Chapter 1. "Prologue."
'How long are we going to keep doing this?'
The question that never left his mind. Enough already.
He grew tired from everything
Leon S. Kennedy sat near the window, lost in thoughts about the world. He was in his good friend's house in the countryside, spending some time off.
Or more like attempting to spend time off.
It'd been a month since the incident with Glenn Arias. He just needed some peace, and Claire was kind enough to call and invite him over.
Her garden is an enchanted one, he couldn't deny.
It's wide and open, sloping gently down to a cosmic-blue river. A grove of cypress pines flanks them on one side, and a thicket of peaceful beeches standing guard on the other.
Apple trees ran through the center of the garden, casting a lake of clawed shadows onto the grass.
In autumn, the fiery brilliance of their leaves is quite a sight: scorching-oranges, burning-browns and molten-reds.
Then they drift to the ground as silently and carelessly as an ash cloud, settling into their eternal rest.
Past the river, there was a plush-green meadow that stretched away into the vastness. A dragon-backed mountain oversaw it all.
"I was lucky my aunt gave me this place. I needed to be alone; in seclusion, just to find peace after everything that happened with Alex." Claire came in and spoke, getting his attention.
Claire Redfield, younger sister of Chris, a former S.T.A.R.S member, had been living in her aunt's residence, far away from the city lights.
All those noises.
It helped her grow and forget.
Now, of course, she wasn't completely toned up in her muscle, but she was still very much athletic; balanced to a feminine pinnacle. She wore a grey shirt and frumpy, acid-washed jeans.
Her brown hair is short now, and touches her cheeks. A change of appearance was needed.
Leon sighed, his head resting on his palm. "Thanks Claire, but I won't stay long."
Claire sat on the couch and just stared at him for a moment.
How much has time changed him? She still remembered the easy-going cop that just wanted to help.
The one she lost.
It was an unspoken truth. Maybe it wasn't meant to be for her, she knew he wasn't looking for anything.
Still, she didn't forget their experiences, and once she heard of his problems, it took so much of her strength to stay put. To not run there to him, her heart racing.
"Aw, don't say that." Claire said. "You need some time off from it all. We all do. You're more than welcome to stay here until you feel better."
He sighed and just kept his eyes focused on the view outside.
The gentle air kissed his face ever so often.
Claire's expression shifted into sadness. It does pain her to see him like this, and the worst part of it was she couldn't do much to help.
"I'll make you some coffee." She stated flatly, and left the living room.
Left awkward silence.
Left him at peace.
Leon drowned himself inside his mind. There was a time when he was happy and carefree, a time where he had so many plans for what looked like a bright future.
All of them burned up in Raccoon City.
The truth is, he'd do anything to turn back time and just be somewhere else.
He'd give anything to go back to a sense of normalcy.
The man took one final look at a long tree, close to the river.
"Huh . . . ?" He rubbed his eyes to make sure about what he was seeing.
There was a woman standing near it.
A woman with long, greying raven hair that reached her mid back, wearing a dark blue dress.
And she was waving at him.
Leon choked in his throat for a moment. For that figure belonged to his mother.
Words wouldn't describe how much he missed her.
"M- . . . Mom?" Leon called shakily.
After some hesitance, he leaped out the open window. I mean, he could've used the door, but he wasn't feeling right.
The woman turned, walking down past the river out of sight.
Leon felt pulled to her.
He glanced one last time at the cozy living room, wondering if he should call out to Claire and tell her?
But there was no time to waste.
He jogged down the path.
"Mother! Wait!" He rounded a dirt path to the left, and, out of nowhere, everything changed.
Snow was falling heavily, and the air grew cold.
He was someplace else; no how, no why, nowhere near Claire's house. He could tell that much at least.
Before him stood rows and rows of nameless gravestones.
It had no resemblance the place he was before.
On the ground, brown, dead grass covered the scarred lands. The only tree's were leafless, tearing at the sky with their gloomy, spindly branches.
'Where am I? How did I reach this place to begin with?'
The area was a fenced courtyard, but all round him was effectively empty, save for the tombs.
Ahead, past the hollow headstones, were a set of double doors. Though he could see around, a house . . . No, a mansion, lined with a balcony and windows, encompassed him.
He stepped forward, clutching the pistol in his belt.
You never know.
Tiny candles lit up the opposing sides of the doorway, hung on black cast iron. He reached for the handle and pulled.
The door opened by itself, and inside was a dim, silent hallway.
On the floor was a glow.
An object of some sort, shining at him, begging for his attention.
He stepped inside, finding shelter from the cold, and reached down.
The glow vanished, leaving behind a solid black object, so he picked it up.
It was a flashlight. Old but reliable.
"Who's is this? Where the hell is this place? What the hell is this place." Leon wondered aloud.
There was a split partition screen in front of him.
The room continued left or right.
It was silent.
Almost peaceful . . . till the silence was broken with the sound of a raspy breath.
It seemed as though a man was having an asthma attack somewhere.
Leon's eyes darted around.
He could see no one.
Focusing his eyes, he suddenly saw it up ahead, shocked. A man stood with his back turned, and his shoulders rose and fell quickly.
"Don't move! Who are you?" He yelled, then asked his question with a bated breath, "What is this place . . . ? Answer me!"
However, the man evaporated within a blink of an eye.
Leon felt his own heart begin to beat faster and faster, slamming his rib cage.
A ghost?
Was that even possible?
He turned left, sneaking down another hall, hidden in a shadow. Taking a right when that path ended, he had to go up several steps. The stairwell led into the main part of the greatroom.
Ahead were rows of shelves, the tiny, sliding white doors broken and crumbling.
Nothing was too useful there. In fact, nothing seemed very useful in telling him about this place.
Ahead was another flight, and he could see up into the room above.
To the left was a roped off door.
To the right was the part of the room surrounded by the partition screen.
Near where he stood was a little Buddhist altar.
"What the . . ." He said, noting the out-of-place object.
'What is this? Claire never told me of an old shrine. Does she even know about this old place?'
He looked past the steps, and saw a long and dark hallway.
Dust swirled around the beam of the flashlight.
He stepped forward and a figure appeared in the dark hall.
Leon knew who it was, he would recognize her anywhere no matter what.
"Mom!"
He dashed forward after her, but she fled from him.
Leon took the left turn.
Ahead was a solid wood door, and to the right, the hall branched. He charged through the entry ahead.
"Mom?!"
He called out again, not really sure what to expect her to say.
Where have you been? It was all a nightmare? Are you okay, sweetheart?
On the left wall was a large mirror that was built into the hallway, stretching down the corridor. At the end, the hall twisted off one way, then made a sharp, impossible left.
It felt as though the hall curved back in on itself, there wasn't really a rhyme or reason.
He heard the sound of infected female breathing. Still his eyes could see no trace of any humans, leaving him on edge.
Leon ceased running, but cautiously resumed creeping down the hall.
Snow was falling through the roof. Frigid air blew by, whisked through the holes.
He observed the source to be a hole in the roof.
The snow filled the starlight sky.
It looked odd. Everything was correct, but . . .
"Blood! More blood! MORE!" Leon heard a man scream.
The agent spun around and saw a priest running at him with a raised, bloody cleaver.
He screamed and fired twice.
Right before his eyes, the bullets passed through his body like they just kept hitting oxygen. There was no resistance at all.
The priest slammed the knife down, intent on slashing his chest open.
Leon had a quick reaction, however. So he ducked down, the knife slightly catching the top of his head.
It scraped more than it cut.
Leon pushed himself forward, running away from the ghoulish cleric. Red veins pulsating to the surface of it's face, and the fiend's eyes burned like the devil's.
Another fork in the road, this time one way led to a door, the other led to more stairs.
The right direction's been good to him in the past. He scrambled up the stairs, pumping his legs as hard as they would go.
Priest followed, dicing at him with the bloody weapon ever so often.
Leon crashed through the door at the top, and suddenly fell outside. The abrupt exposure to the cold didn't register with him immediately.
He pulled himself forward a little to kick the door closed, hoping that the stranger wouldn't come out to try and gut him for whatever reason.
His breaths slowed down a bit.
Cursing silently.
He really needed the break with Claire. Too bad it got cut short.
'It doesn't make sense.' he thought. 'T-they have to be ghosts, there isn't anything that can physically do that. Am I . . . ?'
His mind frantically surged back and forth between the sight of the priest's face, the monstrous holy man running his way, and the bullets phasing through.
His greatest fear was to be put in a situation where he was unable to defend himself.
Leon couldn't bear the thought. Surviving all the shit he faced over the years, only to end up in a place like this.
Nothing to assure him that he is safe.
Leon took in his new surroundings.
The frost finally kicked in, and he began shivering.
Ahead was a little garden. It was the only green thing he'd seen since getting there.
A spindle-shanked tree sprouted in the middle. Tied to the trunk was a paper doll.
It was a square plot, with a soft, sapphire lantern illuminating the darkened plain. Past the garden, there were a pair of wood doors, styled medieval and carved intricately.
Two branching hallways on the left and right sides. Again, there was another choice.
Aloof, the large, withered tree sat in the middle of the tiny garden.
"Three blind mice. Three blind mice.
See how they run. See how they all ran after the farmer's wife,Who cut off their tails with a carving knife,Did you ever see such a sight in your life,
As three blind mice?."
The voice of the child echoed through the fibrous tree.
"I wish I knew what that meant. I wish I hadn't jumped . . . This place feels evil." He pondered, "That voice is . . . creepy. Where's it even coming from?"
In the midst of this place, his eyes caught her figure again, walking through the double doors.
His blood ran cold. She had dried, brown stains on her garb.
He ran around to them.
When he passed the left branch, a small girl in a white dress sprang to existence, holding a stake and hammer. He didn't even see where she came from.
"Ah!" He yelled, her dark hair obscuring everything but her mouth. It was curled into a sickening smile.
She bowed to Leon, whispering, "Stay here . . . forever . . ."
The whispers slithered into his ears.
The frightened but perplexed man knelt down slightly to get a good look at her. She had unnervingly pale skin and short, raven hair.
Wearing a kimono that drooped slightly long behind her, she appeared no taller than three feet.
" . . . What's your name?" He was reserved about it, not wanting to be invading.
Nevertheless, he placed one hand out cautiously. Slowly, he paced forward to her.
He kept coming closer, she didn't seem to mind.
Okay, almost there now.
Closer.
Close . . .
.
The little girl laughed at his face, the high-pitched sound taking him by surprise. Placing the stake at the back of his palm, she slammed the hammer roughly.
Leon jolted back, howling a pained curse.
Blood poured liberally from the wound.
His hand touched the wall as he felt the world around him swell and twist. The feeling of vice around his head took him over. Another pain flamed from within his skull.
.
Closing his eyes and gasping, he screamed at her, "Why!?"
.
The pain in his palm started rising. He could feel it. Something was moving within his veins, burning him.
He fell on his back, writhing, grasping at his wrist, agonized.
"Stop . . . !" Once the man looked down at his arm, a darkening tattoo of a lion embroidered itself into his skin, swallowing his forearm. It took him some time, but he started to feel better.
The discombobulation stopped, though it took him massaging his head for the pressure to be relieved.
He looked back at the hallway where the girl was.
She'd gone.
Scanning around revealed an undisturbed location. So she'd just vanished.
Just like that.
Slowly he stood up, depending on the surrounding gate to keep him balanced. At first, he trembled slightly.
His knees didn't remember their function exactly, but he was able to stand.
Looking again to the double doors, he desired nothing more than for things to return to normal.
To go back to before the C-Virus.
The door slam behind him.
He bolted around.
"No . . ." He whispered and made up his mind.
Kennedy touched the gelid, dusty handle.
"Leon, no. Don't come near . . . No. No, not that way. No." He heard a feminine voice say. It was deep and breathy, becoming hoarse and angered, "Don't go that way! It's soooooo itchy."
A death rattle sounded.
He gritted his teeth and reaffirmed his entry anyway.
In a flash, he kicked the doors open.
They almost flung off their hinges.
Leon walked into the main offices of the police precinct at Raccoon city.
It's all the same.
The statue of the woman in the front, the gloomy, gold-brownish color of the flooring. The scratched, blood-covered door up ahead.
Leon made an about-face, wanting nothing to do with this wretched setting.
Blot it out from his mind.
He let out a tortured exclamation, "What!?"
There wasn't any door to speak of.
The police station's entrance was also boarded up too much to break through.
"No . . . No, no, no! NO!" The realization of what happened hit him hard and turned his heart into a rubber. He banged his fist relentlessly on the empty wall. "Why are you doing this to me!?"
He examined the area, feeling sick to his stomach.
Right up on the second floor, he spotted his mother near the door of the waiting room.
Leon trekked down the steps and fell on his knees. For the first time in years he wanted to scream his heart out. He let out a blood-curdling rage.
He's back here again.
Somehow, some way, he's back in the dark. And he had to find a way out.
But this time, Claire wasn't here to help him.
He didn't really want to do it, he hadn't cried for years. Nonetheless, he felt them at the corner of his eyes, threatening to fall.
"What took you so long?" He heard a sarcastic male voice with an accent.
He'd recognize that snark anywhere.
"JD?" He said, whipping his head around and scrambling to stand, "How? Why?"
. . . Elsewhere
Claire held a trey in her hand as she walked into the living room. "Okay, we'll take a walk outside. What d-" She stopped mid sentence.
Leon's head was resting over the side of the window, eyes closed.
"Sleeping like this, seriously?" She came toward him and placed the trey over the mahogany coffee table. It was curved inward at the legs, like a classy, antique furnishing.
It was polished, good as new.
Gently, she touched his shoulder, shaking him. "Come on, wake up. At least go to the bedroom and rest there."
She didn't see any reaction from him. Rolling her eyes, the woman shook him again, this time a little roughly. "Come on, wake up . . ."
Kennedy stayed asleep.
"Leon . . . ?" Her voice was stabbed with concern. "Okay, you're scaring me! That's enough, get up."
His face looked peaceful enough, as if he was just sleeping, which he was.
If it wasn't for the pained expression, she wouldn't have noticed anything especially wrong.
His eyebrows plunged into a frown. His lips tight and his teeth gritted.
The fact that he wasn't responding to her made that so much worse.
"Leon S. Kennedy, can you hear me? Wake up, for Christ's sake!" She kept shaking him back and forth. "Please wake up."
She took things a bit further when she ran and grabbed her taser off the buffet table. It had been lying there for some time. A girl can never be too careful.
She pressed down on the button and shocked his leg directly. If that didn't work, she wouldn't know what to do.
He was breathing, why wasn't he waking up? She could still sense his heartbeat, but he wouldn't wake up. Wake up. Wake Up! WAKE UP!
"No, don't you dare." She yelled at him and pulled her cellphone from her pocket.
Her hands were shaking a little too much, she dialed the wrong number at first. 912.
Swallowing a lump in her throat, she redialed 911. Right this time.
"Come on!"
"911, what is your emergency?" A man answered.
"Uh-Yeah, I'm-I need an ambulance right now!" she spoke, her voice shaky but loud. "My friend, h-he lost consciousness and he won't wake up."
There was a small pause on the other end. Everything sounded magnified, to the point where she could swear that she heard him scribble down something on the other end.
"Okay, did he hit his head on anything before that happened?" The responder asked, and she could hear the sound of keyboard tapping.
"No, uh-uhm- he was normal, and I-I just now found him like this." She continued, giving her location to the man.
She heard him do something else, probably writing the address down.
"Please, please hurry! I don't know what's going on!" She was in a full-blown panic. Everything she tried failed. Even loud noises, and literally tasing him.
She kept losing her mind.
"Okay ma'am. Ma'am, ma'am? There is an ambulance on the way. Please stay on the line with me until they arrive. Tell me if anything changes with him. Okay?"
He had to repeat what he said a few times before she understood.
"Yes . . ." Claire allowed a tear to roll down her cheek.
She looked down at him and nothing much changed. He wasn't moving.
Maybe it was a coma? Brought on by stress?
"Please, no." She whispered.
...Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this. please share your thoughts in a review..
Thank you angel wolf for helping me :)