Leon's POV

After helping Laura inside the jet, she halted momentarily. Glancing all around her and taking in the extravagant surroundings within the jet. Marveling at the amenity that the private jet possessed.

To our far right was the lounge area, with the cockpit located further back of the aircraft. Circular windows were built in on each side of the room. Rays of sunshine shined through the glass pane, illuminating the room along with the ceiling lights. Pristine white couches were lined up against the walls. Topped with red decorative couch pillows. Along with matching armchairs surrounded a red, ornate coffee table. Right next to one of the armchairs, there's a red mini fridge.

Without a doubt packed with a variety of refreshments and snacks for us in case we were to get hungry or thirsty or hungry during the trip back home. The luxurious furniture was all positioned on top of a cream-colored carpet, smooth and plush to the touch. Not only that, there was a massive flat screen TV fixed into one of the walls. Facing in front of the lounge.

On the left of us, there was a spare bedroom. The door was left open, far enough for us to look inside. Inside the bedroom there's a queen-sized bed, positioned at the far end of the room. The foam bed is overlapped neatly with an array of blood red pillows and blankets, with dark oak end tables arranged on both sides of the bed. Complementing the scarlet color scheme. The bedroom also had windows as well, bright, luminous rays of light shined into the room. Making the room brighten up, even with the lights off.

"I call dibs on the bedroom," Laura abruptly spoke up. Removing her arm from around my shoulder and trying to tread towards the room without any help from me.

Halfway there, Laura halted in place, moaning in pain. She leaned one arm against the coffee table, clutching the other around her stomach. Taking deep breaths.

Knowing where this was going, I walked over to Laura. Delicately sweeping her off her feet and holding her in my arms, with one wrapped around her knees, and the other supporting her back.

"Is this really necessary, Leon?" Laura inquired, turning her around to face me as I carefully carried her little stubborn ass inside the bedroom.

"When it comes to resting and taking it easy, you have a hard time doing so. Don't you?"

Laura crossed her arms over her chest. "It's not my fault I'm used to doing everything myself. I can't help but be tense about this, even after everything that's happened," She justified. I shook my head, lightly chuckling at her actions. I couldn't blame her though, anyone in her situation would be restless and uneasy, especially Chris or Claire. 'I swear, she's like a mini version of Claire. Women.' I thought to myself.

I heedfully set Laura down on top of the queen-sized bed, as the teenage girl winced in pain the entire time, noting her evident discomfort.

"Do you still have your prescription with you?" I questioned Laura, as she sat upright in the bed, kicking her shoes of her feet and setting her hospital bag down. My stepdaughter tilted her back against the pillows, attempting to get comfortable on the bed.

"Yeah, I have them in here," Laura replied, just as she opened up the hospital bag sitting right beside her on the bed, taking out the bottle of painkillers.

"You should take a couple before the jet takes off. So you wouldn't have to deal with the pain and chillax during the ride home."

"Good idea, I forgot to do that on the way to the airport."

"Here, let me get you a drink to take those with." I turned around, heading over towards the lounge. I kneeled down on the carpet covered floor, opening the door to the mini fridge. Viewing my options for refreshments.

"Do you want Cherry Pepsi, Mountain Dew, or Vanilla Coca Cola?" I asked her, already knowing which soda she would want.

"Cherry Pepsi please," Laura yelled from the bedroom, using a courteous tone of voice. 'She likes Cherry Pepsi too, just like her Mom.' I noted to myself.

Once I grabbed a can of Cherry Pepsi out of the mini fridge, I went back inside the guest bedroom, holding the can of cold soda in my hand.

"Here you go." I held the soda out to her.

"Thanks." Laura sat upright in the bed, taking it the drink from me. She placed the pills in her mouth, before opening her soda and taking a sip out of it. Swallowing both the pills and a mouthful of the refreshment at the same time.

After taking some of her pain medication, Laura leaned her back against the pillows. Shivering perpetually as she laid her bruised body down entirely on top of the bed, tossing and turning to get comfortable. I grabbed one of the spare blanket folded at the end of the bed, draping the blanket up to her shoulders.

"Leon, you don't have to do that," Laura spoke up, leisurely sitting upright in the bed while using one arm to support herself.

"I know Laura," I acknowledged her, temporarily kneeling down beside the bed. Matching her height. "You need to rest. You've been through enough already as it is; I'm just trying to do whatever I can to help you get better."

Laura glanced up at me, her eyes flickering with dejection. "I know Leon. I'm not trying to be rude or anything. I appreciate everything that you're doing for me; I really do. I..." Laura suddenly turned her head away me for a brief moment, fighting back the tears that were brimming in her eyes. "I just need some space. Just to cope, you know? Is that really too much to ask for?"

Understanding what she's alluding to, I take a step back, treading over towards the doorway. "No, not all at Laura. If you need some space then I'll give you you're space. I completely understand." By the time I reach the doorway, I placed my hand on top of the door handle, gripping it with my callused fingers. "If you need anything, don't be afraid to give me a holler. Alright?"

Laura nodded her head at me; laying back down on the queen-sized. My stepdaughter pulled the blanket up to her chest, resting her head on top of one of the pillows. She curled her body up on top of the mattress, nestling down until she was comfortable. I reluctantly leave the guest bedroom, quietly closing the door behind me.

"How is she holding up?" Hunnigan inquired, redirecting her gaze over at me as she was sitting down at one of the couches, working on her laptop that's sitting on her lap.

I sat down on the other couch, across from Hunnigan. "Not too good I'm afraid." I rested my arm on the back on the couch, letting out a perturbed sigh.

"I see." The corners of Hunnigan's mouth quirked down, partially frowning for a moment. "Hopefully with time, she'll eventually learn to get over her despondent mood swing. Allowing things to finally get back to normal for her."

"But the normal life Laura once knew, it's all gone, it'll completely be a new kind of normal for her," I justified, resting my right foot on top of my knee. "You realize that, don't you?"

Hunnigan nodded her head at me in acknowledgement, before shifting her gaze back down at her laptop. Typing away on the keyboard in front of her. While she was busy, reviewing my mission report, I recalled the very first time I met Laura. When I saved her from the clutches of Neo-Umbrella when she was a little girl.

***Flashback***

June 10, 2011
| 12:04 pm |

***3rd POV***

It's been fifty two hours since eleven-year-old Laura Rose has been confirmed missing by the officials at the Seattle Police Department. Ever since then, a colossal search and research operation has been underway. Not only by the city police, but also led by her adoptive parents and other city residents as well. Looking from top to bottom all over Seattle, including neighboring towns, for the missing girl.

Whilst the local authorities and civilians were working strenuously to locate little Laura, thirty-two-year-old Leon S. Kennedy hid himself behind a massive oak tree. The government operative was wearing a blue v-neck t-shirt, overlapped by his black leather jacket, a black leather shoulder holster hidden by the jacket, royal blue colored skinny jeans, black combat boots, and a pair of black, fingerless, combat gloves.

His callused fingers gripped his signature wing shooter in hand, his index finger hovering just millimeters over the trigger. The oak tree was positioned only a couple feet away from the towering metal fencing; surrounding Terminal 18. One of the various cargo ports located on Harbor Island, within Seattle, Washington. It was nearly pitch black outside, partially illuminated by the numerous street lights within the area. Leon lifted his free hand, pressing two fingers against his ear piece.

"Hunnigan, I just arrived at the designated coordinates," Leon reported in, using a hushed tone of voice. To avoid alerting any possible enemies sentineling the area of his presence.

"Copy that," Hunnigan responded, watching Leon every step of the way via the U.S. government's private satellite system from her computer screen. The dirty-blonde swiftly peered over from behind the oak tree, not spotting a single person standing outside the cargo area. Appearing rather isolated than well-guarded as he expected to be.

"Are you sure this is the right place, Hunnigan?" Leon inquired, as he briskly climbed over the fencing and jumped off it. The dirty-blonde landed on his feet; crouching partially down on the cement ground before hiding behind one of the massive, red cargo containers. Tilting his back against the metal container.

"I'm a 100% sure Leon. Our satellites picked up images of the subject being conveyed here and taken inside the private docking port up ahead by a group of unidentified hostiles just hours ago. Whatever happens, take any measures necessary to save the subject."

"Got it," Leon acknowledged her. "From what I can see, the building doesn't appear to be well-guarded on the outside."

"But without a doubt it will be competently patrolled inside the premises. Exercise extreme caution Leon," Hunnigan advised the dirty-blonde agent.

"I got it. I'll contact you as soon as I've found and retrieved the subject."

"Alright then. Hunnigan out."

Soon after the call ended, Leon pulled out his PDA out of his pocket. Unlocking the cellular device and and pulling up Laura's file. Once the blonde opened up the digital file, he clicked on one of pictures of Laura. Expanding the size of it until it took up his entire screen.

Leon swiped his thumb along the screen, looking through each picture individually. The young girl's vibrant blue eyes and feminine features reminding the agent of his red-headed fiancé waiting for him back at home.

What was the real reason Leon is here? Well, Laura wasn't kidnapped by just some ordinary hooligan or sex offender. According to a tip he received from an reliable source, the perpetrator(s) responsible for kidnapping the little girl are believed to apart of a terrorist organization known as Neo-Umbrella. The coincidental appellation left a bitter taste on the tip of the agent's tongue, provoking the man to reminisce for a brief moment.

As claimed by the briefing report, at approximately 8:32 pm on the night of June 8, upon returning home to their laneway house from their date, Mr. and Mrs. Rose (Laura's adoptive parents) called the police upon seeing the brutality maimed corpse of Amanda Whitman (Laura's babysitter) in their blood spattered living room. Her mutilated carcass was strung upside down across the living room couch, blemishing the once pristine piece of furniture. All while the couple's daughter, Laura, was nowhere in sight.

The most noticeable features about the babysitter's corpse was that her abdominal region was practically caked with bullet holes, stab wounds, and bruises—indicating that more than one person was present at the crime. Further evidence suggests that were signs of forced entry into the Rose Residence, along with signs of struggle not only between the babysitter and the culprits, including between Laura and her kidnappers as well. Specks of her blood was found splattered all over the living room carpeting, staining the once perfect ivory colored flooring.

Nonetheless, the most prominent piece of evidence implying that the perpetrators were bioterrorists was Ms. Whitman coming back to life without warning two hours later in the police department's morgue after her body had been transported there via body bag. Only this time—she was reanimated as a B.O.W.—resulting in a number of casualties at the Seattle Police Department. The incident was thoroughly contained and handled by Agent Tyler Howard and his fellow USSTRATCOM agents sent in to assist with the investigation, covering up the sanguinary occurrence in order to disclose any information regarding the bloodbath to the public. For both the sake and sanity of the townspeople.

The reason being for abducting some ordinary little girl remained unknown at this time. However, several theories and conjectures have been proposed by fellow government agents and higher ups during the mission briefing at their headquarters in DC, pertaining to the terrorist group's ulterior motive for kidnapping a young girl such as Laura herself. Most of them were conclusive yet poorly validated; the rest of them were just downright implausible. But, you never know.

Leon turned off his PDA—sliding the device into his jean pocket as he readied his wing shooter in hand. Pulling back the hammer with his thumb and cocking the weapon before standing back up, swiftly standing up and prowling towards the main office building. Where Laura is supposedly being kept hostage.

The dirty-blonde silently opened the glass door, keeping his gun trained in front of him. Upon entering the dim receptionist area within the complex, Leon spotted the silhouette of two hostiles, located far down the left hallway. Conversing with one another using their foreign European language; one wielding a MP-AB50 submachine pistol, while the other held a rusty machete in hand. The government agent swiftly and silently positioned himself against the receptionist's desk—crouching down right next to the oak furnishing while concealing his presence from the enemy.

'Judging from their ragged, tattered clothing, and the varied weaponry they possessed, these guys must be mercenaries. Possibly imported from Europe or some other poverty-stricken country.' Leon mentally deduced, peering over from the desk and gazing down the hallway. Failing to notice that they aren't just your regular mercenaries, since they had their backs facing the D.S.O. operative. Hiding their distorted and ill-proportioned faces; retaining a myriad of arthropod-like eyes and rotting teeth. In actuality, they are J'avo; mercenaries infected with a mixture of the G and T-Veronica Viruses, better known as the C-Virus. Currently unbeknownst to the dirty-blonde agent and his organization.

'If these guys are here, they're ought to be more than two of them all throughout the edifice. Looks like this mission will require me to be more covert and stealthy than usual.' The dirty-blonde mentally noted, holstering his handgun and taking out his combat knife from his sheath. Clasping the handle of the ten inch blade in his gloved hand as he flared his nostrils.

Catching the putrescence scent of rotting flesh coming from within the vicinity, Leon pinched his nostrils with his other hand, trying to rid his nose of the putrid stench in the air. 'God, what is that smell? Did they kill a cow and leave the carcass out just for it to rot? Jesus.' The dirty-blonde thought to himself, trying to block out the foul smell and stay on task at the same time.

As Leon warily watched the two J'avo from afar, one of the mercenaries turned down another hallway. Leaving the other one partnerless and all alone. 'Now's my chance.' Once he made sure that the coast was clear for him, Leon briskly came out of his hiding spot and advanced towards the J'avo. After quickly disarming him of his submarine gun, Leon wrapped his left arm around the man's neck from behind him, covering his mouth to avoid him causing any commotion that would attract other nearby mercenaries, before jabbing his knife into the J'avo's skull. Killing it straight away.

Leon dispatched the infected mercenary rather rapidly than efficiently, just as he caught another whiff of the familiar, foul stench. Except only stronger and more fetid than before. This time coming from the corpse of the now dead soldier of fortune. Leon immediately dropped the putrescent carcass onto the floor—gagging to the point where he can feel bile starting to come up in the back of his throat. 'Ugh, what in god's name...? Why the hell do they smell so bad...? They reek of decomposition as if they're infected, but they don't look like a virus carrier to me.' The agent thought to himself, noting the abnormality of the dead J'avo's stench.

The government operative clutched his mouth, holding back the urge to vomit all over himself while the decaying corpse laid face flat on the wooden floor, with coagulated blood pouring out of the stab wound in it's skull. Seeping into the polished flooring beneath it. Before the dirty-blonde had the opportunity to puke his guts out, Leon quietly opened a nearby door, leading into a supply closet and grabbed ahold of the decomposing corpse. He dragged the damn thing by its ankles inside the closet before shutting the door, alleviating the surrounding air of the putrid stench and help the man regain his composure without having to barf.

Deciding it was time to move on, Leon hurriedly but heedfully headed further down the darkened hallway, running into more J'avo along the way. The dirty-blonde stealthily executed each and every one of the infected mercenaries one by one in a furtive manner, repeating this process with each and every J'avo he encountered.

First, stabbing every single one of them in the head with his bloody combat knife. Then, hiding the decaying, bloody body of the mercenary inside neighboring offices and other rooms that were convenient for caching corpse for the time being. Making a mental note to have all of the bodies burned once the subject has been secured and escorted to safety.

After making a number of twists and turns through the seemingly endless maze of corridors, Leon arrived at new section of the building, the indoor loading bay area. His bloody combat knife was held high and trained in front of him, whilst the agent was taking in his new surroundings. The colossal storage room was approximately the same size of a school gymnasium, taking up about partially two floors of the complex.

On the left hand side, numerous rows of mountainous metal shelving united were lined up against the back wall, filled with a countless number of goods and merchandise to be organized and handled. In the middle of the room, a variety of cargo containers were scattered all over the enormous holding area, situated in stacks of four throughout the room. Resembling much like another maze he would to go through to continue his search for Laura. On the right hand side, various metal loading dock doors were built into the wall, allowing cargo and other precious consignments to be shipped and delivered from place to place.

In spite of the apparent regularity of Leon's surroundings, something wasn't right. He could feel it. . . For starter's, the dirty-blonde noticed right away that there weren't any mercenaries in the area, which only gave off an unnaturally eerie and uncanny feeling throughout the hushed atmosphere. It was quiet. Too quiet. . .

All of sudden, the sound of child-like moaning echoed throughout the entire room, startling the government agent and snapping him out of his trance. Leon peered all around the room; his eyes flickering with attentiveness, trying to pinpoint to the origin of the resonance within the room. It wasn't until the D.S.O. agent heard it again that he was able to figure out exactly who was producing those pained moans.

'Laura. She's definitely here, but she could be hurt. I have to find her and get her out of here before they find out I'm here.' Leon placed his knife back in its sheath, switching it out for his handgun once again, just as he began making his way towards the massive maze of metal crates.

With his handgun held high, Leon tred through immense labyrinth of miscellaneous cargo containers, honing down on his sense of hearing to lead him right to the little girl. After turning left down another cargo encased corridor, Leon reached the center of the maze. He spotted young Laura sitting in a foldable chair in the middle of the spacious area.

Her head was dipping down, several locks of her curly, blonde hair partially covering her fatigued features. Her black leggings and cherry colored short-sleeve shirt were encrusted with grime and grass stains, most likely from the skirmish that had taken place in front yard of the Rose Residence. A black bandanna was fixed over her mouth, gagging the little girl while muffling her harrowing moans. The only thing that kept Laura in place was the black nylon rope that was fastened around the upper half of her body, binding the little girl tightly to the chair. Not only that, Laura wasn't looking too good either. She appeared sickly and drained, her once rosy pale skin was now more pale than usual. There was also an enormous bump forming on the side of her forehead, an indication that she had been hit rather harshly and knocked unconscious some time ago.

Leon glanced all around him, expecting this to be some sort of trap. So they could catch the government agent off guard with a group of infected mercenaries emerging from their hiding spot and jump him while he's preoccupied with helping the young girl. Still, trap or no trap, Laura needed his help. She possibility even needed immediate medical attention as well.

Leon silently yet vigilantly rushed over towards the unconscious little girl, with his wing shooter in hand. Upon hearing his deliberate footsteps, Laura steadily opened her saturated eyes. She weakly gazing at the handsome man treading towards her, all while still experiencing the effects of whatever kind of narcotic they drugged her with hours earlier.

When Leon reached her, the dirty-blonde agent kneeled down beside her and switched out his gun for his knife once again. Thinking that he was here to hurt her and draw more blood from her like that woman in the blue dress and red scarf and those mercenaries did, Laura began to whimper in fear; tears brimming in her eyes once again. Scuffling against the binds that bound the little girl to the chair.

"Sh, sh, it's okay Laura. There's no need to be cry. I'm not here to hurt you," Leon told the petrified little girl, using a calm and soothing tone of voice right. He removed the bandanna from around her mouth, helping her calm down.

"W-Who are y-you?" Laura stuttered, glancing up at the dirty-blonde agent. Tears trickling down her abnormally pale cheeks.

"My name's Leon, I'm here to rescue you," He answered, carefully cutting the nylon rope that bound Laura to the metal chair.

Laura's eyes went round, now sparkling with a glint of hope. "Really?"

"Yeah, that's right, Laura. I'm here to take you back home." Once he freed her of her braided binds, Leon put his knife back in its sheath and prudently lifted little Laura out of the chair, as she firmly held onto his forearms for support. He set Laura down back onto her own two feet; the little girl still clutching onto his muscly arms, only to lose her balance and collapse. She winced and yelped in pain; the girl's knees buckled immensely due to the severe numbness deluging her legs.

"Can you stand, Laura?"

The girl shook her head, her grip tightening involuntarily around the agent's arm. Leon glanced down at her arm, his eyes widening right away. On the inside of Laura's elbow, on her right arm, there was a piece of gaze taped onto her forearm. Stained with a hefty amount of dried blood, partially pouring down the girl's skin from the covered puncture wound. A sign that blood had been drawn from her some time ago, and from the looks of it; a substantial amount of it too. Explaining why the little girl appeared so pallid and drained, even in her current state.

As Laura glanced up at Leon, she looked off to the side. Her eyes widening straight away. "Look out!"