RADICALISATION, leon kennedy [1]

⤿ x. angel on your shoulder

┌────────────────────────────┐

𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑡𝑤𝑜: 𝑐𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑏𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔

𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑒𝑛: 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑙 𝑜𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑒𝑟

└────────────────────────────┘

Raccoon City Police Department — September 29th, 1998

     Mason and Leon make it back up the stairs and into the police station, their weapons primed and ready for any lumbering infected. Once they've ensured that there's nothing around, Mason sheaths his blade and sees if there is anything useful around, boarding up more windows along the way with any scraps of wood he can find. Leon, on the other hand, moves to check out the closed room in front of them, calling out to his partner in crime when he makes out the break room.

     There's not much to be found inside, except for a few boxes of handgun ammunition for Leon's beloved Matilda handgun, and Mason is still bemused that everything feels like they're in a video game. The random placing of ammunition and all the puzzles... If they're in any kind of video game, they are definitely in a survival horror game filled with hordes and hordes of zombies, and that is genuinely amusing to Mason.

     He finds some shotgun shells for the W-870 and chucks them to Leon before searching the back room, finding another fuse — this one no doubt for another lot of shutters blocking their way forward. Not too far away from the fuse, Mason makes out a stash of MAG ammunition that will definitely come in handy once they get their hands on the Lightning Hawk Magnum upstairs. With the amount of firearms and other weaponry they have, Mason has the feeling that they may very well make it out of Raccoon City with fewer issues than he's predicted.

     Wiping what he can of the drying blood from his hands upon his dark pants, Mason decides to risk it a little. He heads to the sink against the far wall and scrubs his hands with soap, watching in the faint light from Leon's flashlight upon a table as the bloody soap suds swirl down the drain. The rookie in question looks like he's seen a ghost, face pale, when he realises exactly what Mason is doing, and the green-eyed man wants to laugh.

     But he gets it. He gets why the other man is uneasy.

     "I'm not ingesting it. I'll be fine." Mason dries his hands on the nearby hand towel and hums happily, his bloody hands now almost unmarred. The slight stain of red remains, but that's the least of his worries. "Seriously, I'm not gonna get infected. Not from washing my hands at least."