A/N: This is just fluff. Just stupid, silly, slightly campy fluff and romance. No great story behind it. Just writing to clear my brain of angst and darkness. Capcom owns all rights to Resident Evil. I just play with their creations.

One:

Rookie

"When I was a kid, I used to think about the kind of man I'd grow up to be…I never thought my life would turn out this way…" - Leon Kennedy.

Why was it always raining in this godforsaken town?

Standing under the awning, Leon S. Kennedy was starting to regret his decision to "go where the action was." A battle cry to arms had led him to make a series of seemingly stupid mistakes regarding his career. He'd been on track to join the N.Y.P.D. He'd been the golden boy at the academy and poised to make Detective as fast as anyone in the force's history.

Instead, he'd answered the call for cops to a fucking struggling metropolis in the middle of nowhere. His tired blue gaze trekked over the filthy gray sky. A sign from the highway cast judgment on those who attempted to express free will, promising punishment in the afterlife if you dared to get an abortion. The sad face of a baby stared down at him beside a phone number offering guidance to struggling single mothers. Help was available and just a phone call away. Jesus was watching you.

He shook his head, shifting his gaze to the tarp stretched over the scene. Apparently, this lost soul hadn't known about the hotline for help. She'd leaped from the top floor of a fancy high rise and fallen to her death like some kind of tragic heroine in a Shakespearean tragedy. Her body was curled at one leg obscenely, her robe left open to show pretty breasts on a bloody torso, her eyes staring emptily into the heavens that had abandoned her in her hour of need. The people that roamed around her gathering evidence seemed impervious to her plight.

Leon thought they could have at least covered her up. Was it necessary to leave her exposed like that? He shook his head, sipping coffee in his soggy uniform. He'd been on patrol with his partner when the call had come in. So here they were, standing watch while the detectives assigned to the case tried to discover if it was suicide or not. The nose of the dead blonde was inflamed and red; blood vessels broke in a spiderlike pattern that let the viewer know either she'd been sick, or she'd been snorting cocaine shortly before her ill-fated leap.

From the chatter of the detectives, it sounded more and more like the latter.

Beside him, his partner let out a low whistle. "Waste of a perfect pair of tits, huh?"

Leon shook his head, "...you always objectify a dead body, Ryman?"

Kevin Ryman, a cop with a handful of years on the beat under his belt, shrugged one big shoulder, "Call it as I see it. You think she meant to do it?"

Leon studied the dead woman on the top of the half-crushed car where she'd landed. "I hope not."

Kevin arched his brows, "Better she was pushed?"

"...better that she wasn't so sad she felt like this was her only way out. Can't get justice for a suicide."

Ryman snorted, patting his shoulder, "Just like a rookie to think about justice. You do this long enough; you learn to appreciate the handful of times you can actually get that for the dead, man."

Leon watched Kevin move into the rain at the hailing from one of the detectives. Detectives were affectionately known as "Dics" around the bullpen. It was both a nod to their generally superior attitudes and a way to save a couple of seconds when getting their attention.

In this case, the one hailing Kevin was one of the worst. Renfro had been a detective so long it was a running joke around the station that he'd been serving there from the R.P.D.'s inception. He was gray-haired, mustached, and constantly looked haggard. Kevin, by comparison, was sporting a five o'clock shadow at eight a.m. and a wrinkled uniform that he couldn't be bothered to iron.

Leon felt like a shiny penny surrounded by crumpled dollar bills. He was pressed, shaved, and alert, wearing the badge proudly and hoping to make a difference. He even starched his collar so it stood up to the rain. As the man crossed through the rain toward him, he eyed Kevin's hair. It was shaggy, looked like he'd hacked at it himself with scissors, and somehow complimented the errant bad boy charm of his face.

"Guess what?"

Leon arched his brows and sipped his coffee. "Time to canvas for witnesses?"

Kevin shot a finger gun at him. "Bingo, boy wonder. You start with the other people on her floor, and I'll work down here."

Leon shrugged a little and made his way into the building. The front desk was operated by an ugly-looking fellow in a natty blue tie and a skinny, long face. He gave Leon a haughty look as he approached. "Can I help you?"

Even his tone was condescending. Leon was betting it wasn't every day they got dirty street cops in their shiny, overly plush lobby. The whole thing looked like something out of a magazine. Italian marble floors, a stupid fountain with a mermaid sending sparkling water into the expensive depths, and paintings on walls that Leon was betting weren't even recreations. Face blank, cop attitude in place, Leon queried, "Which floor did the deceased live on?"

The man pursed his lips, "Ms. Bruster was on the penthouse level."

"Any neighbors up there?"

The man gave him a droll look, "It's a penthouse...she owned the whole floor."

Leon tilted his head, "Did she live alone?"

As he shifted, Leon was reminded of Lurch from the Addam's Family. He was tall, painfully thin, and appeared as pale as a dead body. "...yes. Although she often had a gentleman caller."

Leon waited patiently, but the man didn't reveal anything more, so he prompted, "His name?"

Lurch cleared his throat, "I'm not sure it's right to violate the privacy of the dead, Officer-?"

"Kennedy." Leon tapped the badge on his chest, "And I'm pretty sure if she were pushed, she'd want you to violate that privacy all over the place to make sure we find who did it."

Lurch sighed and responded, "Gregory Simpson. I believe you're familiar with him."

Interesting. Leon arched both brows. Simpson was well known in Raccoon. He was the closest aide to the Mayor. A simple suicide had just gotten interesting. Leon scribbled on his pad and nodded, "Thanks. Any surveillance video up there?"

Lurch balked a little, looking anxious now. "I-I think you might need a warrant for that."

Leon smiled winningly, "Why? Ms. Bruster involved in things you don't want us to see?"

Lurch gave him a pointed glare. "This is a respected establishment, Officer. Rumors have a way of harming the other patrons."

"Rumors?" Leon cocked a brow, "What kind of rumors?"

Behind him, a soft voice answered, "The kind that involves prominent city personnel."

Leon turned to find a woman in a red raincoat watching him from where she was seated in the plush lobby. She crossed long, lean legs wearing red ice pick heels and smiled sweetly. Her perfectly coiffed black hair slid sleekly against an arresting face. Her dark eyes studied him with some kind of intelligence that made him sweat a little under his starched collar.

He moved toward her as Lurch called, "Gossip is for people without class!"

The woman rose from where she was seated. She met Leon in the middle of the lobby and informed him, "You'll want to ask around about a man named Munch. Gossip, you see, is usually based in a good deal of facts."

Leon volleyed his gaze over her beautiful face. "You want to go on record, Ms-?"

She smiled, laughing lightly. "Munch, Officer. That's who you want to get on record." She tapped a long fingernail against his badge on his chest, "Put this to use, will you? Let the rest of us rest easy."

She turned toward the door, flicking open a large red and white umbrella. He called, "If I need to contact you?"

She winked as she opened the door to the lobby. "If the time comes, I'll find you."

She slipped out into the rain. Leon turned his gaze back to Lurch. "That was?"

Lurch shrugged, looking perplexed. "I've never seen her before. She's not a resident here."

Then what was she doing there? Besides giving up strangely valuable information? Leon looked out the murky glass into the street beyond, but somehow she was gone - vanished, as if she'd poofed away in a puff of perfumed smoke. He could still smell her scent in the air where she'd stood.

He flipped his notebook closed and moved out into the rain. Kevin met him at the stairs. "Anything?"

"Munch, apparently."

"...is that like...a nod to being hungry?"

Leon rolled his eyes, "It's a name. Possibly the dealer for the deceased? I'm not sure. But get this - she was seeing Simpson."

Kevin whistled low and loud, "Mayor's right-hand guy?"

"The one and only."

Kevin blew out a hard breath, "Ok. Let's feed the Dics so we can get out of this fucking rain. I'm starting to feel like my balls are fermenting from being so wet."

Leon snorted a little as they made their way toward the scene. He cast a glance at the dead girl atop the car. Maybe it wasn't much, but he was hoping the little bit of information might help find her justice. Rookie or not, he just wasn't ready to give up on the promise of it.

Typing up his report back at the station, Leon wiggled his hands to help his cramping fingers. The rapid clap clap of keys was quiet amongst the clatter of an active bullpen. He kept glancing at the fountain in the lobby of the R.P.D. It reminded him of the one at the high rise where Caroline Bruster had died. What was it about Raccoon City and all the weird sculptures?

Apparently, the city's ancestors had been hardcore into strange and archaic. The gothic revivalist influence was everywhere. As if someone had taken a bad movie full of eccentric weirdos and turned it into a town. Littered around the R.P.D. was all kinds of strange little gadgets and objects. The precinct was among the most bizarre places Leon had ever seen, from a fountain with missing pieces to an entire room on the second floor that appeared to be a life-sized chess set. And he wasn't entirely sure, but he suspected something weird was happening in this place's basement. He could have sworn he saw someone go into the kennels once, but they'd disappeared when he'd followed them in. Poof.

Like the woman in red.

Where had she come from?

What possible reason did she have for just revealing information like that and taking off?

Was she connected to the crime in some way?

As if someone had read his thoughts, Renfro bellowed, "Rookie! Quit daydreaming about your boyfriend's balls and finish that fucking report so I can go home!"

Everyone laughed.

Leon rolled his eyes and got back to it. One of these days, he'd get his chance to prove himself. They'd be sorry for how much shit they made him shovel. Maybe he'd join the freaking C.I.A. and become a badass secret agent. He was betting if he saved a few damsels and dodged a few bullets, they'd start treating him like one of them.

A commotion at the main doors of the R.P.D. had him glancing up. There, standing in the leftover dregs of shitty weather with a raincoat in sunny sky blue, Jill Valentine announced her arrival. She was a member of S.T.A.R.S., the most elite of the elite regarding the R.P.D. The S.T.A.R.S. were called in when things went beyond the ordinary into supremely fucked up. You had to kiss asses and like it to make S.T.A.R.S.

Kevin had tried twice and been rejected.

Jill wore a tiny little mini skirt in black, leather boots to her knees in good camel brown, and a tube top snuggly wrapped around her fantastic tits in the same blue as her coat. The long tail of her hair flicked wetly as she crossed the lobby to the catcalls and whistles of her coworkers.

She rolled perfectly lined eyes and remarked, "Kiss ass, you pathetic trolls."

Everyone laughed again.

"I'll kiss your ass!" Someone offered cheekily.

Jill laughed back, "Ryman, I wouldn't let you near my ass if you were the last man on Earth, and we needed to repopulate the species."

"You got your biology wrong, Valentine; you can't get pregnant in the ass."

"You couldn't get a girl pregnant anyway with that dried-up pair of balls you're packin."

More laughter.

Leon spent too long looking at her, apparently as Kevin slapped him upside the back of the head for it and informed him, "Don't bother. You so much as fart in that direction, and Redfield will feed you your teeth."

Leon scoffed and started typing again. "I'm not scared of that hairy gorilla. I've taken shits scarier than him."

Kevin poked a part of his ass on the corner of Leon's borrowed desk and mused, "Although Redfield's sister might be up your alley if you wanted to wave the red flag in his face."

Leon rolled his eyes. "The redhead? No, thanks, bro. I heard her telling Marta in reception she thought I was a plant by the Russians sent here to seduce information out of unsuspecting females."

Kevin snorted out a laugh. "Claire does have her own sense of humor. I'll give her that. But don't set your dick for Valentine, rook. She's dating some hotshot guy in Vice. And it's rumored she might be tagging the Captain of S.T.A.R.S."

Leon gave him a narrow look. "Wesker? Seriously? Robots don't have sex."

Kevin shrugged a shoulder. "I'm just sayin people talk about what they see. Apparently, they see Valentine in his office a lot. Maybe he's...disciplining her."

Leon rolled his eyes again. "Gross. He's old enough to be her father."

Kevin chuckled. "Right. Because that stops men from banging hot girls. The age gap. Come on, put this shit to bed so we can hit the bricks. I wanna show you the coolest place in town to chase tail."

Leon finished his report and let Kevin drag him to J's Bar. It was a hole in the wall. It was seats made out of barrels around tables made of the same. Some half-assed pool tables and darts were available to those interested. A couple of bathrooms labeled Dudes and Chics offered the ability to relieve your beer-laden bladder.

The second they entered, Kevin was embroiled in banter with other patrons. A reporter in screaming red started in with the flaccid dick jokes. A skinny black guy with hair the color of urine started regaling them with stories about bitches he'd banged. A plumber fixing the sink who looked like a porn star was attempting to fend off a waitress with too much interest in his coverall concealed crotch.

Leon joined Kevin at the bar and accepted the foamy beer slid his way. He sipped it, wincing a little at the bitterness. He wasn't much of a drinker. Too much booze after a bad breakup had made him late to his first day on the force. He was trying to avoid a repeat performance.

He was just starting to get into the easy conversation when the tone of the bar changed. The other cops were beginning to trickle in at the change of shift. There was laughter, and someone started doing karaoke.

Leon was contemplating Munch and his connection to murder when the stool beside him was swung sideways. He rolled his neck to find himself eye to eye with the bad breakup he'd been trying to avoid. He had a moment of total blank thought before she spoke, "Hey, asshole. You never called."

Well, there it was. He'd wondered how she'd handled things since pulling the plug on him. Of course, he'd caught her legs akimbo getting filled out like a welfare application, so it wasn't like they would work through that.

"Jessica."

Jessica tilted her pretty dark head and smiled slyly. "Leon. You decide to just ghost me? I've called you eighteen goddamn times."

He gave her a bored look. "I don't answer calls from whores."

Kevin's eyebrows flung up into his hair. He whistled and remarked, "I do. How you doin, sweetheart?"

She gave Kevin a dirty look and replied, "I told you - that was a mistake. It was just that one time."

Leon rolled his eyes. "Jess - I'm stupid, but I'm not a complete idiot. That guy on top of you? That was your study group partner. The guy you've had over to study...in my damn apartment at least three times a week."

"So? It was just that one time. We were both drunk. And you were at work again. You're always at work. I was lonely."

Leon gave her a deadpan expression. "I'm a rookie. It's the job. You knew that when you followed me here. But sure, let's go with this - you saying it's my fault you let some guy stuff you like a Thanksgiving turkey?"

"No...?" She looked confused now as she tried to find the right way to flip the fight on him. "I'm just saying...you should forgive me." She put her hand on his inner thigh and batted her lashes, "I'll make it up to you."

Kevin offered, "You can make it up to me, sweetie. I don't think he's interested."

Someone shouted, "Neither is she, Ryman! Hard to be interested in two inches of microdick!"

Kevin shrugged, "It's not nice to talk that way about yourself, Redfield. Some girls like cocktail weenies."

Laughter.

Jessica leaned in and bit her lower lip. She batted those big dark eyes and offered, "Come on, Leon. Forgive me. I'll prove how loyal I am."

Ugh.

He started to say something else, and a hand appeared between them. Jill Valentine picked up the long-nailed claw on his thigh and shoved it back at Jessica. She slipped her arm around his shoulders and simply said, "He's taken. So why don't you fuck off back to whatever brothel birthed you and leave us alone?"

Jessica looked simultaneously livid and insulted. She guppied air for a moment before finally taunting, "Oh, please. You want me to believe you replaced me that fast? This guy has been my boyfriend for over a year now."

Jill considered her and shrugged. "I guess he traded up. Your loss, my gain."

Jill slid Leon's hand over her shoulder as she turned, leading him away with her back to him and his hand clasped on that naked skin. She cooed, "Come on, lover. Let's go do that thing where I tell you how you're the best I've ever had."

Kevin laughed loudly. Jessica snapped, "You think I believe this shit!?"

Jill batted her lashes in a bad impersonation of the other woman, opened the door to the bar and tugged Leon out with her, and slid her arms around his waist as he went. She snuggled on him and faked a giggle, "Oooh, right there, hot stuff. Mmmmm."

The bar door swished shut on Jessica's steaming face and left them back in the god-forsaken rain.

Of course, Leon mused, at least this time he was there with a beautiful woman in his arms.

Maybe Raccoon City was an ok place after all.