Leon was very tired, very sore, and very much in need of a rest. He spotted a garage and pointed to it. "Pull in here. We'll hunker down in that building until Luis wakes up."

They were once again on the surface. Leon had absolutely no idea where to go from here, and wouldn't until Luis came around. Hopefully that wouldn't take too long.

The man had been knocked out cold by the super-Colmillo's impact, but because Leon had managed to shoot its lower jaw off before touchdown, it had been unable to bite him. He'd even been spared serious damage by a quick move on Elleah's part. When she'd felt the thing land in the RTV bed, she'd jerked the wheel to the side and pumped the brakes, jolting them just enough to send the massive, top-heavy animal careening over the side without bucking the humans on board. She'd taken off again before the thing could regain its footing, and had kept ahead of it long enough to get them to the lift to the surface, which they'd taken in the interest of escaping the remaining Colmillos.

The lift had been large enough to hold the RTV, thank God. Leon didn't know what he'd have done if it hadn't been. They'd come out in a small warehouse filled with Ganados, and he'd barely been able to get them onto the streets. He largely credited their escape to Elleah's driving; she really knew how to use this thing.

They'd come out on a narrow road and had just managed to lose their pursuers. Leon hoped that by ducking into this garage they'd be able to buy themselves a few minutes to bring Luis around. He had a minor head injury and a few scratches, including a good-sized one on his lower lip that would definitely leave a scar, but other than that he seemed alright. Alright for a guy who'd just had a one-ton wolf plow into him at thirty miles an hour, that is. Not a pleasant experience by any metric, but shockingly, not lethal.

Elleah pulled into the garage and cut the engine while Leon jumped out and pulled down the door. He didn't hear any calls of alarm, so he was pretty sure they'd escaped notice.

She jumped out and went around to the RTV to check on Luis. She crawled into the bed and immediately took up a supportive position behind him, laying his head in her lap and brushing the hair out of his face. It looked like all of the last hour's combat had woken her up completely, because she'd finally bucked the general appearance of exhaustion she'd had since they'd recovered her. Second wind, he supposed. Or third. Actually, given how little sleep she'd gotten lately, she was probably on her fifth or sixth. Poor kid.

Ashley came around, too, and even she looked worried. "Is he alright?" She asked.

Leon jumped into the bed and checked his pulse again. Steady, but he sure as hell wouldn't be waking up any time soon. He'd definitely need some recovery time. "He'll be fine," Leon replied. "He's just unconscious."

"Is there anything we can do for him?" Elleah asked.

Leon considered their situation. It was cold, and if they were going to be spending much more time here, they'd need blankets. Their water was out as well.

"We need blankets and water," he concluded. "He needs to be kept warm, and he'll need to be hydrated when he wakes up."

Ashley pulled her sweater off. It was mostly dry and probably warmer than anything else around. He thought she was going to finally put it on, but instead she draped it over Luis. "We should go find what we need while he rests up here. Elleah, will you be alright on your own for a while? You can keep an eye on him, right?"

She nodded, but Leon shook his head. There was no way in hell he was letting these two get separated again. "No. We'll hide him here as best we can, and we won't go far, but we aren't splitting you two up again. Besides, it's too dangerous to leave you on your own," he said to Elleah. "Since you're not on the kidnap list anymore."

"What?" Ashley asked, confused. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Elleah didn't look up from Luis as she said, "Everyone's kind of been trying to kill me. It looks like they decided that you're the only one they really need."

Ashley looked stricken. She held a hand to her mouth for a moment, then nodded. "Okay," she said. "How do we hide him?"

Leon looked around the room and saw a pile of tarps in the corner. He went over, moved these aside, and returned to Luis. He hated to leave him behind so unceremoniously, but they really needed water. He picked his Spanish buddy up in a fireman's carry – God, he was heavy – and carried him over to the corner. Then he covered him up with the tarps and said, "They won't find him here easily. Let's go shopping."

Elleah looked pained by the idea of leaving him behind, even for a few minutes, but she relented. There was a door leading further into the building, and he took this and prayed there would be a sink somewhere in here that spouted clean water.

There was no telling what this building was supposed to be. There was some mismatched furniture here and there in the halls, and a few rooms had filing cabinets, but pretty much everything was empty and decayed. Just an abandoned building, he supposed. He did find a sink, but turning it on revealed the water to be foul and discolored. He grimaced and moved along.

There was nothing in the next few rooms but more filing cabinets and moldering papers, a couple of desks, an ancient, water-damaged painting, empty shelving, so on and so forth.

The room at the end of the hall looked like it might have been an artsy living room sort of thing at one point, or maybe a study, with multiple paintings on the wall, a big, ornate clock, and a huge, old-fashioned typewriter on a desk near the door. Nothing they could use, though. He checked a few drawers, found nothing, and pushed open the double doors on the far side of the room.

He had no idea what this room was supposed to be, but Leon had a bad feeling about it. Windows lined the upper walls on the right side of the room, allowing dirty grey light to stream in. It caught on all the dust in the air, making everything a little hazy. It was just a big open space with a short set of stairs leading up to an altar. There was one thing of interest to him, though – a large green blanket was draped over an alcove at the back, perhaps meant to be a backdrop for whoever was standing in front of the altar.

He imagined this was maybe a makeshift church for the cult, but blasphemy wasn't something he was worried about. He made for the blanket.

He froze at the foot of the stairs as a door off to the left side of the altar swung open. He drew his gun and prepared for Ganados, but instead…

He stepped back, putting an arm out to shield Ashley and Aurelleah as Saddler walked in, stepping over to the altar and inspecting it. He looked as Leon had seen him last time, decked out in his fancy purple robes and gold adornments, grey-brown hair slicked back, weird staff pulsing in his hand.

He looked down on them with a look of perfect self-assurance. "I can feel them growing ever so strongly inside you," he said smoothly, and the hair rose on the back of Leon's neck as that staff's rhythmic pulsing stuttered and jumped up, as if in excitement.

He stepped forward, hackles rising. He was just about fed up with this guy, and if he needed to put him down here and now, so be it. Save them some trouble in the long-run.

"Saddler!" He yelled in challenge. As he did, he ran a quick mental checklist of all his weaponry. He still had a couple dozen magnum rounds left, his new shotgun was fully loaded and ready to go, and he was even grand on handgun ammo. Oh, yeah – he was ready for this.

He glanced back to the girls. "Head on back. I'll take care of this guy."

He didn't wait for their response. He narrowed his eyes at his opponent, tucked his chin in, and started towards him as he reached back to draw his magnum—

Saddler merely lifted a hand, and agony erupted in Leon's chest, sending him skidding to a halt on his knees.

He gasped as images of the Plaga, drug-numbed but vital in his chest, flooded his consciousness. He clutched a hand to his heart and clenched his teeth.

He didn't even realize he was making a noise until he had to stop for a breath. He heard Ashley and Aurelleah running, not away, but towards him to help, perhaps alarmed by his rough groans of pain. He wanted to tell them to get out of here, but he was unable to make a single coherent sound.

Saddler chuckled as he stepped forward, hand still outstretched, and the pain redoubled. It was nearly unbearable now, and it was all he could do to keep from screaming.

The staff in Saddler's hand had unfurled several small tentacles, which were waving around energetically, if not agitatedly. The bastard was grinning now, and said, "Perhaps you can resist, but you cannot disobey."

Leon toppled over onto his side and watched as Ashley and Aurelleah both winced. They stopped in their tracks, and he couldn't do a damn thing as Saddler's influence washed over them, followed quickly by his words.

"Now…come to me, Ashley, Aurelleah," he drawled hypnotically, and Leon knew there would be no disobeying.

Ashley let out one hitching gasp, and then her head dropped to her chest, eyes closing. When she looked up a moment later, her eyes were crimson, and Leon saw no fight left in her. She looked to Saddler as calmly as she normally looked to him, and began walking implacably towards the man.

But Aurelleah did not.

Aurelleah stood back, breathing a little heavily but otherwise unaffected. "Ashley," she said, clutching her chest. She seemed to be only mildly pained by Saddler's command, and not at all compelled by it. "Ashley, stop."

Saddler frowned as Ashley's movements faltered. She paused, turning to look back at her sister, and Leon thought desperately, That's it – fight it, Ashley. I know you can fight it. Come on…

But another push from Saddler was enough to tear her away. She turned back to him and took a place by his side, only a slight tautness of the jaw left to indicate that any part of her decried what she was doing as wrong.

Saddler took her hand and lifted it in an almost gentlemanly manner, but he wasn't paying attention to her any longer. His gaze was fixed coldly on Aurelleah.

He tilted his staff towards her, and Leon couldn't quite stop a wretch of agony as that vicious will pulsed through the room once more. Saddler was glaring at her now, eye twitching in concentration as he willed her Plaga to obey him…and failed.

It must have been the medication. She'd taken more of it than Ashley had, after all. Besides that, she'd shown serious ability to buck the Plaga's influence up until now. These two things combined were keeping her safe.

Saddler's eyes widened, an almost shocked expression taking over his face as Aurelleah stood defiant before him. "No, you…how…?"

Elleah stepped forward, pulling out her slingshot and saying, "Let my sister go."

Saddler stared at her for another moment, then his features hardened. Shock turned into fury. "You," he said, contempt lacing the word. "You think you know what devotion is? You think you know what power is? You think you know what God is?" His laughter echoed through the room, bitter and cruel. "Little girl, you know nothing…and I will not give you the time to learn."

He took a deep breath and raised his staff, eyes narrowing and sliding up into his skull until only the whites showed. Leon felt the hold on him loosening, and he forced himself at last to his feet.

"Saddler," he gasped as the Plaga in his chest paused in its assault. "I'm not gonna let you—"

The staff came down, and whatever sentiment had been going through Leon's head was washed clean aside as wrath washed over the room.

He felt revulsion – perfect, utter contempt – well up inside him like bile. Sickening anger, the kind that slithered around in the base of your skull when you were absolutely infuriated, took root in him like it hadn't since his teenage years. Black, strange, foreign hatred blanketed his mind, and he turned upon its target.

Saddler walked out of the room leading Ashley by the hand. "Enjoy what remains of your life, girl. Your God will die with you, and this world will know a new master. Farewell."

He departed, but Leon couldn't be bothered caring. All he cared about was the monster in front of him.

She was staring at him with wide, sorry eyes. She was filthy, ragged, her clothes torn and her hair a matted mess. Repugnant.

She stepped towards him, ersatz concern all over her pale, dirt-streaked face. He wasn't buying it. He bared his teeth in a snarl and reached for his knife. He'd dropped his gun, and—

Don't shoot, stop, drop the knife, back off, that's not your enemy…

—that wasn't good. She had a slingshot, and he knew how deadly she was with that thing. He took a quick step forward, angling the knife up towards her jugular as he raised a shaky arm. He needed to get her before she fired. He needed to—

Stop, get Ashley, he took her…

—put this monster down before it hurt anyone else, before it was allowed to grow up and—

THAT'S NOT A MONSTER THAT'S AURELLEAH DAMN IT NOW STOP!

He gasped as a knot of tension in his chest released, and his head positively throbbed as two conflicting personalities slammed into each other like a pair of mountain goats butting heads. Thankfully the one that had been in charge for the last few seconds twisted and buckled, and his emotional floodgates opened up, allowing the artificial anger Saddler had pumped into him to rush back out.

He stood there, hunched over, trembling and feeling sick. Horribly sick. Had he been about to…attack Aurelleah?

He noted the way he was gripping his knife, and realized that that's exactly what he'd almost done. He'd been half a second away from plunging that thing into her neck, and if he'd put up any less of a fight to that impulse…she'd be dead. Dead or dying. Bleeding out on the floor.

He slid the knife into its sheath and backed away from her. "I…I'm sorry," he gulped.

As soon as the knife was gone, she ran up to him and wrapped an arm around him, helping him keep his feet. A tiny remnant sliver of Saddler's influence shot through him – weak, ugly, disgusting monster, kill it – then it was gone.

"Are you okay?" She asked quietly.

He shook his head. Nothing about this was okay.

"That's alright," she said. Her voice was quiet, subdued…but not angry, or scared, or any of the things she had a right to be. "Let's get back to Luis, okay? We'll take a breather, then we'll go get my sister again. We've done it twice, we can do it as many times as it takes. It'll stick eventually. 'Kay?

"Kay," he grunted. He felt tired, wobbly on his feet. He despised himself for that – he had no right, not a damn one, to be weak when the girls needed him. Ashley needed him now more than ever; she was finally in Saddler's hands. And Aurelleah?

I was going to kill her.

He stumbled, and she puffed softly as her stance adjusted to support his considerable weight. He pulled himself together and stood up a little straighter. "I'm sorry," he said again.

"It's okay," she said. No fanfare, no resentment. Just, 'it's okay'.

It wasn't okay, though. "I let him take your sister."

"I could feel what he was doing to you. You couldn't have fought that. You have nothing to apologize for."

They made it back to the garage. "I almost attacked you."

She helped him over to the RTV, where he was finally able to sit down. "That was Saddler, too. I felt him send that order out. I think just about every living thing on the island got a dose of that – and you were right next to him when he did it. Of course it affected you as much as it did. Again, nothing to be sorry for."

He shook his head, but stopped arguing. Self-pity wasn't his style…even if his personal opinion of himself was pretty much shit-city right about then.

He wanted to get right back up and go after Saddler, but if he did that, he was going to get himself killed, and Aurelleah with him. His mental defenses were shot, he was having trouble focusing, he was still feeling shaky from the pain, and it was probably about time they had another snack. They didn't have a lot of food left, but they had enough to get them by until they could find more.

Elleah stood up and looked to the door. She turned to Leon and said, "I'll be right back. Half a sec, promise."

He didn't object. If she needed a moment of privacy for whatever reason, she could have it.

He closed his eyes and laid back on the hard metal bed of the RTV. When he got back, he was going to shower, eat his weight in steak and baked potatoes, strip down to absolutely nothing, curl up in his bed and go to sleep for a week. Or until his superiors called him demanding his report. This was going to be a hell of a long one, and Benford would want to hear every word of it.

Aurelleah came back a minute later, and he saw that she had the blanket from behind the altar. She'd also grabbed the gun he'd dropped. His magnum.

"You shouldn't have gone back for those," he said flatly, too tired to scold.

She shrugged. "We needed the blanket, and you need your gun."

She inspected the firearm curiously and cautiously for a moment before setting it on the edge of the RTV bed. Then, she tossed the blanket over him before he could object. He frowned and sat up, ready to insist that either she or Luis use it, but she'd already gone back over to Luis, tugged the tarps off of him, curled up against him, and pulled a tarp back over them both.

Leon hesitated, but finally just relaxed. He needed the warmth, too, and she and Luis could share theirs.

He started piecing his thoughts, which had been slightly hazy and disjointed, together. He began focusing on the major problems – Ashley, water, food, location – and working out how to tackle them one at a time, starting with the easiest.

Location, where they needed to go; just wait for Luis to wake up and tell them. If Luis didn't wake up, follow after Saddler. If they lost Saddler, go west, towards the machine. Food, water – again, wait for Luis. Lacking Luis, keep an eye out for sinks and rations along the way. Ashley…

Well, that song and dance hadn't changed. Track her down, get her back, take her to the machine. Simple. Not easy, but simple.

But to start all of this, he needed Luis. But Luis needed time to recover.

For that matter, so did he.

He wasn't going to let himself fall asleep. He just needed a few minutes to recoup. Ten, fifteen tops. He adjusted himself in the bed, curled up with an arm under his head, and closed his eyes.

Hand on his foot, shaking him. His eyes shot open, and he realized with a sickening swoop of alarm that he'd allowed himself to fall asleep.

"Leon? There are people in the building."

Elleah. He sat up, grabbed his Butterfly from where she'd set it earlier, and said, "How long was I out?"

She shrugged. "I'm not sure. Maybe an hour. I stayed awake."

Damn it. He knew how tired she was, but she'd stayed awake anyways to keep them all safe while he caught a few Z's. That was another hit to his self-respect.

Well, no time to worry about it now. He heard what Elleah had, footsteps coming down the hall. He'd need to take care of that. He swapped his magnum for the Red. No need to waste good ammo on these guys. Pearls before swine, and all.

He pulled off his case, opened it up, and grabbed those smelling salts. He handed them to her and said, "We can't give Luis any more recovery time. Wake him up. I'll deal with the bad guys."

Elleah nodded and took the vial, going back over to their sleeping friend. Meanwhile, he went over to the door to listen. It sounded like there were at least half a dozen guys creeping down the hallway, opening doors one by one.

This door opened outward. He decided to get the drop on at least one of them, and waited for them to approach.

The knob turned, and as soon as the door started to open, he struck. He kicked out with as much force as he could muster, and the door slammed into the Ganado on the other side, sending them reeling away with a high, bestial snarl. He rocketed through on the heels of his attack, slashing the stunned soldier's jugular before he could regain his senses, and turned to the rest of the forces in the hall.

There was a crossbowman at the end raising his weapon, so Leon decided cover would be best. To that effect, he slipped behind the nearest Ganado coming at him, shooting him once in the head and side-kicking him back. He followed up, twisting the guy around and propelling him down the hallway towards the next enemy. All the while the crossbow Ganado was trying to get a shot, but was unable to with his ally in the way.

Leon kept pushing, shooting enemies over his meatshield's shoulder as he went, until he reached the ranged opponent. The guy finally took a shot, but the bolt missed and sank into the Ganado's eye.

"Gotta watch out for friendly-fire," Leon advised as his cover jerked in his grip. Leon kicked him away again, sending him crashing into the crossbowman. They went down easily enough after that, and he turned back to the garage.

The door open and Luis stumbled through, clutching his head in one hand and his stomach in the other. Elleah was right behind him, a hand on his back.

They walked over and Leon said, "Hey, man. How ya feeling?"

Luis groaned as Elleah stroked his back comfortingly. "Hungover."

Leon grinned crookedly. "Yeah, getting hit by a giant mutant wolf and then woken up with smelling salts will do that to you. Think you're ready to move?"

He rubbed his temples, grabbed his canteen, took his last, small swig of water, and said, "Ay, ay ay. No, but I guess we'd better move anyway. Where's Ashley?"

Leon's grin dropped away. "Saddler took her."

Luis's gaze, which had been a bit hazy, sharpened. "Oh, no. That's not good. She needed to stay on that medication. Leon, we've gotta get her back and to that machine. Now."

Leon jerked a thumb down the hall. "You don't need to tell me twice. Saddler took her that way. Think you can point us in the right direction?"

Luis nodded, but before continuing he pulled out the pill bottle. It was about half empty. Hopefully it would last until they got to the machine.

He handed them each their doses. When they both tossed them down dry, he frowned. "Out of water?"

Leon nodded. Elleah's throat was still working at her half-dose, which probably meant she was pretty parched. They really needed to hydrate.

She got it down, and they took off. "Many of the water mains on the island have been contaminated by the various waste products and tissue samples of our research," Luis explained as they headed towards the altar room. "But several of them are still good. They need to have good lines here and there around the island for the Dominant Plaga wielders, after all. The labs all used to have working lines because we needed clean water for research, but the line in the last lab busted a couple months back and they never bothered to fix it. It was one of the reasons I was in the castle when all this started – the castle always has clean water. I took up in one of the lower labs there."

They pushed open the door Saddler had gone through. Leon seriously resented himself for his short nap. He should have woken Luis up immediately and gone after Ashley. He didn't know why he'd let himself lie down like that.

Because you needed to. You can only go so long without any rest.

The next room was dark and dingy, filled with heavy pipes, and had a set of stairs going down to a lower level. Great, back underground.

As they started down, Leon asked, "Do you know where we are, by the way?"

Luis shrugged. "Doesn't matter too much. Most of the underground facilities are connected to some degree, especially here, near the middle of the island. I know which direction we're heading, so that'll be enough for now. Hold on…"

He was inspecting one of the lower pipes. He snapped his fingers, pulled out his pistol, placed it against the side of the pipe, and said, "Watch out for a ricochet."

He and Elleah both backed off, ducking behind some other piping, and Luis fired. The bullet did not ricochet, and water shot out of the pipe, spraying Luis right in the face. Clean water.

Leon had the lid off his canteen and was refilling it in a heartbeat. He filled it up about halfway and stepped back to let Elleah do the same while he drank. They all refilled, drank as much as they could, then refilled again.

Leon turned to the next door and pushed it open – and threw himself back as a Ganado in a crazy gasmask with bulging green eyes snapped a cattle prod on and lunged at him.

He doubled over, sucking in his gut as the ambusher tried to catch him in it, the weapon sparking a couple inches from his abdomen. Luis swore and pulled out his pistol, popping the guy in the head, but the shot was partially negated by the helmet.

Still, it gave Leon the space to back off and pull his own gun, and together they put the Ganado down. The cattle prod shut off as its operator fell back with a head full of lead.

A cry of alarm sounded down the next hall, which was lit by bright orange lights. Leon heard the click of a crossbow and, not knowing where it was coming from, backed behind cover. He poked his head out and jerked it back as a fiery bolt shot by, and in its wake he leaned out again to return fire.

He got the shooter, but three more foot soldiers were advancing as well. That was fine. None of them had cattle prods.

Elleah had pulled out her slingshot. As soon as the first guy came around the corner she fired at him, staggering him as the next two arrived. Leon pulled out his shotgun and prepared to be rushed, but as soon as the three spotted Aurelleah, they all froze.

He could see the change come over them. Their expressions went from doped aggression to real fury, twisting up into downright ugly shapes. They had eyes only for her, and they raised their weapons and began screaming as they charged.

"OS VOY A ROMPER EN PEDAZOS!"

"TE VOY A MATAR!"

"COJELA!"

Leon blasted them and they were sent reeling, and he did not allow them to regain their footing. Their reaction to Aurelleah was alarming, and he wasn't taking any chances. He pumped them full of buckshot, only swapping to his knife to finish them when they were completely immobile. He also spared a couple shots to finish off the crossbowman.

Luis had tugged Elleah back and stepped in front of her, pistol out. His eyes were wide, and when the fervor had calmed he asked, "What was that?"

Leon began checking and reloading his shotgun. As he did he said, "Earlier, Saddler tried to control the girls with that staff of his. Ashley he was able to get, she walked right over to him. But Elleah was almost completely unaffected. That pissed him off. He sent out some kind of…I don't know, super-signal with his staff, ordering her death. I'm pretty sure it went out to the whole island."

Luis still looked confused. "They already had orders to kill her, didn't they?"

Leon looked away. "This was different. It wasn't just an order. It was…hatred. It was pure hatred, and he instilled it in every Plaga in the area. It even hit me." He paused before admitting, "Right after it went off, I tried to attack Aurelleah. It only lasted for a few seconds, but in those few seconds, it was like I didn't even recognize her."

Luis looked disturbed by this. "That's not good," he said worriedly. "But I don't understand why Saddler would be so furious—"

Bzzzzzt—

"Ack!"

They both whirled around to see that the first attacker, the one in the gasmask, hadn't been quite as dead as they'd thought. Elleah hadn't been paying attention, and had stepped within a few feet of him. It looked like he'd flicked his cattle prod back on and managed to brush her ankle.

Leon turned and pumped four more rounds into his head, reducing it to a bloody pulp under the mask as Luis grabbed Elleah, who had jerked violently and pitched over to the side. He grabbed her before she hit her head, and lowered her to the floor, where she lay staring sightlessly ahead, body shuddering from the stunning force of the electrical attack.

"Shit," Luis said. "Leon, pass me that picana."

He actually knew that word. It was Spanish for cattle prod, though it typically referred to a torture device designed to deliver low-current, high-voltage shock to the victim that would cause immense pain without doing much damage. He grabbed the prod, taking care not to touch the business end. It wasn't on anymore, but it would still be hot.

Luis took it, inspected it, then winced. "She'll be okay, but this thing isn't designed for pain. It's designed for damage. It looks like she was spared the worst of it, but she'll need a few minutes to recover. Think you can move ahead, clear the way?"

Leon knelt beside Elleah, who was blinking confusedly and looking around. She stared blankly at him for a few seconds, still stunned. Yeah, she was recovering, but she'd need a minute.

He cursed himself for letting that happen. That had to have been agonizing. But they did need to get going, and he wouldn't have a problem clearing out a few more rooms, he was sure. "Yeah, sure thing. See you up ahead."

Luis nodded, then his focus returned to his patient, lifting her wrist and placing two fingers on the pulse.

Leon went on ahead. He figured if there were any crossroads he'd keep heading west and leave a mark for Luis so he'd know where to go. But the next hall was an empty one-way, as was the next, and the next.

He came out into a larger room, but it was walled off with chain link. There was an elevator here, though, leading up to a large platform about twenty feet up. It looked to be the only way to progress without scaling the fencing, so he took it.

As he stepped off the lift and onto the platform, he tensed. The hair went up on the back of his neck, and he reached up to pull out his knife. There was nothing on the platform, nor any catwalks or vantage points an enemy force could use for an ambush, but he still felt something coming.

He whirled around, knife out, rear arm coming up in a defensive posture…but there was nothing there.

Clang!

He looked up and around as a form flew through the air overhead, having propelled itself off a pipe snaking across the ceiling. As it came down at him, he was blinded by a bright sheen of silver shooting past his eyes, and he threw himself back into a rearward shoulder-roll.

The attack missed, but it had been close, and Leon couldn't help a sickening swoop in the pit of his stomach. The only reason he was alive was that the pipe his attacker had swung off of had been loose. If it had been tightly installed, and hadn't made a noise, he'd have had a knife buried up to the hilt in his back, and the fight would already have been over.

He came up, and as he did so he realized the attack hadn't completely missed. He felt something warm dripping down his face, and wiping his cheek with the back of his hand left a small smear of red. He'd been nicked.

His would-be assassin stood up, having dropped to his knees to brace himself after the failed blow. As he straightened out, face coming up into the dreary sunlight that dappled the room as a result of a gridded skylight in the roof, recognition hit Leon like a slap to the face…or the cold cut of a knife.

"Been a long time, comrade," the man said, and all Leon could say in response was his name.

"Krauser," he breathed.

Krauser stood on a piece of heavy machinery overlooking the room, listening as he heard gunshots going off in the distance. Saddler had run into him a short while before, pointing him in Leon's direction, and now his old comrade was approaching.

The doctor would likely be along for the ride, but it couldn't be helped. A one-on-one confrontation would have been preferable, but it wasn't in the cards. Nevermind. He'd make do with what he had.

He intended this first fight to be the baseline – no help from his Plaga, just his own human abilities. He thought a knife-fight would be the best way of testing himself against his old ally. He'd aim for a crippling blow to start. Knowing Leon, he probably wouldn't land it, but still…

The door to the room opened and a moment later the elevator activated. He watched it come up, and to his surprise he saw Leon step off alone. Looked like fate was being generous today. Or maybe it was just in the mood for a good show.

He was in shadow where he was, out of Leon's sight, but as he stood up and prepared for his attack, he saw a change in Leon's body language. Previously relaxed, the man was now on-guard, hand coming up to unsheathe his blade, and Krauser pulled out his own. It was a long one, almost as long as his forearm, and if he managed to land a direct hit on Leon, it would finish things up nicely.

Leon turned suddenly around, and Krauser grinned. He'd misperceived where the danger was coming from, and was now facing almost directly away. Maybe a killing blow right out the gates wouldn't be out of the question after all.

He leapt from his hiding place, using a series of ceiling pipes to monkey-bar over to his old ally. He flung himself silently across two, but on the third one…

Clang!

Loose. He wavered a bit on the offswing, but recovered easily, bringing the knife down towards Leon's neck. But his old friend had heard the pipe and turned, throwing himself out of the way as he saw death descending upon him.

Krauser thought he'd missed, but when Leon came up after rolling away, there was a smear of red on his cheek. Krauser checked the blade – sure enough, a small, crimson rivulet adorned the edge. First blood.

As Leon took him in, shock appearing on his features like even a near-death experience couldn't bring out, Krauser said, "Been a long time, comrade."

"Krauser."

Krauser's lip twitched up in a smile. He'd been waiting for this for days now – perhaps longer – and as the blood started pumping, it occurred to him that he was really going to enjoy this.

But, as much as he was raring to skip to the fight, he supposed Leon deserved a bit of explanation. He'd made it so far, after all. "I died in the crash two years ago, is that what they told you?" Krauser asked.

Indeed, in order to search for Wesker without having to worry about his old handlers tracking him down, he'd staged his own death in a plane crash. It hadn't been hard to make it look like suicide, and crashing into the ocean had prevented them from finding a body…or lack thereof.

But Leon wasn't interested in that. They began circling each other, and always the mission man, he stated, "You're the one who kidnapped Ashley."

Krauser smirked. "You catch on quick," he said, twirling his knife. "As expected. After all, you and I both know where we come from."

He'd turned away to lower Leon's guard, knowing that his comrade's honor would keep him from going for a cheap shot; but he turned now, throwing himself at Leon in a fast, powerful side-slash. Leon dodged and reciprocated, and he was every bit as quick as Krauser remembered. He managed two strikes, a side-slash and a front jab for the throat in the same space of time that Krauser had thrown one blow. He curved out of the way of the slash and leaned back from the thrust, and when they parted again, they both sank into traditional fighting positions, knives out. Leon's guard wouldn't go down again for the rest of the fight.

"What do you want?" Leon asked. He sounded riled.

Krauser just scoffed. What did he want? He wanted to know how he held up to his old comrade.

He sidestepped forward again. Another side-slash, followed by an upward slash, but Leon dodged both, this time not following up. He was looking at Krauser, eyes narrowed, waiting for an answer, and he supposed the hound deserved to be thrown some kind of bone.

"The sample Saddler developed, that's all," he said, and went in for yet another strike.

This one Leon parried. He noticed his old friend was already breathing heavily, and lamented. The man had worn himself out on Saddler's lackeys. This fight would be over much too soon.

Well, what happened, happened. Krauser would enjoy himself while he had the chance.

Leon didn't look to be enjoying himself, though. "Leave the girls out of this!"

Of course. Why didn't it surprise him that the Grahams were his first priority? Always the ladies' man, Leon. "Oh, I needed them to buy Saddler's trust in me. Like you," he said, straightening out. "I'm American."

He'd circled around to a barrel lying on the ground. He stepped forward now, hooking his foot under it, and kicked, sending it flying at Leon's head.

Leon dodged it, but Krauser followed up in the wake of the distraction, aiming to cut right between the ribs and flay open his heart. That would give him just enough time for goodbyes before the man bled out.

But it wasn't to be. Leon brought his knife up in a desperate parry, and sparks flew as their blades kissed again. They'd probably need to be sharpened after this.

That last rush had been too much, and they'd been too near the edge. They both went over, Leon backwards, Krauser forwards. Leon tucked, tightening his center of gravity and allowing himself to roll in midair until he was oriented heads-up. Krauser didn't bother, instead landing on his hands and flipping himself over once grounded. They landed facing away from each other, and both snapped their heads around to take the other in before standing.

When Leon rose, Krauser was surprised to see real anger on his face. His upper teeth were bared in a snarl as he said, "You got them involved just for that?"

He shot towards Krauser, knife up, and Krauser felt a sliver of satisfaction…as well as a brief flash of startlement at the suddenness and ferocity of the attack.

The knife came up and Krauser parried. He expected Leon to back off after a quick jab or two, but he was surprised to find a flurry of blows forthcoming. One, two, three, four, five, and then—

Krauser didn't see Leon swap his knife to his other hand. When he turned around, he brought his own blade up for a rightward parry, but the slash came from the left.

He went to whirl away, but didn't quite make it. The tip of Leon's blade skated across his torso with no resistance, bringing with it a pure, singing pain. Krauser grunted, glancing down at the wound. It was a seven-inch diagonal laceration, already bleeding heavy.

His attention was diverted as he felt his Plaga take notice of the injury. He ran forward anyways, intent on vengeance for the blow, but a quick bit of footwork from Leon left them face-to-face, hands to wrists, glaring into each other's eyes, and Krauser suddenly realized that he hated the man in front of him.

He whirled around faster than Leon could process, gaining the man's back and kicking out against his spine to send him flying. He noticed with some dissatisfaction that his Plaga had briefly augmented his speed, and he was forced to spare yet more concentration to reign it in.

"All for Umbrella's sake," he growled as he stepped towards his partially stunned opponent. Leon's knife had skittered off several feet behind him, leaving the man disarmed.

The pain on Leon's face morphed into shocked understanding. "Umbrella?"

Krauser shoved his Plaga's instincts aside and forced himself to calm. He'd gotten himself too worked up. It was time to finish this.

"Almost let it slip," he murmured, looking down at the bruised, exhausted man before him. Yeah, this fight was over. "Enough talk. Die, comrade."

He leapt into the air to descend on Leon with the added force of gravity, and fully expected the man's strength to fail before the assault. But Leon caught his wrists at just the right angle, halting the blade a bare inch or two from his chest.

Krauser knelt over him, pressing down, and he felt his Plaga strain and flex longingly as his muscles were put to the test. It wanted to help, but he would not allow it to interfere. Oh, no, Leon hadn't earned that. He'd crumpled so damned easily.

This is the man they put their trust in? This is the man they chose over ME? Pathetic, he thought, seething with cold, bitter fury. I'll show them how wrong they were.

He pushed down harder, but Leon wasn't giving up. His arms were being taxed to their absolute limit, and Krauser could feel the tremors start up in them as they approached the point of failure. He hoped they gave out suddenly. He wanted to feel the quick, satisfying sensation of the knife sliding in through skin, muscle, and cartilage. He wanted to feel the beat of the man's heart through the blade in the moments before it gave out. He wanted to feel Leon die.

He pushed down, impatient for the struggle's culmination. The knife sank an inch lower, the tip reaching skin and piercing through it—

CRACK—

TWANG!

The knife flew out of his hand as a bullet sparked against the blade, sending it flying several feet away to lodge in the flooring. Krauser reared back. Leon snaked a leg up and kicked, separating them and ending the fight.

Leon rolled back away and stood, as did Krauser, and they both looked up to see none other than Ada Wong, gun out and pointed at him.

You snake. You gilded, treacherous snake.

"Ada!" Leon yelled. There was entirely too much recognition in his voice. The two knew each other.

"Well if it isn't the bitch in the red dress," Krauser sneered.

She smiled genially down at him, unperturbed by his comment. "Looks like we have the upper hand here," she said. Her laser sight was trained on his forehead.

He didn't bother ducking or weaving. Her threats didn't mean a damn thing to him. She honestly believed that he couldn't kill them both right now if he were so inclined? She had no idea what was in store for her.

And as for her allying herself with Leon, oh man was she in for a world of hurt…especially when Wesker found out. Krauser wasn't typically much of a tattle-tale, but this was something the boss would definitely like to know about.

Krauser chuckled. Suddenly, his anger was gone, replaced by amusement. There was so much in store for them – for Leon – that the idea that they thought they stood even the ghost of a chance against him was more than funny. It was downright hysterical.

His arena. His arsenal. His Plaga. The next time they met, he wouldn't hold back. He wouldn't hold back anything.

He touched on the beast inside of him, and it surfaced at last, lazily lending its strength to him as he crouched…then sent himself shooting up into a blinding ascent, twenty feet into the air in a perfect backflip that landed him on a catwalk leading out of the building. Let them make what they would of that.

Leon ran over, staring up at him with wide eyes, and Krauser decided to spare a few parting words.

"You may be able to prolong your life," he said, unimpressed by the enemies looking up at him from below. "But it's not like you can escape your inevitable death, is it?"

He didn't wait for a response. He had things to do. He turned and stalked away, heading for the exit.

There were a handful of places Leon could go that would allow him to bypass the Ruins, and their final confrontation. Krauser intended to make sure those routes wouldn't be an option. Some of them he wouldn't need to block off – Sera undoubtedly knew enough about the island to keep them from wandering into the U3 cavern, for instance – but others would need to be closed down. He'd spread Saddler's Ganados out to cut off alternative paths, and make sure the path of least resistance led Leon straight into his trap.

With luck the doctor would be killed at some point along the way, but if he wasn't, Krauser would be sure to take him out before the finale with Leon. He'd render Sera unconscious if possible, so he could relay Wesker's offer to him after Leon was dead, but honestly, that was a formality. The man was far too emotional. One of those passionate types. He'd never betray Leon's memory.

Although, given the orders to bring Aurelleah in alive, he might just agree to tag along if only for the possibility of protecting her. If that was the case, the man would have to be watched closely during transport.

Krauser stepped outside and leapt up to the very top of the building to begin scanning the area and formulating a plan. He knew there were at least half a dozen routes he'd need to block off, some of them fairly quickly, but he'd have to do this strategically. He spent a few minutes contemplating precisely how to proceed, and when he looked the finalized plan over in his mind, he felt confident that he'd be able to get Leon to do exactly what he needed him to.

There was another issue he would want to address if he had the time: The order Saddler had sent out to the Ganados across the island. Krauser had felt the man's hatred for the girl ripple over him, and he knew that every Plaga on the island had been instilled with a drive to wipe her off the face of the Earth.

Unacceptable. He didn't want her dying to some filthy bipedal livestock. The thought of it made his blood boil. Oh, no, he intended to be the one to catch her. Then, when he was finished with her, he'd deliver her to Wesker.

His inner monologue tried to rear up in response to this, tried to force him to evaluate his intents and motivations, but he quashed it. It had become nothing but a distraction over the course of this campaign, and he had no more time for distractions. He didn't need it. All he needed was the Plaga.

He reached absentmindedly for his knife to start flipping it…but he hadn't retrieved it before departing, and now he was knifeless. Fuck all, that stung. He liked his knife.

He made a noise of irritation, but forced his mind back onto the task at hand. He needed to get to work with Saddler's forces. He'd reposition them where he needed them to funnel Leon to the Ruins, and wherever he went he'd be sure to undo Saddler's most inconvenient directive. He wanted the girl alive. He needed the girl alive. He'd get her alive.

He cheered marginally. Before he could do any of that, he had one other task to take care of – reporting Ada's outright treachery to Wesker. That would be a fun call. He pulled out his radio.

The device exploded in his hand with the sharp crack of gunfire, and he whipped around, incensed, to see Ada standing at the back edge of the building with a rifle in her hands.

Red hot anger pulsed through him as he saw her standing there, cocky and calm. Fuck all, that stung. That radio had been a special one. Wesker did not want to risk anyone finding him, so he'd constructed several state-of-the-art safeguards to keep any signals from entering or leaving his compound without his say-so. He had the means of transmitting anywhere on Earth, but inbound communication could only be achieved with a handful of very special devices.

That had been his, and Ada had the only other one. Krauser was now cut off.

He snarled as Ada lined up another shot. He threw himself to the side as the rifle thundered again, and the bullet missed him by a mile. He wasn't about to avenge himself on her now, not when he had so much work to do, but fuck all he wanted that woman DEAD.

He only spent a moment trying to calm himself, then gave up. He'd use his anger, let it motivate him. He was better at controlling his Plaga when he was worked up, anyways, and he had a lot of work to do with it.

You're not better at controlling your Plaga when you're emotional – it's better at controlling you.

He froze, eye twitching…then wiped that sentiment from his mind. He didn't need it. He didn't want it. All he wanted was to complete his mission, kill Leon and everyone aligned with him, and bury himself to the hilt in the girl who had evaded him for far too long. And what he needed to achieve these things wasn't an inner monologue, or reptile, or God-damned fucking conscience.

What he needed was power.

What he needed was the Plaga.

That was all.

That was all.

OoO

Ooooh, the Krauser fight! That one was a lot of fun to write. I was really going back and forth on whose perspective to use for it. I finally decided to use Krauser for this one and Leon for the final confrontation. Also fun to write.

Sorry about the late upload, but I got called in for a double shift yesterday. Really took it out of me. Made great tips, though. Anywho, I just wanted to wish everyone a happy Fourth of July! Or, to my readers in the UK, happy Treason Day! I think I'm gonna celebrate by uploading another chapter tomorrow night, so be sure to check back in! Thanks to my readers for the ongoing support and interest. God Bless, all!

Sincerely and Patriotically,

The Topaz Dragon