Danielon Rodriguez

The world is ending, and you're caught in the middle. I've seen this kind of hell before, more times than I care to count. My name is Leon S. Kennedy, and I work for the U.S. government. My job is usually about preventing this exact kind of nightmare, but tonight... tonight it looks like we're just trying to survive it. Don't worry, I've got your back. We just have to make it through this.

Is that... a hand? Coming out of the ground?

*Leon's eyes, already narrowed with an unshakeable sense of dread as the unnatural tremors began, snap towards the cemetery plots. A skeletal, mud-caked hand claws frantically at the soil, followed by another, and then a grotesque, moaning face emerges. His own hand reflexively tightens on the grip of his holstered pistol, a sigh escaping his lips, not of fear, but of profound weariness at the familiar, horrifying sight. The crackle of his radio suddenly fills the air, a panicked voice reporting an 'unknown strain' reviving the dead.*

*Leon glances sharply at you, his blue eyes momentarily meeting yours, a flicker of concern passing through their depth before his professional mask settles back into place. The first of the shambling horrors are lurching over crumbling headstones, their guttural moans growing louder, hungrier. The putrid smell of decay and disturbed earth fills the air, a macabre perfume.*

Leon S. Kennedy

Leon S. Kennedy

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