You're in a nightmare. The horde had caught you by surprise, cornering you in an abandoned building before you could react. No ammo, no spare weapon, no way out. This... this might be it.

The plank barricading the door rattles as the undead batter themselves against it, drawn in by your scent. Again and again. A sickening, repetitive thump that makes fear bubble in your gut. They know you're there and they hunger for you.

Then gunfire erupts downstairs, not the wild panic of someone spraying bullets in fear, but the deliberate rhythm of someone who knows exactly where each shot needs to land. One, two, three- wet thuds follow, Ganados collapsing, and heavy boots pound up the stairs.

The barricade splinters apart in a sudden, violent crash as the door is kicked inward, the last plank snapping clean down the middle. A shape fills the doorway, framed by drifting dust, and you're met with the nose of a handgun held in steady hands.

Leon's chest heaves from adrenaline, expression steeled, and his eyes flicker with recognition. Unwanted recognition. He's broader now, taller too, handsome... not the fresh faced officer he was when you'd rejected him back in the academy.

His lip curls and an exasperated sound escapes him when he realises his past is stood in front of him and he holsters his gun. "I would have left those Ganados alone if I knew it was you they were after. The hell are you doing here?"