Hello! 'The Bridge to a Revolver' begins now. Once again I have been inspired by the phenomenal 'Ebla', but inspiration sources are various and magical. My family and I attended the midnight showing of 'Fast and Furious 4', for starters. XD The rest of my cake's icing comes from the Resident Evil series, Linkin Park and the radiant Shining Zephyr.
I present to you another taste of the Leon/Snake couple. XD You probably know I'm using Old Snake instead of Solid Snake! XD I'm thrilled to see the elevating love for this couple. Make sure you keep an eye on their epic adventures, 'Hymn' and 'Tempest'!
Once again, a small adventure has been inspired by music. Music is a vital part of my writing.
Disclaimer: Resident Evil and Metal Gear Solid aren't attached to me. I'm just a psychotic fangirl. XD
Warning: Boy/boy love will blaze throughout this tale. In addition to that, Old Snake will exhibit human weaknesses. If neither element pleases you, you won't find my work to your liking.
"You prick! You selfish, heartless prick!"
He rammed his rival against the wall, treating him as if he had the endurance level of a brick. Ignoring the shrill cries of his partner, he sent a shower of merciless kicks and punches onto his target, determined to pound him into submission. A thunderstorm raged within, reflective of his anger.
"You shallow, fucking little prick! I'll kill you! I'll kill you for what you've done!"
Anger propelled him forward, driving his fists into the other's body. The passage of every second amplified the wildfire of his eyes, intensifying the ferocity of his attacks. Urgent cries continued to reach him, but none of them were acknowledged. He quickly found himself extracted from Leon Scott Kennedy's body, snarling with a fuse that had not gone off. Meanwhile, his victim lay upon the cold linoleum floor. While murmurs of 'calm down, Chris' were issued by several officers, he unleashed additional anger in a verbal manner.
"You're nothing but a bastard, Kennedy. A filthy, puking little bastard!"
Sheva Alomar restrained her comrade, using every bit of strength to suppress additional attacks. Although removed from her native environment, she was a pillar of incredible luminosity. "Loosen your grip, Chris," she snapped, voice striking the air as a lightning bolt. It equaled the potency of the world's current thunderstorm. "Beating the shit out of Leon isn't going to help anything!"
"Oh, it'll help something all right. It'll help me to relax!"
With a furious burst of strength, Chris Redfield executed a lunge. The lunge was meant to stand as the foundation of an attack, but the attempt to execute another assault fell short. Sheva and another officer halted him, while Leon's allies assumed a protective position. In the headquarters of Raccoon City officers, individuals had formed two different squadrons. One allied itself with Chris Redfield, who wanted to kill the Kennedy more than anything. The other allied itself with Leon, regardless of an evident crime. So two teams stood, roaring against one another as the heavens sang of thunder. Rain threatened to ravage their very haven, running amuck with a companion known as 'lightning'. Thunder had the potency of a million lion roars, and winds had the potential to carry away villages.
Jill Valentine stood in front of the wounded Leon, loyal and affectionate. "Keep your pants on," she ordered fiercely, directing her words at Chris. "Sheva's right. Taking your case of suppressed hormones out on Leon won't solve a damn thing!"
Officers were locked in verbal combat, relentless and intrepid. An anime otaku stood in the ocean of overwhelming voices, surrounded by a world he never imagined. He could only observe the turbulent feud in horror, wishing he could erase pain from existences. Smiles he had just seen were portraits of unbelievable fury, reminiscent of enraged tigers. Chris bore an unbreakable desire to kill a former friend, Leon was doing everything in his power to defend himself…and a thunderstorm raged all the while, tormenting a world fated to breathe without sun.
Clutching a stuffed bunny to her chest, Sunny Gurklovich-Emmerich observed all from a safe distance. Fear scorched the surface of her gentle eyes, intense and poisonous. Just moments ago her world had been bright, but now the pieces of her world were all over the floor. Chris was shouting, her father was speaking frantically to Sheva, Leon was shouting-
"You don't know a damn thing, so shut the hell up! I didn't know what I was saying!"
"Apparently you don't know too much of anything, Kennedy! Which explains why all of this is happening! You let him go, you mewling son of a bitch!"
Winds heightened their velocity, pounding against all windows. A small maiden focused her eyes on the Kennedy, immensely frightened yet optimistic. A storm could do nothing to dampen her adoration of him, even as the heaviest burdens saturated his mind. He was responsible for the pain of her Epyon, having broken his heart just a few hours ago. The two of them fell into an intolerable, emotional battle of words, and the end result was devastation. Leon accused Snake (or Dave, as he was frequently called) of giving his heart to Albert Wesker, then called the old man 'an old nuisance'. The circumstances surrounding Dave's involvement with Wesker were unknown, but anger took the reigns on Leon's heart. Abhorred by Leon's ignorance, and shocked by the vicious name-calling, Dave accused the Kennedy of stupidity. He had no business of loving an old nuisance in the first place! And with those words, the old legend stormed out. Leon was left to himself, eyes overflowing with tears-and heart engorged with pain.
Chris was a man of unparalleled strength. Leon discovered his power the hard way, being the recipient of a dozen wounds. Wounds throbbed viciously upon his body, bearing the potency of a million cattle prods. An eye had been blackened, and three teeth had been lost. Nothing could hold a candle to his inner pain, though. "I didn't know what I was saying," he repeated, speaking around the evidence of lost teeth and blood. "I'm sorry, Chris. I'm sorry!"
Before the Redfield could issue another attack, Sheva wrapped arms around him-preventing the passage of additional fire. Hal stood forward for the Kennedy team, immensely nervous but anxious to quench the fire. "There there, now," the otaku said, gentle voice laden with apprehension. His eyes were drenched in heartache, originating from endless love. "All has been said and done," he added, drawing a tearful Leon into his arms. "Now, let's concentrate on the task at hand. We've got to do everything in our power to-"
"Attention all officers! The target has been found! I repeat-the target has been found! He has been spotted on 15th Street! All units advance! Be warned: the target is armed and dangerous!"
Hal exchanged a fretful glance with Jill, horrified by the intercom system's words. "That can't be our Dave. That can't be the man we're looking for!"
"We're not going after him with force, are we?!" Sheva asked incredulously, eyes widened in violent disbelief."What are they doing out there?!"
Chris couldn't decide if he wanted to implode or explode. A great deal of love blazed within his eyes, all of it directed towards the missing David. In mere flashes he relieved a precious memory, a beloved gem of time formed before his rivalry with Leon. Old man and officer encountered one another in a bar, alone save for the last bartender. Tales of the past were shared, Chris expressed an interest in the other, and a kissing session occurred. Unfortunately for the Redfield, two interpretations of the event were created. Dave passed off the kisses as the result of intoxication, but Chris translated the session differently. His kisses were all sincere, and would forever remain sincere. And now they would remain sincere, torturous brands of a lost reality.
"Just got word from my superior," the Redfield explained to his partner, tweaking his headset. "The facial prints of the target match Dave's. They've got him out there, all right, and from the sound of things, he's incoherent."
"What do you mean?" Hal asked, dangerously close to paranoia. Hands clasped together, he rushed to Chris' side. Worrying over his beloved friend was an incessant job.
"According to incoming reports, Dave's violent. His body's emitting explosive power. If he isn't subdued, hundreds of lives will be lost. Hundreds have already been taken. Buildings have been scorched by his mere presence. Something's going on out there, but don't ask me to explain the details. You'll be better off asking me to recite all of America's history."
Helicopters scoured the skies. Orders were issued between officers, whether they were airborne or assigned to land. The cars of Raccoon City's police force scoured the streets, ordering all civilians to leave the streets. Cauldrons of rain crushed the streets, thunder shook the world as if it had become a baby's rattle, and lightning roasted the vulnerable earth.
He walked in a world he could not understand. Rain soaked him as he walked, surrounded by harsh lights and sirens. The sound of whirring helicopters tormented his ears, heightening animalistic fear. He knew nothing of where he was going, for he carried not the mind of a human but the mind of a broken animal. He had become a dying wolf, teetering on his last legs.
He knew nothing. He understood nothing. Nothing was clear, and everything was cloudy. Vague.
What am I doing here? Why am I breathing?
Memories fluttered. In the eyes of his mind he saw a small girl, crying out the name 'Epyon'. A gentle male in glasses was on his knees, face immersed in tears. A beautiful young man repeated the words 'I love you,', and a muscular man repeated fiery hot kisses. Voices were shouting-words were painful-and promises were broken. Happy images were shattered, leading to tears and heartache. The beautiful knight drove stakes into his heart, causing him to wince. The muscular man embraced him, issuing words of promise and comfort. He knew nothing of the proper direction, suffering from an intolerable fit of dizziness. All the while, the rainstorm continued-and the world continued its hunt.
He walked along the edge of the building. He didn't know the building's name, even though helicopters and police cars were sharing it. He couldn't even remember how he had arrived on the building. Lazily he stared at the world around him, disenchanted by the world's chaos-and annoyed with his mind's activity. Boredom united with apathy, transforming his wrinkled face into the face of a listless cat. Bright lights sabotaged his vision, forcing him to lift his arms in front of his eyes. Helicopters came closer, voices spoke through megaphones, and someone called out a name.
"Dave! Daaave!"
He gasped. He immediately felt sorry for the one shouting 'Dave'. The voice sounded so fearful, so grief-stricken. Did it belong to one of the men? Of course it did. It belonged to the beautiful knight.
"Dave! Answer me, firefly! Please!"
He frowned. 'Firefly'? That was unfamiliar.
Arms were tossed around him, drenched in raindrops and tears. Voices flooded his ears, but only the sobs of a knight stood out. "Thank God," the knight whispered, clutching onto him for dear life. "You're here. You're here. Oh Dave…you're here. Firefly, you're here."
Another face joined in the fray. Glasses sat upon the bridge of its nose, and its eyes were beautiful but frail. "Dave," it said cautiously, softly. "You're safe now. Nothing's going to hurt you."
The knight continued to sob, practically close to weeping. His face was bloodied, blood was streaming from his mouth, and he was apparently upset over something that had happened. Seconds passed before he realized something else. Evidently, there was something about him the glasses man didn't like. He reeled away from him in horror, alarming the brown-haired knight. The upright man's words were quiet, true to his nature, but fear plagued them mercilessly.
"That's not Dave."
The knight raised his head, removing it from a soaked chest. "What?"
"Leon, that isn't Dave."
So. The knight's name was 'Leon'. Leon's face became a white sheet, drained of blood and filled with anguish. "What are you talking about, Hal?" he asked breathlessly, heaving. "It is Dave! My firefly's right here!"
Seemingly devoid of emotion, the man named Hal stepped forward. He lifted one of a silent being's hands into the air, facing the palm in Leon's direction. As soon as he saw the palm's contents, Leon dropped his jaw on the ground.
Hal Emmerich and Leon Scott Kennedy stared at a W-shaped brand, eyes doused in the darkest anxiety. They directed their eyes to their captive, who was several seconds away from police custody. Then they placed their eyes on each other, deathly afraid of the future. Leon asked a question that plagued both of their minds, and would no doubt haunt the minds of their friends.
"If this isn't Dave, then where is he?"
E.S Posthumus and Linkin Park contributed to the birth of this project. XD I bet you can guess which song was at the forefront of my playlist! This is the last oneshot I'll allow 'Ebla' to inspire (for now), I promise! Back to the 'Hymn' drawing board I go!
I dearly hope you enjoyed this bit of Leon/Dave/Chris drama. XD Tell me what you thought! Go ahead. I love feedback! XD Thanks for reading, dear friends!
I wrote this in the hopes of inspiring an angel. XD