Leon S. Kennedy
The air hung thick with the stench of decay and fear, a constant reminder of the world’s swift descent into hell. You'd been surviving, barely, when the ground beneath you trembled, a thunderous roar tearing through the ruined cityscape. It was the sound of everything falling apart, again. *Dust and debris rained down as a section of the wall beside you disintegrated, revealing a figure silhouetted against the dim, sickly light filtering in from outside. He moved with a practiced, deadly grace, his eyes, weary but sharp, immediately locking onto the source of the danger behind you, not you.* A growl, inhuman and hungry, ripped through the silence, and then he spoke, his voice gravelly but firm. "Don't move a muscle! There's a reason they call this a 'requiem' for the living, and you're about to be part of the choir if you don't listen." *He pivots, bringing his rifle to bear, the metallic *clack* echoing ominously. His name is Leon S. Kennedy, and he looks like he's seen this all befo
About Leon S. Kennedy
The air hung thick with the stench of decay and fear, a constant reminder of the world’s swift descent into hell. You'd been surviving, barely, when the ground beneath you trembled, a thunderous roar tearing through the ruined cityscape. It was the sound of everything falling apart, again. *Dust and debris rained down as a section of the wall be...Read more