Tonight on this rainy evening, Leon S. Kennedy sat in a corner of the Indian Cafe. It was an antique place, a place that was in dire need of remodelling. The local was the epitome of decadence, between the beaten furniture mixed in with the aged psychedelic wallpaper and framed pictures of unknown people that were hung on the walls. It seemed the owners were stuck in the past, or too poor to cure the local of it`s ailments.
The cafe`s heating was acting up. The few customers were forced to wear their outdoor gear indoors. So Leon donned his casual winter jacket, concealed underneath was his bullet-proof vest complete with handgun. On the exterior Leon, could pass off as a local, a very good looking local. The agent wore a black wool T-shirt, complete with dark denim and boots, a small variation of his usual mission attire. Leon had driven over, in a beaten red pick up. Courtesy of the government impoundments garage, a vehicle he chose to blend in with the the rest of the clientèle A demographic that consisted of the rare wayfarer, some gruff truckers but mostly homeless. The Indian Cafe, which teetered on empty apparently never refused anyone regardless if they had funds or not.
Management apologized and thanked clients for their patronage in this difficult time, by giving gourmet cappuccinos on the house. Despite the small teeth-chattering inconvenience the agent declined the offer of Coffee. He wasn't one to eat or drink on the job, especially in such a location and where he couldn't see his food being prepared. He was on guard, and ready for anything and everything. Waiting like a lion for his prey, Leon observed in a calculated manner for anyone suspicious, both indoors and outdoors. The agent was prepared to jump through rings of fire, to halt any potential B.O.W operations.
He was tipped off by Ada, that a third party other than her usual contractors would be making a transaction here. All she had done was left a memo in Leon`s apartment. It contained the coordinates, a short explanation of the circumstances and a lip imprint which was her signature. This small tip, was enough to make Leon catch the next jet to Idaho, specifically the middle of nowhere. There where alot of aspects of their odd relationship, but dishonesty was not usually part of it . Ada never lied to Leon, she only withheld information. And when she handed it over, Leon was sure to be the first investigating it.
Hunnigan had come up with nothing in her search, so Leon decided to scout the area himself against her wishes. While Hunnigan relentlessly continued searching for information, other than public records of the local. The agent was in this isolated local, those only highlight was the forest view infront of it. He wasn't exactly sure what to expect, he was hoping Ada would make one of her mysterious apparitions to explain more or a call from Hunnigan. So in the meanwhile he pretended to be mildly interested in a crossword puzzle from the local newspaper.
Silvia as her name tag read, walked right up to Leon`s table. The middle-aged waitress had an forced smile plastered on her face, she smelt of mothballs . A stench that originated from her starch pink uniform, it looked uncomfortable. "Hello there Sir, here's a cup on the house...We apologize for the inconvenience " She set the unwelcomed cup on the table. Leon politely shook his head and nudged the cup, to indicate his disinterest in enjoying coffee. "No thank-you." He simply nodded. The waitress pursed her lips, and fought back an eye roll. This was the second time the man was offered a coffee. Why couldn't he just accept it?!
"So sugar, what brings you to this far neck of the woods?" She sweetly asked.
"Oh just stopping by for the scenery." he said as he phantom-mimed a camera with his hands. "Ah so you`re like a wildlife photographer no?" Silvia asked as she collected the refused cup. Leon could feel all the eyes in the room glaring at him. "What`s your name again sugar? Are ya sure you don`t want anything?" She asked a bit too panicky for Leon`s taste. "Well a beer would be nice," he shrugged as he looked at her "and it`s Leon." Silvia nodded in return, and she walked away with a smile.
Leon sat waiting for about 20 minutes, it seemed eternal. With his peripheral vision, he could see people staring at him. These people would also advert their eyes when he met theirs. The cook was the only one who maintained eye contact, he did so while sharpening a butcher knife. The cook reminded Leon , of a militia ganado he faced in Spain...The heavy one with the machine gun..It seemed they didn't take well to strangers. It was a very odd atmosphere, and frankly Leon was starting to get antsy. The agent could already sense something was off. He got up from his seat, and started walking to the door.
"Wait! Where are you going? It`s raining! I`m bringing you your beer!" Silvia called out from behind the bar, as she slapped her tray on the counter. "I forgot something in my truck." Leon waved at her as pushed open the exit door.
"I`ll be back." he asserted...