#leon s kennedy x oc

[mandalhoerian]

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 She had withdrawn into herself, creating a boundary as tangible as the steel surrounding them.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.

[myersobsession]

leon s kennedy ada wong n carlos oliveira are one of my new hyperfixes guys!!! i'm still drawing myari tho ❤️

[homicidal-slvt]

"Count On 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: Fluff, Angst, Argument

-

"An undercover mission? Seriously?"

"Please, Kitty."

You sighed unable to argue with Rebecca, she was smart so you decided to follow her instructions. All would be fine.

••

Now here you were trying on dresses and trying to practice walking in heels, Leon's eyes following you he couldn't help but snort with a laugh watching you weeble as if you were just a lil fawn.

"You're really bad at that."

"Helpful."

"Don't fall."

"I won't-"

You shot him a pointed glare but lost your balance teetering over backwards, instinctively Leon held out his hand and it made contact with your lower back, the touch light and gentle as he simply tried to assist in steadying you.

Eyes met in that moment and his hand lingered, the warmth of his palm could be felt through the soft texture of the dress you wore.

Quickly he retracted his hand and looked away.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

-

You dumped the contents of several boxes onto the floor, shuffling through them frantically.

It was Canine's things- and your heart plummeted as you studied the items. You were hoping to find more information on who he had been involved with.

Instead you found a bunch of little trinkets- gifts you had given him back when you were the closest of friends. Every single thing you gave him he had kept all this time- no matter what.

So sentimental.... You fought back the tears threatening to surface, Leon stepped into the room and rested a hand on your shoulder.

At least he's here with you. Someone you can count on.

-

You kicked off the high heels and roughly tossed your purse onto the table, Leon following close behind you.

"Kitty-"

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

You sucked in a deep breath and didn't bother turning around to look at him.

"I have to help her. Those people-"

"Seriously- after all she's done? She's the reason why Canine is..."

You trailed off and Leon moved closer, trying to reason with you but there was just too much hurt.

"We don't have the full story."

"And you think she'll fucking give it to you?"

You heard him let out a deep breath, there was no answer to that. A cold void silence hung heavy in the air. He knew just as well as you did- he always knew he'd never get a straight answer.

No matter what Ada does- he always is going to help her if she's in trouble.

If she needs him... He's there.

Even after all this mess.

"Just go."

"Kitty-"

You finally turned to face him, your tone of voice cold and gaze sending daggers straight into his heart. This side of you has never been directed towards him- not even once before now.

"Leave."

It hurt like a blade twisting in his chest, turning and leaving your house the door slipping shut behind him. An empty feeling occupying your chest and home the moment he's out of sight.

Count on no one but yourself.

-

{Uh oh their fighting- will Leon try and fix things?}

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{@sofasoap }

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{More Content}

[youreobsessedwithtoomanyfandoms]

not x reader, but oc related (i just haven't finished cleaning up my oc tumblr so im posting here and will repost there but)

currently thinking about how i call re6 leon the sluttist and would be the most fun to have sex with and hold his slutty waist but yet my oc thats with him, tiffany, lowkey can't stand him and thinks about divorcing him around that time-the events of vendetta (but doesn't because she's lowk scared that if she did, then he might actually drink himself to death)

[acrossthecherriverse]

Self-care sesh ✧*。

Cherri: RE!Cherri

Tags: Pure domestic fluff, short and sweet, Cherri being a menace (what's new), no warnings!

Word count: 464

"Will you stay still for a sec!?"

"Will you make it tickle less?"

Cherri huffed and continued smearing the mint-colored paste on Leon's cheeks and around his face, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed. It's one of the few days off they get from the tiring workload of the Strategic Command, and Cherri decided the best way to spend it for now would be some self care. That, and she bought some new products a while ago, and Leon is the best guinea pig.

"Are you done yet?"

"Do you not like having my hands on your face? I'm wounded, truly," she smirked and wiped the remaining product off her hands with one of the tissues lying around and leaned back to admire her work.

"You know the only thing you're missing? Cucumber slices on your eyes, and then you'll look like a total auntie."

"And curlers in my hair?"

"And curlers in your hair! See, you know your auntie fashion."

Leon sighed and turned back to look at the mirror behind him. Hello Kitty clips in his hair, the green detox face mask smeared all around his face and a bright grin of a dark-haired girl peeking out from behind him.

"D'you like it?"

"I… don't exactly see how having smooth skin is going to help me take down B.O.W.'s." He reached a hand up to his face to lightly touch the pale green product on his cheeks.

"It's not for the B.O.W.'s, idiot. It's for me. You have mochi cheeks."

"I have what?" Leon turned around to face her again with a confused expression.

"...Mochi cheeks? Y'know, those soft, squishy Japanese rice cakes?"

"And what exactly does that have to do with any of this?"

"Because…" Cherri's eyes wandered around the room, seemingly wanting to look at anything but directly at him, "...because I like touching them? Like a stress ball? You know how you sometimes grab my tits or my ass just because? Like that, I like it when they're soft."

"You grab my tits too, though, do you need my cheeks as well?"

"Well, I'm not gonna put a face mask on your tits…" Her eyes discreetly wandered down to his chest but she swiftly corrected herself with a clear of her throat, "Look, it's not gonna kill you to take care of your skin once in a while."

"Okay, okay then. How long do I have to keep this on?"

Cherri fumbled to find the misplaced face mask packaging somewhere on the bed before reading from the back, "...Uh, 20 minutes. Like, 17 by now then."

"...Right."

"..."

"..."

"Can I paint your nails, too?"

"I don't think the higher-ups would like that."

"Then can I take a Polaroid pic?"

"Don't you dare."

A/N: First one down fuck ton more to go 🫡 I have an RE4R campaign fic planned, full 16 chapters and everything, but it will be posted in due time dw

[larvamars]

You look like you've seen a ghost

[jessica-h-cytheria]

" My Deilmma..."

Time to share my art too !!!

I got covid again that's why I have time for art (( LOL))

I really try to write something about my oc x Leon but bruh , it looks sucks and I also think of my oc background story , it looks good , if you want to listen to my oc background story, let me know , I'll try my best to type it or draw it out

(( someone notice me please))

Have a nice day everyone 💕

[mandalhoerian]

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.

[bananzer]

I love Leon he's like that one male Barbie you had as a kid that you shipped with whoever whenever. Cleon? Aeon? Chreon? Ashleon? Serennedy? My own oc? Someone else's oc? They all slap. And it's because Leon has insane chemistry with everyone he meets because of the autism.

[clayderogatory]

hello everyone im a curious little fella today, and today i want to see you all yap about your resident evil ocs. give me the LORE!!! give me the DESCRIPTIONS!!!! TELL ME EVERYTHING!!!!! i love hearing abt peoples ocs and i am an oc x canon enthusiast. go nuts, i will listen to every detail :3

[larvamars]

which bunny would you choose? 🐰

[strawberryshortcake0413]

Last hope (part 1)

Characters:yandere Leon S Kennedy (older version) x reader

Disclaimer: This fanfic contains dark-themed topics, such as kidnapping, depression, suicidal thoughts, non-consent, unwanted pregnancy,etc

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. MDNI

Warning: yandere Leon Kennedy, kidnapping, non-consent, depressed reader, manipulation, Stockholm syndrome, unwanted pregnancy, emotional & mental abuse, out of character leon etc

@dollywons credits for the divider, thank you :))

The pictures used does not belong to me!!!

Chapters: pt2 pt3 pt4

“Fuck off” you muttered to your Alex. Today was already as hard as it was. You didn't need him giving you unnecessary advice on how to grief a patient.

Who does he think he is?? You thought to yourself. Listening to a bratty egotistical younger resident telling you what to do when your patient dies during surgery? No. At least you will not tolerate his behavior.

Growing up with a careless single mother in poverty may have made you like this. Always numb and cold. That's just what people think of you.

You weren't always this unattending. In the first year of medical school, you were the nicest and the most helpful student there is. Things changed as your career proceeded within the years. You saw how ugly people can be. They took you as weak and something they can use to get what they want.

Not again. Never again

The loud alarm went off in the hospital wing. You quickly got up as your pager rang. In-room 303, there was a little girl. 10 years old, had a diagnosis of cardiomyopathy. When you were working the night shift and doing regular rounding checkups, she talked about her birthday plan to you.

“I want Princess Jasmine to attend my birthday party. Her hair is so long and shiny and pretty and, and she's pretty. She's also so smart. Mommy promised me she would come” the girl suddenly stopped. After a few seconds she opened her mouth again.

“She said she… she will come if I live… will I live? Doctor?”

You thought about the past as the attending announced her time of death. 23:44. 12th of May, 2015.

Two patients. Two patients. In one day.

Hiding from people, you hugged your knees in the corner of an empty hallway as you sobbed. God. People thought you were heartless. What other choice do you have when you have no choice but to leave your toxic mother who had no other motivation in life other than drinking, to build a better future for yourself. What other choice do you have when you were the best student in the school but had no money for college? Would you rather stay with your mom to take care of her all your life, doing everything that drives you insane or follow your dreams?

Unfortunately for you, your dream was not something you imagined. Burden, depression, exhaustion were the main 3 words you could use for this job.

Not to mention the creepy, flirty attendings. Always being underestimated by the men in the field.

After the long hard 24 hours and arguing with your mentor about your recent research about brain cancer, you took a box with your belongings.

Bitch

The old fat man fired you for standing up for yourself. Why would you allow anyone to take ideas from your paper? Especially if they were your teacher.

Fine. I'll find a better job in a better hospital.

After putting on your comfortable black coat and causing your boss to fire you for no actual good reason, you walked to your car with the box in your hand.

“Fuck” you yelled as you struggled to open the car door with the damn box in hand. In the reflection of the car window at midnight you saw a face behind you. Just as you were going to turn away, something was put around your nose and mouth and everything went black.

Leon grinned to himself as he carefully put the young woman in his jeep. Tonight was the new moon. There was almost no light in the parking lot and he was sure the cameras couldn't catch the glimpse of his face.

He observed her for a few weeks. First he got a little headache and decided to go to the hospital, only to find a little angel for himself.

Leon noticed she was quite unique compared to the women he met before. Even though he wouldn't say she's rude, she wasn't exactly nice either. He was sure he could fix her up nicely to become a sweet little wife for him.

His baby just needed some guidance in life. What would he be if he let go of this girl to become a rude old bitch. Instead she could help the community by giving Leon a family he wanted for the last few months too much.

Staring at his sweet pumpkin through the rear view window, he was planning what to do next. For the last week he had already planned what to do. But his bunny was in a worse condition than he thought. Overworked herself, dressed in sad gloomy clothes. He would strip her out of these and put her in comfortable , cotton pajamas.

And feed her. He knows what she eats in a day. Sad cold dark coffee with a tuna sandwich for breakfast. No lunch. Leftover pizza or burger for dinner. Leon will make sure she eats plenty of vegetables and homemade food that will nurture her.

During the night he changed her clothes to what he had bought for her.

“Just perfect” he muttered as the t-shirt he got fit her perfectly. Hugging her waist, making her breast more prominent. He held himself back from touching her cunt as he pulled down her pants, along with her underwear.

He sniffed her and inhaled deeply, taking in the scent. “I’ll show you how much I love you when you wake up honey. Not yet… Leon… gotta wait” he muttered to himself.

He put a little underwear on her and undressed himself. Crawling next to the love of his life, Leon put an alarm at 4am on his phone.

“The drug should be out by then,” Leon thought as he cuddled her.

After a few hours Leon was woken by clicking on the doorknob. His angel had woken up and was trying to open the door. Leon sneakily grabbed his phone and looked at the time. 3am.

The blonde signed and got up, causing his angel to scream and throw a vase on the shelf nearby at him.

“Get away from me, you freak!” you yelled, almost on the verge of crying making Leon's heart beat faster. He hated seeing you in pain.

“It's okay. It's okay, baby. Everything will be alright.” Leon cooed, getting up from the bed to her.

“Step away!” You screamed, throwing the left souvenirs on the shelf to him.

Leon walked in a few short big steps, in hurry and stopping you before you hurt yourself.

“It's okay my baby. Daddys here to take care of you. It's okay. Calm down. Everything will be okay.. no more work, no more ignoring yourself. It's okay..” Leon muttered trying to calm you down. He gripped your arms tightly above your head while kissing your head.

You squirm while sobbing, trying to kick him.

“What did I do to you?? Let me go.” You demanded squirming more, causing Leon to tighten his grip. Leon kept muttering to you his reassuring words while kissing your face all over when you managed to kick him in the crotch.

He let go of you and inhaled deeply, trying not to lash out on his dove on their 1st day as a couple.

“Y/n…. Honey… calm down…” he breathed out.

After a while of trying, Leon gave up. The constant cursing and screaming were giving him an awful headache, same as the ones he gets after missions.

“SHUT UP BITCH” he yelled at you, shaking your arms. Your eyes widened as you shut down, the room was quite apart from your sniffling and leons hard breathing.

“Please… just… let me go…” you sniffed out. You haven't felt this humiliated and weak since you were a little girl. Since your mother used to beat you after not cooking for her. Since you went against her words. Your childhood wasn't something you liked talking about, nor getting pity from strangers. You wanted nothing to do with the alcoholic bitch. When you were near her, you were a prisoner.

Ironic, now I'm a real prisoner

Leon breathed out and stared intensely. Suddenly he grabbed your waist, pulling you towards him before jumping on the bed. You protested, tried to bite his arm, kick him, scream, call for help, every way. Leon almost tore the piece of garments he put on her before.

“What are you doing?? Stop. No. Stop-” you protested, only for him to shut you up with a kiss.

After the first night, Leon felt guilty. Not because he made love to his lover when she was throwing a tantrum. But because of the way he lashed out on her. For the last few days she was avoiding him, sitting in corners, not eating or making any noise. After a while being a gentleman as he is, Leon decided to surprise his bunny.

“Honey. I'm home” Leon smiled, locking the doors securely. He hid a small box behind his back.

You crawled away from him, to the edge of the bed. Leon reached out his hand to pull your hair back.

“My beautiful baby. Did you miss me?” He grinned stupidly. You wanted to cry. But you didn't want to show him your weakness, especially after that night. Leon frowned as you pulled your head back.

“Look what daddy got you sweet girl. I know you overworked yourself so daddy got you vitamins.” He grinned as he showed the box.

You frowned seeing it. The multi vitamins that had fruit flavors.

“Don't you like it? Daddy got you this one specifically because the pharmacist told me a lot of trying women get it” Leon smiled, placing his hand on your thigh.

You snatched the vitamin to see what it has.

Vitamin D, B6, B12, Vitamin C, Vitamin A, B9

What the actual fuck

“Are you insane??” You yelled. Leon's eyebrows raised. You finally said a word to him after the event, but yelling at him? He can't be having his wife yelling at the breadwinner.

“Dove. Watch your mouth” Leon said calmly, but his grip tightened.

“All I ever wanted for you is happiness honey. We will have many children. Look around the bedroom honey. The outside. Can't you see we are more than available to raise children? You're young and beautiful. We can have children. For now, I'm worried you're short on essential vitamins. And I heard it could affect fertility” Soon his eyes narrowed as he understood it was necessary to take another way.

“I know what I did was… wrong… Maybe you would have wanted me to approach it in a traditional way. But I just couldn't wait for you. Plus… you already know you would have rejected my offer. You were too deep in hurting yourself. I'm helping you. I'm helping us. We're building a future. Together”

“You should go to therapy”

Leon narrowed his eyes again. “Sleep well angel. You're not clearly thinking well” he said, kissing the forehead before lying beside you.

During the night you tossed around. What if you could overdose on vitamins and just end this suffering? There was no one to look out for you. You got fired, the only family you have is an alcoholic that you cut contact with, and no real friends. You were alone in this.

[praisethegabs]

B.D.S.M

Leon Kennedy x F!Mistress!Reader

synopsis: leon has a guilty pleasure, which is a deep secret no one knows. every time after a stressful mission, leon goes to this particular place to release his tension. you're too familiar with the man, already knowing what he loves. he's your favorite customer. you're his favorite mistress.

warnings: PURE SMUT. bdsm on its edge. degradation kink, praise kink, shibari, use of pet names, sex toys, sub!leon and dom!reader, handjob, edging, spanking, gaging, spanking, flogging, role-playing.

word count: 3735k

a/n: sub!leon always comes to my mind for unknown reasons. he's so fucking cute and awkward. sometimes, I don't see him as the dominant one, I think he's more of a switch. anyway, I wrote this bc I thought it would be funny to change sides (since the last smut I wrote was with dom!leon)

Leon's footsteps echoed through the corridor as he made his way back home. His mind was still reeling from the stress of the mission he had just completed. The weight of the world seemed to press down on his shoulders, and he yearned for a way to escape the constant tension that plagued him.

It was almost three in the morning, but he didn't care. Due to the nature of his job, Leon had a highly irregular schedule. His timing was inconsistent, and he did not have a set time to return home. It could be morning, afternoon, evening, or the middle of the night. Although his busy schedule demanded most of his time, Leon still had something that couldn't be postponed.

As he entered his apartment, he casually threw his leather jacket onto a chair and ran his hand through his tousled hair. The peaceful solitude of his home only intensified the profound loneliness that had settled deep within him. He needed a release, a way to forget the horrors he had witnessed. With a sigh, he reached for his phone and dialed a number that he had carefully stored in his contacts. The screen lit up, and he waited for it to ring. He felt a mixture of anticipation and relief when the call was answered.

"Hello," a sultry voice purred on the other end of the line. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Leon's voice was filled with a mixture of longing and vulnerability as he replied, "I need to see you, Mistress."

A wicked smile played on your lips as you spoke on the other end of the line. "Of course, darling. I have just the thing to help you forget about your troubles. How soon can you come to my dungeon?"

Leon quickly checked his schedule. "I can be there in an hour," he replied.

"Perfect," you purred. "Prepare yourself and don't keep me waiting. We have much to explore, and I promise you that by the time we're done, all your worries will be left far behind."

As the call ended, Leon felt a renewed sense of anticipation and excitement. Your dungeon provides a sanctuary from the outside world, a place where he can relinquish control and seek solace in the pain and pleasure you provide. It was his escape, a way to let go of the burden he carried, if only for a few precious hours.

As Leon sipped a glass of wine, he gazed out of the window, his thoughts in turmoil. His work demanded discipline, control, and unwavering focus. Yet, it was in the realm of submission and surrender that he found the release he craved - an escape from the relentless pressure of his responsibilities.

Leon had always been a man of contradictions, and his desire for you was no exception. He wondered if his fascination with you was a reflection of his own internal struggles, a means to delve into the depths of his own desires and vulnerabilities. Guilt gnawed at him as he thought about the secrets he kept and the double life he led.

But as he replayed the memories of their encounters in his mind, he couldn't deny the intoxicating allure of your power and the blissful release it provided. It was a guilty pleasure he couldn't resist, a secret aspect of his life that provided him with a sense of liberation he couldn't find anywhere else.

You knew absolutely nothing about Leon, except for his preferences.

He always liked the rough style. As a skilled dominatrix, you know how to please a man. Since he discovered you, he has requested to become your exclusive client, and the payment he has provided is sufficient to reserve your availability exclusively for him. Fortunately, you were familiar with his schedule, so you began working mostly at night, which suited him perfectly.

You have set up an entire dungeon in your basement. It was the perfect place to meet his needs exactly as he wanted it.

At first, seeing his physique made you think he would be a great dominant. However, you eventually found out that he was more of a submissive man. Completely bent over your knees, ready to obey your commands without hesitation. Most dungeons do not permit sexual intercourse between dominants and submissives, but for him, this dynamic does not adhere to such restrictions. Since you have a dungeon in your own home, you have decided to make some slight modifications to the rules.

Obviously, you have never had sex with him, but other aspects of your relationship work just fine.

Leon's footsteps echoed through the garden as he made his way towards the entrance of his hidden sanctuary. Each step was a solemn reminder of the mission that had just been concluded. The scent of leather and candle wax hung in the air, familiar and comforting. He pushed open the unassuming door at the end of the hallway, revealing a hidden secret world beyond.

The dungeon served as a sanctuary for him, a place where he could escape the burdens of his perilous existence. His eyes quickly adjusted to the dim lighting, and there you were, dressed in black leather, waiting for him in the center of the room. Your presence commands attention; your aura is a captivating blend of power and sensuality.

"Welcome back, Kennedy," you purred, your lips curling into a mischievous grin. "You're not late; you arrived just in time."

Leon's tense shoulders relaxed as he stepped further into the dungeon, the door clicking shut behind him. He locked eyes with you, and a silent understanding passed between the two of you. He shed his jacket, the leather creaking as he tossed it aside, revealing the tension that had built up in his muscles during the mission.

You moved towards him, the sound of your heels clicking against the cold stone floor, with a devious glint in your eyes. "You look like you've had a rough day, my dear," you said, as your fingers lightly traced the contours of his jaw. "But, you know, I'm here to take care of you."

"Yes, Mistress," he nodded, closing his eyes to savor your touch and emitting a slight moan.

"Strip now," you ordered him, and stepped back to prepare the rest of the room and your toys.

The words were both a promise and a command, and Leon nodded in agreement. He needed this - the sensation of control slipping away from his grasp, the catharsis of pain and pleasure intertwined. You led him to the St. Andrew's Cross, a symbol of his shared desire for submission and domination.

With practiced ease, you secured his wrists and ankles to the cross, using leather restraints to keep him in place. Leon's heart raced, his mind focused solely on the anticipation of what would come next. The room seemed to shrink, closing in around him, leaving only the two of them and the palpable tension in the air.

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his earlobe. "What would you like today, darling?" You whispered, asking your question.

"Take me to the edge, Mistress," Leon said, gazing at you with unwavering confidence.

"Very well," you nodded in agreement. "Remember the safe word, just in case."

Leon nodded once more and prepared himself for what was about to begin. He was waiting for the first strike to experience pleasure, but nothing happened. His eyes met yours, and he felt a shiver down his spine when he noticed the smile on your face.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" You approached him seductively, holding a flogger in your hands, your nails digging into his flesh.

"I forgot my collar, Mistress," he said, his breath heavy with the sudden realization that he had forgotten the only item he was permitted to wear. "I'm sorry, Mistress."

"Oh, bunny, you know we don't accept apologies," you said, biting his earlobe. "And do you know what this means?"

Leon nodded, biting his lip. He felt the first whip strike him hard, causing him to emit a loud moan. He tightly grips the leather restraints on his wrists, and the second blow leaves a red mark on his stomach. The third strike narrowly missed his cock and you can see him trembling as each blow compels him to seek relief from the agony of your flogging.

"Please, Mistress, forgive me," Leon begs, as you continue to flog him. Another strike, another groan.

"Have you learned your lesson, bunny?" You asked, delivering another whip to him, striking harder.

“Yes, Mistress. I did” Leon almost yelled, trying helplessly to avoid your strikes. His body was already red from the flogging. "Please, I won't forget it anymore."

You stopped, letting the flog aside. You took a leather collar from the drawer and placed it around his neck. His breath was heavy, and his entire body was shaking. He was indeed enjoying the anticipation of the punishment, although he had no idea what was about to happen. You untied him from the St. Andrews Cross, and he stood there, waiting for your next command.

"Stand in the center of the room," you commanded, holding a remote. He nods, walking with his naked, red body to the center of the dungeon.

You threw a silver spreader bar in his direction, and you didn't have to say it twice. Leon secured his ankles in the spreader bar, and once he was done, he glanced at you again. Silently, you pressed the button and then shackled his wrists to a drop-down ceiling bar. Pressing the button again, he stretched his arms in the air. The bondage dungeon is filled with furniture that enables you to attach him to any object in whichever manner you please.

Now he stands completely naked, with his ankles spread apart by a spreader bar and his arms stretched in the air, wearing nothing but his collar.

You stand before him, wearing a devilish smile on your lips. Suddenly, you firmly grasp his erect penis and apply pressure. You can see tears welling up in his sapphire-blue eyes as he bites his lip and tightly grips the shackles above his head. You squeeze it harder, and he gasps, yelping in pain. You paused for a moment, observing him. Another intense squeeze, another wave of pain, and he screams out loud. You finally release his cock and he exhales with relief, tears still streaming down his cheek.

"You're nothing but a sex toy. Look at you, so miserable," you said, as you walked around him and slapped his ass. "Such a naughty boy, desperate to be humiliated, aren't you?"

"Yes, Mistress," his voice trembles as you slap his ass.

"Your purpose is to provide fuckings, am I right?" You asked again, delivering another slap to him, causing his body to jerk.

"Yes, Mistress," Leon nods again, his body jerking with each slap against his sensitive skin.

"Who owns you, fuckboy?" You stepped closer, gripping his hair firmly, causing him to emit a soft groan.

"You do, Mistress," he quickly replies, his Adam's apple bobbing rapidly up and down.

"Do I own your cock as well?" You asked again, leaving love bites on his skin.

"Yes, Mistress, you do."

You take his cock again, smacking it harder and making him yelp again. Tears were already rolling down his cheeks once more. You walk to your box of instruments and retrieve the manuscript clips. You take one clamp, gently open it, and place it over his left nipple. Carefully close the clamp, ensuring that it does not cause any pain. He tries to hold his breath and keep his mouth shut while you repeat the same process on his right nipple.

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll bear it all night," you wink at him, and he nods silently.

Then, your hand reached his cock again and you started to masturbate him. You can see his hands tightly gripping the shackles, and his breath growing heavier with each passing second. Leon began moaning, with each moan growing louder as you continued to stimulate him with your hands. And you keep masturbating him until you know he's close.

And then, you come to a complete stop, causing him to whine out loud.

"Bad boys don't get rewarded," you said, and pressed the button to lower the ceiling bar. "Kneel."

He obeys by kneeling down. The ceiling is high enough for him to stretch his arms in the air, and you are sitting directly in front of him. You don't have to say anything; he already knows what to do. Leon crawls between your legs and opens his mouth. He bends forward, his arms stretching upward before him. The restraints are not sufficient to allow him to approach you, and observing him beg for your pussy amuses you.

"Please, Mistress, allow me to pleasure you in my mouth” he begs, his voice filled with desperation as he fights back tears, inching closer to you.

His cock twitches and aches. He's desperate to be released, to ejaculate all over his body, longing to feel your touch. You keep teasing him by not allowing him to get closer to you, making him see your wide pussy open in front of him, yet denying him the ability to touch or engage with you.

"Please, I'm begging, Mistress," he pleads again, desperately trying to reach you.

"Such a pathetic, whining boy," you said, tightly gripping his jaw in your hands.

You released his wrists and ankles, instructing him to walk towards the bondage horse. He silently obeys you and walks straight to the corner of the room. With red ropes, you tied his arms and hands behind his back. Its shape is that of a half barrel with wide ledges and wings, covered in black leather. Leon positions his knees on each wing, and you proceed to shackle him once more, ensuring that he is securely locked on the edge of the frame. His collar is attached by chains on both sides to the ceiling bar, keeping his head up and facing forward.

"What do you deserve?" you ask, as you walk around the room and pick up your flogger once more.

"To be punished, Mistress," he responds, his eyes locked on the wall in front of him.

"Why?" you asked before striking him hard.

"Because I am a bad man," Leon says, his body jerking again with the whimpering.

You smiled, satisfied, and started to whip him until his entire back was red. When you're done with his back, you move to face him, squeezing his cock again. Leon is on the verge of tears, gasping and unable to control himself. In an instant, without your command, he ejaculates onto your hand. His entire face turns red.

"Did I say you could cum?" you asked him, squeezing his sensitive cock, causing him to whine in pain once more.

"No, Mistress. I'm sorry," he begs, tears falling down his face once more.

"Privilege revoked," you hissed, walking towards your torment box. Leon is visually impaired, but he sheds tears when he senses something cold around his cock. He knows what it is. "You'll come only when I say so."

You walk back to the corner of the room after locking the chastity cage on him. When you return, Leon flinches slightly as he feels your thumb pressing against him from behind. You uses oil and you're smearing it around his anus. A finger slips, then your thumb. Another finger, he already knows what's coming.

He feels the rubber sliding inside, and he moans again. He feels the initial pain, but he's okay with it. You slide it further, allowing the oil to lubricate him internally. You pull back the toy and gently begin a rhythmic back-and-forth fucking of his ass. You have precision and an obvious regular rhythm. Leon moans, closing his eyes and feeling the helplessness of his submission. You insert the toy into him, and he can hear you pressing a button.

It starts to vibrate inside his hole.

To keep him quiet, you place a ball gag in his mouth and leave him in his current state. He is tormented by a dildo in his anus, restrained by shackles and ropes, rendering him unable to move, resist, or voice any complaints. You sit, playing with the remote control of the device in your hands, adjusting the intensity to elicit either loud moans or soft whines from him.

The cock cage on him is painful, and he is aware of it. With his already aroused state, it becomes nearly impossible for him to cum without your consent, and he is aware that this is precisely what you desire. He is unable to move, but the vibration in his ass makes his flesh to ripple. It makes him shake his body. Leon moans again, whether from the pain caused by the cage or the vibration inside his ass. He shakes his head, the only movement he can make.

You press the button, and he sighs with relief, but not completely. You pump him again a few times and stop. You thrust into him quickly and forcefully, causing him to groan and moan. After some time, there is a final push, a powerful thrust that is enough to rock the bondage horse. He moans aloud again. You walk around the corner again and gently push something metallic, cold, and smooth inside his ass. Leon feels the object and thinks it's large, expanding inside him. Then, it pops in, causing a painful stretch that makes him scream again.

"Clean it," you tell him, pointing to his white semen on the leather bondage material. You unshackle his collar from the ceiling bar and his ankles from the restraints, but keep his arms tied with the ropes.

He obediently leans over from his waist until his tongue reaches the black leather. He licks it in wide swaths, gathering all his juices from his previous unauthorized release, leaving only his saliva behind.

You can see the color of his cock. He's so hard and sensitive. When Leon finishes cleaning the bondage horse, he kneels in front of you, waiting patiently. He is clearly struggling to hold back his orgasm, but at the same time, he is on the brink of climax.

"Desperate to cum, huh?” you teased, gently stimulating his sensitive nipples, eliciting another groan from him.

"Yes, Mistress," he says, his voice shaking once more.

You sat in an armchair in front of him, your legs spread apart, offering a tantalizing view of your glistening arousal. He doesn't move, but when he sees you nod, he knows what to do. He leans closer, and you can feel his tongue on your wet, sensitive, and swollen clit. He sucks you, savoring your taste, and moaning from the pleasure mixed with the slight pain he feels on his cock. You moan and grip his hair tightly, urging him to continue sucking you.

And when you reach your orgasm, Leon has to force himself to calm down, feeling your cunt on his face. His cock is hurting and you decide to please him in the appropriate manner.

“Color” you ask him, playfully tweaking his nipple.

"Green, Mistress," he says, trembling. He's lying.

"What color is it, bunny?" you asked him again, gripping the metal of his collar.

"Yellow, Mistress," Leon shakes. The pain in his cock is excruciating.

You released his cock from the cage, and he sighed with relief, only to gasp at your touch. He was very sensitive, and you started to masturbate him again. You took your magic wand and placed it under his dick, vibrating with intense power, while your other hand moved up and down on him. Leon can't last long. He's already too close to reaching orgasm. You, on the other hand, don't care. You continue to deliberate, his rhythm becoming tense.

"Go on, be a good boy and cum for your Mistress," you said, increasing your pace on him.

The words are enough. It emanates from his core and bursts out. His thighs and red belly shuddered first, as if he were being electrocuted. Then, it surged upward, causing his entire chest to shake as he let out a guttural moan, a mixture of pain and pleasure. Afterward, you removed the clips from his nipples, and he yelped and cried again. You also removed the plug from his anus, leaving it elsewhere.

Now, you have him standing at the end of the bondage horse again, and you instruct him to bend over and protrude his ass out. You tied him with the red ropes in a different manner, and he obeys you. This time, you take a flogger to his ass, almost caressing his cheeks with its sleek leather strands. Then, it comes out of nowhere.

The brutal spank of the cane striking his ass. He screams.

You cane him again, this time on his right ass cheek. He screams again and sobs. The third strike goes again. Leon yells.

You guide him to a nearby mirror and compel him to observe the three red marks on his ass.

He's crying. You had successfully led him to his edge, but you knew when to stop. You removed the gag from his mouth and untied the ropes that had left his arms almost purple. Then, you placed a robe on him. Aftercare is important, even in this type of situation.

"Are you okay?" you asked, leading him to the sofa in the opposite corner. "I know you wanted to be on the edge, but this is dangerous. Did something happen?"

"I'm fine, thanks," Leon says softly, although his entire body is in pain. "Just... don't worry, okay? I like it when you get rough with me."

"I'm not complaining, but are you sure you're okay?" you asked, embracing him and allowing his head to rest on your chest.

"I'm fine, trust me," he chuckles.

There is a moment of silence. Usually, he doesn't stay for aftercare. He gets what he wants and then leaves, but there's something different this time. You don't say anything, you decide to give him some space. This night was heavily different from the others, and you're not sure he's really alright.

“Can we do it again?” He lifts his head so he can see you. “But this time, can you blindfold me?”

You smirk. It's time for another round. 

[strawberrysnoopy]

ACT ONE: The Photoshoot, Part Four of Four.

warnings: tobacco, smoking, alcohol use, briefest mention of using alcohol as a coping mechanism, mentions of infidelity (as always), ada slander at times (sorry), texting for a while, leon's a bit of a perv, sex, pussy, balls, dick, yeah you get the gist.

(a/n): sike bitch you thought.

FINAL PART OF ACT ONE: THE PHOTOSHOOT.

Your husband was on the dining room floor, groaning in pain, with blood spattered across the kitchen tile from spitting the drips of blood that fell down his throat from his nose. Leon had fucked him up, hard and good. His nose was broken, he had a black eye, his lip was busted open like a button on a shirt, and he had some beginnings of a cauliflower ear. Jesus, Leon gets the damn job done. That must be why he's deployed all the time. "We should..." Leon pauses, wiping some blood from his own unbroken nose with a sniffle. "...take him to the emergency room. I fucked him up pretty good." You nod in agreement, placing your hands on your hips as if you're looking at some new problem that you found in your garden. Like some field mice have been getting into the blackberry bush again. Whatever. You've seen him in worse cases. I mean, there is that time where he tried to kick someone's ass for not playing pool the right way off of three obscenely large tall boy beers. You should've left him then, but now he's on your kitchen floor with his ass beat and his hot ass friend looking down on him. "We should. I think that'll be a good idea. Are you okay? Any impairments?" He shakes his head, loosely gesturing to the black eye that had begun forming, his eyelid peppered in tiny red spots and a smear of a maroon red near the tear duct. The kicker? He wore it so strongly too, like it hadn't bothered him at all, and let's be honest, it hadn't.

You near the front door of your house, pulling the noisy keys out of your pocket to unlock the door. Leon was behind you, hands awkwardly stuffed in the pockets of his denim jeans and tapping his feet. He looked out of place to be awkward. Black-eye clad with dried blood in the nooks and crannies of his skin. "Never realized how pretty your house was, sweetheart." There was a sudden flush in your cheeks at the nickname, not used to people calling you such names of endearment besides the photographers or shoot directors in a weak attempt to get you to pose correctly. You thank him quietly, unlocking the door and pushing through. You waltz over to the kitchen in a spent fashion, noticing little droplets of blood on your kitchen tile. You know you should be mad. A satisfied wife would be furious that someone had laid hands on her husband. You? You were giddy. Like someone had finally understood what a cunt your husband could be and did something besides laugh it off. You expected Leon to tell him to fuck off or make some snarky remark in defense of you, but telling you that he'd fuck you? God damn, it made your head spin. Yes, you've been replaying this thought in your head for the past few hours and the little flashes in your mind of Leon defiling your loyalty had your panties all twisted up. And he beat up your husband over some little thing like he had been waiting for his opportunity his entire life.

Capital H Hot.

You go through the rounds of patching him up, making silent conversation to ease that burning in the pit of your stomach. The conversation had been chock full of apologies from Leon, saying how he was sorry on saying he'd fuck you. "I'm sorry." He begins, and you raise your hand up to stop him from saying anything more.

Sorry? Why on god's green earth would Leon be sorry in saying he'd fuck you if your husband wasn't doing the job correctly? If anything, the statement had set your skin ablaze with salacity and your mind buzzing with impure thoughts of him fucking you against their marital beds. "Don't apologize." You spoke, eyes accidentally shown to be half-lidded, hiding it behind the "fact" you're looking down at the splat of blood on his cheek. "If that's what you truly mean, say it. It's not a crime to find someone attractive, the only thing wrong is if you act on it." His mouth is left open for a few beats before making the two parts of his jaw meet again. He couldn't tell if it was an admission that you had been feeling the same turmoil he'd been feeling. Those sleepless nights. Staring at the ceiling next to your spouse while they sleep, desiring what they cannot have in another bed. Your patience was pinching, the thirst through your thighs turning into a ticking time bomb, and to rephrase the previous points, your cunt was in unbearable need to get fucked. "Then I guess I want to fuck you." There was no dancing around it. No I'm attracted to you in a friendly "that's the way it is" type of way. Straight to the point. I want to take off my goddamn clothes and fuck you. I want to be intimate with you in the most perverse ways possible. You should slap him. You shouldn't have tended to his wounds. You shouldn't have let him into the comfort of your home.

But you did. Because you want the same thing as Leon. Sex. Not the cheap sex your spouses have been trying to give you for your entire relationship. Sex.

Your hand strays from his face, sucking in a breath when you wipe up the rest of the dried blood. He hopped off the counter, his finger subtly swiping against you hip to stave off that insatiable beast in him that wants to fuck you.

"Come to my room." You whisper, your chin barely brushing over your shoulder, clad in the bland cardigan you wore to keep yourself warm from the chilling night thus far. And you sound like you're inviting him for sex. And he doesn't want to fucking reject you.

"Is this okay?" You hold up an old college t-shirt to him, bringing the fabric closer to his still clothed chest. The shirt was one of your husband's from long ago. You had honestly thought about tossing out the shirt in a yard sale but never had the time or will to do so. "Should be." He pulls off his shirt in a languid motion, slipping the ratty tee over his head instead. Your eyes catch Leon's trail of hair, well groomed and cut down not too long ago judging based off of the short stubbly hairs on his abdomen. "Rude to stare, silly girl." You mumble out a quiet "sorry" to him while leaving the bedroom, presumably changing into your own pajamas. But before you can get two feet out the door, he's tugging on your wrist. "Stop." His voice is quiet, lustful with that slight demand. Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, wondering where he's suddenly getting the gall to tug on your wrist like this when he was just begging for forgiveness so much earlier. Your confusion unwrites itself on your face when he takes off your husband's shirt. He's shirtless again, the long scars and fading bruises and cuts from missions he's taken a few weeks prior visible on his skin. Your eyes don't fail you when they settle on the happy trail you were drooling over moments ago. "Why are you looking at me like that, hm?" He asks, moving closer by a smidge, you wouldn't have noticed if your senses weren't already heightened by the arousal you've been feeling since he first came over for dinner. Damn him, keeping you wound up like a clockwork toy and expecting you to prance over like some whore. "You're married. I'm married." He's getting closer, lips tracing towards your cheekbone and getting closer to your ear. "Honey, has anyone ever told you how wrong that is?" You swallow down so goddamn hard, your esophagus might as well have been torn to shreds. "Leon—" He interrupts you, pulling away from your cheek and letting his eyes flit over your body, tutting his tongue as if he's disappointed you're not naked already. "I'm not finished, sweetheart." "Do you know how torturous it is? Looking at you while you're married and you don't even have a fucking clue as to how bad I want to fuck you against every surface of the home you share with your husband? Even though I cannot have you? You're such a fucking tease, making me want you like some goddamn degenerated pervert." His lips tease the skin near your jaw, breathing in your essence like he was stealing it for himself. "And Ada. Oh, she's no fucking help. Treating me like I'm some whipped dog for her. Even when she's never there. She doesn't know I dream of you every time she's away."

You can't even speak. This was such a far cry from the Leon you knew. This was the same man who always had snarky comments and sarcastic one-liners that made you laugh, who respected you, who talked to you like you had known each other since birth. Then again, yearning is an insane drug and Leon's a loyal addict. "Say something before I go insane, sweetheart." He whispered, nudging your head to the side, allowing access to your pulse, rapidly beating under sweaty skin. You don't say anything. Your hands just weave themselves into his hair, tugging and pulling him closer when he's brough into a passionate kiss. Your hands are about to reach for his belt when his phone buzzes. The first time, it's ignored in the heat of the moment. Maybe just some old friend asking to meet up later this weekend. You're in the middle of pulling the belt off, his hands greedily grabbing at your tits and ass when the phone buzzes again. "Need you." He whispered, biting your cheek like some wild animal. The buzzing of texts eventually turn into a consistent vibration of a phone call. Pulling out his phone, Leon realizes it's something he can't just ignore for some pussy. "We need to stop." You murmur back to him, trying to wean yourself off of kissing him. Stop, stop, stop. Even though you don't want to and the only thing you'd enjoy is having him bust your head in against the headboard while telling you how much he loves your pussy.

But he pulls away, stopping the kneading on your ass and your tits, much to his displeasure. For a minute, you're left panting and with the ever lingering feeling of his strong calloused hands all over your skin. You stare down at the emboldened caller ID. Ada. You rewet your eyes by blinking, eyes going dry by staring wide-eyed at his phone. Is he gonna answer that? You hope not. You want him to finish what he started and especially after all of those admissions of lust to you as well, there's no going back. He sighed, picking up the phone while you walked out of your own bedroom. You feel sick. You're supposed to love your husband but your pussy is fucking throbbing at the way another man's hands explore your body. His best friend, no less. He's supposed to be the strong and outspoken man yet he's on a leash for his wife who treats him like shit. And for the first time, you finally mutter a fuck you to Leon you mean with your full chest.

taglist: @heylesamis, @sweetserial, @iloveyousomuch1989, @galatict3a, @m1sery-busin3ss, @ssulfurr, @nic-stars, @g0rep1ty,@nomorekerkanymoranymor,

[mandalhoerian]

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.

[astrofals]

hai… ignore the selfship and look at his face hes so kyute I wanna kill him