No strings attached / Leon s. Kennedy

Chapter 4

After dinner, I sit down at the computer. There’s gotta be something on Amber, some kind of history that could explain her paranoia, her intensity. Maybe I can find a weakness—hell, something that’ll make my life easier. I type in her name and start digging.

At first, there’s nothing but basic stuff. Employment records, a few university mentions, but after some digging, I hit something buried deeper—a police report. I open it and start reading.

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POLICE REPORT - CASE #42357: Name: Amber Lynn Torres
DOB: 12/03/1979
Incident Date: 09/17/1989
Details:

Victim found at the scene with substantial bodily injuries, including broken ribs, severe head trauma, and multiple contusions.

Victim's father, Andrew Torres, found deceased with a self-inflicted gunshot wound.

Victim's mother, Carolyn Torres, also found at the scene, deceased from multiple gunshot wounds inflicted by Andrew Torres.

The incident is classified as a murder-suicide.

Victim Amber Lynn Torres survived the incident but lost significant memory of the events, presumably due to the trauma sustained.

Why Amber Torres survived while both parents perished remains unclear. Investigation ongoing.

---

I lean back in my chair, staring at the screen. Fuck.

This could be faked, part of some cover-up by Umbrella, but if it isn’t... well, that explains a hell of a lot. It’s no wonder she’s so tightly wound. Surviving something like that, losing her memory—if this is real, it opens up more questions than it answers. Why did she survive? How much of this does she even remember?

And if Umbrella did fake it, why? What’s their angle with her?

Either way, it adds a new layer to the person who’s been keeping too close an eye on me.

This whole thing’s more messed up than I thought.

I pick up the phone and dial Chris, my mind still on the police report. He picks up after a couple of rings, his voice gruff on the other end.

"Leon. What’s going on?" Chris asks, sounding a little tired.

"I found something," I say, getting straight to the point. "About Amber Torres, the one that's been assigned to... babysit me."

He sighs. "Go on."

"There’s this old police report. Her father, Andrew Torres, shot her mother and then killed himself. Amber survived—barely—but lost most of her memory from the incident. Happened when she was a kid." I pause, still trying to make sense of it all. "It’s a messed-up situation, but something about it doesn’t sit right. You ever hear of this? She was born in '79"

Chris is quiet for a moment. "Actually, yeah... I think I remember something like that."

My heart skips a beat. "You do?"

"Yeah, back when I joined the BSAA last year, I heard rumors about a case like that. The government had a close eye on this young woman—barely eighteen, fresh out of high school in '97. The details were vague, but the date of birth would match up with Amber."

I rub my temple, trying to piece it all together. "You think she could be personally related to Umbrella?"

"Hard to say. There was never anything concrete linking the case to Umbrella back then, but it did catch the government's attention. I remember hearing they kept tabs on her for years, but nothing ever came of it—officially, at least."

"Figures." I lean back in my chair, running a hand through my hair. "This could be bigger than I thought. If she’s connected to something deeper, maybe that’s why she’s here. Or why they’re keeping her around."

"Could be," Chris says. "But don’t jump to conclusions just yet. We know how these things go—sometimes it’s just a coincidence, but if you think there’s something off, follow your gut. Keep an eye on her, but don’t push too hard."

"I won’t," I mutter, though my mind is racing with the possibilities.

Chris pauses before speaking again. "Be careful, Leon. If Umbrella’s involved with her personally... things could get ugly fast."

"Yeah, I know." I hang up, staring at the screen.

If this is real, if Amber’s been under the government’s watch all this time, then what’s her role here? Is she a victim? Or is she in on something?

I’m going to figure it out, one way or another.

It makes sense now. Everything starts to click into place. Why Amber is trusted so much, why she’s in on everything that happens at Umbrella—but it feels like she doesn’t truly know the full story, as if they’re keeping her just on the edge of the truth.

Umbrella must’ve taken her under their wing right when she turned eighteen. They probably swept in after that tragedy with her family, "offering help" just as she was at her most vulnerable. But why? Did they feel guilty for something? Maybe they were responsible for what happened, and taking her in was their way of covering it up.

Or maybe they were worried she’d remember something—something she saw that night, something buried deep in her subconscious. If she ever regained those memories, it could blow the whole thing wide open. She survived a nightmare, and Umbrella ensured they had control of the only witness who could expose them.

The question is, does she know? Does she even suspect what happened to her, or is she completely in the dark, trusting the very people who might’ve destroyed her life?

I need to be careful. If she’s just a pawn in all of this, she might not even realize she’s being used. But if she does know... that’s a whole different problem. Either way, Amber Torres isn’t just another researcher, she could be dangerous.

I turn the PC off with a frustrated sigh. That’s enough. Amber pisses me off enough at work; I don’t need her taking up space in my head when I’m supposed to be unwinding at home.

I lean back in my chair and rub my face. I shouldn’t feel anything about what I read. I’m here to gather intel, not get caught up in someone else’s baggage. But something about it... something about what happened to her, it nags at me. It’s not sympathy—maybe curiosity. Maybe trying to figure out if she’s an ally or an enemy in disguise.

Either way, I’ve got enough to deal with tomorrow. I don’t need her in my head tonight.

I stand up, stretch, and walk away from the computer. Whatever I feel, it’s irrelevant. Tomorrow, I’ll keep my distance, play the role, and get back to business.