"Attention all citizens. Due to the city-wide outbreak, you are advised to take shelter at the Raccoon City Police Station. Free food and medical supplies will be provided to everyone in need." The broadcast repeated.

"Oh my god, this is so unreal…" Claire muttered, slouching back in her seat as Leon guided the cruiser through the crowded city streets. Abandoned vehicles, some burning and some not littered the road. Broken and flickering streetlights were lost amongst the flaming buildings. Undead, shadowed and nestled in festering pockets of the city, shambled on the sidewalks and opening of alleyways. They could almost make out their muffled grunts and groans as they passed. How did everything go to hell so fast?

"The police stations not much farther. They'll know something." Leon assured, not quite believing what he was seeing either.

"Yeah, but… what if we're the only ones? What if there are no survivors?" Claire questioned, bringing to life the fear that was burrowing its way into his chest.

Leon shook his head. "No, there are survivors." He gazed at the burning hell looming in front of them. "It's a big city…there has to be." He refused to think that they were the only ones left alive in this hell hole. Any other thought was too daunting to think of.

A roadblock inched closer and the car coasted to a gentle stop. "Looks like we're walking from here."

Muffled noises drew Claire's attention to the window. A couple of zombies were gathered on the sidewalk, steadily tearing into a corpse. Her stomach rolled as a head turned towards the car, blood and flesh dripping from its gaping mouth. "More like running," she muttered.

Leon followed her gaze. "Yeah, good call."

A slam against his window had them both flinching in their seats. "Jesus Christ!" He cried as Claire let out a startled scream. The growling zombie banged against the glass, attracting others to the prospect of fresh meat. The car was soon covered and rocking with the onslaught of bodies.

"Leon, we gotta back up!" Claire stated. The car was creaking, and she wasn't sure how long the glass would hold against the incredible pressure of the undead. Their odds of survival were dwindling by the second. Turning to see if the back window was free, her heart jumped into her throat at the view behind them. "What the-"

Having just put the cruiser in reverse, a blinding flash of light crossed the rearview mirror and Leon glanced back. A semi-truck barreled towards them, undeterred by the walking corpses in its path. "Holy shit." His eyes widened. "Claire, get out! Get out, now!"

They both scrambled for their door handles, shoulders slamming against the plastic and metal to force them open. The horde's force on the other side was too much. "I can't!" Claire cried, trying desperately not to panic. It was no use.

They were trapped.

Seeing no other option, Leon shouted out a new order, "Hold on!" He braced himself against the steering wheel as Claire did the same with the dashboard. Their bodies tense in anticipation of the oncoming collision. The semi-truck suddenly turned, colliding with the abandoned cars framing the road. He could see it weaving and sending sparks into the air as it scraped the cars. The light in the mirror grew and Leon squeezed his eyes shut.

He heard the impact a split second before his body felt it. The crunch of metal against metal grated against his ears as their vehicle was thrown through the barrier. His head connected painfully with the hard leather of the steering wheel and he grunted. He heard the squeal of tires and the grind of concrete. There was a second shock of pain when the car slammed to a stop.

Head buzzing from the noise and trauma, Leon opened the door and collapsed to the ground. He scrambled to his feet just as the car burst into flames. "Woah!" He raised his arms to shield his face from the sudden heat. The semi-truck was cradled on its side, slowly leaking. It took him all of two seconds to realize exactly what the truck had been towing. Gasoline. His heart jumped.

"Oh no," He got no more than three steps in before the whole thing was engulfed in a giant ball of fire, the concussive wave sending him careening into the side of another vehicle. He groaned, back and side pulsing with pain as he pushed himself back onto his feet. Ears ringing, he gazed around at the wreckage and found himself alone, heart pounding in his chest.

"Claire! Claire, are you okay?!" He called, desperate to hear her voice. Please, please, don't let her be dead. Precious seconds crawled by before he heard a reply.

"Yeah, I'm alright. How about you?" He sighed in relief.

A symphony of moans grabbed his attention from the flames. The growing horde nearly had him surrounded. "I can't stay here. It's not safe." He backed slowly towards the heat.

"Go on ahead!" Claire called over the crackling and groans. "I'll meet you at the station!"

"I'll be there!" Pulling Matilda out of her holster, he took off in the opposite direction of the fire, the horde, and Claire. By god, she better not have lied to him. He wasn't sure he'd be able to survive this nightmare by himself.

This was out of control. More and more zombies crawled out of the woodwork the farther into the city he went. The scattering of cars had turned the roads into mazes, with each dead end filled with the undead. He slipped past zombies rising, stumbling, and feeding before ducking into an alley. The body of a woman growled and twitched as he went by before flames engulfed her. Shit! It's everybody! They've all turned! It was either that or they've become food for someone else. This nightmare just kept on getting worse.

The alley soon opened up and his sights set on the majesty that was the Raccoon City Police Station. It stood like a sentinel against the chaos that ravaged its city. Now, he just needed to get there. Dogging zombies left and right, and even one attempting to squeeze its way out of a flaming yellow school bus, he reached the wrought iron gates. They were a lot heavier than they looked and it was quite satisfying to slam them shut and slide the lock into place. The creatures threw themselves against the metal, but the gates held fast, and he breathed out a sigh of relief. Turning to face the large, ornate door of the police station, he prayed that there was someone still alive that could explain to him what the hell was going on.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" His voice echoed off the stone columns as the door swung shut behind him. Silence greeted him. The once-grand building that housed the proud police force of Racoon City was now nothing more than a desolate triage center. It no longer stood tall like it had when he had been here a few weeks ago for his initial job interview. Storage bins of canned food and medical cots dotted the space of the lobby, the privacy curtains around them seemed useless amongst the emptiness of the hall. The bloody footprints that peppered the usually pristine, intricate marble floors seemed directionless, leading to nowhere and everywhere at the same time. This was no longer the glorious police station he had seen once before. It was a tomb.

Blue eyes caught a glaring red screen of a state-of-the-art laptop resting on a fold-out table just behind the receptionist's counter. It bore the crimson symbol of the RPD logo, which seemed much more orange to him now compared to all the blood on the floor. Tapping a key, Leon pulled up the building's surveillance cameras. "There has to be someone here," he muttered, cycling through all the functioning cameras on the first floor.

Movement in Cam 4 drew his eyes. Gunshots flared against the screen as groans drifted through the speakers. He switched to Cam 3 as what appeared to be another officer began speaking to the camera.

"David! Marvin! You there?! I found a way out! It's in here!" The officer held up what looked like a notebook before it was switched out for the officer's sidearm. Another gunshot didn't stop the approaching zombie and the officer had to shove it away. "Send reinforcements! East hallway!" The officer cried before running off the screen with the zombie giving chase.

A few more taps of the keys had Leon bringing up a quick map of the lower East side of the building. A flashing red symbol showed him which camera had been recording the incident. Seeing as there wasn't a 'Marvin' or a 'David' to send as backup, it looked as if Leon was going to be the reinforcements. "I gotta find that guy."

The entrance to the East side was sealed tight behind a metal shutter with a sign taped to it. 'Keep Out'. Sorry, no can do. He pulled the lever and nearly groaned when the shutter only rose about two feet. Damn it, he was going to have to crawl.

Lying down on his stomach, Leon did his best to ignore the blood seeping into his clothes. His flashlight barely made a dent in the inky blackness of the hallway. There was no movement, no sound, that indicated anything living or undead inside. He pulled his body under the shutter and got to his feet. Blood coated the opposite wall and he tried not to grimace at the tacky look and feel of it under his sneakers.

Water rippled out across the floor as he moved, the sloshing making each footstep frighteningly loud. A hastily boarded door to his left creaked as he moved past it. Best not to think about what lay behind it. His heart was pounding in his ears, his breath stinted. "You got this," he whispered to himself, trying to stay calm.

The beam of his flashlight reflected off a metal cabinet that had fallen, blocking his path forward. Taking a deep breath, he wrapped his hands around the edges and pushed with his legs. The cabinet creaked and groaned before it slammed back into position and he froze, ears straining for any sign that his actions had been heard. A few seconds of eerie silence passed before he allowed himself to continue.

All this pressing silence was messing with his head. Every noise was deafening, and he couldn't tell what was real and what was his imagination. The dark wasn't helping his nerves in the slightest. Turning the corner, he was met with a sight that caused his stomach to recoil. Bodies littered the corridor, some in pieces with blood and guts decorating the walls and others remaining whole but hauntingly still. All of them were in some stage of decay.

"Jesus." There was definitely not a course about dealing with the undead at the academy, and if there had been he had clearly missed it.

"Open up!" Leon flinched hard at the booming voice that echoed down the corridor. "Hurry! Open up!" The voice was desperate as he threw open the door to the watchman's room. "Open this goddamn door!" He could hear the grunting and the sound of someone banging on the shutter.

"I'll get you out!" Leon called as he crouched. Grabbing the edge of the shutter, he strained to lift it enough for the officer to squeeze through. A hand clutching something tightly was the first thing to appear and Leon all but lunged for it.

"Help me! Please, help me!" The man cried trying to wriggle the rest of his body under the shutter.

"Gimme your hand," Leon ordered, grabbing the offered appendage and pulling him through the best he could. "I got you."

The officer's upper body cleared the shutter and he rolled over. "Give me your other hand." The officer reached up towards him, but just as their hands met blood sprayed out around them from the other side of the shutter. The officer let out a blood-curdling scream of agony, terrifying Leon to the point where he too wanted to scream. Luckily enough, his training was able to keep him from doing so. If he started, he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop. Not sure what else to do, Leon kept pulling. Maybe they still had a chance. "Hang in there!" He wasn't quite sure if he was speaking to the officer or himself. Giving one last hard tug, the officer cleared the shutter door.

Or at least…half of him did.

"Oh my god." His entrails were hanging out of the end of what was left of his torso as distorted hands shot out from the crack under the shutter, trying to get as much of that delicious soft tissue as they could. Leon knelt by the officer's head, useless hands resting on his shoulders. His first aid training manual didn't have a section on hemicorporectomy.

"Jesus Christ." Leon watched the life leave the officer's eyes as he stilled under his hands. He hadn't even known his name. A growl and a bang had his head snapping up, fearing that the creatures might break through. The shutter held.

A small, brown, leather-bound notebook lay next to the officer's empty hand. This must have been what he was trying to give him. Flipping through the pages and ignoring the part of his brain that chastised him for invading the dead officer's privacy, Leon took note of what looked like a crudely drawn map with symbols sketched on the back. It must have been important if the officer pushed it through before himself. Leon pocketed the small notebook, took one last look at the fallen police officer, and stood. He felt as if he had overstayed his welcome.

The door that led back into the hallway rattled and Leon froze, gun immediately lifting. It rattled again and again before bursting open to reveal a zombified police officer. He pulled the trigger, a bullet exploded from his Matilda before slamming into its head, sending blood and brain matter splattering against the wall. The zombie collapsed, and Leon wasted no time in running for the door.

Glass shattered behind him as he ran back down the hall, ripping a startled yell from him and spurring him on. There was another crash, this time ahead of him, and the sound of splintering wood, informing him that the trapped zombies had broken free. Two more appeared in front of him.

"Jesus! They're everywhere!" He cried, lifting his gun. Two more bullets found their marks, sending the bodies to the floor as he kept running. The glowing red Exit sign stood out like a beacon in the dark as he reached the shutter to his salvation. Leon practically threw himself onto the floor, only realizing too late that the shutter had dropped a bit since he had gone through the first time. His head fit under just fine, but his shoulder caught the edge of the metal and kept him from moving any farther. This was so not happening. He was not going to die like that other officer. Wedging his right arm under, he struggled to push it up just enough for the rest of him.

"Come on!" The shutter lifted with a grind and he crawled forward. He was nearly in the clear when something grabbed his leg. He glanced back to see a rotting face snarling back at him as decayed hands began using him as leverage to move forward under the shutter. "Goddamn it!"

He couldn't move. He couldn't do anything to save himself. His gun was in its holster at his thigh, directly under the hands of the zombie. He was about to become dinner for an undead corpse. Combat boots entered his line of sight and something else grabbed him to pull him out of death's grip.

"Watch out!" He warned as those boots approached the struggling zombie.

"Got it." The boots slammed the shutter closed, crushing its skull beneath it. Following up the line of this new officer's uniform, Leon met the face of his savior. The dark skin was a sickly gray and dotted with sweat. A hand covered a ghastly, yet bandaged wound on his right side. "You're safe…for now." The officer groaned in pain and collapsed back against the shutter.

"Thanks," Leon panted, trying to get his breath back.

The officer nodded, "Marvin Branagh."

"Leon Kennedy. There was another officer. I-I couldn't… I couldn't…" He couldn't finish. Couldn't stop seeing that officer being torn in half by rotting hands. He couldn't do a lot of things, it seemed.

"Here," Leon glanced up to see a bloodied hand being offered to him. He hesitated for a moment before grabbing it and letting himself be pulled to his feet. "I'm sure you did what you could, Leon." It didn't seem like enough.

"Come on," Branagh brushed past him back toward the lobby. He bypassed the reception area and climbed the ramp to the foot of the goddess statue. There were a few privacy screens with a cot in the middle and a couple of couches that were clustered around two supply crates currently serving as a makeshift table. The laptop he had used before was resting there, showing the cameras from the East Wing. Seems Branagh had seen him snooping through the halls.

"There's a fresh uniform in one of those crates to your right." Branagh gestured to the boxes lining the far wall. "I actually think it's yours. None of us could fit it. We kept it though. Thought it might be useful. Seems like it was." The man was rambling, but Leon didn't bother to stop him as he retrieved the clothing. It was actually comforting to hear another human voice amidst this nightmare. It made him really miss Claire. He hoped she made it, if not here, then at least to some place safe.

"Thank you," Leon muttered as he slipped behind a privacy curtain. The front of his clothes was stained with the blood from the floor and he tried not to shudder as he removed them. His breath was getting shorter with each button. His hands wouldn't stop shaking. Closing his eyes, he forced his breathing to slow. Calm down, he urged. His mind's voice taking on the soothing baritone of his father. It'll do you no good to panic. Take a few minutes, some deep breaths, then keep going. Once his heart no longer felt like it was trying to burst from his chest, he continued.

The uniform still held the stiffness of new clothing, but it was much cleaner and smelled a lot better than his. The soft cotton of the undershirt felt nice against his skin and covered him completely to his wrists. The navy uniform shirt buttoned nicely over top and he tucked it in out of habit. Threading his black belt back through the loops, he synched it tight before discarding his soiled clothes in one of the bins by the ramp.

Marching back to the crates, Leon found a pair of boots in his size and he switched them out with his white sneakers. A bulletproof vest fastened across his chest and a utility belt hung around his hips. He attached a two-way radio to it before running the wire up his back to the speaker at his shoulder. Matilda followed next, clipping to the belt and strapping to his right thigh. He finished off the uniform with knee and elbow pads, adjusting the latter so it wouldn't interfere with his mobility.

"Does anyone know what started this?" He questioned, stepping out from behind the curtains.

"Not a clue," Branagh replied, cycling through the CCTV footage. "But honestly, all you need to know is that this place will eat you alive if you aren't careful."

Leon pulled back the slide of his gun to make sure a round was in the chamber. "Yeah…well, I was supposed to start last week, and I got a call to stay away." He holstered Matilda. "I wish I'd come here sooner."

"You're here now, Leon. That's all that matters." Branagh glanced over the drawings in the salvaged notebook as Leon checked the mouthpiece at his shoulder, flicking it on and off to hear the static on the other end. All of his equipment was in working order.

"Ok, Lieutenant," he stepped up to the man's side, "I'm ready." He spoke the last part with all the confidence he could muster.

"Hopefully, you'll be able to find a way out of this station. That officer you met earlier, Elliot?" Leon nodded. How could he ever forget? "He thought this secret passageway might do the trick."

Leon took the bloodied notebook, eyes roaming over the hastily drawn map. Hope started making him feel a little lighter. "This is good news. We can get you to a hospital."

Branagh shook his head. "No, no. I am not the priority here."

"Lieutenant, I'm not just going to leave you here-"

"I'm giving you an order, rookie!" Branagh snapped, his voice echoing around the empty hall. "You save yourself first. I'd come with you, but I'd just slow you down."

The stubbornness of this guy. Leon had known him of all of twenty minutes and the urge to shake some sense into him was strong. He settled for a heavy sigh.

"Now…you'll need this." Branagh stood, holding out a worn combat knife.

"I can't take-"

"Stop."

Leon stood still for a moment, watching as Branagh refused to meet his gaze. He knew something Leon didn't. The hope slowly faded away with each haggard breath the Lieutenant managed to take. Leon took the handle and was a little surprised when the Lieutenant used it to pull him in close. He could see the red that rimmed the man's eyes from exhaustion and fear. Leon had a feeling he was going to carry that same look by the end of the night.

"And don't make my mistake," he hissed. "If you see one of those things- uniform or not- you do not hesitate. You take it out…or you run. Got it?"

Eyes wide, Leon nodded. "Yes, sir."

Grunting, Branagh nearly collapsed back onto the couch, his hand gripping the leather with enough force to tear it. The other pressed against his wound as if he was trying to keep his insides inside. Leon wished there was something more he could do to help the man that had saved his life, but what more could he do except what he had been told? The goddess statue gazed down at him with empty, white eyes. It was as if she had judged him and found him lacking. The door to their escape was sealed somewhere beyond the marble and a pretty face, but Branagh seemed resigned to his fate, hope draining faster than his blood. Blue eyes narrowed. He was going to get them out of this hell hole. He'd find the exit, even if he had to take a sledgehammer to that pile of flawless stone. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, Leon squared his shoulders.

Time to get to work.