mychoombatheroomba

[mychoombatheroomba]

May we present @mychoombatheroomba, the author of Between the Bones

[mychoombatheroomba]

Someone to Carry You

Disavowed (Krauser x GN! Reader/Krauser x Leon) - Chapter 6

1998

Krauser visits you in the hospital and reckons with a world that will never be the same again.

(Cross-posted from Ao3)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter (Coming Soon!)

Chapter Index

TW for hospitals, PTSD and vague suicidal ideation

February 12th, 1998

18:43

Washington DC

He’d seen something he shouldn’t have seen. That much was very plain to Krauser in the weeks following his return from Dorne Base. He’d seen what he shouldn’t have – what he and the government both wished he hadn’t. 

The next week was full of questions and red tape. Above all, there was an order that he would speak not a word of what happened. Not him or any of his men. They’d pulled him from the mission he was supposed to run and kept him and the others grounded. It wasn’t the first time in his career he’d been told to keep quiet about something.

It wasn’t the first comrade’s funeral he’d had to attend, either. 

Captain Simon Reynolds. Buried with honor. Krauser had stood there, in the same dress uniform he’d worn the last time he’d seen his friend alive. He’d watched as Simon’s wife held back tears during the three-volley salute. As his family tried to look strong. There were dozens of empty caskets lowered into the ground that day. Dozens of soldiers who would not go home to their families, their bodies kept for study and security. “Unrecoverable” was the official story. So Krauser had received dozens upon dozens of dog tags that should have gone home to mothers, fathers, siblings and children. 

All but one, belonging to someone who wasn’t present at the funeral. 

Someone who, from what he’d heard, had woken up the day after your Captain was laid to rest. 

They wouldn’t let him see you - or let anyone see you, for that matter. Not based off what he was told. There were questions to answer first - questions that burned at the forefront of Krauser’s mind, too. 

He’d seen his share of bodies, but nothing like what he’d seen that day. Nothing like the twisted parody of a man lying in the ruins of the base, claws and teeth sprouting from dead flesh. That image flashed through his mind often. Almost as much as the image of his friend lying in the snow, dead and gone. 

That one always came with the memory of you, asking to be left behind. Asking Krauser to let you die. 

It was hard to reconcile that memory with his first impression of you. That didn’t get any easier when, after a week, they finally cleared his request to visit. 

A request he wasn’t even sure why he was making, if he was honest with himself. 

He had visited plenty of soldiers in the hospital before. If any of his men were ever injured in the line of duty, the Major made damn sure that he was there for them. To let them know that their sacrifice was recognized and appreciated. Only, you weren’t one of his men. He’d only met you twice, and yet, here he was, standing outside the door to your hospital room. 

The questions in his head were part of what led him there, he knew. He wanted to know what they were refusing to tell him, what had happened that could kill so many. What could possibly turn a human being into whatever it was he saw? He wanted to know who had set the charges that set the base on fire. He wanted to know who had executed the soldiers there and burned their bodies. He wanted to know why his friend had been torn apart by bullets, and why an empty gun had been at your side when he found you. 

All of those burning curiosities . . . and when he opened the hospital room door, the sight before was a bucket of water dumped over them. 

The last time he’d seen you, you quite literally had been on the verge of death. Now, weeks later, you didn’t look much better. 

Bruises and bandages, and dark violet circles under your closed eyes. You slept so still in that moment after he opened the door, Jack wondered if perhaps he’d been lied to - that you’d died after all. Only the droning of machines told him otherwise. 

You were a soldier. Getting hurt was always a risk, he knew that, and you had to have known too. Seeing you now, though, knowing only shrouded inferences of what you’d been through . . . it was enough to give him pause. Enough to shift his concern towards you, because you’d been so vibrant. So removed from the violence of this life. 

And now that violence had marked you, irreversibly and irrevocably. 

You hadn’t been at fault for whatever happened. If you had been, Krauser had no doubt that you would be locked away somewhere, away from everything and everyone. You weren’t the crux of his anger. You had lost someone, just as much as he had. More so, maybe. Reynolds had been a guiding ally for Krauser. He didn’t know who the Captain had been for you, really. He just knew the way Reynolds had looked at you that night, his eyes so full of pride. 

You meant something to Simon Reynolds. You meant something to his friend. That was what made Jack step fully into the room, towards the chair by the window. 

He only barely moved to sit before a sharp intake of breath stopped him dead in his tracks. 

You’d tried to sit up, but it looked like pain stopped you. Your face contorted into an expression of agony, your eyes snapping wide open. One hand grasped at your belly, at the stitches and bandages hidden beneath your hospital gown. The other clutched at the space around you for something. Anything. A weapon. As if there’d be anything to defend yourself with amidst the shitty bed sheets and shittier pillows the hospital provided. 

As if Krauser was a threat at all. 

Still, he knew damn well that it wasn’t him you were afraid of. So, he held up his hands in surrender. “Easy, Sergeant.” He wasn’t used to making his voice sound soothing. That was an aspect of his nature that didn’t come easy. Still, he tried. 

The dawning shock in your eyes made it hard to tell if it worked. 

Your voice at the bar all those weeks ago had been confident. Magnetically so. Now, Jack almost didn't recognize the broken sound of it. “Major Krauser,” you spoke after a moment, like you didn’t really believe what you were seeing. 

“Didn't mean to wake you,” the Major went on, a genuine apology in his tone. 

Your chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, no doubt all your wounds would allow. Panic turned into a wary curiosity. And once that took hold, Krauser saw something else behind your eyes. Something that seemed to do everything in its power to keep your words from fleeing you. Still, you managed to shake your head, however small the motion was. “You didn’t.” 

Maybe you’d been a better liar before all of this. Right now, though, Krauser didn’t believe you for a second. Something to do with the way you averted your eyes - the way you kept glancing at him, like a wary and wounded animal. 

Like you didn’t want to meet his gaze. 

The Sergeant he’d met at that military ball, the one he’d wondered about for longer than he should have, was nowhere to be found now. But maybe you were in there, somewhere. 

He was no good at comfort. Some soldiers were, but he certainly wasn’t one of them. Still, he owed it to the Captain to try. “Mind if I sit?” Krauser asked, gesturing to the chair he’d been headed towards. 

You spared a half-glance at it, and even less of a nod for confirmation. 

It was enough. 

So, Krauser lowered himself into the old chair, the compression of the cushion the only noise to accompany the sound of the hospital machines. At least until the Major settled in enough to take you in. Then, after a moment: “What’s the prognosis?” His hand lifted, gesturing to the wound he knew lay hidden on your belly. The one he’d watched his medic reseal, after the mess of badly-cauterized flesh had ripped open. 

It was a wound you didn’t look at when he called attention to it. Hell, you didn’t even look at him as you answered. “I’ll heal.” 

“Fully?” 

A single nod was your response. No words, because Jack knew damn well that as much as the flesh may heal, the rest would never be the same. Still, you were alive. You’d fought, just like he told you to and now here you were. 

“Good. Wasn’t sure you were going to make it.” He’d seen lesser wounds kill more experienced men. Cold and steel and whatever else you’d faced, though, hadn’t been enough to kill you. He wasn’t sure how you’d survived it all, in truth. 

You wouldn’t have, if not for him. 

“You were there.” He wondered how much of the experience was still out of reach for you. If you remembered him carrying you vividly, the image made sharp from pain, or if you’d been so far gone it was little more than a dream to you. He supposed the latter was more likely. So, he nodded in an effort to bring clarity. 

However much the memory pitted out his stomach. 

“I was. They sent me and my team in when the base stopped checking in.”

“And you found me.” 

You and so much that Krauser couldn’t outrun, these last few days. He’d had the fortune to seldom struggle with sleep, even after all he’d seen. Still, he’d been more restless than usual as of late. 

He could only imagine what it was you saw when you closed your eyes. Perhaps that was why you didn’t sound happy that you had been found at all. 

Leave me. You’d made that request of him, the words embedding in his memory. You’d wanted to die, and he hadn’t let you. 

“Damn glad I did,” Jack nodded, watching you carefully, and speaking more carefully still. 

“And why are you here now?” The question was borne out of fear, Krauser could hear it. Fear and guilt shrink-wrapped together. 

The reason for that fear, he knew, was also the answer to your question. “Because Simon was my friend. And I want to know what happened to him.” 

Horror. Pure and utter horror poisoned your expression. 

That only made the pit in Krauser’s stomach deepen. He could retreat. He could insist that you didn’t need to tell him, to spare you reliving that memory. He could, but he wouldn’t. Instead, he waited for your answer, even as it tore at you. 

“I can’t say. They told me not to talk about it.”

Krauser had expected as much. He’d known that the order to keep quiet would have extended to you too. “Tell me what you can, then.” 

For days now, he’d waited. Wondered. Imagined every possible ending for his friend’s story - for the ending of an entire base full of good men and women. As you shook your head, then, he knew that you’d been reliving that end. Every second. Every moment since you woke up. He could hear it in your voice as, finally, your lips parted to deliver your answer. 

“He saved me,” you said simply. “And . . . and I couldn’t save him.” Your lip trembled, your head shaking against the pillow that supported it. Your fingers picked at your nail beds. He saw blood beading there as you spoke again. “None of them. I couldn’t-”

Krauser watched you clench your jaw so tight he thought you might break your teeth, your eyes shining under the harsh hospital lights. You refused to let the tears fall, though, cutting them and your own words off. You were still fighting. Now, it just wasn’t against your injuries or the cold or death as it tried to claim you. You were fighting yourself, he could see it. 

You’d failed to save someone who meant something to him. He should condemn you for that. Instead, Jack shook his head. 

“You did what you could.” He said it as if he’d been there. As if he’d seen you give your all to save your Captain, because he knew that you had. In your voice and in your wounds, he knew it. 

Even if it hadn’t been enough. 

Just as his words weren’t enough, now. 

All the poor comfort in the world wouldn’t change what you’d been through. What you’d survived. It made the next words you croaked out less than surprising. “You should have left me there.” 

Less than surprising, but no less enraging. 

“That’s not what he would have wanted, and you damn well know it.” 

A flicker of pain crossed your face, but you didn’t protest. So, Krauser went on, bracing his scarred forearms on his knees. 

“You mattered to him. I may not have seen much of him these last few years, but I could see that plain as day. So you don’t get to give up.” Because too many men and women lay dead for anything else. Too many families had buried empty caskets. You were the only survivor of something Krauser had never seen before. You were the only one who knew what it was that was out there, now. He wouldn’t let you waste away, or crumble inwards on yourself because he could feel the shifting of the world. He knew that whatever had twisted those corpses into monsters in Dorne Base wouldn’t just go away. He and his country needed to be ready. “You’re the only one who knows what we’re up against. The only one left who saw what happened-”

“I know-”

“You’re the best chance we have of bringing whoever did this down-”

“I know.”

“Then you have a duty to all of them, to everyone in that base to live.”

“I know!” you cried, baring your teeth in a grimace of pain. 

It was as he already knew - comfort was not something he was good at. Each word was a battering ram to you, he could see it. You lay on the bed with your eyes squeezed shut, like you were trying to block out him and the rest of the world. 

“I know.” Your words were weaker this time, broken by sobs. That sound brought about some regret in him, however small. 

So he gave you a moment. Just a brief moment as your fists trembled against the hospital bed. Your nostrils flared as you took in shuddering breaths. They no doubt tugged at broken bones and sutured flesh, enough that tiny sounds of pain escaped you as you grieved. As you mourned in the only way you could, in that moment.

Which pain was worse for you, he wondered? 

He’d caused it. At least in part. He’d pulled you from the snow, he’d kept you from death. He’d pushed you to look the aftermath in the face. 

And he would keep pushing you.

“So you live,” Jack went on, still firm but as soft as he could manage. “For him. For the rest of them. You honor your Captain by holding on to your life and living it.” 

It was another few moments, but slowly your breathing steadied. Your hands relaxed, your arms sinking into the bed at your sides. Your eyes remained closed, but you nodded. 

Good. 

“So what do you want to do with that life, Sergeant?” Krauser asked. 

Maybe you’d say you wanted him to leave. Maybe you’d say you wanted a stiff bourbon, or to live the rest of your days in peace. Maybe you’d say you wanted it all to end. Krauser prepared himself for any of those answers. 

You gave him another one altogether. 

“I want to kill them.” 

The Major looked at you with a pale brow raised, watching as you took a deep breath despite the pain it had to have caused. Or, maybe, because of it. He watched as you opened your eyes, red from crying, and stared up at the hospital ceiling like it had taken everything from you. But then, he doubted it was the ceiling that you were picturing in your mind’s eye. 

“I want to find the people who did this, and I want to end them.” 

There you were. Not the carefree soul who’d flirted with him at the bar, not the broken body he’d found in the snow. 

A soldier. A fighter, just like he’d thought you would be. 

“Then heal,” Krauser commanded, rising to his feet and moving forward. “Get your strength back.” He stopped at your bedside, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a little piece of metal, a name and serial number stamped into its face. It was twin to another tag - one that had remained with a body that Simon Reynolds’ family would never get to see. If they couldn’t have the tags because of a lie, as far as Krauser was concerned, there was only one person who deserved to hold the Captain’s memory. One person who would carry it and the debt that came with it. So, he placed the dog tag on the table by your bed, seeing a fresh wave of emotion wash over you as you read the name on it. “And when you’re ready, we’ll hunt these bastards down together.” 

You looked up at him, those reddened eyes searching his. “Why would you help me? You barely know me.” 

A fair question. One he answered with words he’d heard once, when he was younger. When he’d been bleeding and could barely stand, and one man had taken it upon himself to lift him up. “When you can’t run, you crawl. And when you can’t do that, you find someone to carry you.” 

When your eyes widened, Jack knew you’d heard those words before. He didn’t have to ask who from. 

“Good to know he was still spouting the same old lines after all these years,” Krauser mused with a bitter smile. 

You said nothing in return, but you didn’t need to. The spark was lit. You would survive this, Jack was sure of it. 

For the sake of his old friend, that was enough. 

Whatever you became because of it . . . that was up to you.

“I’ll come back with bourbon next time,” Jack said. “Made you a promise, didn’t I?”

And he was a man of his word.

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Chapter Index

A/N:

Congratulations to you all for starting you anti-hero arcs! Or your downfall arcs, depending on how you look at it, I suppose. Next chapter (which hopefully won't take four months to write) will be back to Operation Javier! Because if Capcom won't give us the remake version of events then I continue to have free reign to do with it whatever I want 😁

And also they can pry my Firefly references from my cold, dead hands

[mychoombatheroomba]

A short comic I drew for Tango Down, a Chinese metaltango fanzine. I wanted to show my vision of the story of Leon and Krauser's relationship, mixing the original game, the remake and the chronicles. The result was a path from mistrust to forbidden passion, and then through alienation and hatred to posthumous reconciliation.

I made a sfw version for publication on some resources. Although the original comic is already quite restrained.

And how it looks in the book! Socond image by @19o4 <3

[mychoombatheroomba]

the two types of leon fans

[mychoombatheroomba]

More Arcane spoilers beneath the cut

So Mel Medarda is single again???

[mychoombatheroomba]

An Eye for An Eye

Between the Bones (Leon x GN! Reader) - Chapter 54

Leon and the squad grapple with the weight of their loss while you learn what you mysterious ally has given you.

(Cross-posted from Ao3)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter (Coming Soon!)

Chapter Index

“You look like shit.”

Valeria had never been one to mince words. Whatever else had changed in the last week, that had remained the same. At least something had. 

Leon wasn’t sure he wanted the company. He had gone outside to escape the droning fluorescent lights and ever-present eyes inside the CIA facility. He’d gone out to be where his thoughts could have a quiet place to wage their war. His friends should have brought him comfort. 

He hated that they didn’t. 

“Don’t worry, I feel worse.” His response was dry as his friend leaned against the wall beside him, sliding down to sit at his level. She hummed what might have been a laugh, once. Now, the sound was muted. A gray tone where once there had been vibrant color. 

Leon could sympathize. 

“Good to know we’re all in the same boat.” Dina lowered herself onto the ground at Valeria’s side, the three of them looking out towards the dimming sky. 

The shorter of the two women scoffed, shaking her head. “Can’t fucking sleep. Every time I close my eyes, it’s just . . .” 

She didn’t need to say it. Leon knew. Maybe that was why they’d sought him out. Maybe they hoped he’d have some advice. Some secret to help them through it all. As if he hadn’t been cursed with this for months now. Just when he’d thought he might finally be free of it-

“You guys hear the official story?” 

Leon turned his head towards Dina, who looked up at the sky like she had a bone to pick with whoever was up there. He knew what she was talking about without having to ask. The base. How the Army would spin so many lives lost all at once. 

“They, uh . . . they’re saying it was a fire that got out of control. Someone smoking without authorization. Summer heat, dry brush . . . fwoosh .” She motioned with her hands, then let out an empty laugh. “Probably easier that way. Don’t have to send home any bodies if they’re all ash.”

A fire. The same excuse used for Dorne base. More lies. More deaths kept hidden. 

It was a bad joke.  

“You know, they put all this money into this,” Dina droned, shaking her head, “training us to fight monsters, teaching us to spy and shoot and whatever else. And then none of it fuckin’ matters.” 

“It’ll matter,” Leon shook his head, surprising himself. He sounded like you. Like you used to, before everything had crashed down around you all. He just wished he believed the words more. “It’s gotta mean something.” His life hadn’t been torn open and rearranged for no reason. You hadn’t been made to relive the worst night of your life for nothing. He had to believe that. 

“I don’t think any of this means anything,” Williams shook her head, digging her heels into the dirt and pushing her legs out in front of her. “I don’t think watching your friends kill each other has some greater purpose behind it.” 

“Dina,” Valeria spoke, her voice softer than Leon had ever heard it, “he wanted to go out on his own terms.” 

It didn’t matter how right she was, though. The words, the memory of you lowering that gun, of that look of nothingness in your eyes, and a pool of crimson framing Logan’s head . . .

“Shouldn’t have had to, though,” Dina shook her head. “He should be right here, telling us some stupid shit about tanks, or singing fuckin’ Journey.” 

The world blurred a bit, as tears stung at Leon’s eyes. He clenched his jaw tight. He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t let it out, or he’d crumble. These last few days, he’d learned very quickly in the solitude of his room that once he started down that path, there wasn’t much that could stop it. 

None of this should have happened. Leon almost spoke it aloud with a bitter laugh, feeling his heart beating at a faster pace. His mind running in desperate circles, trying to escape the thoughts that nipped at its heels. None of this should be like this. 

All the wishing in the world wouldn’t change it, though. 

“But he isn’t.” That was all Leon could manage to say. 

Dina shook her head, her mouth pressed in a thin line. “But he isn’t.” 

Silence blanketed them for a few long seconds, before the covers were torn off again. 

“Sarge said anything about it?” 

The question was meant for Leon. Who else? He was the one you spoke to most, before. If you would have said anything, it would have been to him. Should have been to him. As it was . . .

“No.” He couldn’t decide if he wished you had or not. 

Dina didn’t look like she could decide, either. She bit at the inside of her mouth, shaking her head. “I know why it had to happen . . .” she said, nodding like she was trying to convince herself of it even now; that you putting a bullet in her friend’s head was the right thing to do. That it was mercy. “I just . . .” she just couldn’t fathom it. 

Leon nodded in turn. “Yeah. I know.” 

There was only so much rationalizing one could do. Only so many times a person could tell themselves that it had to be done. Leon knew he would either be broken by that fact or become numb to it. He wasn’t sure which one he dreaded more. 

Nor was he able to dwell on it for long, before a figure approached, winding around the edge of the building. Leon and his companions looked up just in time to see a guard there, his face pulled into a tight expression. Leon didn’t even get to ask what brought him there before the guard spoke, gesturing for them all to stand. 

“Everyone needs to come with me. Now.” 

He didn’t hide it very well - the worry in his voice. The urgency. 

“What happened?” Valeria asked, her eyes suddenly sharpening as she picked up on the new energy brought to the moment. 

There was no real answer given, only a sense of looming dread as they were ushered back to their rooms. A sense of dread that was becoming all too familiar to Leon. 

⧫⧫⧫

Fate hadn’t given you many of the things that you’d hoped for. 

In fact, lately, it felt like life had been gorging itself on you, rather than practicing charity. What it had given, you found, had only led to hurt. Or it surely would. This would be no different. The gift you’d just been given would bring pain, but it was the kind you would gladly endure. You wouldn’t refuse something you craved with all your being - that you had paid for in blood and bruises and a breaking spirit. You gave in to a dark faith that now, finally, fate had thrown you a goddamn bone. 

Not all those around you shared that sentiment.

Including you, there were five in the room - a room that was completely sealed off from the rest of the world. Simmons watched the room from the edges of it, twisting the gold ring on his thumb while he focused. Hellman and Benford were more focused on the computer screen in front of them. As for the fifth . . . you could never remember feeling so much weight behind Major Krauser’s gaze. He’d done a poor job of hiding his concern when you and Hellman explained what had happened. That concern had so quickly turned to rage, and you had wished you could return to being blind to the cause of it all. Things had been less complicated, then. 

You wished a lot of things could go back to the way they had been. 

But with no way to go but forward, you set your focus to the information in front of you. A hound being given a scent. 

“I don’t like this.” Benford shook his head, the computer screen in front of him reflected in his glasses.  

The images on it, the text . . . 

Coordinates. Overhead images of an island - Kolguyev, it read. A sizable but mostly unoccupied piece of land in the Barents Sea. Russia. The island itself had a small town on one side, and on the other, a fenced perimeter. Four buildings were tucked in, surrounded by more open expanses of land. Ranges, you realized. You could see vehicles, even what looked like a tank, and well-carved pathways for them to use. It was a familiar layout even if you’d never seen the island before - you’d spent the last several months in places just like this, after all.

“It’s a training facility,” you breathed, your voice raspy. Crushed down to size by the man’s hand around your throat. A man who, it seemed, had given you a target. 

It was all but confirmed when Benford scrolled down, and names and faces you didn’t recognize passed the screen. Service records, you realized, though not for any one country’s military. No, they were unified under a different banner. 

𝚄𝚖𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚂𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚎

𝙰𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝: 𝚁𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝙲𝚒𝚝𝚢

That was not surprising. Instead, what caught your eye was not who they served, but where they’d come from. 

𝙱𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚌 𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙺𝚘𝚕𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚎𝚟 𝙵𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢

Benford leaned back in his chair, his mouth set in a thin line. 

His silence only served to fuel your anger. You weren’t alone in that. 

“You said Reed was heading to Russia?” Krauser sounded just as viciously pleased as you were. It only made the senior agent at the computer more uncomfortable. 

Benford nodded. Once. Reluctantly. “But there are Umbrella facilities all over the world. We don’t know-”

“We don’t have to know.” You straightened up, feeling something rise in you. Potential energy, the need to do something. And now, you’d been given a heading. “If this is a training facility, then we can start to level the playing field.” You could take from them what they’d taken from you: their future. And if Reed was there, then you could kill him. You could show him the failure of his cause as he died and-

“The risk is too high,” Benford shook his head. “Not when we have so little concrete information.”

“But you can get more information.” Krauser sounded almost as certain as you were, tearing open holes in Benford’s argument. 

He’d taught you to press the offensive, so you did. “You wanted to fight Umbrella. You trained us to do that, and now what? You’re too scared to use the weapons you built?” You met Benford’s eyes, and felt some little satisfaction when you saw him waver under your stare.  

His response was measured, even so. “It’s not that simple, Sergeant. It’s how we were given this information that concerns me.” 

“You mean the man who broke your perimeter like it was made of tissue paper?” Krauser’s words bit hard into their target, as they so often did. 

Benford just turned the attack into more ammunition. “Exactly. This man broke into our facility without issue. He overpowered you and Hellman both, and left just as easily. This kind of intel isn’t just given without motive.” 

“Umbrella has enemies besides us,” Simmons pointed out, finally entering the conversation with a cool voice. “Their facility on Rockfort Island was destroyed by a paramilitary organization a few months ago, was it not?” 

So Krauser hadn’t been given all the reports after all, because that name didn’t sound familiar to you. By his reaction now, it wasn’t because the Major had omitted any information when it came to you.

“It was,” Benford confirmed, “but I would argue that makes this more suspicious. Not less.” 

It was Hellman who spoke next, incredulous. “If Umbrella has an enemy in that man, why is he not the one storming Kolguyev?” There was something to that, you supposed. He’d crushed a knife blade in his hand. Lifted you off the ground like you were nothing, and moved with a speed you couldn’t hope to match. Even so, even with all that power, he was handing this off to the likes of you. “He wouldn’t let us take him in for a reason. He’s setting us up to be pawns.” 

“Does it matter?” you found yourself asking, the words not your own. Did it matter whose pawn you were, so long as Umbrella was dealt a blow? 

Benford turned to you, already-present frown lines deepening. “There’s a good chance that this is a trap. If this is a training outpost, there will be soldiers there-”

Fire rushed through you, your gaze turned to a branding iron. “I’m counting on it.” 

A laugh followed your declaration, and Simmons pushed off the wall. Satisfaction curled his lips into a smile. “ That right there. We need more soldiers like that if we’re to stand a chance against this corporation. Sometimes risks must be taken in a fight such as this one, and we need those who will do what it takes.” 

“So glad you approve,” Krauser snarled under his breath, but the conversation went on as if he’d said nothing.

Benford snapped his attention to his fellow agent, then. “Derek, we don’t have many people who know about this conflict left. If this operation goes wrong, we could lose all of them.” 

It was true. You knew it. This was enemy territory. No reinforcements, no solid intel, nothing to go on but what you held now. And it was worth it, for the exact reasons that Simmons spoke now. “And if this really is a training facility, if more records like these are available there and we got ahold of them,” he pointed his chin towards the screen, “then we could root out Umbrella’s personnel.” 

People like Reed. People like the man who’d driven a knife into your gut, and the team that had been with him. If there was a chance you could find them - track them down . . . 

“So send me.” The room turned towards Krauser, the Major pulling attention with his declaration. One forged in iron. One that embedded itself in your gut.

“By yourself, Major?” Simmons asked. The bastard had a talent for sounding patronizing, one that Krauser didn’t appreciate, if his biting tone was any indication. 

“Benford’s right. You’re down too many men to send them. I’m the most experienced soldier you have who knows about all of this. One man has a better chance of not being spotted than a team.” 

No. You felt a surge of something rise in you at the suggestion, because you knew how that would end. Whatever was happening with Krauser, whatever his feelings for you and however you felt in return, you knew that if he went out there alone, he would likely die. 

That was unacceptable. 

Even so, you stopped yourself from voicing that thought. You stopped yourself because all of the people in this room seemed to think that there was something between you and the Major. Something you couldn’t give credence to. You had to act as though you didn’t care, as though the man who’d saved your life, who’d given you so much, meant nothing to you. 

So, just like with Alenko, you dug deeper into the hollow of yourself. 

“So,” the Major went on, blue eyes boring into Benford’s own, “send me.” 

The most horrifying part was that the men around you considered it. You could see them making the mental calculations. Better to lose one man than an entire squad, that was the brutal calculus of it. One that you couldn’t exactly argue.

“No.” Your focus snapped elsewhere, and you never, ever thought you would be grateful to Hellman of all people. Still, the agent, wielding the guilt you’d buried in his gut, went on. “You’re a good soldier, no one can deny that, but this is about infiltration. Information retrieval. That’s what I’ve been trained for.” 

Krauser scoffed, somehow making a laugh sound dangerous. “You couldn’t even tell that your friend was an Umbrella plant.”

“Neither could you, Major,” Hellman reminded him. “Not until it was too late.”

“You watch your mouth-”

Hellman went on, undeterred. “I’m in the best position to make it right. I can scope things out and see what’s there.” It was an idea that sat with you no better than Krauser going alone. Not because you cared about Hellman’s safety, but because he didn’t deserve this vengeance, as far as you were concerned. 

“Noble of you,” Simmons nodded, still twisting the gold band on his thumb, “but that doesn’t solve the problem of one man not being enough to take down an entire base. A small team could assess the facility covertly and then infiltrate it if need be,” he went on, eyes sharp as he planned. 

“The Umbrella facilities we’re aware of thus far have always been more than they appear on the surface,” Benford pointed out. “There could be more than what’s depicted here. They would be on enemy territory, going in blind, fighting a force they’ve never faced before.” 

“How fortunate then,” Simmons just went on, his fingers twisting his ring while his lips were twisted into a smile to match, “that we have individuals with experience in such matters. Individuals who understand the value of knowing one’s enemy, and will stop at nothing to take the fight to them.” He looked at you, then, with the expression of a man who gambled and won more often than not. A man who didn't mind betting, especially when he wasn't the one who stood to lose. 

You didn’t mind that he was gambling with your life, though. Not so long as you got what you wanted. 

The only trouble was that Simmons wasn’t the only player in this game. 

“I don’t like the idea of sending just the two of them,” Benford said, another opinion added to the mix. One borne of mistrust - that much you could see plainly. You and Hellman were untrustworthy in his eyes, even now. You couldn’t blame him, you supposed; this mysterious man with too much information on Umbrella appeared out of nowhere and gifted you exactly what you needed. Anyone with a brain would find it suspicious. 

You understood that, you truly did. The only trouble was, what you knew was coming next. What you felt in your bones. 

“Kennedy has been inside Umbrella facilities before,” Benford went on, and it was clear to you then that fate had not, in fact, thought you’d paid the price for this gift. No, it demanded ever more. “And they worked well with Soto and Williams. That would keep the team small enough to avoid attention.” 

Your jaw tightened as he spoke their names, eyes going wide, showing off the red that had crept in when your air was cut off. 

But before you even had the chance to speak, Krauser huffed, incredulous. “Then I should go with them.” 

“I would be inclined to agree,” Simmons took a moment to formulate his counter, “but you and Hellman here are the only two instructors we have left with knowledge of bioweapons.”

“You can just tell someone else. They just destroyed an entire base, it’s not like it’s going to be a secret forever.” 

“The President has made it clear,” Benford said this time, “the fewer people know about all this, the better.” 

It was a losing argument. A fight not worth spilling blood over. That didn’t stop Krauser, though. “You’ve got to be joking,” the Major shook his head, looking between you and Simmons. “You wanna send a bunch of shell-shocked rookies out there? You’ll get them killed.” 

Simmons tilted his head to the side. “Many of these ‘rookies’ have service records before STRATCOM, Major. With the exception of Kennedy, I suppose. Though I would imagine his experience in Raccoon City makes up for that fact.” 

“They’re not ready-”

“Are you implying that your training of them was insufficient?” 

“Damn it, you’ve seen them!” He was talking about the entirety of your squad, but he looked at you. And in that moment, you had a realization: this wasn’t the Major you were used to seeing. In the last few months, he’d been a steadying force for you. A leader you could look to for guidance. Now, in this moment, all you saw was a scared man, clinging to whatever control he had left. Control that he’d given up the moment he gave you those reports. The second he admitted his guilt in doing so. “They’re afraid, and angry, and if you send people like that out there, they’re going to slip up. They’re going to get themselves killed.” 

He’d told you so many times to never show weakness. To never bear your scars and wounds. Now, here he was, doing it without meaning. 

A blunted blade would do them no good. Whether that was Krauser or Leon or you. 

So, no matter how much you wanted to insist that Leon be left behind, that he wasn’t suited to this mission, you knew how that would look. You knew that, to Simmons, that would be blood in the water for him to scent and salivate on. 

Not that it mattered what you or Krauser wanted, anyway. The decision was already being made, you could see it in Simmons’ eyes. 

Leon’s fate and yours, your friends . . . you were all tied together. At least you could spare one person you cared about. He’d saved your life once, after all. You hadn’t expected to return the favor this way. 

You hadn’t expected so many things. 

“You’re angry, sir,” you said, finding your voice again, however hollow it may be. You’d seen many expressions on Krauser’s face that you’d never thought to see, lately. The surprise you were greeted with now, almost like betrayal, was one of them. He wasn’t the only one that had a claim to that betrayal. Still, you carried on, reminding him of a fact he should have known well. “Your judgment would be just as compromised.” 

You’d never been on the receiving end of Major Krauser’s anger, really. Some part of you had hoped to never experience it. When faced with it now, though? You were surprised by how little it affected you. He’d taught you to face down worse though, hadn’t he? 

“My judgment?” He asked, stepping closer. “You want to talk about emotion clouding judgment? All you’ve ever done is let what you’re feeling control you. The only reason you’re here is revenge. That’s it. You want to kill the people who took your Captain. Your friends-” 

“Umbrella didn’t kill them,” you said, your expression blank as you stated the truth that had eaten away at you. The truth that had carved a well in you and taken up residence there. Because as much as Umbrella had turned your friends into monsters, as much as Reed and the man who’d driven a knife into you had done, they hadn’t pulled the trigger on Rain. 

Or Reynolds. 

Or Alenko. 

“I did.” 

Krauser, for once, looked disarmed. He stared at you - him and the other men in the room. Men who had either helped shape you into the dagger you were, or would wield you. 

“I did what I had to do. And I will keep doing that, until Umbrella is buried.” That had been your vow, all those months ago. As you lay in a hospital bed, clutching a dog tag that would be all that remained of the man you considered a father. You’d lost sight of that goal, and the world had reminded you of it now. So, you looked at the computer screen in front of you, at the image of the base there. Your chance, not to make it right, but to strike a blow. “That’s all that matters.” 

And to these men who would be your commanders, who would now dispatch you across the globe, hunting your targets, that was enough. 

⧫⧫⧫

Hours passed, and still there were no answers. No justifications for why everyone had been taken back to their rooms, but it was all too clear to Leon that something had happened. The guards - rigid even on a good day - had been tight-jawed and tense as they’d guided Leon and the others towards their rooms. Something was wrong, because it seemed like something was always wrong, now. 

The only question was: what?

That night, he was allowed to imagine just how wrong things were. By the time their cell doors were opened again, the worst possible scenarios had flooded his mind, memories amplified by a sudden and gruesome abundance of imagination. It didn’t amount to the horrors he feared. There was no attack. No undead. 

All Leon was greeted with was a pair of eyes framed by glasses, set in the aging face of the man who’d ruined his life. “Agent Kennedy, if you’ll come with me, please.” 

Agent Kennedy.

He was an agent now, wasn’t he? He’d passed his final test. He was theirs to send wherever they pleased. 

Him and you, it seemed, because you stood just behind the agent, and you weren’t alone. Hellman, Dina and Valeria were there too, each of them looking like the hangman had called their names. Not you, though. You were stone, as you so often were.

Even with a handprint bruised onto your throat. 

Leon felt sick to his stomach as he saw the mark, the skin on your throat turned a dark purple from the pressure of someone's grasp. He’d worn a bruise to match after Raccoon City, courtesy of the silent monster that had stalked him that night. That had come too close to killing him too many times. 

That handprint had been larger than a human’s hand, though. The one on your throat could have belonged to anyone. Who then? Who had hurt you? Who had done this to you? 

There were no answers to be found from Benford, who simply gestured for Leon to follow, before pausing a moment. “And if you may . . .” he held up his other hand, one that had been clenched at his side. One that, as his fingers uncurled, Leon realized held little plaques. Three sets of two, linked by chains, numbers and letters stamped into the metal. Three sets of two, and one chain that linked three plaques, the name REYNOLDS clear to Leon’s eye, just as your name was. 

Their dog tags. 

Benford was collecting them. 

For a moment, Leon felt fear surge through him. With the group gathered before him, he worried that the feelings present among the group had finally been laid bare. He worried that, at last, their luck had run out and their places in STRATCOM had been taken as punishment. 

As he hesitated, Benford spoke a clarification. One he sounded solemn about. “You’ll get them back when you return.” 

“Return from where?” Leon felt numb even asking the question. 

Benford didn’t look any more pleased as he took a breath in, but Leon saw your expression shift. You didn’t look up from the empty space you stared off into, but your eyes darkened all the same as the agent answered. “I’ll explain elsewhere, but . . . you have a target.”

A target. 

A mission. 

His first. 

And wherever you were all going, your identities couldn’t follow. 

He had little choice, so did as he was told and reached up to his neck. A moment later, his name was pressed down beside yours and those of his friends, hidden from view as Benford closed his fist around them. 

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Tag List: @greywardensaywhat @torchbearerkyle

[mychoombatheroomba]

ARCANE SEASON 2 SPOILERS BENEATH THE CUT

If I had a nickel for every time in media I like, a sad gay with floppy emo hair was betrayed and hurt by their grief-stricken, beret-wearing commanding officer/lover, I'd have two nickels. Not a lot, but weird that it happened twice.

[mychoombatheroomba]

I can’t express in words how much I love your ongoing leon fic😭 ♥️♥️♥️♥️

GUH THANK YOU SO MUCH I feel bad I've been taking a lil break from writing it lately, but I wanna make it as good as I possibly can! Thank you so much for reading it! It's a big lad, so I always always am honored when I see people going through the whole thing! ❤

[mychoombatheroomba]

“The training, the punishing missions nearly killed me”

[mychoombatheroomba]

On the one hand, I'm devastated and do not want to write at all.

On the other, if Project 2025 goes into full effect it could deadass inhibit me from finishing Between the Bones and my other silly little projects because it would criminalize porn in the US (among many other terrifying things).

So I gotta lock in out of spite, I guess.

[mychoombatheroomba]

Gang . . . I was gonna try and write more this week to make up for the literal void of content I've produced but um

Looked at how the election is going and that ain't happening for a while.

[mychoombatheroomba]

ALSO GO VOTE

[mychoombatheroomba]

can my goddamn story please just write itself ❤️

[mychoombatheroomba]

[mychoombatheroomba]

The Enemy of My Enemy

Between the Bones (Leon x GN! Reader) - Chapter 54

An unexpected ally gives you some insight, and the hunt begins.

(Cross-posted from Ao3)

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Chapter Index

After Raccoon City, in those first weeks of training - before he’d properly met you even - Leon had found a numbing comfort in routine. Wake up. Train. Eat. Train some more. A schedule had helped him. It broke up the day into predictable steps. In this facility they were in, wherever it was, there was no such luxury. Days after the interrogations and still, Leon was unable to leave his room without supervision. He ate there, slept there and tried to find a way to keep himself sane there. Easier said than done. The days fogged into one continuous expanse, each one longer than the last. 

Habit led him to train in the room’s limited space. Krauser had taught them enough that even four concrete walls and a shitty bed could become a usable work room. Still, there were only so many push-ups he could do before his mind started to wander. 

Didn’t matter if his eyes were opened or closed, now. He could see them. All of them. 

Marvin and Ada and the rest of the lives lost in Raccoon City had company. Uninvited, their memories made those four concrete walls their home too, stuffing in around Leon and suffocating him. Too many bodies. Too many faces he would never forget. 

Alejandro, staring into the dark sky in shock. 

Doc, his face torn and barely recognizable. 

Alenko, his eyes pleading and pained right up until-

You. Leon thought of your face just as much as he sat in that room. He thought of the smiles he’d coaxed out of you over months and months together. The way your eyes, normally, would soften when they turned his way. 

He thought of how you hadn’t even looked at him as you’d passed him in that hallway. 

Those were the thoughts he was stuck with for days. Right up until the door opened at last and Leon was ushered out of that little prison cell. He was marched down the hallway, falling in line behind a familiar friend, her broad shoulders bowed with the weight of the world. 

“Dina,” Leon said, his voice soft with wounded hope. 

Williams, for her part, managed a small smile as she looked back at him. “Hey, Kennedy.” 

More cells were opened. More of their squad joined them in the line-up. Valeria, Doc’s assistant, Grayson . . . and, of course, you were there, towards the other end of the line. Leon didn’t get more than a glimpse of you before you fell into formation. No, instead, it was Krauser’s eyes that caught his own. The Major was pulled from a cell just like the rest of them. His gaze passed over you, a direct omission. Instead, it fell on Leon. An accident, the younger man was certain, and one that betrayed too many emotions Leon had never thought to see on Krauser's face.  

Exhaustion. Pain. Rage. Leon saw it all as plain as day. 

He could sympathize. 

The contact was over in a moment, and Krauser filed in, Hellman joining from his cell last. 

All of the survivors. All that was left. 

“What’s going on?” The question was whispered to Williams as they began moving. 

She didn’t have an answer for him. 

He didn’t have to wait long for one. 

Benford was waiting for them in the room they all filed into, his glasses reflecting the fluorescent lights overhead. When he told them all to take a seat, Leon couldn’t help but feel he’d stepped into some strange new world as Major Krauser obeyed alongside everyone else. A world where everything was wrong - somehow turned upside-down and inside-out and even worse than he thought it could be. 

The only thing that seemed right was the moment Benford confirmed what he’d known in his heart. 

“Agent Andrew Reed is our chief suspect for the recent attack.” The air changed, then. How could it not, when a room was full of attack dogs that had finally been given a scent to go after? “Our intelligence has tracked him as far as Russia, but beyond that, we don’t know where he is.” 

Russia. Reed hadn’t just slipped away, he’d all but disappeared. Vanished. There would be no justice for what he’d done while he was there. 

“Then send us out.” Krauser spoke with a snarl. “We’ll have him in a week.” 

Benford’s expression was sympathetic, but his answer was predictable. It wouldn't be that simple. “We can’t sanction sending you all into Russia. Not on a wild goose chase. If we can find a more clear course-”

“Every day,” Krauser stood, “every minute we sit here and wait, that bastard has time to hide. To call all his friends in Umbrella and get protection. If we don’t move now-”

“I’m aware, Major,” Benford said, his tone cool. Even. Same as always with these suits. Bastards that they were. It had crossed Leon’s mind more than once in the past few days that he couldn’t trust Benford any more than he could trust Reed. That didn’t change the fact that the man in front of them all held their leashes, whoever might be holding Benford’s in turn. “We are moving as fast as we can. The moment we find anything, we will act on it.” 

That was all they were given, along with the freedom to roam the facility they were in now. A freedom that rang hollow as you were all dismissed and you slipped out of the room like smoke through fingertips. 

He could have chased after you. He almost did. 

Instead, he let you be. Leon would do all he could do. 

He would wait.

⧫⧫⧫

Sunlight bleeding into darkness. Blunted steel. Moves and countermoves. 

It was uncanny how so many familiar things could feel alien to you. That was all down to the man holding the other knife. Hellman moved differently from any of the other STRATCOM recruits. Different training. You’d seen some of his skills shared in Reed’s style, when you’d assisted him in training. That was the reason you’d sought the agent out. Well, one of a few. 

The other two reasons . . . you’d avoided them since Derek C. Simmons turned their names into weapons. Krauser and Leon, for their parts, had done the same. Had they been threatened too? You wouldn’t be surprised. Didn’t matter. Just like the comfort you longed for in Leon’s arms didn’t matter - the way you wanted to go to him. To pray that he didn’t hate you for what you’d done. Just like the questions you had for Krauser didn’t matter - the way you wished you could understand why he’d risked so much to protect you. Even if some part of you knew. That didn’t matter. Right now, only the knife across from you did.

You suspected Hellman had reasons of his own for agreeing to this. Shame, most likely. Good. You hoped he felt shame every time you managed to slip your knife past his defenses. 

Let him feel over and over again the cost of carelessness. 

Bruises were the best teachers, weren’t they?

Over the last few days, you’d had plenty to learn from the agent as well. Now, you were pulling your knife back as he pressed a counter-cut down where you’d gone to attack. Fast, just like Reed was. Calculating, too. Good at thinking a few moves ahead. He kept catching you in the same patterns. Old habits you’d fallen into since your injury. 

“You’re protecting your ribs more than anything,” Hellman pointed out. His notes weren’t as welcome as Krauser’s. You would take them, but not without biting back. 

“Someone broke them, remember?” It might get under his skin, childish as it was. Maybe guilt would make him sloppy. You hoped it would. Guilt likely wouldn’t work on Reed when you found him, but right now? You would settle for hurting Hellman in his stead. 

It nearly worked, too, as the agent just barely batted your attack away, a followup to a series of feints. Chest, leg, chest. Hellman stayed in place, trying to grab your arm. To run his knife up in a move that would have filleted the flesh from your bone. Your knee driving upward into his stomach stopped him. The knife dropped from your right to your left, stabbing towards his gut. Another near miss. 

You had him on the defensive.

“I shouldn’t have let him-”

“What?” you pressed, trailing after him. Each slash, each thrust, you paired with sharpened words to match. “Shouldn’t have let him break my bones? Cripple our soldiers? Poison an entire base of people?” 

Hellman’s skills as a fighter were all that saved him from bruising blows with your practice blade, and even as he managed to slash at your arm in a riposte, you kept advancing. Kept forcing him up against the wall of the facility that now housed you. 

You knew better than most how a cornered animal could fight, though. 

Krauser had often warned you not to let your feelings get in the way in a fight. Now, you paid the price for not listening to him and to Hellman both. Anger made you sloppy. As you blocked a high strike at your face, you realized his free hand was going low, a fist aimed at the ribs he’d just warned you about. You inhaled sharply, moving to defend with your other hand. His knife slipped around your upper defense. Yours moved in tandem. Then, you had knives at each other’s throats. 

A draw meant death, and your own stupidity had your anger rising. 

“I should have seen him for what he was,” Hellman panted, and you realized that he was feeling much the same way you were. You’d seen honesty from the agent plenty of times before, but nothing like this. Nothing so full of all-consuming remorse, because ultimately, he had been the best equipped to catch Reed before anything happened. He’d failed, and everyone else had paid the price. “I should have seen it sooner.” 

You were past the point of pity, your world reduced to red and black. So, you didn’t waver, even with a knife to your throat. “You should have,” you declared, sinking the blade of those words into Hellman’s heart. 

Your vengeance was short-lived. 

“Don’t be so hard on the agent.” You hadn’t even noticed someone approaching, you’d been so caught up in your fight. You didn’t know the voice, smooth and steady, and that made your head snap to its source. Your blunted blade fell away from Hellman and was now ready at your side. The man you found standing before you looked utterly unimpressed, the dark glasses that hid his eyes making disinterest appear effortless. Slicked back hair, a well-pressed suit . . . if not for the blond shine of that hair in the low light, you might have mistaken him for- “Reed was well-trained. You might be surprised how well Umbrella has embedded itself in the world. But perhaps you’d like to find out.” 

As if those words weren’t enough to make your grip on the knife tighten, Hellman tensed beside you. 

Tall, which meant a long reach. Not as well-muscled as Krauser, but it was hard to tell what physique hid beneath the suit jacket over the man’s shoulders. A jacket that could conceal a weapon as well. 

“Who the hell are you?” Hellman asked, his eyes narrowed.

Thin lips curled up before the strange man spoke. “An interested party. One with knowledge of use to you.” 

Not CIA. And anyone with knowledge of worth- 

“You’re with Umbrella.” The accusation was spat from your lips, your body thrumming with potential energy. The promise of violence, even as the man stood perfectly still and straight before you. 

His smile only widened. “Interesting theory.”

"How else would you have any knowledge of use?"

There was a moment of thought, the man choosing his words carefully. "Umbrella has outlived its usefulness. You and your government aren't the only ones interested in seeing it dismantled." 

You didn't have time to question what the hell that could mean. “Then you’ll have no problems coming in for questioning,” Hellman stepped forward, a warning buried shallowly beneath his words. 

“On the contrary,” the blond man tilted his head, “you won’t be taking me in, agent. You can have the information I’m offering, and you can determine what the cost of that information will be.” 

There were security cameras. Guards . . . and that hadn’t stopped this man from getting here. It hadn’t stopped him from not only finding this facility, but breaching its defenses seemingly unnoticed. You took a steadying breath, your muscles coiling, trying to put a plan together in your mind.

“I can’t let you leave,” Hellman said. “Not if you know what you claim you do.” 

The man took a breath, then sighed it out.

You knew when a fight was coming. You could feel the shift in the air. 

Even so, you never stood a chance. 

Not when the man, who had been a good ten paces away one moment was in front of you the next. Your knife arced up, your free hand moving to a defensive position, and none of it mattered when a hand closed around your throat, the force of it making you sputter.

No time to react. No time to question. 

You saw Hellman move, but a kick sent him flying back against the wall. Your air supply cut off, your only option was the blunted blade in your hand. One that you aimed straight for the dark lenses of the man holding you-

Only for him to catch it by the steel and, all while looking at you with a smug smirk, he squeezed. Your eyes widened as you watched the metal bend like dough beneath his grip, and then those same eyes bulged as his other hand tightened at your throat. You kicked as you were lifted easily off the ground, your free hand beating against his arm, terror setting in as your vision blurred. 

He could snap your neck like a toothpick. 

He could and would.

“I’ve wasted enough time talking,” the man said, looking down at Hellman as he held you, oblivious to your struggles. Kicks that landed like hammer blows on most did nothing to move him. 

You could die here, after everything, unless-

He let the bent knife go, then reached into his pocket. He pulled something small from it. Indiscernible in your wavering state of consciousness, your grip on his wrist tightening as you gasped for air. “Take this,” he said, tossing it at Hellman's feet. “Make good use of it.” 

Just as the world was about to go black, just as you felt your grip on his arm loosening, air rushed to you and you were falling. 

"You will need every soldier you can get." 

The ground met you without remorse and you grasped at your throat, coughing and sucking in air desperately. “Sergeant!” you heard Hellman, calling for you. Footsteps and scrambling against the dirt. Your perception was all hazy images and dying light, but you were alive. 

Still alive. 

Of course you were. 

Of fucking course you were. 

You forced yourself up, your arms full of pins and needles as you moved. You saw the warped remains of your knife, and empty space where the man had once stood. Too late. Not that it would have made a difference. You never could have won that fight. At most, you would have cost him a few seconds from his time to escape. He’d done what he’d come to do.

It lay in the dirt, sealed in a protective case. A little piece of what looked like plastic, wrapped around metal. Information, he’d said.

Information that a man who could crush steel in his hand was willing to give up. 

There was no doubt in your mind; that man had been a creation of Umbrella, in some way shape or form. He knew Reed at least by name. He was setting you all after something. Something he didn’t want to handle himself. 

Another player in a game you had no control over. Another person who’d taken your life quite literally in their hands without a thought or care. You were just a piece on the board. Always had been.

All it left you with, as your lungs finally refilled with air, was more anger. More rage. If this was what the world was? How your life shaped up to be? Fine. So long as you had something to sink your teeth into. 

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Chapter Index

A/N:

Wesker: Don’t go picking a fight with me. I could make your life difficult. Sarge, sarcastically: Wow. I wonder what it’d be like to have a difficult life.

You know I had to get the third blond freak in there somehow. Anyway I hope you enjoyed your mandatory dose of Deus ex Wesker, he will probably not be back lol. Literary structure can kiss my ass for this cameo in particular (meaning I know this is shoehorned in but ya know what, in the spirit of Resident Evil's goofiness, I kept the idea).

Anyway, APOLOGIES for the literal month this chapter took me to post, I was moving this last month! It was a lot of work but I'm very happy with my new place! Happy enough that I immediately left on a vacation - so I've been a little busy as of late. In any case, we're coming up on the end of this story here and I'm so so excited to finally write all the craziness I have in mind! Thank you all of you for your patience, hope you enjoy the end of the ride (and will follow me into the sequel when I get to it!)

Also, fun fact, apparently Wesker dropping off a flash drive could have happened if he's got cutting edge tech, the USB flash drive was invented in April of 1999! Bro absolutely stole the design for that. What a menace.

Tag List: @greywardensaywhat

[mychoombatheroomba]

Ok this is fucking incredible

Storyboard sequence I made from the video game "Baldur's Gate 3"!! Love Karlach.

[mychoombatheroomba]

Almost 2 minutes of Krauser going absolutely ham to Rihanna (sound on for the full vibes)