Chapter Text
So, in the end, Leon really had been better than him. That Krauser was laying on the ground, unable to move as his Plaga tried to heal him was proof of that. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to get up at all. The parasites were effective, but they didn’t work miracles. Or maybe he just didn’t want to get up after his humiliating defeat.
He expected Leon to move along as soon as he could, leaving Krauser to rot just like he had years ago. Somehow, though, that didn’t happen.
He felt boots on the ground, approaching him. Leon’s steps barely stirred the dust on the ground, they were so light, but it was still obviously him. Krauser would have known those footfalls anywhere.
Krauser expected gloating, or for Leon to prod him with a gun to make sure he was dead. Anything except what Leon did.
He heard gravel scrape under Leon’s boots and Leon’s breath grew audible. He’d knelt down, by Krauser’s estimate, but there was no poking and no words for a long stretch. Was Leon just- looking at him? Why?
It didn't help at all when Leon finally spoke.
“What happened to you, Jack?” Leon murmured, just loud enough for Krauser to pick up on. “You used to be a good guy…”
There was no anger, no bitterness, and not even a drop of hatred. The only emotion in Leon's voice was sadness. Pity, even. It was completely antithetical to what Krauser had wanted, what he'd been sure would give him satisfaction. He'd come after Leon with intent for one of them to die after a hot and hateful fight, and now it was only his eruption of anger against Leon's cool ocean of sympathy. If Krauser hadn’t already been immobile, he certainly would have been now.
Leon's boots crunched gravel once more as he stood up, but he hesitated after only one step away. Krauser's jaw tensed even harder as he realized that Leon didn't want to leave him. That- Krauser could barely comprehend that. Instead, he pushed it away, dismissed it as nothing but an anomaly, meaningless.
It was easier to do when, finally, Leon's footsteps trailed away, leaving Krauser with only his thoughts as his body continued the painstaking healing process.
Used to be, the words echoed in Krauser’s mind. Used to be good, just like he used to be broken, all because of Leon. Leon hadn’t given him his body back and his life with it. He’d abandoned Krauser, just like everyone else when he’d outlived his usefulness.
But still, he couldn’t deny the tenderness in Leon’s voice. The emotion that suggested that maybe, just maybe, he’d thought of Krauser all the while. That he hadn’t wanted things to turn out the way they had. Even after Krauser had tried to kill him, the damn kid didn’t show even a hint of spite.
It was pissing Krauser off, the inner turmoil and emotion. Enough that he was intent on finishing the job. He wanted to spite Leon, to make him hate Krauser like he always should have. To kill him and make it hurt and see his eyes burn into Krauser, wishing he could return the favor.
That was the mindset he took with him as he pushed himself to his feet once more. He traced Leon’s path as it led out of the arena. He was hunting, just as he had the whole time he’d been on the island.
*****
When he caught up with Leon, the kid was gunning his way through a whole infantry of Saddler’s soldiers. No matter Krauser’s personal baggage, he couldn’t deny that Leon had more guts than anyone he’d ever known, and the skill to back it up. Even facing massive resistance, Leon was running and gunning his way across the winding landscape. Krauser stood on the rocky, hillside terrain above, watching his every move.
Traversing rough terrain was easier than ever for him, given his own set of mutations. His formerly useless arm now made for both an effective weapon and tool, keeping him grounded even on steep cliff sides. He bounded over gaps and navigated uneven terrain like it was a walk in the park. It reminded him of when he’d first enlisted, when he’d been young and spry, yet so much weaker than he’d become. Krauser was better than Leon now, so much better that he’d known that he could best his former partner in a one-on-one fight.
That was what he’d thought, at least. He’d thought that he could cross blades with Leon and win too. Even now, he thought that if he simply stalked Leon and caught him off guard, then maybe, finally, he’d have his satisfaction.
Instead, he watched Leon kill every living man who stood between him and his goal. He didn’t show hesitation, as he had with Krauser, only dogged determination. The kind of thing that Krauser hadn’t seen since Operation Javier. He associated that time with so many bad memories that he’d almost forgotten the one thing he’d enjoyed. It shouldn’t have been possible to enjoy anything when one was dealing with mindless hordes, but Krauser had. Leon made that much impossible to deny.
Krauser should have pounced already, but, instead, he prolonged his stalking as Leon climbed higher and higher. Maybe he just wanted to see how far Leon could go before Krauser snatched victory away from him. Maybe he was stalling for the perfect moment. Maybe it was something else entirely.
Leon was at the bottom of a narrow ridge now, walking through an obvious chokepoint with only a handgun. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d overcome impossible odds, so Krauser simply watched with interest.
Leon led with a flashbang, blinding the frontline troopers and keeping the sniper off his trail. He picked off a couple guys with two shots to their heads before ducking for cover behind some crates. He swapped the handgun out for a rifle and peeked out over the crates, doing all he could to get his sights on the sniper. Before he could, though, they both fired on his position. Leon ducked down, unharmed, but reconsidering his plan, clearly.
Through their shared parasites, Krauser could feel the position of each of the soldiers, but he knew that they were too preoccupied to grow aware of his presence. The itch to kill came off in waves through the strange, collective consciousness, fueled by Saddler’s will. While their intent was the same as Krauser’s, their efforts to kill Leon were only for someone else’s sake. Krauser’s stalking was for his own reasons as much as it was for the sake of the project. His will was just as strong as his renewed body.
He felt the soldiers drop like flies too, as Leon picked them off. They outnumbered him twenty fold, yet Leon kept evening those odds. It was impressive, just as Leon always had been. He didn’t need Krauser at that moment any more than he had back then. In his strength, Leon was worthwhile prey.
But, just as it seemed that nothing could stop Leon, the air lit up with the hiss of a rocket launcher firing off. Krauser thought nothing of it at first, seeing as it wasn’t the first time Leon had dealt with concussive blasts. The rocket blasted to the side of Leon’s cover and sent him flying into a concrete wall. His back slammed into it and Leon was stunned enough to crumple onto the ground sideways. Krauser sniffed, somewhere between humor and contempt. Tough as the government’s golden boy was, he got his ass kicked around on the way to victory.
Krauser waited for Leon to pick himself up. He waited and waited for a long several seconds, and he didn’t need a stopwatch to know that it was taking much longer than usual for Leon to stand up.
A minute must have passed and Leon was still lying on the ground, motionless. He wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be dead, could he? Krauser should have felt it.
Get up, he urged silently. Get up so I can knock you down.
Leon never seemed to hear, and soon, the soldiers realized that they were no longer being shot at before starting to close in on Leon’s position. If he wasn’t dead at that moment, he soon would be. Krauser should have been pleased, ecstatic even. The one who had ruined his life and abandoned him in favor of going on missions like this was about to meet a painful and humiliating demise.
Krauser wasn’t. He wasn’t in the least bit happy or even relieved. He was something else entirely.
Something changed in him in that instant. He heard the whispers to let Leon die, heard his own vengeful soul demand he kill Leon himself, but a third voice was screaming out. A voice he hadn’t heard since Javier.
He wanted- he didn’t know what he wanted, but he knew that he couldn’t play the idle observer anymore.
In an instant, he was making his way down the rocky cliffside, and as soon as the terrain grew level enough, he loped downhill, coming in from a favorable flanking angle. It was thrilling, the feeling of the wind in his face as he prepared to tear through his enemies, all of them so tunnel visioned that they’d never see him coming. As he rounded a corner and made it to the frontline troopers closing in on Leon, Krauser sliced one of their heads clean off. The second he barreled into had only just realized his companion’s fate before Krauser was stabbing his bladed arm through the man’s chest.
As he began his carnage, the soldiers called out to each other in shock and confusion, but Krauser paid no attention to their words. He knew that they were shouting for their sniper to get a visual on him, but that wasn’t going to happen. Krauser moved at inhuman speeds as he tracked each of his Plagas carrying targets, and all the while they had to play catchup. It was the most advantageous situation possible.
The foot soldiers fell first, most of them pointing their guns at thin air as Krauser sprinted around them and tore into their necks. He left a bloody mess in his wake, more conspicuous than Leon had ever been in his time in Spain. No use being subtle now.
With Leon having already taken out a fourth of the squadron, the rest were easy prey for Krauser. The soldiers may have had Plagas as well, but theirs sapped their will as much as it strengthened their muscles. They were little more than puppets, and Krauser considered it a mercy to cut their strings.
As he was finishing off the ground level, a rocket detonated just a few paces behind him. It sent a few corpses flying, and Krauser looked back to find the man frantically checking to see if he’d hit his mark. Krauser’s eyes narrowed as he realized that it had to be the same guy who had blasted Leon earlier. He had the overwhelming urge to hurt this one, efficiency be damned.
Krauser rushed towards his position, ducking and weaving all the while. Even if the guy managed to reload, a slow projectile like his rockets weren’t going to fly true unless he predicted Krauser’s movements as well as Krauser could predict his. Unlikely.
Krauser vaulted up the crumbling structures that pockmarked the landscape, using his arm in much the same way he had on the cliff sides. He could feel the fear washing off of the grenadier as his blade crushed through concrete and the gap between them only grew smaller.
As Krauser set upon him, the soldier turned his weapon to attempt a defense. Krauser saw down the barrel for an instant before whipping it out of his grasp with his normal hand. The soldier stumbled and nearly fell off the structure as his launcher clattered down into the dirt. The fall could have killed him, but that wasn’t enough for Krauser.
He grabbed the man’s arm and outstretched his blade before half-pulling, half-pushing him onto it, straight through his stomach. The man squirmed and grasped pitifully, face contorting in pain. It was exactly how he’d imagined taking Leon’s life. Krauser twisted the blade and relished in the screams he drew.
In the midst of his enjoyment, a crack sounded from somewhere above before Krauser felt a biting pain in his shoulder. He’d been shot, he realized quickly enough, but his body was already working to heal the wound. Krauser turned his head to look to where he’d heard the shot come from. Sure enough, his eyes fell upon the one remaining man: the sniper.
It didn’t even seem worth the effort to climb up and deal with him. That thought in mind, Krauser reached towards his belt and grabbed his TMP. Even at this distance, it would be more than enough to do the job.
The sniper was frantically moving to reload his weapon as Krauser opened fire on his nest. The frail guard rails ripped apart like tissue paper and nailed the sniper, sending him recoiling back before collapsing next to his gun.
With the soldiers neutralized, an eerie quiet fell over the area, broken only by the waves crashing far below. Krauser jumped down to the ground and returned to where Leon had fallen.
Sure enough, he was still there, laying face down on the ground. Krauser approached him and used his boot to flip Leon onto his front. Still, the kid didn’t move except for his mouth falling open. Entirely helpless.
This was the moment, Krauser’s moment of glory. Leon was in the perfect position for him to finish the job forever, to report back to Wesker that the job was done. Yet there he stood, hesitating. The one thing he’d been taught to never do as a soldier.
As he did so, a dry grunt came from Leon, and he squirmed as consciousness found him again. His eyes opened just slightly, giving a hint at the gray-blue of his irises. He blinked once, then twice, like he’d seen a ghost, even more so than their first reunion.
“Krauser?” Leon wheezed out.
He felt his arm retract into its original shape, hiding away the sharp blade he’d carved it into.
"Who'd you think?" he scoffed. "Your little girlfriend?" Krauser wasn’t even sure who he was talking about, the bitch or the president’s daughter. He supposed it didn’t matter.
Leon blinked again and gave a raspy breath that vaguely resembled a laugh, but Krauser figured it was just the kid getting his wits back about him. Leon groaned in his throat and reached up to touch his heavily bruised flank.
“Don’t be stupid,” Krauser said, shaking his head.
He reached into his back pocket, grabbing the can of first aid spray he’d been sure that he wouldn’t need.
“This’ll sting,” he warned as he sprayed it over Leon’s wounds.
Sure enough, Leon hissed, but he couldn’t exactly move to do anything about it. Instead he sat there for a few moments, breathing harshly. His head kept drooping, but Leon kept his eyes on Krauser, not quite willing to let him out of his sight.
Damn stubborn boy scout.
“Now get up, Leon.”
With a forlorn sigh, Leon pushed himself to comply, shoving his arms backwards and forcing his front half up first. The rest of him followed soon after, Leon lifting himself up like a corpse being pulled by strings.
“So-” Leon said, before a cough interrupted him. “- I guess you’re here for a rematch.” He gave a weak smile despite himself. “Third time’s the charm, so they say.”
It was Krauser’s turn to blink quizzically. Was that why he was here? Maybe it could have been, at some point in time, but now…
“No,” he said coldly.
Leon quirked his brow.
“No?” he echoed.
“You’d think you’d never heard the word before, golden boy,” Krauser gruffed, shaking his head. “No. I’m not here to fight you. That’s done, you beat me.”
“I thought I’d killed you,” Leon said, any cocky attitude gone in favor of a strange distance.
“Yeah. You probably did, but you didn’t kill my worm, and they don’t give up on their host so easy.”
“Worm?” Leon said, narrowing his eyes. “You mean, your Plaga?”
Krauser chuffed. “What else?”
Leon hesitated to reply and glanced off to the side with a strange glint in his eyes. One that Krauser knew a little too well.
“Thought maybe you had some bad sushi before coming over,” Leon teased, his humor muted, but so very familiar.
Leon hadn’t changed, not even a little bit. It should have pissed Krauser off more than it did.
“Don’t you have a job to do?” he demanded, spurning Leon’s joke entirely.
“Don’t you?” Leon countered.
Krauser stared at him stiffly, unsure how to answer that. He did have a job to do. In fact, Wesker had given him very clear instructions on what to do. Infiltrate the cult, kidnap the girl, keep an eye on Ada Wong, and kill Leon S. Kennedy.
It was clear. Easy. Krauser had never failed a mission before, never disobeyed an order, never -
“If you want the worms outta you and the girl, you gotta get a move on.” Krauser cocked his head.
Leon stared at him, surprised. The spray must have worked its magic, seeing as Leon was no longer favoring one leg or clutching his middle. Instead, he was checking his ammo supply and keeping an eye on Krauser all the while.
“And you?” Leon finally asked. “Where do you fit in?”
“I’m comin’ with.” Krauser said it with finality, hoping that Leon wouldn’t question it, but that just wasn’t the kid’s nature. He was the type to crawl down a gift horse’s damn throat.
“Why?” Leon stared at him, suspicious, and reasonably so. “What’s in it for you?”
Krauser gritted his teeth. Honestly, he wasn’t sure of that himself.
“You didn’t kill me,” Krauser said, shrugging. “I figure I owe you the same favor.”
“You consider it a favor that I didn’t kill you?” Leon asked, brow furrowed.
“Should I consider it cruelty?” Krauser asked. “You think I’m a dog that needs putting down?”
Leon frowned, averting his eyes.
“Just- keep up, okay?” Leon said, never looking at him.
Without another word, Leon continued through the clearing, turning his back to Krauser for the first time. Krauser stared after him for a long instant. Leon wasn’t a stupid man, that much he knew, so he must have believed Krauser, or at least wanted to believe him. Really, as far as Krauser was concerned, his options were still on the table. He could stick to the plan, kill Leon, go back to Wesker. Nothing would change and he’d have his revenge.
Revenge was tasting awfully sour lately.
Krauser followed after Leon, craving something else entirely.