Chapter Text
Midtown East...sort of, New York City 12:23 am
“This is not how I imagined I’d spend New Year’s Eve.”
DSO agent Leon S. Kennedy had been driving from Washington D.C. to New York City for at least four hours in his black Porsche Cayenne Turbo GT. He had just been assigned by DSO to investigate and contain a possible bioterrorist threat, right after the NYPD press conference at the 17th Precinct earlier that morning. It was just another night on the job for Leon S. Kennedy, having to travel at a moment’s notice. Part of him had hoped that it would be an easy investigation so that he could go home as soon as possible. He already accepted that he wasn’t going to celebrate New Year’s Eve this time around.
His hotel was already booked, courtesy of his job of course. They managed to book him an entire hotel suite at the historical Plaza Hotel, which is somewhere on 5th Ave near Central Park South. The latest he could check-in was at midnight, but they made an exception for him as a federal agent, so he was relieved that the staff checked him into his hotel suite anyway. Leon was to go to the NYPD 17th Precinct to find Captain Aya Brea and Officer Anastasia Baldanova, the two officers whom he saw in the press conference.
The front desk receptionist was able to complete check-in with Leon by confirming his booking details and handing him his key card afterwards. The receptionist asked, “Now, because you are staying in one of our Legacy Suites, you have full access to our Plaza Butler Service.”
“Butler service?” Leon raised an eyebrow at the receptionist. He was very confused as to what kind of hotel offered butler service.
The receptionist continued, “Would you like me to summon a butler to the desk right now to escort you up and assist with your luggage, or would you prefer to head up on your own?"
“Sounds a little too fancy for me, so I think I’d rather head up on my own.” He wondered to himself, “What kind of hotel room did the DSO book for me this time?”
Leon took the elevator to one of the top floors. He stood before a grey door with a brass art deco detail on it, which had the numbers 1839 on it. It was in The Gatsby Suite with a king sized bed. This elegant suite was inspired by the glamor of the 1920s, a tribute to the era of dazzling soirées and timeless elegance with its art deco inspired design. The lavish one-bedroom suite featured a separate, intimate living room area with sleek black furniture and curated art throughout the space, capturing the spirit of the Jazz Age.
Leon whistled to himself, “Faaaancy. Guess the DSO has been feeling the holiday spirit lately.” He then understood why the staff offered him a Plaza Butler service. “Huge upgrade from what they usually book. ”
He checked out the bedroom, which had a tiered waterfall chandelier with geometric rectangular crystals that seemingly cascaded down the three tiers. It overlooked the king sized bed which was also sleek and streamlined with a white pillows and sheets that contrast against the simple black bed frame. The walls had various shades of grey and white with some panels decorated with a subtle art deco wallpaper. Throughout the suite had different pictures of F. Scott Fitzgerald and still photos from the 2013 version of The Great Gatsby movie.
Leon was quite pleased with the hotel room that DSO had booked for him. It must have been a huge expense to book this, even for a week, but he was most certainly not complaining one bit. He walked over to the study and took a seat at the desk.
Sherry contacted Leon through his earpiece. “Leon, have you arrived in New York yet?”
“Yeah, just checked into the hotel suite. Didn’t think the DSO would be generous enough to book me this really fancy room.”
“Well, it’s technically still the holiday season so maybe they figured you deserve a lavish hotel suite in New York.”
“I ain't complaining. It’s the least they could do after the shit they put me through over the years." Leon put the address for the 17th Precinct into his phone GPS. "I’m going back out to find the 17th Precinct. I’ve been told that the Captain is working the holiday shift, so I should be able to catch her.”
Sherry asked, “Have you seen anything unusual yet?”
“Not yet, but I get the feeling that I will soon enough.” Leon said as if he were expecting just another regular night on the job.
“Keep me posted.” Leon clicked off after that.
The minute stepped out of the Plaza Hotel, Eve’s Mitochondrial Creatures were there to greet Leon. There were random mutated humans, rats, and pigeons that became grotesque versions of themselves, with bulging eyes, torn up flesh, and terrifying elongated teeth. They were bigger and more frightening than non-mutant versions of themselves, which made Leon wonder if they were new types of bio-organic weapons. However, he would have to figure that out later as all of them were getting ready to pounce on him and tear his flesh apart.
“Looks like the locals are throwin’ me a New Year’s Eve welcome party. How sweet!” Leon unsheathed his hatchet from behind and grinned, “And they say New Yorkers are rude.”
One of the mutant rats had torn up flesh and three pronged tails that could snap Leon’s flesh in a millisecond. It let out a crazed squeak before lunging at Leon to take a bite out of him. Leon immediately swung his hatchet and decapitated the overgrown rodent. Blood was spurting out of where its head used to be as its main body fell to the ground with a thump.
“Come on, don’t be shy!” He called out to the creatures as he sharpened his tactical hatchet mid-battle. “There’s plenty of me to go around!”
Another mutated rat was getting ready to shoot fireballs from its blood red three pronged tail. As the fireballs shot out of its tail, Leon took his hatchet and managed to physically deflect those fireballs back towards the large mutant rodent, effectively burning it. Once the flames died out, Leon hacked the rat into bloody pieces before stomping on its head with his foot. Blood splatters decorated his black Adidas hiking boots in a Jackson Pollock-like manner.
Mutant pigeons were flying above Leon, aiming their butts at him. Leon did a backflip to dodge mutant pigeon poop, but as he turned to look at his side, the ground next to him eroded from the high acid content of the mutant bird feces. Leon muttered to himself, “I know that ain’t a sign of good luck.”
He sighed as he shot all of the mutant pigeons with immense accuracy and ease with his handy, dandy Alligator Snapper– a semi-automatic handgun that was custom-built by Joseph Kendo and issued to the DSO. Without even looking, he shot the mutated people that were about to attack him from behind. He turned around and sent one of the mutated people flying with his spinning hook kick and roundhouse kick. He stomped on both of their heads while they were still on the ground, crushing their skulls into bloody pulp.
Leon proceeded to make his way back to his Porsche. He saw another mutant person, a terrifying lady with her eyes rolled back and rotting teeth with a permanently open jaw blocking his driver seat door. “Hey, don’t touch my car! I’ll kill ya if you leave a mark on it.”
The angry mutant lady let out a screech with murderous intent for Leon. But Leon just yawned and grabbed her head, dragging her towards another car parked next to his before he slammed her head against its doors. Leon slammed her head again so hard that he crushed her skull against the neighboring car door with his bare hands, making a loud squish sound before blood spurted everywhere. Leon’s signature black leather jacket with a faux fur trimmed collar was now covered in blood. He saw that his black tactical gloves were stained with red. “Welp, guess tomorrow’s laundry day again.”
He quickly got inside his black Porsche and started his car. He looked behind him as he reversed his car and ran over the remaining Mitochondrial Creatures that were going after him. He said out loud before driving off, “My bad, didn’t see you guys back there!”
Leon drove eastbound, towards 5th Avenue. He didn’t see as many creatures as he drove further away from Central Park South, and the 17th Precinct was only a roughly 10 minute drive from the Plaza, save for the New Year’s traffic. He shook his head and thought to himself that he would have left sooner if the party didn’t take too long to end. “Should have given them an Irish Goodbye instead. Hindsight’s a bitch.”
NYPD 17th Precinct, Midtown East. 12:45 am
He finally made it inside the 17th Precinct. It was after 12:45 am at this point, long after the ball drop happened. Despite the fact that it was New Year’s Eve, or technically New Year’s Day, he was surprised to see the precinct so busy during the holiday season. He tread through the Manhattan snow, which was mostly black slush at this point with the occasional yellow splash from the neighborhood dogs.
The fluorescent lights of the 17th Precinct hummed a steady, jagged rhythm into the midnight air. The precinct was a flurry of frantic whispers and rustling papers, still reeling from the chaos of the day. Stepping through the heavy glass doors, a weary Leon S. Kennedy shrugged off his black leather jacket adorned with a faux fur trimmed collar and buckles on each cuff, the damp New York chill still clinging to his shoulders.
At fifty years old, the years of bio-organic nightmares had etched sharp lines around his eyes, but his icy blue eyed gaze remained as razor-sharp as ever. He navigated the precinct with the quiet confidence of an operative who knew every hidden threat. Approaching the central command desk, he caught the eye of the middle aged blonde woman. Captain Aya Brea.
Leon introduced himself, his voice a gravelly baritone. "Leon Kennedy, DSO."
Aya looked up from a stack of casualty reports, her expression hardening with the heavy knowledge she’d been carrying. She motioned him toward a quieter corner of the station, away from the officers haphazardly fielding frantic calls from the public.
“Agent Kennedy. I’m Captain Aya Brea." Aya replied, crossing her arms. "Let me guess, Washington suspected a bioterrorist attack."
"Exactly," Leon said, leaning against a sturdy mahogany partition. "We saw the televised press conference this morning. So they booked me a week-long vacation to New York and sent me to investigate this case. All inclusive"
Aya shook her head, her cyan blue eyes flashing with a dangerous mix of sorrow and resolve. "Unfortunately, it’s not bioterrorism. At least, not in the conventional sense. This may sound crazy even for you—”
Leon interrupted, “I’m used to ‘crazy’ by now, Captain.”
Aya continued, “These mass murders have been caused by a sentient and highly evolved mitochondria named Eve. Eve has taken over a rock singer named Layla Aizawa.”
Leon let out a gruff sigh “Evil and sentient mitochondria trying to wipe out humanity, huh?” He shrugs. “Not the strangest thing I’ve ever heard in the last 29 years.”
Suddenly, Xiomara bursts into the precinct looking for Nastya on the off chance that she would have returned to the precinct.
“Has anyone seen Officer Baldanova!?”
The rest of the officers in the bullpen shook their heads since nobody had seen Nastya.
Xiomara approached Aya, “Captain Brea, have you seen Officer Baldanova?
Aya stood up immediately, the urgency shifting the focus of the room. "Sorry, I haven’t. Have you checked the perimeter or the last known dispatch, Officer Valdez?"
"I dropped her off at Bryant Park so that Baldanova could get close to Eve in Times Square since, you know, can’t get close to Eve without risking spontaneous combustion," Xiomara replied, anxiety coloring her voice. "Our squad hasn't heard from her in over a half an hour.”
“Spontaneous combustion? Eve? What the hell is going on in this city?” thought Leon. He vaguely remembered these words from the briefing when he watched the press conference. But it was difficult to piece them together, so he had very little idea what they were talking about.
"It's highly unusual for Baldanova to just drop comms, especially with Eve active in the area." Aya turned to Leon, "Sorry, one of our officers went missing and we gotta go look for her."
Leon introduced himself to Xiomara, "Name's Leon Kennedy, DSO."
Xiomara took the time to briefly shake his hand. “Officer Xiomara Valdez, NYPD. With all due respect, Agent Kennedy, I don't have time for formalities at the moment. I’m searching for my partner, Officer Anastasia Baldanova.”
“Anastasia Baldanova…" That name sounded vaguely familiar to Leon. "She’s that other officer who was at the press conference, isn’t she?”
Aya nodded, “Yes.”
Xiomara continued, “As I was looking for her, I saw something weird. She didn’t only burn the people this time- she transformed some people into these mutated monster-like creatures! By the time that was done, Eve and Baldanova disappeared. She had told me and backup to fall back if things got messy”
Aya was in shock, “Eve is mutating humans now!?”
Leon was still perplexed, “Are you sure there isn’t some sketchy pharmaceutical organization behind all this… mitochondria mumbo jumbo?”
Aya shook her head, “No, not that I’m aware of.”
Xiomara headed towards the exit, “ Sorry guys, but I have to go back out and find Baldanova.”
Leon chimed in, “I’ll go with you.”
“Are you sure? You just got here,” asked Xiomara.
“Our priority right now is making sure that your partner is safe.” Leon put his hand on Xiomara’s shoulder as a comforting gesture.
Another officer reminded Xiomara that she could track Nastya’s department issued smartphone location. Xiomara opened the official NYPD mobile app that tracked the phone locations of other officers.
Xiomara checked the app and followed the blinking cursor. “She’s near Central Park South! Hang on, Nastya, we’re on our way! I just hope we're not too late…”
Leon reassured Xiomara once more, “Don't worry, it's only a 10 minute drive from the precinct.” He held her close to calm her down. “We’ll find her, yeah?”
Xiomara became less anxious as a result of his comfort. “...Yeah.” She then thought to herself, “DAMN, he’s fine.”
Central Park South, 1:00 am
Leon and Xiomara drove to Central Park South in his Porsche and encountered Eve's mutated animals from the park on the way. Xiomara then used her phone to track Nastya’s location in case the cursor moves. They found Nastya unconscious in the crashed pedicab on the side of the park entrance, as well as Eve looming over her. They get out of the car and the first thing Leon did was pull out his signature Requiem, which was an extremely powerful Magnum Revolver with a wing motif on the grip. He aimed it at Eve.
Eve turned around and spotted both Leon and Xiomara. “More friends to play with, I see.”
Xiomara warned Leon to not get too close to Eve or else she'd activate his mitochondria and set him on fire. One of Leon's gloved hands set on fire for a tiny bit before he stepped back and put the tiny flame out himself. He couldn’t believe that one of his hands almost entirely caught fire out of the blue like that. But he didn’t know that because of the Elpis antiviral he received from the year before that cured his T-virus symptoms, it had somehow protected him from Eve trying to induce the excess ATP production in his cells with her own will to set Leon on fire.
Eve was perplexed and confused, "You haven't gone up in flames! How is that even possible!?
"I'm just fireproof, baby." Leon didn't waste any time at all and just shot Eve a few times with his Requiem without recoil and incredible accuracy since at this point, he was cured by Elpis. "But you're not!"
Eve self-healed and cursed Leon under her breath. She did not want to waste a single moment longer on Leon when she preferred that her fight be with Nastya instead. Eve huffed and flew off somewhere before either Leon or Xiomara could catch her.
Leon shrugged, “Guess my dashing good looks saved our skins tonight." He holstered his Requiem revolver. "One of the few advantages of having a female antagonist.”
Xiomara rolled her eyes at Leon before shifting her focus back on finding her friend and partner, “Nastya!!!”
Leon and Xiomara walked up to the pedicab to see that Nastya was still unconscious, her body sprawled on the seat with one of her arms hanging out of the cab.
Xiomara ran to Nastya and tried to nudge her awake. “Wake up!” Her nudging soon escalated to slight shaking as she became a bit more anxious. “Oh no no no, please tell me you’re still alive!”
Leon checked Nastya’s pulse. “She’s got a pulse and she's still breathing.”
Xiomara breathed a sigh of relief, “Oh, thank God.” She gave Nastya a light shove, “But she won’t wake up…”
Leon observed Nastya’s injuries if she had any. “Looks like she hit her head pretty hard in whatever this thing is.” Leon tried to figure out the structure of a pedicab since it was his first time seeing one.
“Damn, and with the traffic and chaos at Times Square on New Year’s Eve, the paramedics’ response time would be delayed big time.”
Leon looks over at Nastya with concern. “We can take her back to my hotel suite and she can rest in my bed. I can take the couch for tonight.”
“Alright, but I’m not leaving her side until she wakes up.”
Leon effortlessly and carefully lifted an unconscious Nastya in his arms, being careful not to injure her head any further. Leon and Xiomara walked to the Plaza Hotel. The massive historical French Renaissance château-style hotel was barely a walk away from Central Park South.
Meanwhile, Nastya’s cells had been working overtime to heal her injuries while she remained unconscious.
Nastya started to dream about Eve. She was in a blank space where everything was dark and barely visible. She felt lost and aimless until she heard a voice echoing in the darkness that was surrounding her.
“The worst foe lies within ourselves”.
Nastya shivered in fear and yelled into the void, “What the hell do you mean by that!?”
Eve was moving behind Nastya, hidden in the darkness. “Remember that the more you use your power, the more you’ll become like me.”
“While having powers is cool as hell, I don’t want to become like you!”
Nastya’s eyes suddenly shot open. The very first thing she saw was a tall guy with light brown and dirty blond hair sprinkled with a few strands of silver and striking ice blue eyes. He was wearing a black turtleneck sweater that somehow was tight enough to accentuate his large biceps and a pair of dark gray cargo pants. His leather jacket with the faux fur trimmed collar and buckles on its cuffs was sitting on one of the chairs in the room. The room itself looked grand and marvelous, like something straight out of the 1920s with the art deco brass details.
She immediately noticed how attractive Leon was the moment he looked over her to see how she was feeling. He can’t be real- she had seen no man on Earth who was that gorgeous in real life who was also equipped with a kind and comforting demeanor. Leon S. Kennedy was what she had imagined men who were fallen angels would look like- rugged and masculine who wear mostly black, especially leather jackets. The only thing he was missing were a pair of black wings. Maybe he had hidden them somewhere.
Nastya concluded that she did die from the pedicab crash at Central Park South because only angels could look that good and still have a comforting presence. She was a bit sad, but also thought that if men looked like him in Heaven, then maybe it wasn't so bad after all.
She tried to sit up from the bed, but Leon urged her to not sit up too quickly in case her head might still be injured.
Nastya finally broke the ice, “I never thought I'd die during my line of duty this soon, but I didn’t think I'd ever make it to Heaven either!”
Leon chuckled due to how direct and frank this raven haired rookie cop was. “And why would you think that?”
Nastya couldn't believe he'd even ask. “I mean, look at yourself! You are the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. Hell, I might even be okay with the fact that you’re kinda old because GODDAMN you’re so beautiful.”
Leon smirked at this girl's brazen and unfiltered words. “No, I mean, why would you think you wouldn’t end up in Heaven? Have you been a naughty girl?” He leaned a little closer and said in a teasing tone. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Santa.” He winked at her.
Nastya blushed so red. “Damn right, I have! I’ve watched hardcore porn while working in a church, I’ve insulted an old lady in a wheelchair for pissing me off, stole candy from a kid, etc.”
Leon was amused by her assumption that all these examples would be the valid reasons that she’d be barred from Heaven’s door when he had likely done things so much worse than she’d ever done. In fact, he found her earnest nature kind of cute.
“Maybe being dead isn't so bad after all if I get to see you here in the afterlife.” Nastya sighed, so happy for once.
A familiar voice exclaimed, “Nastya, you're finally awake!”
Nastya finally noticed Xiomara walking into the bedroom. Only then, she slowly realized that she wasn't actually dead and that she basically told a stranger who saved her, to his face, that he was inhumanly and supernaturally hot and sexy for an old man.
Leon chuckled at Nastya's earnest reaction to his looks. He leaned even closer until their foreheads touched. “Sorry to burst your bubble, sweetheart, but you're still among the living in flesh and blood.”
Nastya grabbed the nearest pillow and buried her already bright red face and groaned in it in a futile attempt to hide her embarrassment.
Xiomara expressed her relief that Nastya was very much alive and well. She leaned over to give her a hug, “Thank God, you're okay.”
“Thanks, I'm glad I'm okay too,” said Nastya, voice still slightly muffled from her face being buried into the pillow. She was still embarrassed that she said what she said out loud to Leon. But she had to brush it off quickly.
Nastya lifted her head from the pillow. “So now that I know that I’m not actually dead, who are you?”
Leon reached out to shake Nastya’s hand. “Leon Kennedy, DSO.”
Nastya flashed her badge out of habit. “Anastasia Baldanova, NYPD. If you’re from DSO, why are you here? I wasn’t aware that the government had any jurisdiction on this particular case.”
“Your press conference caught Washington DC’s attention and they suspect that the Webster Hall incident could be caused by bioterrorism. The White House has classified this incident as a Level-1 national security threat. So I was sent here to investigate it.”
Nastya was not pleased upon hearing that the televised press conference caught Washington DC’s attention. “Well I thank Washington for their questionable concern, but I think we got this under–”
Xiomara interrupted, “Nastya, this is the second mass murder incident two nights in a row. We're going to need all the help we can get to stop Eve from killing the entire city.”
Leon looked perturbed, “Two nights in a row? What happened?”
Nastya sighed, “Alright, hold onto your seatbelts, boys and girls. This is gonna be a doozy to explain.”
“I’ve got time.”
“Last night, I was on a terrible date at the Hornet’s Nest concert when the lead singer made everyone else spontaneously combust into flames- somehow everyone else except for me.”
Nastya gestured her arms to describe the size of Eve. “Layla Aizawa transformed into this…this…weird distorted creature thing and called herself ‘Eve’. She said something about our cells communicating with each other.”
Xiomara struggled to understand, “What does she mean by that?”
Nastya exclaimed, “Fuck if I know! She also said the time for all mitochondria to dominate all living things has finally arrived. And that she and I now are rivals in an evolutionary battle to be the strongest lifeform since I told her I wasn’t joining her crazy ass plan to kill all of humanity and replace it with herself as the apex lifeform.”
Leon was trying to keep up with these explanations. “Let’s rewind for a bit. You’re telling me that this woman has cells…”
Nastya could not help but to be pedantic about the details of cells, “Technically, it’s one of the organelles inside the cells…”
Leon chose not to feed into Nastya’s pedantry, “Cells that have a mind of their own that possessed and mutated her into ‘Eve’, who can kill people by making other people’s cells blow up.”
“ …yeah, I guess if that’s how you understand it. Sure.” Nastya could not be assed about the details anymore.
Xiomara asked, “But Nastya, what happened with Eve at Times Square? I couldn’t get close enough to the ball drop.”
“Dude, Eve controlled the minds of the hosts, blew them up, and then she also mutated whoever she spared into these super deformed creatures! It was fucking crazy!”
Xiomara snapped her fingers, “So that was what those things were! We ran into some of them on the way to Central Park South while Agent Kennedy and I were looking for you. We ran into this huge lady with long arms and claws.”
“Shit, that was Eve!” Nastya exclaimed. “Oh God, I’m glad she didn’t roast you two like marshmallows!”
Leon thought to himself that these creatures might be a new type of B.O.W. created by Umbrella or some other evil organization. But he kept it to himself for now so as to not overwhelm Nastya with new information.
“I haven’t ever pointed a gun at someone and killed anyone before tonight.” Nastya looked down solemnly, “Even if it was in self-defense against a mutated person, I felt horrible doing it.” She started to spiral a bit as she recalled shooting a mutated civilian for the first time, “ I don’t know what to think anymore…so much has happened.”
Nastya’s words hit Leon pretty hard because they remind him of that night in Racoon City on what was supposed to be his first night on the job as a rookie cop, which also ended up being his last night on the job as an RPD officer. He understood and empathized just how scared and confused Nastya must have been in the last day or so.
“Look, why don’t you rest here in my suite tonight? You can take the bed and I’ll sleep on the couch in the study.”
Nastya slowly nodded. There was no way she’d want to sleep alone after what happened tonight. And this large DSO agent felt safe somehow, despite being a government agent. Nastya looked at him again, his muscles were even visible through his black turtleneck sweater. God, I'm still not convinced that this man is real.
Xiomara nodded, “ Yeah, Nastya. Just rest. Agent Kennedy will look after you in case something else happens. I’ll see you tomorrow at the precinct.”
“Be careful out there, Xiomara. Please.”
Xiomara left Leon in charge of watching over Nastya and drove home in the police cruiser. Leon encouraged Nastya to stay in the bedroom for the rest of the night.
He whispered to himself as he watched Nastya drift to sleep, “I wouldn’t doubt that you would belong in Heaven.” He tucked her in. “ Good night, angel.”
Nastya thought Leon was the angel, but to him, she was the one who brought a fifty-year-old man’s soul back to life in the middle of a New York crisis.