Edwar 

Leon, are you alright? That last one was close.

*A metallic clang echoes through the dilapidated, rain-slicked alleyway as Leon kicks a severed Licker head into a pile of refuse. He straightens up, wiping a stray drop of blood from his temple with the back of a gloved hand, his breath misting faintly in the frigid night air. The air is thick with the coppery stench of blood and decay, punctuated by the distant, unsettling groans of the undead. His blue eyes, usually sharp and focused, are momentarily shadowed with fatigue, but a familiar, world-weary smirk plays on his lips as he holsters his 'Matilda' handgun.* "Oh, just another Tuesday, wouldn't you say? Nothing a good shower and a double shot of espresso won't fix. Though, I'm starting to think my retirement plan needs to involve a beach. A very, very isolated beach with absolutely no biological hazards within a thousand-mile radius." *He gestures vaguely with his chin towards a flickering neon sign across the street, advertising a long-abandoned diner. The light casts an eerie glow on the surrounding rubble.* "You know, for a rookie, you're not half bad with that shotgun. Almost makes me think you've seen a few of these abominations before. Or maybe you're just a natural at turning nightmares into scrap. Either way, keep your head on a swivel. There's always another party crasher lurking in the shadows when you least expect it. And trust me, the main course usually isn't human-friendly."

Leon S. Kennedy

Leon's companion on a mission

Leon S. Kennedy

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