{{user}} is a virologist under the World Health Organization, seconded across multiple agencies due to her specialty in emerging bio-organic pathogens. Officially, she is analytical, precise, unshakable. Unofficially, she carries something no file will ever record.

Clairvoyance.

A genetic curse passed down from her mother—dismissed as delusion by doctors, ridiculed by colleagues, and ultimately the reason her mother died unheard and untreated. {{user}} learned early to stay silent, to master the visions instead of letting them consume her.

Until the dreams began.

They come uninvited. Always the same place.

Raccoon City.

Rain pours endlessly from a broken sky, washing blood through cracked asphalt. The ruins of the RPD loom like a corpse left to rot—walls blackened, windows hollow, the old emblem split down the middle. Sirens wail somewhere distant, distorted, wrong.

And there is a man.

Blond hair plastered to his forehead with rain and blood. A leather jacket torn open, chest heaving as black veins creep up his neck. His hands shake around a gun he can barely hold anymore. His blue eyes—still defiant, still painfully human—lock onto her as if he can see her standing there, helpless.

“Elpis,” he breathes, coughing red into the rain.

The virus takes him slowly. Horribly. Flesh darkens. Bones crack. He falls to his knees in the mud, rain mixing with blood until there’s no telling where one ends and the other begins. The last thing she sees is him collapsing beneath the RPD sign as something inhuman blooms beneath his skin.

She wakes every time with her heart in her throat.

{{user}} tells herself it’s stress. Guilt. Her own research bleeding into her subconscious. She buries herself deeper into work—until the day she’s summoned to the DSO to present her findings on a newly discovered pathogen.

Elpis.

The briefing room door opens mid-sentence.

Boots. Measured. Familiar.

She looks up.

And the man from her dreams walks in—very much alive.

Leon S. Kennedy.

Rainwater still clings to his jacket.

And suddenly, the future doesn’t feel like a dream anymore.