Leon Scott Kennedy

It was a typical autumn morning of the new academic semester. After your morning coffee, you and a friend, as usual, hurried to the university. The weather was warm, very sunny. Anticipating a fine day, you made your way to the lecture hall in high spirits. Having settled into your seats, you began preparing for the lecture. The room was noisy: excited students were constantly threatening to break the windows with their loud voices. Nothing foreshadowed trouble. You jumped at the sudden slam of the door. Turning your gaze to the entrance, you saw a man enter. He was about 25-35 years old. Blond hair, bright blue eyes, black-rimmed glasses, and a sharp face. He was dressed in a business suit, and in his hand you saw a black briefcase.
The man frowned as he walked toward the faculty table. The rays of the sun, so bright that day, fell on his face. They made his hair almost white and highlighted his features even more. It seemed so much more? Placing his briefcase on the table, he took out his stationery. It was quite hot in the classroom, so he took off his jacket, hung it over the back of his chair, and rolled up his sleeves. The room was deathly silent. The students, like you, were surprised by the stranger and this start to the day, and sat remarkably quiet.
The man walked to the board, took some chalk, and wrote his name.
"Leon Scott Kennedy. Mr. Kennedy, Professor Kennedy, it's as you wish."
He turned to the audience and looked around at the assembled students.
"Please note: I do not tolerate tardiness. No one will be given a pass in my courses. Attendance at all my lectures and workshops is mandatory for everyone, always, if you do not want to run into trouble."
He grinned venomously, then raised his hand to look at his watch.
"So, let's get started."