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Part I: African Princess
Pairings/Characters: Leon S. Kennedy/Sheva Alomar
Rating PG-13
Words: 1329
Summary: The government sends Kennedy not only to investigate but to help Miss Alomar return order to her country, in more ways than one. This is only part 1/2.
It is his first time, stepping on African soil, smelt the almost-too-hot and dry breeze that sucked into his lungs, making him remember citrus trees and sliced lemons, mixed in with the spiced rum; and if Africa could smell of metal, it would be lined with the riches of gold, sparkled and dried in the constant summer sun.
He steps off the plane, wearing only a white short-sleeved shirt buttoned up, a pair of khaki shorts, lightly tanned. He is reminded of how his legs, despite the hard work of exercise and run and training, are too white for his taste. But this isn't going to be vacation, at least not yet, not until he can manage to put the citizens at ease and find out what the hell is going on. All for the sake of the U.S. government, and their relations to keep everything in tip-top shape; he is the diplomat and the trained agent sent in to discover the remains of what happened.
He is to be greeted by a woman, named Sheva Alomar, and by the looks of her file, she is a competent BSAA agent for the West African Branch. She is waiting by the gate, already lined with photographers come to see, to find out about the latest hot headline news to tantalize the readers, to gasp the audience and the woo the world of the incredible virus that has taken the world by storm; the journalists who have heard of the outbreak in Kijuju, their professional camera lights flashing, even in this white-hot heat. There are bodyguards there, to keep things in order, but even Kennedy could see that she is a woman who exudes confidence and there is a special charm about her.
He notices what she wears: a purple sleeveless shirt accentuating her curvy body, and he tries to think of something else, because he can't help that she is beautiful—and the photo next to her file did not do her justice. She, in the living flesh is, if in a different time would be considered an African Princess. Her hug-fitting tanned pants held black straps of where her weapon is held, and because she is part of the BSAA; part of what happened to keep Kijuju in balance, she is able, like the security guards to hold on to her weapon.
When he approaches closer, it is her who comes up with her hand extending, "Leon ? Hello, I'm Sheva Alomar, welcome to Africa."
It is the usual way she approaches everyone, how she greets, that same confidence and the smile she extends, telling the greeter that she is friendly and cooperative. Leon smiles back, feeling welcomed, taking her softer hands in his, "Hello, nice to meet you," he looks around, "I see that the press has been busy here."
She rolls her eyes, with a dimpled smile, "Yes, we tried to keep things quiet, but," she shrugs one soft round shoulder, "but the situation was and has been getting out of hand. We took down your old nemesis, Albert Wesker, which takes a big chunk of the problem," they were now walking side by side, passing through the throng of people who were still taking snapshots of the couple. The security guards pushing them back.
When he went through baggage check, she waits for him, until he finishes all the security checks needed to get through. It isn't, as he thinks, too bad, and unlike the U.S., it isn't lined with thousands of tourists coming from every country, the airport is filled with guards everywhere. He remembers another time, with Claire Redfield, where the incident in Harvardville had broken out. He hopes, what Miss Alomar says, about Wesker is true. And he glances over to her, picking up his lone baggage, with only the necessities in it.
"That's good to hear. I can't believe it," he shakes his head, "You and Chris Redfield single-handedly finally put that psycho in his place," making a scoffing noise, "last I heard from him was back in Spain. The man gets around."
Sheva shows her ID tag before passing through the final gate and going out with Kennedy into the hot blistering heat, "Yes, but I'm afraid that it wasn't just me and Chris who took care of that monster. Jill Valentine, and my dearest old friend and mentor Josh Stone helped; they were the rescuers. So, I give them credit. Without them, we wouldn't be here. Wesker was," she takes a deep breath, "a tough son-of a bitch."
He nods, very much understanding her experience, and how it must have been. "I bet. He evaded me in Spain, but my mission there wasn't about him, but was to rescue the President's daughter, among other things."
He turns to her, "About Valentine. How is Jill?" He has heard about the supposed 'death' of Jill Valentine, through the government files: her death presumed and Chris Redfield, Claire's brother had taken it very hard. He can only imagine what kind of sick hell the poor girl had gone through with Wesker, enslaving her to be a super soldier.
"She's doing great; actually, she will be glad you asked about her." She is smiling again, "Would you like to go directly to the facility or are you tired from your trip? I know it is a long trip from where you were at to here, and the accommodation for you is just a few miles from here. I have procured a driver for us to get there." She glances over to the taxi that pulls into the sidewalk, along the yellow zoned line.
"I'll be fine, I've been in worse situations; take me to the facility if you like," He is already at the door, opening it for her. He can't help it, because he tries to be the gentleman and hopes she doesn't take offense at the kind gesture. She doesn't. Her face is filled with that beautiful smile and her eyes sparkle like brown rich coffee.
The ride to the facility is a pleasant one, Leon thinks, sitting next to Alomar, and even in this heat, he realizes how much he like this weather than the one he remembers in Harvardville and especially the one that kept him chilled to the bone in Spain.
"Your country is beautiful," he tells her, after they discuss a few things about the Uroborus and Wesker's demise, "it reminds me of," he laughs, "don't make fun of me, but, it reminds me of something citrus, sweet yet, not so sweet and the spices in the air…"
"I'm glad Africa reminds you of something pleasant to the scents. Unfortunately, this part of the district hasn't been touched by the perils of Uroboros, and you'll see as we drive down several miles, towards the facility, you'll smell smoke and other not-so pleasant smells." Her face is nostalgically sad, even when she turns away, looking out the window.
"I'm sorry," he says this with an impulse, knowing that she might need some kind of reassurance, maybe a little- especially in light of what she went through.
"Oh don't worry, things have been looking up. Chris Redfield has helped tremendously, coming here, and I was to help alleviate the tensions because he is an American."
"Like myself?" He says aloud, couldn't stop himself.
"Yes, but his presence has eased much, and you, Agent Kennedy,"
"Leon."
"Leon." She nods, smiling bright, "and since his tremendous help, many of the natives aren't as aggressive towards Americans as much, unless it is towards the touristy kind." She gives him a wink.
They've reached the facility, the smoke furling out of the rounded cone-like chimneys, the windows barred for fear of hostile natives and the structure held two stories high, the colour is garishly grey and the patchwork from the paint has been peeled off. Inside, he is greeted with up-to date modern technology and a few researchers in white laboratory coats pass by.