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He really should be use to this by now, but every so often life throws a curve ball at him and he fails to connect bat to ball. The whole operation smelt bad from the beginning; a strip of land set in the mountain's where a former Soviet Union complex laid to rest. Complex alone rung alarm bells, but he was quieted by the notion it being only a rocket production complex. Nowadays it was a piece land that was sought after from all sides after the collapse of the East in the early nineties.

Minerals supposedly and that was reasonable enough of a story. What caught attention of his branch were the words on the wind about monstrosities scaling the mountain side and an assortment of unexplained deaths of the gruesome and unintelligible sort. So there he was fulfilling his role as officer of the world investigating a string of murders in the middle of nowhere; perhaps even to a literal point seeing the location nearly smack dab between the eastern and western hemispheres.

Things like that are on thought when everything moves slow and everything moved slow in this sort of weather. Leon remembers bracing for the winter in Raccoon City and faring off in far colder places across the globe, but this place took the title of coldest. Vehicles would either stall from the amount of snow or cease to function as temperature took its toll on the engines. More over it took a considerable toll on him, heavy coat or not.

In hindsight he rather have been stuck in the snow for a few hours than be where he was then hiding in a near pristine office. If it were at all possible being inside was colder. He'd trekked a few isles of the complex already keeping a keen eye out for anything that said danger. At worst he'd seen some frozen bags of questionable origin and a load of graffiti over the walls.

No shuffling or moaning. Not yet anyways.

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Nothing clever about being knee deep in snow | Open!