Disclaimer: I don't own anyone you recognize from the games.

Author's note: This little scribble has a history. You see, it started when I decided to do a RE meme on DeviantART. This particular meme includes the question "You're infected with the T-virus. What happens to you?" and in the process of answering that question, I created not only a new creature but a backstory to go with it- hence, this.

And why Leon? Because I loved his response to Ashley's "No way, Leon!"

Predator

Leon Kennedy wished he knew how he kept getting himself into these situations.

After the whole fiasco in Spain with the Los Illuminados, he had made a quick stop at the White House to drop off Ashley, stand there and smile with an occasional nod through the whole speech of debt of gratitude, asset to the country, receiving a commendation, blah blah blah. Those were peachy and all, but the real reward was waiting for him in his little one-bedroom apartment.

He slept for eighteen hours when he got back home, interrupted only by the need to take care of certain bodily functions and the occasional hazy nightmare- one didn't survive two events like those and come out of it mentally unscathed, after all. A few days later he received another call from the President and his daughter, checking up on him to make sure he was all right. He didn't know how much the President knew of what had really happened, nor did he really care. Now that Ashley was no longer his responsibility, he could finally focus on himself- he was underweight, dehydrated, and malnourished from the adventure, never mind the borderline extreme exhaustion he was feeling when he got back to the states. It was the first time in what felt like ages he could relax, and he was taking full advantage of that.

It was a week later he got another call, this one not from the White House. Strange reports had been coming in around a forest in Montana- people in the area were disappearing, and some were hearing strange sounds. It was suspected Umbrella had something to do with it. They wanted him to check it out.

"You're the best one for the job," they had reasoned after he had uttered the words 'Oh HELL no'. "You've dealt with Umbrella before and you know what they can dish out. You'd be the most prepared."

He didn't bother pointing out that nobody could be prepared for what the twisted minds at Umbrella could dish out- they wouldn't have listened anyway. And so he found himself once again creeping down dark hallways, tightly clutching a loaded gun and feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He swore to himself that after this one he would demand a very early retirement.

Then again, he reasoned after watching the headless body of a zombie crumble to the ground, if he didn't go, they'd end up sending somebody else to check out the problem- and the poor shmuck would probably end up eaten.

So long as that "poor shmuck" wasn't him.

He had found some offices higher up in the underground complex- meaning closer to ground level- and had found the office inhabitants, who he quickly disposed of to save his own skin, and some very interesting documents. Apparently the head honcho of the complex- a certain man named Wesker- had gotten his hands on a sample of the virus used in Spain. With it, and a sample of Umbrella's earlier viruses, the purpose of the lab was to make a mixture of them: one that would create the mutations of the earlier viruses, but would be able to control the hosts, like the one from the Los Illuminados. After many initial failures, they found a combination that didn't kill the host completely, and so they tested it on human subjects. Most of these were reduced to drooling, moaning zombies that weren't very useful for being controlled. A select few, however, turned into something else, and research continued. However, when it came time to test how well they could be controlled… Well, there was a reason the employees were seeking live flesh to chew on.

However, it seemed that even in a place like this there was some ray of hope. The breakout had been so sudden he had even found some documents still sitting in the printers- much to his surprise, though, some weren't company documents. Rather, three of the sheets he had picked up were a log of six survivors- people who were kidnapped for the experiments that had been on the lab tables, awaiting their dose of the virus when the outbreak occurred. There was a grand total of three pages so far; the first page recounted the identity of the six- who they were, what they did, any family they had- while the other two retold the horrors they faced trying to reach the surface and escape the complex. According to the last page he had read, there were still three of the six left- the first to go had apparently received their "treatment" before the outbreak, and had succumbed to the virus before long. He could only guess what had happened to the other two; he presumed the three survivors found it too horrible to retell.

He tucked these into his pocket with the official documents. The families of these people will need to be contacted. He had been hoping this wouldn't turn into another escort mission, but he couldn't just leave the three survivors to wander in an attempt to escape. He would have to help them.

That had been some time ago. He had found more documents since then- especially helpful was the roster of "volunteers" he had found after blasting away one of the more successful experiments. There was no sign of Ada anywhere- whether that was a good thing or not, he was still trying to decide.

Most of the lights overhead were broken, turning the hallway ominously dark. The once stainless steel was spattered with blood- pooled in some places- and the only thing he could hear was the steady drip, drip of water somewhere and his own deliberately quiet footsteps. So far, there was a lack of creatures, which- of all things- disturbed him a little bit. They were plentiful elsewhere in the complex, but for some reason they were scarce here. But why?

Seeing light flickering, he diverted his attention. The light was coming from a small window in a nearby door. Ducking into the shadow, he cautiously approached the door and peered in.

One of remaining lights inside was sputtering, another one remaining on. It seemed to be another one of the researcher's stations- papers were scattered all over the desk, and a computer stared blankly into the muted darkness as it waited for someone to use it. Nothing was moving inside.

Regardless, he proceeded with caution, nudging open the door slowly as he stuck his gun in the room first, keeping his eyes and ears peeled for any movement that would give away the presence and location of anything inside. Once he was completely inside- and there was still nothing trying to eat him- he lowered the gun and moved towards the computer screen.

It was a document, but not one of the official kinds. Apparently, the survivors had been here. And where the survivors had been, there was usually a printed log of their adventure in the nearest printer.

Looking around, he located the printer nearby and looked inside the tray. Sure enough, there was a sheet of paper inside, waiting.

But something wasn't right. All the other sheets were facing print-down when he found them; this one was print-up. Meaning someone else had handled it before him.

Casting another wary glance around the room, he cautiously reached out and picked it up. When nothing happened- he was half-expecting something to explode or jump out at him- he looked at it.

The first thing he noticed was small spots on the paper where there had once been moisture of some kind, but had dried. This had caused the ink to blur, at some spots to the point where the words were unrecognizable. The spots were small- about a drop of water each- and a thin film had settled over each one. Now curious, he read it.

I'm the last one. Everyone else is dead, or worse.

I didn't want to die this way. Not down here, in some Godforsaken (He guessed this word was supposed to be "hellhole") surrounded by zombies and mutations and (this word was too blurry to read) I never wanted this for myself; I was supposed to settle down and live out the rest of my life…

If anyone alive finds this, I'm begging you- get out of here, find the police, and have this place destroyed. If not for me, then for the sake of all mankind. If these things find their way through to the surface, there's no telling the damage that could be done. So many people would die…

Tell my family that I love them and that no matter what they may hear, DON'T come looking for me. And (there was apparently a name here, but the only thing that could be identified was the beginning "F")- I'm so sorry I never came back; I've missed you so much since that day, and now that I'm going to die I just wish… I love you; don't ever forget that.

Oh God. There's one outside… I only have five bullets left- I'm going to be eaten, and there's no way I can avoid it. I consider these my final words. God help us all.

There was the name of the lone survivor and a date at the bottom. He recognized the name from the first page- one of the two women of the group. The date was three days before he got the call. He gently touched the film left behind on the paper and observed what had stuck to his finger. It was very hard to see, but it appeared to be almost white. Tentatively, he brought it to his mouth and tasted it. It was salty. She had been crying when she picked up the paper, probably to read it over and delay the inevitable. Not that he could blame her- she was a regular young adult thrown unwillingly into this mess, and was now going through it alone.

Was she still alive? He had to find out and get her out of here. Tucking the sheet of paper with the rest of them, he searched the room for anything useful, finding nothing. He was done here.

He left the same way he entered- gun first, listening and watching closely for a sign of carnivorous beasts. Again, eerie silence answered him. Fully leaving the office, he peered further down the hallway. Nothing.

Making his way down the stainless steel, he kept a sharp eye on his surroundings- not just for anything that might be trying to eat him, but for any sign that the girl might have survived this long. Without provisions, it was highly unlikely. But he wasn't about to just assume her dead.

About twenty feet further down the hall he noticed a small black object in a pool of red. Cautiously approaching, he kneeled beside it to get a closer look.

It was a small handgun, sitting in a dried puddle of blood; with it were scraps of what appeared to be denim- possibly the remains of someone's jeans- and other bits of cloth, as well as a sheared belt with a holster- which was empty, naturally- and pouch. He emptied the magazine of the gun to find only two bullets. Better than nothing, he supposed, and moved on to the pouch. He was expecting it to be empty, but when he reached inside he was a little surprised to feel his fingers brush against something. Pulling it out, he held it up and inspected it.

It was a necklace, with a dainty silver chain and an ornament composed of three small pearls arrayed around an even smaller diamond. The chain was snapped near the latch- probably why the owner wasn't wearing it when they were attacked. Perhaps he'll be able to return it to their family when this was over.

Pocketing the items, he rose to his feet and looked around again before continuing. Aside from finding the lone survivor, his mission seemed pretty basic- gather more info, find the self-destruct device, activate it, and beat feet out of there. Easier said than done, of course.

The hallway abruptly turned left, and he followed that corridor until it branched off to his right. Glancing down where the hallway continued- it was a pretty good guess it finished off the square the hallways seemed to make- so he took the branch off.

This one was just as dark and gory as the others, and just as silent. He treated it the same way, carefully listening for any movement. It disturbed him that there was a lack of zombies in this area. Not that he wasn't grateful for the respite from the constant aiming, shooting, and reloading. He just couldn't shake off the thought that zombies weren't smart enough to avoid an area for any reason- and that meant that something was killing them off. And not just killing- he wasn't seeing any with holes in their heads or any limbs laying around. Other than smears of blood, he wasn't finding traces of them.

He really didn't like where that train of thought kept going.

A faint sound reached his ears, and he stopped. There it was- the telltale moaning. This was the first he had heard from a zombie in a while. Now, to confront it or to just watch and see what happens to it? There had to be a reason why this particular section was devoid of the undead- and if it was that much of a threat, he probably needed to know about it.

Keeping to the shadows, he crept as quietly as he could, trying to will his heart to stop beating so loudly. The hallway turned right up ahead- the sound was coming from there- and so he quickly moved to the other side of the corridor he was in so he could peek around the corner. Once there he crouched down in the darkness, his eyes widely dilated as he peered cautiously into the space beyond.

It was easy to spot. A flickering light from a room down the hall sporadically lit up a small part of the area as it filtered through the window in the door. The zombie had apparently been one of the scientists that worked in the complex, as it wore a tattered lab coat spotted with blood- primarily around the waist, as that was where the bites had been taken from. It was just standing there, facing his direction and rocking just a little bit, looking for all the world like it was trying to determine where to go next.

Leon didn't move. He barely dared to breathe, instead waiting with abated breath as the seconds ticked by. Fortunately, he didn't have to wait for long.

Like lightning, a tawny and clawed hand shot out from the darkness, catching the zombie by the legs and sending it to the floor with a guttural sound. Arms moved to push itself back up, and Leon held in a gasp as it was suddenly dragged into the shadows, chipped nails dragging on the steel floor as it moaned. There was a slight hissing sound from the darkness after it disappeared from sight, followed by a loud and stomach-churning crack. The moaning abruptly stopped.

He remained still as he heard the zombie getting dragged away. Did he want to follow? No, not really. Should he follow? Yes, probably. The creature had been taking out zombies- something he never saw any of the other mutations do- meaning it was a considerable threat. He was better off finding out while he was still unknown rather than finding out while he's trying to fight it off. Time to brush up on his recon skills…

He waited until the sound of the zombie being dragged faded a bit more before quickly moving to the next shadow, waiting until the sound faded a bit more, then continued on to the next shadow. He knew now that whatever it was, it was a predator, and he didn't want to risk being seen or heard. So he followed that pattern, choosing caution over speed- he noticed a fresh trail of smeared blood left behind where the zombie was dragged, so it would be easy to find it again.

The hallway turned left, and the trail was quickly dwindling to nothing. Over that, he couldn't really hear it anymore. But if he'd screw up, he'd rather err on the side of caution. So he didn't speed up or change his strategy.

Which left him in a bit of a spot when the hallway came to a T. The creature either went to the left or to the right- the trail was gone and so was the sound of the zombie being dragged away, so he had no way to determine which. Mentally flipping a coin, he decided to go right.

It took him an hour to search the hallway and all the rooms in it; he found some more ammo and a key card he would probably need later, but that was it. No sign of the zombie or the creature. He went the wrong way.

Well, wouldn't be the first time. He doubled back and went down the hall he was supposed to. If he was lucky, he probably had missed out on whatever the creature was doing to the zombie- eating it, was his guess. Not something he really wanted to watch.

It was almost another hour of searching room-by-room, returning to "cautious mode" but not really expecting to find it. It was like it had disappeared. He went through office after office, lab after lab, and found some more ammo and a nice automatic piece, but no sign of the creature. He'd really like to know how it managed this…

Finally, he reached the last office. He discovered he didn't need to nudge open the door, since it already was. Entering gun-first, he cautiously looked around- computer terminals lined most of the walls, making him guess this was a command center of sorts. The computers turned the room into a U-shape, with a branch of computers jutting into the middle of the room. A lone light was working overhead. Most of the computers were working, but he either didn't understand what they did or didn't care. Nothing was moving. Relaxing a little bit, he lowered the gun and walked over to the other side of the room-

- Only to stop dead in his tracks, his eyes widening.

Hiding behind the branch of computer terminals was what he could only describe as a nest, made out of mounds of various scraps of cloth (a large amount of them seeming to be from the remains of lab coats) and an occasional bone. There was a ridge of cloth tucked in the back-most corner, forming an "inner nest" where he saw five creatures nestled. The largest was tawny in color- matching the clawed hand he saw earlier- and was mostly humanoid in shape, save the long tail that had sprouted from the lower back. Its lower half was on its left side, while the front was face down, the arms bracing it up just a little. Dirty, dishwater blonde hair was swept back, falling over muscled shoulders. The muzzle bulged out in an almost animalistic way. The tattered remains of a shirt- gray and dirty now- clung around the chest, the creature obviously female. Likewise, there seemed to be underwear of sorts on the lower half, likewise tattered around the edges. The prominent brow was furrowed as blank, white eyes seemed to burn into him in a glare. The mouth was open just enough for him to see the sharp, bloodstained teeth underneath. She was growling at him- warning him to stay away- and it was easy to see why. Nestled in the curve she had originally formed when she was resting were four smaller versions of herself. They varied in skin and hair tone- one of them having almost black hair- and one had awoken, peering up at him with equally white eyes, its front limbs hanging over the tail of its mother, which had moved to curl around the bunch protectively.

Babies.

He had just noticed the bones resting near the babies when the growling intensified, and he realized it was time to get out. Crouching down to make himself smaller, he slowly backed away, an old saying of his grandfather's about mother bears echoing in his head. "I'm going," he said softly as he continued to retreat. The growling continued, but she didn't pursue him. Once he was out of sight behind the computers he turned and booked it out of the room, not stopping until he made it to the office where he had found the sheet of the last survivor- if she had changed her mind about not chasing him, he didn't want to give her a chance to catch up. As it was, his mind was still reeling a bit as he leaned against the wall near the door.

Babies.

Had she been pregnant before she was mutated, and the virus changed both her and the embryo? Or had Umbrella created a creature that could breed? Breeding monsters… the very thought sent a chill down his spine.

The bones near the babies had gnaw marks in them- The kids are teething, came the thought in his mind- and there was no doubt that those bones were from the zombie he had watched her take down.

His eyes came to rest on the computer screen, which was still on and waiting, and something in his mind clicked. The creature had dishwater blonde hair…

Quickly, he dug into his pockets, fishing out the roster he had found earlier and flipped the numerous pages. It contained a brief bio of each person, including name, age, ethnicity, percent body fat, color of eyes and hair, an assigned experiment number, and a color photo. Walking to the computer, at the same time he quickly scanned the names on the roster, waiting for one to look familiar. He paused briefly to look at the name on the bottom of the last log on the computer before resuming his search. She had to be in there somewhere…

Bingo. Right there. Quickly, he looked at her photo, tilting the paper towards the functioning light. Frightened and angry blue/green eyes looked back at him, her arms being held by black-gloved hands to hold her still. Her dishwater blonde hair was disheveled. It matched the hair on the creature.

Damnit- he was too late!

With a sigh, he moved to put the papers away, but then something else caught his eye. Holding it up again, he peered closely at the picture.

A delicate silver chain was hanging around her neck, three pearls and a diamond suspended at the bottom.

He fished for the treasure in his pocket and pulled it out, comparing it to the one in the picture. They were the same.

So that dried-up puddle of blood down the hall was hers. She had gotten only three shots at her attacker before the end. It probably wasn't long after that she mutated into that thing and had babies. There was no mention of her being pregnant on the roster; then again, they probably didn't bother to check. He earnestly hoped she was pregnant before she was infected- it sounded cruel, but the alternative was much worse.

The End?

Author's notes: So not only did I write that, but I also have a boss fight death and an... ah, "alternate ending" as well, if you'd be interested in reading it. I can post them in separate chapters for you guys and everything. Let me know what you think.