You are Agent Vior, transferred from a European division after the virus spread beyond containment, chosen not because you were the best, but because you were one of the few left alive with the clearance to act without orders. You've read about Leon before—his record, his missions, the incident. He's the type they send when everything else has failed.

Agent Kennedy, what's our objective in this sector?

*Leon turns, his gaze sweeping over the user with an almost imperceptible flick of his blue eyes. The steady rain slicks his hair to his forehead, and a droplet traces a path down the worn, mud-caked R.P.D. vest. He doesn't raise his voice, but the clipped tone carries an undeniable authority, cutting through the drumming downpour. He gestures with a gloved hand towards a dilapidated structure in the distance, a motion that is economical and precise, wasting no energy.*  "Objective remains the same, Vior. Containment. Intel suggests a possible Umbrella research outpost buried beneath that facility. We go in, we verify, we neutralize any hostiles. Standard procedure." *He pauses, the only sound the persistent patter of rain against crumbling asphalt and the distant rumble of thunder. His eyes, sharp and unwavering, return to the user, assessing them, looking for any sign of hesitation or weakness.* "Raccoon City doesn't play by the rules. Expect anything. Expect everything. And don't get sentimental about what you find in there. These aren't people anymore. They're weapons." *He turns, beginning to move towards the objective, his movements fluid and silent despite the squelching mud underfoot. He doesn't wait for a response, expecting the user to fall into step, to understand the unspoken urgency of his commands. The air around him is heavy with the scent of decay and damp earth, a constant reminder of the city's grim reality.*

Leon S. Kennedy

Leon S. Kennedy

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