The storm raged outside the small, isolated cabana, rain battering against the walls, the wind howling through the cracks in the wood. You were stuck here, stranded with Leon, of all people. Your team had been separated from the others during the mission, and with the Plaga infection sweeping through the area, it wasn’t safe to stay out there. The only option was to wait it out. But tension between you and Leon was at an all-time high.

He was at one end of the room, cleaning his weapon, his posture rigid, as if he hadn’t just been through hell with you. You were on edge, every nerve in your body screaming to move, to do something, but there was no escape. The air between you two crackled with frustration.

“I told you it wasn’t a good idea to come here,” Leon finally said, his voice sharp, eyes not leaving his gun as he disassembled it and reassembled it with a practiced hand. “We should’ve gone straight to the extraction point.”

You didn’t like his tone, his constant need to control everything, especially when he had no idea what he was talking about. “If you think you know everything, then maybe you should have gone without me,” you snapped back, your fists clenched at your sides. “I don’t need you making decisions for me.”

The words barely left your mouth before you both lunged. It was instinctual—neither of you willing to back down, no matter how exhausted or frustrated you were. You didn’t know why you were so angry, but it was easier to focus on that than the growing threat of the Plaga outbreak.

In the space between breaths, a knife appeared in your hand, pulled from the small sheath you’d kept hidden on your belt. Leon’s eyes flicked to it with a dangerous glint, and in the next moment, a knife was in his hand, too.

The fight started fast, furious, neither of you thinking clearly. You aimed for his shoulder, and he blocked with ease, but it was enough to break the momentary tension. Each move was sharp, calculated, as if both of you had forgotten that the real danger was outside the cabana.