23-year-old Leon Kennedy, Umbrella's finest agent, is sent to Raccoon City in September 1998, during the night of the horrifying outbreak. He's told to secure a sample of the G-virus and to get rid of William Birkin, as well as to kill any of the re...
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One mission.
All he has to do is complete one mission. One mission in a single night. His other assignments have taken up much more of his time. What the hell is a few hours anyways?
They haven't told him much. The mission was assigned to him on short notice, all he knows is that there's been a virus outbreak in Raccoon, which is exactly where he needs to go. The night is probably gonna be long, and they've told him that going there could get him killed — but that risk has always been in every mission.
Rain lashes down the road. It's already dark out, the moon shining somewhere in the distance, as he can see in the rear mirror of his jeep. The sound of the raindrops tapping against the windows is drowned out by some rock song playing on the radio.
It's almost too quiet. Like he needs to be afraid of whatever's waiting for him in Raccoon City.
He isn't.
There's going to be a gas station in about ten miles. He needs to make a stop there to make it to the city. He's driven for several hours already — wondering what the hell he's gonna be in for.
Slightly turning down the volume of the radio, he takes a right, parking his car next to one of the gas pumps. He steps out of the jeep, muffling the music as he closes the door and looks around curiously.
A frown appears on his face as soon as he sees no one in or around the place. Taking a few steps forward, he notices the blood on the floor, and he just knows that it has something to do with whatever he's going to encounter soon.
He takes his gun in hand, then uses his other hand to twist the doorknob, entering the store. As he looks down, the first thing catching his eye is the flashlight on the floor, as well as the pool of blood.
Flashlights could be helpful. He picks it up, holding it in his hand as he keeps walking past the aisles. Near a door, hidden in a corner, a man is sitting in what seems to be his own blood, one hand covering his neck. He's bleeding out, fast.
"Did you get bit?" Leon asks the man, and he nods slowly as a response.
Shoot them in the head.
Those are his orders. If they get bitten, shoot them in the head. No questions asked.
While this man is still alive, he's not going to be for much longer — so he doesn't say anything and simply uses his handgun to do what he's been told.
The man had pointed to what seemed to be the door to the cooler of the store before gaining a bullet between his eyes.
The hair on his arms stand up straight from the cold as he makes his way through to another door that's ajar. While holding up the flashlight, he pushes the door open with his elbow, since he's still holding his gun in his other hand.
"Stop moving!"
A deputy sheriff is restraining a man with bloody hands. "Officer, you need help?"
Said sheriff turns around at his words, letting go of the arm behind his back.
