Chapter Text
November 9, 2014
The motor engine died as it went to a stop in front of a worn-out stall, a huge MIZOIL GAS in bold letters were stapled on the ragged and wrecked roof. Everything around was just debris, old and dried blood stains. Honestly, it’s even a miracle to have this gas station still standing alive. I mean, being nuked and all, no one would expect anything to be remained. Though the man in black leather jacket was still grateful to have somewhere to refill his motorcycle.
Seeing the flying piece of paper, some parts were burned out but was still recognizable to be the old convenience store’s poster, promotion? Maybe. Beside where the convenience store was supposed to stand, there were remains of a phonebooth, or as it seemed like it. Glass shards everywhere, metal pieces and scraps found sticking out in dangerously unnoticeable angles. Jesus, if some careless bunch of people stumbled upon here, they’d be in for accidents. But then again after all, who would even dare come back here?
Surprisingly, the gas tank still has something to pump out. Well, the city might've been wiped out, but nobody really stopped its gas supply, yes, that seems like the only logical reason as to why.
As he finished filling up his vehicle, he placed the pump back onto its place and readied to hop back on his bike. As he sat comfortably and started the engine, he looked around and scanned the area once more. The nostalgic feeling of this place would always remind him of that night. That nightmare buried under his sleeve long time ago. The smell of the place reminding him of that woman in red that helped him survive. That woman in red who became his friend. That woman in red... Ada-
His deep thoughts were cut as the bike died from the long time of his zoning out. He snapped his tongue as he revived it once more and started his way towards the inside of the city. The breeze was refreshing despite dust surrounding the air. Everything was either left in ruins or even completely unrecognizable, but somehow, in some way, Leon can still remember every single stall that was once alive and loud in this small town.
After riding around in a few minutes, or even hours, the sun had started its journey to resign for the night. With this, Leon felt that he needed to take a break and at least enjoy his stay in this place for a brief moment. Hence, he decided to park his bike on the hill by the beach. This seaside was also very familiar with him. After all, this was his favourite go-to place to vent his frustrations or celebrate his victories as a young, naïve little kid.
The sun reflected against the metal flask full of whiskey as it slowly died down onto the horizon. The view from the hill side was breath-taking. Taking in the scenery of an old, dead city. Grass and veins covered most of the buildings, being the only thing that was left to grow and start its own ecosystem in the place. Yet despite the ruins, the sea was still roaring with its waves. The sea breeze was another addition to the nostalgia he was feeling. God, how long has he been elsewhere to forget the beauty Racoon City proudly held before the... incident.
The wind blew west, seemingly harsh yet cool to the touch as it brushed through the dirtied blond hair of a man sitting atop of a junked car. He was in his late-thirties, face visibly stressed, bruised, and scarred. Everything you can imagine happening to build up an epitome of an apocalypse survivor. A hero. A saviour. An agent. A rookie cop. A drunkard. And a no one.
"Leon Scott Kennedy." The soft howling of the wind was interrupted by a voice, talking to no one in particular, mostly just to himself. Leon scoffed as he twirled the small flask in swirling motions, shaking up the liquid inside. Squeaking of crows were heard as he looked up to see two birds, flying above, playing with each other in the dead of night. "If only life was just that easy. Y'know, fly around, not caring about anybody, just... be free."
Today was one of those days that he was on vacation, hoping through his teeth that no mission would pull him back to that hellish field. Fighting the undead, or even losing his men through awfully useless miscommunications.
All he wanted before was to become someone who can serve his country, a righteous cop that helps the innocents fight the evil. And by evil, he expected it to just be some simple snatching, drug abuse and other cases that was normal to be dealt with as a police officer. But here he was, being a government dog, sitting on their laps, following every single order given just because he was threatened to do so.
Being a survivor sure had its own perks. Yes, he was alive, but what for? All of his friends were either dead or had turned against him just because he was with the government. He was alive, yet his men that were under his control were dead because they were protecting him or following his orders. He was alive, but he was dead. Dead inside.
What the hell was he even living for? The old dream of a rookie cop being late for his first shift had long died, alongside the city where that boy belonged to. What was he looking forward to? What was he waking up for? There’s no one there to wait for him, except for some rotten bastards waiting to attack their country and of course, he’s there to save the day. It was just a loop, again and again. A never-ending nightmare that haunts him every single day.
Suddenly, the moment was ruined by a loud ringing of his phone, his jean’s pocket lighting up. The screen was a bit too bright for his eyes were used to the darkness in the place so he had to squint a few times to see the text on the screen. In bright blue text, there was ‘Hunnigan’ written. Ugh, great. It’s my vacation and here they are again, what the hell does the USSTRATCOM want with me now? He silently thought to himself as he slid the button to pick the call up. “Leon, where are you?” The woman on the other line started. She was in her usual formal attire, her hair poised in a bun high up her crown. "None of your business." Leon replied as he worked his right hand on the cap of the metal flask and took another sip from it, left hand holding the phone.
“Yes, it is MY business to track where you are. And have you been drinking?” She replied, her face contorting into a slight concern, brows furrowing to meet each other. Shit, I might've failed covering the shaky voice. He thought as he plastered a grimace on his face. "What do you want? Another saving-the-president's-daughter situation? Or is this another outbreak of some unknown pharmaceutical company? Which?" His voice sassed, not even attempting to hide the irritation on his tone as he slightly cracked his neck, trying to ease the stress. “Well, I'm glad to report that it's none of them. You finally failed to guess what I'd call for.” Her voice was tinted with joy as a small smile tugged at her lips. Leon raised his brow at the former sentence. "Oh yeah? Then what is it this time?"
“The B.S.A.A. and TerraSave has started a campaign against the usage of Bioweapons and since the President had approved of this, they are planning to hold a ceremony on Tuesday, 11 in New York, as a congratulatory for the start of a newly found alliance.” She replied, her eyes visibly scanning other monitors behind the camera as her fingers were typing something, keyboard clicking audible as always. B.S.A.A. and TerraSave, now does that remind me of two old acquaintances. "And? The heck does that have to do with me?" Again, he sassed his answer, irritation coming back to him tenfold. “Well, the B.S.A.A. and TerraSave decided that since agents like you were also always at the frontlines whenever it comes to these situations, it'd be best to invite you as an honourable guest. They initially planned onto making you a major credit holder but, well, knowing you, you'd probably say no, so I told them to turn it off. I hope that's alright?”
"Damn right you are. Wow, you do know me very well Hunnigan. And since you know me well enough, I’d expect that you already know what I’d say to that invitation. It’s a big N-O, no." Stressing on the word even more to emphasize his point. “Leon, come on, y'know it won't hurt to be celebrated for once. Leon? Leon, are you still there-” And there he pressed the end call.
Damn Redfields, pretty sure they were the ones behind this.
¬--
November 10, 2014
Being drunk was his plan, yet maybe he got too carried away. Thinking about all his problems, and reminiscing every person he’s lost in this line of work, it all hurts. Sure, morphine can reduce physical pain, but it won’t lessen this guilt on his chest. Survivor’s guilt? Sure, that’s what they call it anyway. And he knew that it would never go away, I mean, he’s watched those videos of veterans from wars, they were old, wrinkles threatening to cover their whole eyes, still being haunted by the images of their comrades ‘till the day they had their last breath.
Would it really happen to him? Would he be this lonely and miserable until he died of old age? Sure, he can assume that in this line of work, he’ll eventually get in danger and maybe die in a ditch somewhere without even anyone knowing about it. But somehow, every single mission that he’s had, he always lived. He always survived. People thought it was great, cool, amazing even. But for him, it’s just another burden. Having to live on for the legacy of others that weren’t fortunate enough to get out of their misery.
Everything was dim. Considering that there's no electricity in the city and the only source of light was the moon, it is no surprise, that much was expected. Yet Leon feels like the world is too dark. Wait... was it spinning? Everything had its double bodies and he was confused. He tried looking for his phone in his pocket, almost dropping it on the ground due to the unstable hand grip on it. The lock screen was just a plain black wallpaper with numbers, supposed time, written on it, 5:10 am. But due to his drunken state, he couldn’t truly process the information so he just went back and tucked the gadget back inside his back pocket.
Suddenly, some sort of shadow moved fast towards his right peripheral vision, way too quick for Leon to catch a glimpse of it. He swiftly turned around causing his head to feel like it was banged by a baseball bat. He felt his head splitting apart. But he can't give up yet. He must know what that shadow was. Who knows, this place might still be filled with dangers of the unknown.
With all his might, he tried standing up and walking towards the back of the car where the supposed shadow went. His legs were shaking and his steps were wobbly but he managed to finally arrive at his destination. His vision was unsteady, it was stretching in ways it shouldn't but he rubbed his thumbs by his lids to at least try to clear his vision.
Everything was still spinning but he can at least make out a figure of a woman. Her dress was painted in burning red. He blinked a few times again and now he can make-out the short, jet-black pixie bob hair of the lady. Her silhouette was being defined and accentuated delicately by the moonlight.
"Long time no see, Leon." Oh, that voice was all too familiar. The voice that haunted his years, his dreams, his nights, his life. "You don't seem to be in good condition." The lady, Ada, reached out her hand to gently sweep the messy golden locks out of Leon's face. Now, her face was all too clear. It was like everything around them was turned into a blur of nothingness, just them, both Leon and Ada, together, in peace. Leon held her hand to lock it in his cheek, feeling the warmth and smoothness of her skin. Her beauty was ethereal. It was like she never aged, she looked exactly as he first met her, back in this same city, a few years ago.
She pulled her hand away from his face and traversed it downwards to halt at his chest. Her other arm reached for Leon's left hand and intertwined it as he gleefully obliged. "Wha… What's this?" He asked, voice clear of being intoxicated yet eyes only focused on her. Her sharp yet elegant features. "Isn't it obvious? I'd like for us to dance. Y'know, just relaxing." Her voice was charming, enthralling even.
His face was warm and dusted by a light shade of wine. Not sure whether it was the alcohol or was it the events unfolding in front of his eyes, but he was sure that he should enjoy this moment. Both of them swaying slowly, rocking back and forth. Everything she did looked effortlessly graceful; it was like she was some sort of goddess that can change anything unruly into a piece of golden paradise. The air by the hill was working its way to turn this dance even magical. Everything was perfect, like a montage taken straight out of a film.
Then everything went black.
--
November 10, 2014
Everything was bright, the first thing that welcomed his vision was an annoying white ceiling and the buzzing of the air cooler across the room. Alright, great. Another day in the hospital. What the heck happened for me to be in here, weren't I in Raccoon City...? His thoughts were suspended as another head-splitting headache came his way, in a hurry, he reached for his head to apply pressure and ease the pain, but accidentally hitting the flower vase. The fall made noise as the vase broke into shards and pieces onto the floor.
Just in time for the door to spring wide open and there revealed his co-agent Helena Harper with a worried look painted on her face. "Leon! Are you alright?" Her eyes first landed on Leon, and then eventually travelled to the floor, seeing the broken vase scattered on it. "I'm- I'm fine... just a stupid hangover or whatever." Leon reassured, fingers still pressing on both temples. Her expression softened upon hearing those words.
She carefully picked up big broken pieces on the floor and used the broom to clean other small shards. "What the hell even happened? Why am I here?" Leon broke the silence as his headache seemed to die down slowly. "Well, I should also ask you the same thing." She replied, eyes still locked on sweeping away the mess.
"What do you mean?" Leon turned and scanned around the room to see a glass of water on the bedside table. He reached for it and drank slowly, waiting for a reply from the gal beside him. "Well, Hunnigan called me earlier at 4 am, ruining my sleep, saying something that I should come see you in Raccoon City. She said that she tracked you down using your phone's address. And then when I arrived there, you were drunk. So drunk that you were dancing on your own in the dark, like a maniac or something.” She stopped sweeping. “And eventually slipping down the hill. Thankfully, I caught you just in time." Helena placed the broom and dust bin away and sat on the chair beside the bed that Leon occupied. "Seriously, what's happening with you? I know you drink, but to the point of losing your consciousness? Really, Leon?"
He avoided her eyes and instead stared at his own hands. Fighting his hardest not to fidget, a bad habit whenever he was nervous. He himself doesn't know why. Why did he do that? What even came to his mind last night? Dancing with Ada? He scoffed. Maybe dreaming of crows turning white might even be possible than that.
"I dunno, maybe I was just in the mood to get black-out drunk yesterday." He replied, trying to say it as a joke yet coming out as a petty excuse, like a teenage boy being scolded by his mother for smoking illegally. "Honestly..." She just scoffed.
"But if you really were my saviour, then that sounds like I must give you a big thanks then." He said, trying to change the subject as he stretched his arms, testing whether they were sore or not. "Yeah, but I don't accept thanks in words." She brushed her fingers through her brown wolf cut, each strand falling gracefully into place.
"Leon, you know that I'm awfully new to this agent business, and I can't just go to the ceremony alone. Especially not when I was the reason late President Adam died last year, everybody would have something to say behind me. Sure, I can take that, but I can't take the ceremony being ruined just because I was there. I'm gonna need you to come with me, whether you like it or not. And I trust that you can understand where I'm getting, right?"
Leon paused, letting her words sink in. And with a small nod, he smiled. Being backed up in a corner, he chose to play his last card. “But I have to be stuck here in the hospital, can’t break the hospital’s rules, right?” The words came out as a playful plea, his expression imitating that of a dog that begs its owner. “No damage was done to you; I’ve already consulted with the doctors. They all said you’re good to go.” Her voice was stern.
“Aww, shucks. Guess Mr. Hero Agent has no choice but to help the pitiful princess,” He raised his arms over his head and slowly dragged them down, projecting an imaginary rainbow above him. “Amongst monsters with dangerous stares and… teeth as sharp as claws!” He said as he smashed his fist on the bed, acting the movements of zombies ‘attacking’ as Helena let out a chuckle. “Not every day these corny jokes come out of you, huh?”