RADICALISATION, leon kennedy [1]

⤿ xii. for whom the bell tolls

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𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑡𝑤𝑜: 𝑐𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑏𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔

𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑣𝑒: 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑤ℎ𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑡𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑠

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Raccoon City Police Department — September 29th, 1998

     Their trip up to the second floor is less eventful than that of the ground floor, but the ever present, ominous footsteps of the Tyrant are anxiety inducing enough to make up for that. Well... Both that, and the damn second Licker hanging around outside the dark room, by the stairs heading up to the second floor.

     Mason is breathing even heavier by the time they reach the second floor, and Leon is no more than two seconds away from forcing him to rest — and check his stitches — when they're somewhere safe. Slipping through the showers and into the other hall, Leon finds himself taking the lead, Mason lagging behind a little, clearly limping and in pain, and that cements Leon's plan. And the sight of the door to the office not too far away from them very much helps matters.

     Leon ducks inside the S.T.A.R.S. office, Mason maybe two steps behind him, jabbing his finger at the desk he was sat at earlier. "Sit your ass down, and get out the medical shit you stole. I'm checking your stitches."

     Mason laughs a little, but he doesn't fight back, sitting and half taking off his shirt, revealing the blood-soaked medical patch. His entire right side is discoloured and covered in a coat of blood, and Leon feels irritated enough that he may well punch the civilian. Calming himself with a long intake of breath, the rookie kneels in front of Mason and gently peels off the utterly ruined, formerly white patch.

     Much to his relief, the stitches remain intact, unlike earlier, and there is actually very little of what looks to be Mason's own blood. And, given what Mason said about the Tyrant being damn near invincible, all Leon can chalk this bewildering amount of blood up to is Mason having run into more than his fair share of zombies. Gently cleaning away the blood with the antiseptic spray and antibacterial wipes, Leon quietly admires how Mason doesn't flinch the entire time.

     "Doesn't this hurt?"

     "Not really." Mason shifts slightly, his tattered and bloodstained scrap of a shirt falling to the floor beside Leon, torso stretching as he pulls out the bottom drawer of the desk and pulls out a dark t-shirt. "You get a whole new definition of pain when you've been through shit."