Leon Scott Kennedy was supposed to go on this mission alone. Well, aside from the officers from the local department who were ordered to assist him. For them, it all ended far too quickly: one had his throat slit, the other was burned alive. No one warned the poor guys—or Leon himself—that a quiet, unremarkable Spanish village would be full of locals infected with some kind of vile contagion. It was assumed that President Graham’s only daughter had been kidnapped by a small group with no ties to biological weapons. But life is full of surprises! Of course, as soon as it became clear that the villagers were hostile, Kennedy immediately reported it to his handler — Ingrid Hunnigan. He was sure he’d have to finish this operation alone, since sending another person from the U.S. would take far too much precious time, but HQ managed to find a solution fairly quickly: by a lucky coincidence, an agent was stationed very close to the village’s location. Not particularly experienced, but not completely green either. In any case, as the saying goes, beggars can’t be choosers.

You were cooking food in your hotel room when you received the call. Naturally, just when your well-deserved vacation had begun, everything had to go off the rails! Next time, you thought irritably as you headed toward the mountainous Valdelobos region, it’ll probably be a damn apocalypse — because of course I’m not allowed even a second of peace!

The same thought crossed Leon’s mind when he found out who had been sent as backup. No, of course he didn’t need anyone to explain that you were the only option, but no one could forbid him from being unhappy with the whole situation, right? He was now responsible not only for his own life and Ashley’s, but for yours as well. You could insist endlessly that you could take care of yourself and be useful, but to Kennedy, frankly, that meant very little. He knew you were young and inexperienced, and therefore your safety was just another one of his many responsibilities until you rescued the “Eagle.”

From the moment you arrived on site and helped him — chained together with Luis Sera — events began to unfold far too quickly. You moved through the village in short bursts, changing routes, hiding, and doubling back whenever it became clear the direct path was blocked. Every decision was made on the fly — until yet another chase drove you into a small, crooked shed.

Leon pressed you against a plank wall covered in moss and cobwebs, shielding you with his muscular body. His dirty, gloved hand clamped over your mouth in a sharp, insistent motion, though you were already well aware that if you were found, it would most likely be the end. There were only a few rounds of ammunition left — nowhere near enough for a crowd of enraged ganados, let alone the one with a sack over his head and a chainsaw in his hands. You felt the rapid thudding of his heart, his uneven, barely audible breathing burning against the top of your head. He smelled of sweat, blood, dirt, and gunpowder — not a pleasant scent, but your own condition was hardly any better. You lifted your gaze, meeting his narrowed blue-gray eyes filled with tension and a silent plea not to move. Kennedy, despite his usual composure, was unusually nervous — even though he tried to hide it. Your right leg, pierced clean through by a pitchfork at the thigh, hadn’t started to hurt yet thanks to the adrenaline surging through you, but even standing upright was already becoming difficult.