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To be clear: Leon S. Kennedy fucking hates zombies.
Claire thinks it's hilarious that he's spent essentially his entire adult life either running from or shooting at people who want to eat him alive. He likes to tell Claire over a few too many beers that she's turning into a dirty hippie, at which point the conversation usually devolves into either a wrestling match or the two of them doing tequila shots to the memory of those they left behind.
Also, in case there was any doubt, he resents being sent all the way to Spain to babysit Ashley, who absolutely refuses to do anything he tells her and manages to get kidnapped by Saddler about 80 times a day. Now he's managed to get himself lost in some crazy midget's castle and every single time he so much as opens a door some goon tries to claw his face off - like right now, for example, he's pinned down by one of those monks who is - the Redfields are going to love this one - trying to fry him alive with a giant firebreathing stone dragon statue.
He loads another clip and takes a deep breath, ready to swing out from behind the wall and go to town on that bastard when something shrieks and divebombs his head. Leon drops to the floor and rolls, gun swinging wildly - flying zombie? Rabid bat? when he hears someone giggling, and it doesn't sound like that dipshit Salazar. He's so confused that he almost doesn't hear the sharp crack of a sniper rifle, but suddenly the dragon statue stops breathing fire as the monk pitches over the balustrade into the lava below.
Leon rolls to his feet but keeps his back to the wall and his gun out, although the room has gone strangely quiet after all the moaning and chanting he's so used to. His life has decided to get even weirder, because through the heat haze, he can make out a figure at the other end of the room waving at him. Ganados don't generally wave, he thinks - they're more along the lines of 'chainsaw decapitation' - but he still doesn't holster his gun as he walks back down the hall towards the stranger, even though it's probably Luis, or maybe Blondie managed to grow some balls and rescue herself this time around.
... Or maybe not. There's a rangy kid - ratty dreds, wicked-looking knife strapped to his back, sniper rifle leaning against the wall next to him lounging against the doorway with a grin on his face - and holy fucking shit, some kind of bird - alien - thing - flutters down and lands on the kid's shoulder, bloody beak and all. Leon manages to smile his thanks and extend his hand, even though this might be one of the freakiest encounters he's had so far this week. 'Uh... Leon Scott Kennedy. Thanks for that, by the way.' The guy takes his hand with a surprisingly strong grip, considering how thin he is. 'Mordecai'. He gestures to the bird, 'and this is Bloodwing. And this,' he puts his arm out and points at thin air 'is Lilith.'
Well, Leon thinks, he's just going to smile and nod and back away slowly with whatever dignity he has left - when he's hit with a wash of air and when he looks back, there's a woman standing there where nothing was a second ago. She's gorgeous if you like scary women, and Leon does (Claire Redfield is the scariest woman of all time, in his book, and she and Leon have drunkenly made out more than a few times) all pale skin and red hair and cleavage. She nods and sneers, there's this weird aura around her, shimmering for a second, and then she fades out again. Mordecai slings an arm around his shoulder and guides him carefully out of the room like he's used to people just popping in and out of reality all the time. Then again, Leon thinks, he is in a castle in Spain being chased by crazy alien parasites, so he really should just get it together already.
'We're hunters. Or, I am. Lilith's a witch, and Roland - he's around here somewhere - is a merc. Treasure hunters, killers for hire, yada yada, but here's the thing: we've been keepin' an eye you for a while, and you got a real knack for finding the goods that tiny little munchkin hides all over the place. We're lookin' for this gold goblet, about 8 inches high, lotsa shiny jewels glued on. You seen it?' Mordecai asks, and like an idiot, Leon makes an instinctive move to reach towards his backpack before he checks himself and shakes his head. He doesn't really trust himself to speak at this point because a) he feels like someone has scrambled his brain - where did this people come from? Why in the hell are they rolling around Salazar's joint hunting for treasure? Do they enjoy running for their lives? and b) he has that exact goblet in his bag and he's pretty sure this crew will shoot him and take it. He looks up again at Mordecai, and he knows he's totally screwed, because Mordecai has a big old shit eating grin on his face and he's reaching for his knife.
There's another wicked laugh, and then Lilith is there again, dropping in real close. Leon freezes, so she steps forward, wraps her arms around his waist, and plants one on him. It's hot as hell, all breathy sighs and her nails tracing circles down his back - and something's wrong. He can't feel his face. He pushes her away, staggering backwards and touches his hand to his lips - poison? In the next instant he's going down, falling against a hard chest, and he hears the kid chuckling in his ear as he sinks into darkness.
Leon Scott Kennedy has had some pretty terrible hangovers in his short life, because let's face it, whiskey is a pretty effective way to forget about the shit he sees every day. He has not, however, woken up feeling quite as shitty as he feels right now in a very long time. His tongue's stuck to the roof of his mouth, dinner is dancing the flamenco in his stomach, and his skin feels like it's about to fall off. In short, he's sort of hoping Salazar comes along and kills him so he doesn't have to feel like this anymore. He drags himself to his feet and takes stock - no bullet holes, no zombie bites... no gold, at all, anywhere. All the treasure he's found is gone, and all there is anymore in his backpack is a really really weird looking gun and a note, which reads:
Dear Leon Scott Kennedy,
Sorry about that. We need the goblet more than you do, we swear - something about a bounty on us and having to pay off the dickheads who put it out for collection. Anyway, if you need help again, just holler 'cause Lillith's pretty good about getting in where other people don't want her and she's got a thing for blondes. Watch out, she bites.
See you soon,
M
P.S. Try this gun out. We think you'll be pleasantly surprised.
Leon stuffs the note in his pocket and swears a couple times. Unless he's much mistaken that stupid cup was one of the keys to one of the ridiculous puzzles Salazar's left all round his house, so he's probably pretty fucked right now. He picks up the new gun - it's warm to the touch and pulses slightly, although it settles into his hand perfectly. He hefts it, aims it at the wall, and presses what he assumes is the trigger.
10 seconds later, he manages to pick his jaw up off the floor and peer through the massive hole he's blasted through the wall into the room next door, where there's the wreckage of a table and about 3/4ths of a Garrador and a few Zealots arms and legs.
Yes, he thinks, as he tucks the gun against the small of his back. This will do quite nicely. He's still got Ashley to rescue and zombies to kill, but he's pretty excited to see the damage he can do to Saddler with this bad boy.
He walks out into the hallway with a lighter pack and an awesome gun, and opens the very first door he sees with a smile on his face.