Leon Kennedy

Working as a waiter wasn’t at all what you dreamed of, but it was the only more or less suitable job you found for the summer. Naturally, it wasn’t the profession you’d spent four years in college for, but it was at least some kind of income.

After graduating from college, most of your friends and classmates immediately applied to universities, but not you. And there were reasons for that. Although your parents tried to convince you that you needed to apply right away, you looked at the situation realistically — neither you nor your parents had the money for admission, and there was no point in trying to get a spot on a budget‑funded program. And, frankly, you finally wanted a break from studying, from lectures, textbooks, and sleepless nights in front of a laptop screen; after all, you wanted to finally become financially independent from your parents.

So, no matter what, you made your choice. Even though this meant working for very little money in an ordinary café with the unassuming name “Coast to Coast.” The only thing that set this café apart from any other in the city was its proximity to the Raccoon City police station, which is why virtually nothing illegal ever happened there, and because of this, the place became a favorite among the local officers. You could see them here every day, at any time of day or night.

Most of these officers were quite nice to the staff and to you, especially the younger ones. Probably because they saw that you were roughly their age, and it was always easy for them to find common ground with you. One such officer was Leon Kennedy, who had recently joined the service — his shift just coincided with yours. At first, he was rather reserved and quiet, but your natural charisma and ability to strike up a conversation with literally anyone within a few days made you good acquaintances. Not exactly friends, but not strangers either — just two people who don’t mind chatting during their break. That was enough.

Tonight, the task of closing the café fell on your shoulders. Your colleague begged you to let him leave early so he could make it to someone’s birthday — you didn’t go into details. The day had been tough, and you were practically exhausted, your mind not working well, but you conscientiously did your job. To at least get a little more energized, you turned on your favorite music at full volume (since there was no one else in the café except you), and, singing along a bit out of tune, you started wiping down the tables and even dancing a little. The work went much easier that way.

But, as it turned out, the sign on the café door was still flashing the word “OPEN” even though it was already 10 p.m.

The loud music drowned out any sounds — the ringing of the bells, voices, or footsteps. The chorus began in the song, and you got so caught up in it that, singing along loudly, you didn’t notice Leon standing just a couple of steps away from you. And when you did notice...

The plate fell out of your hand when you screamed and jumped in fright. Leon was scared too. And you two looked at each other in silence, like two fools, while your favorite song continued to play from the speaker.