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The steel grate was cold and punishing as Leon slammed down, already struggling to find his footing. This wasn’t how it ended, it couldn’t. Not when he was so close. But as he could do little but roll onto his back and drag himself against the grate, Krauser’s footsteps coming closer and closer, Leon realized that this may be it. He was going to die at the hand of his mentor, Ashley lost to the cult, and the world falling to Los Iluminados.
He had lost.
Leon struggled to breathe, body wracked with pain from blows that had been too fast and too powerful to be human. Had he been doomed from the start? Leon caught his own reflection in the knife Krauser twirled effortlessly and felt his body go cold. He was out of options, out of strength, and out of time.
It was going to take a miracle.
The worst part was when Krauser lunged forward, knife catching the light, Leon couldn’t even stare death in the face. He flinched and cringed back against the steel, eyes squeezed shut as he waited for the cold metal to sink into his flesh.
But it didn’t.
“K-kha…”
Splash, drip, drip.
Leon cracked open one eye, only to choke on the air in his throat.
Krauser loomed over him, knife still in his hand, shivering. His face twisted, flashes of pain, confusion and horror marring his already scarred features. A line of blood leaked down his parted lips. The knife in his hand shivered with him, then fell from his fingers and clattered uselessly on the floor right by Leon’s foot.
At that same moment, there was an audible crunch, a cry of pain, and a massive claw burst through Krauser’s chest. It sprayed blood onto Leon, who could do nothing but watch as the claw wrenched itself through the hole it had created, stringing Krauser across a thick, tentacle-like appendage like he was merely decoration.
It lifted the man up like he weighed nothing, dangling him above Leon.
“No es tan divertido, ¿verdad?”
The voice was barely heard through the cacophony of stretching flesh and the scream that echoed when a second clawed tentacle tore through the same hole. Krauser could do nothing but flail against the appendages, hands grabbing at the muscular lengths slicked with his own blood, until with an ear splitting screech, the tentacles suddenly spread.
It left Krauser’s body to tear like it was merely wet, loud paper, and the ocean of red that crashed down at Leon’s feet was tainted with misplaced organs and shrapnel of bone. The dying pulses of life still sparked through Krauser’s separated body, even as meat slipped off the lengths and added to a growing pile. In a sudden, violent spasm, the tentacles threw the still-twitching halves onto the grate, forcing his movements to stop short.
The claws paused for a moment, then like two delicately handled chopsticks, they sifted through the spread of organs and viscera, dragging the corpse through its own remains as they searched. Then one stabbed down into the last twitching piece of meat and held it up to the light.
The organ twisted and churned spider-like legs in the air for a few more seconds, then slowed, then stopped all together. The plaga. It hung off the claw, then bit by bit, the parasite disintegrated. It left only the residue of black sludge dripping off the tip, a murky mess that puddled against the red.
Leon’s heart battered against his ribs as his eyes followed the length of the tentacle to its owner, and it was then he felt it stop cold, frozen like the rest of him.
Luis.
He stood, no, he- He didn’t stand. He hung from the spider-like appendages that ripped from his back, four in all, veiny and covered in mucus. They ended in the same claws that Leon had just watched tear Krauser apart like it was nothing. The front ones shook the blood off the tips like it was a nuisance, sending a spray that spattered over Leon’s cheek. It was the only warmth he could feel.
Leon didn’t… He felt like he didn’t know what he was looking at. It didn’t make sense. It didn’t connect.
Luis had been stabbed. Killed. Slaughtered before him, another life ended that he couldn’t save. And now he…
The front claws connected properly to the floor, and Luis’ body swung forward and hovered above the remains of Krauser. “If I was a rat, what did that make you? You couldn’t even harness the power he’d given you,” he murmured, voice unnaturally calm.
“Y-you…” It was all Leon could force out as his hands struggled to grab on the grate, dragging himself back another foot and away from the- the- from Luis.
Luis looked at him, eyes glowing a vibrant yellow, the pupil like a misguided moon trying to block the sun. Familiar black had spread through his veins, darkening the skin and making them almost ethereal. “Me?” he asked, pressing his hand to his chest. “Leon, have you lost your voice? I knew you were the quiet type, but-”
Leon’s hands fumbled to his side before he grabbed his SG-09 and aimed it directly at Luis’ head.
Luis’ brow furrowed slowly, illuminated eyes staring down the end of the pistol. It shook in Leon’s hand, unable to hold steady aim. “Harsh, Sancho, I just saved your life,” he murmured, hurt audible in his voice. “We come all this way together and now you point your gun at me? Have we not grown past this?”
Leon swallowed, thoughts still reeling. It… It looked like Luis. It talked like Luis. But it couldn’t be.
It couldn’t be.
They stared, blood still audibly dripping from the front appendages and connecting with the grate floor. Luis’ eyes felt like they were burning into him, pinning him to the floor. Realization crossed his face, like something insignificant had suddenly been made aware to him. His eyes widened and his face lightened up. “Oh, Leon! You didn’t know?”
“H-how was I… You said-”
“You didn’t feel it? Lo siento, where are my manners?” Luis’ face split in a smile, too much teeth and too sharp, like he balanced a knife on his tongue. The legs shifted, carefully tucking behind Luis’ back and stretching him forward until his feet connected with the floor. He stood amidst the stretch of gore that had become of Krauser, and he kicked away a thick shred of meat. Leon’s gun followed him, even as it shook in his hand.
Luis’ hand went to his chest again, pulling away his jacket and shirt to reveal the scar. The length was glowing with the same yellow as his eyes. The scar from removing- no. Not removing. Implanting. Leon shifted his aim to it. Luis tutted him softly, stepping past the flesh and bone and a red beret soaked in its same color. “There’s no need for that-” he started, only to freeze when Leon’s finger moved to the trigger. He paused, eyes flicking between Leon and the gun, before he relaxed.
There was a softness in his expression again, one that looked too much like Luis. It looked too much like Luis.
“Oh Sancho,” Luis suddenly cooed, “weren’t we having fun playing hero? Saving our princess? Let’s go save her now, shall we?”
Leon couldn’t swallow down the lump that appeared in his throat, nor the ache in his chest. “S-stay away… from Ashley,” was all he could force out, reaching out with his other hand to steady the gun. It left him unable to hold himself up, collapsing back to the floor as he strained to keep his aim.
“Our señorita?” Luis questioned, taking another step forward. The spider legs moved with him, spreading out behind him almost like wings. They curved forward, and clawed tips connected to the floor around Leon, trapping him. Leon felt his heart in his throat, pulse thundering in his ears, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Luis’ glowing gaze.
“Get it out of your system, I understand.”
Leon didn’t move. His finger felt frozen as it rested on the trigger, only needing the smallest pressure. It should be easy. But he-
“You can’t?” Luis asked, head tilting. There was still a line of red trailing down his chin from when he had been stabbed. His teeth were bloodied, too. Was it real? Was any of this real? Because Luis couldn’t-
Luis moved again, reaching forward and letting his fingertips rest on the barrel of the gun. He didn’t move it away. Just rested them there. He stood over Leon, who was still splayed on his back, utterly defenseless. “Do you feel it yet?” Luis asked, voice softening. He looked almost human, standing in front of him, save for the four appendages that still spread from his back.
“F-feel-”
“Me.”
It was like lightning shot through his body in that moment, seizing him and searing through every vein in his body. He couldn’t think past the sudden weight that forced its way into his head, suffocating, suppressing. He gasped for air, lungs suddenly useless to sustain him as something squirmed and struggled within him. His vision darkened, colors smearing as he struggled, and he felt Luis suddenly grip his gun to keep it from falling out of his hands.
“Breathe,” was all Luis said, and like he owned his body, the air surged into him again. Something warm pressed against his cheek, smearing Krauser’s blood over his skin. Leon’s eyes fluttered open again and he stared at the two suns that lit his body. He could feel that fucking squirming in his chest again. The plaga. The plaga, it-
It yearned. It ached. He felt like there had been an open wound barreled through his chest and his missing piece was standing before him.
Luis smiled and it was warm. His hand remained on his cheek, thumb making small circles against him. Rubbing the blood of his victory into his skin. Marking him. His own veins sung their desires.
“L-Luis…” Leon gasped, struggling against the weight that was trapping him. It felt different than Saddler. It felt like it belonged. Like there was a line connecting him and Luis, one that grew by the second, like their bodies were one.
But there was still that shred of clarity he clung to, that he tried to drag back to his body. That told him that this was wrong, that it didn’t belong, that he was no one’s puppet-
“You feel me? We’re connected,” Luis soothed, and Leon felt his heart almost explode with the warmth that strung through the tether. “How do you think I found you? I felt you. I found you, guided you, made you mine.” The hand on his cheek gripped him harder, pulled Leon’s face closer, and he could trace each of the black lines that stained his veins.
“And I feel Ashley. She needs us.”
“She…” Leon tried to speak, but his tongue felt swollen and heavy in his mouth.
“And when we save her, when we destroy everything Saddler has done, you will stay with me. We will create a new world together, Leon.”
Something brushed against Leon’s side, a claw still wet with blood and mucus. There was something in him struggling in that moment, that shred of lucidity, but just as soon as it came, it disappeared under the weight of Luis’ influence.
“What Saddler wants is to rule the world, but I,” Luis paused, drawing his face closer, hot breath too warm against Leon’s skin. His eyes were unblinking as they commanded Leon’s attention. “I want to mend it. I have studied this for years, I know the power it holds, and it cannot fall into the wrong hands. We want the same thing, Leon. And with Ashley, and with the amber, we will achieve that. Together.”
Luis’ hand drifted off his gun, and it fell to Leon’s lap with his limp hand. A claw raked across the floor to the mess behind him, and without Luis having to look back, the appendage curled around something and brought it back to Luis’ side. Leon couldn’t bring himself to look away from Luis, though, pulled only to his hypnotic gaze.
“Together,” he repeated, pulling his gun out of his hand and pressing something else into his palm. “But I need you to trust me, partner.”
Partner.
Leon couldn’t move his head, so Luis brought their shared hands up to let him look at what he placed in it. It was the vial, now completely coated in blood, but he could just barely make out what looked like a floating rock inside. His hand clenched around it, and it was in that moment that he felt the last shreds of himself disappear to the tether. To Luis.
To Luis.
The hand pulled his head up suddenly, and without warning, their mouths collided together. At first, all he tasted was Luis’ blood. But then came something warm, something Luis fed him through his own lips. It tasted like smoke. He choked, and that bothering, absurd speck of lucidity reared up again that told him to struggle. To free himself from the web Luis was weaving around him.
“Breathe,” Luis commanded against his lips.
But why struggle when it was made for him?
The smoke filled his lungs, thick and staining. He took it all. Took it from his god’s lips like he was starving, suffering without it. His good, merciful god.
His veins ran black. It felt like coming home. His heart thumped slower in his chest, like it was lavishing every beat that pushed more of Luis through him.
Luis, Luis, Luis.
His body sang for him. His thoughts devoted. And when Luis slipped the vial back out of his hand and slipped it back into his jacket, he knew nothing but the thought that whatever Luis did next, it was right.
It would always be right.
His messiah needed a disciple and it was Leon.
Leon couldn’t feel his lips as they separated, could only feel the warm tether that linked him to Luis. His savior.
His savior that stood straight again, eyes glowing with warmth and light of a gracious god who had given him the answers of the universe. He stretched out his hand. “Come, Sancho,” he commanded. And when his body moved without his own involvement, he followed.
Followed on legs that felt strengthened and resolved, like he could run forever as long as it met Luis on the other side.
He reached out and grabbed his extended hand.
“We have a princess to save.”