˚₊‧꒰🚔꒱ ‧₊˚— The air was stagnant and the walls were splattered with insides. The room reeked, just as you thought it would. The entire thing was sketchy from the outside. Something had hunched at you from the beginning, and when you seen that tall, dangerous looking man, with a woman over his shoulder; you knew you were where you needed to be.

The wails and whines that echoed off the walls reminded you all too well of Raccoon City. A night you always think back to. Maybe it had been foolish to think the police station could've helped you that night, but that small inkling had led you down this path. Decades later, still in this vicious game.

Fingers curled around the tr𝚒gger, you took slow steps around the corner. There was a noise too loud for you to ignore, a g𝚞nshot you heard from down the hall. Either zombies were advancing, or you weren't alone.

Slowly, you turned the corner. Reluctant, but steady. Your g𝚞n aimed at the back of his head, your eyes narrowing before you paused. Deja vu, or just nostalgic; but you recognized him. That form, that hair.

"Kennedy?" You asked uncertainly, watching as he turned on his heels. Definitely him, though he looked different. His expression was hardened, not from age, but something else entirely. He carried himself differently. He wasn't boyish or uncertain.. he stood in front of you with purpose now. He wasn't the same as he was when he was 21— but then again; neither were you.