Chapter Text
Arkansas Black Site, October 3rd 1998
The silence was deafening, no voices of pedestrians, no Marvin welcoming them into the RPD, no sirens, or the sound of Irons chewing them out, just dust and echoes remained.
The memory of the bright glow from the outskirts filled her mind. 48 hours ago, she’d walked out of hell after thinking she’d seen the deepest depths hell could go, the previous July.
Staring at her pitch dark reflection, Jill didn’t see herself. She couldn’t explain what she saw. The reflection was hers, but it was corrupted, as if she was staring at an evil twin. It was hollow, nothing staring back, twisted by the cracks of the room's previous occupants.
The silence of the room was broken by the smallest murmur of her fellow occupant. “Love the accommodations.” Leon remarked as he lightly tugged at his hand, which found itself cuffed to the table. The rookie officer's humor remained intact while his uniform was in tatters, covered in blood, ash, and god knows what else. “Room service is slow, but nothing beats this, does it? Jill?”
She didn’t answer. Her eyes were still fixed on her reflection, the glass was like that in the RPD’s interrogation room, one-sided glass with a person in a fancy pull-up chair staring back at the prisoner with a hot cup of coffee. All that was missing was the-
The sound of the prison's door opening broke her out of her concentration. “Sorry for the wait, had to finish some paperwork.” A man’s voice greeted the two survivors as they entered the room and sat down across from them. “Let me remove those for both of you.” A handcuff key was produced with the individual turning towards Leon and freeing him of his restraints.
“Who might you be?” Leon asked while starting to rub his newly freed wrists.
“That is on a need-to-know basis for now.” The man turned to her and began to free her wrists from the handcuffs. “Let’s just say I’m a person with mutual interest in both of you fine folks, given your information.”
Jill stretched her now free wrists as she watched their interrogator place two file folders in front of them. “Information?” The man took a sip of coffee as she noticed an ID clipped to the man's black suit. “A. Benford,” the ID had no recognizable logo, which answered the question on her mind.
Leon slammed one hand on the table as he stood up from his chair, both hands now clenched tightly. “Where’s Sherry?” He demanded, now towering over the table looking at their interrogator whose body language remained unchanged.
“Sit,” Benford demanded sternly.
“If you think I’m gonn-“ A hand on his shoulder was the only signal he needed. Glancing to his left, he met Jill’s eyes, who had remained seated. Reluctantly, he obeyed her wishes and sat down, crossing his arms at his chest.
“Sherry is fine, you’ll see her soon, but now, there are some questions I have.” The man leaned forward as he opened the first folder without looking at either of the two. “Jill Valentine, 23 years old, born December 1974, former Delta Force at 21, S.T.A.R.S. operative at 22 served 1996 to 1998 before being suspended and placed under house arrest by the RPD Internal Affairs board. Am I missing anything former Officer Valentine?”
Jill raised an eyebrow. “Former?”
The man didn’t acknowledge her comment as he swiped the second file folder and opened it up. “Officer Leon S. Kennedy, hell of a first shift for a rookie cop?”
Leon let out a humorless chuckle as he scoffed. “Tell me about it. Usually you get a welcome card and an orientation video, but I will add that if you keep reading my file, you’ll soon reach the part where it mentions my short fuse.” He warned.
The man chuckled as he leaned back in his chair before sipping his cup of coffee as he closed the second file. “File did mention you were a smartass.”
Leon turned towards Jill, who hadn’t spoken a single word as her mind was racing. “See Jill, I’ve got some fans after all.”
“Enough with the jokes, Kennedy, I want to know everything, how a rookie cop and a disgraced S.T.A.R.S. operative managed to survive a nightmare out of hell.” The man growled as he glared daggers at Leon.
The room fell into silence for several moments before a faint audible sigh from Leon was heard which was quieter than a penny dropping. “Fine but if I do, you have to show us where Sherry is.”
“Deal.” The man’s face formed a small grin as he reached into his suit's pocket and pulled out a mini-recorder which he carefully slid into the middle of the interrogation table. “October 3rd, 1998 questioning of RPD Officer Leon S. Kennedy, take it away, Officer.”
——————————————————————
Raccoon City, September 30th, 1998
The sound of the patrol car speeding away from the gas station echoed along the abandoned freeway.
“Wait, you’re a cop?”
“Yeah, Leon Kennedy.” He answered without looking away from the road. His hands had begun to tightly grip the steering wheel as the faint light of the gas station grew dimmer and dimmer in the distance. He could feel his heart racing 100 beats a second. “You are…?”
“Claire….Claire Redfield.”
“Live around here?”
“No, looking for my brother. He’s a cop too.”Her main focus was on Chris. Her brother, once close, had become distant and quiet. Usually she heard a call from him at the drop of the hat whether it was to be checking in on her grades, when she was visiting next, or life.
“Well, it’s a good thing we found each other. I don’t know what to expect anymore.”
The car fell into silence as the one noise heard was the rain impacting the window and being swiftly wiped aside by the car's wipers. Off to the right, he briefly caught a glance at a “Welcome To Raccoon City” sign.
As Leon focused on driving, Claire had begun to inspect the radio of the patrol car. Flicking the radio to life, she began to turn the knob to different radio frequencies only to be greeted with pure static. Turning to her fellow survivor, she decided to break the ice. “How long have you been on the job?”
“I was supposed to start last week but got a call to stay away.” Leon explained without taking his eye off the road.
“Yet you decided to come here anyway?” Claire responded.
Leon sighed as his body tensed up. “It’s a long story.”
“We have time.” Claire responded as she began her rummage through the patrol car's glove compartment. Inside were scraps of paper related to traffic citations and other papers, but not what she was looking for.
“Tell you what, once we get out of here, I’ll tell you over a cup of coffee.” Leon responded, his eyes finally leaving the road and glancing at his passenger.
A small smile formed on the corner of her face as she glanced at her fellow survivor. “Sounds like a plan.”
The rest of the drive was in silence. Neither survivor spoke as the rain continued to impact the car as the surroundings changed from rural woods into the city streets of Raccoon City. On both sides of the road, cars were left in disrepair left to the elements, some had their doors left open while others still had their lights running with faint flickers in rhyme.
Her memory of Raccoon City had changed. Driving in on her motorcycle before today, she’d been greeted by people wandering the streets. Neighbors talked amongst each other while crowds of people walked amongst each other in peace. That was all a thing of the past at that moment in time.
“Jesus.” Claire remarked, her face pressed against the patrol car's window as she watched two of those things chewing apart something on the ground. Cringing in disgust, she turned away as the car continued its gradual journey through the cramped streets.
Leon glanced out the window at the passing infected his body, tensing as his fingers had begun to finally go white from how tight his hands had been on the wheel. “We’ve got to get to the station, they’ll have communications, resources, and if I had to guess where your brother will be.” His foot pressed down on the accelerator ever so slightly.
Claire nodded in agreement. “I hope so, and that he’s safe wherever he is.”
“Attention all citizens. Due to the citywide 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 message is repeated every few seconds with the loudspeaker’s message being the only other voice heard for miles. As the patrol car rolled down the narrow road, it had begun to feel more cluttered as the abandoned vehicles closed in on them, narrowing the lanes the farther the car went.
Leon’s focus had shifted to remaining calm. Someone had to be alive, a city with a population as big as Raccoon City couldn’t be abandoned, there had to be somebody still left in this wasteland. He refused to believe his first day would be arriving at a ghost town both figuratively and literally.
His focus turned to Claire after she asked the question on his mind. “What if there are no survivors?”
Leon shook his head, his mind racing as he refused to accept that reality. “No. There are survivors.” He had to keep Claire hopeful, if he lost hope as a cop then hope truly died. “It’s a big city…there has to be.” He added, as his foot slammed down on the break.
The vehicle slowed down as it reached the end of the road. Barriers had blocked off their path, with the only way being either out on foot into the unknown or reversing the car down the path they’d just come from. Before either of the two spoke, the sound of banging brought him back to reality as the living dead started slamming the patrol car from both sides, trapping them inside the equivalent of an iron cage.
Glancing at her window and then in the rear mirror, Claire finally turned to her fellow survivor. “Leon, you have to back up.”
“I’m trying.” The sound of a truck’s horn sent a chill down his spine. Faint lights in the distance slowly started to grow brighter and brighter with each passing moment as a tractor-trailer came into view, they were trapped inside a cage from all sides, truly a rock in a hard place, if a rock was about to be crushed by two bigger rocks.
Slamming against the door, the living dead refused to budge even an inch, keeping them pinned in their seats. His heart began to race as the truck grew closer and closer before eventually swerving ever so slightly into the parked cars. “Hold on!” He screamed right as the truck made contact, a loud bang was heard as their car was sent careening forward like an out of control pinball before coming to a stop, the living dead long gone.
Upon coming to a stop, it felt like the first minutes of a hangover. His insides felt like they were on his outsides and his head was nursing an awful headache. “Get moving Kennedy, come on.” He told himself as he opened the driver-side door of the patrol car. Getting to his feet, he could feel the wet rain coming down onto his shoulders as he glanced at his surroundings.
By some miracle, he’d come out of the wreck mostly unscathed, his adrenaline came running back to him along with the new smell of gasoline. “Oh no.” Turning away from the fallen truck, he broke into a sprint just as the tanker ignited into a fireball, engulfing the middle of the street and the patrol car.
“Claire!!” He screamed at the burning wreck, his heart racing as he waited for a response.
“I’m okay!” She screamed from the other side of the burning corpse of what was once a car. “I’ll meet you at the station, go!” She ordered.
Turning behind him, the faint groaning of the living dead greeted him. “Please let this be a bad dream, I’ll be waking up any minute.” He told himself as he narrowly ducked under a zombie's attempt to attack him. Glancing back at the zombie, he took aim, and pulled the trigger, a single loud pop was heard followed by the slide going back. “Of course.” He grumbled while sprinting down the nearby alleyway as the zombies started closing in on him.
As he rounded the bend, passing the burning dumpster, he heard the faint sound of a corpse standing back on its feet. The brittle joints cracked as its once living host began to let out a painful, non-human screech as it made eye contact with its food.
Ducking under a second zombie which lunged at him, he sprinted up the stairs, his heart now beating out of his chest once more now feeling like 100 beats per second. As he exited the stairs back onto street level, he could see the metal sign of the RPD in the distance. “Almost there, come on Kennedy, you got this.” He pumped himself up as he scrambled through the claustrophobic street.
As he made his mad dash, he passed by two more infected corpses who were chewing on their appetizers, with both soon turning to face him. The two corpses slowly rose from their meal and began to pursue him. Leon scrambled through the RPD’s iron gates, slamming them shut behind him. “I hope you made it, Claire,” he thought as he secured the lock of the front gate.
Turning to face the RPD’s front door, he glanced back at the flame engulfing the streets one final time before pressing onward. Pushing the front doors wide open, his heart dropped. “No,” he frowned as he inspected the empty lobby. “Hello, is anyone here?” He called out.
Inspecting his surroundings, he saw the lobby had been turned into a makeshift hospital. Bloody rags and bedsheets lay in tatters on makeshift tables, beds were lined with blood and IV lines lay completely empty. Both the safety shutters were locked up tight, with power by some miracle still being on.
As he advanced further into the lobby, on the front lobby desk in front of him lay a lone magazine. Swiping it off the desk, he inserted it into his handgun with the click and slide being chambered once again confirming he was locked and loaded. Off to his left was a computer monitor with a bloody palm print on the desk to the left of the monitor.
“Someone has to be alive, come on.” He started scrolling from camera to camera in the RPD. The first camera he stopped on was filled with the undead with three zombie police officers roaming a hallway labeled East Hallway with two others lying on the ground unmoving. A second camera labeled West Hallway, the 2nd floor, showed no zombies but rather a trail of blood leading off camera and up a wall. Stopping on a final camera, his optimism hit a low point, his face changing from a neutral expression to a frown after he saw the state of the RPD’s garage. Several bodies lay unmoving while others torn into their new meals.
A sudden thud nearby took his attention off the monitor. Swinging around with his handgun, he scanned his surroundings, the thud was replaced by the distant groaning of the zombies and the rain impacting the window of the RPD. Walking out from behind the desk he could hear his heart in his throat. With every step he took, it felt like his heart could possibly explode. He almost jumped after he heard the foreign sound for a second time, it almost sounded like wet boots stomping. “RPD! Identify yourself.”
The thud was this time followed up by faint unnatural breathing. Gripping his gun tightly, Leon rounded the corner as he was greeted by a scene which sent a chill down his spine. Standing with his back to him was an officer in full uniform, their arms were at their side, but something in his gut was telling him not to approach, yet his instincts relented. “Officer, are you okay?”
He didn’t get a response except for a small grunt. The figures' hands were covered in crimson red blood stains with it looking as if they’d attempted to quell bleeding. “Officer.” Leon repeated, his hands now tightened around the grip of his handgun.
The figure finally began to turn around, revealing the ugly truth. A husk of a corpse stared at him, pale skin with a huge bite mark on the left side of their uniform being the likely cause of infection. Slowly raising his weapon at the infected officer, his hands shook. “Don’t come any closer!” He warned the zombie.
The walking corpse didn’t listen to his requests as it started to slowly advance on the rookie officer. He couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger, as his hands shook violently. “I said step back!” His voice cracked.
Reaching the wall of the lobby, his hands refused to pull the trigger, he was frozen in fear. The walking corpse growled as it continued its approach, now inches from Leon’s face. His hands refused to move despite his mind screaming at him to act. With one last growl, the zombie lunged forward at its prey with a gut-wrenching loud screech following.
A single gunshot filled the air as his body tensed up awaiting the strike. The strike never came, as Leon saw the corpse lying on the ground, blood rushing from the head. The smell of gunpowder filled the air as he looked down at his weapon. He hadn’t shot as his weapon remained with a full magazine his fingers nowhere near the trigger.
The sudden sound of approaching boots turned his attention away from the corpse with him aiming his weapon at the newcomer. “You’re not Claire.”
“Yeah I’m not, now do you mind lowering that weapon.” The woman responded as she loaded a fresh magazine into her handgun before raising her left hand as a sign to calm him down. “My name is Jill…Jill Valentine, and you are?”
Finally lowering his gun back into his holster the rookie cop took a moment to catch his breath as he looked at the corpse and then back at his savior. “Leon Kennedy.” He responded while pressing one of his hands to his chest as he attempted to slow his breathing.
A look of realization fell on Jill’s face as she approached her fellow survivor with a calming demeanor. “You’re that Leon, I see you chose a hell of a first day to come in. A spare uniform is in the office West office, I already cleared it out so you shouldn’t have any problems grabbing your blues, if you can manage that.” She pointed at the door across the way marked with a fading RPD logo.
Leon nodded as he went to head to the door before Jill placed an arm on his shoulder. “One last thing, when you see one of those things wearing a uniform you do not hesitate, you either put it down or run, freezing is not an option if you want to survive hell on earth, got it?” She asked while releasing her grip on his shoulder.
“Yes Ma’am.” Leon said as he disappeared through the West Office door.
Pushing open the door he was met by pitch darkness. Using his flashlight he began to shine it around the room until the light fell upon a group of hanging colorful letters which were suspended over the desks.
“Welcome Leon.”
Staring at the colorful letters he let out a somber hollow sigh. Shining his light just below the letters revealed the bloody mess of the office with deflated balloons and blood littering the floor.
“Yeah. Hell of a first day indeed, Jill.” He muttered.