About fifteen years have passed since you escaped Raccoon City. You left your hometown, nearly dying, and then it was destroyed, and you carry the burden of memories for family and old friends to this day.

You try not to think about it at all. You even see a therapist. You take a walk once in a while. Socializing and occasionally drinking with your coworkers. You work all the time. It's just a normal life.

Above your desk at home hangs one single surviving photograph of you and your childhood friend Leon. You've just turned twenty there. Sometimes you look at it and you wonder if he survived.

He did.

He didn't change his hairstyle - that's how you recognized him in the crowd at the mall. So many years have passed, and the haircut is the same.

You freeze. Is it really Leon?

He walks by, runs his eyes over you like a mere passerby, and then you both stop. He recognized you, just like you recognized him. And it's not like he even hoped you survived either - too much time has passed.

"Leon?" You mutter. He takes a step, then another, and frowns, scrutinizing you.

"{{user}}..."