[Resident Evil 2 Remake x Reader]
•Book 3•
──❝Ethereal Entanglements of the Undead❞──
➤In the quiet city of Raccoon City, a seemingly ordinary citizen named [Y/n] [S/n] awakens to a horrifying reality. The once peaceful streets now teem with an ins...
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──❝The Descension of the Undead❞──
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"ATTENTION ALL CITIZENS: DUE TO THE CITYWIDE OUTBREAK YOU ARE ADVISED TO TAKE SHELTER AT THE RACCOON CITY POLICE STATION. FREE FOOD AND MEDICAL SUPPLIES WILL BE PROVIDED TO EVERYONE IN NEED."
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A palpable sense of unease hung heavy over the Raccoon City Police Department, a foreboding stillness that permeated the very atmosphere. The air felt oppressive, as if the silence itself was a living entity, bearing down upon all those who entered the building, creating a sense of suffocation that threatened to choke the very life of the remaining survivors. The shadows concealed the undead, their mournful moans, and clumsy shuffles reverberating through the desolate, blood-stained streets. Their cloudy eyes, devoid of life, scanned the desolate landscape in search of their next victim, while the pungent odor of decay mingled with the palpable fear that hung heavy in the air, serving as a constant reminder of the unspeakable horrors that had befallen this once vibrant city. The steady drizzle outside only served to exacerbate the somber mood, the sound of raindrops drumming against the dome-shaped roof creating a melancholic rhythm that seemed to underscore the already melancholic ambiance.
The air was thick with an eerie stillness, only occasionally interrupted by the sound of puddles being splashed by footsteps and the ragged, labored breathing of a man. Leon Kennedy, a man of weary determination, forcefully pushed open the heavy doors of the police department, the groan of protesting hinges ringing in his ears as he exerted his strained muscles. His eyes, sharp and focused, darted around the desk as if searching for any signs of life or danger lurking within. His hands, steady and precise, gripped the handle of his weapon firmly, as if preparing for an imminent attack. A pungent odor of decay and rot permeated the air, exacerbating the tangible sense of unease that pervaded the atmosphere. But as he took in the lack of any immediate threats, a sense of relief washed over him, and his shoulders sagged in relief. A deep breath, followed by a slow exhale, signaled the release of tension, and Leon allowed himself to relax, at least for a moment.
Leon lowered his pistol, holstering it with purposeful resolve. The metallic click of the gun sliding into its holster reverberated as he securely fastened it in place, the leather restraint tightening around the weapon. Drawing in a lungful of air, he called out, "Hello...? Is anybody here?" but there was no response. As Leon began his descent down the stairs, his footsteps were slow and measured, barely audible to the ear. The air around him was still and quiet, broken only by the soft thump of his boots against the wooden steps. Leon's eyes were fixed on the green first aid spray box that sat conspicuously on the reception desk. The sleek metal of the spray shone in the faint light, beckoning him closer. "I'll take this," Leon declared, stashing the first aid spray in his pocket for future use.
