#idc if it’s fandom or original

[gaybutterflynerd]

That feeling of wanting to sink your teeth into a good ass series made of pure passion and brainrot.

[god-i-hope-so]

Pretty tired of seeing adult characters being infantilized. Do it in fics and your hcs if you want to, but stop treating them as if adults shouldn't show emotions and be vulnerable, especially men, and then complain that them acting like actual adults is OOC. So many young people are unable to see a grown man show his tears, his frustrations (other than by punching walls and people), or any emotion, really, without being reduced to a little fragile thing that has to be protected.

When I see Buck and his raw nature, and how he's so often infantilized (and I don't mean in a fun way, because of course he's a cutie), it removes his adulthood and his growth from the narrative and, yes, encourages ageism in real life. Buck is 32. He's an adult man with emotions he doesn't always hide and it doesn't make him act younger. Same goes for any man on the show, especially those who fans find cute.

Yes, Buck is flirting with Tommy and makes sexual innuendos as an adult who knows what he's doing. And no, it's not OOC, you just deaged and sanitized him so much in your head that him acting like he's been acting on the show since season 1 is shocking you for no reason except your own doings in your head. And even if he's just expressing his desire with a funny choice of words and phrasing, he's not a little kitty trying to be saucy. It's a grown man feeling sexual desire and attraction for another person. It's very simple, but also very normal for an allosexual person. We've seen him do that for 6 seasons, and he'll keep on doing it until the end. It's Buck.

[peepoo79]

Cringe-ass American Psycho AU under cut 👁️👁️

Anyway as I previously alluded to, this mf silly ass idea has been in my brain for a while. Fuck it. Hospital AU. Been watching too much House MD lately. Anyway:

Patrick Bateman:

General surgery. Graduated Harvard medical school. Tried to match into plastic surgery but didn’t make the cut. Didn’t make the cut for cardiothoracic surgery either. Ended up settling for general surgery.

Went into medicine because doctors make a lot of money and have a lot of status. Probably wouldn’t have gotten through medical school if it weren’t for the connections is father has—nepotism at its finest. His father is on the board of directors for the hospital he works at—his last name, unfortunately, keeps him out of a LOT of trouble.

Horrific bedside manner. He’s attempted to sleep with patients on multiple occasions (and succeeded several times), has had countless malpractice lawsuits thrown at him, and frequently leaves his patients feeling uncomfortable. Has been known to purposefully under-anesthetize patients and recommend completely unnecessary procedures just because he’s bored.

That being said, his behavior with patients varies WILDLY. He’s on good behavior if he perceives his patient as being of high status (still unintentionally makes them uncomfortable, but only because he is trying SO HARD to make them like him that it backfires. Think the Tom Cruise elevator interaction from the book. That sort of behavior). However, if they fall into the category of people Patrick regards as “lesser,” the difference is stark. He tends to take his anger out on these sorts of patients.

Still a sadistic bastard. Unfortunately, his job allows him pretty easy access to inflicting agony on unwilling subjects and getting away with it. In some ways, he’s a lot more flagrant with his unacceptable behavior than he is in the source material. Perks of being in a profession like surgery I guess.

Treats the nurses terribly, has slept with a lot of them.

Only reason he hasn’t gotten fired is, once again, nepotism. Seriously, this guy sucks

Jean:

Registered nurse, works under Patrick.

Is aware that Patrick is not favored by his patients. Unaware of the extent of his depravity.

Poor girl needs a hug :(

Despite the shit she’s regularly put through (dealing with patients, dealing with Patrick, dealing with his equally insufferable colleagues), still manages to keep a mostly positive attitude.

Originally wanted to go to medical school but didn’t like the idea of having to spend so much of her youth in school. Decided on nursing—she felt that she could make a better positive impact doing that, anyway.

Paul Owen:

Graduated from Yale. Plastic Surgeon. Has his own practice but occasionally gets called in to the hospital the others work at to handle trauma cases.

Everything Patrick wanted to be. Has everything Patrick wanted to have—rich and beautiful clientele, a flexible work schedule, social prestige.

Well liked by his colleagues and his patients. Actually treats the nurses and other staff well.

Tim Price:

Cardiothoracic surgeon. Went to medical school with Patrick.He’s the closest thing to a friend Patrick has—they were roommates throughout med school

Patrick seems to almost look up to him in a way—probably because in his mind, he’s “higher status”and more successful.

Arrogant but generally tolerated by his colleagues.

Has slept with a lot of the nurses. By extension, has made a lot of enemies out of the nurses.

Completely unaware of Bateman’s…issues. He doesn’t think he’d have the spine to do anything too absurd, despite the malpractice lawsuits Bateman regularly complains to him about (thinks the patients are just trying to get money out of him, probably)

Still not a very nice guy, he says a lot of shit about his patients behind their backs that’s DEFINITELY a violation of doctor-patient confidentiality

Evelyn Richards:

Pharmaceutical sales rep. Met Patrick shortly after he graduated med school, went for him because he’s young, handsome, and has disposable income.

Comes from an already wealthy family.

Still having an affair with Price.

Squeamish—won’t let Patrick talk about any of the work he does. So much as the mention of a scalpel and she’s nauseous. Obviously, Patrick makes it a point to describe his cases in graphic detail because if this.

Courtney Lawrence

In administration. Also unaware of Patrick’s fuckass behavior.

Still dating Luis. Still cheating on Luis with Patrick.

Honestly, not much to change for her

Luis Carruthers

Psychiatrist. Frequently feels a bit left out since the others don’t regard him as a “real doctor”

Still very infatuated with Patrick

Liked by his patients, but regarded as a bit dense by his colleagues

Well liked by the nurses—occasionally brings in baked goods for them! One of the only ones out of the group that actually shows his appreciation for the non-MD members of the hospital staff

David Van Patten

Orthopedic surgeon, arrogant and jockish.

Went to med school because he was pressured into it by his family. Went into ortho because he thought it was “easiest”

Craig McDermott

ENT specialist. “Friends” with Patrick, although most of their interactions are petty squabbles and constant attempts at one-upping the other

Takes pride in his work, but mainly because he makes a lot of money. In medicine for basically the same reasons as Patrick, but is, y’know….normal about it.

Anyway that’s all I’ve got for now. This is super duper self indulgent LMAO

[katiekatdragon27]

Fuck you @/rainbow-wolf120 anyways hello Rayman fandom🧍.

Every time I draw my line art style just gets more and more complicated💀😭.

Guess who gained a new interest to stick on the wall?? That's right! Me~~~~!

So, I have this very unhealthy habit of choosing favorites that never get fanart ever. In this case, Goth Teensy (my pookie💖) and Romeo.

Some info and progress photos under cut:

My sibling indoctrinated me into this fandom, and I should have seen all the signs but my fixation on GT rn is too much for my ape brain to see though. (First a fanfic about GT that is eerily characterized close to me, then forcing me to endure CLH twice (it's not that bad), then being nice to me while playing Origins, then being there while I played Rayman 3, then wrote a story about GT together that's in the works lol).

Anyways, I have a sort-of interpretive version of the tennsys lol. They remind me of Moomins, so I gave them tails lol. Also, the amount of "nightmare" magic a teensy uses determines hair growth and fluffiness.

Since this is based in our AU origins story where Goth Teensy turned into a nightmare during his formative years, he's a purple fluffy teensy. Romeo is a regular nightmare magic user (Livid Dead resident), so he's fluffier than the average teensy and is able to maintain a head of hair lol.

(Ales fits in this too, but he can't keep his hair cuz his magic is super weak and embarrassing L Bozo.)

Romeo is Goth's babysitter-sorta-found-family-adoptive-brother. When Goth isn't in the lower levels of the Livid Dead (where all the nightmares are), he's with Romeo doing gardenwork, learning about the Glade, or just practicing his magic with someone who can coach him properly. They both listen to rock a lot too.

Have a nice day jahombres.

[heatherchasesyou]

And be a simple kind of man

Oh, be something you love and understand

Baby, be a simple kind of man

Oh, won't you do this for me son, if you can?

[savage-rhi]

Duality

Chapter 12: The Other Side

Summary: Sawyer Kiddo has walked a razor's edge as a hacktivist for several years, driven by the loss of her family in the Raccoon City incident. Haunted by past choices and fueled with desire for vigilante justice, Sawyer's work takes an unexpected turn when she ventures to Spain and crosses paths with Luis Serra—a man with blood on his hands long thought to be dead. Together they unravel a web of corruption and face an impending bioterror threat, fighting not only monsters but also the darker elements of their humanity. As they delve deeper into each other's pasts and the conspiracy at large, Sawyer begins to sense something unsettling about Luis—something that might be even more dangerous than their mutual enemies.

Read on AO3 Here

Blink. 

"Why can't you be more like Carmen?" 

Sawyer had heard it a dozen times growing up. Over the years, it had become her mother's catchphrase—a weapon to discipline and guilt trip easily. Every stumble, every failure was laid out for judgment, carefully measured against her cousin's successes.

It was never Carmen's fault. Sawyer had always known that. Their families had written their narratives long ago, casting each girl in roles neither had chosen, and Sawyer tried—she really tried—not to resent it. She didn't hold it against her parents, not even while they looked at her with disdain and disappointment, but tonight, it felt different. The words that once just scraped now felt like they were digging deep, rubbing salt in wounds that never had the chance to heal. She felt the weight of every time she felt short, and every time she wasn't enough.

"I'm not Carmen," Sawyer enunciated bitterly. "Unfortunately, you got stuck with me. You might as well say the quiet part out loud." 

"Sawyer, that's not—" Her dad pinched the bridge of his nose, the same look he always gave her when he didn't know what to say or was too tired to keep trying. "Soy, you need to get it together."

"I was trying to get it together!" 

"By getting arrested? You call that getting it together?!" Her mother's tone was hoarse, eyes red from earlier tears, but her gaze wouldn't soften.

"Now, hon—"

"Don't hon me!" Her eyes stared daggers straight into her husband's. "She's lucky your brother Pax knows people at the RPD because of his janitor job at Umbrella! Do you realize that? Your daughter will have this on her record for the rest of her life!"

"Community service isn't that bad," Sawyer shrugged. "It beats sitting in jail."

"Jail is where you're heading if you keep this up!" her mother countered, hands flinching as she gripped the kitchen top. "Don't act like this is nothing!"

"Hey, I'm accepting the consequences of my actions, okay? What else do you want from me?"

Her dad stepped forward. "Sawyer, you're 21 years old."

"Yes, and?" 

"Kiddo…"

Sawyer shrunk into her seat.

She swallowed her words like a five-year-old caught scribbling all over the walls of the living room. She hated how years later, as an adult, his voice could still reduce her to nothing. 

"Your mom and I don't ask for much, except you get an education and stay out of trouble. But these past couple of years? It's like you can't even manage that. You were in community college full-time, and now, barely part-time, you're always in between jobs; why aren't you taking this seriously?"

"I'm doing my—"

"Don't even start," her dad interrupted. "Carmen's been employed since you both graduated. Your uncle Pax tried to get you the same job, and you declined, and your aunt Tori? She practically handed you that receptionist position on a silver platter, and still nothing. I don't understand it, Soy. Every time you're given a handout, it's like you're too proud to take it."

Carmen again. It always came back to Carmen.

Sawyer could feel the lump rising in her throat, but she swallowed it. "My odd jobs were helping me cover—"

"You mean your smuggling jobs?" her mother interrupted. 

Sawyer scoffed. "You're not letting me finish!"

"Why should we?" her mother balked. "After everything you've done, how can we trust you?"

"We never have money!" Sawyer yelled, the words ripping out of her like they'd been trapped for too long. "We never have anything! Don't you get it? That's why I dropped to part-time. I couldn't afford the tuition anymore, and we all know you can't afford it either! That's why I did what I did. That's why I didn't want to take those jobs Pax and Tori offered; it would keep me trapped here; they don't pay jack shit! I've been scraping together every penny I can to return to full-time and get a damn career! I don't want to be stuck here like you! I'm tired of being poor!"

"Committing crimes isn't going to get you ahead, Soy." Her father's tone was gentler now, but the disappointment remained.

"I know it bit me in the ass, and I know I fucked up, but—"

"But nothing!" her mother's voice rose louder than the storm in Sawyer's chest. "Are you seriously trying to justify yourself?"

"I'm not! Please, let me explain how I can-!" 

Seconds later, Sawyer's voice was extinguished, drowned out by her parents. Accusations flew, with words twisted into daggers aimed straight at things that hurt the most. It didn't matter how far she clawed through the dirt; Sawyer knew she wouldn't get a final say.

"It's not just about the weird music, the bailouts, or any of that! She's always with strange men. It's been like this since high school! God knows what else she's doing for money!"

Sawyer clenched her jaw at the insinuation. It was always like this—they feared the worst and assumed even worse. She wasn't going to explain herself, not when they wouldn't hear her out or didn't want to know her, the real her.

"Look, we're both upset, but we can't shame her for doing what normal twenty-somethings do. They have desires just like we did once." 

"But we weren't selling ourselves for money, Daniel!" 

"Maybe you should've had Carmen for a daughter instead," Sawyer spat, shattering the tension like glass, the bitterness curling in her throat like smoke as she finished. "Or even your dead son."

Her parents turned toward her, shock on their faces like she'd hit them both in the gut. Her mother's face twisted into something ugly and wounded, a fury rising in her eyes.

"It's too late to change that."

Sawyer's breath caught in her throat.

"Hon," her father's hand jerked, but it was enough. Her mother cringed as her expression faltered, regret dimming the anger behind her eyes. 

Sawyer made a fist so tight her nails bit into her palm. Finally, they said it—the truth.

She stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor like nails on a chalkboard. She grabbed her pack of cigarettes from the table, stuffing them angrily into her pocket. With shaking hands, she zipped her jacket and headed for the door. 

"Soy, wait—"

"Never thought I'd say this, but fuck both of you." Sawyer gulped, betraying the tears already burning behind her eyes. She paused at the door, her back to them, shoulders tight with pain. "I love you, but—" 

She left before the tears could spill over, immediately power-walking to get as far away as possible.

"I need to wake up. I need to wake the fuck up."

Blink. 

"Thanks for taking the heat," Carmen murmured. She offered a weak smile as Sawyer handed her a beer, but her fingers hesitated around the bottle's neck, too heavy with guilt to open it. "I'm sorry—"

"You have nothing to apologize for," Sawyer said confidently, her eyes narrowing slightly as if daring Carmen to disagree. "Even if you got busted and I slipped away, they'd still blame me. I'm the bad influence, remember? The problem kid."

Carmen's shoulders drooped. "It's not fair. It's never been fair," she whispered, the frustration of years unraveling in the quiet of her voice. "Maybe I can go down to the police station and—"

"No." Sawyer shook her head as her eyes softened. "What happened, happened. No one expected an undercover cop. You need to let this go. We screwed up and paid the price in our own ways. You still want to be a teacher, right?"

"I do…"

"Well, no place is gonna let you near kids if you have a record. You're lucky. You still have a future."

"What about your future?" Carmen asked, glancing up with an almost pleading look.

Sawyer took a long, slow sip from her beer, her eyes distant. "Pardon?"

"College. What happens to you now?"

Sawyer laughed. "I'll do my community service. Then I'll find some nine-to-five gig and save up. I'm good with computers; maybe I'll get a decent tech job and work up the ranks. College, well...I'll go back eventually. Somebody's gotta give me a chance again."

"You're the smart one," Carmen sighed, almost to herself. "You shouldn't be stuck like this."

Sawyer smirked and nudged Carmen's shoulder. "Hey, I might've teased you about aunt Tori dropping you on your head, but you're every bit as smart as me. Come on, between the two of us, you have the charm."

Carmen shook her head, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Yeah, but you're the one with all the plans ."

Sawyer chuckled, watching Carmen absently pet Abner, her lab retriever, who lay half-asleep by her feet. "If I could sleep like that, I'd be in heaven."

"If you slept that deep, you'd be dead," Carmen muttered.

"You worry too much," Sawyer teased, but her voice carried a hint of weariness now, a slight tremor that Carmen caught as she swallowed hard.

"I'm scared, Sawyer. I don't want to be stuck because of our stupid mistakes like my mom and dad or your parents."

Sawyer's smile faded, but her tone remained steady. "I told you. I'm going to take care of us. I've got it covered." 

Carmen stared at her, the fear in her eyes still there, unspoken. "You always say that."

"And when have I ever let us down?"

"Never," Carmen whispered with a smile.

"Exactly. I'm gonna fix this. I'm gonna fix this my way. Just watch."

Carmen sighed. "Sawyer, you need to wake up."

Blink. 

Sawyer bit the inside of her lip, staring blankly at her email. The inbox flooded with messages from her family, Carmen included. Each unread subject line felt like a rock pressing down on her back. How are you? Are you okay? Why haven't you called? They all blurred together as the mouse hovered over each one and sent it to a private folder on the screen.

She paused momentarily, eyes darting to the calendar hanging beside her bookshelf. 

September 22nd, 1998. 

When had summer slipped away...? 

Sawyer glanced back at the emails, her heart too heavy to open them—yet the longer she waited, the more it hurt to do nothing.

She'd done her time in solitude, getting her shit together like her dad always told her to. For herself, for Carmen. 

She'd call them tomorrow. 

She'd pick up Carmen after.

They'd both would turn a new page.

It's time to stop running and wake up...

Blink. 

"We lost our insurance today," Sawyer sighed. "I think there's only five sessions left that I can afford out of pocket unless we get something from that suit with Umbrella."

Carmen's hollow stare had grown colder with each passing second. Her once bright eyes were vacant, barely acknowledging the world around her. It was day four of the hunger strike, and the untouched plate of rice on the kitchen table made Sawyer uneasy.

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to speak through the knot in her throat.

"There's a survivors' group about half an hour from here," Sawyer said tentatively. She nudged Carmen's plate, hoping for a response. "It might help, y'know? Since therapy hasn't been working, maybe being around people who understand what happened—"

Before she could finish, Carmen's hand slammed onto the table, dishes crashing to the floor. Then came the slap. It wasn't hard, but the sting of it left Sawyer reeling as she immediately grabbed Carmen's wrists, desperately trying to calm her. She watched her cousin's eyes become crazed, full of rage and something even more wrenching—despair.

Carmen snarled and writhed, attempting to throw Sawyer off. 

"Carmen, stop! Please! It's okay! Carmen, stop! Stop! Stop it! Stop!"

Then suddenly, she went still. Tears spilled down her cheeks, a broken sob tearing from her throat as she whined.

"I know, I know, hey, hey...it's okay," Sawyer whispered, pulling back as Carmen collapsed into herself.

Sawyer wanted to reach out and embrace her, but the space between them felt too vast like a chasm neither could cross. All she could do was watch Carmen's face crumple, more tears staining her cheeks.

At the very least, she offered a hand. 

"Hey, c'mon...it's okay,"

"I'm sorry...I wish I were dead," Carmen muttered, shaking her head. Then, barely audible, she whispered, "I wish you were dead. I wish it would've been you. I miss my mom. I miss uncle Dan. I miss Abner."

Sawyer was too shocked to notice Carmen getting up, muttering something about going for a walk. She didn't even hear the door click when Carmen finally fled. 

I wish you were dead.

I wish you were

I wish you

I wish

I wish you would wake up.

Blink 

The cabinet door creaked open, and there they were—bottles lined up neatly, their promises of escape whispering to her. Sawyer reached for one without thinking, the familiar burn of alcohol beckoning her to have a taste. 

Her fingers shook as she twisted off the cap.

There was no need for a glass. The bottle of whiskey was dinner, just like it would be breakfast and lunch.

As she swallowed gulp after gulp, only one thing went through her mind:

I don't want to wake up...

Blink. 

The scent of freshly ground beans wrapped around her nose, but it did little to chase away her nerves. The warm cup in her hands was a poor substitute for something to lean on to keep her grounded.

Sawyer never thought attending those stupid meetings would lead to anything other than awkward silence and a waste of two hours on a Saturday, yet here she was. For once, she had followed the counselor's advice: "Make a friend." 

Maybe it was the alcohol still buzzing in her veins, or maybe, just maybe, she was feeling something close to ease as she sat across from Samuel, the widow. He'd found her antics amusing, especially when the local pastor paid his visits to preach about "finding god" after losing loved ones to the undead.

They'd met only a week ago, but she spilled her thoughts to him like they were old friends. He was so easy to talk to, and it scared her how genuine he was. 

Samuel pulled Sawyer from her wandering thoughts. The familiar crease between his eyes told her something more was on his mind.

"I'm sorry about what you've lost, Kiddo," his voice heavy as his slumping shoulders. 

Sawyer blinked a few times, swallowing the lump in her throat. She exhaled sharply, feigning nonchalance. "It's whatever, you know? We've all lost something. Maybe the preach had a point...we're gonna carry this crap for the rest of our lives, aren't we?"

Samuel leaned back, his mouth twitching as he tried to suppress a smirk. "That bloke was full of 'horseshit,' as you so eloquently pointed out. Mid-coughing fit , no less."

"I was such a jackass that day, wasn't I?" Sawyer snorted, not able to help it. A grin tugged at her lips.

"I'd go with 'asshole,' but you got Sonny and Joyce to laugh. They haven't smiled in weeks. That's a win in my book."

They both chuckled, but Samuel's face grew serious as their laughter subsided, his eyes searching hers while humming thoughtfully. 

"Penny for your thoughts, professor ?" she teased.

"Oh please, I'm not that handsome," Samuel smirked, but his gaze softened. "I was thinking…maybe we should do this more often. Y'know, make it a weekend ritual. After the meetings, we come here and shoot the shit. Be friends, at least."

"Friends, huh?" Sawyer tilted her head and smiled amusingly. The counselor never said anything about scaring the friend off. "We could be more than just friends if you keep buying coffee for me."

The silence that followed hung heavy, and then Samuel's hearty laugh broke through the tension, catching Sawyer off guard. 

"Yeah, I'll stick with caffeine as my main squeeze."

Sawyer rolled her eyes playfully and giggled. 

"C'mon, what does she have that I don't?" she asked, gesturing toward the cup in his hand. 

Samuel grinned, his crow's feet capturing his mischief. "For one, she makes my heart race, and I know where she's been—unlike some people."

"Asshole!" Sawyer tossed a napkin at him, but she couldn't help the laughter rippling up from her chest. "I'm flirty, but I'm not a harlot!"

"Sure, act like one." Samuel snorted.

"You would've gotten along great with my parents," Sawyer muttered with a snort, leaning back into the booth and shrugged. "I'm all bark and no bite in that department, but my offer still stands for you."

Samuel's smile softened, but his gaze didn't waver. "Maybe when you're not dying."

This wasn't right. He never said that to her, no. She could've sworn he said, "Maybe when you're not a functioning alcoholic anymore." That's how it was supposed to go. 

"Ouch," Sawyer grimaced, blinking as she tried to play out the scene. "You're never gonna get a girlfriend with that attitude." 

"Well, I landed a wife once, and you're never gonna get a boyfriend with your personality either."

She forced another laugh, but her chest felt heavier now. She couldn't smell the coffee anymore. The cafe and all the people inside felt like they were somewhere else, in a fog she couldn't conceptualize.  

"All the more reason why we should be friends, right?"

Samuel leaned forward, his voice low and serious. "You need to wake up, Kiddo."

"What?"

Blink. 

She sat in a courtroom. The warmth of that moment with Sam—felt like it belonged to another life. The lights above hummed faintly, and all Sawyer could hear was the pounding of her pulse against her chest like a drum in a warzone.

Her gaze fixed on the man on the witness stand, her late uncle Pax's boss at Umbrella. His voice was mechanical as he recited the same excuses: "corporate responsibility," "miscalculations." Each empty word shredded what little remained of her patience. 

They had stolen everything from her, from Carmen. 

Sawyer's shaking hands clenched tightly at her coat pockets, fingers wrapped around the cold metal of the gun hidden within.

She could feel it anchoring her rage as the courtroom withered.

She wanted to scream and tear down the facade of a mourning niece and daughter, to make him and everyone who was under the thumb of that godforsaken company pay. 

"Wake up!"

Sawyer's head snapped up. The voices were everywhere now, loud and insistent, drowning out everything but a sharp ringing in her ears that doused the judges' screams. 

"Wake up!" 

Blink. 

Through the haze, she could make out Luis. Blood smeared his mouth, and his eyes—wild and glowing, something more than human—met hers. Fear clawed its way up to her throat as she gagged on bile. Her body refused to move away, too weak to respond. She reached out with shaky fingers, brushing his hand before darkness pulled over her eyes. 

A warmth bloomed inside her. It was foreign but strangely soothing like something deep within her clung to a final spark. When she came to, the world was coming apart around her. Luis was cradling her body in his arms, the terror in his eyes contrasting with how gentle he was being.

"I know...I know it hurts," Two Legs whispered. He lowered her onto something hard, something cold. His hands reached for her head, supporting it as he peered over her face. 

Stay awake…

"Hey...!" A broken smile stretched across his lips when her eyes fluttered open. "Hey, you..."

She had never seen anyone look so happy and relieved to see her alive. 

"Carmen…" Her cousin's name slipped out before she could stop it, no louder than a breath. It was all she had left.

Two Legs leaned closer, brow furrowed in confusion. "What?" 

He called out to her somewhere far away, a distant echo bouncing off invisible walls she couldn't see. 

"No…no, no, no!" 

Sawyer felt Luis's hands shaking in his weak grip on her. He muttered something she couldn't make out. His breaths were uneven and quick as if he was running out of time, trying to avoid death's scythe from reaping its next victim.

A hand found hers, warm and sticky with blood. 

Suddenly, pain—sharp, searing pain in her right arm. Something pierced her skin, jolting Sawyer back into awareness for a moment. She gasped. A red string went from Luis's arm to hers.

Everything went dark again. 

Realities' coldness faded, and a heat she hadn't known in years washed over her. Voices came with it, distant and muddled as if they were speaking underwater—familiar but lost.

Sawyer didn't understand any of it, but the noise calmed her. It was like hearing a lullaby one had forgotten, the memory just out of reach, but there if one had the strength to peel the layers away.  She wanted to touch those endless voices, but it wasn't needed in this place—not when she could feel every vibration like a thousand hands reaching out to greet her.

She was floating. 

A new sound appeared—faint at first. 

"The truth may be stretched thin, but it never breaks, and it always surfaces above lies, as oil floats on water."

"...For I've heard that what they call fortune is a flighty woman who drinks too much, and, what's more, she's blind, so she can't see what she's doing, and she doesn't know who she's knocking over or who she's raising up."

"I have never died all my life."

She knew that voice, knew it in her bones. 

Samuel…?

Between the lines of the text, another voice—a more profound, softer one—spoke in the spaces between. Sawyer couldn't understand words, but the tone held her, soothed her. It felt like a pull, gentle but unstoppable, tugging her away. She fought for a moment to stay—to hear the rest and hold on.

And then, just a vibration—faint, wordless, like sound without shape.

Blink. 

Blink.

Blink. 

"It's time to wake up, Kiddo." 

Sawyer's senses returned as if rising from a bottomless abyss. A blanket pressed gently against her skin, and she curled her fingers into the softness beneath her, grounding herself. Her eyes, unfocused at first, settled on her hand resting across the mattress.

Her skin looked paler than she remembered, and the glint of an IV needle buried in her vein caught Sawyer's attention. She traced the red tube upward, following it to the unmarked blood bag beside a saline solution hanging from an IV pole. She swallowed reflexively, blinking to clear her vision further.

The attic she lay in felt impossibly distant from where she'd last been. It wasn't the cramped, dusty kind—this space was open and refurbished, with sunlight pouring in from a window so bright it hurt to look. Only the tops of distant trees were visible beyond the glare.

She shifted, wincing as the needle tugged against her hand, and glanced at the ceiling. A large net hung just above the bed, hooked from one side of the room to the other and overflowing with blankets and pillows. The material nudged to one side like a forgotten cocoon—like someone had been sleeping in it.

Wooden beams crisscrossed above her, worn smooth by time but looking recently polished, string lights draped across them. Shelves lined the far wall, cluttered with mismatched knickknacks—framed photos and old books. The air had a faint, comforting scent of citrus and lavender, like someone had tried to make the space inviting despite its makeshift feel.

Her lips twitched into a weak smile. 

Heaven…? The thought slipped into her mind, playful but fleeting. 

If heaven had IV bags and hammocks, maybe…

Her gaze drifted to a book beside the nightstand. She reached for it, then paused, feeling a strange disconnection between herself and the body she was only beginning to reclaim.

"Oye, bella durmiente!" a familiar voice called out, playful and full of mischief. "You look like crap!" (1)

"I feel like it," Sawyer groaned softly, turning her head toward Two Legs as he finished climbing a flight of stairs. "Why do you have to speak in tongues?"

Two Legs grinned, leaning against the doorframe, his eyes relieved.

"My apologies for being excited to see you..." He paused, squinting while looking her over more closely. "Ehh, mostly dead?"

"I see your tact hasn't changed," she quipped, trying to sit up further. 

"Five days isn't long enough to form a new habit, I'm afraid."

"That's how long it's been?" Sawyer blinked while a dull ache sank in her chest.

"Yeah..." Two Legs trailed off, his grin faltering as his gaze drifted to the floor. "I didn't think that you'd..." He quickly cleared his throat, hiding behind humor again as he raised a coffee cup between them. "I uh—bought you a little pick-me-up."

"Liar," Sawyer teased, though her voice staggered. "You got that for yourself. I can see it on your face—you weren't expecting me to wake up. Probably came to check if I had a pulse."

Two Legs chuckled, shrugging as though he could brush off the truth. "Caught me red-handed!" 

He walked over to the bed, the teasing glint returning to his eyes. "Although between the two of us, you need it more than I do."

Sawyer smiled. "You cut your hair down and shaved the beard off."

"How nice of you to notice." Two Legs grinned. His expression was gentle, as if her noticing something so small reminded him that things were okay again.

"How come?" 

Two Legs shrugged, his smile dimming slightly. "Eh, I got tired of rolling out of bed looking like Jesus and felt nostalgic for 2004."

Sawyer snorted, wincing at the ache it caused, but the laugh still escaped. "Relevant year?"

"You have no idea," he sighed, shaking his head before handing her the cup. His fingers lingered on the edge of it for just a second longer than necessary. "Go on."

Sawyer accepted it reluctantly, taking a small gulp. She winced, the taste strange in her mouth, lips tightening into a thin line.

"Too sweet?"

"No." Her voice was quiet, almost strained. "I can taste my blood in between my teeth. Not the best combo with coffee." 

She grimaced, shutting her eyes as a wave of nausea passed through, a slow exhale escaping her. Her gaze fell to the top of the cup while a faint smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"All it's missing is bubbles."

Two Legs raised a brow, his grin widening. "Bubbles?"

"Yeah," Sawyer said softly as if she were seeing something far away. "When I was younger, I wouldn't drink anything unless it had bubbles in it ."

Two Legs let out a small chuckle, his gaze lingering on her face. "Why?"

"I was a weird kid?" Sawyer tried to laugh with him, but the sound came out rough and uneven, her throat scratchy. The glow in her eyes faded just as quickly as it came. "Maybe it was a sensory thing. I thought they were neat to look at."

Two Legs hesitated, unsure what to say, then made a small gesture.

"Lemme see that."

Sawyer blinked, confused, but handed over the cup. She watched as he fished a straw out of his pocket and stuck it into the coffee. Her eyes narrowed, ready to protest, but then he met her gaze, something playful and tender rising there, and he blew bubbles into the drink.

Sawyer burst out in giggles despite herself. The sound filled the room. Two Legs, grinning, exaggeratedly puffed his cheeks and did it again.

The heaviness in her heart lifted for a moment, feeling as though she could breathe again.

He handed the cup back with a dramatic flourish. "Your bubbles, madam."

Sawyer's grin widened, her cheeks flushed from the laughter. It was well worth the pain that came after the fact. "You're so cliché, you know that?"

Two Legs winked, the mischievous spark in his eyes still there. "I aim to please—and you're welcome."

Sawyer winced as she tried to sit up further. Her eyes, still heavy from exhaustion, swept around the room again. "Where are we?"

"My humble abode," Two Legs smirked. He glanced between Sawyer and a worn rocking chair nearby, finally pulling it up beside the bed so he could sit. "We're in the Costa Brava region. About eight hours from Madrid, give or take."

"All this time, I thought you lived in a van," Sawyer scoffed, though it came out weaker than intended.

"Haha, good one!" he replied, trying to keep things light.

She sighed, rubbing her temples, then finished the coffee and set the empty cup aside.

"Anyway," she muttered, swinging her legs off the bed's edge and pushing herself to her feet, wincing as her legs wobbled beneath her. "Give me an hour, and I'll be gone."

"Wait, what?" Two Legs shot up from the chair, his eyes widening with concern as he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, trying to coax her back to bed. "The last thing you should be doing is running around. You're in no shape to leave. You need to take it easy."

"I can't," Sawyer whispered, almost pleading. Every part of her body screamed at her to lie back down, but she refused to listen. "I have 24 hours left to get on a plane or…you said I was out for five days, right?"

"That's right," Two Legs nodded, his brow furrowing as he hovered beside her, unsure what to do. His hands twitched as if ready to catch her if she fell. 

Sawyer's face paled. "Oh, shit..."

Two Legs swallowed hard, noticing the fear creeping into her expression, and stepped closer to try to calm her down. "I'm sure you can find another arrangement to get out of Spain."

Sawyer's shoulders slumped, and her eyes were distant as she murmured. "It's not that simple."

Two Legs frowned. "How so?"

"It's like I told you back at the hotel," Sawyer sighed. She couldn't help but recall that last night before everything went wrong—the night before she was shot. "Everything's fake. All my travel papers, documentation…and Kari, that fucking—" 

Sawyer paused, her vision swimming as she fought back a sudden wave of dizziness.

"Easy. Take another breath," Two Legs murmured, his concern hidden behind a gentle command. "VITA can still help you out, right? Even without all the paperwork they did for you?"

Sawyer's lips pressed together, frustration bouncing as she tried to focus.

"I don't know," she admitted quietly, her mind drifting back to that failed attempt to access the archives, a gnawing suspicion that Kari had sabotaged her. She swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how close Luis was, his breath warm, his face just inches from hers. She looked away, her pulse quickening for reasons she didn't want to investigate, before she winced and sank back onto the bed, her legs finally giving in.

"I've never been in a situation like this."

"I guess this means you're stranded," Two Legs replied, his relief tangible when she sat down, though his eyes were clouded.

"Yeah," Sawyer let out a weak laugh, but there was no humor in it. She caught onto the tension in his features, the worry that mirrored her own. "You seem upset?

Two Legs rubbed the back of his neck, furrowing his brow before leaning back in the creaky rocking chair. "Not at you. Just the situation, what happened back there, in Toledo."

Sawyer's face softened as she studied him. His shoulders held tension even though he attempted to appear relaxed, and his eyes wandered like he hadn't rested well in days. She wanted to ask about Kari and the complicated mess between him and her but now wasn't the time.

He looked like he was barely holding it together.

"How did you get away?" she asked instead, her voice a bit quieter, as if acknowledging the gravity of what he'd been through.

"I ran like hell," Two Legs chuckled, the kind of laugh that only came from someone trying to chase away something that still scared him. 

"Obviously, or we wouldn't be here," Sawyer grunted, trying to lighten the mood, but the reality crashed down on her as she glanced at her bandaged shoulder, packed with gauze. "Did you take me to a hospital?"

"Nope," Two Legs admitted, almost proudly, though his voice was softer now. "I, uh, pulled a MacGyver, as one might say. I broke into a medical supply facility and patched you up. The bullet skimmed an artery—it didn't go all the way through, but you lost a lot of blood. Guess my minor in anatomy came in handy, huh?"

"And then some," Sawyer gingerly touched her shoulder, wincing as she felt the stitches beneath the wrappings. Her brow furrowed, confusion clouding her thoughts. "Wait, how the hell did you get me here in one piece? I was eight hours away when I got shot…"

"Here comes the crazy part." Two Legs hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck, his playful tone faltering. "After I stitched you up, I…well, I hooked an IV from me to you. Then I found a motorcycle and had you sit up front and lean against me to keep the blood flowing. Rode the whole way like that."

Sawyer's eyes widened in disbelief. "How the fuck did I not drain you dry?"

"Adrenaline?" Two Legs laughed sheepishly like he was trying to hide how close he'd come to collapsing. "I made some stops along the way, gave myself a break…then kept going."

Sawyer stared at him for a long moment. Her eyes flicked up to the IV pole and the blood bag. "And that up there…that's yours too?"

Two Legs nodded, his lips quirking into a faint smile. "Made it myself."

"Oh, you're crazy…" Sawyer murmured, shaking her head as she let out a shaky breath. "How did you even know our blood was compatible?"

There was a slight pause before he answered, his eyes darting away.

"There were some tests in the facility. I took three, just to be sure."

Sawyer had a sinking feeling he was lying. A brief flash of memory surfaced—Luis's face, pale and tautened, his eyes dark and feral. Blood smeared across his lips. She shuddered, forcing herself to dismiss it as a hallucination from her blood loss, but the unease lingered.

She frowned and glanced at the empty cup before her, biting her lip. 

I almost died…

"Well," she said with a forced casualness, "give me a day to recoup, and I'll be out of your hair."

"Wait, you said you can't get home."

"I'll find a way; I always do." Sawyer insisted, her tone a little too firm. She gave a sharp nod, more to herself than to him. "We've helped each other enough."

"That may be true," Two Legs began, pausing as if carefully choosing his next words, "but we're both still in the hot seat, and I don't feel comfortable letting you go out there while you're still injured. You'll have no protection here."

"You don't think I can—" Sawyer started, her irritation rising.

"Hear me out," he cut her off, his voice softening. "I know you're strong. Hell, you took a bullet helping a man you hardly know. I'm not underestimating you. But you don't know your way around Spain like I do, and there's a good chance Alvarez is looking for us. We're better off together than separated."

Sawyer hesitated. He was right, and she knew it, but admitting that felt like admitting weakness, and that scared her more than the pain in her arm. 

"But I…"

"I want you to stay," Two Legs plead. The sincerity in his eyes made Sawyer's heart skip. "It's the least I can do for…for getting you caught up in my mess. At least until you're back on your feet, how about that?"

Sawyer's gaze dropped to the floor. The truth was, she didn't have the strength to argue anymore. The consistent pain radiating down her arm reminded her she wasn't at one hundred percent. Still, she hated feeling vulnerable and needing help. 

"Alright…" she muttered. "I'll stick around, I guess."

"Great then!" Two Legs' smile was big and warm, too warm for the grey still swirling in her head. "We'll figure this out. Trust me!"

Sawyer was silent for a long moment, staring at her hands. She felt a knot in her stomach. "Should we talk about how we will deal with Kari and what happened between you two back there?"

Two Legs' face fell slightly. 

"Let's table that for now," he said calmly. "I may look like I have it together, but these past few days have been hard for me too. I know you have a hundred questions, and I'll answer them, but…If it's all the same to you, I need time to get my head straight."

Sawyer furrowed her brows, feeling sympathy despite the questions clawing at the back of her mind. She nodded slowly.

"First things first!" Two Legs exclaimed, his voice bright with an almost contagious excitement. He disappeared downstairs momentarily, returning with a crinkling grocery bag filled to the brim, which he promptly set on the bed beside Sawyer.

"I bought you some snacks. I wasn't sure what you liked, so I got a little of everything. The pantry's stocked, fridge too—and oh! Clothes, I got you some clothes!"

Sawyer blinked, her groggy mind struggling to catch up. "Clothes?"

"Yeah!" His grin widened, a proud glint in his eyes. "Shirts, pants, underwear, socks...based on what you had on."

It took a second for her to register what he meant, and when she did, a flood of realization hit her. She wasn't wearing her original clothes—hell, she wasn't even wearing a bra.

Her heart gave a startled lurch as she glanced down, then quickly back up at him. 

"You looked at my body?"

Two Legs' face flushed deep red, his hands shooting up defensively.

"I—I had to clean you up! You were unconscious. I wasn't going to leave you lying there in...well, you know." He shifted on his feet, clearly flustered, dropping his hands. "But I swear, I didn't peek at anything. I...I respect ladies."

She stared at him, her mouth slightly open, torn between shock and something resembling gratitude. He was an awkward mess, but the sincerity in his words disarmed her.

"Oddly comforting..." she muttered.

Two Legs slapped his forehead suddenly, struck by another thought.

"Oh man, I forgot body wash, conditioner, all that…If you don't mind smelling like me, you can use my stuff for now. There are more blankets downstairs, a deck, umm...kitchen area's a bit of a mess 'cause I haven't had time to—"

"Luis," Sawyer interrupted gently. Her throat narrowed as she looked at him, at this man who had taken care of her when she was most vulnerable. "Thank you."

Two Legs expression eased, nervousness melting into something more caring—something that whispered he was just glad she was awake. He smiled faintly, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks as his mind raced ahead of him. 

"Can I ask you something?"

Sawyer shrugged. "Sure, it's not like I'm going anywhere."

"Who's Carmen?"

"What?"

"You said her name a lot when you were bleeding." His gaze searched hers. "Is she another one of your friends, like Sam?"

Sawyer's face darkened as a flood of emotions surged forward. She took a shaky breath, ignoring his eyes, pretending she hadn't heard him right.

"I need some time alone...if that's alright," she whispered.

Two Legs' eyes widened for a fraction of a second, realizing he had crossed an unspoken line.

"Yeah, yeah, sure...um," He nodded, stepping back, his usual confidence faltering. "I'll be downstairs. Just holler if you need anything. I'll check on you later, yeah?"

"Okay..."

Sawyer's mind was already shutting him out as she turned away and lay back down. 

Two Legs stood in the doorway, watching her frame disappear into the sheets. For the first time since meeting her, she looked small and lost. He didn't know what to say, so he slipped out of the room, the door closing with a soft click.

Once downstairs, he pressed his back against the wall, releasing a deep breath he didn't even realize he was holding. His arms shuddered, pulsing almost violently, his fingernails shifting from blunt to sickle and back again, between human and parasite.

"Mierda joder," he muttered under his breath. (2)

Two Legs stared at his hands for a long moment with resignation as he focused on his breaths, controlling himself.

"You can do this," he whispered to himself, jaw tightening. "You've got a plan. It'll work." 

He had already made arrangements and figured out his "meals" for the next week to keep himself from spiraling, especially now that she was awake. Then he let out a dark, humorless chuckle, rubbing his temple.

"If you were human...if you were Luis, you'd be thrilled right now. Over the damn moon. There's a woman in my bed, hell yes!"

His cheeky grin faded into a frown. "But no...there's a woman in my bed, and I can only think about how not to kill and eat her."

His conflict churned, making it even more complicated when he thought about what had happened earlier. When Sawyer stood up from the bed, her body so close to his, it sent a jolt through him, standing the hairs on his neck. How the faint scent of her lingered in the air, her skin warm...he was painfully aware of the distance between them, or lack thereof, and how easy it would have been to pull her closer.

Two Legs sighed. His body reacted before his mind could catch up, and the hunger bit at him, primal and instinctive.

"I can do this..."

He curled his hands into fists to steady himself and keep from doing something he couldn't take back.

Notes:

1. Oye, bella durmiente! = Hey, sleeping beauty! 2. Mierda joder = Shit, fuck

[rosewheresheshouldntbe]

Rose shouldn't be on top of the Hazbin Hotel with Alastor. Actually, why is she even in Hell? She's only like 14-16 years old here!

[we-dont-talk-about-potato-nonono]

my OCs couple Johnny and Yin, heart selfie

🫶💖🫶

(reference below ⬇️)

[lillotte17]

..

[dexmods]

i keep forgetting to post this

[vaugarde]

god it still feels so good

[moofuuu]

He wasn't listening to him :[

[o-vera-nalyzing]

j saw a tweet ab kiyoomi watching msby play and like using it to help get him through uni cause he can’t wait to play with atsumu which is so valid but ALSO nerd omi who watches msby matches and taking notes on his (future) teammates and their strengths and weakness and how they like to receive sets and receives and where they’re strongest on the court.

idk i can just so clearly imagine him not studying for the fucking exam he has the next day because it’s boring but his entire bed is covered in volleyball notes and written up plays and player configurations like someone going to break into his room with a gun shoot him if he doesn’t have all msby’s plays memorized

[reel-fear]

people who still make Joey the ink demon despite canon steering far away from that being the case this is for you I am sending u kisses XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO <3

People who make Joey well-meaning, sympathetic, a lighter shade of morally grey than canon I am also sending u lots of love <3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3!!

And people who generally steer wildly from the direction Bendy takes with its characters and has fun with it I hope to see more from all of ur aus and rewrites!!

[pokophobia]

hey!!! would you look at that!!! it's been already two years since the precious strawberry crepe cookie came into our lives to make it brighter, better, cuter ...... bless their little heart

i hope to make this a tradition, even after i move on from crk because i just find crepe so mesmerizing ... ah.

[savage-rhi]

Duality

Chapter 7: The Escape II

Summary: Sawyer Kiddo has walked a razor's edge as a hacktivist for several years, driven by the loss of her family in the Raccoon City incident. Haunted by past choices and fueled with desire for vigilante justice, Sawyer's work takes an unexpected turn when she ventures to Spain and crosses paths with Luis Serra—a man with blood on his hands long thought to be dead. Together they unravel a web of corruption and face an impending bioterror threat, fighting not only monsters but also the darker elements of their humanity. As they delve deeper into each other's pasts and the conspiracy at large, Sawyer begins to sense something unsettling about Luis—something that might be even more dangerous than their mutual enemies.

Read on AO3 Here

Several flights of stairs and hallways later, Sawyer felt like her calves would fall off. It didn't help that her muscles were sore from trying to outmaneuver the Saber that came close to biting her head clean back in the locker room. Running from danger was something she had grown accustomed to over the years, but at this point, it was getting old--almost unbearable, until Luis and she came to a junction and stopped. She took this moment to catch her breath while combing her body of bruises. There were several on her arms at this point. She felt the wound on her head as well, noting that it didn't feel as swollen as when Luis checked it out in the basement.

“Gracias Christo, yes! We're going the right way!" Two Legs exclaimed in between panting, having moved from Sawyer to double-check a sign on the wall. He was so ecstatic that he didn't feel the sudden daggers Sawyer sent straight to his back. (1)

"Hold up," Sawyer furrowed her brows, meeting his gaze as he turned around. "You mean to tell me this whole time you didn't know where the hell we were going?" 

"I--" Two Legs hesitated, biting his lip nervously as he let out a giggle. "Okay, maybe I've been improvising just a little bit…" He made a pinching gesture as if that would take the edge off the situation. 

"Luis, are you fucking serious right now!?" 

"Hey! Hear me out!" Two Legs defended himself, gesturing with his arms out toward her. "I know for certain there is a waste hatch. I told you, I could smell it! When we find the bronze tunnel, I'm sure it's at the end waiting for us!"

Sawyer's eyes narrowed. "You're not exactly inspiring confidence right now. This place is huge; for all we know, there could be a hundred bronze tunnels!" 

"My nose has never failed me!" Two Legs confidently retorted. "Yes, I've been making things up as I go, but we're on the right trail! I caught the scent, and I've seen this sign before! We just…took a little detour, is all!" 

Guess he is a goddamn dog after all… Sawyer recalled her earlier banter with him in the basement before she continued to criticize him. "Y'know, you could've said something sooner before getting my hopes up!" 

Two Legs frowned, his earlier confidence waning. Luis's memories of comforting others failed him in this situation. Telling half-truths backfired, and the plaga didn't understand how his actions had been inappropriate. At the very least, he thought she'd appreciate the humor of the situation—people quickly forgave Luis of his trespasses because of his wit. 

"But…" he hesitated, fumbling over his thoughts. "Earlier, weren't you upset?"

"So what if I was?" Sawyer balked.

" So what? " Two Legs mimicked. "Are you really going to condemn me for trying to soothe you?"

"I'm going to condemn you if we both end up dying because you forgot which way to go! You should've been straight with me!" 

Discomfort nestled in Two Legs, the memory of failing to predate on Sawyer the previous night resurfaced. While entertaining the thought of attempting that again—given her attitude—his nerves from his spine to his feet began to tingle, dancing alongside his knotted stomach. 

He realized he was enjoying this tension. 

"Harsh words from someone so ungrateful," he grinned, suppressing a laugh. "You can't damn me if we're both corpses, now can you, senorita ?" (2)

"Last I checked, hauntings haven't been disproven," Sawyer remarked sarcastically. She stepped closer into his space, her voice low and intense. "I'm not great at Spanish, but I know you're trying to undermine--!"

"Shh!" 

"You're the human equivalent of a twig with feet, don't you shh me!" 

Two Legs suddenly clamped his hand over her mouth. Sawyer's eyes widened in protest, but she quickly noticed what had alarmed him: low snarls from the left. 

A mutual silence fell between the two, and Sawyer's gaze slowly traveled up to Luis, watching his nostrils flare and his chest rise steadily. The stillness in his eyes reminded Sawyer of a professional sniper, honing in on his target before taking a shot. Luis didn't seem the type to be someone of that ilk, but the strangeness of his behavior faded when she spotted movement from ahead. 

Three Dires emerged, their canine human forms slinking from the darkness underneath fluttering lights. As they advanced, their yellow eyes carried an eerie glow, sensing a disturbance within their territory. The large humps on their upper backs flexed with every step they took, showcasing powerful muscles underneath the flesh. 

"The meth wolves," Sawyer whispered under her breath as Two Legs removed his hand from her mouth. She immediately thought of Kari, how she was alone facing a horde of these creatures or worse--these were the survivors, and she was dead. "Oh shit…"

"How good is your aim?" Two Legs asked, his voice tense as he kept his eyes on the BOWs. 

"Decent. Why?" 

"Cover me." 

"What?!"

Without further explanation, Two Legs grabbed a discarded metal panel and threw it against the wall with a loud clang. The Dires turned towards the noise, momentarily distracted as Two Legs ran forward, waving his hands to draw their attention while he shouted. 

"Hey, over here!" 

The Dires released a series of snarling clicks like hyenas alerting one another and proceeded to advance on him. At first, the creatures were in a sprint as Two Legs began to run backward, keeping his eyes focused on them. But then he saw the look of familiarity as the BOWs paused, getting on all fours as they precariously inched toward him. Their noses twitched as the growls became deeper.

Seizing the opportunity, Sawyer aimed her handgun. Her hands shook while she sharpened her focus. Luis was insane for doing this, but with the BOWs' backs turned to her, Sawyer had a clear shot at their heads and assumed vital spots. The air became stiff as she narrowed down her first target, feeling startled when the creature's tactics changed. It was almost as if Luis had them hypnotized. She couldn't believe it, much less process what she was looking at.

Two Legs felt conflicted as he slowly backed up further, sensing through vibrations that the parasites within these entities had difficulty telling if he was a friend or foe. He sensed Sawyer's gaze and let out a yell toward the BOWs. It was enough to break the trance, and the leader took a shot at him--swiping its powerful right arm toward his direction, narrowly missing his abdomen as Two Legs jumped back. 

The first shot echoed through the corridor, dropping the nearest Dire with a headshot. Four more shots took down another, striking the head and legs. Realizing the secondary threat, the third Dire spun around and ran at full speed toward Sawyer. Just as it leaped into the air, its jaws open wide, she fired several shots--the bullets piercing through the mouth and skull before the body toppled to the ground with a thud.

Sawyer exhaled sharply. Although the encounter lasted only seconds, the adrenaline made it feel longer. Her grip on the gun relaxed.

Two Legs whistled in approval as he backtracked, kicking the Dire at Sawyer's feet to ensure it was dead. He chuckled amusingly, trying to cover up his mixed feelings about the creatures and his relation to them.

"Nice shooting!" he muttered, a hint of a smile on his lips. "For a second, I thought you were gonna let them eat me."

"It did cross my mind," Sawyer replied, her voice steady despite her racing heart. She reloaded her weapon and gestured for Luis to lead the way. "Keep going. I'll follow."

"Oh, really now?" Two Legs looked at her, eyebrows raised. "I thought you were angry with me?" 

"Oh, believe me, I still am," Sawyer replied mockingly, a nervous laugh escaping her. "But I can't be mad at you if we're both dead, so let's move."

"So, does that mean I won our argument?"

"Shut up, Luis."  

Two Legs grinned, nodding as he gestured with his head to follow. 

They continued down a narrow hall, leaving the fallen Dires behind. As they neared their destination, Two Legs's nose twitched at the sudden stench of sour milk and rotting vegetables. He paused, gagging as the smells hit his olfactory system like a train.

"Did you swallow a fly mid-run?" Sawyer quipped as she came to his side to check on him.

"Good one," Two Legs huffed with a laugh, shaking his head. "No, it's the waste hatch. We're getting close! See?" 

A bronze tunnel came into view ahead of them. They rounded a corner and rushed toward the exit. Ultimately, Two Legs and Sawyer entered a large sterile room with faded walls and a high ceiling. The space resembled a testing site where Soldado's monsters no doubt took their first breaths, its haunting imagery further exemplified by the scent of chemicals and something raw that neither Two Legs nor Sawyer could place. Sawyer furrowed her brows and licked her dry lips, not wanting to imagine the other horrors that had transpired here.

"Where's the hatch?" She asked, trying to take her mind off her thoughts. 

Two Legs placed a hand on her shoulder as he quickly walked past. "I'm gonna find it! See if you can find a gun for me in the meantime, eh? Don't wander too far!"

Before she could protest, Luis was out of sight. There was no point in arguing with him to stay put or offering to help. Accepting her lot, Sawyer began to look around, rubbing her eyes as they watered from the bleach and mildew scents in the lab.

Rows of large glass tanks lined the area, some shattered and others intact. A few flickered with faulty lights, casting gloomy shadows on the ground and illuminating the turquoise water that filled each capsule. Inside the intact tubes, remnants of creatures were visible—mangled limbs, disembodied organs, and twisted spines—floating in a viscous fluid. How each piece moved against the glass reminded Sawyer of an undeveloped fetus hanging onto the placenta, and she nearly gagged at the thought. Finding a gun for Luis was the furthest thing from her mind as her eyes widened with disdain, realizing the depth of Soldado's operations. It seemed he had never left Umbrella behind, unlike how he bragged about it back at the Plaza. She couldn't fathom why people like Soldado pushed the envelope all in the name of progress. The gallery of grotesque creations didn't seem worth whatever he had been trying to accomplish.

As Sawyer pondered the what-ifs, cautiously navigating through the labyrinth of tanks, she stopped at one in particular--unable to tear away as she peered into it. A mass of organs and spider-like legs floated in the fluid, pulsating as if still alive. She swallowed hard, trying to suppress the rising nausea, memories of the locker room incident flooding back—how the Sabers mandibles had protruded from its cheeks and the insect-like mannerisms of the Dires formation. These things—plaga, or whatever they were—seemed obsessively revered by Soldado. She wondered how he had developed such a twisted fascination with them and where the hell they had come from in the first place. There had to be more to the story than just the caves Soldado had mentioned in passing.

He sure had a kink for bugs if there ever was one, that's for damn sure…

Just as Sawyer was about to turn away, something moved. A bloody hand lunged at the space between the tanks right at her.

"Whoa! Whoa! Fuck--!” Sawyer yelled, stumbling back in shock, nearly knocking over a desk. The sound bounced through the room, amplifying the eerie atmosphere. She struggled to regain her composure, her gun trained on the bloodied appendage.

"Kiddo," a hoarse voice called out. "It's… it's me. Put the gun down."

Sawyer hesitated, her hands shaking slightly, but then took a deep breath and peered further as the figure behind the tanks rose. Covered in blood and grime, Samuel grunted as he managed to limp around and stood before her. There was no mistaking the familiar face as Sawyer met his pained stare.

"Samuel?" Sawyer gasped, lowering her gun. She couldn't believe her eyes. "How...?"

"Surprise," Samuel feebly chuckled, his voice barely audible. He winced and fell onto his knees, his body battered and sore. Eyes unfocused and hazy, he struggled to push himself up. "Shit..."

Sawyer knelt beside him, and she gently cupped his face, careful not to touch the bruises and cuts scattered across his skin. 

"Sam, what happened to you?" Her voice shook with relief. "Are you okay?"

"Kiddo, I…." Samuel coughed, wincing as he tried to sit up. "I…I got separated from Mobley. We were ambushed…by an elephant man."

"Elephant man?" 

"Big…elephant BOW. It came out of nowhere…knocked me on my ass." His words were halting, each breath labored. Samuel glanced down at his side, where a makeshift bandage was hastily wrapped around his abdomen. Blood had seeped through the fabric, staining it a dark red. "I woke up...in an office. Found a first aid kit and...tried to patch myself up, and crawled here."

Sawyer's eyes softened, and she let go of his face, whispering an apology as he grimaced from her touch. "There's a waste hatch that leads out of here, Sam. We're gonna get out of this damn place."

Samuel smiled weakly, his voice muffled. "I missed your cursing."

"And I missed when you weren't bleeding to death," Sawyer countered playfully, trying to lighten the situation for both their sakes.

"This has been…one hell of a bust, Kiddo."

"You don't say," Sawyer quipped playfully, then tried to give him some hope to latch onto. "We can bitch about it over drinks, I promise." 

"I'll…make sure those are…both teas," Samuel grinned, straining the muscles in his mouth. "I wouldn't want...to break your streak."

Not far from the pair, Two Legs had been watching the exchange; he had arrived shortly after hearing Sawyer scream. Confusion bloomed in his eyes. This Samuel and his quarry weren't related by blood—Two Legs could smell their differences from their sweat alone—but their connection was significant nonetheless. An unfamiliar feeling roosted under his ribs as he observed them—a mix of covetousness and something else he couldn't quite place. Whatever was going on with his body deeply unsettled his composure as he finally forced himself to approach the two.

"Hey! I heard you yelling, are you good?" Two Legs called out, pushing the emotions down while pretending not to notice Samuel at first. 

Samuel's gaze shifted to Two Legs, and a sense of recognition crossed his features. "Who's...this fella?"

"This is Luis. He's been helping me," Sawyer answered quickly, her voice steadying as she gestured toward him. "Luis, this is my good friend Sam I've told you about."

"Hola!" Two Legs grinned, giving a slight wave with his hand. He felt the weight of Samuel's scrutiny. Though clouded with immense pain, the man's eyes held a clarity that unnerved him. It was as if Samuel was seeing through the facade, sensing something that even Sawyer hadn't fully grasped.

Two Legs lowered his hand and made a fist.

"Let's get you out of here," Sawyer gently touched Samuel's shoulder. "Can you stand?"

Samuel nodded, though he clearly struggled with his wounds and feelings toward Sawyer's companion. With their help, he slowly rose, wincing with each movement. All the while, the expression of Two Legs remained unreadable as Samuel studied him.

"How far is the hatch, Luis?" Sawyer asked.

"Oh, it's on the other side of these gestation tanks! I don't think your friend here will struggle getting to it once he finds his feet."

"How comforting of you…" Samuel muttered, followed by a rough cough.

Two Legs felt a strange, awkward sensation as he stared at Samuel.  He realized it wasn't just his obvious connection with Sawyer that bothered the plaga, but something else. One thing was sure: Two Legs didn't like how it made him feel, almost on edge—his false display as Luis threatened to lift with each passing breath because of it.

"You're pretty tough for an older guy. It sure looks like you've seen better days, eh?" Two Legs gestured toward Samuel's injury. He couldn't help but try to pry and see what else was happening.

"Can we...cut the small talk for now?" Samuel asked, coughing once more.

"Jesus, Sam, your mouth is bleeding bad." Sawyer pointed out.

"I'll be fine," Samuel protested. "Trust me...I'll be alright."

The coughing of blood made Two Legs connect the dots, but to be sure, he needed to use his senses to feel out the room. Subtly, the tendrils in his body sent out microscopic pulses of vibration. The waves created varying degrees of noise that only those of his kind could hear. Two Legs turned his attention inward, intently focusing on Samuel as the frequencies returned to him, constructing a series of heat signature images behind his eyes. As the pictures focused, his stomach dropped.  

A blue-green aura existed inside Samuel, taking the shape of a plaga and coiling throughout his body, leeching into his spine. The parasite stopped moving and turned its head toward the source of the sudden racket that had knocked it off course. The creature responded to Two Legs with a violent sequence of sounds, causing Two Legs' eyes to widen and his breath to hitch.

"Sam?" Sawyer backed up a little as Samuel coughed more blood into his palms.

"Sawyer, you need to get away from him!" Two Legs stepped back, his voice urgent.

"What are you talking about?" Sawyer's head snapped up, confusion and anger flashing in her eyes. "He needs our help!"

Samuel looked between them, his expression darkening as his breath quickened. "What the hell are you saying?"

Two Legs struggled to find the words—the human words—to explain himself as he glanced frantically between the two.

"He's infected," He finally managed, his tone insistent as he abruptly sensed more of his brethren's aggression coming through. "There's a parasite inside him!"

"No, that's impossible," Sawyer whispered, denial thick in her tone. She could feel her face turning pale as she met Samuel's eyes. "Samuel, tell him—tell him it's not true!"

"I…I don't know," Samuel admitted, his voice breaking as his eyes wandered around. "During the fight with the BOW, something…something stabbed me. Like a stinger."

Samuel glimpsed down at his bandaged side, realization dawning on his face as horror crept into his voice. 

"Oh god…"

"No!" Sawyer's hands shook as she gripped Samuel's left arm, her eyes pleading. "There has to be a way to help you! We'll cut the son of a bitch out once we leave!" 

"We don't have time for that!" Two Legs interjected grimly. He shook his head. "The parasite will take over soon. We need to stop it now!"

"How the hell do you know that, Luis?" Sawyer spat. "He doesn't even look infected!"

"I know--" Two Legs felt sweat trickling down his face before he remembered pocketing documents on Plaga Type E back in the security office. "I know because of Soldado's notes! I found them with his corpse. You can check the back of my pants if you don't believe me; I stashed them!"

The atmosphere grew dense as Sawyer and Two Legs stared each other down, their mutual suspicion and bitterness rising. Samuel, caught between them, felt his panic mounting. He suddenly became acutely aware of the thing inside him--a cold, alien presence slithering against his bones and organs.

The room grew darker as his body began to cringe. His heart picked up in speed. 

"We have to leave him behind," Two Legs pleaded, seeing the ache in Sawyer's eyes and her unwillingness to let go. He felt a pang of something—empathy, perhaps—but he pushed it aside. There was no room for that, not now. His voice became frustrated, recalling his previous mistakes. "You told me to be straight with you earlier, and now that I'm doing that, you suddenly want comforting lies?! Jesus, make up your mind!"

"I am not leaving Sam, and that's final!" Sawyer yelled, her eyes blazing with a mix of defiance and fear.

"Ki-Kiddo…"... Samuel's voice was barely a whisper.

His body started to convulse.

"S-Sam...?"

“R--u--Run…” 

Those were the last words Samuel managed to choke out before a guttural scream tore from his throat. His eyes glowed with a startling, unnatural hue while his skin rippled grotesquely as the parasite took control, bones cracking and elongating beneath the surface.

Sawyer quickly moved away, her heart sprinting in her chest as his face contorted in agony. Inhuman roars reverberated through the area as Samuel's features continued to warp. She watched as his hands thickened and extended into grayish appendages, the nails hardening into opaque, chitinous claws. His skin became darker and toughened, taking on a leathery texture. With an agonizing wail, Samuel's back arched, and a spine of segmented armor erupted along his vertebrae--reminiscent of a beetle's carapace. His chest expanded as more bones realigned to support the growing mass as his body gained height. A pair of tusks--long and sharp--protruded from his mouth, giving an ungainly appearance. 

The last glow of humanity in Samuel's eyes faded as he stared at Sawyer, his arms extending outward as he let out a thick screech that rattled every gestation tank in the lab.

As Samuel continued to cry out, Two Legs watched in horrified fascination. He felt the parasite's malicious intent directed toward him, sensing the elder plaga had no intention of letting anyone in this room out alive. The last time he felt like prey was back in the village, and a deep-seated fear stirred within him.

Sawyer stood frozen. Her vision blurred, and the sounds around her dulled as if she were underwater. Each blink of her eyes replayed Samuel's despairing screams, blending with haunting memories of Carmen rising from her bed, arms outstretched in a desperate plea for mercy. A wave of detachment washed over Sawyer, incapable of reconciling the hell unfurling before her.

Without warning, Samuel—now fully the Tusk—turned his newfound strength against her. With a violent shove, he hurled Sawyer aside like a rag doll. The force sent her crashing across the room, the world spinning around her in a dizzying haze. Pain spread through her body, but it felt distant, as if it belonged to someone else. 

Two Legs sprang into action, his movements a blur as he launched himself toward Sawyer to intercept, hitting the ground with a grunt that reflected his exertion. He skidded slightly from the impact but managed to break her fall, using his body as a shield as she collided with him. The force of the impact knocked the air out of his chest, but he clung to Sawyer, absorbing the brunt of the blow to protect her.

Breathing heavily, Two Legs looked down at her, her eyes wide with shock. The raw affliction on her face seemed to threaten to unravel her resolve, but there was no time to dwell on it, much less Two Legs conflicted feelings about risking everything for someone he saw as prey.

Two Legs made haste as he maneuvered Sawyer into a safer position, his hands gripping her shoulders to steady her. "Are you alright?"

Sawyer nodded, her breath in fleeting gasps as she struggled to regain her composure. 

"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied, quivering but finding ground. Her eyes met his, and a silent understanding passed between them—a shared resolve to survive and a knowledge of what the outcome meant for Samuel. 

"We can't let him find the hatch! He's too dangerous," Two Legs pressed, his voice edged with desperation. "I know this...hurts you, but we must take him down together!"

Sawyer nodded, her eyes shining with unshed tears. She scrambled to grab her handgun, which fell not far from her, and tightened her grip on it, firming her will even though all she wanted to do was mourn.

"Do you have any ideas?" Sawyer breathed. 

"Besides not dying? Nadda…” Two Legs admitted, his gaze shifting back to Samuel. The intimidating presence of the beast loomed larger as it barreled toward them with alarming speed. "Joder!"

"Remember how we took down the meth wolves earlier?"

"Si?"

"It can't hurt to try it again!" Sawyer exclaimed. "Distract him, I'll shoot!"

"Wait, wait, wait, why am I the bait this time?!" 

"He looks more pissed at you than me, now go!" 

As the Tusk lunged to crush them, the pair jumped into action, playing to their respective strengths. Two Legs moved frenetically, darting around Samuel and drawing his ire.

"Oye, bastardo feo! Were you looking for me?" Two Legs taunted, his voice taut with adrenaline as he narrowly dodged Samuel's monstrous swing. The Tusk's massive trunk-like arm crashed into a metal support beam with a deafening clang, sending a shiver through the room. Debris rained down, shattering gestation tanks and spilling their contents. (3)

Seizing the momentary distraction, Sawyer fired her gun with grit, aiming at the vulnerable joints and gaps in the Tusk's exoskeleton. Her bullets chipped away at the creature's flesh, and as she missed some shots, she could feel her frustration mount. She watched Luis continue to lead the Tusk on a wild chase through the facility, calculating each movement to trick the BOW into smashing into dangerous objects and the walls.

"Missed me!" Two Legs heckled as the Tusk slammed its arms into four gestation tanks simultaneously while attempting to grab him. The glass embedded deeply into its skin, and the BOW erupted in a ferocious roar that clapped like thunder. Its eyes zeroed in on Two Legs, the parasites' relentless drive to eliminate the perceived higher threat overriding all other concerns. The BOW charged with renewed ferocity, its tusks now fully extended and gleaming with razor-sharp ends. At the same time, more beetle traits emerged, such as an armored shell and menacing mandibles snapping viciously.

Two Legs weaved through the chaos with agile precision, using his smaller size to his advantage as he dodged the plagas' aggressive attacks. He was getting into a flow as the lab shook, with each of the Tusk's giant steps, the walls, and the equipment bearing the brunt of its rage. Eventually, luck ran out for Two Legs as the Tusk grabbed him mid-jump.

"S-shit!" Two Legs exclaimed, feeling the creature apply pressure to his entire body. He could feel his lungs deflate, his mind combing through Luis's memories at lightning speed to try and find a way out of this, but the pain became more unyielding as he could feel his host's bones wanting to give out even with the biological reinforcements Two Legs had developed over the years. He couldn't afford to mutate, and even then, Two Legs knew it wouldn't be of use at that moment.

Suddenly, several bullets hit one of the Tusk's mandibles, sending the appendage flying off in a bloody cloud and drawing a snarl of rage from the beast. The creature's eyes snapped toward Sawyer; the parasite recognized her as a more significant threat, tossing Two Legs to the side before it rushed at her, ignoring the bullets hitting its chest.

"Fuckfuckfuck!" Sawyer's curse cut through the noise as her gun jammed unexpectedly. Panic surged through her veins, her hands desperately trying to clear the blockage. She scrambled for cover, but it was too late.

The Tusk launched forward, and its right arm swung, crushing and slamming into the ground, sending Sawyer crashing to the floor. Her face smacked against the cold ground; wind knocked from her lungs as the gun skidded out of reach.

"No, no, no!" Sawyer muttered, her voice shaking with fear. She struggled to push herself up. The Tusk overlooked her, its immense shadow casting a suffocating chill.

"Oh no you don't!" Two Legs shouted, his voice raw as he charged. He skidded to a halt, scarcely avoiding a crushing blow from the parasite's massive right foot. In a desperate move, Two Legs snatched a jagged glass piece from the debris. Summoning every ounce of his strength, he drove it into the tender underside of the tusk leg. The creature bellowed in distress, its enormous frame staggering back as it clutched at the wound and fell.

Two Legs took the momentary reprieve to rush to Sawyer's side, his face etched with worry. 

"We need to quit meeting like this, cariño!" he shouted, his hands trembling as he helped her to her feet. "This one's on me for earlier!" (4)

Sawyer groaned, pushing through the mist of pain and disorientation. Her gaze fixed on Samuel, who was still squirming in agony, now on his hands and knees ravaging what remained of the lab, his furious strikes gouging deep craters into the floor and shattering anything in his path as he trapped himself in cords and other electrical equipment. The sight hardened Sawyer's stare. She understood there was no turning back now, no matter how much she wished otherwise.

"We have to end this," Sawyer's eyes darted around, heart sinking when she saw her gun too far out of range. It wouldn't make sense anyway to waste what little energy she had to unjam the damn thing. Her sight fell onto a fallen pipe within arm's reach, the sharp end illuminating under the dimming lights.

"One last time, get him pissed!"

Two Legs hesitated, his eyes betraying doubt, but he settled with his lot. Once again, he sprinted toward the Tusk, his insults laced with scorn as he dodged the creature's feral swings.

The BOW found its footing and ran at him, and as Two Legs darted underneath a table, narrowly avoiding being stomped, the Tusk fell forward and onto its face. Its legs had been trapped and entangled by debris and wiring, causing the creature to trip. Its frantic movements further entrapped the BOW while its claws dug into the ground, attempting to thrash away at its confinements, feeling steel wires wrap around its neck and sinking into its flesh.

With Samuel in the perfect position and nowhere to retreat, Sawyer knew the moment had arrived. She charged, her grip on the pipe white-knuckled, and with a decisive strike, she drove it into the soft tissue of the Tusk's throat, just below the start of its exoskeleton. The creature spat blood as it roared, and Sawyer yelled as she forced the pipe deeper, angling it to drive into the brain so it would kill him faster.

"Sam…" Sawyer's voice cracked, the words barely escaping through her gasping breaths.

The growls twisted into desperate gurgles as the BOW choked on its bile, movements coming to a sluggish crawl. The parasite's grip on Samuel's body weakened as it could feel its life force draining alongside its host--unable to contend with the arteries its attacker severed all at once.

"Sam, I'm so sorry—I'm so sorry, Sam!"

In his final moments, Samuel's eyes locked onto hers. His monstrous form seemed to falter as fleeting recognition and profound sorrow had etched across his ghastly appearance.

Sawyer shook her head, tears blurring as she whispered, "Sam, I'm so sorry… I'm so sorry…"

With a final, shuddering breath, the Tusk collapsed, its massive body crashing to the ground with a bone-jarring thud. 

Silence enveloped the facility, only interrupted by Sawyer's breathing, the crackling of failing electrical equipment, and the blaring of the overhead alarm system.

Less than two minutes before red protocol is activated. 

She stood over the fallen creature, the pipe still clutched in her trembling hands. The moment's weight pressed down on her, her mind racing and subjugated by the crushing reality of what she had just done.

She had killed her best friend.

Two Legs crawled out from his hiding place and approached Sawyer cautiously. A somber stillness masked his expression while he watched her grip on the pipe loosen, the metal object making a squelching noise as it remained embedded into Samuel's flesh. The quiet that followed was heavy, laden with the consequence of their actions.

"He's... he's gone," Sawyer whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. Her eyes remained locked on the lifeless form of her friend, the horror and despair evident in her gaze.

The rawness of her grief made Two Legs reluctant to intrude, much less offer comfort. A memory from "the other place" imposed itself upon him, showing Luis and Abuelo putting down a bird whose wings were trapped in barbed wire. The unfortunate animal had torn itself apart while trying to escape. He could hear the two arguing in his head about whether to nurse the creature back to health or to end its suffering, with Luis heavily debating the ethics long after the deed was done.

"Sometimes…" Two Legs began, his voice hesitant and heavy. The rest of the memory played out.

Abuelo ended the conversation in one fell swoop—the words leaving an impact on a young Luis that would follow him for years.

"Sometimes, there are no good choices."

Sixty seconds until red protocol activation. 

"We need to move," Two Legs said, his voice unwavering despite the mixed emotions tugging at him. "C'mon, c'mon, you can't stay here."

Sawyer stole one last lingering look at Samuel's lifeless body, then followed Two Legs. They ran across to the other side of the lab, sliding into the hatch, and fell rapidly down a dark tunnel.

As they emerged on the other side, crashing into one another and tumbling through mud and garbage, they found themselves further away from the site than expected. They crawled out of the grime and stood up, noticing the expanse of twilight shadows and the distant glow of the sun.

The howl of the explosion shattered the moment of peace as the facility erupted in a brilliant burst, lighting up the sky with a searing glow.

Sawyer stood frozen momentarily, her face illuminated by the distant flames. The shock of it all felt surreal as if she were watching a nightmare unfold in slow motion. She wondered if this was how Carmen felt when Raccoon City fell to the undead—alone and hopeless, knowing that everything she cared about, every person she loved, had been reaped without mercy.

Two Legs swallowed hard as he watched the blaze. He could almost feel the heat of the fire engulfing Abuelo's house as Luis stood not more than a few feet away, watching his home and even his identity perish. That was one of Luis's core memories that he would rather soon forget than relive. He needed a distraction and fast.

Glancing at Sawyer, Two Legs eyes echoed the ferocity of the flames. His stomach twisted as hunger urged him to sink his teeth into his quarry. He had gone the extra mile not only to save himself but also her own hide. All this effort was to finish what he had started last night and end this strange sense of obligation that was lingering in his mind. He was so close, he could practically feel her arteries gushing around his mouth.

Then her eyes met his.

His heart beat wildly, like back in the basement.  

"C'mon," Two Legs urged almost bitterly as he blinked, his voice barely whispering above calamity ahead. He moved away from Sawyer, his steps hurried and desperate. The terrain grew uneven as he approached the river's edge, which was just a short distance away, and he turned to see if she was following.

Silently, Sawyer acknowledged the fire one last time and turned her back. She followed Luis deep into the woods, the river soothing her frayed nerves as she picked up the pace.  She had no idea what to do now except to keep running—just like she always did.

Even if it hurt.

Notes:

1. Gracias Christo = Thank Christ! 2. Senorita = Miss/ young girl 3. Bastardo feo = Ugly bastard 4. Cariño! = Sweetheart / Dear