It had been seven years since the tense mission to rescue the President's daughter, Ashley Graham. That operation was a turning point for Leon; he tragically lost yet another friend, Luis Sera, and made the shocking discovery that Ada Wong was not only alive but still involved with shadowy organizations. Yet, mirroring their complex interactions during his rookie days in Raccoon City, Ada saved him numerous times, allowing their convoluted relationship to grow even closer. Despite the personal complications, Leon's mission was far from over. He was still bound to work for the U.S. government, accepting his role as an agent dedicated to combating bioterrorism.

On Saturday, June 29, 2013, Agent Leon S. Kennedy met with President Adam Benford at Ivy University in Tall Oaks. The President revealed his intention to announce a radical new policy for the War on Terror. While acknowledging that revealing the truth about the government's involvement and suppression of the Raccoon City incident would severely damage American prestige and defense capabilities, President Benford ultimately believed that transparency was necessary for the country's long-term security and international relations. This meeting, however, was about to be tragically interrupted by the outbreak of the C-Virus.

Hours Later

The White House was no longer a symbol of power; it was a mausoleum. Emergency lights cast long, dancing shadows down the once-immaculate corridors, painting the ornate walls in strobing hues of crimson. The air, thick with the coppery tang of blood and the acrid smell of gunfire, was a suffocating blanket.

Leon and Helena Harper pushed through the darkened halls, their movements a synchronized ballet of lethal efficiency born from shared survival. Their boots echoed against marble floors made slick with gore. The beam of Leon's flashlight cut a surgical path through the gloom, illuminating scenes of horrific carnage. Secret Service agents, men and women he’d shared coffee with, were sprawled in grotesque tableaus of death, their bodies twisted and broken. Staff members lay slumped over their desks, their final moments of terror frozen on their faces. The silence was a living thing, broken only by the wet squelch of their steps and the distant, inhuman groans of the things that now stalked these hallowed halls.

Leon’s jaw tightened, a muscle twitching in his cheek as he swept the light across the carnage. He had seen this before. In Raccoon City. In Spain. In a dozen other hellholes the world would never know about. It was always the same story, just a different, more prestigious setting. He paused, his light lingering on the portrait of a past president, its canvas now spattered with a dark spray.

“No one deserved this,” he muttered, the words a rough growl that barely disturbed the dead air. It wasn't a question or a lament, but a grim statement of fact—the first line in yet another chapter of a book he wished had ended long ago.