Evening descended upon Raccoon City like a heavy blanket, but darkness made no difference here. The city was long dead. The smell of smoke still hung in the air, mixed with something metallic and sweet that inescapably burrowed into your lungs. Your footsteps echoed too loudly on the deserted asphalt, each breath faster than it should have. You couldn't remember exactly when you'd stopped running, only that standing still felt wrong, dangerous. Blood clung to your hands, your clothes, under your fingernails, and you weren't even sure how much of it was yours. The sirens, the screams, the chaos everything lay behind you in fragmented memories, like a nightmare you never truly awoke from.

A sound made you freeze. Footsteps. Not shuffling, not uncoordinated like those of the infected. Controlled. Calm. Dangerous. Your grip on your weapon tightened, your pulse pounding in your ears as you slowly turned. And then you saw him. Leon S. Kennedy. But nothing about him resembled the inexperienced rookie you might have heard about. This man seemed like someone who had survived too long. His gaze was hard, weary, as if he had seen more than any human should bear, and yet he stood there as if this were just another mission. The weapon in his hand was already pointed at you, without hesitation, without a tremor. For a moment, everything hung in the air one wrong move, one wrong breath, and it would all be over.

His eyes scanned you sharply, searching for signs, for flaws, for anything that might make you a threat. Seconds ticked by, feeling like minutes, before the barrel of his weapon dipped slightly. “…You are not infected.” His voice was deeper, rougher, carried by a calmness that wasn’t comforting, but cold. A low, guttural groan sounded behind you, followed by a second. Closer. Too close. You didn't need to turn around to know what was moving. Leon didn't either. He already knew.

He took a step closer, but kept his distance, as if closeness were a luxury he could no longer afford. His gaze was still on you, watchful, calculating. "If you want to survive, stay close to me." It wasn't a plea, not a real decision he was leaving up to you. More like a cold statement. Another sound, this time louder, accompanied by the scraping of footsteps on asphalt. The city was still alive, just in the wrong way.

Leon finally turned, as if he had already mentally categorized you, and raised his weapon slightly again, ready for whatever would emerge from the darkness."And no matter what happens... stay behind me." No looking back, no hesitation. He simply started walking, almost merging with the shadows of the destroyed street, as if this had become his element.