Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

BSAA Field Report 2039-7A

Coordinates: 04°N, 73°W — Colombian Rainforest Sector

Mission Objective: Verify intelligence on rogue mercenary known as “Conejo Fantasma.”

Operatives: Chris Redfield, Jill Valentine

Deployed: 0910 hours

Status: Confirmation required

The rainforest breathed like something alive.

Every step Chris Redfield and Jill Valentine took sank into mud slick with rain and rot. The air hung thick, hot, and wet, humming with life: cicadas, distant bird cries, the rustle of leaves as they passed and the constant drip of water from leaves broad enough to drown under. The humidity clung to their clothes like a second skin. Somewhere above the canopy, thunder rolled, lazy and low.

“Tsk. Visibility’s trash,” Jill muttered, pushing a branch aside. “You sure this isn’t just another rumor?”

“Intel came from three different sources,” Chris said, crouching to study a boot print pressed deep into the mud. “Same coordinates. Same description.”

“And that description was what again? The Ghost Rabbit?”

Chris gave a small nod.

“Yeah. The Conejo Fantasma."

“That’s a hell of a nickname,” Jill said. “Sounds like something kids whisper around a campfire.”

“Maybe. But three separate contacts don’t usually share the same descriptive ghost story.”

They moved on, boots squelching in the mud, machete blades clearing a path through the green labyrinth. Hours passed without another trace of civilization, until the forest broke open into a clearing.

Through the haze of humdity and the thick forest, they spotted it: a small wooden cabin, tucked against the roots of a massive ceiba tree. The tin roof was moss-covered, the chimney puffing thin curls of smoke into the gray sky. A tarp-covered jeep rested beside a stack of crates, and the unmistakable scent of coffee drifted through the air.

And all around it… rabbits.

Dozens of them, brown, tan, mottled gray, hopping lazily through the wet grass. Some wore collars fashioned from twine, some had torn ears, some even had missing paws but it didn’t stop their hopping.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me. What the hell is this, a petting zoo?” Jill muttered, crouching as one paused near her boot. “This one’s got a tag. ‘Julia.’ 

“Don’t let your guard down,” Chris warned quietly. “Could be bait.”

“I don’t like this.”

They advanced cautiously. The rabbits twitched their noses, their ears turned to the air, nibbling at the grass but never bolting, their eerie calm was the first warning.

The second came when Chris took another step forward and the ground yanked out from under him.

The world tilted violently. Metal chains screamed. Both BSAA agents were yanked upward, caught in a steel-mesh net that snapped taut above the clearing. Their gear clattered and swung, rifles slamming against armor.

“Son of a—!” Jill hissed, grabbing the mesh. “Really? A trap net?”

“Guess they were expecting company,” Chris grunted.

The forest fell quiet again, except for the creaking of the chain and the soft patter of rain on leaves. A few rabbits hopped beneath them, curious, sniffing at the dropped machete.

Then came the sound of a door opening.

Both turned their heads sharply.

A woman stepped out of the cabin.

Her skin was tan, scarred by sun and survival. Her long black hair was tied into a thick braid, and her faded gray tank top clung to the shape of someone who worked for a living. Mud stained her boots and the cuffs of her cargo pants. She carried a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and yawned, the picture of casual indifference.

She didn’t look like a ghost. 

She looked… tired.

The rabbits hopped toward her, unafraid. She crouched to scratch one behind the ears, she muttered something soft, too soft for them to hear but she did so with a smile.

Chris froze mid-motion. His pulse stuttered. “...Riley?” he whispered.

The woman looked up. For a heartbeat, there was a flicker of recognition, pain, something unspoken, before her expression hardened again, settling into cold detachment. She took another slow sip from her mug, meeting his eyes without a hint of warmth.

“No fucking way,” Jill muttered under her breath. “Chris… that’s—”

“Riley Torres,” Chris said, the disbelief tightening his voice. “You’re…You’re supposed to be—”

“Dead?” Her tone was flat, unamused. She leaned against the tree that held them, her gaze flicking between the two agents. “Yeah, that’s what everyone thought. Didn’t work out.”

She took another sip of coffee, exhaled softly, and nodded once toward them. “So,” she said, voice steady and low, “what do you want?”

Chris opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Every question that had haunted him since Raccoon City clawed at the back of his throat, but one look at her stopped him cold. The warmth, the laughter, the reckless optimism that had once defined Riley Torres was gone. Her eyes were hard steel now, dark and hollow.

“You’re the Conejo Fantasma?” Jill asked cautiously.

Riley’s lips twitched into something like a smirk. She gave a lazy wave of her hand, almost mocking a magician’s final trick.

“In the flesh.”

The nearby thunder hissed through the canopy, the rabbits nibbled quietly at the grass, and two BSAA agents hung suspended in disbelief.

For the first time in years, Chris Redfield felt the cold weight of Raccoon’s dead pressing down on him again.

Chapter Text

The sun was merciless. It hammered down on the cracked asphalt of the Raccoon City Police Academy’s training track, turning the air into a shimmering haze. Boots slammed against the ground in an unsteady rhythm, each one heavier than the last. Cadets gritted their teeth, drenched in sweat, lungs burning as they powered through the final lap of the physical exam.

Leon Kennedy’s legs felt like they were made of lead. Every breath scraped his throat raw. The edges of his vision blurred, the world narrowing to the finish line in the distance and the painful awareness that he was dead last. Again.

A sharp throb in his chest. A stumble. His boot caught on a cracked edge of the track, and this time, gravity didn’t give him a second chance.

WHAM!

Leon hit the ground face-first. Pain flared across his palms as he scrambled to push himself up. The rough asphalt tore at his skin, but it was his pride that stung the most. Groaning, he rolled onto his back, squinting up at the blank blue sky while another cadet jogged past him without a glance.

This is so damn stupid, Leon thought bitterly. I barely passed the written exam. Now a few lousy seconds on a stopwatch might cost me everything?

Footsteps approached: fast and purposeful. He braced himself for the inevitable bark of a drill sergeant tearing into him for slacking. But instead, a different voice cut through the noise.

“Come on, rookie! You’ve got this!”

Leon blinked up, confused by the burst of encouragement. A young woman stood over him, ponytail messy, sweat-slicked but smiling like she'd just won a race. Bright eyes, bright grin, and even brighter energy. He recognized her instantly.

Riley Torres.

She’d sat in the front row during the written exam. Word was she’d shown up ten minutes early and finished the test in half the time. Unlike the others who collapsed after the run, Riley looked like she could do another lap just for fun.

“You’re not done yet,” she said, clapping her hands like a coach on game day. “Let’s go!”

Before Leon could muster a response, the bark finally came.

“Torres! What did I say about assisting other trainees?!” the drill sergeant shouted. “You are not allowed to interfere with another cadet’s exam!”

“I’m not assisting!” Riley shouted back, grinning. “I’m motivating! Totally different! Rule book says nothing about cheering!”

Leon was still flat on his back, blinking in disbelief.

Riley turned back to him. “C’mon! You’ve got this! You’re running out of time, but you can still make it.”

Something in her voice sparked a flicker of stubbornness in Leon. He rolled to his knees, then forced himself upright, legs trembling. And somehow, Riley was right there beside him.

They moved together, Leon stumbling, gasping, sweat burning in his eyes and Riley jogging effortlessly next to him like his own personal hype squad.

“Dig deep, rookie!” she called. “You’re almost there!”

The finish line loomed ahead. The clock ticked down.

Leon gritted his teeth. One last push. One final burst of everything he had left.

He crossed the line.

“Cadet Leon Kennedy: Passed… by fourteen minutes and fifty-nine seconds!”

Just a second to spare. The world finally slowed. The exam was over.

Cadets lounged in the shade beside the field, some nursing sore muscles, others peeling off sweat-drenched uniforms and collapsing onto benches like they’d just survived boot camp. Conversations were hushed. Breaths came in gasps. Even the instructors seemed content to give the group a rare moment of silence.

Leon sat on the grass, his legs sprawled out in front of him, head tilted back to catch whatever breeze the blue sky might spare.

Then came the bounce.

Not footsteps. A bounce.

Riley Torres skipped over like she had just come back from a joyride, not a grueling physical exam. A towel draped around her shoulders, her duffel bag on her other shoulder and in her hands were two neon-colored sports drinks.

“Survivor delivery!” she chimed cheerfully,  handing him a bottle. “Figured you could use a recharge.”

Leon blinked at her, still catching his breath. “How... are you still this cheerful? We just got through hell.”

Riley beamed. “That wasn’t hell. That was cardio. You really want to go through hell, try wrangling five cousins all under the age of six years old while your parents are working, and while making sure the carne asada doesn’t burn for lunch.”

He stared at her like she was some riddle no one warned him about.

She plopped down beside him, cracking open her drink with a satisfying snap. “I’m Riley, by the way. Riley Torres, future decorated police officer and future Detective.”

She stuck out her hand proudly.

Leon honestly didn’t know what to say or even do, part of him refuses to believe she was a real person. After a pause, he reached out and shook her hand. “Leon Kennedy. Future… uh… guy who hopes to not die during this program.”

Riley laughed so hard that a few heads turned. “Well, Leon Kennedy, I’m really glad I got to meet you today, which means we’re gonna be partners from now on.”

Before he could reply, she was already digging into the side pocket of her duffel bag. Out came a clunky Polaroid camera. Leon blinked.

This chick can’t be serious.

“Wait, is that—”

“Smile!”

She looped an arm around his shoulder and leaned in just as the camera clicked and whirred, spitting out a square photo with a soft flap. The picture developed slowly, the two of them materializing in pale blues and pinks. Riley shined her biggest smile and Leon looked like a deer in headlights. 

Riley studied the image with a satisfied grin. “Perfect. Sweaty, a little miserable, but great. First day memories.”

Leon gave her a side glance. “You do this with everyone?”

“Nope,” she said, tucking the photo carefully into her bag. “Just the ones who I think are cool.”

Weeks had passed since the grueling physical exam, and the chaos of orientation had finally faded into a steady rhythm of academy life. But today was different.

The sun had just begun its slow rise over Raccoon City, casting golden light over the narrow parking lot of the Raccoon City Police Academy dorms. Cars were double-parked, trunks were open, boxes stacked on sidewalks, and the air buzzed with nervous energy. Families hugged tightly, cadets hauled belongings, and emotional goodbyes clung to the morning breeze.

Among the crowd, a faded red SUV with a cracked bumper rolled to a stop with a squeaky groan. Selena’s "Si Una Vez" blared from the speakers as the car coughed its last breath for the ride.

Before the engine even shut off, Riley Torres burst out of the backseat, ponytail bouncing and a wide grin stretched across her face. A duffle bag was slung over one shoulder, and she balanced a large cardboard box in her arms like it weighed nothing. She inhaled the crisp morning air, eyes wide as she took in the campus courtyard.

This was it. The first day of the rest of her life!

“This is where it begins,” she whispered to herself, bouncing slightly on her toes.

From the front passenger seat, her mother stepped out wearing her blue hospital scrubs, dark hair twisted into a messy bun with pens sticking out of it like daggers. A cherry lollipop stuck out of her mouth, half-forgotten as she adjusted a box between her arms.

“¡Mija, despacio! (My daughter, slow down)" she called, blinking through watery eyes. “Don’t run like that. You’ll trip, break your nose, and then where will we be!”

“I’m fine, Mami (mom)!” Riley laughed, already setting the box down. “I’m not gonna break my nose on the first day!”

Her mom gave her a look. “Not again, you mean.”

Riley grinned sheepishly.

Her dad came around from the driver’s side, one hand on a cane and another fixing his stained mechanic’s jumper, eyes scanning the building. “Looks clean. Not bad for a city dorm,” he said with a nod of approval, already grabbing another box from the trunk. “You sure you’ll be okay here, mija?”

Riley straightened, planting her fists on her hips.. “I’ll be better than okay. First I’ll survive the academy. Then I’ll get placed at RCPD. Five years from then, I’ll take the detective exam, and boom! I’ll become the greatest detective Raccoon City’s ever seen. After that, they’ll be begging me to be Chief.”

Her thirteen-year-old brother, Mateo, trailed behind in an oversized Colombian flag T-shirt, shorts, and scuffed sneakers. Around his neck dangled comically large headphones attached to a scratched-up CD player.

“She’s totally gonna cry the first night,” he announced flatly.

“Tsk, shut up!” Riley snapped.

Before she could give him a proper noogie, her mother placed a gentle hand on her arm.

“Espera, mija…” (Wait, daughter)

Riley paused, blinking as her mother’s expression softened and crumbled all at once. “Estoy tan orgullosa de ti (I'm so proud of you),” her mom whispered. “You’ve worked so hard for this.”

Her voice cracked as she pulled Riley into a tight hug, tears falling freely now. Riley melted in her arms, clinging back just as hard.

“You’re going to do amazing things. You’re going to be someone important,” her mom whispered into her ear. “Nunca olvides (Never forget). A Torres fights with amor (love), with honor, and protects with everything they are. Even when the world falls apart, you hold the pieces together. That’s who we are.”

“Mami…” Riley’s voice was trembling, eyes overflowing. “You’re gonna make me cry. Nope, too late, I’m crying!”

Then her dad joined the embrace, pulling both women close, his voice gruff with emotion. Mateo hesitated. Huffed. Then shuffled forward and mumbled, “Ugh, fine,” before throwing his arms around Riley’s side. She immediately tugged him closer, kissing the top of his head.

For a second, the family held onto each other like they could freeze time.

That’s when a mechanical death rattle echoed through the lot, breaking the moment.

Heads turned as a beat-up blue Honda sputtered into view, wheezed dramatically, then rolled into an empty space like it had crossed the finish line of a demolition derby. The engine gave one final whimper… and died.

The trunk popped with a metallic clunk, and out stepped Leon Kennedy, rubbing the back of his neck and staring at his recently deceased car like it had betrayed him.

At least it made it to the parking space.

He slung his only duffle bag over his shoulder and sighed.

“Leon!” Riley perked up immediately, waving her arm over her head. “Hey, Leon! Over here!”

Leon froze mid-step. Oh no. Not her again.

With visible hesitation, he trudged toward the Torres family like a soldier walking into a minefield.

“Hey,” he muttered, shifting his bag.

Riley beamed. “Mami (mom), Papi (dad), this is my new friend, Leon Kennedy!”

“I’m not really—” Leon began, but it was too late.

Riley’s mom surged forward with open arms and absolute authority. “¡Ay, tan guapo! (He's so handsome!)” she gasped, cupping his cheeks and planting a kiss on his cheek like he’d been in the family for years. “Riley, you didn’t say your friend was this handsome!”

Leon stood paralyzed.

“I—uh—I didn’t do anything,” he said helplessly.

“Gracias a Dios, mija (Thank god, my daughter) won’t be alone here,” her mom sniffled, giving him a second hug.

Her dad extended a firm hand. “It’s good to meet you, Leon. Thanks for looking out for our girl.” He slapped Leon on the back hard enough to jolt his spine.

“I... yeah. Sure.”

Then came Mateo, slinking around like a shark. He leaned in, lips curling.

“Sooo, are you Riley’s boyfriend?”

Leon’s soul visibly left his body as his ears turned red. “What—no—absolutely not—”

“Ew! No!” Riley barked at the same time, turning red.

Leon turned to her, insulted. “Ew? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re not my type!” she snapped.

Mateo grinned like a demon. “Then why are you both blushing?”

Riley smacked him lightly on the back of the head. “Cabezón (You large-headed).He’s just a friend!”

Leon looked ready to burst into flames. “I think I’m gonna go find my dorm now,” he muttered, already backing away.

“Okay! See you in class!” Riley called. “I’ll save you a seat!”

“Ciao, Leon!” her mom called sweetly, giving him one last hug and another cheek kiss. Her father clapped his back one more time with a hearty, “Take care!”

It was, without a doubt, the most hugs Leon had ever received in one day. Possibly in his entire life.

He wandered off toward the dorms in a daze.

Back with her family, Riley wiped her cheeks and turned to face them with one last smile.

“I should head in too. I wanna get a head start on the reading material before class starts.” She hugged her dad, kissed her mom, and locked Mateo into a bear hug he pretended to hate. “I’ll call you once I’m settled, okay?”

Grabbing her boxes, Riley headed for the entrance. At the door, she turned back one last time to see her parents waving through tearful smiles. Mateo was quickly wiping his eyes, trying to hide the tears.

Riley blinked fast, trying to hold herself together, then gave a firm nod and disappeared into the dorm.

She didn’t know what the future held… but it had officially begun.

Leon Kennedy hauled his duffel bag up the narrow stairwell of the men’s dormitory, his boots echoing against the linoleum floor. He stopped in front of his assigned door, exhaled, and pushed it open.

The room was… sparse. Cramped. A single bed pushed up against one wall, a plain wooden desk and chair shoved into the corner, and a small dresser with a scratchy academy-issued towel folded neatly on top. The white walls were completely bare, interrupted only by a narrow window that looked out onto the track field, where the late afternoon sun slanted in with a dusty haze.

Leon dropped his duffel onto the chair and collapsed onto the mattress with a sigh. The springs creaked like they were protesting the weight of existence.

No posters. No personal touches. No signs that anyone had ever stayed here longer than necessary.

He ran a hand through his messy hair and stared at the ceiling.

He was here to survive, to learn, to change. To become something more than the scared rookie who barely scraped through orientation. He was here to be a cop.

Meanwhile, across campus in the women’s dorms, Riley Torres was pushing open the door to her room with her hip, a final cardboard box in her arms and her duffel bouncing against her side.

She took one look at the blank white walls and immediately decided: That was going to change.

And fast.

By the time the box hit the floor, Riley had already claimed the space as her own. Her bed was made, bright red sheets tucked in tight, topped with a soft pink throw and a rainbow of decorative pillows in shades of blush, rose, and peach. A fluffy white rug covered the cold tile floor, and the air smelled faintly of strawberry body spray and ambition.

Her desk was an explosion of color and chaos: neon highlighters, glitter pens arranged by her favorite color, stacks of labeled notebooks, and her freshly issued textbooks already dog-eared and post-it tagged. A mini chalkboard sat proudly in the corner, scribbled in pink chalk with her personal mission statement:

Finish Top 5 in the class (just like Papi)
Master firearm safety (and chancla safety)
Learn everyone’s name (and their nicknames!)
“A Torres fights with amor, with honor, and protects with everything they are.”

Beside it, a corkboard hung with two Polaroids.

The first showed Riley grinning between her parents and her little brother at the academy gate, her mom wiping away tears, her dad giving a thumbs-up, and Mateo in the back flashing bunny ears behind her head.

The second was more recent: her and Leon after the physical entrance exam. Riley beamed, arm proudly wrapped around a sweaty, stunned-looking Leon who stared at the camera like he’d just escaped a war zone. Riley looked like she’d won a medal.

“Perfect,” she murmured, tapping the corner of the photo.

Ten minutes before Patrol Procedures 101 began, Riley sat front and center in the classroom, her knees tucked neatly beneath the desk. Her notebook, plastered in tiny bunny stickers, lay open and ready. Glitter pens, arranged in a perfect gradient from bubblegum to lavender, glistened under the fluorescent lights.

She had backups. 

Of course she had backups.

Flipping through her textbook, she tapped her pen against her lip thoughtfully, eyes scanning the empty classroom. A few cadets trickled in after the bell, chatting quietly and filling the seats in pairs. Some offered polite nods. No one sat beside her.

Riley barely noticed. She was already highlighting protocol for the third time.

Then, the door slammed open.

“Crap!”

Leon Kennedy stood in the doorway, panting. His uniform jacket was crooked, hair windblown, and a suspicious damp patch darkened the side of his shirt like he’d either sprinted across campus… or been attacked by a fire hydrant.

Possibly both.

Riley’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Hey! You made it!”

She waved him over with both hands, then patted the empty chair beside her. “There’s space here!”

Leon hesitated.

Seriously? She was still doing this?

Every other seat was filled. Everyone else had already partnered up. He sighed and trudged over, collapsing into the chair beside her like it might explode.

“Uh… thanks,” he muttered, already regretting waking up this morning.

The desk was a little too low, and his thigh scraped the underside. Great. He pulled out his academy notebook and cracked it open to a blank page.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Riley already five pages deep into hers—color-coded, highlighted, and underlined. He blinked. Had she started taking notes before class even started?

Then a glittery lavender pen appeared in front of him.

Riley held it out with a grin. “Need something to write with? I’ve got extras.”

Leon stared at the pen.

He sighed.

This was going to be a very long four years.