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1998
The smell of decay and blood was all around him. It climbed inside of his nose and clung there, clawing into the skin.
Leon Kennedy had been prepared for a lot of things. He had been prepared for some hazing from his new coworkers. He had been prepared to be assigned the worst patrols and shifts, the rookie, the newbie until someone else was dubbed the newest man. He had even been prepared to have to prostrate himself until they gave him the tiniest crumb of respect despite his age.
He hadn’t been prepared for a city of the dead. There hadn’t been any predictions about a city full of corpses that got back up, bloodied and crumbling, left to the elements.
With a small sigh of frustration, he turned another corner, willing his hands to stop shaking as he scouted for another of the walking dead. Or one of the skinless monsters, skittering above his head. He wasn’t sure what those things were, but he would be glad to see the last of them – they were vicious and fast, and he only needed to screw up once. He needed luck to escape them every single time.
They only needed luck once.
The weather outside wasn’t helping matters, the air hanging dead and chilled, every sound echoing. There weren’t any normal noises, just the fragments of life falling apart. Cars exploding in the distance, fires dying down as the wind changed.
It was like the world had already ended and he was still just trying to figure that one out.
Leon slipped down the hall, Matilda in his hands, and tucked against a vending machine. He wanted a moment to think – needed it, really – but he couldn’t take more than a second or two at most. The world he knew was gone, changed, and it had been replaced by monsters and shrieking creatures and rotting flesh. There was a creature taller than him by a few feet that seemed to be stalking him on some unknown mission.
It had crushed the reporter’s head.
Heralded by the thumping footsteps, he knew roughly where it was when he heard them. Couldn’t tell, yet, if he was more grateful for the noise or the silence.
The heavy stomping coming towards him now, as if tracking him by some unknown method, didn’t help him make up his mind on the matter. Leon clenched his teeth together, tucking further back into the shadows, and held onto Matilda with white-knuckled hands. If it would just go past him, just walk past where he was tucked away, he could slip around it. He was faster on his turns than it was. It had strength and speed, but he was smaller and able to slip away into gaps it couldn’t follow him through.
The hallway shook.
Leon held his breath, waiting for the trench coat wearing monster to come walking past him. Please, he thought, offering up a silent prayer to whatever higher power might be listening. He wasn’t sure there was one, after all he’d seen in Raccoon City, so far, but he could offer his shredded faith and hope.
Please.
He didn’t even realize he’d closed his eyes. Not until the footsteps stopped and he felt the presence of the creature, taking up air in the room, space in the hall, making shadows across the floor. Leon looked up.
It looked back.
With a garbled curse, Leon darted past it’s reaching arm, sliding down the edge of the vending machine and nearly tripping as he slipped away. The waft of air told him that he’d only missed being grabbed by an inch or so, the closest of calls he’d had with that particular monster all night long. The rumbling and thudding began again as the monster chased after him once more.
His heart pounding in his chest, Leon turned and fired blindly, hearing the shots at least impact against the creature pursuing him. They didn’t stop it, they never stopped it, but it did sort of make him feel better.
The door at the end of the hall was closed.
Fuck.
He didn’t have time to open it, couldn’t tell if it was locked or not. With a groan, Leon turned and braced his back against the wall, lining up his next shot and staring into the creature’s eyes. He could do this. He could make the shot, make it hesitate, then slip away and find another path in the fucking labyrinth of a building he was trapped in. Braced, primed, ready, Leon swallowed as it came surging closer.
There was something in it’s temple.
He had knocked the stupid hat off of the creature’s head and there was something shining and exposed, sticking out of the pale skin at it’s temple. With only a second to adjust, Leon shifted and fired.
The ping of metal against metal confirmed the shot.
Silence fell.
Outside, he could hear the rain and the wind picking up again, as if nature was trying to make up for the sudden loss of other sounds. With a shaky breath, Leon stared at the creature, dropped to it’s knees on the ground, and waited for something to happen. Neither of them moved.
Leon hesitated, then tucked Matilda away, stepping closer to the creature. It shifted, hands clenching and unclenching, but it didn’t look up at him.
He took another step.
In the dim lighting, he could see the snapped end of the metal sticking out of the creature’s head. His shot had struck home – he’d destroyed what looked like a small antenna. “Hey,” Leon cleared his throat. The creature didn’t look at him, flexing it’s hands again and again. “Hi,” Leon licked his lips, staying out of arm’s reach, crouching down. Now it looked up, pale eyes wide and shocked. “Are you…Okay?”
A short nod followed a minute of silence.
“Did…” Leon heaved out a breath, blinked, and then sighed. “How badly did I just fuck you up?”
It looked at him, but he wasn’t sure it understood the question. Taking a chance, Leon moved closer, nearly shrieking when the creature wrapped a hand around his waist and tugged him in. There wasn’t anything other than that, however, no squeezing or violent movements. It just tapped the side of it’s head with one leather-gloved hand.
This close, Leon could see that the metal device was in it’s skull. His shot had partially dislodged it.
It was now crooked, still anchored in the bone.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Leon traced a careful hand around the device. “Do you want me to get it out?”
A nod.
Reaching into one of his pockets, Leon dragged out a small multitool. “I’ve got pliers,” he offered. “That’s…That’s about it. Stuff to make sure it heals, but I don’t think I’ve got any painkillers that would…Work…On you.”
Another nod.
“Okay,” Leon nodded back. The creature’s skin was chilled when he touched it, already healed from the burn of the bullet skidding across flesh. He pulled out the pliers, doing his best to get a steady grip on the chunk of metal. After some wiggling, he figured out that it needed to be unscrewed. Whoever had created the creature that had hunted him all night had screwed a metal bolt into it’s skull. He felt the metal grinding against bone, felt the way the creature’s hand trembled, but he wasn’t being squeezed to death. It didn’t attack him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Leon whispered, a prayer, a litany of apologies, a soothing murmur of sound.
He wasn’t sure who he was trying to soothe.
The creature dropped like a puppet with cut strings once Leon had the metal out, held in the pliers of his multitool like a prize. It shoved it’s face against Leon’s stomach, breathing slowly and deeply.
With how human it was shaped, he was pretty sure it had once been human.
“Hey, big guy,” Leon patted the top of it’s head. “I think we need to get going. Staying in one place isn’t exactly safe, here.”
Another nod.
With a shift and a push, it got off the ground, shaky on it’s feet. The hat Leon had shot off of it’s head was on the ground a few feet behind them, retrieved with an unsteady movement.
As Leon tucked everything away, the metal piece he’d removed going into his pocket, he watched as the creature righted itself and moved back to his side. “Are you coming with me?” he asked, looking up to meet those pale eyes.
When he got a nod in return, Leon sighed. “Alright,” he did his best to smile. “Come on,” he waved towards the door he’d been pressed against.
Without a sound, the creature pushed until it opened.
2022
The headquarters of the BSAA were a familiar place.
Leon took a deep breath, walking down the hall as he stuffed his keys into his pocket. His jeep, parked in the front lot, was emptier than usual. He both hated and loved the days he needed to show up to speak with the others – his usual company wasn’t able to be present, at his side, and he never liked that. They had gotten through so much together. Some of the information gained from him had helped Leon on his missions. He never felt alone when he knew the other was there.
Mr. X, formally an Umbrella Corporation Bioweapon, redirected to be on his side by the removal of the chip system that had connected him to the server sending out orders.
He did enjoy seeing his few friends, the ones he had made over the years and managed to keep.
Case in point—
“Leon!” Claire’s voice was a relief to hear. All smiles and laughter as she sped up a fraction and pulled him into a hug. “Oh, my God, it’s so good to see you!” she pulled back, grinning, and studied his face. “How’ve you been, how’d it all go?”
“It went well,” Leon smiled back. This was a part he did enjoy – even if he had to leave Mr. X elsewhere, he always liked seeing the people he knew.
They walked down the hallway together, chatting about his mission, about how she had been doing, about any updates they had for each other. They only had a handful of minutes for personal updates, it had to happen quickly. The meeting he was here for would begin as soon as he walked in the door. He watched as Claire used her hands to speak, laying out the details of something she hesitated to talk about, then slowed and stopped. “I should wait until the meeting is over to tell you the rest of that,” she grinned again. “Something important connected to it.”
“Alright,” Leon nodded. He followed her into the room when she held the door, grabbing a seat at the table.
Chris stood at the head of the table, speaking with Blake Langerman. Weird, Leon had time to think. Normally, Waylon was the one who sat next to him and took notes. There were a couple new faces, so maybe it had something to do with that?
A blond man sat on Chris’s right side, his eyes a bright orange color that made Leon shiver.
“Oh, Leon, there you are,” Chris spoke up, dragging his attention back. “Now we can get started. There are some things we found out, on our recent mission, that mean some interesting updates for all of us.” He seemed to hesitate, then turned to the man on his right. With a nod from him, Chris nodded back. “This is Albert Redfield. He has a Ph.D. in Virology, which means he can help us untangle the remaining problems left behind for us by the Umbrella Corporation and others like it.”
With a shuffle of paper, Chris sighed. “It does also mean that he can help us stop other organizations before they can ever get to the scale of Umbrella.”
Leon stared at the blond man, his mind racing.
There was only one Albert he had ever heard about that Chris knew. He was pretty sure that was him. Redfield as a name was different, but…
He glanced at their hands and was almost disappointed when he didn’t see a pair of rings.
“As for other matters,” Chris went on. “Waylon Park is on leave until further notice. He is excused from any meetings or missions. Do not seek him out to request his presence. Leave him alone.” He looked around the room, making eye contact with everyone. The other BSAA operatives all nodded and accepted it as a rule.
Leon felt his stomach churn. Now he knew something had gone wrong.
Since they had found him and brought him in, Waylon had been heavily involved in every aspect he could help with.
“The new arrivals are also to be left alone unless you are given permission to approach them. They’ve had enough happen to them as it is, they don’t need to be recruited into anything. If they offer, you can speak to them about a mission or you can ask for their opinion, but do not go after them for help.”
Leon sat up a little straighter.
Okay, the picture was clearer, now. New arrivals. Something about them had probably set Waylon off – the man was a nice guy, but not the most stable in the world. Leon knew the details about him: A dead wife, two kids he couldn’t see without endangering, and the only people who knew the hell he’d gone through were dead and hanging around as weird ghosts that only he could really see. If the new arrivals seeking sanctuary in their base had been a little too close to home, he could see how that might have messed him up.
As Chris went over more details, laying out new missions for other operatives, Leon took his own notes. There were a few things he needed to speak to Chris about.
Some updates he hoped to get on his own information seeking.
With the help of the BSAA, Leon had started researching the Tyrant programs Umbrella had once terrorized a dying city with. The program that had created the creature that had followed him through the years had been a nightmare, hell on Earth from what he could find, but he needed to understand it.
He needed to.
When the meeting ended, Leon stayed in his seat, going over his notes. It took him a minute to realize Chris had approached him, dropping into the chair next to him. “I’ve got an update for you,” Chris’s voice was quiet. He waved a woman forward – a new face, a new arrival of some variety – and she walked with a cane to set a folder on the table in front of Leon. “This is Lisa Park,” Chris explained.
“Oh,” Leon stared at her, then jolted as he realized. “Oh, shit, that’s—”
“Yeah,” Chris nodded. “That’s why.”
“Is he okay?” Leon winced. “No, I know he’s not. Is he still alive and sane? How are you here?”
“The nurses in the cancer ward saved my life after an assassin did a shoddy job,” Lisa sighed, pushing her hair out of her face. “But to the other question…Waylon is alive. I am not sure sane is a word to describe my husband, Mister Kennedy.” She sat down in the chair Claire had vacated. “I was told you were the one to deliver this information to.”
She tapped the folder.
“What is it?”
“Research on the Tyrant programs. The Nemesis project, the T-00 project…Old files, found in abandoned servers and mainframes all around the world. In the time since my husband last saw me, I have made many friends,” Lisa smiled, though Leon could see pain in her eyes. “I made connections around the globe, helping share the videos he wanted everyone to see. In the time my husband has been running to avoid being killed, the Murkoff Corporation has been ground into dust.” She leaned back, resting both of her hands on the grip of her cane. “Waylon wanted the world to know what venturing into hell looked like and he showed them all. The video proof, both his and the one belonging to a Mister Miles Upshur, have been spread across the entire world.”
“Murkoff isn’t getting back up,” Chris added in. “Not from this. She did good work and, once that was finished, she went to find me and Claire.”
“We can’t fix what has been done to the people who were wronged, the ones who were experimented on,” Lisa breathed through her nose, tears building in her eyes. “But we can make it so it does not happen again. Waylon found out I am still alive. He is one of the ones who was wronged. He…” she stared into the distance. “I doubt he will ever be who he once was ever again.”
Leon nodded. He pulled the folder closer, trying his best to seem the normal amount of interested as he flipped through the pages. “Thank you,” he stopped on the entry for T-00. “For finding this. For all you’ve done. Fuck, I don’t know, maybe I’m thanking you for surviving.”
Lisa laughed, shaking her head. “I do want to know why Tyrants and Bioweapons specifically.”
“Uh…” Leon glanced at Chris. Albert was standing behind him, now, with a hand on his shoulder. His eyes were glowing. Bright glowing orange. “I’m not infected, if that’s a worry?” He looked at everyone around him.
“It wasn’t,” Chris gestured for him to continue.
Albert leaned in. “Do go on.”
1998
“If you’re okay now, I need you to come with me.”
He spoke to the creature – Tyrant, Mr. X, T-00 – as a person. The notes and messages he’d found had mentioned power limiters and knowledge of limits, but there was also intelligence in those eyes. Leon stayed near it, him, as much as possible. Talked to him. Offered him food when he stopped at some vending machines that had been broken down by the initial chaos and loss of power.
The guy seemed to understand, nodded along, and gave answers as best he could.
“I mean,” Leon sighed, his gun drawn as he walked down the hall, Mr. X at his back. “Out of the city. You’re proof of what they’ve been doing, and I don’t think they’ve exactly got a retrieval plan in place for you once you’ve finished doing whatever they’ve sent you to do.” He looked up at him, trying to smile, but it felt flat. “I don’t want you to die because they don’t care about retrieval.”
A large hand landed on his back, patting a couple of times before pulling away again.
“Seriously, Umbrella sent you in to try and destroy evidence. I don’t think that sort of thing comes with caring about you coming back out. This whole city is one big drain on their public image.” Leon glanced around a corner – not that he really needed to be too careful, now.
Mr. X stopped every threat that came too close. One squeeze of his massive hands was enough to stop even a Licker in it’s tracks.
Careful was better than dead, though. Overly cautious was a survival tactic for a reason.
They walked together through the halls of the police station, clearing every room they came across to try and keep the undead from popping back up at every turn. There was only so much Leon could do if he got infected and there were still people that needed his help. Claire was out there, somewhere, probably just as scared and lost as he had been. She needed him to get back to her, solve all the puzzles in the stupid building, and find out what had happened.
When a leather-gloved hand curled around his cheek, Leon turned to look at his unlikely companion, stopping on the spot. “Please come with me,” he whispered.
They stood there, silent and unmoving, for what seemed like forever. When X nodded, Leon felt a weight pulled off his chest, air suddenly coming in gasps. “Good,” he nodded. “Good. Thanks,” he rubbed the heel of his hand across his cheek. “Good. That’s good.”
2022
Leon swallowed, nervous and suddenly unsteady.
“Back in ninety-eight,” he started, taking a deep breath. “I found something. Someone.”
Come clean, he told himself.
Tell them.
They deserved to know.
“Don’t panic when I tell you this,” Leon advised. “In all seriousness, do not. I spent hours in that situation, a couple of days even, and I was certain of it before I allowed anything to happen.” He looked at Chris, who nodded. “When I was in Raccoon City, they sent in the T-00. It found me – he found me – and the initial response was kill orders. He was sent to eliminate witnesses. He was sent to ensure that no one survived. When Raccoon had a strike called down on it, we all made it out of the city,” Leon paused. “Claire, Sherry, me…Him.”
Chris leaned back in his chair, his eyes wide. “What?”
“He had an antenna in his head!” Leon hurried to add. “And then I shot it. I unscrewed it from his skull. He made sure I didn’t die, in those days, and he’s the one who carried Claire and Sherry when they were too exhausted to walk anymore. When we got picked up by someone driving by, I gave him coordinates and told him to get to my apartment.” With a pause, Leon closed his eyes. “Claire was so exhausted that she fell asleep when we took a break on the side of the road. Five miles later looked almost exactly the same, so she never questioned it.”
He watched as Chris continued to just stare at him. “Claire never knew,” Leon added. “And if Sherry did, she never told me. He walked behind us the whole way until everyone was so exhausted, they passed out.”
“Adrenal drop,” Albert spoke up. “Combined with a couple of days spent on edge, I would imagine all of you were exhausted. Sherry would have been a child, then. Twelve years old.”
His hands clenched into fists, something like relief in his expression when he looked at Leon.
“Keep going?” Chris asked.
“When I gave him the coordinates, I also gave him my apartment key. I told him to move as unnoticed as possible. I asked him to stay safe there until I got back,” Leon swallowed his nerves. “And on every mission he can, he still follows me.”
“The T-00 is still alive?” Albert’s voice rose over all the shock filling the room.
“Yeah,” Leon nodded. “He is. He’s not in the best shape, I don’t think they intended him to survive this long – or maybe there’s something he needs that they were giving him, and he can’t get it with me. I’ve been grabbing their old files and doing my best to recreate the right chemical mixtures to try and keep him stabilized.” He laid a hand flat on the folder Lisa had brought with her, his eyes welling up. “He helped me survive hell and I’ve been doing my best to keep him alive since then.”
Chris rubbed his face, groaning quietly. “Shit, Leon, this is…I mean, I am not surprised you kept someone safe who seemed to need it, but goddamn it.”
“I needed their research,” Leon whispered. “Because I think he’s dying.”
“Your constant companion of, what,” Albert stared at him, eyes narrowing. “Twenty-four years, now? Of course you would be concerned. It is in your nature, from all that I have heard of you. And yes, I do believe you are correct,” he scoffed. “The T-00 was an untested experiment, when I was last involved. There were the T-001 and the T-002. Imperfect and unfinished.” He crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “But even a superior version would not last this long without stabilization. He is very likely dying.”
Leon nodded, feeling his eyes burn. He needed to remain composed until he had a moment to sort himself out.
“Fortunately for both of you,” Albert moved Leon’s hand off the folder, picking it up to leaf through it himself. “I am a virologist. I have a PhD. I know what I am doing,” he glanced at Chris, a small smile flashing across his lips. “I managed to save someone important with very few resources.”
“In an actively falling-apart building,” Chris added.
When Leon turned to look at him, Chris flipped his arm over, showing him the scarring on the skin revealed.
“To be fair,” Albert added in, studying the pages in his hands. “Only in that building for a few minutes. Transferred to the van. Park drives well, even under pressure,” he flipped the page, eyes focused on the words in front of him. “Burton also made certain of our safety and well-being.”
Blinking, Leon opened his mouth, only for Chris to sigh. “You’re not infected,” Chris shrugged. “I am, now. Same virus as him, synthesized in his body, perfected by him over the years, added to my blood as a means of fighting a much deadlier infection.” He heaved a sigh, shaking his head. “We still don’t know what it will have done to our lifespans. We know at least Albert can regenerate from almost nothing—”
“Becoming a corpse in a volcano is a lesson in limitations.”
“—But we don’t know how long we’ll live.”
Albert sat up, laying the folder flat on the table and tapping a finger to the page he’d stopped on. “Specimen name,” he breathed out slowly, nodding. “Human origins mean that there is something to work with.”
Leon jolted, dragging the papers across the table to look at them.
Mikhail Bogdanov.
A Russian man who had been tagged for experimentation. The shaky signature on an English-language document, a name written in Cyrillic. “Something to work with?” Leon questioned, still staring at the name. “Meaning?”
“Genetic structures gone dormant,” Albert’s near monotone was actually helpful, in a way. “It means that there is a chance, with some gene therapy and possibly some splicing, as well as a combination of viruses, that your Tyrant’s life may be saved. Give him back his life expectancy, his health in some way – a full reconstruction of his previous self will likely be impossible but enough to give him some of himself.” Albert looked at Chris, who nodded. “It is likely that Umbrella lied to him, in terms of what experiment he was intended for. They tend to take advantage of those who could not fight back, when choosing specimens.”
“Such as someone who doesn’t speak English,” Leon gestured at the Cyrillic. “Being told one thing in his language and another thing being on the paperwork.”
“Precisely.”
Chris groaned, covering his face. “I can’t believe you kept a Tyrant, Leon, what the fuck?”
“I’m not particularly in the business of killing off people who help me, thanks,” Leon snorted, shaking his head. “And without him, Claire and Sherry would both probably have been worse off, too. He helped keep us all alive. When there were those Licker things, he kept them from attacking me.”
“Fair enough, I guess,” Chris groaned again, shaking his head. “And I don’t know if I can say anything either, Albert’s a Tyrant as well. Technically?” he lifted his head up, looking at the other man. “Are you considered a Tyrant? Or just a bioweapon?”
“Bioweapon,” Albert answered smoothly, reaching over to snag the folder again. “Not a Tyrant, just one of the researchers.”
1998
They’d made it out.
Fuck, thank every God and every religion he had ever heard of, they had made it out alive.
Leon took a moment, after getting off the train and into the open, walking for ages, to sit on the ground and press his hands against his face. Groaning into his palms, feeling the urge to scream, he waited until the dizzying rush of fading adrenaline passed. Claire sat next to him, holding Sherry in her lap.
They were both passed out, Leon realized.
Mr. X walked slowly to meet them, crouching down to inspect the girls. There was something so similar to worry in his eyes that Leon reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. “They’re alive,” he croaked. “We’re all alive. We made it out.”
A large hand came to rest on his back. A worried glance back at the cloud of dark smoke and ash in the distance made Leon sigh.
“Yeah, we should probably keep moving, big guy. They need to rest for a bit.”
With a shake of his head, Mr. X carefully scooped them both up. He grabbed Leon’s arms and tugged them around his neck, directing his legs into the belt of his coat. With only a few prods and pokes, Leon followed his silent instructions, settling in so that the belt went across the backs of his knees, his hands locked together at the front.
One arm holding Claire and Sherry, Mr. X closed his free hand over Leon’s, keeping him stuck in place.
Leon closed his eyes, leaning into the larger creature, and let himself doze.
When he woke up again, Mr. X was setting them all down.
Claire shifted in her sleep, Leon saw, and he understood. However long it had been, Claire needed to not see one of Umbrella’s creations when she woke up. He’d not been able to tell her beforehand and he didn’t want her to learn like this. Mr. X had been on the train with them, hiding as best he could, and she had been panicked at the monster chasing after them.
Mr. X lay Claire down, cradling her head and shifting his other hand to Sherry’s back so she didn’t tumble off of Claire.
“I didn’t—” Leon started, his voice quiet as he spoke directly into the creature’s ear. “I don’t think there’s ever enough of a thanks I can give you.” He settled on.
More gentle movements got Leon out of the makeshift harness of the belt.
Standing in front of him, Leon looked up at Mr. X and studied his face. “Thank you so much,” he whispered. “For saving me. For saving us. For getting us here,” he gestured around. “I don’t know what else to do. Or say, really.”
He needed to have something else for him. Their lives had been made easier by X, he couldn’t just let that be it.
Oh.
Leon took a deep breath, nodding. “Can you travel by coordinates?”
A sudden leap of faith, a shot in the dark, a chance—
Mr. X nodded.
Digging through his pockets, Leon found a pen. “Let me see your arm?” he asked, miming pulling up a sleeve. When Mr. X complied, he uncapped the pen and pressed gently into the pale skin he found, smiling when the ink showed up against it. “These are the coordinates for the place I live,” Leon explained. “Get there. Stay low, stay safe. I will come back for you,” he looked up to meet Mr. X’s eyes, clenching his jaw. “I will. I promise.” Another dig through his pockets turned up his apartment key. “Let yourself in. If there’s anything you want, there, just have at it.”
With another nod, Mr. X set his hand on Leon’s head for a minute, then turned and walked away as quietly as possible, disappearing into the brush.
Leon sat down next to Claire and Sherry, waiting.
Claire woke up first, groaning and grumbling, and pushed herself off the ground to sit up. Adjusting her hold on Sherry, she turned to look at him, frowning. “Did I fall asleep?” Claire yawned, rubbed her eyes, blinking a few times. “Leon, you need to sleep too! Are you okay? I’m sorry I just passed out on you.”
“It’s okay,” Leon assured her. “It’s fine. I figured you needed the rest.”
A squirm of guilt rolled around in his gut, but he ignored it.