Chapter Text
The worst thing about the last two days probably wasn't the fact that he was dumped, or how he drank his soul away the night before he was supposed to show up for his first shift. It was probably the hangover.
Leon considered himself a good driver. He passed his written test and driving test with flying colors, he always used his blinker, he didn't only use the backup camera when reversing. A good driver under normal circumstances.
Here, on this icy, snowy road to Raccoon City, he was utterly miserable and cursing his past self for doing such an irresponsible thing. The amber glow of the bottle of Jack Daniel's in his cabinet was too enticing to resist, knowing the burn sliding down his throat would follow by the face of his now ex-girlfriend telling him it was over.
Leon blinked. God, his head was pounding. He reached for his bag in the passenger seat, rummaging in the little net where a water bottle would usually go but contained a bottle of aspirin. He balanced the steering wheel as he popped the bottle open, downing two pills dry and placing the bottle back in its spot.
He sighed. Wasn't there some sort of driving condition where the road got all weird? Like when you were driving in a straight line for a long time? Or maybe, since it was pitch black outside aside from his car's headlights, he was somehow seeing through tunnel vision.
Who cares. Leon was in for it, being late for his first day as a cop. He'd probably have to beg for forgiveness or scrub the floors for two weeks to compensate for his irresponsible actions. He wasn't looking forward to whatever punishment the RPD had in store for him.
He wanted to get out there and help people. It was why he worked his ass off and graduated top of his class, even breaking a record that made his superiors' eyes bulge.
Leon blinked again. How long had he been driving straight? How many more miles of nothing but trees and snow?
His silent prayers for change were answered when a slight curve appeared. He carefully treaded it, taking it slow. The last thing he needed was his car skidding across the road and smashing into a tree. He'd never live that down.
Ahead, Leon could see tire tracks in the snow. He frowned. They were new. Sure, the snow was falling slowly, but these were fresh. Going straight, and then swerving into the other lane. Going off the road. Leon followed the tracks with his eyes before slowing his car to a stop.
To his left, an overturned police cruiser with its lights flashing, turning the snow into a disco of red white and blue. Still on the road, a few yards ahead of him, was a plain cream colored car.
Leon glanced at the road ahead, then back at the cruiser. Officer down in the middle of nowhere. Maybe they needed help.
Leon put his car in park, unbuckling his seat belt as he opened his door. Frigid air rushed the cabin. He got out, adjusting his coat as he shut his door. The weight of his pistol against his hip made him feel a little better about getting out of his car on a sketchy, very creepy, back road.
He brushed off the chill and investigated the cream colored car. To his surprise, it was still running. The headlights cast a warm glow upon the snow. He reached for his flashlight in his jacket, raising it to the driver's window and clicking it on. Nobody home. Nothing in the seats.
The broken windshield grabbed his attention. His footsteps crunched the snow as he moved to the front of the vehicle. The front right bumper had a little dent. He squinted when a snowflake fell on his eyelash. A few dots of red splotches on the bumper.
Blood. Broken windshield. Someone was hit by the vehicle. But who? Where were they? In the cruiser?
Leon made his way down the slight hill to the overturned cruiser. Immediately, he noted the two sets of footprints visible, a record kept in the elements. A boot print clear as day, and right behind them, the outline of a bare foot. He kneeled beside the open door, shining his light into the cruiser—
"Oh, Jesus… shit…" he cursed with a grimace.
The body of an officer strung upside down stared back. Not actually, for his eyes were distant and dead, but still. A dead police officer in the cruiser. Leon swallowed and placed his fingers against the man's pulse point. Nothing.
He shook his head with a huff. Looking at the cruiser, he couldn't place together what happened. How did the officer flip? No way it was the snow, the tires had chains. The man must've been experienced in driving in the elements if he was stationed out here. So what the hell happened?
His shoulder radio dangled in the air. He could've reached for it, but Leon doubted it. An accident like this could have easily left the officer paralyzed. The radio on the dash looked to be tampered with, too. Busted. And the fact that both driver's side door and passenger was open… he was missing something for sure.
He had to keep going. If he found whoever opened the doors, he'd find out what happened to the officer. He couldn't just leave the man there without bringing something back to let the RPD know of his passing. Leon took the man's badge and stuffed it in his pocket. He would not let the man be forgotten by the force he dedicated himself with.
"I'm sorry," he said, guilt swirling in his chest even though he couldn't have helped the man.
Leon got to his feet and focused back on the footprints. He followed them around the cruiser, shining his light on the trail leading up to what looked like an older farmhouse. Complete with a barn, tractors, a shed, and everything. Not two sets, but one. The boots.
Someone survived.
Leon looked back at his car apprehensively. He didn't want to leave it there. He looked back at the house.
"Shit. This is what I get for being late my first day," he said to himself.
Leon returned to his car to shut off the engine, stuffing his keys in his jean pocket and grabbing his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. Who knew how long he'd be gone. He'd feel better knowing he was carrying ammo and extra clothes.
Leon passed the cruiser with a heavy heart, jogging to catch up with the footprints. He came across the wire fence, reading the electricity warning. Probably for whatever livestock the owners of the land had. He was careful to climb over it, though he nicked his heel on the wire, sending a jolt of electricity up his leg that made him jump.
Leon shook it off and started towards the house. Whoever ran to the house could've been a criminal the officer arrested, probably for hitting someone with his car and running. Leon wouldn't let the officer's efforts be wasted. He would catch the person in question and bring him in. Maybe that would waive his tardiness in the eyes of his seniors.
He could only imagine what the homeowners were going through, letting in a stranger out of the kindness of their hearts only for them to be… who knows.
He was about to find out.
The wood of the front porch creaked under his feet. Leon drew his pistol. The front door was wide open, allowing the cold air to infiltrate the heat-filled abode.
Leon paused in the doorway, his brain running in circles. Surely he had probable cause, right? There was a possible criminal harming innocent civilians after an altercation with an officer of the law. While there were no signs of a break in, there could be a hostage situation.
He ran through his training and protocols. The hangover made it difficult to remember exactly what rights he had to entering in this scenario. Leon shook his head. Forget protocol for a second, people's lives could be in danger.
Leon raised his pistol and entered the house, the warmth immediately fighting away the chill that had nipped at his nose and ears. He should've brought that hat his ex had gotten him a few weeks ago. Would've saved him some shivering.
The living area was cozy. Under different circumstances, Leon would've taken the time to really admire the art on the walls and the framed photographs on the stone mantle. There was firewood in the fireplace, unlit. The homeowners were planning a cozy fire, probably until the criminal put a wrench in their plans.
The interior was decorated almost like a stereotypical log cabin. Something Leon liked to look at when passively watching those home shows where people have to choose between three houses. His wet boots were muffled against the red rug. Leon's eyes briefly raked over two empty metal rungs on the wall. An empty shotgun stand. Shit.
The worst part of the house was how quiet it was. A place like this looked to be well-loved, lived in for years. Not abandoned at all. It looked like the homeowners were going to have a nice evening by the fire, with some sort of hot food and drink, enjoying company. Leon's brows furrowed in determination. If the criminal was hurting the homeowners, they had a harsh reckoning coming.
He raised his foot to the first stair when something tough pressed against his spine. Leon froze.
"W-Who the fuck are you? Where did you come from?" a shaky voice asked. Leon gathered three things: this person was terrified, they were probably near thirty, and they clearly hadn't held a weapon before. The barrel of a double barrel shotgun pressed harsher into his back, though it shook tremendously. "Are you normal? Fuck, tell me you're normal and not like that thing out there."
This person was nervous raising a weapon to another human. Leon was, too, in the beginning, but he had to accept it was part of the job. Part of saving lives. In order to help people, sometimes you needed to have the guts to be rough. This person didn't have that.
Leon opened his mouth to spew something like "you're threatening a police officer" before it died in his throat, remembering the person's words. Normal? Thing? What thing?
"Lower your weapon," Leon managed despite his confusion.
"Hell no! Not until you show me you're normal!"
The gun shook.
"What do you mean normal?" Leon pressed.
"Wha—you're telling me you didn't see that thing out there? The dog?"
"No."
"The woman?"
"Woman?"
His repeat questions drew a frustrated groan from the person. Leon's fingers clutched his pistol.
"Where did you come from?" the person asked again, firmer this time.
"Christ, just put down the shotgun and let's talk, okay?" Leon said. The barrel was pressed further into his skin. He hated the feeling of the cool metal digging into him. He bit back annoyed curses. "I came from down the road. I saw an overturned cop car and went to investigate."
"What the hell kind of guy are you, getting out on some creepy road to investigate?" the guy asked in a mocking cadence. "Some fuckin' video game character, Tomb Raider bullshit—"
Leon utilized the man's monologue to whirl around, shoving the barrel of the shotgun up and taking it out of the man's hands with ease. He let the shotgun hang by his side in favor of assessing the man.
Average height, maybe between five foot six and eight, with a yellow and blue beanie on his head decorated with sheep. A blue and white pom pom on top. He was dressed mildly for the weather, similar to Leon, with one large overcoat and a yellow flannel peeking out above a gray shirt. Jeans or dark cargo pants tucked into his boots. Still glistening from a trek in the snow. A green box resting against his hip with a white cross on it, a black strap across his chest.
The suspected criminal, holding what looked to be some sort of medical… thing. An organ or something. The one who left footprints. His eyes were wide, a deep brown with fear clutching at his enlarged pupils.
Leon knew better than to automatically assume someone was innocent, but the man's puppy-dog eyes were making it hard not to. Especially with how scared he looked now that he didn't have a weapon.
The man swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. He had a bit of stubble surrounding his chin and neck.
"L-Look, man—" he tried.
"Save it. Do you know about that cop car? What happened?" Leon questioned. He only had so much time before the man tried something—whether it be to run or try and wrestle a weapon from him. He needed to act fast while he still held the power. "Did you kill the homeowners?"
"What?! No! What the—no! I didn't kill anyone—" the man abruptly cut himself off. "Well…"
Leon raised a brow incredulously. "Well?"
"It's a long ass story, man, one I don't have time to tell. This is the weirdest fuckin' night ever and I swear to you, there's some fuck shit going on and if you're normal, which I really hope you are, we need to find some shells for that thing and get the fuck outta here. Call for backup, something!" the man rambled.
Leon didn't immediately dismiss the idea of the man being a criminal. He may have killed someone, but he also seemed terrified out of his mind about something. Leon didn't understand. There was nothing abnormal about the land or the cop.
"What—"
"Ugh, just help me find some shells and I'll give you the cliff notes. Please," the man said breathlessly.
Leon assessed him again. Big brown eyes. How this man was nearing 30 or already 30 was beyond Leon. He could pass as mid to late twenties.
He may not "officially" be a cop yet, but he couldn't ignore a plea for help. Everyone deserved the right to a fair trial. Everyone deserved help.
"Fine. But I'm keeping it," Leon said firmly.
The man gawked. Offended. "Wha—what? Dude, I found it first!"
"And you shook like a leaf threatening me with it." Leon opened the barrel to see they were both empty. He grinned wolfishly at the man. "Bet you couldn't even shoot it."
"Fuck you, man."
"I'll take that as a yes. It's staying with me."
The man huffed. His eyes were so expressive. "The hell am I gonna protect myself from these monsters with? A fucking chair?"
Leon started up the stairs, raising his pistol and strapping the shotgun to his back. He could feel the man right on his toes, his body mere inches from Leon's back.
"What're you talking about when you say monsters?" he questioned, reaching the top of the stairs.
"There's something weird going on. Started with the lady I hit with my car—" the man rolled his eyes when Leon looked back at him incredulously "—I know, but I tried to help her. Really! I wanted to bring her to the hospital since I was going anyway, but she was acting all fuckin' weird."
Leon checked the first door on the left. It was an empty bedroom with the bedside lamp still on. He closed the door and moved on to the next, which was already cracked. He raised his pistol and flashlight, peeking into the room. A table with pots and herbs on them. Leon entered and grabbed some, stuffing them into his coat pocket. Maybe they'd be useful later.
"—like trying to put her hand in my mouth or something, and then the cop came and was like 'why are you out here with no chains on your tires' and I was telling him about the woman, and he agreed to give us an escort to the hospital but something happened in the car and it flipped."
"And the woman?" Leon said.
"Started chasing me! It was so creepy, dude! She didn't even say anything, she was just growling and screeching."
Growling and screeching? Leon didn't know about this. It could've been a medical thing, but what around here in the middle of nowhere could've made a woman act like that? How did she even get out here?
She was the owner of the barefoot prints, then. The more Leon mulled it over, the more a specific theory popped into his head. She could've been the homeowner. It would explain why the door was unlocked, why the man could easily get inside, and why she was found not too far from the house. Because why else would a barefoot woman be in the middle of the woods in the snow unless she wasn't too far from home.
Leon continued down the hall to the last door. He felt the man's hand grasp his jacket, which he elected to ignore in favor of swallowing down his own nerves. Despite the man seeming insufferable, Leon was kind of glad he wasn't alone. This was some creepy video game shit.
He pushed open the door. A bedroom, presumably the master. Large, with two bedside tables by an unmade bed. Lamps basking the room in a cozy glow.
"—the cop's gun and… I'm sorry but it was me or her, you know? She was coming at me," the man said quickly. He was out of breath trying to explain himself, to prove himself innocent. "It was self defense."
"You shot her?" Leon said as he searched the dresser drawers. If this were the primary bedroom, no doubt ammo was kept in here.
"I… yeah. There was no other option. It's not like I wanted to."
Leon paused to look at the man. His eyes were downcast and remorseful. The look of someone who did something bad in order to preserve his life. The man didn't look like a killer, which once again made Leon chastise himself for running with assumptions without evidence, but he wanted to believe the man was telling the truth.
Except for one crucial detail that didn't add up.
Leon opened the top right drawer, being met with three boxes of shotgun shells. Hell yeah.
"So where is she?" Leon asked as he grabbed a box, putting it in the net on the side of his backpack. He opened another and shrugged the shotgun from his back, popping the barrel open.
The man suddenly looked deathly pale. "The fuck you just say?"
"I said where is she?"
"The fuck do you mean? She was by the cop—" the guy said before pausing, his gaze locked on something outside the window. "Oh shit."
Leon frowned at his tone, following his gaze. Outside, where the view was expansive over the land, he could see the figure of a woman running towards the house. Coming from the cop car. Hopping the electric fence and getting back up like nothing was in her way. A pit formed in Leon's gut at the way she was running. Arms in front of her. Stiff.
Running without qualms for her own body. Like she didn't feel any pain.
"See?!" the man said vehemently. "Fuck, she's coming! Wh-What do we do? I fucking shot her, she should be dead!"
Leon, for once, wanted to believe that he was passed out on his couch with his buddy Jack Daniels by his feet instead of feeling the bitter cold throbbing on his nose and a million unanswered questions swirling in his mind.
A loud thump and scream snapped him into action. He whirled to the source of the noise, a person running out from the dark, open bathroom he hadn't noticed. Arms stretched the same as the woman, eyes crazed, headed straight for the terrified man with the sheep beanie.
Leon was quick to grab the man by the back of his jacket, pulling him behind him as he raised the shotgun. Clicking the safety off.
Right before the shell entered the man's skull, he caught a glimpse of his eyes and skin. Blood-crazed eyes, bloodshot. His skin would've been pale if not for the gray, sickly pallor overtaking him. The next moment, his blood and brains were staining the floor and wall.
The shot rang in Leon's ears. The ease of which he pulled the trigger surprised him. The man was a civilian as far as he knew. But much like how the man in the beanie described his encounter with the woman, he was just defending himself from an attack. It didn't make him feel any better about it.
What kind of sickness was this that made the person act so… zombie like?
The man behind him was screaming.
"Holy shit! Holy shit, you just—" he took a deep breath. "Who the fuck are you?"
Leon's tongue flopped uselessly in his mouth, still stuck on what the hell was going on, when he was abruptly shaken back to reality by loud thumps downstairs. The woman had breached the house and was quickly moving upstairs. Leon's heart raced in his chest, his nerves on fire, and yet his hands were steady on the shotgun.
"Oh my god oh my god she's coming—"
The woman entered the bedroom the same way as the man. The same way she'd been running. She had the same bloodshot eyes, her skin coated in the red liquid. Leon sent a silent apology before pulling the trigger. Her blood joined the man's on the wall.
"Holy shit," Leon muttered in disbelief. The shotgun barrel was smoking. His eyes didn't move from the two dead bodies on the ground. Headless.
"Answer me, who the hell are you?"
He turned to the man. Heaving chest, wide eyes, hands clasped around a pistol. Standard issue to officers. Shit, he did mention he took the cop's pistol. Leon couldn't count how many bullet holes were in the front of the woman's dress, but no doubt the clip was still loaded. While the man wasn't pointing the barrel at him, he still held the weapon with an intensity that said I'm not afraid to use it. Leon doubted he was.
Leon wished he wasn't still fighting the hangover. Maybe then he'd be thinking a bit more clearly. Though, he figured, he'd be getting nowhere if he didn't answer the guy's simple question. Maybe he'd get some answers in return. The man seemed like quite the chatterbox when asked the right questions. Honest, if only a bit sarcastic with a sailor's tongue.
"My name's Leon. Leon Kennedy."
The man's shoulders relaxed a little. Good. He let his pistol fall to his side, though he kept a grip on it.
"Bryan," the man said with a shaky exhale.
Leon nodded curtly. "Not exactly the best meeting spot, huh?"
"Guess not."
Leon found his own muscles unfurling from attention. "It's good to meet you, Bryan."
Bryan gave a nod of his own. He didn't have to say anything for Leon to know he shared the sentiment. Instead, Bryan's eyes flittered to the dead people on the floor, blanching again.
"Oh, God, what the hell."
Leon followed his gaze again. Yeah. What the hell. There were tendrils, slimy and thin, protruding from the woman's headless corpse, reaching for identical tendrils escaping the man's body. Leon had no clue what the hell was going on, but he definitely didn't want to stick around and find out. Like it or not, they needed to get moving. Bryan said he was headed to the Raccoon City hospital. Leon's eyes found the green bag he cradled close to his body.
A medical courier.
Leon was headed into the city, anyway. The cop in him, sworn to serve and protect, didn't have any reservations about the idea that popped into his head. Escort Bryan to Raccoon City, make sure whoever needed that package got it, and then clock in at the RPD for his first night from hell.
Or maybe convince Bryan to stop by the police station first for more firepower and then escort him, because Leon had a feeling that whatever they just dealt with was just the beginning of this weird-ass night.
Things for later consideration. Leon shook his head and grabbed Bryan's sleeve, tugging him.
"Let's go, hurry!"
"Okay, okay! Christ."
Bryan followed close behind Leon down the hall and down the stairs, his breath close to Leon's neck and hand grasping his shoulder.
"Why're you holding onto me like that?" Leon said as they entered the living room again. He did another sweep. Nothing noteworthy to take. "Aren't you, like, thirty? Clinging to a twenty-one year old."
"Hey! You took the main firepower, you get to be in front. That was your choice," Bryan snarked back.
"Like you'd chose to be in front with how shit your aim probably is."
Bryan exhaled, probably about to say something sarcastic again before pausing. "There was a truck out front. They probably don't need it anymore. I'm not walking through the snow again."
Leon silently agreed, trying to ignore how he missed the weight of Bryan's hand on his shoulder. He shook his head and walked into the blistering cold. The sky was still dreadfully overcast with snow continuing to fall steadily. He immediately spotted the vehicle in question, jogging to it, hating how the cold stung with every breath. Leon opened the driver's door, finding the keys on the dash.
"Lucky break," he muttered to himself.
"What was that?" Bryan said, climbing into the passenger seat.
"Nothing."
A beat of silence as Leon turned the ignition.
"You sure you're not like them?"
Leon rolled his eyes. "I'm positive."
"That you are?"
"That I'm gonna shoot you."
Bryan tensed a little. "You sound like that cop back there."
Leon slowly eased the truck forward to a gate with chains around it. A padlock clear as day on the front. He risked a glance at Bryan. The man was already looking, a little unsure, but eyes scanning. Assessing for an answer. Leon just shrugged.
"Shut the fuck up, you're not a cop."
"Yup."
"No way. No way I run into two cops in the middle of bumfuck nowhere—"
Leon caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He frowned, noting the darkness inside the house. The lights had been cut. Leon did not touch the light switch, neither did Bryan. There was no reason to try and save their electric bill when they were… you know. Aside from the eerie dark interior, the porch lights still glowed bright. He could see a hand protruding from the doorway, grabbing at the wood. No, more like clawing.
His gut churned. Gotta go, gotta go right fucking now.
At least three sets of legs made an appearance alongside two sets of arms.
"Holy fuck!" Bryan cursed.
Leon opened his door, using the foothold to stand half-out of the truck and raising his pistol.
"What're you doing—"
He shot, the padlock falling to the ground with a clink. He quickly climbed back in and slammed the gas pedal down as far as it'd go.
"Holy shit holy shit, what was that?"
"No idea. Better to put some distance between us and it."
Bryan exhaled, slumping into his seat. The green box rested in his lap, his arms wrapped around it. He still had his pistol in hand. Leon could see the safety off.
"Hey, put the safety on."
"Why? What if that thing comes back and we die because I can't get the latch off?"
Leon scoffed. "It's not that hard. You just push it down and shoot. Like this." He flicked the safety on his pistol on, then off. "See? Same model as that one. Standard issue."
"Are all cops this patronizing or is it just you?"
He chuckled as the click of the safety sliding into place filled the cabin.
"It's all of us."
The road stretched on. Leon felt like he was back in his car, getting something like tunnel vision the longer he kept staring at white littering the road. He fiddled with the air controls, warm air flooding the vehicle a few seconds later.
Leon had so many questions and no one to answer them. Bryan seemed just as clueless regarding the origin of why the people (and dog, apparently?) were acting so strange. If they could just get to the city, to the police department, maybe they could find some answers. It was a matter of getting there with that monster no doubt on their trail.
"So… you're a cop," Bryan said.
"Why are you so fixated on it?"
"You look too young to be one. You said you're twenty-one?"
He hummed.
"Shit. More accomplished than I was at that age," Bryan commented absentmindedly, his eyes following the trees as they whizzed by. "Wait, so you were going to Raccoon City, too?"
"Yeah. Not the most ideal station. Not a big fan of the cold, but there's a series of murders there that I hoped to investigate," Leon said.
"Why aren't you wearing a badge? Or those deputy hats that make you look like you're compensating for something."
"Today… today was supposed to be my first day."
"Oh. No shit."
Leon nodded slowly. "If people are acting this weird outside the city, I can only imagine what kind of chaos we're gonna face when we get there."
"You think this isn't isolated? Whatever it is," Bryan said.
"Can't be if it reached this far outside the city."
"W-Well do you have a radio or something? So we can contact the real cops?"
"Nope. We'll have to check in with them in person."
Bryan shook his head. "No. I need to go to the hospital and drop this off."
Leon's curiosity regarding the medical box couldn't be contained. Sure, the job of a medical courier was of great importance, but what was in that box that was so important that the man was so determined to deliver it?
"What exactly is in there that they need?"
"No idea. It could be some poor kid's liver or heart. Shit, I hope I haven't damaged it with all the running and falling…" Bryan trailed off, making sure the box was sitting in his lap, his body curled around it protectively. Still, he didn't open it. He glanced at Leon, who was trying not to stare at the deep brown pools for too long. "Hospital first, then police station."
"We could always split up," Leon blurted.
Bryan seemed to share the same hesitance as Leon, because despite Leon wanting to go to the RPD right away, he also didn't want to just abandon Bryan as soon as they got into the city. He hadn't seen the man shoot a weapon, but he didn't really trust his capabilities when his hands were shaking so much. He was taking the sight of gore surprisingly well, as well as the booming sounds of shotguns being used in enclosed spaces. It made Leon believe Bryan could theoretically defend himself, it may just take him a few screwups to get the hang of it.
If they were going by zombie logic, they didn't have the luxury of screwups like characters in video games. One bite and you were done.
Leon had only known Bryan for close to an hour, but he felt responsible for the man somehow. His safety, his health. Maybe it was the cop in him, or his heart that his friends at the academy said was carved from gold. He just knew he wouldn't be able to sleep well knowing he and Bryan split up and something happened to the man because of it.
Leon's job was to serve and protect. Despite not adorning a badge with his name on it, he was sworn to those values. And, he found as he glanced at the man again, that he wanted to see the package dropped off too. Whatever it was. That, and he didn't want to see a good man get hurt trying to do the right thing.
"I uh… I'd prefer not to," Bryan murmured. "Y'know, since you have all the firepower. Probably gonna need it."
"Right," he said. He snickered to himself. "You that bad of a shot that you need me to do it for you? What are you, a pompous princess?"
The night may have turned to shit, full of strange tendrils and zombies and violence, but Leon found great humor in the way Bryan's cheeks flushed and brows furrowed as he prepared a retort. Leon felt his chest grow warm, not from the heat pushing through the vents, but from the way the man in the passenger seat tore into him for daring call him something like princess just because he couldn't shoot a gun well. Some princesses shot guns, Bryan argued.
Leon liked him. That would make splitting up after the drop-off much harder.
He continued to speed towards the city.