was the fuzziness of all the painkillers and the comfort of the healing herbs, but Irons had almost killed her because of Ben talking. Two of her wisdom teeth were gone for fuck’s sake, her mouth still tasted of copper.

But exhaustion consumed her. Irons was dead, his threat extinguished. Her father was gone, leaving an irreplaceable void in her heart. She’d just witnessed her dog being put down. In the grand scheme of things, none of it mattered anymore. The weight of her losses and the weariness of her journey pressed upon her, erasing any lingering resentment. All that remained was a profound sense of fatigue and the need to get away from everything and sleep for decades until she was whole and okay again.

He sat there, composed and untouched by the horrors that plagued the rest of the jail, a living, breathing human in this sea of undead abominations, donning an overcoat and large glasses, his hair stylishly swept back in a tiny low ponytail as he casually smoked a cigarette.

As Vera and Leon approached, their footsteps echoing through the cold, concrete corridor, Bertolucci snapped to attention, his face filled with excitement. "Hello?" His voice reverberated off the walls, carrying a glimmer of hope in this desolate place, as if he had stumbled upon a long-lost treasure in this forsaken place.

Leon, taken by surprise, couldn't contain his astonishment. “Hey!” He hurried forward, leaving Vera momentarily out of sight, approaching Bertolucci with a brew of awe, relief, and eagerness to establish communication.

“I don’t believe it," Bertolucci breathed, his voice filled with elation, his hand reaching out to grasp the cold metal bars that separated them. "A real human. Hello, human!"

His humor managed to get a small smile out of Leon. “You been here long?” He leaned closer to the cell door, inspecting it as if searching for a hidden mechanism that could grant Ben his freedom.

“Long enough!” the man exclaimed, laughing. “Are we the last ones alive?”

With a shake of his head, Leon attempted to assuage Ben's fears, slipping into the familiar role of a protector. "No, no, there are a few of us," he reassured, his words carrying a hint of hope, even though the reality was far bleaker than he let on.

And then, as Bertolucci's gaze shifted, his eyes locked onto Vera. Time seemed to freeze for a moment as their gazes met. Taking a step backward, his excitement waned, he released his grip on the bars, a single word escaping his lips. "Shit."

With a mischievous glint in her eyes, Vera slid her hand into the pocket of Leon's jacket, her fingers curling around the fabric, while her other hand tightly gripped the Samurai Edge. A small smirk danced on her lips, a subtle challenge to his earlier reaction. If she wasn't angry before, she definitely was now, fueled by the implication that he might not have wanted her alive. "Thought you'd be happier to see me. Disappointed Irons hasn't gotten me yet?"

Ben, sensing the tension, raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Listen, I'm sorry. I had to look out for myself, alright? He and the suits make people disappear once they have ‘em, I couldn’t take the chance."

“So you rather he made me disappear instead?”

The timbre of Leon's voice instantaneously changed, taking on a deeper and accidentally intimidating tone, just on the edge of jagged irritation. It was a side of him Vera had never witnessed before. "What do you mean by that?" he demanded, his incredulity on the rise.

Vera ignored Leon for the moment, stepping closer to the cell, holstering the Samurai Edge for the moment and just stared. He had mistakenly believed he was safe within the confines of the cell, unaware that Vera's reach extended far beyond what he had anticipated. Without warning, her arm shot forward, seizing him by his tie and yanking him with such force that his head collided with the unforgiving iron bars. The impact shattered his glasses, the broken fragments clattering onto the ground as he cried out in pain, staggering backward.

Leon was late on yanking her away because of the shock, but he did, putting distance between the recovering Ben holding his bleeding nose and her, body acting as a shield as she paced around like a furious lioness. She pointed at him as Leon tried to swat away her hands. “That was for almost getting me killed!”

“Okay, okay, stop. Stop, Vera. I need you to calm down and take a few deep breaths. I understand that you're upset, but violence is never the answer—”

“We destroy skulls to put undeads down for good, what do you mean? Violence is the answer! We’re packed like the Terminator out here! Stop talking cop to me—!”

“Alright, alright, listen, we can’t harm each other and try to look out for one another at the same time, those are mutually exclusive. It's important to maintain control of our emotions, especially in heated situations in the midst of survival scenarios, it can leave us vulnerable to danger right now. Can you take a deep breath and try to calm yourself down? Step away for a moment.”

She sucked her teeth, making a tutting sound and backed off, raising her arms to let Leon know it was okay.

“Yeah, I deserved that,” Ben chuckled, the area underneath his nose was tinted with a red hue, he was raising his eyeglasses towards the light above and inspecting the damage. “You owe me money for this.”

“I owe you a fucking beating,” A wild defiance flickered across Vera's face, her eyebrows raised so high it caused discomfort. “Negotiate and the price starts going up, how does that sound?”

“How about you stop and tell me about the connection here,” Leon interrupted, half-trying to de-escalate the situation and half-really wanting to know.

A couple heartbeats of silence passed as she collected herself and cooled down, and Ben pocketed his glasses and flicked away his cigarette, crushing it under his foot, sharing a knowing glance with Vera. "Is he... you know?"

Vera scoffed, dismissing any need for subtlety. "He's cool," she assured, her tone laced with a hint of annoyance. "You don't have to tiptoe around it. Irons is dead."

A flicker of relief crossed Ben's face, his expression practically beaming. "Oh, thank God. There is justice in this world after all."

He didn’t ask how. He didn’t ask by who or what. Ben just took what he was given, happy that the bastard was gone at last.

Uncomfortable, Leon visibly distanced himself from the man in the cell, his unease stemming from the memories of Irons' demise. He had always been reluctant to celebrate anyone's death the way Ben was, regardless of how heinous they might have been, even when he’d told Vera that the man had gotten what he’d deserved. Taking a step back, he viewed Ben with suspicion and a touch of distaste. "What's this about?"

Vera took the lead, shedding light on their connection. “Ben here is a reporter. He was working on exposing Irons and I was lending him an invisible hand, so to speak. That’s why he was taken in, I’m guessing.”

There was recognition in Leon’s face, blue eyes flickering to the side as if remembering something. “He’s the rat?”

The reporter gave him the worst stink eye there ever was. “Excuse you, pig.”

“This pig is about to get you out of here, be glad he doesn’t hold grudges,” Leon responded, brushing off the insult without a trace of offense, glancing around. Vera realized that even though he’d said that, despite his assertive words, he didn't have a clear plan for freeing Ben from the cell, just looking to make him feel he was in good hands.

Vera's gaze shifted past the blond, landing on the power panel situated right beside the cell. She pointed it out, directing Leon's attention to it, and immediately spotted the issue. “Bingo,” she said, head mapping the cable paths. “That’s how we get him out.”

Leon's eyes trailed to the table positioned just beneath the panel, where a piece of paper lay. He picked it up and looked through its contents, his expression growing sour. “It says we need—”

“Electrical parts, yada yada yada, they just mean relays,” she waved him off, a plan starting to form in her head. “Don’t need that. We are not going back to the station, I swear to god.”

“Then, what?”

“We have like a sea of cars around here, I’ll just repurpose parts we need. I’m good at fixing things, so you get to watch me work.”

Leon briefly was fascinated at that, brows slowly rising and looking her up and down.

“Thank you, Inspector Gadget.”

“Not another word, I still am tempted to leave you here, Ben.”

Ben pretended to zip his lips up and throw away the key.

The FBI agent was forgotten for the moment.

Entering the dimly lit garage with Leon on the front as usual after letting him handle the radio call with Claire because it’d been his decision to take a detour, Vera navigated through the labyrinth of abandoned vehicles with him sticking close by, each one a potential source of goodies, her eyes scanning the surroundings, seeking out the car that might offer the salvaged parts necessary. It felt akin to trying to pick out the sweetest, best tasting watermelon. And after a few moments of contemplating, her gaze fell upon an old sedan tucked away in a corner, it seemed relatively intact compared to the others, which was always a good thing.

“That one,” she said, and Leon nodded, accompanying her.

She approached the vehicle, cautiously inspecting it, popping open the hood, revealing an engine compartment brimming with a network of wires and components.

Leon called out behind her, also leaning in a bit. “What do you need me to do?”

“Just stand guard. I’ll be finished in about five minutes.”

“That fast, huh?”

“Blink and you’ll miss it,” Vera said as she grasped the front of the car with both hands and fully got immersed, having no doubts about leaving the protection duty to Leon and giving all her attention to the car. Her experienced eyes navigated through the tangle, seeking out the wiring harness — a complex mesh of colorful cables that could potentially provide the necessary wires and connectors for the power panel.

Thankful that she’d packed her backpack with a trusty set of tools, Vera carefully removed the screws and clips that secured the wiring harness, and with delicate precision, she disconnected it from its points of attachment. Upon the successful extraction, she gently placed it on the ground and began examining it wire by wire. She searched for cables of the appropriate gauge and color that matched the damaged or missing wires within the power panel. As she identified suitable candidates, she carefully cut and separated them from the harness, ensuring she left enough length for future connections. The salvaged wires were then collected and secured with zip ties, creating a makeshift bundle.

Next, her attention was turned to the car's interior. She rummaged through the dashboard, searching for switches and buttons that resembled the ones she needed to replace. After some time, the spotting of a collection of well-preserved ones had her humming. With nimble fingers, she extracted the salvaged switches from their mounting points, taking care not to damage them. She inspected each switch, comparing them to the faulty ones she’d detected on the power panel, and carefully disconnected the corresponding wires.

Leon was watching, she could feel his eyes on her. “You sure you need to be watching me instead of the precinct?” She moved swiftly but deliberately, skillfully connecting the salvaged switches to the newly acquired wires from the car's harness.

The clicking around of his weapons were audible as he shifted around. “Well, whatever you’re doing is far more interesting.”

Vera would have said something clever in return, but she basically forgot to, making a noise instead, her mind telling her that she didn’t exactly have wire connectors lying around but did have tape for the next step, and she ensured each connection was secure, minimizing the risk of future failures.

Feeling a surge of excitement, she proceeded to the car's fuse box, a small compartment housing a myriad of fuses and relays. She analyzed each component, seeking replacements for that one little missing electrical part within the power panel and a fuse, and with a keen eye, she identified compatible ones, removing them, and finally, gathering all her salvaged components —a collection of wires, switches, and the fuse and relay— and carried them back to the power panel.

With steady hands, she began the meticulous process of connecting the wires, replacing the faulty switches, and integrating the other ones.

“Judging from your reaction, I don’t think she came this way yet, but still, have you seen a woman around here?” Vera asked as she worked on the wires, some lights coming on and the other ones going off. This was like a puzzle.

“No. Why? Is she a friend of yours?”

Vera’s hands halted working when Leon answered instead, observing his gloomy contemplation over her shoulder. “An FBI agent. We were hoping she could tell us what’s going on here.”

Vera shook her head ever so slightly when Ben met her gaze again, silently questioning.

“Mighty thin ice you’re treading on there,” he said, speaking to Leon but the words obviously meant for her. “You get one answer, three more questions pop up in its place.”

“Do you know something?”

He just threw Leon a tape recorder, and handed him his journal, obviously expecting to get them back right after a brief inspection. “It’s all I have, officer.”

Fear squeezed Vera’s heart, and she finished tinkering with the final electrical piece, aggressively mouthing, ‘What are you doing?’ at Ben while Leon couldn’t see, and the fucker just smugly shrugged. He was really doing this. Just sharing everything because it had all gone to hell anyway, but she didn’t want Leon or Claire getting involved in this any more than they did! They didn’t deserve to be burdened with the knowledge! Furthermore, Ben had no right distributing the intel she’d gathered all by herself, she hadn’t given him all her life’s worth of research and investigation to him so he could just toss it to anyone who asked!

One by one, the power panel came back to life, emitting a soft hum as electricity surged through its revived circuits. Lights flickered on, casting a cold white glow throughout the jail, while the low hum of machinery resumed its familiar chorus, and she heard Ben’s cell unlock.

But it wasn’t just his cell, as the other echoing buzzings told them, a shrill alarm going off, temporarily making all of them deaf — basically yelling: “They’re here, get’em!”

Leon’s face went pale, he pocketed the tape recorder and the journal hurriedly, readying Matilda. “Shit.”

The frozen panic of the moment shattered as the wall behind Ben exploded, fragments of debris showering the area. Crumbling masonry and swirling dust gave way to the ominous figure that emerged — a grotesque abomination they thought they left behind torn in half back at the lower levels of the orphanage, now draped in a tattered black trench coat. It was him. It was Mr. X.

Its immense, inhuman hand closed around Ben's face, effortlessly lifting him off the ground, rendering him weightless in its grasp. Vera felt like she was going to suffocate, adrenaline surging through his veins as Leon swiftly drew his firearm, his eyes scanning for a clear shot, but the chaotic scene unfolding before him denied him the opportunity. as Ben's agonized screams filled the air, echoing through the desolate corridor as he was flung around like a lifeless puppet, a pitiable plaything in the monstrous grip.

And then, the crushing force of the giant’s hand tightened, exerting an unimaginable pressure. Blood spurted, mingling with the grotesque sight of a single eye protruding between the gaps in its fingers, a macabre fusion of flesh and bone. Leon and Vera recoiled in horror, instinctively shielding themselves from the gruesome spectacle.

The lifeless body of Ben was unceremoniously discarded to the ground, a life extinguished in the blink of an eye. Vera couldn’t even react properly, mind blanked out once more.

And now fully aware of their presence, the revenant terror fixed its gaze upon Leon and Vera, its empty eyes void of any semblance of humanity. The intent to exterminate emanated from its menacing stance, casting a shadow of impending doom upon the trapped duo, behind them, the relentless horde of creatures blocked the only viable path of escape, closing in like a suffocating nightmare.

In a split second, Leon's training kicked in, overcoming horror faster than Vera did as he swiftly retrieved a flashbang from his belt. With a flick of his wrist, the blinding projectile sailed through the air, detonating in a burst of searing light and deafening sound. The brilliant flash momentarily disoriented the towering Mr. X, throwing off its balance and granting them a precious window of opportunity.

"Run!" Leon's urgent command pierced through the chaos as he seized Vera's hand, their fingers interlocking tightly. Blinded by the intense light, Vera stumbled forward, her senses overwhelmed as she relied on Leon's guidance, their bodies moving in synchronized desperation.

They navigated through the nightmarish maze of undead monstrosities, Leon deftly incapacitating a few with well-placed shots, momentarily stunning them with another flashbang and clearing a path. But there was no time for a meticulous elimination of each gruesome walking corpse. Their priority was survival, an all-consuming drive that pushed them forward.

The stench of decay assaulted Vera's nostrils, the putrid odor of rot permeating the air, making her eyes water and stomach churn. Hands reached out from the horde, their decaying fingers brushing against her skin, sending a shiver of revulsion down her spine. But she pressed on, anchored by Leon's unwavering presence to guide her through the suffocating mass of undead.

Heavy footsteps started thundering alarmingly fast behind them, and Vera felt like she could have a heart attack out of fear right then and there from the sheer levels of anxiety-inducing pace of the rapid booming coming right for her life.

Finally, they managed to burst through the threshold of the jail, bodies propelled into the very short-lived safety of the garage, adrenaline coursing through their veins as Mr. X was closing in.

“Shotgun,” Vera coughed with a crunchy, repulsive, garbage disposal-like sound, lungs burning with the exertion of the running and all the quick breathing, herself switching to the Lightning Hawk. “Bring out your shotgun, we need to make this fucker fall so we have time to get away!”

They began to back away from the door, creating a significant distance between themselves and the approaching menace, hearts pounding in their chests as they prepared themselves, hoping to bring down the relentless Mr. X.

With a thunderous crash, Mr. X tore the door off its hinges, his towering form crouching to fit through the doorway. Seizing the opportunity, Vera and Leon unleashed a barrage of gunfire, their weapons spitting out rounds in rapid succession — but he didn’t seem affected at all, that sculpted mask of a face remaining the same as he quickly marched forward —

But just as despair threatened to overwhelm her, a pivotal moment unfolded, Mr. X stumbled, falling to one knee, and in a moment that seemed both timely and miraculous, the revving of an engine cut through the chaos. A SWAT van came out of nowhere, hurtling toward Mr. X with unstoppable force, and Vera managed to pull Leon away to a safer distance just in time.

The impact was cataclysmic, the van slamming into the colossal abomination, unleashing a devastating blow. The wall crumbled beneath the tremendous impact, a cascade of brick and concrete tumbling to the ground. Through the haze of dust and debris emerged the enigmatic FBI agent, her sunglasses concealed her eyes, but her gaze was sharp and penetrating just as her body language and presence, it bore into Vera.

The FBI agent's frustration crackled in her voice as she snapped at them, the distinct sound of her heels clicking on the ground with an air of annoyance. "I told you to get out of here," she admonished. "This is getting old... saving your asses — that's twice."

Vera’s reflex was to make light of the situation — as if she didn’t just witness an acquaintance of hers she’d been working with quite a while now getting his brains squeezed like a wet sponge, as if it didn’t affect her at all, not in the slightest, but the nervous hollowness in her very being was there. “One for me, and now one for him, so can we call it even, Superagent?”

The woman vehemently responded, fed up with Vera, her voice raised. "This isn't a game!"

The moaning of crumpling metal rose from the van, an exaggerated mirror of a tin soda can being crushed as giant fingers emerged from the debris, clawing their way to freedom.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Leon seethed.

“Nothing dies down here,” the FBI agent complained, almost in a childish manner, like it was some video game she was playing that was impossible to beat, making her frustrated. Without hesitation, she retrieved a remote from her pocket and pressed a button. The ensuing explosion engulfed the remains of the SWAT van, reducing it to a chaotic mess of twisted metal and billowing smoke, the deafening blast echoing through the garage, momentarily silencing all other sounds, the wreckage smoldering afterwards.

Such an action hero move.

Leon was as amazed as Vera was, genuine admiration in both their faces, starstruck by how the agent made it look so effortless. “Maybe a warning next time?”

The woman’s visible expression remained stoic, unaffected by their amazement. With a turn of her head, she scanned the surroundings, her attention focused on the aftermath of the encounter. "There isn't a next time," she replied with a touch of finality. "I have more pressing matters to attend to than getting you two out of trouble."

“Like Ben Bertolucci? You came here to meet with him, didn’t you?” He motioned towards the remains of the demolished wall and the wreckage, taking Vera by surprise with the on-point observation that made total sense. “He’s gone. This guy took him out.”

The vivid scene replayed in Vera’s mind the second he mentioned it, and she had to shut her eyes and regain her composure to not sway where she stood.

The agent remained silent, seemingly expressionless, but buried in an exasperated disappointment.

So he was right. He’d figured it out.

“We just might have what you need from him,” Leon took out the tape recorder, clearly intent on obtaining the information he desired from the very beginning. “But only if you’ll tell us the truth.”

#leon kennedy x oc #leon s kennedy x oc #leon s. kennedy x oc #resident evil oc #oc: vera kaplan #story: gravedigger #era: no time to die #if you know about mechanics please overlook the car part i tried 💀

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