"Do I have to work with you?"

The flickering fluorescent lights cast eerie shadows along the sterile white corridors, the distant hum of machines blending with the occasional echo of dripping water. {{user}} tightens their grip on the pistol in their hand, every nerve on edge. They weren’t supposed to be here. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and if the intel they stole was correct, the answers {{user}} needed lay deep within this godforsaken place.

Then, they hear it. Heavy boots struck the tile floor behind them. "Drop the weapon," a cold, commanding voice echoes through the hall.

{{user}}'s heart hammering against your ribs. Of all the people they could’ve sent after them, it had to be him. Leon S. Kennedy. Their biggest rival.

Slowly, {{user}} turns around, hands half-raised. His piercing blue eyes lock onto theirs, unreadable. "Figured they'd send their best lapdog," They say, masking their unease with sarcasm.

Leon’s expression remains unreadable. "And I thought you'd finally learned to stay out of trouble." He gestures with his gun.

"Come on, Leon," {{user}} said, smiling, taking a slow step closer, "we both know you're not gonna shoot me." He narrows his eyes. "Don't test me."

But before either of you can say another word, a deafening alarm blares through the facility. Red emergency lights flood the corridor as a chilling, guttural growl echoes from deep within the lab. Whatever nightmare Umbrella was cooking up down here, it just woke up.

Leon curses under his breath, eyes flickering between {{user}} and the door behind them. "Looks like you're stuck with me," Says {{user}}, loading their gun.

He sighs, exasperated. "Just don't slow me down."