The Artful Grace of Puzzles and Past

Chapter One: The Weight of Loneliness

Disclaimer!
I do not own Resident Evil or any of the game franchises or else Leon would've had a better life and fucked Chris Redfield already. But seeing as I do not, I have no right to the characters or their original story arcs. Additionally, I do own the OC's such as Jessica and people in Leon's high school class and the antagonist for later :)

Also the art displayed above is not mine. I can't do digital art for the life of me.
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Some things never changed. Everything just screamed Veronica's style. God, he really wished he wasn't here. The venue was simplistically decorated and decently sized, just enough for everyone and a plus one to attend. Various entrees, sides, and desserts lined a long table in the back corner and another smaller table that was adorned with various non-alcoholic drinks. Fortunately, there was also a bar situated in the opposite corner where a lone bartender calmly cleaned glasses or expertly filled shots and mixed drinks for every patron that came by. Thank god there was some sort of alcohol available, because he didn't think he would survive this stupid event otherwise. Several groups of people mingled together, laughing and chatting to one another as they seemingly caught up on what was currently going on in their lives and what had become of them after they all split roughly a decade ago. High school had been hell, and he sure as shit did not miss seeing any of their faces. He would have gladly spent the rest of his horror show of a life without ever seeing any of them again. But, once again, he wasn't given a choice. 

Veronica, the ex-queen bee and a crazy ass bitch in Leon's opinion, had somehow managed to contact everyone from their graduating class and 'persuade' them to attend her ten-year class reunion party that she had planned. He'd literally just gotten back from the hell that was Spain, when his phone had buzzed with a text notification. He hadn't hesitated to look at it because it was rare that anyone contacted him, including his friends, so he figured it must have been important. Instead, he was greeted with Veronica's face and a weirdly sweet message that screamed false sincerity. He'd kindly told her to fuck off and hoped it would be left at that. He should've known it wouldn't be. She'd pestered him for weeks afterward until he responded, then she'd threatened him with blackmail from back in his awkward teenage stage. He had been tempted to tell her to fuck off again and ignore her, but he'd ended up having a little bit of a realization.

He never really texted anyone, that much he was sure, and he didn't have many friends. Those he still kept in contact with, that were allowed by the DSO, also led busy and dangerous lives. Plus, more often than not, he ended up losing his phone in the field, whether that be through its untimely demise after being thrown through one too many walls, or just because it fell from his pocket while he was busy running for his life. Nevertheless, he was still suspicious as all hell because USSTRATCOM, now the DSO, had been adamant about his status as a ghost agent remaining perfectly intact, thus extending his contact limitations to his personal life as well. Or, basically because he didn't fucking exist anymore all of his personal documents or even social media accounts, any trace of him was erased from every database and safely tucked away within the DSO. And they'd also made it exceptionally clear that should he ever go AWOL, MIA, or even die in the field, they would lay no claim over him and all proof of his existence would die along with him. The only real way to know he'd even been real would be because of the depressingly small circle of people that he knew or still talked to on a semi-regular basis. That being said, somehow this bitch found his information and a way to contact him and had the audacity to try and fucking blackmail him with shit that would be erased the moment it was posted on the internet. He didn't want to go, that much was clear, but he rarely got a chance to be a normal fucking person and do normal shit, so he'd said fuck it, it's not like anyone would really recognize him now anyway. Now, here he was, at the stupid ass party and once again regretting every single life choice he's ever made up until this point. Not to mention, he hasn't even seen Veronica yet, so really, who would notice if he just slipped away and fucking left to do other more useful things with his rarely given time off?