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Chapter Text

Carlos Oliveira stepped out of his rental car and into the drizzling evening in Washington, DC, squinting under the bright pink neon coming down from the sign overhead. He glanced over the line of twenty-somethings in short skirts and leather pants waiting to pay the cover into the club, then touched the comm in his ear. “Are you sure this is the place?”

“I know what you’re thinking,” Ingrid Hunnigan replied wryly, fingers tapping away at her keyboard. He hadn’t had occasion to meet her in person yet, but Carlos knew that on top of being Leon’s FOS, she was managing STRATCOM’s glacially-slow conversion into some new entity governed by the Pentagon and not the White House–initiated by the newly-elected President Benford. “But this is where his GPS puts him. The rest is up to you.”

“Thank you, Ingrid,” Carlos said, swallowing hard. The phone in the pocket of his cargoes seemed to burn against his leg, weighty with the knowledge of what it held. “I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t think there was a real chance that–”

“I know.” Hunnigan’s interjection was gentle but firm, filled with sympathy. “Good luck, Carlos.”

She clicked off, and Carlos took a deep breath to steady himself. To say the past three years after losing Jill were hard would’ve been a criminal understatement, but Leon had definitely taken it the worst out of all of them. The only person he really kept in touch with outside of Hunnigan was Claire; Sherry was working as an agent out of STRATCOM’s satellite office in Guam, and her career choice coupled with the loss of Chris had driven a wedge between father and daughter.

“Here goes nothing,” Carlos muttered. He pulled five hundred bucks in cash from his pocket and strolled straight up to the bouncer like he belonged there, ignoring the protests of the kids who were in line. “Mind if I cut?”

The bouncer’s eyes caught on the money and he took it, flicking through the bills and nodding toward the door. “Have a good time.”

Carlos ducked inside and was immediately assaulted by the pounding bass of a vaguely familiar Top 10 track and multicolored lights that strobed to the beat. The dance floor dead ahead was packed with people, so he skirted around it and weighed his options between the bar or the bathrooms. He decided to start where it wasn’t weird to talk to another person, stepping up to the bar once there was a free spot. He took out his BSAA creds–which in the piss-poor lighting looked a lot like a police ID–and his phone, opened to a photo of Leon from before everything went to shit (again). “Hey, have you seen this guy?”

The bartender leaned in, squinting at the screen. “Yeah, but he doesn’t look like that,” he said, frowning a little in the face of Carlos’s confusion. “Longer hair, and he’s got a beard. He’s a regular here–double whiskey neat, none of that fruity shit.” A stage whisper: “Between you and me, I think he’s hooking. If he’s not at the bar, he’s out back in the alley.”

Carlos highly fucking doubted the prostitution portion of that theory, but the rest seemed sound. “Thanks.” He stuck a couple of twenties in the bartender’s tip jar and kept moving, dodging around the occasional drunken idiot or clumsy dancer. The door that led out to the alley was at the end of the corridor by the bathrooms, and he stepped outside just in time to see none other than Leon S. Kennedy himself get punched in the face. “ Hey !”

“That your fuckin’ boyfriend?” The man who had just struck Leon sneered, grabbing him by his shoulder-length hair and pulling him in uncomfortably close to his body. “He’s too late, you already–” He cut off abruptly, an expression twisted by cruelty slackening with shock. “Wait… but you drank it, I saw you–!”

A mocking snarl from Leon, paired with a flash of teeth. “Surprise, asshole.” He slammed his forehead into his assailant’s nose, then grabbed his arm and kicked out his knee at the same time, yanking the limb behind his back until Carlos heard his shoulder pop, driving him face-first into the pavement. “Listen to me, because I’m only going to fucking say it once: this is the last goddamn time you try to roofie someone. Do it again, I’ll know–and I’ll shove my knife so far up your ass you’ll taste it in your throat before you choke on your own shit.” More pressure, another shoulder creak, and a bleating wail from the man beneath Leon’s boot. “Understand?”

“ Fuck –shit, yes , okay!” Snot and blood bubbled beneath the man’s face, and knowing what he was, Carlos felt no sympathy. “I swear, no more! Just let me go!”

For a second, Carlos thought Leon might not… but then he stood up, raised hands protected by leather motorcycle gloves. “ Go ,” he growled, and the mess on the ground scrambled to his feet and bolted through the gate in the chain link fence, bolting into the night. “Not sure that lesson’s gonna stick. Thanks a lot.” 

“What the fuck , Leon?” Carlos snapped, full of ire even as he closed the distance between them. He made sure his friend saw it coming before he touched his face, feeling around his rapidly-bruising right eye for any cracks to the socket. “Shit, when I first saw you I thought he had drugged you. What are you doing out here, man?”

“Reforming the populace?” Leon huffed when Carlos shot him a sharp look, taking a hair tie off his wrist and using it to pull his hair back into a low ponytail once Carlos had finished his examination. The beard was even more prominent then, and so was the way Leon’s gaze darted into the shadows. “I have to do something when I’m not in the field. If I don’t, all I think about is–” His voice died in his throat, and he dipped the toe of his boot into a nearby puddle. “Well. You know.”

“Yeah.” Carlos’s voice was rough, his hand moving to rest on Leon’s good shoulder. He grasped the leather of his jacket and shook him a little. “I do know… which is why I’m here.” He used his free hand to pull out his phone again, flicking away from the image of Leon and to a different one with his thumb. “This screenshot is from a security camera in the Kijuju Autonomous Zone. I’m heading there right after this to investigate potential BOW smuggling, so BSAA West Africa pulled all the intel they could… and they found this.”

Leon squinted at the sudden brightness of the device, then froze when he comprehended what he was looking at. “That’s… not possible,” he said slowly, breathlessly, a shaking hand curling around the phone so he could examine it more closely. “It can’t be.”

“It’s not proof, but it’s damn close,” Carlos said, allowing Leon to clutch his phone like a lifeline and letting go of his jacket, finally convinced he wasn’t about to bolt. “So… you coming with me? Because if Jack Krauser is alive, the only way he might listen to reason is if you’re there.”

Leon swallowed hard, then nodded. “Let me get my shit.”

~***~

Less than an hour later, they were in the air and en route to Kijuju.

Leon slumped down in a window seat on the BSAA’s private jet, piloted by someone he didn’t know; Kirk Mathison, everyone’s favorite crazy airman, was already deployed in West Africa supporting Alpha Team. The rest of the plane was empty, which was a little surprising; when Carlos had said he was going over to start an investigation, Leon had presumed he’d be bringing a team with him.

“Less obtrusive if I’m alone,” the man in question said, dropping into the seat across from Leon. He looked good, all things considered, still shaggy-haired and devastatingly handsome. “Or in this case, with a buddy. Either way, we’re gonna stick out like sore thumbs down there–you especially. But we’ll be meeting up with an operative from the West African branch who’s going to be our guide.”

Leon nodded, his trigger finger tapping on the end of his armrest. “For a split second before you showed me that picture, I thought…” He trailed off, the ever-present, gaping maw that sat where his heart used to be throbbing with a familiar pain. “Never mind.”

Carlos looked at him steadily. “You wanted it to be Chris.” A statement, not a question. When Leon nodded again, he heaved out a sigh and looked toward the star-filled night sky they were gliding through. “I wanted it to be Jill. I’m still not convinced they died that night, but every time I bring it up at work, O’Brian looks at me like he’s one wrong move away from throwing me in the nuthouse.”

 “Same.” Leon heard the gravel in his voice and fought to clear it; that was the first sign he’d gone too long without a drink, but if they were hunting BOW smugglers and Krauser, he needed his wits about him. A little cold turkey never killed anyone… and if he really needed it, his flask was in his hip pouch. “I mean… their bodies were never recovered, and neither was Wesker’s. It’s possible –but if they’re alive, then where the hell are they? I’ve looked everywhere .” That last word was almost a sob, and he sucked in a breath, the hole inside him widening with another microscopic tear. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Carlos said quickly, his tone so gentle it made Leon flinch like he’d been struck. He didn’t deserve that sort of kindness, not with the mess he’d become after losing Chris to the churning sea and Sherry to the grasp of the government. “I have, too. Turned over what feels like every rock on the planet, and nothing.” A pause. “I like the hair. Not so sure about the beard though.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.” Leon said it with a snort and they both chuckled, with him tapping his boot against Carlos’s afterward. “Thanks. For bringing me along. I really can’t sit at home when I’m not on a mission, all I do is…”

“Drink?” Carlos guessed after Leon trailed off, shrugging a shoulder when he looked at him in surprise. “Hunnigan told me. And I can’t say I haven’t hit the bottle myself… but alcoholism doesn’t run in my family.”

“I’m being careful.” Leon deliberately did not look toward where his bag was stowed away. “I don’t get wasted in the field, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m worried about you , Leon.” Carlos sat forward, hands clasped between his knees. “You’re one of the only friends I have left, you know? I can’t lose you too.” He tapped Leon’s boot back. “Now, why don’t you tell me about what’s been happening with your old man?”

~***~

In a broken-down warehouse in Kijuju, two figures slowly circled a third driven to his knees on the filthy floor. They’d infected him via injection a handful of minutes prior, and watched dispassionately through the red lenses of their black birdlike masks as he began to twitch. A clumsy hand shot out to grab at the smaller figure’s wrist in a plea for mercy, but she yanked it away. The man on the floor doubled over and began to vomit brackish liquid and juvenile Uroboros parasites, which was their cue to leave. 

After all, mercy was a foreign concept to Jill Valentine and Chris Redfield.

Chapter Text

Leon had half-expected their guide from the BSAA’s West African branch to meet them at the airport, but instead, he and Carlos had been confronted with a beat-up looking Humvee and a map of the area. After playing a quick round of rock-paper-scissors to see who got to drive (Leon, much to Carlos’s chagrin), they zipped across the savannah on a long stretch of dirt road. The Kijuju Autonomous Zone rose like a specter on the horizon, and Leon eased his foot off the gas as he suddenly found himself navigating around rows of buildings, merchant stalls, and tired-looking locals.

“There used to be an Umbrella base in this area, right?” Leon asked, parking where Carlos pointed and cutting the engine. He felt eyes on them already and they hadn’t even stepped out into the dry heat yet. “That’s why the Global Pharmaceutical Consortium sent you guys here?”

“And the UN, but yeah, as of right now the GPC provides most of the funding.” Carlos hopped out and Leon followed, the two going around to the back to grab the gear they could carry comfortably; for Leon, that was the Silver Ghost in his thigh holster, a small waist bag containing first aid supplies and his flask, a knife strapped to his ankle under his jeans, and another under his left arm, concealed by the palm frond-patterned button down he had on over a beige t-shirt. “Supposedly all the bad shit got routed out, which is why it’s weird that–” He cut off abruptly, turning at the same time Leon did to see they were no longer alone. “Oh, hey.”

“Welcome to Africa.” A woman about their age with rich brown skin and kind hazel eyes smiled at them, extending a hand protected by fingerless combat gloves. “My name is Sheva Alomar.”

“Carlos Oliveria.” Carlos shook her hand firmly, gesturing to Leon with a tilt of his head. “This is Leon S. Kennedy, from USSTRATCOM.”

“Agent Kennedy, your reputation precedes you.” From the way Sheva said it, that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. She held onto Leon’s hand for a beat too long, studying his face closely; he had the impression that not much got by her. “What’s your interest in all of this?”

“I’m here to help Carlos,” Leon replied, deciding honesty was the best policy. “And I’m looking for someone.” He took his phone from his pocket, holding it out to show her the screenshot of Jack. “Have you seen this guy? He’s… an old friend.”

Sheva studied the image for a moment, then shook her head. “I’m afraid I haven’t. But even wearing that cloak to conceal most of himself, he’d stand out here. Perhaps we’ll spot him on our way.” She set off down the road, expecting them to follow–which they did, a bit hastily. “Tensions are running high ever since the change in government.”

“I’ll bet,” Carlos said, tucking the map away in his back pocket. “Intel says this place is a haven for terrorists now.”

“And they’re not gonna be happy to see a couple of Americans, BSAA or otherwise.” Sheva glanced back at them, golden earrings jangling. “That’s why I’m on your team, to help put them at ease.” They approached a fortified gate topped with barbed wire, and an armed guard stepped out to halt them; when he got handsy patting her down, both Carlos and Leon stepped forward to intervene, but she pushed him off herself and snapped, “Don’t need to get touchy. Here.” She handed him several notes of local currency and kept moving. “Let’s go.”

They were no sooner through the checkpoint than their comms buzzed to life in their ears, with Kirk’s voice filtering through a second later: “This is Kirk–Carlos, Leon, Sheva, can you read me?”

“Leon here.” Leon’s eyes scanned their surroundings in quadrants, noticing that while the buildings in this area were packed less tightly together, they were also taller. Pros and cons if something went wrong–and it always did. “Coming in loud and clear, Kirk.”

“Glad to hear it, Ghosty,” the pilot teased, referencing Leon’s unfortunate nickname in the intelligence community. “Listen, there’s a black market weapons deal going down in Kijuju. Alpha Team has already infiltrated the area, and you’ll be going in as backup. Rendezvous with your contact at the butcher’s shop–you can gear up and get briefed on the mission there. Watch your backs!”

“You can say that again,” Carlos muttered, picking up on the same vibe Leon was getting. While the locals they’d seen initially looked more beaten-down than anything else, the people on this side of the checkpoint seemed… more sinister, many baring their teeth and bugging out their eyes as they passed. “If Krauser is here, he must’ve avoided this area. Somehow I doubt it would’ve ended well if he hadn’t.”

They went around the side of the butcher’s shop to get inside, nudging through the door to find their contact waiting on the other side. He was dressed like a local but that was where the resemblance ended, and as soon as they were inside he headed around a putrid side of beef. “Good, you’re all here. This way.” He brought them over to a table with some equipment laid out, including a couple of hand grenades and three bulletproof vests. “It may be because of the new government, but people around here are a little on edge.”

“Yeah, they really roll out the red carpet for us Americans,” Leon muttered as he shrugged into the provided body armor. A little big on his slimmer frame–he’d lost weight since he’d lost Chris–but he could make it work.

Sheva shot him a wry look, then glanced at their contact. “Destination coordinates?”

Their contact folded his arms. “Town square’s up ahead. Go through that door–Alpha Team’s waiting at the deal location.” A pause. “What do you know about Uroboros?”

That got Carlos’s attention. “Mostly just rumors,” he began, which was what Leon would’ve said too. “Something about visions of a doomsday project?”

“ Doomsday sounds about right, and apparently it is no rumor.” Their contact looked deeply disturbed by his own words, but spoke them nonetheless. “You must find a man named Irving–he is our only lead.” With that, he headed for the door they had entered the butcher’s shop through. “And be careful out there.”

~***~

They made it down a single staircase before they encountered their first corpse. It belonged to a goat, one that had been tied up and decapitated. A group of ravens was pecking at its fetid innards but flew off when they got close.

“Still warm,” Leon observed, having had far too much experience with dead animals back in Valdelobos. He had the passing thought that if Chris were there he would’ve been disturbed not by the rot, but by the birds; he still carried the trauma of the Spencer Mansion in the form of a phobia of corvids. “Why’s it here?”

“Dunno,” Carlos muttered, tightening his grip on his pistol. “Keep your guard up.”

The three of them made their way through a tangle of slapdash buildings, eventually coming to another staircase in time to hear a strangled cry of distress. “It came from up there,” Sheva observed, and they climbed up as a unit to bust through the door. When they got inside, they were greeted by the sight of two men holding a third down on the floor, the one with his back to them shoving something wriggling into the prone man’s mouth. “Freeze!”

The men responsible for the attack took off but the victim stayed, choking and coughing and clawing at his throat; when Carlos took a half-step forward to try and help, Leon grabbed him by the arm and shook his head, dread growing steadily in his chest. In the next few seconds, the local was bleeding from every orifice, eyes going dull and unfocused before turning a bright, angry crimson. He clambered to his feet and lunged for them with an animalistic snarl, only to be riddled with bullets from three guns an instant later.

“What the hell just happened?” Carlos sounded a little shaken up, looking at Leon with wide eyes. “They didn’t move like any zombies I’ve ever seen.”

“I have a theory,” Leon said slowly. He moved to take the lead and neither Carlos nor Sheva stopped him. “But I need to see them up close. Let’s go.”

~***~

After narrowly avoiding a handful of rabid locals and blocking off their path behind them, Carlos radioed Kirk: “Come in, Kirk. The locals were hostile and we had to use force–we don’t have any contingency plans for this situation, do we?”

“Roger on the locals,” Kirk replied, already sounding apologetic for what he was going to say next, “but your orders still stand.”

“The hell does that mean?” Leon couldn’t help the ire in his voice, and it was goddamn justified; if he was right about what was going on, they had just stepped in a major pile of shit. “Was the BSAA expecting this?”

“That’s above my pay grade, I’m afraid.” If Kirk had been in front of them, Leon imagined, he would’ve been nodding rapidly. “Lemme know when you need me. Kirk out.”

“Terrific,” Sheva muttered, helping Leon kick in a particularly stubborn door so they could continue on. There was a new noise, rising slowly in pitch the closer they got to the source, and as they entered a new building and approached a window, they saw what it was–a huge mob of locals in the town square, all with the same bloodshot eyes and raised veins, being incensed by a man on a high platform with a megaphone. And next to him was their contact, pinned down and begging for his life as a hooded giant wielded an almost comically large axe over him. “Wait a minute, that’s the–!”

This time Carlos held her back. “There’s nothing we can do, it’s too–” They all flinched when the axe came down, beheading their BSAA ally. “ Shit .” Suddenly the man with the megaphone began pointing in their direction and shouting with renewed vigor, dozens of red-eyed locals whipping around to sprint toward them. “Double shit–get ready, here they come!”

Chapter Text

“Well, you got your wish!” Sheva shouted a couple of minutes later as she and Leon sprinted away from the axe-wielding giant who had killed their contact, Carlos taking out locals at random from the top of a nearby shack. “We’re definitely seeing them up close!”

Leon let out a slightly hysterical bark of laughter, stabbing a howling woman through one of her red eyes as she lunged for him. “This is just like Valdelobos all over again!” he called back, the face Sheva made confirming that she’d read the Kennedy Report. “Only these guys are a lot faster, and there weren’t this many fucking little buildings!”

“Hang in there!” Kirk’s voice rang in their ears, his chopper’s blades audible in the background. He was hurrying his ass off so he could take out the large sealed gate that was their only exit out of this particularly hellish area. “I’m almost there! Look around and see if Alpha Team left any weapons behind!”

As if prompted by those words, the shine of a silver gun case caught Leon’s eye and he veered toward it, flipping it open to find a submachine gun. Not the most powerful thing nor his favorite, but its rapid firing rate would be helpful. Slinging the strap over his shoulder, he turned and pressed the trigger, taking out a couple hostiles who were about to sneak up on Carlos. 

That prompted him to jump down and rejoin the party, until the noise of the helicopter became audible above them and Kirk called through the comms, “I’m gonna take out the gate! Find some cover!”

Carlos grabbed Sheva and Leon by the back of their vests and dragged them behind a section of metal scaffolding, the three of them curling together as the explosion rocked everything around them. As soon as the debris was done flying they booked it through the newly created opening, making their way up and around on a winding dirt path to the next door. As they pushed through it into a more urban-looking area, they were forced to listen while Alpha Team was slowly eradicated by something , Kirk calling frantically for Captain DeChant with no answer.

They found a shotgun hidden away in a dilapidated apartment building, and Leon passed the submachine gun to Sheva in favor of the boomstick; it was a single-barrel and reminded him a little bit of the tactical shotgun he’d wielded in Spain. Unlike Spain, the young blonde girl they attempted to rescue wound up turning, her head splitting into a writhing tower of tentacles and claws that was cut down by buckshot.

Amid Kirk’s request for all reinforcements to converge on the deal location, Carlos found a rusty door that brought them into a concrete basement that had once belonged to a building of high-end condos. Now it was an almost unrecognizable hovel, one they raced through when screaming reached their ears from an upper level. The scene they found was stomach-churning: dead BSAA soldiers scattered around like broken dolls and covered in black slime, with one gored through the side but still clinging to life, leaning up against the far wall.

Leon slung his shotgun over his shoulder and closed the distance, dropping into a crouch next to the injured man. He was fading fast, so Leon grasped his shoulders and tilted him toward him, trying to get his attention. “Hey, who did this?”

“Something attacked us…” A deep, sucking breath. “Irving… he got away… it was a setup.”

“A setup?” Carlos repeated, gun held at port arms while Sheva kept an eye on the hallway. “What do you mean?”

The fallen soldier handed Leon a thin plastic square–a hard drive, he realized–and continued, “That’s… data regarding the deal. I downloaded it… from their computer.” Another horrible wheeze. “You’ve… gotta get it to HQ.”

With that, he died.

“I saw someone, but they ran into the elevator,” Sheva said after a beat of silence, looking just as disturbed as Leon felt. “Shall we go after them?”

“Hang on a sec.” Carlos tapped his comm. “Kirk, do you copy? We’ve got the data, but Alpha Team is down, and Irving got away.”

Kirk swore colorfully. “Roger. Relay the data from the vehicle at the storage facility–I’ll send you the coordinates.”

“Copy that,” Leon replied, and once Carlos cut the transmission, he sighed and pushed to his feet. “I have a bad feeling about all of this… but we have to keep moving. Let’s find that elevator.”

~***~

Long story short, the elevator took them straight into hell.

Not literally , of course, but Leon was fairly certain if hell existed it was something similar: a darkened maze of corridors that terminated with another pile of corpses, an industrial furnace, and a monster twice his size that appeared to be made entirely out of squirming tentacles. Between the three of them they managed to lure it into the furnace and seal both doors, with Carlos rolling out from beneath one just in time to avoid getting fried.

They moved on, traipsing around more bodies and jumping every time steam shot out of the pipeworks that followed the corridor they were in. Thankfully, it proved to be a relatively short walk to the next elevator, and this one took them up instead of down; it also brought them straight into the storage facility Kirk had referenced earlier, with two Humvees that presumably transported Alpha Team to their doom waiting for them.

“Got the computer,” Leon said after a peek through one of the passenger windows, opening up the door and inserting the hard drive, then turning his body sideways so Carlos could fit in next to him and tap in his authorization codes. “Well, this has been fun so far. Makes me miss getting shitfaced.”

“What was that thing?” Sheva wondered, keeping her gun trained on the garage door at the opposite end of the warehouse.

“A BOW that scumbag Irving left behind to set us up,” Carlos replied, shaking his head a little. “And considering what it did to Alpha Team, I’d say we’re lucky to still be breathing.” Once he saw that the data had uploaded successfully, he tapped his comm. “Carlos to HQ, do you copy?”

“HQ here.” It took Leon a second to place the voice that spoke–Angela Miller, former SRT agent turned BSAA operative thanks to none other than Chris Redfield, who’d recruited her after their adventure together during a bioterrorism incident a few years back at Dulles International Airport. “Great work out there–we’ll analyze the data you sent over immediately.”

“Hey, Angela.” Leon leaned against the body of the Humvee while he reloaded his shotgun. “Long time no see. O’Brian got you playing desk jockey now that Nivans is in the field?”

“Don’t worry, it’s temporary. Got my leg broken a few weeks ago, and I couldn’t sit at home anymore.” Some typing on her end, then, “So how bad is it down there?”

“The whole place has gone to hell,” Carlos replied tersely, clearly trying to rein in his anger for Angela’s sake since she was a friend. “The people here are acting like the Ganados Leon wrote about in the Kennedy Report, and aside from that, there’s something new–something bad that we haven’t encountered before.”

“I don’t mean to pile on,” Kirk interjected, tuning into their frequency and speaking in a way that meant he was definitely piling on, “but my chopper’s in rough shape–let’s just say when I was trying to get to Alpha Team I wound up making an emergency water landing. Not gonna be able to provide exfil after all.”

There was a beat of silence on Angela’s end as she received their orders, and she let out a nearly inaudible sigh. “The mission stands. Capturing Irving is your top priority.” More typing. “We believe he may have fled to the mines on the other side of the train station–”

“It’s only the three of us!” Sheva exclaimed, ire and confusion creasing her brow. “You want us to go in there alone ?”

“Delta Team have been dispatched and are on their way,” Angela said, tone apologetic and perhaps a little frustrated on their behalf. “They’ll assist you with locating and apprehending Irving–and Kirk, their bird is coming to exfil you ASAP.” She lowered her voice. “Look, I don’t like it either, but these orders are coming from over Director O’Brian’s head. Proceed to the mines beyond the station. Over and out.”

~***~

It didn’t take long for them to decide they needed to keep going whether they wanted to or not.

Leon personally didn’t give a shit about orders since they were coming from another organization, but he did care about potentially locating Krauser, and the best way to do that was to find the guy who knew the most about BOW activity in the area–which just happened to be Irving. Besides, Carlos had gone out of his way to share that screenshot with Leon, and the last thing Leon was going to do was fuck over his friend.

Discovering a machine gun helped ease some of the tension, with Carlos keeping this one since it was full-sized and big enough for his hands. Then they exited the storage facility and found themselves standing on a small, somewhat useless loading dock that overlooked the ocean. Way in the distance was a column of smoke that most likely belonged to Kirk and his floating wreck of a helicopter.

They moved on, winding their way through a maze of shipping containers laced with tripwires and infected locals shooting flaming arrows. That was–well, it wasn’t fine , but Leon could deal with it. The dogs that charged him afterward, with their heads and necks split open to reveal gnashing teeth and whipping tongues? They had his nerves jangling just like the zombified Dobermans of the RPD, but his aim never wavered as he blasted them apart with his shotgun.

The next gate took them to a dilapidated bridge, and before Leon could reload, an out of control cargo truck came barreling toward them. “ Shit !”

“Get down!” As soon as Leon dropped, Carlos used his machine gun to blow up some barrels of fuel, tipping the truck on its side and stopping it in its tracks. He grasped Leon by the arm to help him up while Sheva started picking off the new wave of enemies headed their way. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” When Carlos shot him a look full of wry disbelief, Leon shrugged his good shoulder. “I’ll live.” A short pause, then: “Thanks, though. For asking, and for the assist. Don’t get a lot of that at work, except maybe from Hunnigan.”

“Well that’s shitty.” Carlos socked him lightly in the bicep as they rejoined the fray. “As long as we’re together, we’re a team. Now give ‘em hell.”

Chapter Text

One flashback-filled trip through the sewers later and the three of them popped up in what looked to be a coastal fishing village (because that had gone so well for Leon the last time) that doubled as a market. And to Leon’s surprise, he immediately recognized the area–not because it looked like Valdelobos, but because the central square had been in the background of the grainy security camera screenshot of Jack.

He could tell Carlos recognized it too by the way he did a slow turn to take in their surroundings fully. “This is where Krauser was,” he said, eyes skipping around until they locked on the biggest building, directly across from the locked gate to the port. “And that’s a security camera. Question is, what was he doing here?”

“Occam’s razor,” Sheva said, tipping her chin toward the stalls full of rotting fruit and fish. “Sometimes the simplest answer is correct–perhaps he was getting supplies. Let me see the picture again?” Leon dutifully pulled out his phone to show her, and she shifted her gun to one hand to tap the screen with a fingernail. “See that bundle under his arm, hidden by the cloak? Looks like food to me.”

“Awful lot of food for one guy, even if he is a BOW,” Carlos commented, frowning a little. “You think–” He cut off abruptly, attention caught by the reflection from the keys they needed, hanging off a corpse dangling from the ceiling inside the building with the camera. “We’ll circle back to this later. It’s too damn quiet here, and I don’t like it.”

And as it turned out, he had every reason not to: as soon as they managed to get in and grab those keys, they were swarmed by another horde of angry infected. Thankfully, the keys got them down the dock to the boats, which they were able to hop across while dodging and killing regular locals as well as ones that mutated into flying monstrosities that looked somewhat similar to the Novistadores from Spain, except without any limbs. Quick as a blink they had backup in the form of a second helicopter sent by BSAA HQ (to which Carlos sarcastically remarked that he hadn’t been sure HQ gave a damn about them), but just as fast the bird was downed and their orders shifted: head to the crash site.

“Easier said than done,” Leon remarked after kicking in the only door that would take them forward, which opened into the public first floor of what had once been a nice mixed-use building, with shops on the bottom and apartments upstairs. But much like every other building they’d entered, it was fetid with rotting bodies and feces, the stench only amplified by the relentless heat. He popped a round between the eyes of an infected, then spotted a sniper rifle standing up in a nearby corner. “Hey there, sexy.”

“Seriously?” Sheva sounded far too amused as she watched him pick up the big wooden bolt-action and examine it, slinging it over his free shoulder when he determined that it was serviceable. “I like a nice gun as much as the next person, but come on.”

Leon stuck his tongue out at her and chuckled when she rolled her eyes, reminded of Claire’s typical response to his nonsense. They continued all the way to the third floor, and finally spotted the gate that would take them into the next area; the only problem was, the door out into the street from their building was locked and they hadn’t found any keys.

“Lemme toss one of you over there,” Carlos said, nodding toward the balcony of their building’s twin, just across the street but too far to reach by jumping. He dropped to one knee and cupped his hands, quirking a brow. “Want to flip a quarter?”

~***~

Sheva was the one who wound up going over to the neighboring building, simply because Leon had the sniper rifle and the experience with it to give her cover. Unfortunately, no matter where any of them went, they all wound up back on the ground, dumping ammo into a gigantic hooded asshole swinging around a chainsaw. (Was there a secret club for these guys that Leon didn’t know about?)

Killing Mr. Chainsaw got them another key, and this one took them through a small garage and to a much larger sliding gate–one that separated them from the billowing black smoke of the helicopter wreck. One look told Leon that any attempt to rescue the pilot would be futile, and he was suddenly intensely thankful Kirk had gotten shot down when he had, and over water.

It took the three of them to move the sliding gate, and once they were through they stopped just short of the burning wreck. “Oh my god…” Sheva murmured, eyes lighting on the burnt and mangled corpse of the helicopter pilot on top of a pyre of tires, mouth frozen in a silent scream.

The cackling of ravens prevented them from lingering on the gruesome sight, the birds swarming before they were scared off by the roar of approaching motorcycles. It was only then that the explosive barrels staggered around them and the blocked exits made sense, and the next thing Leon knew there was an infected wielding a chain flying through the air toward them on a bike, and Carlos was pushing him and Sheva out of the way.

“ Shit !” Leon pushed himself to his feet as Carlos was dragged away behind the motorcycle with the chain wrapped around his ankle, aiming down the Silver Ghost’s sights and firing a single round to sever the links. “You good?”

“Fuckin’ peachy!” Carlos accepted Sheva’s hand up and the three of them stood back-to-back as a half-dozen infected on bikes roared and tried to strafe them–only for one of them to be cut down by a sniper shot, head exploding mid-wheelie. “What the hell?!”

“Delta Team!” Sheva exclaimed, taking out another biker herself. Sure enough, a couple dozen BSAA personnel in combat fatigues had blown their way through a nearby door and were coming toward them. “Just in time, too.”

~***~

“Wow, for once I’m actually glad to see you guys,” Leon commented a while later, once they were holed up in Delta Team’s safehouse. He walked up to the team’s captain with Carlos and Sheva, skipping the salute and going for a handshake instead. “Leon S. Kennedy, USSTRATCOM.”

“On loan to us, I hear,” the captain replied, taking his sarcasm in stride and shaking his hand firmly. “But also here for a personal matter. I’m afraid I haven’t seen your missing man.”

“You just saved our asses,” Carlos pointed out, and introduced himself. “I think we can let that go.”

“Thanks, Josh.” Sheva smiled fondly at the captain. When Carlos and Leon looked at her in surprise, she explained, “I trained under Captain Stone. He taught me everything I know.”

Josh huffed in amusement. “Only when you weren’t busy running circles around me.” He sobered quickly. “Now, Sheva, you must continue your search for Irving.” Reaching into a pocket on his vest, he produced a small hard drive. “According to the information on this, we believe he has moved on to the mining area.” He held it out to Carlos. “There’s more info inside. We’ll follow after taking care of business here, so keep your radio handy just in case.”

“Appreciate it, man,” Carlos said. He waited until Delta Team cleared out before inserting the drive into a port on the bottom of his phone, Leon and Sheva pressing up against him on either side to get a look at the screen as the files inside it opened up. “Let’s see what we’ve got here, and…”

Carlos’s voice died in his throat at the same time that the hole inside Leon’s chest collapsed in on itself. Mixed in with data logs and a map was a grayish-green photograph, split to show two subjects in separate locations. They both appeared to be suspended in some kind of liquid or gel, eyes closed as if they were sleeping. 

 Jill Valentine and Chris Redfield, back from the dead.

Chapter Text

Leon couldn’t breathe.

He tried to pull in air but all that happened was he let out a harsh, gasping noise that was dangerously close to a sob, slapping a filthy hand over his mouth to contain anything else. Beside him Carlos was rigid like a statue, save for a light trembling that began to run through his broad frame. As for Sheva–

Well, Sheva was confused, and rightfully so: “Leon? Carlos? What is it?”

“These pictures…” Carlos’s voice broke, and he had to clear his throat and try again: “They’re BSAA operatives, people we thought were dead–Jill Valentine and Chris Redfield.”

“They’re the ones who took out Albert Wesker, right?” Sheva studied the photos for a moment before she touched his arm, shooting Leon a sympathetic look too. “Damn. In that case, I suppose this is all the more reason to find Irving.”

“Yeah, it is.” Leon was amazed that he was able to speak at all, mind reeling in a way that he was usually able to compartmentalize away in the field. He bumped his shoulder against Carlos’s in an effort to reassure him before moving toward the exit. “Sheva, do you know how to get to the mines?”

“They’re not far from here,” she replied, taking Leon’s six while Carlos guarded their flank. “We just need to get through the trainyard.”

Barking reached their ears, and Leon sighed. “Looks like we’re going up, then.”

They proceeded to do a shit ton of climbing over defunct cargo cars, disabling tripwires and killing infected hounds along the way. Dropping down on the other side of the fence revealed what looked to be a back entrance to the mines in the form of an elevator, and when they rode it to the bottom they found themselves in near-complete darkness. The temperature dropped rapidly as well, leaving them shivering in their sweaty clothes.

Carlos grabbed a nearby lantern, and they all breathed a sigh of relief when it turned out the battery was charged. Then they were moving, trudging through slimy waist-high water and fighting more infected locals who were lurking in the shadows. Their phones were useless so far underground, but they were able to follow a flow of slightly fresher air all the way to the actual mineshaft.

Naturally, as soon as they walked in they were ambushed again, and this time most of the infected were wielding crossbows equipped with flaming arrows. A pain in the ass, sure, but nothing they couldn’t fight their way through, and soon enough they were ascending the shaft and clambering into another elevator–this one mercifully went up instead of down. On top of that, when the doors opened again, they were back on the surface and directly across from what had to be the foreman’s office.

They burst through the door as a unit, and Leon found himself leveling his gun at a dorky little guy in an ugly mismatched suit, complete with pinstripe pants. “Let me guess–you’re Irving?”

“Wow, perceptive, aren’t cha?” Not only did he look like a dork, he talked like one too.

Sheva took a step forward, lip curled in a snarl. “You think this is a joke? You’re just like all the other shitty terrorists out there.”

Irving let out a high-pitched little giggle, waving his gun back and forth between them recklessly. “Oh, I’m not like them! I’m a businessman–with standards .”

Carlos let out a low growl. “Drop the weapon, now .”

A pair of canisters smashed through one of the windows behind Irving, immediately filling the office with tear gas. Eyes and lungs burning, Leon dove for cover, but managed to watch through involuntary tears as two black-clad figures tumbled through the broken glass. The larger one grabbed Irving and hauled him back the way they came, while the smaller of the two tossed another canister behind them for good measure before making their escape.

It happened fast–so fast none of them had been able to get a shot off, and yet… there was something familiar to Leon about those individuals in the bird masks. Especially the larger one…

 “ Shit !” Sheva exclaimed, coughing as the three of them bolted toward the window, trying to get eyes on the trio with no luck. “Looks like Irving has partners.”

Swiping at his eyes with the back of his arm, Leon doubled back toward the desk in the middle of the room. “There must be something here he didn’t want us to see.” He flipped open a leather folio and ran across some aerial photographs, as well as a map with a red circle drawn around it, TEST CASE 1 written in a hasty scrawl. “Here, look at this.”

“What is it?” Sheva came to his side to look, Carlos peering over their shoulders. As soon as she took a peek she exhaled harshly. “The oil field… that’s in the marshlands.”

Carlos grimaced and tightened his grip on his weapon. “Then I guess we know where we’re going next.”

~***~ 

Like most things in the field, that was easier said than done.

Not only did they have to mow their way through more infected–this time armed with military-grade turrets, of all things–but it wasn’t over once they reached the highest road on the mountainside. No, instead an armored truck came barreling toward them at full speed. It crashed, tipping over on its side, but what came crawling out of the back was the stuff of nightmares. It looked like a cross between a bat and a bug, which wouldn’t have been so bad except it was the size of a SUV and very, very angry.

“What is that?!” Carlos exclaimed as it burst off the truck and into the air, screaming down at them menacingly.

“I’ve learned it’s better not to ask!” Leon shouted in response, backflipping out of the way when the creature dove at them, forcing the group apart. “But whatever it is, I’m sure it’s Irving’s fault!” They learned quickly through trial and error that shooting the big flappy thing did fuck all to damage it, but at one point when it zoomed over his head, Leon noticed that its underbelly glowed a faint orange color and seemed vulnerable. “We need to flip it when it’s on the ground!”

“Let’s use these!” Sheva rushed out of a nearby shed with an armload of proximity bombs, and quickly set about rigging up a trap. Working together, they were able to corral the beast once it landed and got it to crawl over the bombs, allowing them to pummel its underside with bullets once it got blasted. Eventually it had enough and tried to escape by going back to the truck, only for it and the vehicle to go plummeting off the cliff and into the ravine below. “Is it–?”

Before she could finish her question, another engine roared toward them–only this one belonged to a Humvee, with a BSAA operative behind the wheel. “Hey! Get in!” The three of them traded a glance before clambering up into the back of the vehicle, maneuvering around the gatling gun mounted to the bed. As soon as they were seated, their new friend took off toward the sunset, saying, “I heard about Irving. Tough break.”

“Yes, but there will be other opportunities.” Sheva’s voice was firm as she tapped her comm. “Sheva to headquarters.”

Angela spoke into their ears a beat later: “This is HQ. What’s your situation?”

“There’s a high probability that Irving is on his way to an oil field in the marshlands,” Sheva explained. “We’re going to rendezvous with Delta Team and head there now.”

“Understood.” A pause, then: “Be careful. HQ out.”

And as if summoned by those words, motorcycles began pouring into the savannah around them.

~***~

After blowing up several trucks and dozens of bikes loaded by angry infected, blasting their way through a checkpoint, and jumping the gap in a broken-down bridge, Leon and the others found themselves rolling back into Kijuju under cloud cover and darkness.

 “Something’s wrong,” he murmured, the hair on the back of his neck rising. He tightened his grip on the Silver Ghost, looking beyond the glow of the Humvee’s headlights and exhaling sharply when he saw the first body, followed by another–both BSAA operatives, crushed to death by something much bigger than them. “Watch yourselves.”

More corpses were littered on either side of the abandoned street, and when their driver stopped the Humvee, the four of them tumbled out to get a closer look. “They haven’t been dead long,” Carlos reported after brushing his fingers over an exposed arm. “Still warm.” The buildings around them trembled, the ground shaking beneath their feet. “The hell is that?”

Before anyone could respond, one of Delta Team’s abandoned Humvees went flying through the air like a toy car, narrowly missing taking them all out. And just as Leon turned to check on their driver, he got sprayed with the man’s blood and guts as he was squashed under the gigantic foot of a troll. It looked almost identical to the one Leon and Chris had fought in Valdelobos, except this one had taken to wearing corpses on its belt.

“Oh shit !” Sheva unloaded her minigun on the creature, but its hide was too thick to be pierced by regular rounds. “Get to the truck!”

The three of them bolted back toward the Humvee, jumping up into the bed in an adrenaline-fueled. While Sheva took up the gatling gun, Leon set up his sniper rifle on the back of Carlos’s broad shoulders, struck by an intense memory of doing something similar with Chris. He forced himself to shake it off, staring down the sights at the first of a few fuel-filled barrels scattered around the area.

That ugly son of a bitch didn’t know who he was messing with, but he was about to find out.

Chapter Text

The good news was, they managed to kill the troll much more easily than Leon had expected; the bad news was, when it fell over dead, it crushed the Humvee. Not an insurmountable problem since they were heading for the marshlands anyway, but it would’ve been nice to have a bug-out vehicle waiting for them when they returned. Pushing himself up from his impromptu dive into the dirt, Leon watched for a second as Sheva took a few slow steps through the corpses littered nearby, no doubt hoping she wouldn’t find Josh among them.

“Sheva,” Carlos began hesitantly once he was on his feet too, “you don’t have to do this, you know. This thing with Krauser, and Jill and Chris–we’ve got a personal stake in it. But you can still back out.”

“A personal stake ?” Sheva repeated incredulously, turning to look at them with a raised eyebrow and spreading her hands. “Carlos, look around! We should all get the hell out of here.”

“We can’t.” Leon’s voice went tight, and he knew he was going to have to come clean. He could only hope her reaction wouldn’t be ugly. “Look… Jack Krauser, he’s the man who trained me to be what I am. He was also… we had a relationship, a long time ago. A romantic one. And Chris…” Here Leon had to pause to collect himself, hand rubbing at the scar where the plagas had been burned from his body. Beneath it was where the black hole resided, gnawing endlessly on his insides. “Chris means everything to me. I love him more than I can express in words.”

“I feel the same way about Jill,” Carlos added, his shoulder bumping Leon’s in a way that was unmistakable: I’ve got your back if this goes south . “I was gonna ask her to marry me after she came back from the mission where she disappeared.” News to Leon, but honestly not surprising; he would’ve done the same with Chris if it had been legal in more than a handful of states at the time. Now he wished he had regardless.

Sheva’s gaze darted between the two of them, but at least she didn’t look disgusted. “Are you sure that those photos we saw from Delta Team are of the same people?” When they both nodded, she blew out a harsh breath and looked at the still-stormy sky for a moment, then said, “Then I’m going with you. These are my people that are dying out here… I can’t just turn my back and walk away.”

“Okay… in that case, there are no more orders from here on in.” That was just fine with Leon, but he wanted to make sure she knew. “It’s just the three of us now.”

She offered him a small smile, not wholly confident but sincere. “We’re partners, remember? To the end.” She led the way toward some nearby docks, where a fan boat sat waiting for them. “Let’s get moving.”

~***~

By the time they made it out into the area of the marshlands indicated on Irving’s map, the sun was rising and the clouds were blowing out to sea.

Carlos was up top in the driver’s seat, so Sheva turned to look at Leon next to her first, then back at him when she asked, “So… tell me what happened to your partners?”

Hearing her refer to Chris as Leon’s partner warmed something long-dormant inside him. “It’s a little more complicated than whatever internal memo the BSAA sent out,” he began, pulling at a strap on his vest that had gotten too tight. This was why he hated body armor. “They were hunting Albert Wesker, who was a top official with Umbrella as well as the leader of the STARS unit back in Raccoon City. He and Chris have a… complicated history.” As much as he liked Sheva, he wasn’t about to reveal that Chris was a G-Virus carrier. That was a secret trusted to a select few, and for good reason.

“Chris and Jill thought Wesker died shortly before the Raccoon City incident, but it turned out he escaped the Spencer Mansion,” Carlos continued, and Leon made a mental note to ask him where the hell he learned to drive a fan boat later. “They fought him again while they were trying to rescue Chris’s sister, Claire, and Chris and Leon encountered him in Spain, but then he vanished… until a few years ago, when the BSAA received some intel about the location of Umbrella’s founder, Ozwell Spencer.”
“They figured wherever Spencer was, Wesker wouldn’t be far behind.” Leon remembered the conversation he and Chris had had in his kitchen all too well. “They were right–Wesker killed Spencer shortly before they arrived, and during the fight that ensued, the three of them went tumbling out a window into some water. Their bodies were never recovered, but after a while they were presumed dead.” He stared out at the passing thatch huts and muddy islands. “I have to know if Chris is still alive.”

Sheva hummed an acknowledgement. “And Krauser? What’s the story there?”

Leon let out a maudlin chuckle. “He and I were together when Chris thought I was dead–long story. The short version is, he and I ran across Jack again in Valdelobos, and he was infected. He managed to break himself out of it long enough to help us fight Wesker, but he sacrificed himself in the process. We assumed Wesker killed him… but maybe he kept him alive so he could experiment on him? I don’t know.” He pushed his hair out of his face when the wind blew it into his eyes. “What about you? Why’d you join the BSAA?”

Sheva’s smile was more of a grimace. “My parents were involved in an accident caused by a pharmaceutical company when I was young.”

“Umbrella?” Carlos guessed.

“Yes–I only found out later that the accident was to cover up the manufacturing of biological weapons for terrorists.” The disgust in her voice was palpable. “They were using Africa as a testing ground for their experiments, and bioweapons were responsible for the deaths of my parents. Someone has to pay for that.”

“So you joined the BSAA,” Leon surmised.

“There’s only so much that one person can do,” Sheva said, shooting him a wry look. “Even a superhero like you, Agent Kennedy.”

Leon huffed out a caustic laugh. “Trust me, I’m no superhero.” He paused, spotting something flickering and orange in the distance–a torch. “Hey, is that a dock?”

~***~

Almost as soon as they disembarked, Carlos all but tripped over a slate etched with the growling face of a two-headed beast. They quickly figured out that it was part of a key that would unlock a sealed door, thanks in part to an unsent sitrep from a dead BSAA agent. That was when their exploration kicked off, going from island to island in the fan boat in a way that reminded Leon of his and Chris’s adventure on the lake in Valdelobos.

They were able to retrieve the warrior slate with little trouble, although they were introduced to a new type of enemy: infected marsh dwellers, who carried spears and shields and were possibly more ruthless than the residents of Kijuju had been. They tried to stop them from getting the raptor slate too, but this was far from Leon’s first rodeo, and with the help of Sheva and Carlos they were quickly dispatched. Then they boosted Sheva into a tall tower on the final island, where she gathered up the shaman slate–and they were promptly attacked again.

Once the latest round of enemies was dispatched, they returned to the island with the sealed door and reassembled the slate. From there they waded through waist-high brackish water until they reached another settlement. This one was much larger and more elaborate than the others, and also suspiciously quiet.

“There’s a body over there,” Carlos murmured, nodding toward what was quite possibly the most obvious trap Leon had ever seen. But a weapon gleamed near the dead man’s legs… “Is that a magnum?”

“Looks like it,” Sheva replied, taking a deep breath. “I’ll go get it–you two watch my back?”

“Sure thing.” Leon racked his shotgun, a bitter smile appearing on his bloodstained face. “What else are partners for?”

Chapter Text

Carlos lost track of how many infected he and Leon felled while Sheva was trapped with the dead body and the magnum, but metric fuckton seemed like a good measurement. There were a couple of close calls–partiuclarly when the chieftain-looking guys that were the size of small cars attacked–but all in all, it went better than expected. And once things were quiet and they freed Sheva, they were able to scavenge some supplies before moving on to the next area.

“Jesus Christ,” Leon muttered as he flipped through what appeared to be a battered journal of some kind. “A kid wrote this.” While Carlos didn’t know much about his friend’s upbringing, the hints he’d gotten suggested it was about as pleasant as his own–fighting for every scrap of food and clothing in the slums of São Paolo, and ultimately joining up with UBCS to provide for his mother and siblings. That left them both pretty sympathetic toward children. “Sounds like a month or so ago, some guy who said he was the foreman of the oil field fearmongered the villagers into getting ‘vaccinated’ against a disease, and instead they all went apeshit.”

“Do you think it was Irving?” Sheva asked as they moved on, hopping into a gondola that was taking them… somewhere unpleasant, judging from the look of it over the marsh grass. There was definitely one of those overgrown gators swimming in those waters, along with more infected. “Although he doesn’t look like the foreman type, does he? I doubt he would’ve been very convincing.”

“Not sure.” Leon tucked the journal away inside his vest, adjusting his grip on the Silver Ghost. “But at least it seems like we’re heading in the right direction.”

Another mercifully brief fight brought them across the water (dodging the overgrown gators along the way) and into a narrow tunnel; Carlos could tell that unlike the mines, which had been fairly wide even if they were underground, this space triggered Leon’s claustrophobia. He hid it well, but the way his breathing hitched and his hands tightened on his shotgun gave him away. Lucky for him it was only a couple dozen steps before they emerged into open air again… but Carlos couldn’t believe what he saw.

A neat row of canvas tents, branded with the navy, green, and periwinkle logo of Tricell. “What the hell?” he wondered aloud, looking from the tents to Sheva and Leon with wide eyes. “Tricell helps fund the BSAA–the fuck are they doing here?”

“Nothing good,” Leon said with a grimace, brushing aside some tall grass and ducking into the first tent. He picked up a clipboard someone had left lying around and swore colorfully. “Well, I can tell you they’re the ones who’ve been fucking around with the plagas, trying to ‘improve’ it.” He stuffed the papers from the clipboard inside his vest with the village youth’s journal–more evidence–and met Carlos’s gaze. “You know how bad this is, right? Tricell basically owns the GPC, and you told me the GPC provides most of the funding for the BSAA. That means–”

A raspy voice interrupted him as a tall, broad figure emerged from a nearby shack, most of their body shrouded by a cloak: “You’ve been working for the devil this whole damn time and didn’t know it.”

They all whipped around with their weapons raised, and Sheva barked, “Take down that hood, now !”, no doubt thinking the newcomer was one of their masked attackers from earlier.

Except Leon dropped his gun as quickly as he’d raised it, the butt hitting the dirt with an audible thud. “ Jack ?” he whispered, and the look on his face when Carlos glanced over–it was disbelief and wonder and heartache all rolled into one. “Is that… are you…?”

Krauser reached up with a large, deformed hand to push back the hood on his cloak. He was a striking-looking guy, Carlos had to admit–a chiseled, scarred face paired with icy-blue eyes and a shock of white-blond hair worn swept back from his face. “I’m me, rookie,” he replied, and while he was clearly a stoic person, he sounded like he was barely holding it together at the sight of Leon. “And you’ve got a real shitshow on your hands.”

~***~

Leon’s feet moved without conscious thought, and the next thing he knew he was hugging Jack as tightly as he could.

“Leon…” Krauser murmured his name, that disfigured hand coming to rest lightly between his shoulder blades. When it became clear that Leon wasn’t going to shy away–if anything, he only clung tighter–Jack let out a quiet sigh and brought his other arm around him too. This one had previously been mutated into the shape of a shield, but was now more like a club, with just a stump at the end and no fingers to speak of. “Kid… you look fucking terrible.”

“People who have lost everything usually do,” Leon mumbled, sniffling hard and doing his best to blink back the tears burning his eyes. He failed, one of them slipping down his cheek. He wasn’t in love with Jack anymore, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care deeply for him; finding him again in Spain only to lose him once more would’ve broken him if Chris hadn’t been there to keep him together. He pulled back enough to look Krauser in the eye and asked, “How the hell did you manage to survive? The last time I saw you…”

“The fight with Wesker.” Jack’s scarred mouth flattened into a thin line, and his grip on Leon tightened fractionally. Much like being held by Chris (oh how he ached to be held by Chris), there was preternatural strength lurking under the surface, but Leon didn’t feel threatened at all. “I remember, but after that, things get… spotty.” He took a steadying breath and squeezed Leon’s good shoulder before he released him, though he didn’t go far. Under the cloak, Leon noted, he wore a basic t-shirt and khakis; he decided not to bring up the fact that it looked like something was moving on his chest beneath the fabric. “Short version is, Wesker didn’t kill me. Instead, he managed to stun me long enough to drug me with somethin’, and when I woke up, he’d cracked my chest and taken out the plagas.”

“But you had already mutated at that point, so you retained your abilities?” Sheva ventured. She looked slightly dubious, but she’d lowered her gun as Carlos had, deferring to Leon’s judgment. “Interesting… but not good news for you, I’m guessing.”

“Perceptive, Alomar.” Jack chuckled when she looked surprised that he knew who she was. “Been roaming around here for a while, keeping tabs. For whatever it’s worth, it seems to me you surpassed Captain Stone’s abilities a long time ago.” His gaze moved to Carlos. “Oliveira, right? Valentine’s boy toy?” Before Carlos could protest the moniker, Krauser tacked on, “She still mumbles your name in her sleep.”

“She’s alive?” Carlos’s voice cracked, eyes huge with the same fragile hope that Leon barely dared to feel. “Where is she?”

“With Wesker.” Jack looked at Leon again, hard countenance softening as it always did for him. “So’s Redfield. They’re both alive… but they ain’t well.” He cocked his head, no doubt able to hear a multitude of things that they couldn’t thanks to his enhanced senses, and cursed under his breath. “More of those bastards coming this way. Let’s head toward the oil field–I’ll tell you what I know.”

~***~

Krauser’s story went a little something like this:

Shortly after waking up on Wesker’s ship (of course the fucker had a ship, Leon thought), the experiments had begun. Jack didn’t go into graphic detail, but knowing precisely how cruel Wesker could be meant a shudder crawled up Leon’s back at the thought of Krauser being at his mercy; what made it worse was that Jack had endured a couple years or so of being Wesker’s sole focus, before Chris and Jill came into the picture.

“This is the part where it gets strange,” he continued as the four of them came into sight of the oil field, its storage tanks and fiery smokestacks looming over a concrete wall inset with some double doors. He deliberately slowed his long strides, intent on getting through the rest of his tale before they went inside. “Wesker held us in the brig of the ship when we weren’t in his lab, and the three of us tried to come up with a way to escape. But the brig was outfitted to contain BOWs, and me and Redfield were no exception–everything was reinforced and electrified, and there was no goddamn way out. One day when we were on our way here, Wesker’s goon squad took Valentine away… Redfield about lost his mind, and I… I lost some time. Something weird happened to my mind–almost like when Saddler was controlling me with the plagas, but not totally the same. When I came around again, Redfield was gone too. We made landfall in Kijuju, and they just… left me on the boat. Like a bad head of cattle.”

“Once Wesker got his hands on Chris and Jill, he decided he didn’t need you anymore,” Carlos surmised, the anger and disgust he felt clear on his face.

Leon frowned, the dots not fully connecting. “But why not kill you? Wesker’s not the type of guy to deliberately leave a loose end kicking around.”

“Exactly what I thought, and it drove me nuts for a while. The boat was abandoned, totally cleared out, so I spent months tracking the fucker’s new base of operations down.” Krauser leaned his back up against the wall, folding his badly deformed arm over his chest along with the more normal-looking one. “Once I found him, I figured out the rest. Apparently, the plagas he cut out of me… he repurposed it. Changed it somehow, but I’ve still got a connection to it.” He tapped his temple. “Faint, but here. It got split in half, and it’s being used to control Redfield and Valentine. They’re Wesker’s puppets.”

Chapter Text

They’re Wesker’s puppets.

Wesker’s puppets.

Wesker.

Those words echoed through Leon’s mind, bouncing around like a ping-pong ball made of lead as he mowed through a horde of infected that ambushed them as soon as he, Carlos, Sheva, and Krauser stepped foot in the refinery. They’d caught a glimpse of Irving—without his masked companions–exiting the area via a door on the other side of the facility, but in order to get to him, it looked like they needed to turn off some flare stacks.

“Take the one on the right!” Leon barked at Carlos and Sheva, nailing a charging infected with a roundhouse. “Jack and I will get the middle!”

 That part went rather smoothly, all things considered: Leon watched Krauser’s back while he turned his valve, and across the way Sheva did the same for Carlos. The problem came in the form of the incessant buzz of a chainsaw, followed by yet another bandage-faced freak dropping down to attack. Before Leon could raise his sniper rifle, the chainsaw had glanced off Carlos’s shoulder, blood spraying everywhere as he let out a cry of pain.

Jack grabbed Leon by the back of his vest when he made to vault the railing, propelling him the other way. “No–go get the last valve! I’ll handle this prick!”

Stomach rolling, Leon nodded tightly and all but threw himself down the ladder, hearing the moment when Krauser made an inhuman leap to the other platform and started fighting their new attacker. He scurried over to the last valve’s platform and threw his weight into turning it–only to hear a second chainsaw start up almost as soon as the first one was silenced. He threw himself down and rolled away a nanosecond before his head could be sliced off, popping back up with his knife in hand.

“I am so sick of you guys!” Leon exclaimed as he plunged the blade into the base of the chainsaw wielder’s brain and twisted hard, riding the momentum of the body to the grating below. Then he was up and moving again, meeting up with the others as Jack half-dragged Carlos up the stairs, Sheva busy wrapping his wounded shoulder in a pressure bandage. “Come on, I see a door.” He nudged Krauser away and took Carlos’s weight, nodding toward the ladder that would take them to it. “You go first–that way you can catch him.”

“I’m not a–ah fuck that hurts, Sheva, Jesus–a fucking invalid,” Carlos gritted out, but he didn’t fight them either–that would’ve betrayed how badly he was hurt if his words hadn’t. He allowed them to lower him onto the edge of the platform, and then dropped down to Jack, who caught him with ease. “We can’t stop–not when we’re so close to catching Irving.” Taking a deep breath, Carlos nodded his thanks to Krauser but stood on his own, holding his pistol one-handed. “This’ll hold me for now. Let’s keep going.”

~***~

Beyond the door was an open-air elevator shaft encased in metal grating, and the concrete room around it was eerily quiet.

As they were sweeping it, the hair on the back of Leon’s neck stood up, and he whipped around to aim the Silver Ghost at– “Captain Stone?”

Josh lowered his weapon after a moment’s hesitation, looking at them all in astonishment. “Leon? Sheva?” His eyes widened as he took in Carlos’s injury. “You’re hurt!” Then beyond him to Jack. “And you found your friend, I see.”

“Josh–you’re alive!” The relief in Sheva’s voice was palpable, and not for the first time Leon wondered if she viewed Josh as more than just a mentor… sort of like how he’d been with Krauser, once upon a time. “Are you hurt? How did you get here?”

“We were at the port when we were attacked,” Josh explained, which tracked with what they already knew. “And then, well–I ended up here.” He looked between them all. “Where’s the rest of the team?” When no one responded, he hung his head. “ Shit .”

The well-honed intuition Leon had developed after enduring a lifetime of abuse from both his father and his ex-boyfriend buzzed somewhere deep within his brain… but he pushed it aside for now, intent on catching Irving and getting Carlos somewhere relatively safe to treat his injury. “It’s just the five of us now.”

“Why did you not retreat?” Josh asked, perhaps a touch too forcefully; not of any of the men, but of Sheva, and Leon didn’t think it was for a sexist reason. At this point he was convinced that the not-so-professional feelings went both ways, but neither party had acted on them. “I mean, we’re no match for them!”

“Leon and I have unfinished business,” Carlos explained, voice tight with pain. “The hard drive you gave us, with the BOW experimentation data on it? There were pictures of friends of ours inside.”

Josh repeated, slightly incredulously, “ Friends ?”

“We’re not leaving until we catch Irving and find out what the hell is going on here,” Leon started, but the back of his neck prickled and he spun around in time to see an infected burst through a nearby window. A swarm of them followed from all directions, and he plugged the closest one with a couple quick shots. “Let’s save the chit-chat for later!”

~***~

After watching Josh’s six while he hacked through security on not one but two computers–one tied to the elevator controls and the next the locking mechanism on a blast-proof door–they finally had a moment to collectively catch their breath. 

Leon grabbed Carlos before he could fall, carefully lowering him down to sit on the floor with his back against a wall. “Easy, tiger. Deep breaths.” A peek at the pressure bandage told him Carlos hadn’t bled through it, which meant it was doing its job, but it wasn’t a long-term solution. “Anybody got an herb?”

“Yeah, hang on.” Sheva crouched down next to them and produced a vial full of crushed plant matter, holding Carlos still with a hand on his chest as Leon peeled back the dressing and poured it directly into his wound. He muffled a scream behind his teeth, and she did her best to soothe him: “I’m sorry–I know it hurts, but it will help soon enough.”

“I got a look at what Irving is doing when I was in the computer system,” Josh began, not seeming to notice that Krauser had shifted to position himself between him and Leon’s vulnerable back. “He’s going to blow everything up and make his escape. If you can stop him, I can try to find us a way out of here.”

Jack inclined his head. “We’ll go after Irving.”

If Josh was perturbed by Krauser’s appearance or general demeanor, he did a decent job of masking it. “Good! There’s a dock up ahead.” He gestured down a nearby staircase. “That is probably where he’s going to make his break.”

“Copy that,” Sheva said, replacing the bandage over Carlos’s shoulder while Leon cleaned his hands, looking up at her old mentor imploringly. “And Josh? Be careful.”

He nodded, ducking through another nearby door and locking it behind himself.

“So,” Jack drawled once Josh was gone, turning and wordlessly helping Carlos back to his feet, “nobody trusts that guy, right?”

Leon winced at the blunt delivery–but to his surprise, Sheva shook her head. “It breaks my heart,” she said earnestly, blowing out a slow breath, “but we can’t. The Josh I know would have been stricken by the idea of even one of his men dying, let alone his entire unit… and instead, he barely reacted. Something else is going on.”

“Almost like he knew they were gonna die ahead of time,” Carlos mused, shooting a dark look toward the door Josh had exited through before he straightened up and started toward the stairs. “Either way, we still need to catch Irving. Come on.”

Chapter Text

The docks brought gray skies and the stench of saltwater and rot, neither of which were nothing new at this point.

They ran down the length of the main dock toward Irving’s ship, in time to see the man in question waltz out onto the foredeck. At the same moment, his two masked bodyguards hopped over the railing into a nearby speedboat, taking off in the opposite direction before any of them could get off a shot. Not that Leon was sure he could’ve pulled the trigger anyway, because was that…?

“Youse all are just in time for the fireworks show!” Irving exclaimed when he saw them, looking gleeful as only the truly deranged could be. “Boom!” He tossed them a jaunty salute, his ship moving out as a cadre of infected came storming toward where they were trapped with nothing but ocean at their backs.

“I hate that guy,” Jack muttered, right as their comms crackled; Sheva had had an extra she’d been able to give him. “That you, Josh?”

“Do you read me?” Looking toward a dock a few lanes down, Leon spotted Josh working on starting the engine of another boat. “I’ve secured a boat–get here on the double!”

How the hell did he manage to get here after us when he left first? Leon thought, exchanging a look with Carlos that told him the other man was wondering the same thing. Now wasn’t the time to discuss it, though.

“So there are definitely bombs around here, right?” Sheva raised her voice to be heard over the din of gunfire and their screaming assailants. “I doubt Irving said that just for show!”

“He did not!” Josh again, a twinge of alarm in his voice before the boat’s motor finally caught, right as their group came barreling toward him. “I saw the explosives on my way here, they’re about to–”

He wasn’t able to say blow before the refinery began to do exactly that, and they abandoned polite conversation for a moment while they piled into the boat and sped off. Unfortunately and unsurprisingly, their pursuers didn’t give up–instead, they started firing flaming arrows and slinging grenades from their own boats. Things only got more chaotic as they neared a series of locks, where they were quickly stymied by a closed gate.

This fight came with more giant bugs and a lot of explosions, but it was over relatively quickly and they were moving again. By now they were in the outer reaches of the refinery and had to duck under a succession of pipes, which was quickly followed up by another gate that was shut. The second was a bit more convoluted than the first, but nothing a little teamwork and some club-hand punching from Krauser couldn’t solve.

After that they found themselves cruising at a low speed through more marshland, blackened clouds rolling in as thunder rumbled, sending an icy chill down Leon’s back as it always had since Raccoon City. Nothing good ever came from that sound, and this moment was no exception: Irving’s ship cut out in front of them so suddenly it had Josh swearing and jerking their boat’s wheel. He managed to turn her so the side of their smaller vessel struck the bigger one–but as soon as they bounced off, the turrets on Irving’s ship opened fire on them.

“Shit!” Leon dragged Carlos down to the deck with him, Jack doing the same with Sheva. “They’re going to sink us!”

“We’ve got to board them!” Sheva yelled back as Josh got them moving again through the hail of bullets, quickly picking up speed. “Josh, can you–?”

“Get ready!” was Josh’s response, opening up the throttle even more as they gained on the bigger vessel. “You’ll have one shot!”

~***~

Earlier…

“What are you going to do about them?”

Irving never would’ve admitted it, but the baritone voice of the bigger of his masked keepers made his bowels feel watery. Still, he tried to project confidence as he was shoved roughly against the wall: “You’re just one of Excella’s playthings! It was your master who was–”

“One more time!” That was the girl, her small hand preternaturally strong when it closed around his throat and dragged him up the damp concrete. Two pairs of glowing red lenses watched him as she ground out, “What are you going to do about them?”

From the corner of his rapidly darkening vision, Irving could just make out the shine of gold bars on the ground. He clawed at her wrist but it didn’t matter if he drew blood, because the shallow cuts healed as quickly as they appeared. “Alright, alright–I’ll handle it!” He let out a pained grunt as he was dropped, grabbing for his abused throat.

“Use it.” The guy, shoving something under Irving’s nose; it took him a second to recognize it as an injector. It wasn’t a request, but an order… and Irving was in no position to refuse.

~***~

The rain continued to pelt down as Leon crawled up onto the expansive deck of Irving’s ship, flanked by Carlos, Krauser, and Sheva.

The man in question looked more disheveled than before, if that were possible, a manic glint to his gaze that spoke of terrible things to come. “Won’t youse all just die already?!” He strolled toward them, speaking almost conversationally save for the odd tilt of his head. “You’re making me look bad. Who do you think got this entire operation off the ground?” He spread his hands. “Research like this doesn’t fund itself, you know… yet everyone looks down on me.” Something slipped out of his sleeve into his hand–an injector, filled with blood-red liquid. “But not anymore.”

They all raised their guns, and Carlos yelled, “Don’t do it!”

Heedless of the warning, Irving jammed the injector into the side of his own neck, and Leon and Jack flinched simultaneously as all-too familiar black veins spiderwebbed over his skin. A second later his back bubbled and ripped apart, thick, undulating tentacles quickly multiplying and propelling his broken body into the air. “I am far beyond anything you could ever hope to become!”

He swiped at them with a few tentacles and Leon jerked to the side to avoid getting slapped, firing off a few rounds as Irving launched himself into the water speeding by below them. For a brief moment, everything was almost eerily calm–and then the whole ship shook violently, almost knocking the group off their feet. Whipping around, Leon backflipped away from the much larger tentacle that came slamming down into the deck, and a sea monster the size of a building came roaring out of the depths.

“Shit,” Krauser said emphatically, echoing precisely what they were all thinking. “Here we go!”

Chapter Text

Taking down Irving consisted of deafening turret gunfire, a touch of seasickness, and a whole plethora of new bruises from being smacked down to the ship’s deck. But, while he was horrifying to look at and disgusting with all the briney water and questionable ooze, he also wasn’t all that tough when the four of them were able to divide and conquer. He reminded Leon a bit too much of Ramón Salazar as his shriveled tongue-like body was ultimately severed from his gigantic mutated form, crashing to the deck in a puddle of blood.

“Tell me what you’re planning to do!” Carlos shouted over the roar of the wind and Irving’s pained grunts, aiming his handgun at his skull. He was bleeding a bit through his bandages again, Leon noted, but that wasn’t surprising; they were all going to need an herb after this.

“Damn Excella,” Irving panted, seemingly to himself. Glancing down at what was left of him, he tacked on, “Guess I wasn’t worth the good stuff…”

“Excella?” Sheva repeated, glancing at Krauser questioningly.

“Not sure.” Jack walked closer and planted a boot on the approximate area of Irving’s chest, pressing down until the already-dying BOW wheezed even more. “Tell us what the fuck’s going on with Uroboros. Now.”

Irving clenched his teeth, looking up at them with crimson eyes filled with disdain. “The balance of the world is changing and you’re completely oblivious to it… it’s too late now.” Another wheeze. “Uroboros… is about to change everything–”

He cut off, sputtering and spasming, and Leon grabbed Carlos to pull him back in case he blew. “Carlos!”

“Carlos? So you’re Carlos?” A hysterical little laugh bubbled from what was left of Irving’s face.

“What’s so funny?” Carlos stiffened at the recognition, knowing as well as Leon did that it could’ve only come from one place even as he demanded, “How do you know about me?”

“All your answers wait ahead of you in that cave,” Irving intoned, the life bleeding from his features as he began to melt into the deck of the ship. “If you can survive long enough to get them–but it won’t change how fucked you are.”

“What a prick,” Krauser said once it was clear Irving was gone, shaking his head a little. Glancing at Leon, he asked, “Now what?”

The rain was finally letting up, and Leon spotted Josh’s boat circling their slowing ship. Up ahead in the water, just as Irving told them, was the mouth of a large cave. “We keep going.”

~***~

“So this is the place he was talking about,” Carlos said a few minutes later, once they’d reboarded Josh’s boat and were cruising at a low speed through the cave’s calm waters.

It was an unremarkable area save for a dock at the end, and Sheva was quick to point at it: “That’s the boat those masked people used to get away.”

Josh pulled their boat up alongside the dock behind the other vessel, and he waited until the four of them had disembarked before he asked, “So, you’re really going to go through with this?”

“This ain’t just about Valentine and Redfield,” Krauser said gruffly, not even looking at Josh as he spoke; his gaze was fixed on the path ahead of them instead. “We’ve gotta stop Uroboros, too. From what I’ve heard, it makes Los Illuminados look like a bunch of preschoolers.”

“I guess there’s nothing I can do to stop you.” Letting out a sigh, Josh shifted the boat’s motor back into gear. “I will call HQ and try to get the withdrawal order rescinded–I will also try to get you backup.” He swung the boat around in a U-turn, heading back toward the cave’s entrance. “Try not to get yourselves killed!”

“Think he’ll actually call in?” Carlos wondered as they headed up the dock and through a ramshackle building. “Also, that name Irving said… Excella. It sounds familiar.”

Leon answered the first question: “Even if he’s got an ulterior motive, at this point we’ve all been out of contact too long–he sort of has to call in. Backup… might be another story.”

“Excella…” Sheva murmured, realization dawning. “That’s the name of the director of Tricell’s African division.”

Jack grunted. “Think she could be connected to Irving?”

“It’s possible,” Sheva admitted. “But I don’t have any proof.”

“Tricell…” Carlos said the name with distaste, knowing what they did now. “If there is a connection, what does that mean for Africa?”

“Not sure.” Some vague possibilities came to Leon’s mind, and none of them were pleasant. “But there’s only one way to find out.” They traveled down the cave’s winding path for a minute, eventually emerging into a larger space lit by far-away cracks spilling sunlight. Even with his claustrophobia it was almost peaceful… until the giant spiders started crawling up out of the dirt. “Oh fuck me.”

~***~

It took a bit more exploring and a lot of DIY pest control for them to realize they weren’t just wandering through a cave system–they’d stumbled into the ruins of an ancient city. Like something straight out of Indiana Jones, a cloud of bats filled the cavern above the broken-down stone buildings, burning braziers suggesting that they weren’t the only occupants. The sheer amount of dust had Leon’s nose twitching with the urge to sneeze, but he held it back.

“I never knew such a place existed here,” Sheva said as they jumped down to what would’ve been street level, peering around curiously. “It looks like there’s been some recent activity.”

“That asshole better have been telling the truth about us finding answers here,” Krauser grumbled. He bumped into a strung-up corpse covered in burlap, fresh enough to still be bleeding on the floor. “Charming.” They started to cross a bridge, with Leon and Sheva on point and Carlos and Jack bringing up the rear, but nearly got squashed when some infected decided to push a column down, snapping the bridge in half and splitting them up. “Shit! You okay?”

“We’re fine!” Leon said with a cough, drawing his rifle when he saw that the ruin dwellers were ganging up en masse on the two men. “I’ll cover you–just get over here!”

“I’ve got your back,” Sheva assured him, and while she was no Chris… Leon believed her.