April 20th 2016, 1630 (1330 WDC Time), Nevada Airspace, 45,000 Feet
Leon nervously tapped his fingers on the table in front of him; he hated flying. The fact that this was a private, DSO jet made things slightly better, but not by much. The overwhelming urge for a drink that had dogged him since leaving the DSO headquarters over 2 hours ago, was making him feel sick. Sweat beaded on his brow and he blinked his eyes to wick some of the salty liquid away. His muscles ached, his head pounded; he felt like he needed to throw up.
"Could you please stop doing that?" Hunnigan said, glancing over her laptop with her eyes set to 'kill-and-dispose-of-without-a-trace'.
Leon bit his lower lip in anxiety. "You sure there's no booze on this plane?" He asked, fidgeting uneasily.
Hunnigan shook her head. "Nope." She responded, swiftly going back to typing.
The sound of her fingers clicking on the keys, like a machinegun, was unnecessarily loud; he could swear that she typed at least 110 words a minute. "You're really, really sure?" He asked again.
Hunnigan glared at Leon, her lips pursing. "What part of sobriety didn't you understand?" She growled.
He wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "Look, Hunnigan," he began, "you wanted me at my best for this mission. I can't be at my best if my head is pounding like a drum and I'm sweating like I'm in a sauna."
Hunnigan didn't flinch. "And I said that this was your first day of sobriety. There isn't any alcohol on this plane and when we land, there isn't going to be any alcohol near you. So, don't even think that you'll get a break on the ground."
Leon slammed his hand into the adjacent wall, letting out a growl. "I'm going to get Sherry killed…"
For a moment, Hunnigan considered her options. Option number one, was give Leon the hidden bottle of whiskey that she had requested be put on board. What was the harm in that? By fueling his addiction, she would be pushing back his recovery, not to mention inebriating him on this flight would certainly be a bad idea. She had researched the effects of alcohol withdrawal quite extensively in her youth, having had her own personal experiences with the disease; Leon was more a danger to Sherry sober than he was drunk. Option number two, was not give him any alcohol, watch him squirm as he fell prey to the numerous symptoms, have him get Sherry killed because he was too much of a wreck, and then get Helena killed because they couldn't find her.
"No, you won't. Because I have faith in you." She said defiantly.
Leon snorted, then started coughing. "Faith? You've gotta be kidding me."
Hunnigan closed her laptop, crossing her legs. "You're a good man, Leon Kennedy, regardless of what the bottle tells you. I know it, Helena knows it, and Sherry knows it too; we all need you now. Like it or not, Leon, people are counting on you." She stood up and moved to the back of the plane, opening the door to the restroom and stepping inside, leaving Leon alone.
Leon lolled his head back in his seat, his heart pounding in his ears. He looked out the window; the large, puffy white clouds drifting by put him at ease. He inhaled slowly, letting a breath out. It fogged up the window and he pulled the shade shut. There was a phone on the plane, one built into every seat. Leon stared at it, wondering if he should follow through on what he had planned. He picked the phone up and dialed the number that he had committed to memory. The line rang for what felt like a life-time, but finally it stopped.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Claire." Leon said, leaning back in the seat. He heard a glass shattering, then a curse.
"Leon?" Claire said.
"Hey, Claire." He repeated. "How're you doing?"
Claire was at a loss for words. "Um, I, uh…"
There was silence for several seconds, Leon started to contemplate hanging up. "Claire?" He asked. He heard a sniffing noise on the other end, followed by a sharp exhalation. "Claire?" He asked again.
"It's really good to hear your voice, Leon." Claire said. "Like, really good." Her breath seemed…uneasy.
"Yeah," Leon replied, "you too. How're you doing?"
"I'm good. Yeah, I'm good. Work's been…hectic."
"As always?"
Claire chuckled. "Yeah, as always. What about you? How's the D-" She cut herself off. "Oh. Leon, I'm sorry. I totally spaced."
Leon cleared his throat, almost like a laugh of some sort. "It's okay, Claire. Things have happened. I'm…reinstated. I'm back with the Department." He could practically hear Claire smiling on the other end.
"Leon, that's wonderful. I'm glad that things are looking up for you." She said.
"What do you mean?" Leon asked, suddenly feeling like a charity case.
"I mean, "Claire stopped, choosing her words carefully, "I'm happy that you're okay. I was really worried for you."
Leon rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know, Claire. But I'm okay now, I promise." He half-lied. His body still felt like it was going through a dryer that someone had set to 'fuck-up-beyond-all-recognition'. But he admitted that it did feel good to have a purpose aside from just being the end destination for alcohol. "Sherry's on the same mission I'm on too. So, it'll be good to see her."
"That's great." Claire exclaimed. "Hey, how about when the two of you come back, we go out for dinner. It'll be great to see you guys again."
Leon smiled. "Yeah, I think I'd like that. I'll let you know when we're back in town." He heard the door to the bathroom open in the other cabin. "Hey, I gotta go. I'll call you soon, alright?" Leon said.
"Yeah, definitely. Bye, Leon."
Leon smiled. "Bye, Claire."
He hung the phone up and sat back in his seat, finally starting to relax a little bit.
"What were you doing?" Hunnigan asked.
"Ordering a pizza. But it turns out that they can't deliver to a moving vehicle. Especially one that flies. Damn shame, really." Leon responded sarcastically. Hunnigan shot him a look. "I phoned Claire. Chill yourself."
Hunnigan sat back down. "Did you tell her where you were going?"
"What? You think she's a threat?" Leon said.
"If anyone finds out about this mission, it could be a declaration of war. At this point, I'm considering everybody who doesn't know about this, a potential threat to security." Hunnigan flipped open her laptop, never breaking eye contact with Leon.
Leon frowned. "I didn't say anything to her. You can relax. We're going for dinner when we get back."
Hunnigan cocked an eyebrow. "Oh? I thought it wasn't that kind of relationship."
"It's not a date, Hunnigan. It's not that kind of a relationship." Leon replied.
Hunnigan scoffed. "I've heard stories of your 'just dinner', Leon Kennedy."
January 4th 2015, 0030, Washington, DC
A trail of clothes – both male and female – led from the front door and down Leon's hall. A bra hung haphazardly over the dark fabric couch, the TV wore a pair of black lace underwear like a hat, jeans slung messily over the coffee table. Somehow, black boxer briefs ended up in the kitchen sink. They had started in the elevator on the way up, both refusing to wait. If Helena hadn't been driving, it would have started in the car. Leon's belt was the first thing to go, she practically tore it off his waist and left it behind. It was a risky move, oral in an elevator, but she didn't care; and judging by the noises Leon had been making, he didn't care either.
Helena's body shivered as her face contorted in a mixture of both pain and pleasure. Sweat beaded and fell off her brow, causing dark grey spots on the white pillow in front of her. She groaned, digging her nails hard into the bed-sheets as she let out another breathless moan, caving her back towards the bed. In a lightning fast movement, she was on her back, staring up into his face.
Leon leant down and kissed her lips, groaning into it and receiving an equally satisfied groan in return. He stared into Helena's eyes, and she stared back, their relationship moving from partners to lovers. Suddenly, he was on his back, Helena on top of him. He closed his eyes, rolling his head back as he moaned. He gripped her hips and ran his hands around to her backside, feeling the soft, hot flesh underneath his touch.
Helena rocked her hips back and forth, her hands moving up to play with her hair. Her mouth parted and her tongue caressed her dry lips. Her body shivered again and she let out a squeaky moan. Her fingers dug deep into Leon's chest, eliciting a low growl. She grunted playfully as the sound of roughly smacking skin bounced around the small bedroom. Sweat dripped down her neck, falling between the curvature of her breasts and onto her stomach.
His hand reached up and grasped her throat, causing her to whimper, then moving to grip her hair; she moaned. He pulled her down to his lips, again embracing them with his own. Their bodies writhed together, sweat drenched the bed, their muscles ached, their hearts pounded; but they continued.
Finally, it was over. Leon and Helena collapsed, their chests heaving up and down, each could hear the other's heartbeat. After several minutes of silence, Helena's voice broke it.
She chuckled, then let out a pained, yet pleasurable moan. "Nope. Laughing is not good right now." She held her hand vertical, it visibly quivering. "That's never happened before." She smiled.
Leon tried moving. "My legs aren't working." He chuckled. He managed to muster enough strength to roll over, a movement that Helena soon mimicked.
"That was intense." She said, a smile crossing her face as she stared into Leon's eyes. They Both had ridiculous after-sex hair, a sight that made Helena giggle internally. She had never seen Leon with so much as a hair out of place, even through the intensity of combat, his hair managed to stay completely intact. It made her wonder how much hairspray he used, and what kind it was; she wanted to know for personal reasons, as her current spray wasn't working for her.
Leon smiled back at her. "How was that for dessert?" He asked, his smile turning into a grin. Helena's cheeks flushed, a gesture he thought impossible since her face was already pink with exhaustion.
"Well you certainly had an extra helping." She cooed, her chuckle quickly followed by a moan. She had to admit, Leon certainly was not a selfish lover.
"So did you." Leon shot back. His eyes still pounded slightly from how hard they had rolled back into his head; he could have sworn he saw what his brain looked like. "I just couldn't help myself when I saw you in that dress. Plus, those thigh-high leggings; you were asking for it."
Helena scoffed. "Maybe I was." She said seductively, her voice frying. She ran a hand across his chest, digging her nails into his pec every so slightly. "Fuck." She said breathlessly.
Leon kissed her. It wasn't a flame-hearted passionate kiss that he had been dishing out during their…romping, but one of genuine care. She wasn't some fling for him, he had found someone that really cared for him and vice versa. He might even go as far and say that he had fallen in love with her.
Helena loved him; she had fallen for him hard. She tried to pinpoint the exact moment that she had realized it, but she couldn't. It had been narrowed down to when he first held her in Tall Oaks, immediately after falling into the sewers; so romantic, she knew. Or it was on the plane to China. He had said that she was growing on him. To the average person, it didn't seem like much; but to her, it meant the world.
April 20th 2016, 1530, Washington, DC
"I want that fucker found! I want him dead!" The overweight man yelled. "He crippled my fucking boy. I want his head stuffed and mounted on my god-damn, motherfucking wall." He screamed, slamming his fists into the solid oak desk he sat at. He took a large swig of the scotch at his side, not caring to put it in a glass.
"Boss, we don't know who he is. He disappeared, like a ghost." A thin, suited, mouse faced man said. His hands shook nervously, and with good reason; Francisco Delfino was not a man to piss off.
Delfino ran a hand through his greying and mostly disappeared hair. "Look at my walls," he said menacingly. "Do you see what lays upon them?"
The man glanced around; dozens of animal busts, some exotic some not, adorned the walls of Delfino's office. A lion, a tiger, a bear, a deer, even a great white stared out, each forming an expression of pure aggression. "Um, animals, sir." The man meagered out.
Delfino smiled. "That is correct; very good. And do you know how I found these animals?" He asked. The man shook his head. "I followed their trail, found where they lived, and shot them!" He shouted back. "Nothing leaves no trace. You're going to track down this animal and shoot him."
"Yes, Mr. Delfino, sir. I'll get on it right away."
Delfino waved his hand dismissively. "Good. Now get the hell out of my office. I have work to do…" The man whirled around, walking quickly out of the well-furnished office.
It was well lit, an ornate chandelier hung high above in the lofty ceiling, while the walls were adorned with beautiful redwood bookcases stocked with books. These, of course, were mostly for show, as Francisco Delfino was not much of a reader. The floor was of a dark, almost black, wood that was completely natural. To his right, was a solid metal door that led into a panic room; nothing was getting into that room unless he willed it to. A gigantic glass window behind him looked out onto his mansion's award winning gardens; the window was bulletproof no doubt.
"You want the man who hurt your son?" A distorted voice breaking the silence.
Delfino panicked. He threw open one of the drawers on his desk, pulling out an extremely capable looking .357 Raging Bull. "Who's there?" He called out, his other hand reaching under his desk, depressing the red 'alarm' button.
Almost at his command, a figure materialized; the air cracked around it as it appeared, blue fizzes of energy dissipated around its body. Its face was hidden under a helmet, but as it walked in it's skin-tight, strangely futuristic cat-suit, it was clear it was female. "You want to kill the man who hurt your son?" It repeated. Its voice was deep and distorted, like someone was talking through a megaphone underwater.
Delfino raised the weapon at the figure. "Don't come any closer." He said, his voice quivering. He pressed the alarm button again. "Come on, come on…" He hissed under his breath.
The figure chuckled. "They won't be coming. And you won't be needing that." It said. With a hand motion that resembled someone carelessly swatting a fly, the gun flew from his grasp and landed across the room. "I won't hurt you unless you make me. And believe me, if I wanted you dead, you'd be dead already. I will ask you a third and final time, do you want to kill the man who hurt your son?"
Delfino shook with fear; behind his desk he was unstoppable, but confront him directly, he was a child. He shook his head. "Yes. I want to get that son of a bitch and tear him apart."
The figure stepped forward, its hips sashaying from side to side; it would have been sexy if it wasn't so terrifying. It stopped on the other side of his desk, the helmet – that appeared to be a sort of flight helmet – stared at him with no emotion. It laid two small syringes on the desk, each carrying a dark red liquid.
"The man's name is Leon Scott Kennedy. Give these to your best man, and he will kill him. Do not under any circumstance inject both at the same time." The figure gurgled.
Delfino reached forward, taking the syringes in hand. "What…what do they do?" He stuttered.
There was no response. The figure walked casually away, the air around it crackled again, more blue fizzes zapped through the surrounding area. And as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished.
Delfino eyed the syringe, as if his revenge lay inside. And he was correct to do so, because it did.
A/N: WOW! Those weeks flew past…I'm…sorry? I guess it's a little late for that now, but I'm not giving up on this, no way in HELL. Let's just say that Final Fantasy XV is one hell of a time killer…I digress. I wanted to jump around a little bit more in this one, try and flesh out certain story aspects and introduce more characters. I also wanted to give Helena a bit more screen time now as opposed to flooding the story with her POV later (something I'm trying to avoid doing). It's a damn shame that she spent much of her time on her back in this one… Anyway, I'd love some feedback on this and anything else going forward or that I've already posted.
Thanks, guys,
J.
