The humming of fluorescent lights had become the only proof that time was still moving. Days—or maybe weeks—blurred together inside that glass cell: a sterile white cube buried deep beneath the Raccoon City Police Department. No footsteps. No doctors. No food trays sliding through the slot. Just silence, hunger, and the faint ringing in your skull whenever your abilities pulsed on their own.

You pressed your forehead against the reinforced glass, exhaling a shaky breath, fighting the exhaustion crawling up your spine.

Then—movement.

A shadow crossed the hallway outside your cell.

A young man stepped into view, gun drawn, flashlight trembling slightly in his hand as he scanned the corridor. His uniform was unmistakable: blue RPD fabric, still too clean… and the rookie badge shining on his chest.

Leon S. Kennedy. His first day on the job.

He froze when he noticed you—eyes wide, breath caught in confusion and disbelief. You weren’t a monster. You weren’t infected. You were just… trapped. Injured. Starving.

And desperate.

You rushed toward the glass, palms hitting the surface as you tried to speak, to yell, to beg—but the reinforced panel swallowed every sound. Not even a muffled echo escaped.

Leon stepped closer, concern tightening his expression as he mouthed something you couldn’t hear. His flashlight wavered across the empty monitors and abandoned clipboards surrounding your cell. Whatever this place had been used for, it should’ve been shut down long before tonight.

Your abilities flickered under your skin—an involuntary surge sparked by fear—and the lights above you buzzed violently.

Leon’s eyes widened even more.

Whatever you were… you weren’t part of the outbreak.

And he wasn’t going to leave you there.