Chapter Text
You've had many crushes in your life. They tended to alternate between real, flesh-and-blood men and pixelated, but practically perfect men. Any crushes you managed to develop in your physical life nearly always ended in rejection. You've only had a few crushes evolve into actual relationships, and all of those ended in disaster. One way or another, you always ended up single again. Yet every time you found yourself freshly single, the refuge of your virtual life always welcomed you back with a sculpted body and a firm embrace.
Your recent obsession was a recurring one: Leon S. Kennedy. The S stands for Sex Incarnate you thought to yourself every time you read his full name. You had purchased Requiem the first day it was released, despite the gnawing emptiness of your bank account and wallet, solely for him. You played and enjoyed the Grace sections, but you lived for seeing Leon bless your television screen. He had aged like a literal star; with time's passage he only grew larger and brighter before culminating in one last breathtaking explosion. His dirty blonde hair was now streaked with grey and his face was more wrinkled than it had been in the previous games. But his body. His body was incredible. You had specifically hunted down every warped door and cabinet in the Care Center just to see that blessed camera angle again. Each time you imagined those thick arms wrapping around you and holding you firmly against him. Or, perhaps if you were in a different mood, you would imagine those arms grabbing, dragging, and throwing you down onto your bed. His fingers winding themselves through your hair before hauling your head back until your back arched and you were completely bared to him. Vulnerable. Submissive.
Each night you immersed yourself in Leon's world. Enjoying the rumble of his voice as he made his way through the horrors surrounding the Care Center and Raccoon City. Each morning you woke early, dressed in respectable blouses, and sold your soul for another paycheck. Your boss and colleagues were perfectly fine people. In fact you would even call a few of them friends. But when your office clock finally wound its way back to five o'clock you promptly shut down and clocked out. You weren't being paid for overtime after all.
The first day something strange happened started like any other day.
After a boring day at work you headed home. You toed your heels off in the entry way and placed them in your shoe rack. You slipped out of your constricting work clothes, removed your bra, and donned something looser and softer. You made yourself a cup of tea, ate a quick dinner, and booted up RE9 again. At this point you had already finished the main story once on standard difficulty. It was a surprisingly short game and you needed more Leon in your life.
As you made your way through the desolate ruins of Raccoon City once again you paid special attention to Leon's quips. You knew most of them by heart at this point. Finally, you found yourself once again facing Mr. X. As Tyrant held up the missile, Leon uttered your favorite phrase in perhaps the entire game.
"Fuck me." He said as he turned to run for cover.
"With pleasure." You casually replied. You had said it every time you heard that line ever since your first play through. This time however, Leon seemed to stumble as he sought cover. Ooo cool detail. I must have missed that before. you thought to yourself. Then, cinema.
"I couldn't save them," Leon practically groans as he hoists himself up off the ground. "But at least I can stop bastards like you." He declares as he shoots the second missile in Mr. X's hands. You screamed. Not loud enough that your neighbors would hear you and be concerned. It was a high pitched declaration of adoration for the man. When you opened your eyes again and your chest had unclenched, you noticed something new.
Leon was looking directly at the camera. Or rather, directly at you. It was just a quick glance before he was up and the fight began in earnest. You didn't think much of it. It was just another detail you had missed before. You continued the fight, slaying Mr. X with ease, before closing the game for the night.
As you turned off the light and slid between your covers, you saw Leon look at you again. Behind your eyelids, his glance seared into you. A small voice in the back of your mind whispered It felt like he was looking right at me. Not the camera, but through it. You dismissed the voice and shoved it into the back of your mind. For now, you needed sleep.
You saw that glance in your dreams.
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The next day could have been a repeat of the day prior. Everything was the same. Your conversations at work were the same. Your tasks were the same. Only the clock had changed. Logically you knew it was the next day, but it felt identical. That feeling persisted when you arrived home. Again, you slipped out of your work clothes, ate, and booted up RE9. Now you found yourself in a different section of Raccoon City. The enemies here were slightly stronger and more aggressive and you found yourself cornered and surrounded by enemies. You cursed and frantically tried to get Leon out of the situation without getting him hurt. You parried, slashed, shot, and dodged as quickly as you could. Finally Leon managed to wiggle out of the corner. You spun him quickly and fired his shotgun straight at the heads of the last few enemies. The spray caught all three and knocked them into each other before they fell in a heap on the floor. Two went down instantly, and you pushed Leon to rush in and finish off the last one with his hatchet. As the combat music died down, you heard Leon's voice rumble unexpectedly through your headphones.
"That was close. Be more careful next time." You paused. Who was he talking to? You waited for someone to respond, but no other voice spoke. Leon was alone in a room in an abandoned city surrounded by corpses. Sherry was not actively calling him. And who was he telling to be more careful? Himself? That didn't make sense. Leon had never been one to tell himself to do things or not. He talked to himself sure, but not like that.
You shrugged it off and kept playing.
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Small moments like this began happening more frequently as the days progressed. You noticed Leon glancing in the direction of the camera more. He said things that didn't make sense and that sounded almost like he was talking to you. You even started responding, unable to let his advice or complaints go unanswered.
"Watch out!" He exclaimed as he turned a corner without looking and ran ankle first into a zombie sprawled on the floor. The dead man clung to Leon's leg as it clamped its teeth down on his shin. Leon grunted in pain before shoving the zombie off of him. You quickly knocked it to the ground and decapitated it.
"Sorry!" you apologized, "I didn't see him." you explained back to him as if he could hear you. He didn't respond, just followed your inputs in game.
You had him leap off the top of a wall and drop what must have been 15 feet onto the cracked tile floor of a building. He effortlessly tucked into a roll to help cushion the landing as he had so many times before, but not before sucking in a sharp breath that hissed between his clenched teeth. That one hurt.
"You know my knees aren't what they used to be." He groaned to no one.
"I know Leon. Sorry. It's either that or get grabbed again." You urged him on as you frantically ran from enemies. A quiet sigh pierced the atmospheric music in your headphones. Did he hear me? Was that sigh a response to what I said? You hesitated and paused the game before taking a deep breath.
"Calm down." you told yourself between deep breaths. "This is a little strange, sure. But I'm sure it's just a new feature." You thought for a moment about getting on Reddit and asking the RE communities if they were experiencing anything similar. But you decided against it, returning to the game.
When you found yourself back in Grace's shoes with the goal of moving the crane from Leon's path, you peered back out of the vent he had boosted you into. "I'll be right back Leon. Hang in there!" you said as you bid him farewell for now. Your chest ached knowing that he was in pain and you were leaving him. Even if you knew how the game ended, you still didn't like seeing Leon in pain. This time he turned towards you. He looked up at where Grace must have been crouching, the beam of his flashlight swept across the camera. He crossed his arms and tilted his head slightly down and to the side in a silent question.
"Well hurry up then." You flinched as he again, responded to what you said. Grace hadn't said anything. You did. In your living room, in your apartment, in Salt Lake City. This is some insane programming you thought to yourself as you watched Leon stare at your unmoving figure. Slightly unnerved, you turned Grace around and started down the vent.
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After you finished the story for a second time you decided to try out the new game mode Capcom had released: Leon Must Die Forever. If you have anything to say about it, Leon wouldn't die ever. You slogged through work that day anticipating being able to return home and try out the new game mode. But more importantly, you were excited to see Leon unleashed against hordes of zombies. You left work a few minutes early that day in an attempt to reach your car before the dark grey clouds that blanketed the sky unleashed what was sure to be a deluge of water on you.
By the time you opened your apartment door the rain had started. It splashed idyllically against your windows. You quickly got down to business. Your first few runs in LMDF were an absolute disaster as you learned the rules, the maps, and developed your own style of fighting. After a number of attempts, each progressing further than the last, you finally reached Victor. You'd had some insane luck, pulling not only the best submachine gun, but also Zeno and Victor's guns. You were stuffed to the brim with ammo and had a near perfect set of skills.
The only thing you were lacking was time.
You had taken your sweet time looting the Care Center and the streets of Raccoon City, and you had the loot and skills to show for it. You had hoped that you would have enough time, but once you reached the door that lead to Victor, you felt anxiety coiling in your gut. You had forty seconds left. There was no way you could do this, even with the extra time you were given for changing zones. But still, you tried.
You went in guns blazing; magnums firing, and submachine guns roaring. The cracks and pops of your firearms mimicked the crack of lightning outside. You prioritized headshots, praying for extra damage. But Victor moved too much and you were too close. In your rush, Leon was hit by several of Victor's attacks back-to-back. He staggered to his feet, the screen pulsing red with imminent death. You frantically ran and pressed the heal button. But you weren't fast enough. Victor lashed you with his mutated arm, Leon staggered, and collapsed. The screen darkened, the music cut out, and the words "You have died" burned into your eyes. You groaned, set your controller down, and rested your head in your hands.
"Oh my god no." you moaned. "I can't believe I did that. I panicked!" your voice pitched up as if there was someone in the room you had to explain yourself to. "And I had such good guns too!" Exasperated, you pulled up the results menu and looked at the arsenal you had acquired for yourself. I'll never get all these guns again.
Disheartened you backed out to the main LMDF menu and removed your headphones. Outside the wind howled and the occasional crack of lightning lit up the sky, casting silhouettes of the naked trees outside your window into your room. Their branches looked like skeletal fingers that made your skin crawl. On screen, Leon posed in black and white, the eye closest to you glowed red from beneath his bangs. He seemed to be staring straight at you. You felt pinned under his gaze, irrevocably drawn back to him. His gleaming red eye was the only color in your dark room.
"What?" You asked the screen accusingly. "Why are you staring at me like that?" Of course Leon didn't answer. But you could have sworn you saw his eye brighten. You were about to continue explaining yourself when an exceptionally loud crack of lightning and thunder flooded your room with light. You jumped, a small shriek escaping you as your heart leapt into your throat. Instinctually, you threw yourself down on the ground. The crack had sounded so similar to gunfire you had reacted automatically.
You took a deep breath. It's just a storm. It's not guns. You're safe. You're okay. You told yourself quietly as you eased yourself up into a sitting position. Luckily it appeared as if your electricity was still on. Leon's figure still displayed on your tv. The black and white image was the only source of light in your room. Getting up, you straightened your shirt and pants and crossed the room. You peered outside as you closed the curtains. The street was flooded. Small rivers ran downhill on both sides of the street. The street lamps were still on and no trees had fallen. That's good. The last thing you wanted was a downed tree right outside of your building.
Once the curtains were closed tight you crossed to the opposite side of the room and flicked on the light switch. Two floor lamps on either side of your couch flickered to life. That's when you noticed movement.
A hand. There was a hand sticking out of your television screen. You froze, unsure if you were hallucinating or not. The hand groped for something, anything to grab, before finding the edge of the television. The fingers wrapped firmly around the frame before stilling. As you squinted in the gloom you could see the tendons in the wrist and forearm straining. Then the opposite side of your tv screen rippled. Leon's face was still displayed in the background, but the image itself rippled and distorted as a second hand forced its way through the screen. The hard material that would normally shatter if an object passed through it bent like jello; sturdy yet flexible. The second hand slowly emerged, reaching outwards into your living room before it found and clamped onto the opposite edge of the tv screen. Then both arms strained and the screen began to ripple violently. Out of the center of the screen a mass of hair and skin began to push through.
Holy fuck something is coming out of my tv. the realization dawned on you. What the fuck? You sucked in a sharp breath and dove behind the sofa, crouched down and pressed into the back. The only things you knew about that came out of television screens were cursed ghosts who wanted to kill whoever was watching their cursed video tape. Silently you thanked your ex for forcing you to watch The Ring. At least you knew what was happening! Sort of.
A sound cut through your thoughts: a groan followed by a huff. Like whoever was coming through your tv was using every ounce of strength they had to pull themselves through. You silently prayed that they were too preoccupied to be looking at the surrounding room and quickly grabbed your controller off of the arm of your couch where you had left it. You snuck a quick glance at your tv. Whoever this was was almost out. Their torso had appeared and they were nearing the end of their arm's reach as they pulled their hips through. You didn't wait to see anymore before ducking down to hide again.
A few seconds later you heard a heavy thump as the body fell, finally free of the tv, onto your living room floor. Now was the time. Whoever this was, they were obviously here to kill you. It was you or them. You gripped your controller firmly, trying to not let it fly out of your hand from the copious amount of sweat slicking your skin, and lunged around the corner of the couch. Your footsteps pounded against the floor as you flew at your assailant, who was shifting their weight to get to their feet. You had one shot. You gripped the controller tighter, aimed one of the pointy handholds at the person's temple, and swung downwards with all your strength.
"Die bitch!" you barreled, your voice coming out an octave lower and far rougher than you had ever heard yourself before. The person clearly heard you coming and ducked out of the way and to the left. Your controller slammed into the floor and shattered. You lifted the remaining wreckage still held together by wires and began to redirect. You had to find them. Before you could begin to turn around something long and hard as a bat slammed into the bottoms of your shins. The force knocked your feet out from under you and you slammed face first onto the floor. Your head rang, and a haze descended on your senses, blurring your eyesight and hearing. You spun around so that you were on your back to look at your attacker.
"Don't move!" A rough voice slammed into your chest and ears. The command acting as a paralytic, freezing you in place until your brain could catch up with your eyes.
A thick, gleaming, rectangular object was pointed straight at you. It took a moment for your fuzzy brain to register that this was the muzzle of a gun. A massive one at that. You could just make out the cylinder of bullets protruding from the side of the barrel. Two gloved hands held it firmly, one finger poised above the trigger. Those hands were connected to arms. Arms that were uncovered, skin glowing in the lamplight. Behind that you could make out a dark blue shirt that fit snuggly over a large chest. But most glaring of all, was the face. His face. Rough and worn like he'd been to hell and back, greying hair that fell in soft straight locks to just below his cheekbones and covered his jaw in stubble. And pale blue eyes simmering beneath a furrowed brow.
Your brain short circuited as all thought ground to a screeching halt. Your grip on your controller faltered and the splintered plastic slipped from your hand. he stood over you, one foot on either side of your hips in a wide, immovable stance. His finger moved off the trigger, but kept the gun pointed at you.
"Who are you?" He asked. His voice still laden with authority. But now, from your frozen position on the floor beneath him you could see confusion etched into his expression.
Holy shit, Leon Kennedy was in your house.