A/N: I'm just going to finish posting this little story quickly because, once the remake for 4 drops, I'll likely get wrapped up and won't remember to. As always, thank you for reading. I appreciate it more than anyone knows. For my few steadfast reviewers, I wouldn't be doing any of this without you. I value every one of you. As always, I don't own Resident Evil, and all characters are held entirely by Capcom.

The Long Dark

XXI.

Eskatos

Remote Alaskan Caves -Sanctuary

Something about doing a mission with Leon Kennedy meant you'd be kidnapped, thrown around, and left for dead - more than once.

Jill was floating in the ocean. The water was warm and whooshed nicely beside her ears and over her body as she relaxed. The sun on her skin kissed instead of burned. The peace was infinite - it stretched from sea to sky and left the bottomless blue above her the perfect complement to water that held the same color as Leon Kennedy's eyes.

The pretty green bikini fluttered in the gently lapping waves. Jill swirled on her back, gazing at the cloudless sky, and a dolphin passed beside her. Moved, she passed a hand over its rubbery side, and the hand she pulled back was slick with blood. Afraid, she lifted that scarlet-tinged skin into the jewel-like sun, trailing thick, dark, and the color of garnets down her white flesh.

The second her brain started turning to purple prose, Jill knew the dream was a lie.

She watched the blood drip from her hand to her elbow. In the water, the body of Rebecca Chambers became the dolphin. Jill made a small mewl of loss and reached for her, but the girl scientist sunk into the ink-dark water. Jill shouted. She swam. She reached, but her hands couldn't hold on. The blood bloomed beneath the waves and surrounded her, pink and frothy. It bubbled. It gurgled. Her hand brushed something solid, and Jill pulled it free into the light - Rebecca's hand, Rebecca's arm, Rebecca's elbow...and the ragged end of a severed arm.

Jill panicked, swimming for the shore, even as she knew - she knew- it was a dream.

She flailed in the water like she'd forgotten how to escape it. Carlos crouched on a rock like a mermaid beside her, musing, "...bitch can't even swim. Legs and arms, Valentine, it's easy."

She kicked off the rock he was on while he chuckled and called after her, "Where ya goin!? Ladies, love the accent!"

The tentacles burst free of the water when she scrambled on the sand. They waved, they reached, and Jill let out terrified ragged breaths as she evaded and tried to get to her feet. Chris lifted his gun on the shore and told her, "Don't run. You have to fight, Jill! Stop running!"

She shoved passed him and called, "You idiot! You'll die here!"

And he returned calmly, "I'm already dead. We all are."

"...no." She denied it even as she turned to help him, and the Nemesis lifted him to eye level. Chris didn't kick. He didn't become Brad, struggling and dying, terrified to the point he'd pissed himself before the end. Chris didn't fight back. He stared at the monster choking him...and he gave up. "No!"

The shout echoed over the beach as she ran. She tackled the Nemesis in the side, and it became Albert Wesker. The face changed; handsome now and horrible, somehow so much worse. She tackled him for all she was worth.

She took him with her as the glass shattered all around her, and they tumbled together through the roaring rain toward the river that waited below.

She fell. She was always falling. But she held on. She held on to that Nemesis even as she tumbled, even as she died.

The lightning crackled; it echoed like electricity inside of metal, striking and searing where it touched - turning the surface of everything to death. Wesker gripped her face, slid his hands down her back, and pressed her into his plummeting form, and he whispered in her ear, "Everything ends badly, Jill; otherwise, it would never end."

Jill thrust her knife into his sternum, angling for his heart, as she snarled, "...you first."

The blood was wet and sticky on her chest. She let go of his body as his eyes went from red to blue. "Jill!"

The voice above her was accompanied by a hand-thrown down, down, down, and she grasped it palm to palm. She dangled, Wesker hanging off her boots like a desperate disease she couldn't escape, and the face obscured by the rain had shaggy hair. Even as she held on, the voice commanded, "Hang onto me; I won't let go!"

She believed him. It radiated in the air like lightning. She warned, "You'll fall too!"

And he answered, "Not today."

Dangling off her legs, Wesker cooed, "It feels so much better to let go, Jill. Let go and be what you were meant to be."

Jill snarled, "What's that?"

"...mine."

The word echoed in the ugly sky. Jill shouted; she kicked uselessly, and the gun that appeared in her hand aimed down at his smiling face as she decided, "...go fuck yourself, Captain."

Saddler hung onto her boots as he returned, "...you first."

And Jack Krauser climbed up her body. His knife flashed, and Jill shouted, "No! Leon, run!"

But Leon said, "I don't let go, Jill. I won't let go."

She watched in horror as Krauser climbed up her body like she was a rope and declared, "You always were nothing but a stupid little bitch, Kennedy. Hanging onto nothing is what gets losers like you killed."

He thrust the knife at Leon's face as the former rookie quipped cheekily, "...you first."

They stabbed each other. Jill screamed. The blood burst into red rain. It was so hot on her face and hands it burned, and then she went numb. She was numb. She didn't even hurt as she fell, fast like a dart, and landed in the water. She struck the ice, and it hurt; she watched the warm blood begin to erode the burg that held her, and she couldn't move.

She couldn't move as it dissolved, and the world melted beneath her.

She came awake with hands pulling her into waiting arms. Jill panicked; a voice in her ear hissed, "Easy. Easy, cheesy, I got you."

Kevin.

She was curled back to his front as he walked them both to the side. His back slid along the ice wall, and Jill heard the sounds - the things in the dark. The things that waited, hungry, for them to give up. She went still, letting him move for them both. Her legs were numb.

Afraid, she assessed herself for injuries and decided it was just cold. The cold had seeped into her bones and left her slow and sluggish. Kevin's ponytail slid over her shoulder, joining her own as he moved, stealthy and surprising for a man so big.

Jill started to feel her fingers and toes again when he slid through a crack in the wall.

His hand slid off her mouth as they emerged into a chamber with a long rope bridge stretched over an endless drop. The water they'd waded through was running off the edge, dropping into oblivion, the echo of it loud in the ice. He set her on her feet, studied her to be sure she could stand, and put a gloved finger over his lips to signify silence.

Jill nodded, finding her balance. She felt along her sides and found her side arm still in its thigh holster. Quietly, she drew it, feeling more life return to her stiff limbs. Kevin jerked his head at the bridge, and she nodded again, falling into line behind him.

They crossed carefully, the rickety bridge shifting in the wind from the tunnels on the far walls. Where was Kat? Where was Leon? There was no answer or way to talk about it without risking exposure.

When they reached the far side, he stepped down and moved toward a door carved into the ice.

They studied the carvings together, Jill shivering as her body fought off hypothermia. It was a puzzle, which shouldn't have surprised her as her life was entirely about puzzles. There were pictures carved into the ice.

Softly, she breathed, "Stages of evolution?"

Kevin narrowed his eyes, looking at the crude drawings. She was right. It was dinosaurs. It was mankind. It was monkeys. He tilted his head and muttered, "What came first...the chicken or the egg?"

Jill's mouth twitched as she decided, "...I don't know enough evolution to do this shit."

"Me either, Pop Tart," Kevin trailed a hand over the wall, "but what choice do we have here?"

"None." Jill studied the tiles on the wall, "we gotta take a shot."

"You miss one hundred percent of the shots you don't take."

They shifted the dinosaurs into the first slot, and nothing happened. Nothing happened when they'd shifted in what they thought was the correct order. Kevin pursed his lips, "...this is what I get for sleeping through eighth-grade science."

Jill smirked, "I didn't even sleep; I cut class most of the time."

"You seem like a straight shooter to me, so I'm shocked to the core."

"I thought science was boring. I just wanted to have fun."

Kevin snorted, "Who's laughing now?"

Jill nodded. "You ain't wrong, brutha. You ain't wrong."

He studied the tiles, "We're missing something."

She scanned the wall and found the obscure tile in the corner. Her hand slid over it as she narrowed her eyes, "...is this an amoeba?"

Kevin crouched and pretended to rub water off non-existent glasses, "Is it? Looks like a plagas."

And just like that, she got the puzzle. With a shiver of fear, Jill shifted the tiles. She put the amoeba first and followed up with the rest as they'd had them before. The second she slid the last time in place, the door clicked. It shivered. Ice tumbled in flakes as it slid open.

Kevin arched his brows, "Pretty arrogant to consider themselves the first."

Jill shook her head, "Not if they're right...not if they were the amoebas."

"That's a horrifying thought."

"...I know."

Jill slid between the doors with Kevin behind her and asked, "Leon?"

Kevin blew out a breath, "The Predator back there sent him after you. Something about trials."

"...I didn't see him."

"Me either." Kevin paused and stated, "...Kat's either dead or one of them."

Jill paused and glanced at his face. He looked pale, tired, and scared, with no teasing, no humor. She laid a hand on his big arm. "It wasn't your fault."

Kevin gave her a sad look, "Yes, it was," he kept walking, "I panicked, left her, and saved myself...a coward at the core. My old man would be so happy to tell me he was right about me."

Jill followed him down the long hallway lit by blue torches. Softly, she denied, "We both know that's not true. George told me. You saved him twice. All of them, at least once. Whoever survived that night with you, they're all alive because of you."

Kevin rolled his eyes, "I didn't do a damn thing. George and Yoko made the Daylight. I just played human shield."

Jill snorted as they paused at a turn in the hallway. He cleared to ensure the next area was secure, and Jill said, "You fist-fought a goddamn tyrant."

Surprised, Kevin glanced at her. "Who told you that?"

"Yoko."

"She saw that?"

"Yep. It was on the security cameras at the university. She saw you run dry with your gun and surge to fight the thing hand to hand."

Kevin shook his head, "It wasn't quite that heroic. It charged me, and I was tired of running and just charged back."

"...yeah. That's your thing, huh? The guy who charges in."

"Me and Redfield," Kevin kept his gun up as they moved, paused, and added, "and Kennedy. Respectfully."

A door waited to one side. Jill eased it open with Kevin covering her as she ducked inside. The room was a dining hall, and it was long and wide. She froze the moment she passed through the doors because it was also familiar.

The Arklay Mansion had had the same one.

Jill froze. Kevin remarked, "Well, this is as tacky as booby tassels on a stripper."

And Jill whispered, "...Spencer was here."

Kevin glanced back at her as the fireplace across from them crackled. How in the hell did they have fire in a cave of ice? A mystery. And not the last one they'd find. He was damn sure of that.

"What?"

"Spencer," Jill was frozen by the door as the horror seeped into her, "Ozwell Spencer was here. How? Why?...wait..."

She hurried to the far door to the right of the fireplace and opened it slowly. Beyond was the hallway she'd fled through to try to save Richard. Her hand shook as she backed up, the gun lifting itself to aim into that dank darkness.

Kevin, voice calm, queried, "Jill?"

"...he modeled his mansion after this place. It's almost a carbon copy," She shook her head, feeling the birth of something horrible in her guts, "...was Spencer a host?"

Kevin snorted, "Oh, that. Yeah. Odds are. I'm pretty sure every psychotic asshole you can think of throughout history with delusions of grandeur was one."

Jill glanced at him. He didn't look horrified; he still just looked tired. He shrugged a shoulder at her, "Does it do any damn good to let it get you right now? Breathe, Jill. Breathe, and suck it up."

She nodded rapidly, wiggling her body to put feeling back into it. One -she was freezing to death, and two - she was facing revelations she never wanted to face. How far down the rabbit hole were they?

Kevin was right. There was no time to let the horror take residence in her. She had to deal with it and push on.

They stood by the fire momentarily as she speculated, "...the bombs should have gone off by now, right? How long has it been?"

"Too long," Kevin agreed, "maybe we assume Kennedy got them all."

It didn't surprise her at all. There was, literally, nothing Leon Kennedy couldn't do when he set his mind to it.

"...I think I know where to look for him."

Surprised, Kevin tilted his head at her, "Yeah?"

"If this is Arklay...then yeah."

"Lead the way, m'lady."

"You follow women?"

"When they have an ass as nice as yours, you bet."

"Leon would be so disappointed."

Kevin snorted as they turned toward the door into that evil hallway. "Leon would follow your ass, too, Jill. Don't kid yourself. Unless he's blind...or gay."

Kevin paused as he started to open the door, "...is he gay?"

Jill arched her brows, "Why?"

"Maybe that's the thing. Maybe that's why he doesn't really chase girls like he should. Maybe he's gay, and maybe the old girlfriend turned him off women forever."

"He's not gay." She shook her head, "trust me."

Kevin gave her a small smile, "Oh, sugarboobs, I do."

Jill put a hand on his arm again, "...thank you. For trying like hell to keep this light."

"Only other choice is depression and suicide, Valentine. I save that for post-battle."

Kevin opened the door and queried, "You ready?"

"No," Jill laughed lightly, "but what choice is there?"

"We could throw ourselves in the fireplace."

"You wouldn't fit," She teased, "lay off the nachos, tubby."

He laughed, but it didn't reach his eyes, and hers didn't either. But they were trying, and it was the best they could do. They moved into the hallway that had started her descent into survival horror, and she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, she was about to relive the nightmare.

She was hoping her luck was going to hold out -twice.

They were pushing chess pieces in that horrid room when the singing started. Kevin froze. Jill froze. But this time? The singing was from an intercom. It hissed. It crackled. And Kat's voice came from the speakers, "...would you like to play a game?"

Kevin crinkled his nose, "What is this? Saw?"

Kat responded over the speaker, "It's judgment day, you portly parrot - spewing the rhetoric of your ignorant leaders until you get your cracker."

Kevin muttered, "...always with the fat jokes."

Kat said in a sing-song voice, "This game is simple; it's a classic - so it shouldn't be hard to follow the rules," She chuckled, "hide, and I'll seek. If I find you, I show you what it means to be left behind and abandoned."

Kevin groaned, "...oof. Right in the low hangers with this one."

Jill called back, "And if we win?"

"Then I will show you what it means to be free," Kat laughed again, and it wasn't her laugh, not entirely; it had rings of Krauser in it. The terror that instilled made Jill focus harder. "What do you say, Jill? You play the mouse...and I? I'll play the Kat."

Kevin winced, "She's been hanging around Kennedy too long. She's all puns."

Feeling a surge of bravado, Jill called, "Game on, you bitch! Game on."

"Tick-tock, mouse, and moose, ready or not...here I come."

The speaker clicked off. Kevin remarked, "She's what? One twenty soaking wet? Does she think she can take us?"

Jill shook her head, "She's a host. Don't ever assume she's not anything but ten times your strength."

"Why not just wait here and blast her when she comes through the door?"

In answer, the room hissed, and it started to fill with gas. Jill whispered, "...that's why."

They ran for the door. They emerged into the hallway, coughing. And they weren't alone. Shambling down the corridor toward them were two B.S.A.A. agents. No, Jill amended, not shambling...twitching. They were jerking spastically.

Kevin arched a brow, "So much for a grace period to hide."

Jill backed him up with her hand on his belly and commanded, "Go...now."

"We should just-"

And the left one's head exploded in fluid and blood. What came from its ruined neck was the knife plagas version that cultists had frequently turned into. It whipped, slapped the walls, and passed an inch from Jill's nose as she stumbled back. Jill hit it with a dose of light from her flashlight, and it recoiled, shrieking. Kevin blasted it and the second one before it could change.

And the singing started again. But louder now. Closer. The scuttling of tiny claws and the echo of wings.

And Kevin finished, "Right...run. Got it."

The speakers told them, "You're hiding from me...but I didn't say I'd come alone."

Bad guys were always cheaters.

And the time for fair play was long over. With no other choice, they raced back into a nightmare Jill had spent a lifetime trying to forget.

Leon turned the dial on the last puzzle in the large chamber where he stood. The sundials all aligned, the various stages of moonlight - waxing, waning, full, new. When the wall beyond the altar slid open, he lifted his gun at what emerged.

It had been pathetically easy to overcome their "challenges." Most were a series of tests a person with half a brain could complete. He'd struggled only once - in a room like a maze where he'd had to put together sliding tile puzzles before things got to eat him. The slight push of adrenaline had seen him through, and he'd handled a variety of creepy crawlies that had stood between him and the inner sanctum.

He hadn't found Jill along the way, but he was very, very aware that he wasn't supposed to. Either they had her, and it was too late, or she was still out there and surviving. He didn't have much hope that anyone had made it. He knew the time would come that he would think about those he'd tried to leave behind and had died out of loyalty to him.

But it wasn't now.

Now, he was all business. The hyper-focus he was known for snapped into place as he kept his weapon on the thing coming down the steps. It wasn't a man, not exactly; it might have been once - but decay had set in, and the shell was rotting. It wore a fur-lined cloak in black and nothing but jewels and chains beneath it. It didn't seem to care about the cold or being mostly naked. The skinny form was as pale as the ice on the walls, and the head was hairless, a curl of tentacles slithering around it like a nest of snakes. Red eyes studied Leon with a naked interest.

"The chosen always return," It spoke in a surprisingly clear tenor as it descended toward him, "lower your weapon. There will not be battle between us."

"Oh, sure. Because I always drop my gun when invading monsters ask me politely."

"Invaders? Us?" The ill-defined form moved closer. "We were here when the planet began, and we seeded its birth. To us, you are the invaders."

Leon shook his head, "If you were that good at it, why aren't you the top of the food chain?"

"Because we were driven back into the dark by those of you who wouldn't believe," It paused, cocking its head, "lower your weapon, or I will have it taken from you."

And just like that, the world flickered, and Leon was outnumbered five to one. The Guardians stood silently, sentries on full alert, watching the show. Cautious, Leon lowered the gun until it was loose in his left hand.

"You've come to make a deal; you won't harm me to do it. If you do, we both know what I will do," It smiled, and that rotting face showed rows of teeth as a long, forked tongue licked its lips, "I have already unleashed the first wave. Even now, your people above battle for their lives. You know they have no chance. You know there is no winning...eventually, everything falls to the dark."

The thing in the cloak circled him, like a judge inspecting a prized pony in a show, and leaned against his back like a lover. Leon jerked and remarked, "Back off, or I'll take my chances."

It looped an arm over his chest instead, pinning his arms to his sides and proving there was massive strength in that skinny body. It spoke against the delicate shell of his ear, "We cultivated this world, grew its gifts. We did not ask you to be born on this rock but accept you. We accept your acceptance of our gift, and we allow you to live on our creation."

What did that even mean? Was it implying they'd somehow created the world? The plagas? The idea was too science fiction for Leon to accept. He'd seen a lot in his time, but the concept of the world not being "the world"? Ridiculous.

"What the hell are you?" Leon felt the first shiver of real fear as its fetid breath caressed his face.

"There have been many names for us over the eons... Primordial Ooze, amoeba, the Cradle of Life. We are none of it..." A tentacle snaked down Leon's face. "We are Plagas and nothing less."

The hook at the end of the tentacle caught Leon's chin, "Our whispers have traveled the world of man above. Our words have infected many of you mortals to spread the promise of our power... We are sure you've seen the fruits of those labors. The men and women who spread the word of power beyond imagining. A power beyond the shallow darkness of your limited understanding..."

When Leon jerked in his grip, the thing pinned him closer and tickled his lips with that tentacle. "We can take by force what I offer now in kindness. If the host resists, the change is violent. It can rift the mind, rend the senses, and corrupt the core...accept me, and I will allow you your free will. I will merely shadow you, inside you, but never without. Deny me and..."

It jerked Leon's face to the side to see his face. Nose to nose, it oozed, "I will send my first tendrils out to infect everything you love. I will destroy your world. I will ruin what I would have once revered."

Gruffly, Leon demanded, "How do I know you won't do that anyway?"

It tilted its head, "You don't. There are no guarantees. But I have no reason to lie. I will keep the first tendrils here and command them to obey. They will wait patiently until I prove we can exist in the sun...and then they will know that each host given to them will accept them willingly."

"What guarantees do I have that you won't release them the second I say yes?"

"None," the truth was a slap in the face, but one Leon had always expected anyway, "but you knew this. You came anyway and knew there was only one option here: accept, live, deny, and watch as your world burns."

"Ain't it always the way," Leon bared his teeth, "don't you bad guys know any other way than mutually assured destruction? I let you in me, and what? Trust you? I look like I was born yesterday?"

"I have no interest in using you to enact war. War is wasteful, reducing resources and leaving hollows and shells behind. I am not looking for death. Because we will be one," It brushed those tentacles through his hair, "You will see into me, and I, you. You will know what I know. I will feel what you feel. I want to walk in the sun. I have never set foot beyond this ice...I want to feel the warmth...and humanity...it fascinates me."

It tickled his lips again as it added, "Icarus once flew too close to the sun, and he burned his wings and tumbled to his death. I will succeed where he failed. And when the time is right, I will convince you to let me become you. Because you will understand...we are not evil; we are one. There is no evil, Chosen; there is always survival. I can do much without your consent; I can do more with it."

Leon studied that calm face, "...you want to know what it's like to be human?"

"Yessss," It hissed like a snake, "I want to understand, and through understanding comes revelation. When I understand, I can begin to whisper in the ears that will free your world of its innate weakness and allow the collective to combine. We will be as were meant to be, Chosen, one being, one heart, one mind...unstoppable."

Leon felt a shiver in his chest, "How do I know you won't simply overrule me?"

It tilted its head again, "Because once we are combined, you will have as much control as I do. You are Chosen. You have resisted our gift once and still stand against us. You are meant to lead...a true leader cannot be subjugated without consent. If I can overtake you, you aren't worthy."

The images came sharp and fast. The battle above - the waves of plagas that overran the B.S.A.A. and the National Guard like it was nothing. Chris, covered in blood, dying - fighting like hell and losing. The people in the town running in waves of fear and horror. Falling. Failing. Screaming.

The image became something else - the Eagle's Nest and Hitler, standing watch over the world as he tried to mold it to his vision. The plagas whispering, whispering, and lying. Lying. About everything. It broke him. It made him mad. It took the world into darkness.

Julius Caesar was surrounded by men, looking into the face of his trusted advisor and seeing red eyes, "E tu Brute?" But they were both red-eyed. They were both hearing the whispering. Even as one killed the other.

Caked in blood and hurt, a soldier stood at the cross's bottom. The man upon it, bound and bleeding, looking up at the Heavens like he'd heard the voice of the god who'd made him. And the soldier piercing his side as he saw it, the red eyes, and the utter acceptance on the man crucified, offering himself for the world as he would make it.

A desk. A man sitting in fear and horror. The whispering in his head. It hurt. He grabbed his typewriter and his pen. He wrote. He bled from his ears. His face flashed in the lightning - Edgar Allen Poe. Driven mad by the whispers. Drinking to save his sanity.

Lovecraft accepted it. Easily. Completely. Offering himself to the plagas and telling his stories to a world that would see the beauty in his cosmic truth. The truth. He spun it. He sold it. He told it.

And no one believed.

The Red Sea parting, actually parting and opening the way. The man who stood there with the gift of truth on him. He led them to safety, and he offered them freedom. They saw god.

But what they saw was plagas.

The Mayans in their temples. Worshipful. Believing. Sacrifices made to gods that were parasites. Gods that were aliens. The pyramids - constructed to allow the blood to flow easily from their prey. The Sphinx created to show what they could become; they would become if they just accepted. Plagas in the sabertooth tigers. Plagas in early man. Dying without fire. The few who weren't plagas, finding the fire, finding the ability to evolve.

Plagas - unable to understand humanity's will to survive. Unable to comprehend self-sacrifice or inner strength. Alien. Foreign. Trying to look into him now to see what he saw, feel it, and learn from him. He was a mystery. He was an enigma.

Leon grabbing Jill in that mine. He'd grabbed her and heard it whispering - give in. Give in. Give in. And he'd believed. Not in the plagas, no, but in Jill. In humanity. She'd stop him. He'd hold it long enough to let her kill him. He'd hold it. It whispered, "Kill her." And he resisted. He didn't. He didn't go for the gun. He kept the knife and ensured she knew; she knew he was a threat.

He held it back.

He had to hold it now.

Because the plagas wanted him to think of his family, it wanted him to think of their death. It wanted him to feel, smell, taste, and accept it. The dark was inevitable.

He couldn't hold it back.

But it was wrong.

There had to be another way out of this. But if there was one, he couldn't see it. When he came into these caves, he'd known he was here to cut a deal. He knew it was his only hope to stop the spread. He knew it the first time they'd come through.

And he knew the plagas in him meant eventually, eventually...what was in these caves would come after Natalia if he didn't stop them.

He wasn't even afraid as he grumbled, "If you try to overtake me, I'll kill us both. I will burn myself alive to stop you from fleeing into another host."

It tilted its head again, "I believe you. You are chosen. You have the fire of the collective inside you. And the collective flies too close to the sun to spare the rest." It leaned in until their lips brushed and said, "I am Daedalus, the first, the beginning. I was once something else - but it had no name. When we landed on your planet, we were already more than a name. You are the first in history to find their way back to the beginning...and now I offer you the choice - accept me, or I will use your body to destroy everything you hold dear. You will stand on the world's edge and witness its extinction."

The tentacle slid against Leon's mouth as Daedalus finished, "...the choice was always yours."

But it wasn't. It hadn't ever really ever been one. There was no choice here. It was death or slavery. And he couldn't be the guy who crooked a finger and risked the lives of those who relied on him. It wasn't his risk to take. He knew, he'd always known; he'd do whatever it took to protect the people who couldn't defend themselves. It was his entire reason for existing. Hero, Jill had said, but it wasn't that. Not really.

It was just him.

The guy who made a deal with the devil to buy the time to stop him.

The government had tried to leash a dog. They'd tried to control him. But they'd found themselves leashed to a wolf. Just as Daedalus would be. A wolf - a big, bad, angry wolf - and he would blow their motherfucking house down. Sometimes, when there's no hope, there's just iron will and resolve. And knowing the battle was hopeless unless you were willing to do it within yourself and pray you had the strength to control it.

Blue eyes locked with red as Leon opened his mouth and answered, "Game on. But you better understand one thing - I'm the guy who killed thousands of your ugly ass pals and hardly broke a sweat for a girl I barely knew," his smile turned up, "what do you think I'll do for the ones I love?"

Daedalus answered that smile as the tentacle curled around Leon's bottom lip, "What you do best..." It tilted his head back and rose higher and higher until Daedalus was easily over eight feet tall. It craned Leon back like a lover about to bestow a kiss, "...survive."

Its mouth opened, wide, wider, impossibly wide, and then, it struck.

And the sound of that horrible singing filled the cave in a litany of completion.