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Leon doesn't remember Krauser ever being this fast.
He's always been agile, sure, movements so quick it'd been hard to follow them when Leon had first started sparring with him, but this is beginning to border on supernatural. Krauser blurs in Leon's vision, silver blade lashing out so quickly it's all that Leon can do to block it with a quick swipe of his own. Adrenaline hums beneath his skin, hot and damp with the sweat soaking into his tight-fitted t-shirt. His senses are permanently on red-alert, muscles tightly coiled and prepared to spring.
Krauser sneers, lashing out with a kick that Leon's forced to dodge. He's about to follow up with a quick jab with his combat knife, but Krauser steps backwards with that superhuman, unnatural speed---and the world goes blank with the bright flare of a flash grenade.
Leon gasps, unable to hear it over the awful pressure in his ears, struggling to keep himself upright in the wake of the blast. His eyes sting, pulsing and flaring with disorienting flashes. Everything feels like it's underwater. Five seconds is all it takes for his vision to return from the brink of total blankness, but it's five seconds too long.
Reeling, Leon can't think to move when a hand closes around his left bicep, yanking him backward so that Krauser's blade can sink into his chest. Leon chokes, eyes widening as he feels the blade plunge viciously through layers of flesh and bone. His mouth opens in a silent scream---or maybe he does, he can't tell over the shrill tone still ringing in his ears---hot, metallic blood spilling across his lips. He's barely had time to process the sensation before Krauser rips the knife back out again, those thick fingers leaving their place around his arm.
His knees buckle. Without Krauser's support, Leon would have collapsed to the floor, but a hand in his hair stops his descent. Krauser yanks, tilting Leon's head up to the sky. Stars wheel wildly in his vision, and Leon sees red as Krauser draws the blade through the side of his throat, splitting the flesh as easily as he would slit a knife through paper. Hot liquid soaks Leon's shirt, blood gushing like a fountain over the hand he brings uselessly to his ragged neck. He can't breathe right.
Cobblestone meets his knees, a dull thud he barely feels. His vision is already going black at the edges, and Leon fights against the pool of despair threatening to drag him under. His eyelids flutter, body falling forwards as his heart struggles to beat and his brain begins to lose its supply of oxygen.
So this is how he ends.
A hand slithers across his chest from behind, slipping under Leon's armpit to crawl its way onto his gaping breastbone. A second set of fingers jams punishingly deep into his damaged carotid artery, and Leon gasps with what remains of his trachea. The world seems to stabilize, just enough for him to feel Krauser's body behind him, pressed close enough that Leon can feel the terrible, perfect way their bodies fit together. It's familiar; almost comforting, in some sick way.
Cradled against Krauser's chest, Leon can do nothing but sag against his solid body, mouth opening and closing uselessly as the world begins to fade around him. Krauser's breath is warm against his ear, voice a gravelly jumble that Leon can't make out. Krauser laughs, the vibration thundering through Leon's ruined chest, and then the pressure of his fingers disappears from Leon's throat. Darkness claims him a moment later, the strength leaving his limbs with a fresh rush of blood, and Leon knows no more.
It's quiet, for a while, before a sudden stirring of his consciousness drags him violently back to life.
"There you are," Krauser croons, the sound of it tingling against Leon's ear. He's panting, chest heaving under the arm still wrapped around him, Krauser's other hand tracing a pattern on his hip. Leon growls, but the sound is weak. His neck hurts.His chest aches. What...?
"Figured the parasite would keep you alive." Krauser cackles, and Leon gasps as he finds his body thrust forwards, hands slamming into the stone to catch his fall. "Get up and fight, Rookie. You're not done until I say you're done."
A boot meets his side, and Leon gags, fighting to gain control of his limbs when he skids to a stop next to the gleaming combat knife he knows like the back of his hand. Sick bastard. Krauser's a sick bastard. Leon glares up at his lazily approaching form, knife flipping delicately between his fingers as he grins. His eyes look like stars--- empty, cold, and alight with a dangerous sort of fire that Leon knows too well. Krauser stops a few feet away, settling into a fighting stance. The blade in his hand is bloody.
"I taught you better than this."
"Shut up." Leon's voice is raspy, painful in his throat. He makes himself stand, ignoring the wobble in his legs in favor of lifting his own knife to match Krauser's. "Maybe you don't know me anymore."
Krauser's grin turns cruel.
"Then show me who you've become."