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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Leon Kennedy is not easily stressed.
He is right now, though.
His current main priority is getting to you. But the universe clearly does not like him. At all.
Because he and Neal have genuinely been fighting for their lives to get past the incoming soldiers and goons since they blew up the airfield. Every time they think the situation is clear and they've killed the last one of them, a new group of back-up comes their way. It's exhausting and costs them a lot of time.
And then there's issue number two. He doesn't know exactly where you are or what direction you're going into, and you haven't responded to anything that was said over the comms ever since you and Yoko had to split up.
Which was probably about forty minutes ago, if not longer.
He's extremely worried. Why the hell aren't you answering anything? God, he fears the worst.
He's briefly pulled out of his constant state of anxiety when the radio that belonged to the now dead soldier begins to make noise. He turns the volume up and puts it to his ear, him and Neal looking at each other as they listen to the words of the commander.
"Attention to units 5A and 5B — there's reports of a woman screaming near the ruins by the cliffs, seaside. Presumably a hostile. Send someone in to investigate the situation. Our men are getting killed, the power is out, this is a targeted attack — so kill them unless you want them to kill you first."
"Someone screaming?" Neal asks with wide eyes, and they're both thinking the same thing.
"That's gotta be her. Shit. She's already weak, if someone hurts her, that's gonna get her killed."
"We need to get back to the storages. Fast."
As the two agents begin to make haste, Leon huffs to himself out of frustration. "Fuck. This is not how tonight was supposed to go."
"What do you mean?"
As they squeeze through a narrow gap in between some rocks, he absentmindedly explains it. "Spending a night of survival together is pretty much our thing. I guessed we could use it as a way to put our differences to the side, make amends, make her see reason — not like this."
Neal narrows his eyes at the statement, but chooses not to respond to it.
They spot reinforcements in the distance. The younger one of them groans. "Fucking hell. How many guys does Simmons have on his paycheck?"
"Too many."
"Sooner or later, we're gonna get caught."
"Then you, I don't know, distract them."
"Any suggestions?"
"Scream at them. Fake an epileptic seizure. Go nuts."
