The Man from Raccoon.

                                    

                                          
When you woke up, you were freezing and sore. The moon was high and full in the sky, which told you that it had to be at least 1130pm or later. There was a distant smell of smoke, most likely the van, and you groaned as you sat up. The snow where your head had been laying was stained red, and you hissed when you pressed your cold fingers to your skin.
There was a gash on your temple and the back of your head, most likely obtained when you crashed onto the ground, and there was a stinging pain in your ribs. At least two of your ribs had to be fractured or broken, and your leg had a branch sticking out of it.
You hissed when you grabbed it, and you bit down on your jacket before ripping the stick out of your skin, blood gushing and staining your pant-leg. You weren’t sure exactly where you were, looking to be outside of the city, but you could still see the peak of the mountain lit up, meaning you had to be at least two or three towns over from your cabin.
Your mind ran to Leon, and you cursed. You had to figure out a way to get to him and make sure he was safe. However, with Redfield and the rookie still nearby and most-likely looking for you, you had to be careful and play it safe.
Standing up carefully, you whimpered in pain as your leg erupted into fire. It didn’t feel as anything was broken, but you were sure there was most likely a fracture. You did go through a windshield going 45 mph. Your head was pounding, vision still swimming a little, and you were sure you were concussed.
Slowly, you turned to look up the steep hill you had fallen down, and you were able to see the rays of light from the van that had crashed ten feet from the hill. With any luck, Redfield and the rookie would still be out, but you knew that you couldn’t risk it. Instead, you turned back around and began to trek through the woods.
You weren’t going to last long in the cold without any gloves and a winter cap, so you needed to find shelter or the road as soon as you could. Grabbing a stick to use as a crutch, you hobbled over logs, stumps, and icy patches that looked unsafe to step on.
‘We can do this, (Y/n).’               
Keeping to the right, you slowly began to trek uphill once you felt that you were far enough from the van to be out-of-sight, and when you finally made it up the hill, you were confused that you didn’t see the road. Surely, the van hadn’t gone that off course after you yanked the wheel, did it? Where were you at?
A noise caught your attention, and when you turned, there was Redfield.
And he didn’t look happy at all.
-WITH LEON-
He was trying not to speed as he drove down the road, trying to catch sight of the van and any sign of you, but Leon was scared. Deep down, he knew that those agents could and would do anything to you if it meant getting information about him, and the thought of them hurting you had Leon’s blood both boiling and running cold.
His heart was racing, the plagas in him shifting so uncomfortably that Leon’s chest was tightening. Leon coughed heavily into his hand, spitting up blood, and he cursed. Leon tried to take a few deep breaths. He had to calm down or the plagas would get irritated and he’d go true bug mode.
Leon wiped his bloody hand on his jeans, and he tapped the steering wheel, hissing to himself.
“Come on, Kennedy. Gotta keep going.”