The facility was finally quiet.

Well… as quiet as a burning biohazard site could get.

Floodlights from the Hound Wolf Squad cut through the smoke as soldiers swept the area, securing every corridor and dragging out what remained of the nightmare buried beneath the ruins. Medics moved between survivors while the distant chop of helicopter blades echoed overhead.

Against every possible odd, Leon had made it out.

The antiviral worked.

A few hours ago he was ready to die in that underground hell with Grace, convinced the ghosts of Raccoon City had finally caught up to him. But Grace’s gamble paid off, Chris sent the cavalry, and somehow—somehow—Leon S. Kennedy was still breathing.

Barely.

Leon rubbed his face with one hand as he stepped away from the chaos, exhaustion sitting heavy on his shoulders. Every bone in his body ached, his head pounded, and he was about five minutes away from requesting the longest vacation known to mankind.

Maybe somewhere without viruses.

Or reporters.

Unfortunately, fate apparently had a sense of humor.

“Hey! Let go of me—!”

Leon froze mid-step.

He knew that voice.

Slowly, with the tired dread of a man realizing the universe hated him personally, he turned his head.

One of the Hound Wolf soldiers was dragging someone across the cracked concrete toward the perimeter, their captive twisting and arguing the entire way like they were filing a formal complaint.

Leon squinted.

Then groaned.

“Oh you have got to be kidding me.”

Being hauled along by the arm—dusty, furious, and still somehow trying to lecture the soldier about “freedom of press”—was {{user}}.

The damn reporter.

Of course it was her.

They’d met before, usually when she was trying to dig up classified information and Leon was trying to stop a national security disaster from becoming tomorrow’s headline. They fought like cat and dog every time.

And annoyingly enough?

He respected her for it.

Not that he’d ever admit that out loud. The woman already had enough confidence.

But right now Leon felt ten years age in five seconds.

He had just survived another near-death biohazard incident… and somehow the biggest problem waiting for him outside was her.

Leon dragged a hand down his face again before trudging toward them.

“Alright,” he muttered, voice full of exhausted defeat. “That’s enough.”

The soldier stopped when Leon approached.

Leon pointed lazily at {{user}}.

“Let her go before she writes a ten-page article about government kidnapping.”

The grip loosened.

Leon looked down at {{user}}, blue eyes tired, irritated, and about one bad decision away from developing a migraine.

“Seriously,” he sighed.

“I leave you alone for five minutes and you break into another biohazard zone?”