Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or their characters. I do, however, use the characters and possible plot-line in a fictional, non-profit and original story.
Description: Takes place during Resident Evil 6. The mission went wrong. Leon and Helena were separated, and Leon finds himself trapped in the palm of a vengeful and sadistic enemy; the very one they had traveled across the world after. Simmons doesn't want Leon dead - not yet. How far will he go to break the agent? This is written in first person point of view, from Leon's perspective.When you see a long line, that is either a section separation (out of content from in content) or a time break.
Rating Information: Fun whumpage.
Author's Note: Back to the main character, now. (: Also, I don't type well in female point of view, which is weird, seeing as I'm female... just a quirk - I prefer writing males. o: Cliff hangers? I'm a horrible person... and it's kinda short... I have one more day of finals and like... five projects to finish (freaking hell, teachers, way to set them up all at the same time), and then I should be having plenty of time. :D
LEON POV
I woke up, chest hitching with pain as I drew in a breath. It wasn't a 'my lungs are punctured and I'm dying' kind of pain, but it was actually pretty close. I'd had experience in that before and I didn't want to be quick to feel it again. Instead, it was more like my rubs had been ground into fine dust and the nerves were flaring into the red, hot, open air. It wasn't too far of a stretch, considering the days I've had. Hell, a mutant butterfly latching onto my ear and whispering songs wouldn't be a big flex of the imagination either. I was, however, not completely relieved that I had woken back up. The rest of the pain all came rushing back at me and my next exhale was a bit of a wheezing whine. I wanted to curl up in some dark, cold corner and just die. Unfortunately, I was not alone...
"Leon? You still breathing?" someone said in an easy-going manner, and I felt embarrassed at the cry of pain I had allowed to escape. I kept my eyes squinted tightly shut, before I felt a jolting beneath me that sent my head spinning and pain picking up to the point that my breath was taken away. Completely.
I hacked and coughed, glaring into the air, until the aching reached a level so critical that my nerves must have given up and the area went numb.
"Easy," someone had turned me onto my side and some of the pressure on my chest lessened to the point that I could breathe. The first thing I really noticed was that it was dark... very dark. But after a few minutes I could make out a few lights, and then enough of the area around me to recognize that I was inside of a tank - I didn't really remember anything after the scientist dropped me so I was mostly just confused of how we got here. I saw Helena and Chris, and then Sherry a little ways further. Jake was near her. At the moment I couldn't gather up the usual testosterone-based aggression I got when I saw him.
I was too tired for that.
I swallowed a gathering of what was most likely blood, and shakily cleared my throat. "Where are we?" I sounded raspy, quiet, and coughed as soon as I'd spoken. Grimacing, I was starting to rethink whether I had punctured a lung. A hammer to the head would do the trick right now, and I simply wished someone would help out with that simple act. Either not me out until the morphine was pumping through my veins or drop me off in a ditch - at this point the concussion that was bound to be glaring through my dilated pupils was throbbing and sending my mind into a rush of uncoordinated, irrational thoughts. I wanted to say something else but it came out as a slurring sound, unintelligible. And then I needed air, having expelled it quickly in a rush of words.
"We'll have to wait and see... right now we're in a tank, trying to get to the edge of the city. An infection broke out thanks to Simmons and we're trying to get to the BSAA," Chris said, sitting close to my head. I tried to drink more water, and managed to spill more all over myself, but also got to swallow some down as well. It helped a little bit. I was drifting off into a haze, my vision blurred and a foggy world surrounding me.
And then a hand on my broken arm jolted me back into reality with a sharp jerk and a yelp of pain.
"Hold still, I'm looking," Jake growled at me, seeming impatient and annoyed. But he didn't look me in the face. I couldn't see his eyes.
"They set it already..." I said, groggy and weak. He said nothing, and only continued to search along the arm, from the wrist and up to the shoulder, which was tingling still.
"How did they break it in so many places?" He asked, making it sound like he was more interested in the idea - something he could research and study and then file back in the cabinets before moving on.
"It was a licker."
He grunted, then looked down at the leg which I couldn't feel anymore. I was glad. It had probably fallen asleep from me not moving it in so long. I didn't dare to move it and wake up the nerves that were bound to carry agonizing signals to my tired brain.
"And the leg?" He asked, in the same bored tone.
"Broken knee," I responded, my voice growing as thick as my head. What was the point of my body making me feel so tired if it wasn't going to allow me so much as sleep?
"Oh. Then..." He never got to finish, because in a split second, Piers had shouted at us all to hold on, and there was a terrible roaring sound from somewhere outside. I felt a jarring, and then two heavy bodies pinned me down, followed by a lot of falling, rolling, and movement that hurt like hell. I must have bashed my head again because the ringing increased into a dull roar and the stars came back in double-force.
I heard a sound that was a lot like a voice - and one I recognized as Simmons. Ah hell. That bastard wasn't dead yet?
And then I saw asphalt inches from my face.