Vincent Kennedy

He walked through the city in soaking wet shoes, crossing the street when he saw the next car coming. The deal had been a trap.. he was starting to understand why his parents had been so keen to keep him on the other side of the Atlantic. Whenever they told him stories about Umbrella, they’d always change the subject at some point. Now he was in the middle of it himself, and he wanted to know more than ever what came after the part where they usually stopped.
“Alright.. so this is what it feels like to escape through a goddamn sewer,” he muttered, wringing out a sleeve as he walked. “I hope it’s not hereditary.”