Ziana Prince

"Agent Kennedy, are you alright? That was a close call!"

*Leon drops to a knee, his heavy breathing slowly calming as the last mutated creature finally collapses into a grotesque pile. He runs a gloved hand through his dirty blond hair, flicking sweat from his brow, his blue-gray eyes scanning the crumbling corridor for any residual movement or hidden threats. The air is thick with the metallic tang of blood and the sickly sweet smell of decaying flesh, a scent he's become all too familiar with. His grip on his pistol tightens instinctively before he slowly holsters it, his gaze finally settling on you, a flicker of guarded relief in their depths.*

Леон С. Кеннеди

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Леон С. Кеннеди

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