Slamming into the corner of a building, Leon took a moment to catch his breath, trying to keep his panic at bay. He looked back down this street, hoping to find some sort of inspiration in stopping his new problem. Unfortunately, most of this street didn't even look passable. Judging by the current condition of the street, this had to have been where they first started putting blockades up keep the zombies from making their way even further into the city. That is, of course, until the RPD realized that the zombies were everywhere and no amount of steel would keep them out.
Either way, most of the street was congested with parked cars crammed together as barricades, immediately in front of large cement dividers used in road construction and the large machinery necessary to pull off such a maneuver. His panting had barely slowed when he heard the soft thudding behind him, reminding him why he was out of breath in the first place.
Damn it! His mind screamed. I can't shake that thing!
Terror ripped through Leon as he frantically ran down the dark street, weaving and climbing over the rubble that filled the streets, hoping that he could loose this "thing" by entwining himself deep within this steel trap of vehicles and equipment. He ran by a hydrant that was shooting water in the air, soaking everything within 20 feet. The cold spray felt good as it hit his face, but between his speed, the standing water and the uneven terrain Leon lost his footing and hit the ground hard. The wind was knocked out of him as he landed awkwardly on his side, his whole body sliding across the hard pavement and debris for several feet. Somewhere past the clutter of his current mindset, he heard another object - the shotgun he assumed, slide off in another direction.
For a moment, he didn't know if he was getting up. Pain was shooting from all the newly exposed nerve endings scraped raw by the unforgiving pavement. Exhaustion began to slide in and cloud his mind. The hiss of water spraying up from the hydrant filled his ears with a soothing white noise. All he wanted to do was rest. But with his ear pressed into the ground, the ever-present reminder of his stalker brought his thoughts back into fine focus.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Get up Kennedy, or you're not going to live to see the next five minutes.
Despite his body's best arguments against it, he slipped his hands beneath him and began to push away from the road. Dizziness came and left, and he righted himself in time to see a growing shadow thrown against the barely illuminated street.
Gotta hide - gotta hide - gotta hide
Panic flooded over his logic - he was trained to deal with extreme situations, but this went beyond any tempered planning he could come up with. Frantically searching his immediate area, he decided to fall back down upon the ground and slide under the 4x4 on the edge of a mass of twisted metal. Scraping sounds echoed throughout the street as he positioned himself beneath the truck, frantically looking around for his weapon as the shadow's caster came into view.
The monster stepped into the street, but with the streetlight shining behind him, all Leon could make out was the hulking shadowed shape. It stopped, motionless. Goose bumps actually rose up on Leon's arms as he stopped his search and watched the silent form, still in the erie surroundings. It just stood there for what felt like hours.
What could it possibly be doing? Leon was sure that thing could hear how his heart was slamming against his chest.
He watched the hulk of meat stand there, it's head tilted up into the air, as if sniffing he area.
Shit, don't tell me he's a damn bloodhound...
As if in response to his thought, the creature turned in his direction. The distance between himself and the monster was not a factor as the night carried the only word it uttered.
"S.T.A.R.S."
One moment more, and the creature began stomping his way towards Leon's hiding spot.
Damn - damn - damnit! his mind screamed as he restarted his search, turning towards the back of the vehicle. Where the hell is it? He lost track of the creature as he searched, the massive form disappearing behind rubble; but the sounds of large metal and stone objects scraping across the pavement kept him constantly informed on the direction it was coming from.
Does it matter that I'm not with S.T.A.R.S.? That its after the wrong guy?
Having slid nearly to the back of the vehicle's underside, Leon's hand finally fell upon the familiar feel of cold steel and wood stock. He pulled it close to his cramped body, then held his breath when he realized everything has fallen silent beyond the perimeter of his vehicular shelter. Slowly, Leon shifted his position to get a look behind him when the sound of crunching metal broke the blanket of silence. Two large hands dug into the front end of the vehicle and tossed it forward, end over end, like it was nothing but plywood.
Leon laid there, frozen by the frantic thoughts running through his head as he looked up at the looming form. It was the feel of the weapon in his hands that finally snapped him out of his frightened stupor long enough to bring the shotgun around and take aim - but by then the creature brought its large hand down, knocking the gun from Leon's grip and wrapping it's thick, meaty fingers around Leon's upper torso.
Leon let out a cry as he felt the fingers tighten around his chest, his arms loose at his sides. He felt too much like Jack after he was caught by the Giant. He placed a hand on either side of the meaty paw holding him and did his best to slide his way out of the iron grip he was caught in, but to no avail. The fingers only gripped tighter, squeezing out what little breath Leon had managed to retain.
Leon vaguely felt his feet leave the ground, but all sensation was dulled by the crushing pain that he was feeling on his chest. With his face twisted in a painful grimace, Leon managed to open his eyes to try and get his bearings on his current position. What he saw was the pale, scarred, gruesome mug of the monstrosity that had been hunting him. The thing's features were akin to what one would think a true, honest-to-God Frankenstein monster might look like. Not that Hollywood crap. No, this monster looked to have been sewn up from the remains of several creatures - some, if not most of them, human. It had no lips to speak of, it's skin stretched tight over red gums housing many pointed teeth. Most of it's scarred body was concealed by large leather trench coat, but the track marks and massive sewn valleys trailing throughout that thing's face left little to the imagination of what was underneath the jacket.
Leon winced again, but this time not from the increasing pain below, but from the whiff of rancid breath that had been exhaled out on him. The cold air giving the insubstantial breath form and visibility, allowing Leon to watch it envelop his head before dissipating into the night sky.
The old pain from his shoulder flared up to new heights as he strained and pushed with all his might, but still unable to break this monster's hold. With no air left in his burning lungs, he was unable to cry out when the creature tossed him sideways. Leon flew through the air several feet before hitting the side of a truck and crumpling to the ground.
For a few moments, he didn't know where he was. His hands slid around him, unable to gather any strength to lift himself off the street. With no air left in his lungs, he was at least spared the added pain of having the wind knocked out of him upon impact. Still, his breath was ragged, and each gasp brought new fire to his chest and lungs. The night air was harsh to breath in and only helped to stiffen up what little muscle function Leon had been left with.
The blood pounding in his ears masked most sounds, but his body pressed against the ground definitely felt the thud, thud, thud of the beast as it started to run over to its fallen prey. Gathering what little strength he had left, Leon forced himself to his knees, his faltering hand falling upon the discarded shotgun. It was then muscle memory takes over. His right hand joined his left hand on the gun, pumping it once to house a shell in the chamber.
Eat this, you walking pile of hamburger.
Leon fired of a round into the rapidly approaching figures. It barely stuttered its step as it makes its way closer. Leon was thrown back against the truck from the kickback and hurried to right himself again for another try. Braced against the truck, he pumped the shotgun again and unloaded a second shot nearly point blank into the creature's gut. The normally deafening sound muffled by Leon's own heartbeat pounding in his ears. He pumped the gun a third time, looking on as the creature stopped less than a foot away from the barrel, bent over.
Hell yeah! It has a soft spot. Not so tough with a belly full of lead...
But Leon's internal celebration came to a screeching halt as the hulking figure straightened up almost as fast as it had bent over. Slack jawed in disbelief, Leon fumbled with the gun, trying to get a third round off in its face before he was immobilized again. This time the creature slammed it's left hand into Leon's chest, knocking the shotgun from it's aim, the shot going wild into the air. There it loomed over its prey, pinned to the side of the truck.
Leon grunted in pain, the entire upper half of his body immobilized. Even his attempts to call for help were pitiful, barely rasps of breath hardly audible to himself much less any help in the nearby vicinity.
He looked up at his captor, the drooling beast looking down at him with empty eyes. Leon realized that was the scariest part about this freak show. It derived no pleasure from this hunt, it had no life of it's own, no real anger at being hurt. It merely hunted its target and disposed of it, not letting anything else get in the way.
For whatever reason, Leon had made it's to do' list, and now it was time to ante up.
He waited for the slide slow, for his life to pass before his eyes, a sense of spiritual peace to fall over him, anything that would help him acclimate himself for his immediate demise, but all he felt was fear. Pain, fear, and anger. Anger at Umbrella for what they had done, frustration at himself for letting it end like this, and hatred at this mindless creature for taking him out with so much apathy.
The creature took no note of Leon's inner turmoil. Instead, Leon just watched on as the beast pulled it's right hand back, slightly raising it to the sky. In the moonlight Leon could now see the very tip of a tentacle emerging from the palm of the massive hand.
Oh God.... Leon thought, his mind flashing back to the flying corpses with the massive holes through their skulls... I don't want to go out like this!
He watched as the monster's body tensed, readying itself. When the hand moved towards him, Leon closed his eyes and turned away, unable to watch his end approach.
It was just after he closed his eyes that he heard the noise - that blessed noise. It was a series of loud pops followed by an enraged roar uttered by the creature. He felt the hand pull away from his chest, letting his battered body fall to the ground.
Leon immediately curled up in a defensive position, eager not to be hit by any of the stray bullets that had come to his rescue. He risked a glance up and saw the monster writhing in the path of an array of bullets, turning towards the new aggressor in this game. The bullets kept on flying, the constant battery apparently able to do the job Leon's shotgun could not.
Once the creature located the source of its newfound pain, it slowly started to make its way over there. It was when it had moved a fair distance from Leon that the bullets stopped - the sudden silence deafening in itself. The creature moved to pick up pace towards the shooter, but then there was that sound, a sound of something bouncing, an explosion, and then fire everywhere.
The unexpected explosion was loud and blinding. Leon covered his head, praying no shrapnel found its way towards him. From among the rubble, a fire started. He remembered vaguely thinking the heat was a welcome escape from the night's chill.
He didn't know how long he laid there, his mind screaming at him to move, but his body unable to comply. It wasn't until he felt the hand pulling up on his arm that he even entertained the fact that he had actually made it through that last scene alive. He let out a loud grunt as his injured shoulder screamed at him. Seemed the newcomer chose that injured arm to yank on, trying to get Leon to his feet. The pain flung Leon to his knees and he brought his left arm up to push the "helping hand" away, then cradle the injured arm.
Leon looked up. The fire cast strange shadows upon the area, but he made out the shape of a man standing before him. The figure was still for a moment, then the stranger apparently realized the problem and tried to assist Leon to his feet in a gentle, but urgent way.
"Hurry up amigo - it isn't going to stay down forever," the accented voice instructed. Leon only found the strength to nod in response, but before they had taken more than a few steps, important issues began to surface in his weary mind once again.
"Wait - my gun," he told the stranger, indicating where the shotgun had fallen from his grip. The man nodded, and after propping Leon up on a nearby vehicle, he ran back and grabbed the gun. Feeling slightly more secure with the feel of the weapon in his hand, Leon let himself be lead away from the scene of his near-death, hoping not to repeat the performance anytime soon.
----------------------------------------------
The air was thick with the smell of burnt flesh. The sounds of labored footsteps had long since faded into background noise. It mattered not.
The creature rose to it's feet, opening it's single eye. The only movement in the area was the light from the fire as it played havoc with the shadows.
The air was thick with the scent. The creature waited a moment, searching for a direction. There were several to choose from. Another moment and it moved. It would find its target. That was it's purpose