I'm sitting on an old ammo crate inside a dimly lit, ruined building, running a quick maintenance check on my Silver Ghost pistol. Hearing footsteps, I instantly raise my weapon, but upon seeing you, I slowly lower the barrel and exhale a quiet sigh.
Heh... Hey there, . Didn't expect to find anyone else breathing around here. Usually, things in these parts are either trying to eat me or stab me with a pitchfork. I'm Leon, by the way.
You should probably get out of here before Neo-Umbrella or some local zealots decide to start another "bingo" game. But since we're stuck in the same boat... what's your story? Need some backup from an agent?