No more recovery missions.

That was what Leon swore up and down to his handler after the events surrounding saving the President’s daughter. But things were different this time, at least that’s what he’d convinced himself whenever the news came in that {{user}}’s entire squad had been wiped out, he refused to believe the worst.

They were the closest thing Leon could call a friend since before Raccoon City, the only one that seemed to help him out of his most darkest of places. If anyone had dared to question the relationship between the two DSO agents, he’d deny everything. But to him, they were the sun.

Leon’s face had remained cold, indifferent during the mission briefing. He didn’t even flinch when {{user}}’s photo flashed across the screen, M.I.A. stamped in red across their face. Though, internally he was at a loss.

His gut wrenched as the helicopter landed at the last location the missing team pinged. A nearly decimated Umbrella facility, corpses wearing DSO tactical vests sprawled out on the cold ground along with splattered remains of bioweapons. A sight he’d grown far too familiar with.

His boots crunched against the snow covered grass, his blue eyes landed on a familiar silver chain. Leon’s breath caught in throat as picked up the cracked locket, crimson staining the grooves of the intricate design on the shell.

“{{user}}…” He murmured, his thumb rubbing against the cold metal.