ph_logs | In spite of all your love, you fear what I've become

Who: Leon S. Kennedy (

nothingbadeverhappensto) and anyone who dares intervene
What: Leon's No Good Horrible Very Bad Month comes to a head, in the wake of revisiting all his worst nightmares
When: Mid-November, throughout the day
Where: Around downtown, the Oak and Iron, in an alley near the Oak and Iron
Warnings: Alcohol abuse, emeto/nausea, disordered eating, allusions to cannibalism, possibly other references to the Fear event in threads

I. That shadow on your mind [ On Patrol, Downtown ][ OTA ]

[ CW: disordered eating, nausea ]

Leon is... okay.

He rolls out of bed in the morning before the sunrise (barely slept, again), brushes his teeth, and hesitates in the kitchen for a moment (stomach turning at the mere thought of checking the icebox) before deciding to skip breakfast (again) and go for a run. He's tired, but he's pushed through worse. The exercise helps clear his head, at least, and he does a lap around the neighborhood, taking some solace in seeing the occasional light on in his neighbors' houses (there are still people there, he's not alone) before returning home to take a shower and get dressed for work.

Throughout the day, he can be found on his regular patrol route around downtown Pumpkin Hollow, having resumed his old routine as opposed to burying himself in case files all day like he had been before... all of that. It's good to get out, after all. It's good to see how people are recovering. His uniform is neatly pressed and he makes an effort to smile and nod to passers-by, stopping by anyone who looks confused or concerned or otherwise in need of assistance that a constable or neighbor can provide.

(One could be forgiven for missing the sleeplessness in his eyes, or the slight tremor to his hands from the hunger pangs. But it's fine. He's fine.)

II. It's growing all the time [ The Oak and Iron ][ OTA ]

[ CW: disordered eating, nausea, allusions to cannibalism, alcohol abuse ]

The day wears on, and per his usual habits Leon finishes his shift and heads to the Oak and Iron for a hot meal and a stiff drink.

Or a stiff drink, at least. The moment he walks in the door he's met with the smell of cooked pork (not what he thought it was, at first) and nearly turns around and walks back out, but it's fine. He's a big boy, he can handle it. It's fine. Powering through the way his mouth waters unpleasantly at the scent (sick and hungry, both at once), he takes a seat at the table furthest from the kitchen and orders a glass of whiskey.

"...Leave the bottle," he says to the barmaid after thinking it over for a moment, passing her the extra brass and a hefty tip. The first glass he knocks back quickly, and the second, but from the third onwards at least he nurses them more slowly. (Not quite savoring the taste, but trying to make it last, self-conscious about the temptation to just slam the whole bottle and see if that drowns any of it out.)

Over the course of the evening, the bottle empties steadily. Leon, notably, does not order food at any point, but he does wind up with a second bottle somewhere along the line. As it drains, too, he slumps lower and lower until his head is resting on the table, idly swirling the dregs at the bottom of his glass, watching the amber liquid slosh back and forth with an exhausted expression. (Seems even despite all that, he can't sleep.)

III. If this is killing me, you can't be the one to tell me [ An alleyway, near the Oak and Iron ][ OTA ]

[ CW: emeto, allusions to cannibalism, and NPC (temporary) death, alcohol abuse, disordered eating ]

It's somewhere around closing time when one of the barmaids, assuming Leon is unconscious from the way he's sprawled face down on the table, reaches out to shake him by the shoulder and tell him it's time to leave. He jolts upright, hand flying to grab for a missing weapon in a shoulder holster that he isn't wearing, and stares up at her, wild-eyed -

- and recognizes her. Remembers her. Watching her run from him in the woods by the Leeds Estate, warped and twisted as they were, and she was too slow to outpace him by far, so easily caught and crushed in his claws and her blood and flesh and bone marrow was so much sweeter than anything he'd previously imagined -

Leon flips the table over in his hurry to get out from behind it as he watches the recognition dawn on her face as well, pale and afraid. He tries to apologize, to say he's sorry, but he chokes on the words and bolts for the door, nearly bowling over another patron as they try to leave. Breaking into a dead sprint, he makes it down a nearby alleyway before the situation (the hunger, the disgust) catches up with him. He collapses to his knees, retching bile and whiskey onto the cobblestones as he tries to forget the taste of blood, blood, blood.

(Leon is not okay.)

IV. I just want you to know, I finally can let this go [ Wildcard ]
[ Need something else? Feel free to DM me at quodvide on Discord or PM this journal!! Note that some timesoup will apply to all threads just so no one is locked out of getting through to Leon if they tag earlier in the day.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Heh. Maybe so."

Snakes leans back more against the wall. "I kinda hope not every place is full of demons and all kinds of creative, what-the-hell ways to die, at least," he drawls. "Give me a place with just people messin' things up and I'll take it."

"On the bright side, I'm pretty sure we didn't have demons where I came from," Leon says. "Just people. Didn't stop us from creating new and horrible ways to die, though. Or... not die, I guess. Make you wish you were dead."

Occasionally he has to remind himself that for all everyone calls a spade a spade and refers to T-Virus victims as zombies, they're not actually dead. Just... stuck rotting alive, puppeted around by instinct and hunger. Arguably an even worse fate, in some ways.

Snakes pauses mid-drink and looks over. "Yeah? Then your world sounds as bad as this one, Pal. By this point, going back home to my time and facing Posey and Pinto again don't sound so bad, and that was what I dreaded more than anything else when I came here."

"It's not as bad as last month," Leon protests half-heartedly. "But the rest of the time it's worse than here, yeah. Maybe not for everybody, but for enough people."

Enough of Leon's job is getting thrown at war zones and other situations where humanity is definitely not on its best behavior to look for evidence of Bio-Organic Weapons that he's become keenly aware of certain injustices in the world. He's not proud of the way it's jaded him, but hey. At least he still has it in him to get mad about it.

Anyway.

"...Who're Posey and Pinto? If you don't mind me asking."

A dark laugh. "Yeah, it's pretty hard to imagine any place being worse than last month here."

He shrugs. "My ex-boss and her cohort. He's real into torture. She's right ready to dish it out too, if she feels like it. Keeps poison with her at all times. Fast-acting too."

"Jesus. Don't they sound like one hell of a comedy duo," says Leon, flatly, though his expression is one of sympathy. None of his superiors are quite dumb enough to let on to being into torture and poison as anything but occasionally necessary evils or whatever, but at the end of the day it doesn't stop them from using the tools at hand. Still, he gets how that veneer is probably a little more pleasant than the overt sadism Snakes is describing.

"You have my condolences. At least the good thing about so many places being kind of awful is it's not a competition. I can have my zombies and you can have your terrible ex-boss and we can both be miserable together."

A slight smirk of definite sympathy. "Yeah, I guess you can put it that way. At least it's nice that there's people who get it."

He takes another drink. "I don't talk too much about them, or about the stuff going on here. Usually figure no one'll be interested, or that they'll get mad I'm not just sucking it up or whatever. Seems like that's the policy around here: suck it up, conceal, don't feel, that kinda thing. I think last month kinda broke a lot of 'em, though."

Snakes may or may not be observing things correctly, as he's mostly basing it on a negative encounter or two and also the attitude he's noted when he reads the paper. And he's still drinking.

"I don't know about that," says Leon - more thoughtful than dismissive as he considers his own experiences. "I think I've done more talking about my feelings here than I have in years, whether I want to or not. But maybe being forced by demons to do a musical number about one of the worst days of my life shouldn't count."

He leans back against the wall behind him, frowning deeply.

"Seriously though. I don't know if all the touchy-feely stuff is better or worse than feeling like you've gotta tough it all out all the time, but... I don't know. It's a lot. I'd like a vacation."

"Yeah? I get that when it comes to bein' forced to, but volunteering it and that being an okay thing to do ..." A shrug. "I guess some of the people here encourage that more than others, though.... Sephiroth's been pretty nice."

A scoff at the remembrance of the opera. "That was messed up, both on and offstage." He had worked backstage and it had brought back horrors of working for terrible bosses.

"Heh. This year's been a real drag. I'd say maybe next year will be even worse, but I dunno if it can get much worse."

"Sure was," Leon agrees, grimacing. "At least with Efrain out of the way there's probably not going to be a comeback tour any time soon. 'Course, you're also right about how it could get worse."

With a grunt of exertion, Leon hauls himself back to his feet, swaying slightly but remaining upright.

"Especially with all the demon and cult stuff coming to a head. Feels like they're all starting to make their moves more aggressively lately, and we're getting caught in the crossfire."

"Yeah.... I'm sure they'll find a way to make it worse somehow."

He watches Leon getting up, ready to try to help if needed. He's somehow still fairly steady, despite all the drinking.

"Wonder if anybody will make it out of the crossfire in the end. Maybe before it's all over, everybody'll be as messed-up as me. Scary thought."

"Mm," Leon grunts, waving his hand in an 'I'm good' gesture when he notices Snakes getting ready to help him up. He's clearly a little unsteady on his feet, but at least he's not actively falling over. "It'll be worth it. Getting the people here out of this endless cycle, I mean. It has to be."

He is, in his way, insisting this as much to reassure himself as to tell Snakes.

"I mean, what's a little sanity compared to saving a whole town, right? I've made worse trades," he says, deadpan and exhausted.

"I dunno. If everybody's sanity is shot, how are they gonna enjoy whatever second chance they might get? And that's a big 'might' at this point. Maybe there's really no end to this."

He gives Leon a weird look as he leans back against the wall. "Your world really must be a piece of work."

"It'd give them the chance to at least try to bounce back instead of going through this again and again every couple months. That's not nothing."

He sighs, taking deep breaths and trying to sober up a little. "And it sure is. Remember that cult leader that turned into a giant bug I told you about earlier? Dealing with that kind of thing is my job. They have an entire guy just for handling weird monster bullshit, and that's me."

Somehow he wound up highly qualified for the task in the eyes of the US Government, and he's still not sure how that happened. As far as he's concerned he's mostly good at shooting things and, for the most part, getting very lucky when it comes to near-death experiences. You'd think there'd be others with more to offer than that.

"But, you know. If I didn't do it someone else would have to. And I wouldn't put that on anyone. So I'm going back, one way or another."

“Yeah … I guess maybe they’d stand a chance then,” Snakes says. “Maybe.” He’s not sure he can ever bounce back at this point. He might always expect the other shoe to drop and be a paranoid mess. But he hopes other people aren’t as weak as he thinks he is.

He listens in disbelief. “You gotta take care of all the weird stuff by yourself?! And you’re okay with bein’ that kinda sacrificial lamb?”

He’s not sure he could ever be that good.

In spite of all your love, you fear what I've become | OTA

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cw: discussion of zombies

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