silly idea, re2 leon meets and makes friends with nemesis
leon isnt stars so nemesis has no reason to hurt leon
long as he doesnt touch that stars badge of course :}
Buddy Cop Apocalypse (Leon and Nemesis)
🧟♂️✨ CRACKFIC SPOTLIGHT ✨🧟♂️
LEON & NEMESIS: BUDDY COP APOCALYPSE - A Resident Evil One-Shot
What if Leon S. Kennedy’s first day in Raccoon City meant making friends with the city’s scariest bioweapon? Chaos, comedy, and unexpected bromance await!
Author’s Note:
Big thanks to the anonymous requester for this adorable, chaotic prompt—this one’s for you! Hope you enjoy Leon and Nemesis causing mayhem and redefining the meaning of “first day jitters.” If you have more ideas or want a sequel (Jill cameo, anyone?), drop your suggestions below!
Leon S. Kennedy’s first day on the job wasn’t just hell—it was, frankly, stupid. Raccoon City had lost its mind. The police radio was all static, the sky glowed red with fire and sirens, and zombies moaned behind every door. The air stank of rot and fear. Most people would’ve found a closet, locked the door, and cried. Leon, unfortunately, was not most people. He was out of ammo, out of hope, and sprinting for his life down a dark alley that—thanks to fate and Umbrella’s questionable urban planning—led straight into a brick wall.
He spun around, expecting to see a slow, groaning corpse. Instead, he saw a mountain—a leather-clad behemoth stitched together like a kid’s failed sewing project. Shoulders as wide as a car. In one massive hand, it carried a rocket launcher like it was a baguette fresh from the bakery. The thing’s head swiveled, its mouth split open, and it exhaled in a guttural rumble: “STAAAAAARS…”
Leon’s hands shot up, badge raised like a cross to a vampire. “I’m not S.T.A.R.S.! I’m just a—rookie! Leon! Please?”
The monster’s red eyes flickered, scanning the badge, then Leon. It grunted, unimpressed. An awkward silence stretched between them. Leon’s brain short-circuited. Was he going to die? Be launched through a building? Or…?
Nemesis—because, obviously, it was Nemesis—looked past Leon at the growing herd of zombies behind them. With zero warning, he stomped forward, seized Leon by the collar, and flung him—remarkably gently, for an 8-foot death machine—behind a dumpster. Then Nemesis waded into the undead crowd with the subtlety of a bulldozer, scattering limbs and torsos like he was mowing the lawn. Leon watched in slack-jawed awe, heart hammering. Nemesis moved with brutal, monstrous grace. It was terrifying… but also, if Leon was honest, kind of impressive.
A minute later, Nemesis plodded back through the gore. He reached into his belt, produced a first-aid spray, and pressed it into Leon’s shaking hands. “Uh. Thanks?” Leon managed, blinking at the green canister. He was so confused.
Nemesis grunted, the sound vibrating in his chest. Leon was pretty sure that was Nemesis for “Don’t mention it.”
Their partnership was the stuff of fever dreams. Leon, half-dead and covered in grime, trailed after his massive new friend through the ruined city, mind spinning. Was this really happening? Was he honestly following a B.O.W. through zombie hell because it seemed safer than going it alone? The absurdity didn’t escape him, but every time he glanced at Nemesis, the monster just grunted, and Leon somehow felt a little less doomed. The rules became clear fast:
Don’t mention S.T.A.R.S.
Don’t touch the S.T.A.R.S. badge Nemesis kept on a chain like a childhood trophy.
Always accept healing items—even if it’s the weird blue herb that tastes like grass clippings.
Don’t ask questions about the rocket launcher.
If Leon tripped or lagged behind, Nemesis would grunt and gesture him forward. Once, when a flaming zombie staggered into their path, Nemesis simply picked it up by the head and yeeted it through a squad car window. The resulting explosion almost set Leon’s eyebrows on fire. Another time, Leon found a soda machine jammed and smacked it in frustration. Nemesis lumbered over, punched the machine once, and a cold can rolled out. Leon offered him the drink in gratitude. Nemesis stared at it, then crushed the can effortlessly, a faint look of confusion on his monstrous face. Leon tried not to laugh.
Between chaos, Leon sometimes attempted small talk, even as his mind reeled at the madness of it all:
Leon: “So, uh… do you have a name? Or just ‘Nemesis’?”
Nemesis: “…STARS.”
Leon: “Yeah, figured. That’s a no.”
Other times, he rambled just to fill the silence:
Leon: “You know, I thought my worst day would involve a parking ticket. Not, uh, bio-weapons and undead chihuahuas.”
Nemesis: (grunts, hurls a zombie dog into a dumpster)
Leon (nervous laugh): “Yeah, you get it.”
They crossed Raccoon City’s hellscape together: fighting through back alleys littered with bodies, ducking under burning debris, climbing over overturned buses. At one point, a group of zombie dogs cornered Leon. Before he could even draw his empty pistol, Nemesis stomped forward, roared, and sent the entire pack fleeing, tails between their legs. Leon had never been so grateful for unethical science in his life.
They even stumbled across an abandoned news van, radio blaring static. Leon fiddled with the dials, hoping for help. Nemesis watched, curious, until a faint voice crackled through: “…S.T.A.R.S. sighted near…” The radio was promptly crushed by a giant hand. Leon sighed and shrugged. “Not a radio guy, I get it.”
As the night dragged on, they took shelter in a ruined convenience store. Nemesis blocked the door with a shelf, then settled in the corner, ever-watchful. Leon sat on a crate, patched up his arm, and munched on a suspiciously unexpired protein bar. Occasionally, Nemesis would glance at the chain around his neck, the S.T.A.R.S. badge glinting in the firelight. Leon didn’t ask—he’d learned his lesson.
Leon glanced over, mustering a tired smile. “You know, for a bio-weapon, you’re not so bad. Kinda wish you were around during training.”
Nemesis let out a deep, thoughtful grunt.
Leon shifted, feeling awkward. “…Or not. Got it.”
By the time dawn crept over the carnage, Leon was limping, caked in mystery goo, but alive. Nemesis, apparently satisfied with his non-S.T.A.R.S. companion, got to his feet, gave Leon a last, solemn nod, and lumbered away into the smoldering city. At the alley’s end, he paused, turned, and flicked a spent first-aid spray can at Leon—a casual salute from one survivor to another.
“Good luck out there, big guy,” Leon called, genuinely meaning it. He watched Nemesis’s massive silhouette fade into the smoky light.
Somewhere in the ruins, Jill Valentine shivered, sensing a disturbance in the force—Nemesis was supposed to hunt S.T.A.R.S., not make friends with rookie cops.
Leon’s first day was still hell. But at least he had a story no one would ever believe. As sirens wailed in the distance and sunlight crept over the ruins, Leon took a deep breath and realized that surviving alongside Nemesis had changed him. Maybe, he thought, finding hope in this nightmare meant trusting even the unlikeliest of allies. Raccoon City wasn’t completely hopeless after all.
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