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...
content warnings: torture, brief moment of self-harm, a whole lotta violence, minor suicidal thoughts, sorta the final fight :D
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Everyone in the room gasps when you put the knife up against your own throat, your heart beating like crazy as you take a few deep breaths to muster the courage.
A small stream of blood comes out as you successfully force the blade to dig into your own skin.
"Do that and your friends will get shot." His voice is cold and monotonous. He doesn't care what you're going through. Not even the slightest bit.
So you very angrily huff with flared nostrils, slowly dragging the knife away from your neck, putting your hands up. "Motherf—fine! Fine. You're saying one of us needs to die, and the rest is free to go?"
"Of course."
You have to do everything in your power not to grimace at his overly kind tone. "If I do what you ask, I'd like to win my fight fairly. My opponent can't be tied up."
"Speaking of which, you still haven't chosen."
You pretend to think about it, making eye contact with every single one of them, even though you already knew who you'd choose the moment he suggested it.
A simple nod of your head in his direction does it. "Him."
The other members of the team begin to protest the moment they notice who you're talking about, but they're pulled back by the soldiers standing near them, tugging on the restraints.
Lloyd rubs his wrists after they've untied him. He doesn't say a word, doesn't show a single emotion, nothing.
He knew you'd choose him.
Then he speaks up. "Looks like you're finally getting that sparring session you were hoping for on the day we met."
He takes a few steps to the left, you to the right. "About time."
Flipping the knife in your hand, you grab it by the handle and wrap your fingers around it, being the first to go in for an attack, which he blocks, even though you notice it did hurt him.
Neither of you go easy on the other. If you didn't know any better, you'd hardly think you're both injured. He pushes you against the wall with a loud thud, and you lose your eyesight for a moment, but regain it just as quickly.
Adrenaline rushes through you again, a nice feeling before you'll undoubtedly meet your end.
You deal a blow to his stomach with your elbow, he punches your jaw, and several drops of blood splatter onto the wall from the impact. You nearly suffocate him in a headlock, he attempts to injure your good leg. It's a constant back-and-forth that doesn't seem to end.
If anything, he's your most worthy opponent yet.
And as violent as the whole thing is, he's still holding back. So are you.
