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It felt like ages before the grating buzzer of the elevator rang throughout the tunnel, but in truth it was only a few minutes. Leon slammed his fist into the panel to spray liquid nitrogen, leaping back at the last moment to bait the Verdugo into the mist.
“How’s that? Hits different, huh?” Leon called back over his shoulder as he sprinted for the conveniently open door. It must have worked like a copying machine, hitting the button over and over only for it to finally work after he fixed the power.
Leon smacked the button inside the elevator, sighing when the doors slid shut just as the monster shattered the ice coating its body. An angry shriek from below was the last he heard from the Verdugo before the stone walls of the elevator shaft blocked any more sound.
He pulled the slide back on his Blacktail, the action of making sure he had a bullet in the chamber being almost compulsory at this point in his mission. Too many sudden encounters with cultists and camouflaged Novistadors had put the fear of God – or rather, an empty magazine – into him.
The agent was about to lean against the wall for a well-earned breather when his arm began to throb. Looking down, Leon only had a moment to see the black veins pulsing under his too-pale skin before his ears began ringing. The pain made his vision swim, but what sent him crashing to his knees was the plaga in his chest suddenly lurching around, reacting to a whisper from far away.
“Pitiful little lamb…” the same echoing voice from the boat and the church came from within Leon’s mind again. “Your suffering can end, just as it has for our newest daughter… who has joined us in communion!”
The man in his head sounded like he was gloating, and Leon could practically see him spreading his arms in triumph. Leon shook his head. No, Ashley was still fighting, she had to be!
“Now she is of our flesh… of our blood… My faithful disciple will show her the path.”
Disciple? Did the man mean Ramon? The old man had been the only other person in this place who didn’t seem to be a mere puppet for a parasite…
The next words made Leon jump, and he was sure he wasn’t meant to hear them. The voice seemed to be commanding someone else now, the tone being sharp rather than patronizing. “Go now! Deliver to these vagrant children their salvation.”
A new voice chimed in, fainter than the first man; “As you wish.”
Just before everything snapped back into focus, Leon could have sworn he saw a familiar pair of blue eyes, light reflecting off of a familiar blade…
The elevator jolted to a stop. With a soft groan, Leon pushed himself to his feet while the doors slid open.
In the cave beyond, a walkway was held up by thick iron scaffolding, and against it leaned a definitely familiar, albeit dubiously welcome, face. Luis winked and rattled the box he held. “I’ll make it cheap for you.”
Leon didn’t know if he wanted to strangle Luis for ditching him and Ashley twice, or kiss him for finally showing up with the suppressant he had promised back at the castle gate. Both would have to be put on the back burner though, because Leon barely made it a step before he was pitching forward, missing the doorway when he tried to grab on.
“¡Oye! Be careful Yanqui!” Luis managed to catch him before he hit the floor, but the angle made him carefully lower Leon into the dirt anyway.
Exertion seemed to make the plaga symptoms act up more, such as after the Del Lago fight and the two Gigantes he had encountered so far. After having to dodge and run and try to fight the Verdugo, followed immediately by the plaga inside of him deciding to use his heart and lungs for a bouncy castle for a few minutes because Daddy decided to pop in, Leon had both hands pressed over his mouth in a vain attempt to stop the blood from dripping onto his knees and the ground below him.
Luis winced while rubbing a hand over Leon’s back soothingly, though he doubted the man could feel it through the kevlar vest he wore. The rubbing became thumping when Leon’s coughing briefly turned into choking as he inhaled his own blood. Unfortunately, the pain Leon was in was about to get worse before it got better.
“Come on, let’s get you up,” Luis helped Leon stand and half-carried him over to a row of long-forgotten crates of mining equipment. He settled him down atop one of the crates before straightening back up. Without even thinking about it Leon shot a hand out to grab Luis’ sleeve, but his fingers were gently pried off. “I’ll be right back Cariño; I’m grabbing the medicine for you.”
The tin with the suppressant shots had been dropped when Luis had jumped forward, but now the Spaniard stepped away from Leon just long enough to grab it back up and pull the tape off the lid. Holding one of the pens, Luis waited for Leon’s breathing to settle a bit before gently pushing his shoulder for his attention. “Are you ready?”
When Leon nodded, Luis pressed the tip of the suppressant to the crook of his elbow. “Deep breath; this is going to be uncomfortable for a moment.”
There’s always a pinching feeling when getting a shot, and for a moment Leon thought that that would be it, but life seemed to like making him think things were done with before shoving the proverbial dildo back up his ass. If he thought the plaga wriggling inside of him was painful before, it was nothing compared to this new hell. Leon managed to keep the scream behind his teeth, unlike the thin stream of fresh blood dripping down his chin. One of his hands landed on Luis’ thigh and squeezed while the plaga thrashed around, seemingly trying to burst from his chest as it fought the suppressant.
It took entirely too long for the plaga to finally go still, and by the time it had Leon’s hand was stiff from clenching so hard for so long. Luis, for his part, didn’t complain about the fantastic bruising he most certainly now had, but he did back away as soon as he was released. It was entirely to give Leon space to breathe, of course, and not because he feared for the structural integrity of his femur.
Luis began fiddling with his lighter while Leon stretched his fingers, clenching and unclenching his fist to get bloodflow back into them. His other hand absently reached up and rubbed at his chin, smearing the blood there more than removing it. It took him no time at all to replace his mask of stoicism, pretending as if the last few minutes hadn’t just happened.
With another flip of his lighter, Luis indulged him by lightly asking, “Feeling better?”
Leon’s clipped reply was all Luis needed to know that the man was well and truly back in his shell, probably worse now than before over what he must consider a mortifying show of weakness. “Yeah. Seems like it worked.”
“Bad news?” Luis said, “All we’ve done is buy you some time. The suppressants effects will wear off all too soon.”
Leon pulled the second dose out of the tin, flipping it over in his hand to see which end was which before slipping it into one of his pouches for Ashley.
“You ready to go?”
“Don’t worry about me,” Leon shook his head. “Ashley is the priority.”
Luis wanted to grab this American by the shoulders and shake him while lecturing him about self care. He wanted to tell Leon to rest for a few minutes, drink some water, let Luis help him wipe his own blood off of his hands and chin, but instead he loudly snapped the lighter shut against his palm. “In that case, we know what we have to do.” He looked down at the pile of tools in a crate next to him and grabbed a pipe that was sticking out of it. “Then come Sancho Panza!” he cried, marching forward into the mines. “Let us rescue the Princess Dulcinea!”
Leon walked up beside him, easily overtaking him and effortlessly taking the pipe. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.” He dropped the pipe on the ground off to the side.
Over the pipe’s rattle Luis complained, “Hey! That was my lance.” Leon turned to shoot him a look over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised, and Luis smirked. “Ok, we hurry, I get it!”
They had settled back into their previous dynamic, but Luis knew he was going to have to catch Leon in a good moment to have a proper talk with him. The way he shoved his own feelings aside and acted like his mission was more important than his own life was certainly noble on paper, but life wasn’t a fairy tale. If the plaga didn’t kill Leon, then his own martyr complex would get the job done.
For now, Luis settled for following Leon up the ladder.