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Summary
Something about him piqued your interest instantaneously. Could it be the way his tired blue eyes dragged the menu, while his mouth parted onto the names of intricate coffee items he whispered? Or perhaps it was the tidied, gray suit coating his frame, that seemed to hug every muscle of his just right? There was the cut of his face, like his jaw was sculpted carefully before softening at his chin with marble, or the scratchiness of the morning seeping from his voice.
Or perhaps it was the fact that he looked like a zombie.___
Leon S. Kennedy had to go AWOL.
Something was up. After surveying the attacks in Atlanta, Georgia, his appeal to be dispatched there was denied. So, he took matters into his own hands. He had made a vow, one that meant he'd do anything to destroy any effort of bioterrorism.
Which meant he was going in completely alone and underprepared for what was in front of him.
The mystery laid out before him had his hair in disarray, but no one could prepare him for the complication that was you.