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woodlandpoetic · 2 years ago

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File #001 - Conspiracy

City of the Dead

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x OC

Word Count: 2k (getting back into the swing so cut a lady some slack)

Fandom: Resident Evil

Warnings: Slight mention of suicide and other injuries.

A/N: This chapter is more so an introduction to our main character and some setting and it's a tad short but don't worry, it's gonna get interesting and ofc, we'll have Leon soon enough.

August 25, 1998.

Amara had thought nothing of the reduced number of S.T.A.R.S. members who were at their desks upon her return only a month prior. But now? Now she was more than a little curious. Irons wasn’t exactly as forthcoming as she would hope and it wasn’t exactly like Chris and Jill-whom she felt the closest with-were even around to ask, both of their absences weren’t clearly explained and Chris left a note about a supposed vacation in Europe that sounded way too enthusiastic. Okay, to backtrack a bit, Irons gave her some reasoning in that the team could now be disbanded with the city becoming safer.

But that didn’t explain how quickly it all seemed to occur in her absence. Not to mention, today’s press conference seems to squash that reason. Considering that Mayor Harris today just announced that the city was hiring ten to twelve more recruits due to the suspension of duty for S.T.A.R.S. Would a safe city need to hire more officers?

He also didn’t hesitate to spit on the names of her colleagues (herself included), saying the remaining members of the team clearly didn’t care enough about this city and its people considering they skipped town or wouldn’t show their faces. Which Amara knows is a crock of shit, no one cared more about this city than this team.

She still remembers the day she returned, July 26, refreshed and certainly more relaxed than when she left for her vacation. Rhonda, one of the desk sergeants happily greeted her, more than a little excited as she practically tackled Amara into a hug. Something that the sergeant never usually did prior.

“I think I speak for everyone when I say we’re glad to have you back,” The woman gives Amara a look that she can’t decipher but she still gladly returns the warm welcome.

Shortly after that, Irons sends for her and that’s when he breaks it to her. And that also meant she was out of a job.

Now? Now, she’s a private investigator. It’s not like she was present for the suspension of duty of the team but Amara still insisted on doing something, anything to help her colleagues in other areas. She still had value. Not in an official capacity, but this would suffice.

The cases weren’t as exciting as they used to be, but someone had to look into these things and Amara decided it was better her than anyone else.

It was in the middle of Amara’s long-standing game of “Trash Basketball”, that the phone began ringing.

“Webb Investigations,” Amara said, immediately leaning her head into her palm. She got so used to the calls either being accidental dials and said boring cases. But this time? This time was very different. The voice, clearly a woman, is a blubbering mess that Amara isn’t even sure if they were speaking coherently. It took a few minutes before she could get her to calm down.

Amara couldn’t recall the last time she’d heard such an ugly display of emotion from anyone. The occasional ridiculous waterworks over a romantic comedy, sure, but this?

“I…I saw this number in my boyfriend’s place. I didn’t want to c-call the police,” The woman,

Roslynn stuttered and slightly hiccuped through her words. Her breathing probably hadn’t caught up with the rest of her calm demeanor.

“It’s…God,..it’s awful. Please hurry.”

“Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be there as soon as possible.” She pulls out a notepad. “Can you tell me where you are?”

Just about everything about this made the alarms in Amara’s head go off. But, she couldn’t ignore her either. Badge or no badge, she still had an obligation to look into it and then proceed with the police from there.

—

The address isn’t too far from where her current office is. The area certainly doesn’t set off any other indicators that something is off but Amara knew better. A lot of beautiful, pristine places hid the ugliest things. Roslynn sat cross-legged in the junction of the front door and the front hallway, an almost unresponsive look in her eyes.

Blood coats her hands, it sticks out like a sore thumb against the untouched fabric of her jeans. Amara’s usual first instinct would’ve been wiping it off. Upon seeing Amara, Roslyn seems to crack once again, gesturing towards the inside.

“Don’t move, I’m going to take a look inside.”

Venturing in further, the smell is the first thing that hits Amara's nose. It was absolutely putrid as if someone left out meat to rot and garbage to pile up. Upon further inspection, some of that smell is emanating from the kitchen. So, the guess wasn’t too far off.

Not many things made her stomach turn, she had seen a lot in her short 21 years moving from place to place as an army brat, but when she found the direct source of what exactly was emanating the smell, her feet couldn’t take her back outside fast enough. All the contents of her breakfast now lay in the grass, Christ, that smell would never leave her now.

Neither would the scene laid out before her. She’d been part of many an investigation outside of her S.T.A.R.S. missions, seen people nursing gunshot wounds and bones protruding and popping out from their skin in attempts to flee. But, seeing blood and brain matter paint the walls is enough to threaten more contents to empty from her stomach and a violent shudder to rack through her body.

“Sorry,” Amara wipes her mouth roughly, “how long ago did you find him?”

“I just got back from a trip a day or two ago. I swear he was fine last we spoke.” Roslynn explained.

“I’m going to take a wild guess and say that you don’t think this was a suicide?” It was a wild jump, considering Amara hadn’t quite got a full investigation over the scene. But, she considered herself to be someone who looked into the small details because they always came together to reveal the bigger picture.

Roslynn shakes her head furiously back and forth, “No way, John was many, many things but suicidal wasn’t one of them.”

“Are you absolutely sure about that?”

“Yes.”

“Then now, we have to get the police involved-”

“But-”

“Yes, I know it’s not ideal, but I have contacts with the RPD, and I can assure you they are more than trustworthy-”

Roslynn interjects, “You don’t understand, I think someone within the RPD did it.”

“What?”

The once hysterical woman turned stoic within minutes and quietly led Amara to sit next to her on the steps. Better to talk outside quietly than to suffer through the stench inside.

“Do you know the company Umbrella?”

“The pharmaceutical company?”

“That’s the one. John is…was a researcher.” Roslynn goes further into her explanation and mentions Bright Raccoon 21. Something Amara heard about often, considering the team she came from, came from efforts to modernize the city with the initiative. She could remember how different Racoon City looked compared to the brochure before her first day in such a short amount of time. No longer was it a small country city but a bustling metropolis.

“Did he ever make you privy to what exactly he was researching?”

“Medicines, cosmetics, the like.” She said. “But, recently, he’d been on edge.”

“I put it down to just nerves, at first. But then, there’d be nights he wouldn’t even speak to me, and then one evening…he just broke down and told me everything vaguely and we moved from our old place to here to hide. Some hiding that was.” Roslynn scoffs.

Amara followed, but that didn’t stop her from more questions. “Hiding from what? Umbrella?”

“More or less, he didn’t go into details but whatever they did, it was bad, really bad.”

“And what makes you think someone within the RPD is part of this?”

“Well, for one, your teams were disbanded. Two, Umbrella funds everything to do with expansion in this city. Whatever John had wasn’t going to paint them in a very good light.”

She made very good points, whoever wouldn’t want this out would kill anyone to protect their cash cow. But, there’s still protocol even as a private investigator. “Roslynn, whether you like it or not, I have to call the police. Now.”

An hour passes before the familiar red and blue lights illuminate the whole street.

Officers and detectives alike cordon off the house now, the once-light sky is almost damn near dark. Amara checks her watch, it’s 5:25 pm. A part of her misses the summer, at least the light stayed a bit longer. Now, the chill in the air grew colder reminding her that fall wasn’t too far off.

“Miss Webb?” A voice sounds behind her and her eyes follow. “A word, please?”

“I’m Max, I’ll be heading up the investigation on this case. And I’m sure you’re already aware of who you’ll need to refer to in the chain of command, should you need any info.” He explained. The dread of letting the RPD handle this case already began creeping into Amara’s head.

What if Roslynn is right? She would be putting her at severe risk and what if Umbrella wanted to finish the job? She chanced another glance over to the front steps as she shifted her weight from one side to another, where another detective stood over Roslynn with a notepad.

A ball of anxiety began pressing itself against her sternum, one she’s always been familiar with and pushed down at any chance. It always arose in circumstances that Amara knew she should probably do more, the same one she felt the day she left home without a word after everything that occurred. She could’ve said anything, done anything, yet she stood by.

Maybe a part of her knows that this can go south quickly, so she pipes up with no regard for the implication of getting involved. “Put me on the investigation, Max.”

His head whips back as if he’d been slapped. “What?”

“Look, if what Roslynn told me is true…you’re gonna need someone of my caliber on board and I’m just about the only one to who she entrusted that information. So, good luck with that idiot over there. And don’t say what I know you’re going to say, badge or no badge, S.T.A.R.S. or no S.T.A.R.S., I’m still a pretty damn good detective.”

“Do you know what you’re getting yourself into?”

Amara crossed her arms over her chest defiantly. “I have a pretty good idea. Now, are you going to let me back inside or not?”

“There’s protocol…” Max doesn't finish his original sentence and instead rolls his eyes, “Five minutes, and that’s all I can give you right now.”

“Fair enough.”

Sidestepping Max, Amara heads back towards the house. The crime scene photographer was hard at work, taking meticulous shots of everything within range of John’s body.

Amara has other plans instead and heads upstairs, where no one seems to have wandered off. If she didn’t know better, she’d assume she entered another house. The upstairs of the house is more refined, pristine, and certainly a researcher’s house. The walls were lined from ceiling to floor with books upon books, and the spines weren’t easily readable, but even from a distance, one could tell they were well used.

This collection put Amara’s to shame, actually.

When she wasn’t dealing with well,…this. Amara would more likely have her head in a book. Even her desk back at the precinct had a decent stack of books—one that Chris never hesitated to accidentally knock over—that practically buried her computer monitor. Reading certainly kept her brain cells more intact than Chris’ and it certainly broke up the occasional boredom between assignments.

While she would love to put her grubby little hands on a few of the books, Amara knew she had business to attend to elsewhere.

John’s office.

Originally, that was where she wanted to start but the smell of decay certainly prevented her from getting further in until now. To no one’s surprise, John’s office looks like any other office of someone deep into their work.

Papers were strewn about the workspace, and computer equipment took up every bit of space on the desk, Amara wasn’t even sure there was a desk underneath all that junk. The light of the moon cast the room in an almost unreal light. She is briefly awestruck by the simple beauty of the natural world to make the most mundane room of the house look so nice.

She needed to focus.

In her search, she noticed the light cast on papers that read Alpha Team - July 24. “Well, hello there.”

Amara gently grabs the papers off the desk, and her first instinct isn’t to immediately read their contents. She turns it over in her hands a few times, and it’s certainly no light reading, that’s for sure.

Her mind froze on what to do next, especially with information such as this. It probably wasn’t that safe to go rifling through its contents on what is now an active crime scene, and if Roslynn told the truth, it didn’t make sense to Amara to give this to Max or anyone yet.

Who’s to say Max isn’t going to hand over to the very person who did this unknowingly?

Stuffing the papers into her jacket's inner lining, she dashes the front door with no further words for Max or anyone else.

The safest hands were still her own.

#please read!#RE #resident evil #Leon Kennedy #leon s kennedy #mutuals

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