[TWD x Resident Evil] — Chapter 630 - The President's Support

"Smith." The President spoke without warning.

"Sir." Smith snapped to attention.

"You and your men are not coming back." The President issued his new order.

Smith went still.

"Your new assignment: take your special operations detachment and stay at this base."

"I'll send the full detachment to you afterward."

"And Hank — he should still be on Rockfort Island. I'll have him stand down from the infiltration mission."

The President looked at the screen.

"You are to keep Ashley safe."

"If you find out this kid's treating her badly, feel free to use those extremely professional methods of yours to make his life difficult."

The line landed with enough dry American humor to cut the tension in the room by half.

What it also was, in practice, was an indirect gift to Leon, an exceptionally elite group of top-tier fighters, delivered right to his door.

Leon read it perfectly.

A fully staffed special forces unit, completely free of charge. This future father-in-law, well. At least the man had some conscience.

And the moment these men walked through the prison gates, they answered to him. Every last one of them.

"Understood, Mr. President."

Smith had a hundred questions. His soldier's instincts answered all of them for him. He accepted the order without flinching.

Out on the wasteland, staying somewhere this secure beat riding Armored Vehicles down highway death-runs fighting monsters. There was no contest.

The President turned his gaze back to Leon.

He waved a hand.

"Kid." The address had shifted.

"Send Smith and the others out. I want a word with you. Just us."

Ashley read the room and slipped out without a word.

Smith turned on his heel and pulled the heavy wooden door shut behind him. Hard.

The room went quiet. Leon was the only one left.

He dragged the stool over and sat down directly in front of the communication screen.

The President watched Leon's casual posture from the other side of the screen. No irritation. No offense taken. He tugged at his tie with an almost relaxed ease, reached across the desk, and lifted a cigar. He lit it.

Smoke curled up and softened his features until they were nearly indistinct.

"I don't smoke often. But when something's really eating at me, I tend to light one up."

"You've got nerve." The President exhaled a slow breath of pale smoke. "At your age, on this soil, you are absolutely the first person to sit in front of me without losing their composure."

Leon raised an eyebrow.

"Mr. President, the streets outside are crawling with Walkers looking for their next meal."

"The whole suit-and-tie social performance — it's completely useless in this godforsaken world."

He leaned back in his chair.

"I think we're both better off keeping this direct."

"All the pleasantry is hollow filler. Completely worthless."

"Well said." The President nodded, genuine, no performance in it.

He had no interest in playing the politician right now.

"You've done solid work with this prison." He got to the point. "That wall alone makes me a little envious."

"You kept Ashley safe. I'm leaving Smith and his finest with you as a security detail. Call it mutually beneficial."

"So." Leon cut straight to the core of it, sharp as always. "What is it you actually want from me?"

Politicians never hand out favors for nothing.

Even when the politician in question was technically his future father-in-law.

The President let out a slow breath.

He set the cigar on the ashtray. Then he scrubbed his face with both hands, hard, like a man trying to press the exhaustion back in.

"I'm tired, Leon." The weariness in his voice was bone-deep. "In this bunker, I am nominally the Supreme Commander of the United States of America."

"I'm not going to hide it. I'm not going to dress it up."

"The truth is, right now, I can't mobilize a single National Guard camp a hundred kilometers away. My orders don't reach that far."

"The warlords, the ones holding guns — dropped all pretense a long time ago."

"They seize supplies. They enslave civilians. What they do is worse than the monsters out there eating people."

The President's eyes fixed on Leon.

"So I'll say it plainly."

"I need your help."

"And I can give you official authorization." His pace picked up. "You can annex any faction you find unacceptable, in the name of restoring order to the United States. And within your means, help the survivors in your region. I can't reach that far from here, and Fort Benning is a complete disaster."

"Don't worry, there's something in it for you. I'll give you a classified list. Specific coordinates for several hidden strategic reserve depots across 3 nearby states, plus the locations of some extremely well-concealed missile silos."

He was handing Leon a gift with both hands.

In an era starving for firepower, that list had no number attached to its value.

Leon felt the corner of his mouth pull wider.

He'd been sitting on exactly this problem, once Simon's broadcast started pulling people in, he wouldn't have enough legitimacy to take control of the bigger picture.

Now that problem was gone.

This was seizing territory by imperial decree.

Once that authority was draped around his shoulders, anyone who resisted wasn't just an enemy.

They were a traitor.

"Alright." Leon didn't hesitate for a second. "I'll help you."

He was going to tear through every faction that didn't know its place regardless. Official backing just made it cleaner.

"Then good luck to you, kid."

"Keep my daughter safe."

A beat.

"Or I will not let you off. I mean that."

It carried the weight of something simpler and older than any presidential order, the plain warning of a father who meant every word.

➤ Next: Why the President Backs Him