Resident Evil, characters, and properties still fail to be mine. They're Capcom's, they're used without permission, and this ain't getting me any richer.

Cutscenes mode continues; however, we're getting a little more in-depth.

3. Apart

"Leon! Help!"

He shook his head. Kid had a set of lungs on her. He pushed the door open. She turned, looking hopefully towards the door and jerking at her bonds. Only Salazar. Well, considering how many traps he had, she had to run into one. And this one didn't make her look too stupid. Some of his traps. . . say that one where the victim had to turn the light on and off three times. . . Crazy fucking smurf.

"Quiet down," he said. "You're gonna attract all sorts of things. You think the cultists are the only creatures down here?"

"What are you doing?" Big, hopeful eyes, like maybe this time he'd say "rescue you!"

No. He glanced at the door behind him. "Getting ready to do some backtracking."

"Wanna help me out?"

He watched without reply as she resumed working at the metal around her wrists, quietly this time. Much better. He stepped outside and yanked the door shut. All right. Luis Sera was undoubtedly here, but he knew his way around and could be anywhere. Finding Kennedy, though. . . he knew where the man was and where he was going. Piece of cake. He'd get ahead of Kennedy, pull an intercept on Sera, and get the sample.

He was barely four corridors away when he heard the soft sound of a door opening. Shit. He moved into the shadows fast. Best if he could just slip past whoever, or whatever, was there.

Nothing stirred. He swung into a small storage room, scanned it, moved into the next hallway. Someone was playing games. Kennedy couldn't have gotten here yet. Sera.

Or—

He moved quick as thought, finding the darkest shadow and lunging for it. She came out in a ribbon of movement, vaulting ahead of his knife point, and came up with empty hands.

"Red's a shitty color for this," he offered. "Really limits you."

"I'm not here to fight with you." Her gaze flicked over his arm dismissively.

"Really? Gotten hung up on something Kennedy missed? Need me to come bash it for you?"

"He's the problem." Before he could thank her for brightening his day and head off to intercept, she continued, "his parasite's growth is accelerating. Saddler will take him over."

Oh, Kennedy hadn't lost it yet. "Won't that be a pity." He already knew her point, but he also knew her history and he just couldn't resist. "But it's not like we need him."

She didn't even blink. "Don't be ridiculous. We could lose the sample, Sera, and our distraction all at once."

He abandoned the game with a shrug. "So you're here to make the reasonable suggestion. You want me to track down the sample while you babysit."

"Kennedy's keeping everyone's attention from the plagas." Another glance at his arm. And he knew, sure as he knew they were tied in the sample-collection game, that if Leon died, news of his plaga would be spread to all the wrong people. Wesker's ban or not.

"You want me to throw my game for your boytoy? You were sent to help in the first place."

"Can his plaga receive the treatments yours did?"

"Wohoa!" He cut off a laugh. Best not to really piss her off, but--"you want to love him despite his inner squid. Oh, that's priceless." He shook his head slowly in the face of her ice. "Mine's a special case. I doubt Saddler had many of them produced."

"You took pills to prevent it from taking over. I'll trade you the third sample for them." Dead serious. "We just need to delay the takeover until he can remove his plaga."

He thought fast. So long as Leon got the plaga out after modifying it, Saddler wouldn't have to know he'd interfered. "Give me the sample now." One delicate brow began to lift. "Look, Wong, I'm a mercenary. You give me the job, you pay me."

She balked. He'd never thought he'd get to see that, Ada rattled. "How soon will you treat him?"

"Always carry them on me." He extended one hand, pulling the pill bottle from his pocket and rattling it in the other. She slapped the vial into his hand. He grinned. "Pleasure dealing with you. Have fun finding Sera first."

"Oh, I will." She offered a smug little smirk and vanished with a few parting gleams and flickers. Red really was a shitty color for this sort of thing.

4. Junction

So Kennedy had to go through the sewers. He knew those. He crossed over a recently made hidden passageway and found a grate overlooking a long, stone hallway. The bark of shotgun fire rolled off the walls again. Hmm. Maybe he should let Kennedy cool off a bit.

The agent passed under his vantage point a few moments later, limping slightly and testing his hand. He slowed, looking around, then checked the ceiling. The dim light caused his hair and skin to almost glow, making him look like a statue or something. It was. . . actually, that was kinda creepy. There was a long moment while the agent looked up, trying to see something through the dark and the distance. Then Kennedy moved to scope the corner, headed back the way he came. Krauser waited until he was around the corner and dropped, moving in close to the wall. "I'm right here."

"Krauser?" Kennedy came back, near the opposite wall, gawping. He recovered quickly. The shotgun stayed lowered but ready. "I heard you were-" and then a silence while he could almost hear the gears turning. Kennedy was often hard to read, but that look was pure suspicion.

"What, in that helicopter crash?" Throw some history out, get him thinking about the past a little and less about the situation. "Is that what they told you? But here I am, lucky for you. Pesky little butterfly told me you were in deep shit. How's the daddy thing working out for you?"

"What?" Yep, that was Kennedy being derailed from his train of thought. Probably just in time.

"Oh, you know. Saddler shows up, gives you a quick poke, next thing you know you're feeling something kicking. Not taking parenting classes, though, are you? Denying his emotional needs, planning to get rid of him. . . never pegged you for a deadbeat, Kennedy."

"You're not a liberal anymore?" Sharp edge to Kennedy's voice. And he was approaching at an angle, chin down a little and shoulders tense. Krauser watched carefully. He wasn't the best at shutting up at the right time, and had to get this right. "Thought it was the. . . parent's right to choose abortion."

"Yours hatched." Too jumpy with the tense discussion to stay put, so he started moving away a little from Kennedy's approach, circling. "It's what they call first-generation now. It's got some of its nerves hooked up with yours, but it's not big enough to reach your spine yet. Once it does, it'll run some feelers into your brain. Then it'll be second-generation, and Saddler will lead you off to this nifty machine he's got. Then Leon Scott Kennedy will no longer be the property of the U.S. government. And Ada'll cry into her wine."

Kennedy's face twisted with familiar anger, and his fingers tightened on his weapon. Krauser knew that one: a Kennedy close to flipping the fuck out. Try another angle. "'Course, if Sera could get his shit together for five minutes at a time, you'd have one fewer problem."

"Sera? He can't help me." Kennedy reversed direction, circling them the other way. And once again with the calculations. Kennedy's the loudest thinker he's ever met.

"Mm, he can't get it out, no. But he does these nifty adaptations on 'em. Got these pills that slows down their development, for one. Might be something you're into."

"So how do you know Sera?" Flash of uncertainty in his eyes, but none of it showed in his voice. It was actually getting to Krauser how well he could read him. Brought back memories, and he couldn't afford to remember friendships now.

"I know everything except where he is right now. Don't care about finding him. That's your little dream. Well, yours and Saddler's."

Kennedy's eyes narrowed just a little, and from the way the shotgun's muzzle began to lift, he was about to kick the Q&A session up a notch. Krauser brought one arm to shield his eyes as he slammed a flash grenade into the floor. He threw himself forward, knocking Kennedy straight into the wall and out of reach of his flying gun, trapping him there with his weight.

His knife blade broke the skin at Kennedy's neck just as he registered the steel point digging just below his xyphoid process. He froze. Kennedy froze.

"Saddler's gonna get off on us killing each other," he said, slow and careful.

"You're working for him. You kidnapped Ashley." Bite to Kennedy's words, and the knife rock-steady against his chest. Whoopsie. Fucked up this one.

"You don't know anything yet, Kennedy." Get him thinking. Get him unsure.

"I know you threw a helpless girl to the plagas—"

"Bullshit!" No, not good to get angry too. "I brought a rich and priveleged woman here, yeah—"

Flare of something close to hate. "Oh, this is about class, is it, comrade?" Nasty weight given to the last word.

He felt his hands clench and saw Leon's jaw tighten. He realized he was leaving bruises on the other man's arm and forced his fingers to relax a bit. Time to put this in perspective. "Leon, what's this village missing? What do you usually find in homes? Old men, yeah, got those. Young men, yep. Young women. What do villages usually get when they've got young men and young women together?"

He saw Kennedy get it, disdain and rage fading into pure horror.

"Yeah. Children. Children are small and fast. They hide, they see shit happen, and if they escape through the woods or get picked up on a road, they'll spill everything. What'd you think happened? Think they've got 'em stashed for a few years, guarding and feeding and excercising them until they're big enough to be hosts? Is Saddler the kind to waste time on that?"

"Aw, shi-" It's the softest exhalation, but then Kennedy's crunched a few more facts and the suspicion's back. "Wait, Krauser, I didn't find any small bodies. Lots of adult skulls and corpses, sure—"

"Yeah, the children just vanished without getting hurt. Nice world you're in there. You're saying you dug through the stashes of corpses? You checked the dumping grounds and the Novistador leftover piles? You—"

"They fed them to the plagas?" Horror to outrage in five seconds. Kennedy was flushing straight to his scalp. Shit. Shit shit shit. Too much information. Last thing he needed was a hero going off on him half-cocked.

"They feed lots of things to the plagas. I'm just guessing." He put aside what he'd seen.

The knife point tapped once against his chest. Having to let that go seemed to piss Leon off more. "So why bring Ashley here?"

Time for the mostly plausible, slightly true pre-decided illusions. "Whole village was sealed tight. Had some friends die trying to get in. Wanted to find out what happened, so I took the risk when they offered a job. You know what that was." Shit, that had sounded kinda rehearsed, hadn't it?

"So you know what's up. Why are you still—" One of the pennies Leon was flipping in his head dropped— "you're here working with Ada."

"With Wong?" He put as much disdain into it as he could, which was actually kinda easy. "Who works with her? I've got my own reasons. Anyway, with Ashley here there's a certain amount of chaos. Saddler's distracted. That's why you and Sera and me and Ensign Redskirt can all dance through the village whenever we please. Couldn't have done it a week and a half ago."

"Dammit." Kennedy's eyes flicked closed for just enough time for him to notice, without the time to cut his throat. Then he felt the man's body relax as he abandoned the "kill Jack" plan. A flicker of tension ran through him. Damn plaga must be twitchy. Kennedy tipped his face up, frowning. "Fine. Back off."

"Sure. But keep your head." He lifted himself up, away from the knife's point, and pulled his blade from Kennedy's bloody skin. He rubbed the drying film of red from his knife and sheathed it as Kennedy headed for his dropped weapon. "Found something you might be able to use."

"Uh, what?" Kennedy glanced at his hands, scooping up the shotgun fast. Krauser felt himself twitch with the urge to dodge, rattled the pill bottle to cover it, and replied, "Sera's little project."

Leon's body language changed, a little, a shade more open as he started to hope. "Why are you helping me?"

"Don't really want Graham to stay here." It was answer enough.

Leon cautiously took the bottle and retreated outside lunging range. "I'll think about it." He kept his eyes locked on Krauser's as he popped the lid and passed two pills back to Jack's palm.

Krauser swallowed them and held up his empty hand: look, Ma, no poison. He'd thought he'd gotten over having to drop some things years ago, said his goodbyes and all, but Kennedy's expression was getting to him. He headed back the way Leon had come.