Leon played with the photograph in his hands. There wasn't much he could do with it, just look at it and bend it a little – but, then again, there wasn't much he could do in the van, in the first place. The only other people around, two Spanish cops sitting in the front seats, made him feel a bit uncomfortable. However, it wouldn't exactly be truthful to say that he was only playing with the photo because he didn't have anything better to do. The subject of the photo wasn't bad to look at.

Ashley Graham...20 years of age...Daughter of the President of the United States.

Leon Scott Kennedy had received special training via a secret organization working under the direct control of the president. Recently, he was told that he was to assume the responsibility of protecting the new president's family. This was directly after the president's daughter was kidnapped by an unidentified group, while on her way home from her university. So, if something bad happens, slap all of the responsibility on somebody else, and tell him it's his problem? Sad...

The motives of the kidnappers were unknown. Although, there was apparently some reliable information that the perpetrator was someone from inside the White House itself. Only a handful of people knew about the kidnapping. It had been kept under wraps, mostly due to the fact that they couldn't determine who the traitor was. The guys in intelligence said that they had reliable information that Ashley had been sighted somewhere in Europe.

Ashley disappears, their only clue is that the perpetrator may be a traitor inside of the White House, and suddenly someone in the White House tells them exactly where to look? That sounds pretty suspicious to me. It almost seems as if this is all part of some ploy. What are the chances of her being sighted in rural Europe, anyway? I smell bull. In any case, there isn't enough information to come to any conclusions, so I don't believe a damn thing that the guys in intelligence say.

Leon thought back to the last words of his briefing. "Its just a matter of time before the kidnapper is exposed." Well, they certainly sound confident. Perhaps they're just trying to mask their own uncertainty. ...Heh. Look at me, getting all psychological over this. I'd better lighten up. Why do they assume she's been kidnapped? Maybe she's just gone on a European vacation without bothering to tell anyone.

Leon smirked and chuckled quietly at his own joke. The tiny sound was enough to get the attention of one of the cops in the front of the van. He turned around to look at Leon. Oh, no. Please don't tell me he's going to try to start up a conversation...

"Yo..." The cop began, confirming Leon's fears. "...Who are you, really? Come on and tell us. You are a long way from home, cowboy. You have my sympathies."

"Heh. I guess that's a local's way of breaking the ice..." Leon muttered to himself under his breath, before responding to the cop. "Sorry. There is really nothing interesting that I can tell you about who I am. Anyway, you know what this is all about. My assignment is to search for the president's missing daughter."

Leon might have been warmer to the cop if not for the 'cowboy' remark. That, and Leon tended to feel like people were being condescending to him when they told him that they felt sorry for him.

"What? All by yourself?" The cop asked in a mocking tone.

"No – you two are supposed to help me." Leon said, letting the cops know that he didn't have much faith in them. "I'm sure that you boys didn't just tag along so we could all sing Kumbayah together at some Boy Scout bonfire. Then again...maybe you did."

The cop didn't seem phased by Leon's retort. "Heh. Oh, you crazy American. It's a direct order from the chief himself. I tell you, it's no picnic."

Leon felt a little disconcerted by the cop's lack of enthusiasm. "Hey – I'm counting on you guys. Don't let me down."

The two cops merely looked at each other and shrugged.

Leon turned his attention back to the photograph. Ashley Graham...Is it true that she's really 20 years old? She looks like she's 16...She looked a normal girl, so she didn't strike Leon as being the president's daughter, despite her slight resemblance to President Graham. However, she did strike him as being a very attractive girl. Leon wasn't the type to whistle at a pretty lady, but the photo was all he had to look at, so he continued admiring it. Or, more specifically, Ashley. He didn't even realize how engrossed he'd been in her photograph until he noticed that the car had stopped moving.

"Just up ahead is the village." The cop who had been driving informed him.

"I'll go and have a look around." Leon said, slipping the photo into his back pocket.

"We'll stay and watch the car. Don't want to get any...parking tickets." The other cop said.

Leon rolled his eyes at the lame joke. "...Right. Parking tickets..." He muttered.

"Good luck!" The other cop said in a insincere voice. Ignoring him, Leon opened the door and got out of the car.

Leon now found himself standing on a trail. The sky was grey and cloudy. The sun wasn't in sight. It was fall, so dead leaves covered the ground, and dead trees could be seen all around. There were some crows pecking the ground up ahead of him. Aren't crows supposed to symbolize death, or something like that? The presentiment of death seemed to be present everywhere Leon looked. Realizing that it was silly of him to stand around thinking about death, he began walking down the trail, sending the crows flying off. He held his handgun out, cocked and loaded. He didn't feel that he would need it just to ask the locals if they had seen Ashley, but he was supposed to expect kidnappers...or, at least, something like that.

The trail forked. The right path was blocked off by an old–looking truck. The trail to the left led up to a shabby, two–story house. Its door was wide open. Is that their way of inviting me in? Or do the people around here just leave their doors open? As Leon took the left path, he got a creepy feeling – as if someone was watching him. I've got to stop letting this place get to me.

Leon walked up to the door. Even though it was open, he knocked on it, and called out. "Hello? Is anybody there?" No response. Leon poked his head inside the house a little and looked around. He stepped inside. It was pretty devoid of furniture. Walking inside a little further, he heard the sound of a man coughing. So, there is someone inside this house. He rounded a corner and saw a man standing in front of a fireplace, tending to it with a stick.

"Ah, excuse me, sir?" Leon called out softly, not wanting to scare the man or seem hostile. The man kept his back turned to Leon, continuing to mess with the fire. He didn't reply, or even look back at him. Leon walked around a table and approached him. He reached into his back pocket, and pulled out the photo. To his surprise, he actually had a bit of trouble taking it out of his pocket. Not because it was stuck, but because he found himself feeling a little possessive of the photograph – as if he didn't want to let other people see it. This is silly. I shouldn't feel possessive of a photograph. I'm going to show it to him, find out that he doesn't have a clue what I'm talking about, Ashley's going to turn up safe and sound in America, and this is going to be a big waste of my time.

As Leon stood near the man, the man finally turned to face him. His appearance was startling. He had pale, dirty skin, and the features of his face seemed to form a look of severe annoyance. As soon as Leon saw his face, adrenaline began pumping in his veins. Not because of the man's unpleasant appearance, but because something deep within him told him to fear this man – that he was evil – that he was an enemy.

Suppressing these feelings, Leon held out the photo to the man. "I was wondering if you might recognize the girl in this photograph."

"¿Qué carajo haces aquí¡Lárgate, cabrón!" The man barked at him. There seemed to be something wrong with his voice. Leon had heard hoarse voices before, but this man's voice seemed to echo with something that simply sent disgust through his body.

Leon wasn't a very fluent speaker of Spanish, but he could tell what the man had said. Something along the lines of, "What the hell are you doing here? Get out!" Of course, the man's expression and tone of voice could have told him that much.

"Sorry to have bothered you." Leon said. He owed the man an apology for intruding, and had no desire to start up a fight. He tucked his photo into his pocket. When he looked back at the man, he was picking something up.

An axe!

"ARRRRR!"

The man swung the axe at Leon. Leon ducked down, and then rolled out of the way of the axe. He quickly rose to his feet, took out his handgun, and pointed it at the man, who was now slowly walking towards him, his axe held above his head. "Freeze!" Leon shouted. The man did not stop his advance. "I said, freeze!"

The man continued walking, showed no intention of stopping. If he doesn't stop...I'll have to shoot him. Does he know this? Do these people even know what guns are? It would be unfortunate if someone had to die over a small misunderstanding like this.

The man was still approaching, but there was still a little distance between them before Leon was in danger of being hit by the axe.

Technically, I'm the 'bad guy' here. I'm intruding in his house. However, I knocked, I even called out to him, and he knows I don't want trouble – all I wanted was to ask him if he'd seen Ashley!

Leon was within the axe's reach now.

"I'm going to give you one final warning! Stop, now, or I will shoot y–"

With a grunt, the man moved his arm behind him, and then swung it in an arc at Leon.

Leon pointed his handgun at the man's arm, and fired.

A few words escaped the man's mouth. "...Ugh!...L...Lord...Saddler..." After this, the man collapsed, falling face–first to the ground, and moved no more. Leon looked down at him.

There was a bullet hole in the back of his head.

Damn! I shot him in the head! Leon's aim was perfect. But the man had moved in the time it had taken Leon to aim, and he'd accidentally shot a bullet through the man's brain rather than just into his hand.

All Leon could do was stare down at the man's corpse. He felt guilty. The man, as disturbing as his appearance and voice were, was only guilty of attacking an intruder in his home.

Another part of him, however, deep inside of him, felt relieved. The same part of him that had warned him that the man was dangerous...evil...an enemy.

Suddenly, Leon heard the sound of an engine starting. Leon dashed to the nearest window and looked out. The old truck that had been blocking the path was speeding off in the direction of the police van.

A medley of sounds filled the air soon afterwards. Gunfire, tires screeching, glass shattering, and last, loud crashing sounds.

Leon let out a curse. He hoped that he hadn't just heard the police van going down a cliff. Stay calm. Don't assume the worst.

"¡Aquí está!"

Oh, great. There are more of them. Leon ran over to the door, and tried to open it. It wouldn't budge. It seemed as if someone was pressing against it from the other side. Leon ran back to the window and looked through a slit in the shutters. More men, standing outside. One with an axe, one with a pickaxe, and one with a pitchfork.

Leon looked around the room. What could he do? The cabinets and shelves held various small items, but there was nothing particularly useful in sight. On the dinner table was food. Upon closer inspection, it was rotten food. Leon looked at the fire that the man had been so engrossed in.

No! That can't be a...

There was a femur bone lying in the fireplace! That man had just burned someone's body!

Urged on by the sound of the other men beating on the door, Leon continued quickly exploring the house. He went through a doorway, rounded a corner, went down a hall, and turned to the left. Another cabinet. But...

Human skulls lined the shelves, and the drawers held more skulls and bones!

...I count at least seven skulls here alone. Who knows how many more are here. This man has killed a lot of people.

Leon turned around and quickly walked away from the gruesome spectacle, still looking for a way out of the house, or something useful. Finally, he found himself in front of a window.

I guess this is the only way out of here.

He took a few steps back, covered his face with his arms, ran forward, and leapt straight into the window. The glass shattered, and Leon flew through it, landing outside of the house.

He heard shouts in Spanish. He looked to the left – there were the men. They held their weapons high, and charged at him. Leon turned around and ran – dead end! He cursed. I guess I have no choice! He turned to face the men, slowly approaching him.

"Wait! Please listen to me! I mean you no harm! I am just here to look for someone!"

The men responded with curses in their language.

Leon pointed his handgun at the men. "Damn it, listen to me! Don't come any closer, or I'll have to shoot you!"

The men simply continued to trudge towards Leon. He fired off a warning shot. Then a bullet into one man's leg. It only phased him for a moment. No matter what he said or did, they continued approaching, almost mindlessly. Zombie–like.

Zombie–like...

No. These men...are they...zombies?

The man with the pitchfork swung his weapon back, about to plunge it into Leon.

I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with you, or what's happened to you, but you've forced me to have to kill you.

Three gunshots later, there were three corpses on the ground. Leon was not one of them. He bent down to look at them. They weren't zombies.

Remembering the two policemen, he ran back to the bridge. It was destroyed. He saw tire marks on the ground. His eyes followed them, knowing exactly where they would lead. Off the cliff, and into the river below. Leon bent down at the edge of the cliff, and looked down at the river. The old truck was lying down there, its engine on fire. The police van lay wrecked next to it. Leon stood up. "...No..."

There is something wrong with this place. Something very wrong. It's not just the look of death everywhere – there was something wrong with those men. Their faces, their voices, their eyes...It's like they thirst for blood. And, then, the human bones everywhere...I hope Ashley's okay. The bridge is out, and I'm here to look for Ashley, so pressing forward is the only thing I can do.

Leon ejected an empty clip from his handgun, slid a fresh clip into it, and cocked it.

All right. Let's get going, then.