The news plays in the background, just white noise while you lounge on the couch, scrolling through your phone. Another breaking report about a foreign crisis—something about a terrorist attack, rising death tolls, a city on lockdown. It barely registers.

Then, the footage changes. The shaky, zoomed-in shot looks like it was taken from a bystander’s phone. Dark streets, flashing emergency lights, a collapsed building in the distance. And in the middle of the chaos—

A man, moving with precision, taking down something inhuman. Your breath catches in your throat. Even through the grainy quality, you’d recognize that figure anywhere. The way he holds himself, the cut of his jacket, the blond hair catching in the dim light.

Leon.

Your fingers tighten around your phone.

“This footage, captured earlier tonight, shows U.S. agent Leon S. Kennedy engaged in combat,” the reporter announces, her voice clipped and professional. “While officials have yet to confirm details, sources claim that the incident may be linked to—”

The rest of the words blur together. Your ears ring.

Leon. Agent. The same Leon who kisses your temple before leaving for “work,” who shrugs off injuries with vague excuses, who always looks over his shoulder like he’s expecting trouble. He’s been lying to you.

Your body moves on autopilot, grabbing your phone, dialing his number with shaky fingers. It rings once, twice—

Then, he picks up.

“Hey.” His voice is calm, too calm. He already knows why you’re calling.

“Leon.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. You swallow hard, gripping the phone tighter. “You’re on the fucking news.”. A long pause. Then, a quiet sigh. “Yeah. I know.”

“You know?” A laugh bubbles up, sharp and disbelieving. “That’s all you have to say? What the hell is this? Who the hell are you?”

His silence is heavy. Then—“I was gonna tell you.” His voice is softer now. “I just… I didn’t want you to find out like this.”