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mandalhoerian · 1 year

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NO TIME TO DIE | leon kennedy x oc | 8

pairing: leon s. kennedy x oc word count: 18K~ warnings: discussion of suicide, grief, mourning, a doggo death, graphic description of gore towards the ending, mr x DUN DUNNN summary: In the aftermath of Marvin's burial, it seems all Vera can do is keep slipping up in front of Leon who stands his ground on prioritizing getting everyone to safety, but once the potential answers to all his suppressed questions appear in the form of an FBI agent, it's revealed that he indeed is looking for someone to hold accountable for Raccoon City's demise just as much as the next alive, suffering person. author's note: special thanks and dedication to @lucky-peenut and @mykobirb for the love and support and listening to me ramble about everything, and the incredible art they did for nttd & vera. i'm not worthy, but i gobbled it up like a man starved nonetheless,,,, am on my knees six feet down

READ ON AO3 ! ☆ NO TIME TO DIE MASTERPOST

“We should go inside,” Leon said, stepping forward to stand next to the grieving, dissociated girl so thoroughly drenched that the pink of her top was a whole other color. The puffs of mist from his breath blending into the air was heavier in opacity than his voice. “You’ll get really sick.”

There was no indication from Vera that she’d heard him. Leon attempted to swallow down the stacked rocks of guilt and pity and called her name, louder this time, uncompromising from the carefulness to not spook her, as he’d learned she was easy to startle.

He had to force his face not to sour in sorrow when she turned to him as if waking from a dream and not really comprehending her surroundings. “Huh?”

“We should go inside,” he repeated, reaching for her, but not really touching, just to get her attention to gesture towards the police station. “You’ll get sick if you stay like this any further.”

“Ah,” she smiled the tiniest bit, hollowly. “Sick, huh. Right.”

He knew what she was thinking inside. As if she could care about something insignificant as catching a cold at this moment.

There was a pocket of shelter a balcony above provided they could use to step off from the rain. Leon was able to at least get her to back off together with him underneath it, even if they had to stand close to the body bags lined along the wall. She was intermittently getting the shivers, and he wasn’t sure if it was the cold or the misery. Maybe both. The girl was missing a whole sleeve for god’s sake, and her bandages were getting wet.

So, he ended up briefly leaving her side to go get the jacket he was wearing prior to changing into the uniform, and Vera accepted wearing it with little to no protest – like some patient in a hospital not really conscious of what the nurses did to her.

It was a bit baggy on her and covered her hands until only the ends of her fingers showed, but if it did its job in warming her up, then the size was no problem at all, on the contrary, the material wouldn’t touch her bandages like this.

“Thanks,” she exhaled, yet, had that bitter, distant, thousand yard stare on her as she adjusted the jacket that he didn’t take personally.

Leon knew what he was saying and worrying about was so dumb from her perspective, but he had to look out for her, didn’t he? She was all that was left. Even if Leon had been a colossal failure this far at protecting people he’d sworn to aid, he couldn’t fall on his ass, let everything go and complain about it, he had to keep going – he had to keep trying his best and succeed this time. He had to make sure Vera was safe, and it started simple with looking out for her health so she had the strength to move forward. The girl wasn’t in the right state of mind to care for her wellbeing right now, so it was up to him to remind and support her to get back on her feet.

It just didn’t sit well with Leon how the situation was forcing him to go about it.

This really wasn’t how a person facing death of an immediate family member should be treated like, in a better world he would be helping her take care of herself where he was allowed, and giving her all the time and space in the world she needed while making his presence clear as someone she could confide in and seek companionship whenever she needed it. Steer her in the direction of therapy without outright saying. These things required time and labor of the heart.

He was endlessly uncomfortable with basically having to tell her to suck it up and move on and mourn when she was safe to do so. Hated the cruelty of it, hated more that Vera was in this situation in the first place.

Though, what could he do? God, if he could somehow guarantee Claire and Sherry’s safety to let Vera sleep and rest, he would let her stay by this grave as long as she needed to in a heartbeat.

But unfortunately, Vera had no time to mourn.

Leon couldn’t let her be, and leave Claire alone on her own to look for the lost little girl with a monstrosity on their trail.

“You would be right to get angry at me for saying this, I wouldn’t blame you,” he started, hoping to convey his sincerity. There was considerable distance between them even side by side that he had no courage to cross. “Because I am angry for having to be like this – that it’s this way. You should be able to get to mourn openly and feel those emotions—”

“I know there’s a but coming next. I’m aware we have to go, Leon. I know.” He couldn’t control the press of his eyebrows at the heart-wrenching frustration swelling up inside at her understanding. Vera should have been snapping, but all he’s receiving was a weary lack of reaction. “We have no time, right?”

“Yeah,” he said faintly, hands falling down to his sides, leaden, defeated, stomach in knots. “No time.” He bowed his head, unable to meet unwavering, sad, storm-gray eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, you did nothing wrong.”

When he looked back up, Vera wasn’t facing him anymore, looking up instead, her profile and the curve of her nose to him, completely ignoring the zombie horde ahead rattling the metal fence, towards the skyline of skyscrapers fallen in total darkness from what he guessed was power outage. He could only discern one belonging to the Umbrella Pharmaceuticals because of the glowing umbrella logo the whole country was no stranger to. He had no idea if she was searching for Marvin up in the sky or just didn’t want to see his face. Guilt smothered his whole being, but Leon didn’t blame her for not finding it in herself to face his way, be it out of disgust towards him or anger – because he was being his cruelest yet.

To a person who deserved none of it. A person who was being gracious to him despite all of his fuck-ups.

They stood side by side together for a while, her watching the rain and the buildings, and him the graves of Marvin and all the coworkers he was supposed to have, lost in their individual thoughts.

Leon had unwavering faith in the good in people, but the world didn’t seem to share that sentiment of his, in fact, it doubled down on them with cruelty, always some kind of carefully constructed tragedy meant to bend reserved for the most pristine of souls. He’d asked himself why uncountable times now, every time he had to put down a zombie and finish the job for good, every time he thought about the person they’d been, every time he caught himself being numb about it and no longer affected.

Raccoon City was hell on earth for delicate hearts that had unprecedentedly survived the initial plummet.

The only reason Leon was able to keep going and not lose it completely was the companions he had collected along the way – do it for them if not yourself, you have to help them, was a mantra in his head, especially after Vera and Sherry were taken.

And now he was back to square-one again, head bowed in shame, finding it an actual struggle to keep a watch Vera who hadn’t moved from the spot she was standing with the help of the shovel stabbed in the dirt other than occasionally swaying on her feet from lack of strength, the final note he’d handed her like passing on a torch that didn’t belong to him was neatly folded by her as if it was written on a thin layer of frost and put in her shorts’ pocket. She had read whatever was written on it and just stared at it with dead eyes for five minutes straight before he couldn’t take it anymore and offered to go inside – and it had broken Leon’s exhausted heart in a thousand shrapnel pieces tearing up his insides.

The cold spreading through his limbs wasn’t because of the rain or the crisp autumn night, it seeped into his very being from the loss weighing heavy on her shoulders and tying an invisible leash around her neck to a makeshift grave.

Leon had to admit he didn’t know how to support her going forward, let alone how to approach her right now precisely because of his apprehension about the correct way to give her the much-needed mental strength to endure.

This had to be one of the hardest trials of life he was going through, particularly since he was powerless to do anything to be of real help, or shoulder even a bit of the pain she had to be going through.

He wanted nothing more than to make it all go away, and having to live with the fact he had no control or a possibility of impact on the situation was a pill he couldn’t swallow, especially because he could have done things better — done better, overall, even if it was through steering the path to the best possible outcome amongst choices only made up of a sea of worsts.

Leon could have done something, anything – anything to not let a noble, good man die on his own like this, leaving a daughter behind who was forced to move on just to survive at a time she should have been mourning to process loss. None of this was fair. None of them deserved an ending of this kind. And heaven knows how many thousand people left in this city were in the same position, burned by the same fire, praying for help that would never come. He was about to lose his goddamned mind thinking about this over and over again.

The worst of it all was he had told them both he was here to help, and yet, done the exact opposite at every turn, a different shade of death he was unsuccessful to be a shield from was waiting around every corner.

Leon had been anything but helpful.

Hell, Vera had battled a monster and a whole serial killer on her own, and gotten right back up after getting hurt worse than he and Claire combined ten times while Leon was just. There. Useless the entire time. She was ground zero in both situations.

Jesus Christ, he was a failure. What was he doing?

“If you’re worrying about me, don’t. I’ve had enough of that. My dad wants me to survive, and so I will.”

Leon faltered; a bit dazed, gaze snapping right at Vera to see her nodding in bitter acceptance and determination, combing her wet hair back with a hand and swaying the handle of the shovel up and down to stab at the dirt in anxious energy. “I’ll do it so well he’ll call me a survivalist. Be a fucking superhero with that power, hell, I’ll even save you guys with it. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. He’ll see.”

Leon opened his mouth and almost said something ridiculous like, ‘Hey, what’s wrong?’ – but he halted at the last second, his jaw twitching to mutter, “That’s what the Lieutenant wanted all along, right from the start.”

“Yeah. He, uh,” she cleared her throat, gripping the shovel tighter. “The note. He… He said, uh – “

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No, its fine, nothing private. The stubborn bastard just repeated what he’d been preaching like clockwork. That he wants me to survive and live.” Vera huffed an unwilling smile, distantly nostalgic. “He could have written something sentimental, right? Like. Like I love you. I hate to be parting like this, I’m looking back at our memories together— I don’t fucking know, I haven’t… I haven’t written a suicide note before or anything but… But I’d rather have him blame me rather than leave a little note like he’s just going on a road trip or something.” She shook her head, lips twisting to indicate she was chewing the insides of her mouth. “I don’t know what I was expecting but. I don’t know. I guess nothing is good enough when you don’t get to say goodbye. It just feels so incomplete, like he’s off to somewhere and will be back in a minute. No real closure.”

Then, she thought about it for a minute, spacing out to the side, with it ultimately ending with her snapping out of it with the flutter of her eyelids and the raise of her eyebrows. “He said his goodbye. That’s all he’s been saying the whole time. So maybe his closure is all that matters and I need to not think about how he went.”

“Marvin was looking out for you until the last moment, that says a lot,” Leon said, tentatively. “He wasn’t gone fully.” Even right before pulling the trigger. But Leon couldn’t say that out loud. “I think you’re fortunate in that sense.”

Vera stared at him, dumbfounded expression just about to morph into offended, but not able to from how shocked she was. “Fortunate?”

“Ah – “ Leon stuttered, the words escaping him at her low tone. “What I mean is… Shit, I’m sorry, I…” He wetted his suddenly dry lips despite the abundance of rain in the air, under severe stress from how she was almost glaring at him, broken-hearted and distressed. “Of course nothing about this is fortunate. I mean that…” He opened his hands and let them slap back to his sides, completely given up. “You got to see him last as himself, Vera. He was your father until the end, and wanted to stay that way. I think you’re fortunate to be able to mourn that in these circumstances…” He sighed deep from his lungs, running a hand through his face. “I’m ruining everything the more I talk… You know what? Just – just forget what I –“

She was gazing at him like she saw something underneath that he wasn’t aware was there. “You don’t have a family, right?”

He blinked a couple times, freezing up. “What?”

“I remembered what you said underground with Sherry, that you also had no one.”

It wasn’t accusatory or mean-spirited, his shoulders deflated. “Yeah?”

“I have no clue if it’s reciprocated – but I know I get what you’re trying to say precisely because I know why you’re saying it from your position as someone like me, because yes, I am grateful, I am fortunate that I got to have a father like this, even though I didn’t deserve him at all—”

He turned to her slowly like a piece of metal gravitating to a magnet, utter disbelief washing over him the more she kept rambling.

Vera was one of the most confident and proud people he’d come across, the sudden display of low self-esteem was so out of character for her – even though Leon knew he might be being too presumptuous again, it didn’t suit her at all, like struggling with Mandela effect, or an eerie photo you knew something was wrong with at first glance. In his eyes, Vera was such a self-reliant and secure person in the face of every obstacle they’d come across together that he never would think she was capable of looking down on herself like this. It simply didn’t feel right to see her this way.

“Vera,” he started denying, the objection evident right from the start, but she didn’t let him continue.

“And you must be wildly frustrated to see me bitch and cry and hinder everything because, yes, you’re right, there must be people going through the worst of it out there somewhere—”

“That’s not true!–”

“Because I got to be happy, and I should be thankful for getting to be lucky—”

“Stop.” Leon said finally, a pointer finger hanging between them and lowering immediately when he noticed what he did, cutting her off harshly and feeling apprehensive and bad about it simultaneously. However, he had to. This was nonsense he had no tolerance for. “My situation, or anyone else’s, has nothing to do with yours, okay? It doesn’t mean you have no right to feel the way that you do. You’re allowed to be sad. I just wanted to say that—”

“I know what you want to mean,” she half-whined, half-muttered in disappointment, at herself, he could tell. “But I can’t find it in me to feel fortunate about anything at the moment even though I know what I’m doing is just complaining about gourmet food in front of a starving person.”

Leon wanted to kick himself. He shouldn’t have started a conversation like this. It would have been fine if Vera knocked him down a peg or two and put him in his place about what bullshit he was spewing but it had resulted in a whole hidden wound popping its stitches. “That metaphor is bullshit, you lost your father. It’s not about – don’t worry about me, don’t think about anyone else. You don’t have to feel guilty.”

“But I do. I feel guilty about everything, I don’t know what to do with it. I don’t understand him at all, because… Because I’m whiny, you see. I cut my finger with a knife and I call him to complain. I come down with the flu and the phone bill for the month skyrockets. I even had a defective insulin pen that had expired or something last month and ended up in the E.R. for the whole day and he had a night shift and I purposefully inconvenienced him so he would come and stay by my side through the pain knowing Irons would grill him for leaving. Point is I… I just lay it all down on him — and the fact that he has not only hidden this from me but thought me too weak to share his suffering and depend on that he resorted to this is… It just fucks me up.” Vera looked down at Marvin’s grave helplessly, the droplets of rain on her face coupled with her reddened eyes made it look like she was silently crying. “Yeah, it is a blessing to not have seen him turn into a monster – but it’s such a fucked up gratitude in the first place. To be loved so much to be given that privilege, and what kind of privilege is that in a shithole like this? He’s dead. He died with no one by his side, terrified, he thought he had to die first just to give me that.”

“I don’t think that’s all there is to it,” Leon blurted out, in a desperate shot to say something of impact. He felt obligated to share the speculation to put a brake on Vera’s spiraling thoughts, couldn’t just stand here and do nothing, all helpless and limbs heavy, as though shackled by invisible chains, rendering his attempts to salvage the situation slow and clumsy, futile, like desperately swimming against a relentless current that only pushed him further back, away from Vera. “It’s not about you being weak or undependable. He wouldn’t have ended it like this if he thought you weren’t strong enough to keep going. This is him saying he trusts in your strength and perseverance. He knows you can get through this. He believes in you.”

“Huh?”

“That’s why he was able to do this for himself, too, in a way, it goes both ways — doing this for you and for him, he saw that he could let himself go because you’d be alright even without him. He wanted to preserve his dignity. Go with grace while he could.” Taking a couple steps forward to stand by her side instead of staying in the respectable distance he thought was necessary, Leon also crossed the invisible boundary in his head. “And it was a win-win for him in the end, as messed up as it is.” He met her clouded stare, eyes thinning in empathy. “I’m aware it won’t make you feel any better, but perhaps somehow lighter. Eventually, maybe. One day.”

“Wow. That’s… the most messed up thing ever.” Her caught-off laugh and awkward head-scratch got his spine straightening in concern. “Kindest way to say it’s not about you I’ve ever heard.”

Leon was sure he went pale within seconds, and it had nothing to do with the air conditions. He leaned back, shifting on his feet. “Hey, I would never say something like that to you.”

“No. No, you wouldn’t.” Vera's voice quivered with bitterness and resignation, her attempt at a smile falling short of genuine. Her words pierced through Leon's hopes, challenging his desire to provide some sort of support, unable to help but question whether she was truly being honest or merely putting up a facade to spare his feelings, her tendency to deflect only adding to his unease.

Lost in his own thoughts, Leon found himself staring at Vera, searching for any sign of discomfort or underlying emotions. It took the gentle nudge of her fist against his chest to snap him out of his reverie. His attention refocused on her, his eyes meeting hers in a silent exchange.

"I’m thinking if it was you, you’d find a way to be the better person even in pain like this. But here I am—" Vera's voice trailed off, her words heavy with self-doubt and a tinge of regret.

Leon shook his head, dismissing the praise that felt undeserved. "You're giving me too much credit," he interjected, his voice tinged with a mix of humility and discomfort. "And being different from each other in grieving shouldn't be an object of comparison, anyway."

Vera arched an eyebrow in sarcastic contemplation, her gaze locked with his. "Why not? I feel like I'm not doing it right."

A sigh escaped Leon's lips as he struggled to find the right words. "I don't think there's a definitive correct way of feeling emotions. It's a deeply personal journey, and we all navigate it differently."

“I wish there was. And I wish someone would tell me what to do just this once. Guide me through it so I wouldn’t fuck up even worse than I already am.”

With urgency and a heart that sank impossibly deep into his stomach, Leon couldn’t stop himself from asking to enact the first instinct that took a hold of his body, “I could give you a hug for a start?”

And he received a lonesome, “No,” as an answer, a bit sheepish and taken aback, the sincere vulnerability stung his conscience. “I feel like I’ll just crumble if I’m held right now. And that’s not what any of us needs.”

“Okay…” he trailed off, restless, he would have rather gone through this alone than to see that expression on her face. “But if you ever—”

“I know, Leon.” She nodded. “Thank you.”

Leon realized what he thought was her needing a good hug right now was really just his wish. He wanted to hold her so badly to ease her pain in any way he could that it was overwhelming, a restlessness stirring within him at the realization of his desire to offer a hug stemming from his own longing, his own need to feel connected amidst the chaos. It wasn't solely for her benefit.

The response he’d gotten in return had hurt him worse – she should have been allowed to crumble, to have that, in the very least; it was her basic right, no shame or harm in it. He wasn’t even able to give that to her, but understood that she needed to navigate her grief in her own way, and none of it diminished the sorrow that was enveloping him, he just yearned to be there for her, to offer support in any way possible.

But she had just told him what she needed. That was his cue.

Leon held Vera's gaze, his expression serious and determined. "If what you need, like you just said, is someone to tell you what to do for now—" he began, his voice steady and reassuring.

"Just keep going," he continued, unable to hold back from placing a reassuring hand on the corner of the shoulder of her good arm – from reaching for her. Maybe it was for himself, but he’d gravitated to reducing the distance, anxious about the feeling in him akin to ships in the night drifting away. "Don't think too much. Not now, anyway. Keep your head here with me, here with us. And we'll figure everything out together once we're safe and sound, okay? It's not ideal, but you have to."

Vera nodded; her glistening eyes fixed on Leon's face. "Yeah. Yeah, okay," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Stay with me, alright? I need you to trust me in this and soldier on. Until the end of the line, at least," he added, his grip on her shoulder tightening just slightly and sliding to her arm for more comfort.

"I do trust you," she replied, her voice gaining strength. "You're right. Don't think. Thinking slows you down. Slow gets you killed. Yeah... His saying."

"Exactly," Leon said, a small, gentle smile playing at the corners of his lips. "That's exactly what you — we have to do. Gotta keep moving. For his sake."

"For Marvin," she echoed, voice catching slightly.

He held out his hand, again, another attempt, an urge to connect with her. "You with me?"

Vera nodded and placed her hand in his, the coldness making goosebumps erupt along his forearm. "Yeah. Together?"

"Together," Leon affirmed.

"Alright," Vera said, taking a deep breath, a sense of determination in there that he liked. "I think it's time we check in with Claire."

Here it is.

He knew she wasn’t ready to go. Because who could ever be? Even Leon, scorned by the relationship with his parents, had been endlessly devastated against his will after their loss despite claiming not in his better dreams that he could ever mourn them, and his life. And yet, the first time facing their graves, he’d been an abandoned dog at the door of his abandoned home, standing there for the longest time until his guardian had to take him away. It struck a personal cord in him to witness Vera going through a different version of the same thing, this kind of emotional exhaustion and the ripping of his heartstrings was a first in his life.

It was as Leon S. Kennedy that he wanted to take care of her through it, not as a police officer responsible for helping a civilian in a state of emergency. They were way past that relationship now.

"Let's go inside," Leon said, encouraging and soft, gesturing towards the building.

Vera hesitated, looking back at Marvin's grave. "I'll be back, dad," she said, bone-tired yet promising. "In a flash, okay? Try not to enjoy my absence too much."

I can’t afford to fail anymore, Leon thought, leading the way and pulling her along, feeling the cold of Vera’s hand warm up by his, hardened eyes not visible to her, I can’t let anyone down more than this.

The rain was somehow a blanket over reality, but you really couldn’t ignore the perfume of death upon entering the hall. The stagnant air was tinged with a putrid stench, a sickening mixture of decay and rot that permeated the abandoned police station. It clung to his nostrils, an inescapable reminder of the horrors that had befallen the once bustling hub of law and order, and it was somehow worse than seeing the body bags littering the garden outside. The more he stopped to breathe instead of pushing forward, the more the surrounding tragedy had the opportunity to seep into his every pore.

The last Leon had time to stop and breathe in this hall was when they’d found Marvin’s corpse. After that, it had been non stop running and hiding, chaotic shooting to stop the unstoppable nine feet tall giant bearing down on them wherever they went, and the gut-churning anxiety was just beneath his skin even though he’d seen that thing torn in half — the terror of being chased into oblivion echoed back to Leon from the walls witnessing Claire’s and his frenzied laps all around the station to shake him off.

That climbing fear of even hearing the booming footsteps of the man in the fedora and the overcoat approaching took over when he and Vera stopped to scourge the hall and put a halt on their momentum to talk to Claire. Shadows loomed large in his eyes, stretching and contorting as if alive and taking Mr. X’s shape, making every corner a potential hiding place for him and the zombies he let into the hall by breaking walls in his rampage. Darkened alcoves and doorways became pockets of uncertainty, concealing the lurking horrors that may pounce at any moment.

“So it was the sewers after all,” Claire informed them, shuddering audibly. “The smell wasn’t lying.”

Leon and Vera grimaced in unison, sharing a glance, she was sitting on the couch previously occupied by Marvin, elbows on knees, her backpack at her feet. In her hands was a custom silver Beretta left behind by him they’d only noticed was there after coming back to the hall. She hadn’t let go of it once upon finding it, turning the gun around and examining it in something stuck between a discerning, artistic eye, and melancholy. It was what he’d shot himself with. Leon couldn’t imagine the flurry of feelings she must be going through having that in her possession, but as of now, all of that had faded away into concern and disgust Leon was sharing.

Sewers. Holy shit. Literally.

“I didn’t really understand before I found a map for good, because let me tell you guys, this place is a fucking cave system. I don’t know how the whole city isn’t collapsing in on itself from how much they’ve dug underneath it and I don’t know why they felt the need to make it, like… intricately big either. Not exaggerating.”

“Fucking Christ Claire,” Vera waved at Leon to come closer so he could extend her the radio, and he obeyed. “I sure hope you didn’t roll around in anything questionable.”

A sharp puff of air left his nose at her remark, knowing it was her way of coping with the stress and danger of the situation — her own way of asking Claire if she was okay. He had received plenty of that by now to recognize the pattern.

“Well, don’t expect me to come out smelling like roses after this.”

Vera leaned into the walkie-talkie, a wrinkle in her brow. “No—Claire. Even with a tiny open scratch, you can become septic real quick if that shit gets into your bloodstream!”

“Ba-dum-tss,” Claire said, slightly unimpressed.

“I’m not joking.”

“Yeah, sorry.” The answer was a bit higher in pitch and apologetic, but still lighthearted. Perhaps Claire had expected quipping back and forth with the girl like how they’ve been so far, but Vera was really not in the mood (for obvious reasons), letting it go by setting a boundary in one sentence without making Claire feel bad about it. “I’m taking care of myself. Don’t worry. But again, get ready for me to reek like a Ninja Turtle when we meet up.”

Leon didn’t want to pester and pressure her into panic, but he had to ask. “Anything about Sherry? Her mother?”

“Unfortunately, still looking.” She sounded worried beyond being troubled. “There are things here other than just zombies, weird creatures — that skinless thing’s kind, but different.” Her sentence was over, but at the last minute, she added, “Not sentient like Mr. X, by the way. I was barely able to look around for good because of them. And I can’t help but worry, what if she jumped into sewage waterways to get away?—”

“Hey, Sherry is a smart girl, not a clueless child,” Leon interrupted. “She managed to make it all the way to that underground system on her own, remember? Unharmed.”

“But not with a monster chasing her — and… I can’t believe I’m saying this but she called it her father, you guys.”

The reveal fell between them like a flashbang, freezing the two in stunned silence.

Amidst the distant sounds of occasional groans and footsteps, the eerie silence hung in the air, unnaturally still, amplifying the snapping moment of the tension, as if the very building itself held its breath.

Vera’s entire spine straightened, sitting upright as if she’d swallowed a rod and looking like that too, not even questioning if she heard it right, like Leon was. “Oh what the fuck.”

“That thing was a man and it was Sherry’s father.” Claire’s static-crackling voice stumbled on her words, a hypothesis she was trying to make work. “The more I think about it the more it makes sense. Sherry’s mother, Annette, she… William, she said. About the creature responsible for making the elevator fall and rampaging. The reason for the misplaced interest in the ‘creature’ — all those weird questions she asked me is because it’s her husband.”

Leon was feeling more and more like he was hit by a vehicle on the road, getting up disoriented and not knowing what happened to him. “That means we just ran away because he simply looked like a monster.”

And thought he naturally would harm them.

“I fought back because he tried to fucking kill me,” Vera shot back, eyes darting everywhere, defensive yet hesitant, emphasizing with a jerk of her hand that held the Beretta. “But,” her voice got small. “But he did say something that lowered my ground enough that he almost got me. He said help me. He clearly said help me.”

“Good god,” Leon groaned, throwing his head back and staring up, despair creeping in. All that realization had accomplished was throwing at his face question after question.

What could have possibly turned the man into that?

If he was himself in there, just a father seeking his daughter, were others they’d come across like this too? They knew nothing about this outbreak, he was actively trying not to think about it and all the types of monsters they’d come across so far — how weird it was that it wasn’t just zombies, and now the absolute worst nightmare they had been ignoring so far for the sake of their sanity was closing in: humanity of these things — that calling them things simply because they were of unknown origin felt … wrong. “I’m getting a headache.”

Could Sherry’s father have been on their side all along? Or was Leon being way too hard to see some semblance of light in this hell?

“I feel like Sherry’s mother knows something about this,” Claire continued. “She was so professional, so about damage control. I can’t shake the feeling off.”

Leon didn’t want to assume the worst. Not anymore, at least. This entire thing had flipped his stomach upside down. “What could she possibly know? She could have been tracking her husband after whatever the hell it is that happened to him, that’s personally motivated. I think all of us can understand her what she’s going through—”

His jaw hung open in the shape of the last word coming out of his mouth when Vera cut him off, quite sharply, too. “We are getting ahead of ourselves here. Let’s focus on Sherry for a minute instead of exchanging theories about her family. It’s the kid who’s in danger, regardless of her father’s hypothetical intentions.”

“Alright.” This was the first time Leon had seen her express genuine anger since the revelation about Marvin’s turning, and it was for the sake of another person, a child. And she wasn’t wrong in wanting to progress. He accommodated to keep up with her pace, somewhat pleasantly surprised that Vera was focused and in the moment. “Can we assume all of this means the father wouldn’t harm her?”

Her forehead wrinkled in tension and her lips pulled sideways in a disapproving frown. A click of her tongue had preceded her sentence. “We can’t assume anything. For all we know, he’s been completely turned like all those undeads and creatures, but is going after Sherry because there’s an attachment there and it’s acting as an instinct—”

Leon couldn’t stop the nagging in his head from spilling. His words overflowed with urgency, gestures emphasizing enthusiasm and desire to be heard. “But what if, Vera, I can’t— We can’t just shut our hearts off to it! Maybe he isn’t chasing Sherry, but just trying to get to her… Maybe he attacked us because it looked like she was being abducted? We were strangers and he is her dad. And—And he could have appeared back there and killed Mr. X to keep Sherry safe.”

Vera had blatant distaste plastered on her face and Leon knew this was just going back to square one, but what if they could help him? Help this whole family?

Claire’s voice buzzed from the radio at that point, a bit depressed yet curt and decisive. “It’s not about that.”

He froze. “That’s… you sound certain.”

“I guess it’s right here that I tell you about something called the G-Virus.” Vera took her forehead in one hand and let out a dejected sound as Leon was fully alert to Claire’s explanation. “Remember when Irons mentioned it?”

Leon said, “The what now?” but the way Vera was acting had him squinting his eyes at her, even though she was looking down at Marvin’s gun, expression hidden.

G. This was the third time he was hearing about it, each time with increasing suspicion of what importance it could be holding. Hell, Irons was paid to protect the production of this G thing by the sender of the emails — he was ordered to get rid of his own subordinates, he wasn’t misremembering this.

“I found a report here in an office Annette disappeared into. Report on some kind of experiment.” As Claire went on, Leon bent down to search Vera’s bags for the files he had taken from Irons’ office under her shocked gaze. “It… It explains what Sherry’s father is. And some of the creatures I’ve seen here. As well as what he might want with her.”

Everything beyond the experiment part of the sentence flew right over his head the moment he heard it.

Experiment. Experiment? The disease swallowing up this whole city, discriminating fully against the innocents, was made? It wasn’t an accident, it wasn’t some apocalyptic event — it was created intentionally?

Leon's voice quivered, barely suppressed shock and anger bubbling in his skin like blisters, and he didn’t realize the hand he was holding the radio was shaking as well while he kept going through the bag in jerky movements. "So this outbreak, this chaos, all the death and suffering... it was all a result of a goddamn experiment?"

Claire sighed. "I can't say for certain about the outbreak itself, but this report, it's mind-boggling. Let me just read you a portion of it—you’ll know then."

Leon was growing more urgent. "Go ahead, Claire."

Half of the contents of those exchanges had slipped his mind, and he had to make sure if he was remembering right.

“The G-Virus clinical trial will be entering its final phase very soon. Before ‘G’— the new creature that will surpass humans — is born, allow me to predict a few things about its biology and biological functions—”

“New creature that will surpass humans,” Leon repeated incredulously, now holding the copy of emails he was looking for.

Vera reached for the papers. “What is that?”

“See for yourself,” he handed it to her, looking up from his crouched position, monitoring her closed-off expression quite closely while also following the lines she read he’d gone through already.

Police Chief Irons,

As thanks for your unwavering support, I have deposited a small sum into your account, to use as you see fit. I hope I can count on you to maintain surveillance over your subordinates, especially the ones who survived that mansion. Get rid of them if you must.

W. B.

His gut was telling him something.

W.B.

Who was this?

As Claire continued reading, the words painted a disturbing picture. "About Intelligence," she went on, her voice tinged with concern and dread. "The subject's intelligence will begin to drop immediately, with their linguistic abilities disappearing within a matter of days. Finally, they will lose their capacity to reason and their humanity. G will be a creature of pure instinct, driven only by a need to survive and reproduce."

Subject. Intelligence deteriorating. Loss of humanity.

Police Chief Irons,

I ran into some trouble with HQ. The suits want to take the fruit of my research away. But don't worry, this will all blow over soon. You just keep doing what I tell you to and everything will be all right.

W. B.

This was unreal.

Who could do this to someone, call them subject — such dehumanization that was bordering on the violation of human rights.

He couldn’t wrap his head around any of it.

Inside, Leon felt his own mental state teetering on the edge of a breakdown., barely finding it in him to stop Claire and ask a million questions he knew she had no answers for, yet Vera was only tight-lipped, face slightly pale, a simple crease between her eyebrows as she scanned the mail exchange — handling everything a lot better than he was.

Police Chief Irons,

You are to up the security around my lab. Your muscleheads are to shoot any suspicious person on sight. Doesn't matter if they kill them, or even if they're employees. I'm so close to completing G, and no asshole is going to get in my way.

W. B.

Claire continued to divulge the disturbing details, the implications of their discoveries growing even more unsettling. "Physical abilities say... Due to its unusually accelerated cell division—evolution—it will be highly adaptable to any environment," she explained. "Furthermore, with its amazing ability to repair itself through regeneration, it will be extremely difficult to completely kill it with any conventional small firepower."

Leon's mind raced as he connected the dots. Sherry's father, William, had displayed the same remarkable resilience. Despite Vera's relentless barrage of bullets, he had refused to be taken down. It seemed that William and the relentless Mr. X shared a common trait—they were both seemingly indestructible forces.

Were they part of the same experiment, different subjects of the same twisted research? It appeared that this was the true nature of their enemy, the reason behind everything they had faced so far. But what about the zombies? What role did they play in this web of experiments? Were they yet another gruesome creation?

Lost in his thoughts, Leon found himself needing to ground his racing mind. He placed his hand on the ground and slowly rotated his body, settling into a seated position with his back against the couch, his body shivering from a mixture of cold and emotional turmoil. Pulling his knees towards his chest, he rested his elbows on them, his freezing fingers flexing. The surreal nature of their discoveries was starting to overwhelm him, and a numbness began to seep into his being.

A brief moment of silence caused by nobody knowing what to say passed, which Claire had to interrupt. “You guys are awfully reactionless.”

Leon's eyebrows furrowed, his focus shifting entirely to Vera as he sensed her inner struggle. He took a deep breath through his nose, trying to maintain his composure while searching for any signs of vulnerability in her forced blankness. He couldn't ignore the tight grip she had on the paper or the intensity in her gaze.

Police Chief Irons,

Get your shit together and do your fucking job! I TOLD YOU I need more security in the sewers! Don't you know how critical of a time this is for me!? As for the money, I can pay you whatever once I take over, but not before. Why don't you get that!? Never forget how expendable you are.

W. B.

“Oh I’m reacting, alright.” Leon took a huge breath through his nose, nostrils flaring, trying to wash away the sudden surge of exhaustion. “Having a hard time processing is all.”

Vera nodded silently, her distant pensiveness apparent. She carefully passed the emails back to him, and he couldn't help but give her a confused look, curious about her reaction to what she had just read. "It's all a bit hard to make sense of," she finally spoke, her words devoid of any commentary on the contents of the emails, but Leon understood her restraint. It wasn't the right moment to delve into the details when Claire was providing them with crucial information. There were more pressing matters at hand.

Claire's voice held a touch of irony as she responded, on the verge of laughter. "You're telling me that after everything we've seen?"

“I don’t know.” Leon watched as she fumbled with her words. “Everything’s bizarre at this point.”

His concern deepened. He could sense there was something more, something weighing heavily on her mind, but couldn’t really ask.

“Then you’re about to short-circuit because of what I’m about to tell you—” Claire's voice took on a more serious tone, dripping with worry. "This is the most concerning thing I've come across in the report, and it's directly related to Sherry. It's why I felt compelled to share this with you in the first place."

Leon's posture straightened instinctively, one leg stretching forward as he leaned in, his hand propping up the radio against his mouth. "We're listening," he said, his voice steady but filled with scared apprehension.

“Here goes,” Claire began. “G's most remarkable feature will be its intense desire to reproduce. It will instinctively search out humans with DNA that closest matches its own and implant an embryo in them. But the chances of success are very low and if the DNA is not a close enough of a match, an underdeveloped G creature will be produced instead.” A couple heartbeats passed before she gave them the most important and relevant point to this report. “I suppose the only ones who might be a close enough of a match would be any biological children of the subject, though…”

A sickening feeling gripped Leon's stomach, his hopeful vision of helping just one more family out of this hell-pit contorting into one of unsalvageable despair, he ran a hand down his face in defeat. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Please tell me by reproduction and embryo you don’t mean the usual way.” Vera sucked her teeth and leaned down, starting to rearrange the contents of her bag, closing the zippers. “For fuck’s sake this is the only instance I want it to go the Alien movie route or something, just not—“

Claire also didn’t want to think about any of that, it being obvious from how she cut into Vera’s train of thought. “I have absolutely no idea what any of this means. I’m just telling you it matches and I don’t think Sherry is safe from him.”

“W.B. is William Birkin,” Vera blurted, all of a sudden, a random bursting rather than an exclamation of horrified dawning, she met Leon’s petrified look with a regretful grimace of all things that did not fit the mood at all. “Sherry’s father is the creator of this G-Virus. Of course she isn’t safe from him. Shit, he fell victim to his own creation.”

Leon just stared up at her, rendered speechless, the scattered clues he was sensing were there lining up by a new order that made sinisterly more sense. What once was proof against Irons was now contextualized by a new layer of horror.

Vera didn’t know just what she had done to him with that — what she had given him.

Up until now, he was pushing his exponentially growing frustration at the end of his priority list, the relentless ache within his chest, a yearning for answers that seemed forever out of reach. The longer this nightmarish world failed to take him down with it and kept throwing tragedy after tragedy at his face, the more he longed for someone or something to hold accountable — for a utopian justice in the horizon where there was a definitive bad guy in all of this. He craved a tangible target for his pain, a face or a name to direct his anger towards.

But in the midst of the mayhem and suffering, Leon found no such outlet for his emotions. There was no specific person to blame, no entity to bear the burden of his wrath. It was a maddening sense of helplessness that gnawed at his soul that had only pushed him to just keep going. Keep going and focus on protecting everyone – which he had colossally failed at.

The aftermath of Marvin's tragic end and Vera's profound grief had left an indelible mark on his soul, and for their sake alone, he coveted an epicenter to project his sorrow onto, a focal point for his thirst for justice — he wanted to inflict the same pain upon another of a young girl burying her own father. The shattered fragments of a broken family, the disintegration of love and trust — it all demanded retribution, someone had to answer for this, right? But the cruel reality was that there was no one to condemn, no one responsible to direct his anger towards. The vast unknown loomed before him, shrouded in darkness and secrecy.

The frustration burned deep within Leon, fueling a self-loathing that threatened to consume him, berating him for his lack of knowledge, for his inability to make sense of the senseless, for not being able to do anything about it. The weight of his ignorance crushed him, leaving him feeling utterly useless in the face of the horrors that surrounded him. He yearned to be of help, to find solutions and bring justice to the darkness that plagued their lives. But without the knowledge, without the answers, he felt lost and powerless.

What Vera had done just now, was pointing at something — someone, and telling him this is it. A face. A gravitational point in the middle of directionless chaos.

And it was a dangerous thing to do, even if she was theorizing. Because Leon would take it and run with it, run after it, when his goal was to get as many people as he could out of this city.

It was Claire’s crackling voice that shook him off from his daze. “What? What are you talking about? What do you mean it was William?”

“I’ve heard enough.” Leon stood up, signaling Vera to follow him, that he was point and she was his six, making for the stairs on the right, the route in mind being the Chief’s office and the parking garage. “Claire, move out. We’ll meet you in the sewers.”

“How will you—”

“We’ll figure something out. You focus on protecting yourself and finding Sherry, okay?” I told you I need more security in the sewers, was what the mail read. Whether W.B. was William Birkin or not, a good chunk of paid-off officers were patrolling the area, something valuable was being protected. “And be careful. The sewers aren't as insignificant as we thought. Irons was taking bribes to guard that place because this W.B. person was working on that G-Virus of yours in there. I think that’s the reason why it’s crawling with the monsters you’re talking about.”

“W.B. as in William Birkin?” Claire wasn’t letting it go, and it put a scowl on Leon’s face. “You’re saying Sherry’s father is responsible for this mess?”

“That’s what the evidence suggests.” Vera stepped beside him to talk closer to the radio as they entered the waiting room. “How else can there be a singular, different entity out there that’s just the odd one out and unexplainable? Randomly appearing? William was the creator and he somehow came into contact with the virus and became that—”

Leon was about to creak open the door leading to the east hallway, but he halted, turning around. She wasn’t reaching. He knew she wasn’t. But everything in him wanted to reject it for his own sanity instead of jumping headfirst into it, he just couldn’t do this without definitive proof of it first, or it would remain eating him up from the inside slowly. “Bit of a stretch, don’t you think? We saw the lickers, the dogs—”

“The dogs?”

“The dogs. Mr. X.” Opening the door, he checked the perimeter, pointing his flashlight and simultaneously Matilda at both directions in the hallway. “Not necessarily a pattern, is it? William could very well be another—”

“William and Annette are scientists.” Vera jogged to be next to him again, and extended her hand as if she was pointing at something obvious between them, matching Leon’s walking pace as he marched towards the now opened shutter that previously separated Irons’ safe area from the rest of the station. “They are virologists.”

“Oh.” God damnit. “Could be a coincidence.”

“Why are you so adamant on rejecting it?”

Claire trailed in. “You guys—”

“Why are you so insistent on it?”

“Because the dots connect themselves, Leon—”

“No, you connected them.”

“Because it was right there.” Vera was taking this quite personally, a spark of paranoia in there that Leon didn’t get why it was there, following him into Irons’ office fervently and leaving the door wide open behind her. “Why are you being suspicious?”

This was unsettling him, leaving him with a nagging sense of unease. What was it about this connection that she felt so strongly about? It was a dangerous path to tread, one that could consume him with unjustified suspicion and mistrust if he allowed it.

Claire tried again, her static-delivered voice hesitant and uncomfortable. “Helloooooo—”

“Why do you think? What am I — what are we supposed to do with this information?” Instead of circling around her, Leon reached forward to put his palm on the door and shut it, he hadn’t meant that to be an intimidating move that half-caged her against the door, only noticing it when her eyes grew wide, and immediately backed off the moment he noticed it was as if he’d just walked right into her face in a confrontational manner. “If I even remotely consider this, I won’t be able to leave it alone. I will want to get to the bottom of it. And it’s not exactly the right time for detective work to expose evil — we don’t even have concrete proof in the first place. So, let’s not do this right now, yeah, Vera? Let’s just save Sherry and get the hell out of this city.”

Her body, once poised and confident, seemed to instinctively tighten, a subtle tensing of her muscles that betrayed the impact of his words. Her gaze, once steady and unwavering, momentarily averted, darting back to meet his, shoulders drawing slightly inward, as if seeking shelter within herself, and a flush had settled on her cheeks, coloring her complexion with embarrassment.

Leon felt like he got punched in the stomach.

What the hell are you doing? She’s just trying to help — and after Marvin too, you asshole, you fucking dick.

“I’m sorry.” He raised his hands in an apologetic manner, eyebrows lowering softly along with his tone. “I’m sorry. I got heated up—”

Vera cleared her throat, looking away, and then looking back at him again. “No, it’s fine.”

“It’s not, I’m—”

“No, you’re right, Leon.” Vera offered a small nod, her features softening as she refused his words, genuinely in the opinion she’s sharing and not one touch of sarcasm in there. “If anything, I’m the problem for going all conspiracy theorist on this. What are we, some ragtag team of neighborhood superheroes or something? I didn’t even mean to suggest an investigation in the middle of all this, but now that you say it, I should have kept to myself instead of running my mouth. It’s just making everyone paranoid.”

She was looking for someone to blame just like he was — more than he was.

And it was in Vera’s job description to tie loose threads, of course she was big on speculating and taking ideas to places, brainstorming until she got where she needed to be. Leon had taken this way personally than it needed to be, so unprofessionally at that.

The internal turmoil had his heart aching. “There’s no—”

“Are you done quarreling? I would like to leave,” Claire said finally, taking the opportunity to wrap this up.

“Oh…” He was even more embarrassed at her disappointed teacher tone, if it was possible. “Yeah, Claire, sorry about that…”

Thankfully, she didn’t continue commenting on the argument, possibly in favor of not wasting any more time. “Stay safe, you two.”

“Will do.”

Her disconnection from the line left Vera and Leon standing awkwardly in silence.

She was the one to salvage the situation, starting to walk backwards, footsteps muffled on the thick oriental rug, she gestured with her head while adjusting her backpack. “We should be on our way as well.”

Leon internally sighed with relief. “Yeah.”

“Let’s hope Claire finds Sherry before we get there because it might take a while.”

God, Leon hoped so as well. This was merely a child they were talking about.

The thing about dissociation was you didn’t know you were doing it — and the entire way to the Chief’s personalized elevator, Leon was out of it, his body taking control and his mind succumbing into thoughts of everything he couldn’t quite process while Claire was dumping it down on them.

The image of Sherry, a defenseless child pursued by a hulking mutant, once her father, seared into his mind, the intention of transforming her into an abomination purely with distorted instinct and regressed reason was unfathomable.

Leon didn’t know what to be horrified about, who to mourn for, the emotional labor alone was soul-sucking. Was William aware of what he was doing, that he was deteriorating, was he in there still?

(Help me, he’d apparently said. Help me. Leon didn’t know how. He had no idea what to do.)

And he, in a twisted way, saw how this was a warped parallel of Marvin and Vera. This was what would have happened if the lieutenant hadn’t done what he did. This was what he was desperate to avoid.

What Leon couldn’t imagine Vera going through was happening to Sherry right now.

Failure was not an option, not when a young life hung in the balance. Leon couldn’t live with himself if he wasn’t able to save this little child in the end. He had to at least be able to do this.

He had to.

It was Vera's revelation about the colossal sinkhole dominating the city center that jolted Leon back to the present.

Apparently, an ongoing construction project had turned the once bustling urban landscape into a labyrinth of exposed pipes and canals, resembling roads leading directly into the depths of the sewers. It seemed like a suspicious stroke of luck, considering Leon had resigned himself to descending into the unknown depths of a repugnant manhole.

Right as she’d begun to share her plan with him, something had gnawed at Leon's mind — Vera's unnaturally extensive knowledge of navigating the labyrinthine sewer systems. It was as if she had ventured through those ‘secret’ passageways before.

Unable to suppress his curiosity any longer, he mustered the question that had been festering within him. "How do you know all this?"

A faint smile played at the corners of her lips, a fleeting glimmer of amusement dancing in her eyes. "Well, I am a private investigator," she admitted, her voice laced with a hint of mystery. "But the less enigmatic answer is that I've spent my entire life here, learning the city's secrets. It's a skill to find the best hiding spots when you want to evade prying eyes."

Leon's mind raced, trying to make sense of the puzzle pieces that were gradually falling into place. Vera's explanation didn't quite add up. The email exchange he had intercepted mentioned W.B. hiding something in the sewers, possibly the elusive G-Virus, with Irons serving as his protector and ordering his men to shoot intruders on sight. It begged the question: How could Vera choose such a guarded and patrolled location as a meeting spot or hiding place?

Furthermore, if Vera was truly familiar with the city's secrets, did she know about the police presence in the sewers? It was highly unlikely that she could have avoided the knowledge, given the tight security. Had she dismissed it as an unknown motive of Irons, or did she possess information about W.B. and the G-Virus?

Was that… Was that why she could confidently say W.B. was William Birkin?

Leon's skepticism lingered, far from satisfied with her seemingly straightforward response. "And just what have you been up to?" he probed, a note of suspicion creeping into his voice.

For a fleeting moment, a ghost of her lighthearted nature resurfaced, though now tinged with weariness — unaware of what Leon was stuck on. She avoided his gaze, the elevator ride serving as a temporary shield from his inquisitive eyes. Her words carried a teasing undertone, albeit subdued and fatigued. "Nothing you can prove, officer," she said, leaving a trail of curiosity in her wake as she stepped out of the elevator before him.

Once they climbed the stairs up to the garage and the barred automatic doors were in sight, Vera took him from the elbow and whispered, “Leon, hey,” her eyes darting at everywhere but him as if she were trying to solve a problem. “Stop for a moment.”

He was immediately in alert mode, alarmed that he wasn’t perceiving what she obviously did. “What? Is everything alright?”

“Something’s different here.”

“Different how?”

“Something changed.”

Leon tilted his head, turning around to understand what she meant, Matilda readied in his hand.

Rain was still pouring relentlessly, forming a shimmering sheet of water on the concrete floor, the steady hum of flickering fluorescent lights provided the only respite from the engulfing darkness. Everything looked all the more uncanny now that Vera had said it like that.

Rows of cars stood as abandoned guardians of some sort, windows smeared with grime and neglect, some bore evidence of violent encounters, shattered glass and dented metal, reminders of the desperate struggles that had taken place within these confines, and others simply sat in solemn stillness, owners long gone, leaving only remnants of their former lives behind. Patches of darkness lurked between the vehicles, casting ominous shadows that danced and distorted as the feeble lights flickered, the spaces feeling confined, suffocating almost, the metallic scent of gasoline lingering in the air, mixing with the mustiness of forgotten corners, creating an unsettling combination that prickled his senses.

He found what was fundamentally wrong almost immediately after a brief scanning of the surroundings. It was right in their faces.

Up ahead, a once inaccessible door was now illuminated by a vivid green sign that pierced through the muted surroundings. "That door's been breached," he declared, gesturing towards it with the barrel of Matilda at the ready.

“That goes to the jail area.”

“Jail?”

“Yeah. Looks like someone’s visiting.”

As if on cue, the air filled with the sound of approaching footsteps — swift, yet faint, their rhythm too delicate to belong to a human. The clicky cadence of nails striking against concrete hinted at more than one set of feet, their presence accompanied by a low, ominous growling.

Leon's heart skipped a beat; he knew exactly what lurked in the shadows. He and Claire had faced these on their way to the orphanage, right after securing the keycard from Irons' office.

A zombified dog.

However, Vera remained oblivious to what awaited. Unaware of the imminent danger, she uttered a single word, her voice raising a couple pitches up with astonishment and a strange, almost endearing familiarity. "Zeytin?"

Oh, no.

Vera could only tell this was Zeytin from the spiky black collar she’d specifically bought for him, but at the same time, was having a hard time registering just how wrong the dog she knew from his puppy days looked.

Zeytin’s once-sleek coat now clung to his bony frame in ragged tatters, like ghostly remnants of his former glory. The patches of fur that remained were discolored and matted, caked with dirt and dried blood, blending seamlessly with exposed flesh, bones protruding through patches of torn tissue, their stained white hue serving as a stark contrast to the surrounding decay. His eyes were milky and glazed over, unseeing, yet focused at the same time, on them, growling just as he did when perceiving an enemy, but was wounded somehow — every movement it made was a twisted display of both agony and determination, he was limping with each stride, as if the very act of movement were a painful ordeal.

Rationally, Vera knew that Zeytin was long gone, just like her father. She’d hoped he was safe from all this since it was just people that came back from the dead, yet, here she was being proven false again.

But the vulnerable part of her, the child who had lost her entire family, yearned for a familiar connection she could find rest in. It was this desperate longing that made Vera see beyond the grotesque sight before her. She saw the playful puppy she had named all those years ago when he was fostered under Marvin for obedience training. She saw the best boy she used to visit at the station after school, disregarding the regulations that meant nothing to her. She saw her oldest and most loyal friend, the one she had planned to adopt after his retirement in a few months.

However, Leon's outstretched arm halted Vera's longing to approach and comfort her beloved companion. His voice carried a sense of urgency and concern as he intervened, “Vera, don’t,” — pointing his gun at Zeytin, her dog in spirit if not in body and name.

Confusion and anguish filled her as she questioned Leon's actions, her heart pounding with fear and desperation. "What are you doing?" she pleaded, getting between the gun and Zeytin, her voice trembling with disbelief and a flicker of hope that her connection with him could somehow be salvaged.

“You gotta be kidding me.” Leon's exasperated groan filled the air as the Doberman lunged forward, its paws digging into the ground as it charged towards Vera's unsuspecting back. In a split second, Leon reacted, pushing her out of harm's way just as the dog collided with his chest, knocking him off balance. The impact sent Matilda skidding away, out of reach, while Vera stumbled sideways, her heart pounding with fear and adrenaline.

Zeytin, despite his wounded state, had moved with unexpected speed, his hunger driving him forward, and his sheer strength was making it a frantic struggle for Leon to keep the dog at bay, his hand firmly grasping its throat. Desperation filled his voice as he shouted, “Get off of me!”

Leon's outstretched hand blindly searched for Matilda, his life hanging in the balance. Zeytin's jaws were snapping dangerously close to his face, and Vera witnessed the desperate hunger in the dog's eyes — the same hunger she had faced countless times when confronted by ravenous zombies.

"Shoot it!" Leon's dreadful command pierced through her confusion. "Vera, shoot it!"

At that moment, Vera snapped out of her stunned state. But doubt and fear gripped her, rendering her immobile. This was a dog. This was Zeytin. "What? No!—" Her voice trailed off, what he wanted her to do overwhelming her.

The dog thrashed in Leon's grip, almost breaking free, its hind legs propelling it forward with renewed force. He was inches away from sinking his teeth into Leon's vulnerable flesh. "Shit! Come on!" Leon's urgent cry for help spurred her into action, instincts kicking in, shattering her paralysis.

Her trembling hands quickly grabbed the shovel hanging from her backpack, instinct making her unable to grab Marvin’s Samurai Edge for this. Vera’s eyes closed after locking onto where the dog was least erratic in movement, which was his torso area, and swung it forward to knock him off of Leon. The yelp Zeytin made upon being hit and the thick cracking pierced her right in the heart, and she heard him slide across the concrete, only opening her eyes right after when the only sounds following were Leon’s relieved breathing and him scrambling to get up.

Overwhelmed by guilt, Vera couldn't help but rush to Zeytin's motionless form, sinking to her knees beside him. The sight of her own dog lying there lifeless horrified her to the core. Her hands hovered above the spot where she had struck him, the words of apology tumbling from her lips in a desperate chant. "I'm sorry, oh, Zizi, I'm so sorry, buddy boy. Oh, god..."

Amidst her sorrow, she barely registered the clatter of Matilda as Leon retrieved it and the sound of his approaching footsteps. "Hold it down, it's not dead yet," he urged.

Leon's intention to shoot the dog mirrored Vera's apprehension. She looked up at him, choked with emotion. "We can just leave. Let's leave. We don't have to do this to him."

Vera could see the conflict in Leon's eyes, a mixture of hesitance and experience, revealing that he had encountered situations like this before. It dawned on her that Zeytin was not an isolated case, and the other dogs in the kennels had likely suffered the same fate. "I gotta shoot it, Vera," Leon finally spoke with sympathy and necessity.

Vera's arms shook as she weakly positioned the shovel's handle over Zeytin's neck, her grip unsteady, and right then, he started weakly whining and panting, head attempting to turn around, milky eyes right on her, and she panicked when she saw Leon aim his gun. “No, don’t!”

“What do you mean, no! Hold it steady—”

Zeytin was slowly regaining strength, and his crying and whining were as well, pulling on Vera’s abused heartstrings, making it impossible for her to follow through with the final blow. She couldn't bear the thought of causing him more pain. "You can't do it right now, just give me a moment!" she pleaded.

Leon's climbing frustration and mirrored panic echoed through the parking lot the more she didn’t let him do anything. “You can’t be serious!”

Vera's voice cracked, her cry resonating throughout the space. "He's my dog! He's Zeytin! I can't just..." Her words snuffed off, lost in a sea of grief and anguish.

"It's not your dog anymore!”

She knew it. Deep down, she knew. Zeytin was no longer the dog she once knew, and the guilt of not being able to do the right thing tore at her soul. If she couldn't bring herself to let go of Zeytin, how could she have faced the ultimate decision with her own father if she had been there with him?

Marvin had understood her and what would have happened better than anyone. He had seen her vulnerability, her compassion, and her weakness. It didn’t matter now that she was twice more unstable in not wanting to let Zeytin go after losing him, he knew his daughter.

And that’s how, despite the presence of two armed individuals, one restraining him and the other with a gun aimed at his head, Zeytin's feral instinct overpowered them all, the previously incapacitated dog suddenly breaking free from Vera’s hold and lunging directly at her neck, a chilling snarl emanating from his ravaged throat as both of them tumbled on the ground, Vera only being able to get a hold of him through his collar, the spikes making it hard to push him away.

With no warning whatsoever from Leon, a deafening gunshot reverberated through the garage, punctuating the air with a burst of violence, time seemed to freeze as the bullet found its mark simultaneously, piercing the dog's neck just inches away from Vera's desperate grasp on his collar, the impact causing the canine's body to convulse, blood splattering across Vera's face, mixing with her tears.

Zeytin collapsed on top of her, his lifeless form weighing heavily on her chest. The world around her faded into a haze as her senses dulled, overridden by the cacophony of her own ragged breaths coming in rapid, shallow gasps, the sound amplifying in her ears, drowning out any semblance of coherent thought.

The weight of her dog's lifeless body pressed down on her before sliding off on the ground beside her, a physical manifestation of the heaviness that settled within her. In that haunting stillness, her mind became a void, thoughts dissipating like mist, leaving only an overwhelming numbness, Vera's hand, still clutching the collar that once adorned her beloved companion, trembled uncontrollably, the warmth of Zeytin's blood mingling with her tears, staining her skin. She didn’t hear Leon’s terrified shock as he yelled: “Who the hell—”

And she also didn’t hear a third party ordering: “Stay sharp!” — Zeytin was stirring again, her heart picking up pace.

Another bullet lodged itself just beside the gash the previous shot had made on his throat, right after Leon said, “I’m sorry.” Vera didn’t know if she flinched from the loud bang, or from how the poor dog’s features were still twitching after that, completely foreign to her.

A hand was on her shoulder, the firmness and the warmth shocking her back to the moment. “Hey, you okay? Are you hurt?”

Leon was crouched by her, heavily concerned, and for whatever reason, her brain chose this moment to relay the information to her that someone else was there with them as well, her eyes zoning in on the shadowed silhouette instead of the blond beside her. “I’m good,” she murmured, propping herself up from the elbows and sitting up next, sorrow replacing disgust as she inspected them, her gaze finally falling on the creature that was no longer Zeytin.

Leon's voice cut through the air, harsh and edged with anger. "What were you thinking?" Vera's head shot up, momentarily dumbstruck by the accusation in his tone, but his words were directed at the figure ahead. Leon released his grip on her shoulder, stepping forward with purpose, his gestures sharp and commanding. "There was so much movement, you could have easily shot her instead of the dog. Her head was right there."

With a deliberate and unhurried pace, the woman in the cream colored trench coat emerged from the shadows, her short bob swaying with each confident step. Unfolding her badge, she revealed her identification, sophisticated voice laced with authority. "FBI.” The sunglasses hiding her eyes added to the air of mystery surrounding her, a tilt of her head conveying a silent message, as if raising an eyebrow. She hadn’t even needed to say, ‘I shoot a gun better than any of you can’ out loud as an explanation, the single word had conveyed all of that coupled with how cool she’d said it. “A thanks would have sufficed instead of a lecture on aiming."

Leon's voice softened, mingling with gratitude upon learning her identity. "Sorry. Thank you..." But before he could finish his sentence, the woman swiftly raised her gun again, firing a third shot that pierced through the dog's head just as it sprang back to life, causing Vera to jump in surprise, she hadn’t even noticed it twitch from being too focused on her. Leon's gaze shifted to the lifeless corpse, his previous complaints melting away. "For your help."

“Surprised you two made it this far.” Her attention got diverted by the clicking of heels stopping right in front of her, looking up to see the woman frowning down at her. “Did the blood get into your mouth?”

The clipped tone directed at Vera and the feeling of being watched underneath those glasses made her feel young and inexperienced as a teenager, fingers coming up to her cheek to feel around. “What?”

“Don’t touch your face, you’ll smear it around.” She immediately dropped her hand at her command. “Did it get into your mouth?”

Her mouth was bitter for a different reason altogether, but Vera had the feeling the woman would raise her gun for a fourth shot if she wanted to see what would happen and said yes to that question. “I don’t taste anything.”

“Good. You’re not infected, then. Keep it that way.” She sounded cold and indifferent about the bullet that was just dodged compared to Leon who immediately tensed up over the words — it was as if the sunglasses shielded not only her eyes but also any trace of warmth or empathy. “Here's a piece of advice: try not to let your emotions get the best of you next time, unless you want to bring your friend down with you too.”

Guilt flooded all her senses. Leon yelling at her about almost letting him die would be easier to bear than this kind of shaming reprimand, highlighting the potential consequences of her emotional state. The weight of her actions and the danger she had inadvertently put Leon in settled heavily upon her. She lowered her gaze, feeling her own inexperience and vulnerability in the face of the woman's stern presence. “Yeah… Thanks…”

Leon helped her stand up, casting a brief glance at the FBI agent while he focused on wiping the blood off Vera’s face carefully, using his sleeve and his gloves interchangeably, momentarily cupping the side of Vera’s face to hold her still, and it shouldn’t have made her stomach swoop the way it did, her eyes didn’t know where to look as he did that and spoke at the same time. “FBI, huh? So you know about this and how it spreads?”

She let out a faint scoff, her response dripping with a touch of derision. "Doesn't take a genius to know it's transmitted through bodily fluids."

Leon's hand halted its motion, his forehead creased with a hint of concern. "Were you informed by the FBI or did you discover it on your own?" Leon hurried to wipe remaining splatters off with his thumbs as she began to saunter away without an answer, and he jogged a couple steps after her, a bit frantic. “What’s going on here?”

Unfazed by their inquiries, the agent smoothly evaded the probing. "Sorry, that information’s classified." Her tone left no room for further discussion, indicating her intention to go her own way.

Leon refused to let it go. Determination etched on his face, he pressed on. "Where are you going?"

Vera observed the exchange, her mind replaying the instances when Leon had shut her down particularly when she had knowingly shared information about William Birkin. The contrast between his previous reticence and his current fervent quest for answers did not go unnoticed.

The agent stopped walking, turning around to face them, the downward curve of her lips displeased — as she began to speak, her words carried a patronizing tone, as if addressing disobedient children who had failed to heed her well-intentioned advice. “Do yourself a favor: stop asking questions and get the hell out of here. Stick around for too long, and one of you might end up in a situation even worse than the one you just faced.”

"Hey, wait a sec! We're not finished here!" Leon called out after her, radiating with persistence as she continued to walk away, no hesitation whatsoever.

With that, she vanished behind the door leading to the jail area, leaving Vera and Leon staring in her wake. Vera's gaze lingered on Zeytin's lifeless form, her frown deepening as she surveyed the macabre scene before her. The pool of thick, congealed blood beneath him shimmered under the flickering fluorescent lights, a grim reminder of the excessive shots it had taken to finally bring him down, each bullet a cruel tribute to her lapse in judgment. She couldn't help but berate herself for not ending his suffering with a single shot from her magnum, sparing him from further agony.

As she pulled her beloved dog’s body away to a more secluded corner for privacy and covered him up with a piece of cloth hanging from the open trunk of a random car, burdened by not being able to bury him, Vera was faced with what her dad was worried about all this time.

Turn it off, don’t do this right now, she thought, basically drying her own tear ducts. Don’t think. Thinking slows you down—

The agent's near-miss gunshot had been a sobering wake-up call, a jolt that had shocked her out of her emotional turmoil and forced her to regain her composure. In a twisted way, she felt that she had deserved the scare, a necessary consequence of her actions.

— slow gets you killed.

Maybe she should have thanked the woman better.

Her departure was strangely captivating, she had seamlessly transitioned from savior to enigmatic figure, leaving them with more questions than answers. — and it clicked for Vera that she had been the one who’d made the door accessible. Within minutes she’d saved Vera from becoming dog food, given them disgruntled advice, and stalked away on to her own business without even revealing her name, not expecting anything in return, really. Though her demeanor had been distant and impassive, her actions hinted at an underlying act of benevolence, leaving Vera intrigued by the enigma before her.

Leon came up to Vera standing over Zeytin, his eyes ablaze with newfound resolve, head nodding in the door’s direction. "Come on, let's follow her."

She stood there, mouth agape, trying to comprehend the sudden shift in Leon's demeanor, going to pick up her shovel from the ground. "Why?" she blurted out, her confusion evident.

"Because she holds the answers," Leon replied, shoulders squared as if ready for battle, brimming with conviction. "She could tell us everything we need to know. Don't you want to find out?"

That agent could only tell Vera what she already knew, but it was a sentiment Leon didn’t share, her lack of interest could look suspicious to him, he’d already been weirded out by her W.B. outburst.

She began to move after one last goodbye glance to Zeytin, heart heavy, her steps aligning with Leon's, curious about what had gotten him to make a drastic change of heart like this. "I thought you didn't want to get involved in detective work," she reminded him.

Leon glanced back at her, a bit embarrassed about his words boomeranging back to him, but determined all the same. "I changed my mind. How wild is it that the answers to all our questions showed up right in front of us? We can't afford to pass up this opportunity."

Vera wasn’t above pettiness. “What are we supposed to do with the information if we get it?”

He looked troubled as they finally entered the jail the woman had disappeared into, he held Matilda ready, and she had Marvin’s Samurai Edge out. “Vera…”

“Your words, not mine.”

They walked past the quiet cells of the jail beneath the precinct that held only grumbling undead, only flashlights illuminating the way forward. “I know what I said, but… She’s FBI, it’s far more credible than aligning dots and initials on documents, you know?”

Vera's laughter carried a tinge of offense, an unexpected reaction amidst the weight of her recent loss. "Wow. Damn."

She really shouldn’t have brought up W.B. being William Birkin like some match the words kindergarten exercise, it was only now occurring to Vera how unprofessional it had looked to Leon. She had been all over the place.

“I don’t mean it like that.”

It was a surprise to her that she was, in fact, annoyed by this — her mood fluctuating despite her wanting to remain level-headed, the toll of this night’s devastation clearly catching up with her and exploding out as a random lashing out. “No, I get it. Mr. ‘I want concrete proof and there’s nothing more concrete than the FBI instead of a random private investigator I’ve known for half a day’—”

Their conversation was abruptly interrupted as a zombie lunged at them from one of the cells, its bony fingers reaching out through the bars. Vera jolted back, her heart pounding in her chest, while Leon instinctively moved closer, a protective instinct taking over. He’d begun to do this a lot lately, his hand finding its way to her shoulder or arm, offering comfort in the absence of words that couldn’t quite cross the distance. Despite his own uncertainties, he emanated with a presence that anyone would think they were safe with him that eased her fears. "You're fine," he reassured her, the words washing over her like a soothing balm. He had the qualities of a true guardian, really would have been a wonderful cop if nothing had gone wrong, one of the good ones. "Stay close to me."

How gentle and kind he was to her made Vera immediately regret yapping at him like that. Leon had been so patient with her, been with her through Marvin’s departure — and all she could do was be unjustifiably annoyed at him.

Their previous discussion, a pointless banter, dissipated with that. Vera couldn’t bring herself to point out the detour and how Claire was out there looking for Sherry all by herself, just assuming Leon intended to expedite their questioning and swiftly move forward. He needed this, and Vera had no right to stop him especially when she was hiding the things she did.

Her understanding of the truth behind the outbreak had made her complacent, causing her to overlook the desperation that drove Leon to seek answers. Lost in the chaos and her own struggles, she failed to realize the extent to which not knowing weighed on him. With the weight of holding everyone together on his shoulders, she failed to grasp the extent to which the uncertainty was driving him to the brink of breakage. His desire to find the FBI agent and uncover the truth was a logical response to his mounting frustration and the need for some sense of control in that sense.

She was a colossal asshole, both for not revealing to Claire and Leon the information they were basically entitled to for going through hell, and for getting annoyed that he’d inadvertently insulted her for her obvious sloppy job at providing connections he was right in questioning. She had no room to complain about anything or feel offended.

Choosing to shutting the fuck up next time, she ignored the haunting cacophony of growls and rattling bars filling the air, the eerie symphony of those unfortunate souls who had met their demise only to return as twisted abominations, pressing on, following Leon closely behind along the row of jail cells.

The last cell in the row held an unexpected surprise.

It was Ben Bertolucci, a familiar face she had last seen less than a week ago during their intel exchange — Irons had said he knew about Bertolucci, said he had snitched.

So he’d thrown her under the bus to derail Irons because he was put behind bars, huh?

In retrospect, Vera should be angry. She really should be furious with him, her body was still sore, and yes, there was the fuzziness of all the painkillers and the comfort of the healing herbs, but Irons had almost killed her because of Ben talking. Two of her wisdom teeth were gone for fuck’s sake, her mouth still tasted of copper.

But exhaustion consumed her. Irons was dead, his threat extinguished. Her father was gone, leaving an irreplaceable void in her heart. She’d just witnessed her dog being put down. In the grand scheme of things, none of it mattered anymore. The weight of her losses and the weariness of her journey pressed upon her, erasing any lingering resentment. All that remained was a profound sense of fatigue and the need to get away from everything and sleep for decades until she was whole and okay again.

He sat there, composed and untouched by the horrors that plagued the rest of the jail, a living, breathing human in this sea of undead abominations, donning an overcoat and large glasses, his hair stylishly swept back in a tiny low ponytail as he casually smoked a cigarette.

As Vera and Leon approached, their footsteps echoing through the cold, concrete corridor, Bertolucci snapped to attention, his face filled with excitement. "Hello?" His voice reverberated off the walls, carrying a glimmer of hope in this desolate place, as if he had stumbled upon a long-lost treasure in this forsaken place.

Leon, taken by surprise, couldn't contain his astonishment. “Hey!” He hurried forward, leaving Vera momentarily out of sight, approaching Bertolucci with a brew of awe, relief, and eagerness to establish communication.

“I don’t believe it," Bertolucci breathed, his voice filled with elation, his hand reaching out to grasp the cold metal bars that separated them. "A real human. Hello, human!"

His humor managed to get a small smile out of Leon. “You been here long?” He leaned closer to the cell door, inspecting it as if searching for a hidden mechanism that could grant Ben his freedom.

“Long enough!” the man exclaimed, laughing. “Are we the last ones alive?”

With a shake of his head, Leon attempted to assuage Ben's fears, slipping into the familiar role of a protector. "No, no, there are a few of us," he reassured, his words carrying a hint of hope, even though the reality was far bleaker than he let on.

And then, as Bertolucci's gaze shifted, his eyes locked onto Vera. Time seemed to freeze for a moment as their gazes met. Taking a step backward, his excitement waned, he released his grip on the bars, a single word escaping his lips. "Shit."

With a mischievous glint in her eyes, Vera slid her hand into the pocket of Leon's jacket, her fingers curling around the fabric, while her other hand tightly gripped the Samurai Edge. A small smirk danced on her lips, a subtle challenge to his earlier reaction. If she wasn't angry before, she definitely was now, fueled by the implication that he might not have wanted her alive. "Thought you'd be happier to see me. Disappointed Irons hasn't gotten me yet?"

Ben, sensing the tension, raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Listen, I'm sorry. I had to look out for myself, alright? He and the suits make people disappear once they have ‘em, I couldn’t take the chance."

“So you rather he made me disappear instead?”

The timbre of Leon's voice instantaneously changed, taking on a deeper and accidentally intimidating tone, just on the edge of jagged irritation. It was a side of him Vera had never witnessed before. "What do you mean by that?" he demanded, his incredulity on the rise.

Vera ignored Leon for the moment, stepping closer to the cell, holstering the Samurai Edge for the moment and just stared. He had mistakenly believed he was safe within the confines of the cell, unaware that Vera's reach extended far beyond what he had anticipated. Without warning, her arm shot forward, seizing him by his tie and yanking him with such force that his head collided with the unforgiving iron bars. The impact shattered his glasses, the broken fragments clattering onto the ground as he cried out in pain, staggering backward.

Leon was late on yanking her away because of the shock, but he did, putting distance between the recovering Ben holding his bleeding nose and her, body acting as a shield as she paced around like a furious lioness. She pointed at him as Leon tried to swat away her hands. “That was for almost getting me killed!”

“Okay, okay, stop. Stop, Vera. I need you to calm down and take a few deep breaths. I understand that you're upset, but violence is never the answer—”

“We destroy skulls to put undeads down for good, what do you mean? Violence is the answer! We’re packed like the Terminator out here! Stop talking cop to me—!”

“Alright, alright, listen, we can’t harm each other and try to look out for one another at the same time, those are mutually exclusive. It's important to maintain control of our emotions, especially in heated situations in the midst of survival scenarios, it can leave us vulnerable to danger right now. Can you take a deep breath and try to calm yourself down? Step away for a moment.”

She sucked her teeth, making a tutting sound and backed off, raising her arms to let Leon know it was okay.

“Yeah, I deserved that,” Ben chuckled, the area underneath his nose was tinted with a red hue, he was raising his eyeglasses towards the light above and inspecting the damage. “You owe me money for this.”

“I owe you a fucking beating,” A wild defiance flickered across Vera's face, her eyebrows raised so high it caused discomfort. “Negotiate and the price starts going up, how does that sound?”

“How about you stop and tell me about the connection here,” Leon interrupted, half-trying to de-escalate the situation and half-really wanting to know.

A couple heartbeats of silence passed as she collected herself and cooled down, and Ben pocketed his glasses and flicked away his cigarette, crushing it under his foot, sharing a knowing glance with Vera. "Is he... you know?"

Vera scoffed, dismissing any need for subtlety. "He's cool," she assured, her tone laced with a hint of annoyance. "You don't have to tiptoe around it. Irons is dead."

A flicker of relief crossed Ben's face, his expression practically beaming. "Oh, thank God. There is justice in this world after all."

He didn’t ask how. He didn’t ask by who or what. Ben just took what he was given, happy that the bastard was gone at last.

Uncomfortable, Leon visibly distanced himself from the man in the cell, his unease stemming from the memories of Irons' demise. He had always been reluctant to celebrate anyone's death the way Ben was, regardless of how heinous they might have been, even when he’d told Vera that the man had gotten what he’d deserved. Taking a step back, he viewed Ben with suspicion and a touch of distaste. "What's this about?"

Vera took the lead, shedding light on their connection. “Ben here is a reporter. He was working on exposing Irons and I was lending him an invisible hand, so to speak. That’s why he was taken in, I’m guessing.”

There was recognition in Leon’s face, blue eyes flickering to the side as if remembering something. “He’s the rat?”

The reporter gave him the worst stink eye there ever was. “Excuse you, pig.”

“This pig is about to get you out of here, be glad he doesn’t hold grudges,” Leon responded, brushing off the insult without a trace of offense, glancing around. Vera realized that even though he’d said that, despite his assertive words, he didn't have a clear plan for freeing Ben from the cell, just looking to make him feel he was in good hands.

Vera's gaze shifted past the blond, landing on the power panel situated right beside the cell. She pointed it out, directing Leon's attention to it, and immediately spotted the issue. “Bingo,” she said, head mapping the cable paths. “That’s how we get him out.”

Leon's eyes trailed to the table positioned just beneath the panel, where a piece of paper lay. He picked it up and looked through its contents, his expression growing sour. “It says we need—”

“Electrical parts, yada yada yada, they just mean relays,” she waved him off, a plan starting to form in her head. “Don’t need that. We are not going back to the station, I swear to god.”

“Then, what?”

“We have like a sea of cars around here, I’ll just repurpose parts we need. I’m good at fixing things, so you get to watch me work.”

Leon briefly was fascinated at that, brows slowly rising and looking her up and down.

“Thank you, Inspector Gadget.”

“Not another word, I still am tempted to leave you here, Ben.”

Ben pretended to zip his lips up and throw away the key.

The FBI agent was forgotten for the moment.

Entering the dimly lit garage with Leon on the front as usual after letting him handle the radio call with Claire because it’d been his decision to take a detour, Vera navigated through the labyrinth of abandoned vehicles with him sticking close by, each one a potential source of goodies, her eyes scanning the surroundings, seeking out the car that might offer the salvaged parts necessary. It felt akin to trying to pick out the sweetest, best tasting watermelon. And after a few moments of contemplating, her gaze fell upon an old sedan tucked away in a corner, it seemed relatively intact compared to the others, which was always a good thing.

“That one,” she said, and Leon nodded, accompanying her.

She approached the vehicle, cautiously inspecting it, popping open the hood, revealing an engine compartment brimming with a network of wires and components.

Leon called out behind her, also leaning in a bit. “What do you need me to do?”

“Just stand guard. I’ll be finished in about five minutes.”

“That fast, huh?”

“Blink and you’ll miss it,” Vera said as she grasped the front of the car with both hands and fully got immersed, having no doubts about leaving the protection duty to Leon and giving all her attention to the car. Her experienced eyes navigated through the tangle, seeking out the wiring harness — a complex mesh of colorful cables that could potentially provide the necessary wires and connectors for the power panel.

Thankful that she’d packed her backpack with a trusty set of tools, Vera carefully removed the screws and clips that secured the wiring harness, and with delicate precision, she disconnected it from its points of attachment. Upon the successful extraction, she gently placed it on the ground and began examining it wire by wire. She searched for cables of the appropriate gauge and color that matched the damaged or missing wires within the power panel. As she identified suitable candidates, she carefully cut and separated them from the harness, ensuring she left enough length for future connections. The salvaged wires were then collected and secured with zip ties, creating a makeshift bundle.

Next, her attention was turned to the car's interior. She rummaged through the dashboard, searching for switches and buttons that resembled the ones she needed to replace. After some time, the spotting of a collection of well-preserved ones had her humming. With nimble fingers, she extracted the salvaged switches from their mounting points, taking care not to damage them. She inspected each switch, comparing them to the faulty ones she’d detected on the power panel, and carefully disconnected the corresponding wires.

Leon was watching, she could feel his eyes on her. “You sure you need to be watching me instead of the precinct?” She moved swiftly but deliberately, skillfully connecting the salvaged switches to the newly acquired wires from the car's harness.

The clicking around of his weapons were audible as he shifted around. “Well, whatever you’re doing is far more interesting.”

Vera would have said something clever in return, but she basically forgot to, making a noise instead, her mind telling her that she didn’t exactly have wire connectors lying around but did have tape for the next step, and she ensured each connection was secure, minimizing the risk of future failures.

Feeling a surge of excitement, she proceeded to the car's fuse box, a small compartment housing a myriad of fuses and relays. She analyzed each component, seeking replacements for that one little missing electrical part within the power panel and a fuse, and with a keen eye, she identified compatible ones, removing them, and finally, gathering all her salvaged components —a collection of wires, switches, and the fuse and relay— and carried them back to the power panel.

With steady hands, she began the meticulous process of connecting the wires, replacing the faulty switches, and integrating the other ones.

“Judging from your reaction, I don’t think she came this way yet, but still, have you seen a woman around here?” Vera asked as she worked on the wires, some lights coming on and the other ones going off. This was like a puzzle.

“No. Why? Is she a friend of yours?”

Vera’s hands halted working when Leon answered instead, observing his gloomy contemplation over her shoulder. “An FBI agent. We were hoping she could tell us what’s going on here.”

Vera shook her head ever so slightly when Ben met her gaze again, silently questioning.

“Mighty thin ice you’re treading on there,” he said, speaking to Leon but the words obviously meant for her. “You get one answer, three more questions pop up in its place.”

“Do you know something?”

He just threw Leon a tape recorder, and handed him his journal, obviously expecting to get them back right after a brief inspection. “It’s all I have, officer.”

Fear squeezed Vera’s heart, and she finished tinkering with the final electrical piece, aggressively mouthing, ‘What are you doing?’ at Ben while Leon couldn’t see, and the fucker just smugly shrugged. He was really doing this. Just sharing everything because it had all gone to hell anyway, but she didn’t want Leon or Claire getting involved in this any more than they did! They didn’t deserve to be burdened with the knowledge! Furthermore, Ben had no right distributing the intel she’d gathered all by herself, she hadn’t given him all her life’s worth of research and investigation to him so he could just toss it to anyone who asked!

One by one, the power panel came back to life, emitting a soft hum as electricity surged through its revived circuits. Lights flickered on, casting a cold white glow throughout the jail, while the low hum of machinery resumed its familiar chorus, and she heard Ben’s cell unlock.

But it wasn’t just his cell, as the other echoing buzzings told them, a shrill alarm going off, temporarily making all of them deaf — basically yelling: “They’re here, get’em!”

Leon’s face went pale, he pocketed the tape recorder and the journal hurriedly, readying Matilda. “Shit.”

The frozen panic of the moment shattered as the wall behind Ben exploded, fragments of debris showering the area. Crumbling masonry and swirling dust gave way to the ominous figure that emerged — a grotesque abomination they thought they left behind torn in half back at the lower levels of the orphanage, now draped in a tattered black trench coat. It was him. It was Mr. X.

Its immense, inhuman hand closed around Ben's face, effortlessly lifting him off the ground, rendering him weightless in its grasp. Vera felt like she was going to suffocate, adrenaline surging through his veins as Leon swiftly drew his firearm, his eyes scanning for a clear shot, but the chaotic scene unfolding before him denied him the opportunity. as Ben's agonized screams filled the air, echoing through the desolate corridor as he was flung around like a lifeless puppet, a pitiable plaything in the monstrous grip.

And then, the crushing force of the giant’s hand tightened, exerting an unimaginable pressure. Blood spurted, mingling with the grotesque sight of a single eye protruding between the gaps in its fingers, a macabre fusion of flesh and bone. Leon and Vera recoiled in horror, instinctively shielding themselves from the gruesome spectacle.

The lifeless body of Ben was unceremoniously discarded to the ground, a life extinguished in the blink of an eye. Vera couldn’t even react properly, mind blanked out once more.

And now fully aware of their presence, the revenant terror fixed its gaze upon Leon and Vera, its empty eyes void of any semblance of humanity. The intent to exterminate emanated from its menacing stance, casting a shadow of impending doom upon the trapped duo, behind them, the relentless horde of creatures blocked the only viable path of escape, closing in like a suffocating nightmare.

In a split second, Leon's training kicked in, overcoming horror faster than Vera did as he swiftly retrieved a flashbang from his belt. With a flick of his wrist, the blinding projectile sailed through the air, detonating in a burst of searing light and deafening sound. The brilliant flash momentarily disoriented the towering Mr. X, throwing off its balance and granting them a precious window of opportunity.

"Run!" Leon's urgent command pierced through the chaos as he seized Vera's hand, their fingers interlocking tightly. Blinded by the intense light, Vera stumbled forward, her senses overwhelmed as she relied on Leon's guidance, their bodies moving in synchronized desperation.

They navigated through the nightmarish maze of undead monstrosities, Leon deftly incapacitating a few with well-placed shots, momentarily stunning them with another flashbang and clearing a path. But there was no time for a meticulous elimination of each gruesome walking corpse. Their priority was survival, an all-consuming drive that pushed them forward.

The stench of decay assaulted Vera's nostrils, the putrid odor of rot permeating the air, making her eyes water and stomach churn. Hands reached out from the horde, their decaying fingers brushing against her skin, sending a shiver of revulsion down her spine. But she pressed on, anchored by Leon's unwavering presence to guide her through the suffocating mass of undead.

Heavy footsteps started thundering alarmingly fast behind them, and Vera felt like she could have a heart attack out of fear right then and there from the sheer levels of anxiety-inducing pace of the rapid booming coming right for her life.

Finally, they managed to burst through the threshold of the jail, bodies propelled into the very short-lived safety of the garage, adrenaline coursing through their veins as Mr. X was closing in.

“Shotgun,” Vera coughed with a crunchy, repulsive, garbage disposal-like sound, lungs burning with the exertion of the running and all the quick breathing, herself switching to the Lightning Hawk. “Bring out your shotgun, we need to make this fucker fall so we have time to get away!”

They began to back away from the door, creating a significant distance between themselves and the approaching menace, hearts pounding in their chests as they prepared themselves, hoping to bring down the relentless Mr. X.

With a thunderous crash, Mr. X tore the door off its hinges, his towering form crouching to fit through the doorway. Seizing the opportunity, Vera and Leon unleashed a barrage of gunfire, their weapons spitting out rounds in rapid succession — but he didn’t seem affected at all, that sculpted mask of a face remaining the same as he quickly marched forward —

But just as despair threatened to overwhelm her, a pivotal moment unfolded, Mr. X stumbled, falling to one knee, and in a moment that seemed both timely and miraculous, the revving of an engine cut through the chaos. A SWAT van came out of nowhere, hurtling toward Mr. X with unstoppable force, and Vera managed to pull Leon away to a safer distance just in time.

The impact was cataclysmic, the van slamming into the colossal abomination, unleashing a devastating blow. The wall crumbled beneath the tremendous impact, a cascade of brick and concrete tumbling to the ground. Through the haze of dust and debris emerged the enigmatic FBI agent, her sunglasses concealed her eyes, but her gaze was sharp and penetrating just as her body language and presence, it bore into Vera.

The FBI agent's frustration crackled in her voice as she snapped at them, the distinct sound of her heels clicking on the ground with an air of annoyance. "I told you to get out of here," she admonished. "This is getting old... saving your asses — that's twice."

Vera’s reflex was to make light of the situation — as if she didn’t just witness an acquaintance of hers she’d been working with quite a while now getting his brains squeezed like a wet sponge, as if it didn’t affect her at all, not in the slightest, but the nervous hollowness in her very being was there. “One for me, and now one for him, so can we call it even, Superagent?”

The woman vehemently responded, fed up with Vera, her voice raised. "This isn't a game!"

The moaning of crumpling metal rose from the van, an exaggerated mirror of a tin soda can being crushed as giant fingers emerged from the debris, clawing their way to freedom.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Leon seethed.

“Nothing dies down here,” the FBI agent complained, almost in a childish manner, like it was some video game she was playing that was impossible to beat, making her frustrated. Without hesitation, she retrieved a remote from her pocket and pressed a button. The ensuing explosion engulfed the remains of the SWAT van, reducing it to a chaotic mess of twisted metal and billowing smoke, the deafening blast echoing through the garage, momentarily silencing all other sounds, the wreckage smoldering afterwards.

Such an action hero move.

Leon was as amazed as Vera was, genuine admiration in both their faces, starstruck by how the agent made it look so effortless. “Maybe a warning next time?”

The woman’s visible expression remained stoic, unaffected by their amazement. With a turn of her head, she scanned the surroundings, her attention focused on the aftermath of the encounter. "There isn't a next time," she replied with a touch of finality. "I have more pressing matters to attend to than getting you two out of trouble."

“Like Ben Bertolucci? You came here to meet with him, didn’t you?” He motioned towards the remains of the demolished wall and the wreckage, taking Vera by surprise with the on-point observation that made total sense. “He’s gone. This guy took him out.”

The vivid scene replayed in Vera’s mind the second he mentioned it, and she had to shut her eyes and regain her composure to not sway where she stood.

The agent remained silent, seemingly expressionless, but buried in an exasperated disappointment.

So he was right. He’d figured it out.

“We just might have what you need from him,” Leon took out the tape recorder, clearly intent on obtaining the information he desired from the very beginning. “But only if you’ll tell us the truth.”

#leon kennedy x oc #leon s kennedy x oc #leon s. kennedy x oc #resident evil oc #oc: vera kaplan #story: gravedigger #era: no time to die #if you know about mechanics please overlook the car part i tried 💀

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