#plagainfected

Something is wrong. Had he taken a bad hit without Piers noticing? But it's not just that. The flesh under the skin of his arm is moving, wriggling. Like something was inside it.

He knows Krauser is a host to Las Plagas. They were both, technically, B.O.W.s. Piers had assumed he himself was the risk here, C being as unstable and violent as it was. But maybe he shouldn't have assumed Krauser had a tight hold over the parasite just yet.

He does get away a little bit. A few safe spaces back, well out of melee range. But he doesn't leave.

Boom-boom 💥💥❗❗ Boom 💥❗

Two shots, then a third, in quick succession--downing enemy units as they sprinted for what they thought was a weakened enemy. Piers settles the gun on Krauser's back once they're down. Not as a threat, but as an offer. In case he wants to be taken down, should he turn hostile.

"Who are you..?

(Zeno)

Another relic, a ghost from the past, that does not quite fit in with the world now, as he took a slow drag from his cigarette, the ember flaring briefly in the dim light of the underground lab. Smoke curled from his lips as he exhaled, his gaze never leaving Krauser’s face. There was something almost amused in the way his fingers tapped the ash from the cigarette, casual, as if they weren’t standing in the ruins of another man’s ambition.

“Hm?”

He laughed. A low, deliberate sound that echoed against the damp concrete walls. The cigarette between his fingers trembled slightly with the motion, sending a curl of smoke spiraling upward. "Wesker is dead, for quite sometime now, seems that destroying the world, ended up destroying him, what a waste." He said, as if announcing the weather. "His plans failed. His legacy is rubble." He tilted his head, the dim light catching the edge of his shades.

"And yet, here we are. The Connections don’t stumble over corpses, Krauser. We build on them. You and Wesker have history, a good relationship, we can have that, if you want?"

“As The Family’s lap dog?” She hisses, holding the triple-barreled shotgun she usually carried out in front of her with one hand, fully intent on firing from that position if she had too.

“What’re they after? More C-virus strains? Plagas? They’ve taken enough from me, im not about to let them take a cent more.”

She’s so mad she could spit… this is the last thing she wanted to deal with today.

intentional nudes

A beep goes off on his communicator, and Piers, not really doing anything of note, doesn't see a reason not to check it.

[msg - Krauser, J] ∟attachment.jpg

"I think we're a little different."

He will say this for Krauser, the man goes hard, nonstop. Piers' style of combat doesn't often lend itself to exhaustive, extended operations, but he did pride himself on the fact that he was not one to slack off or get left behind. He supposes all of this is going to help him in the future.

His head still hurts, and while he's pretty sure he's not concussed, it isn't helping his balance. He needs to be low and still, but still awake. Sweat is running down his back and he feels the heat of battle a little too intensely right now.

(Thank you for the follow!!)

❝ Necessary... ❞ Wesker repeated the word, his head tilting to a side ever so slightly, expression blank and unreadable while he evaluated the logic behind the statement. If anything, he always did believe death to be the only currency that can satisfy the true cost of Complete Global Saturation; purging the weakness always costs blood and in his cause it was a small price to pay for the world he has envisioned for the future.

He could've dismissed the statement as a whole if he wanted to but curiosity kept him from doing such. The source of it was Krauser; a soldier and a man who parted with his humanity for the power that the Las Plagas promised him. A power that he believed could remedy him of the weakness and guilt he carried. Hence, Wesker couldn't help but feel intrigued by the statement itself. Was it just a simple agreement from a former soldier or was it from a man who acknowledges the death of morality and weakness for the birth of something greater? Nonetheless, it was a sentiment he found worthy of his time.

Luis mustered the other man quietly. Part of him still felt fear when seeing Krauser. Part of him felt disgust and anger.

The thought of Krauser having stayed around in the dark to listen to what could’ve been his last words had Luis feeling bile in the back of his throat. The scar on his back seemed to sear with memories.

This was the man that had tried to kill him – and almost succeeded. A knife to his back. Luis had never seen it coming. Wasn’t that cowardice? He had thought the ex-soldier had more in him… but maybe that was the Plaga’s doing.

Maybe a lot of it was.

And after all… Luis sought atonement for his own wrongdoings. He hardly could throw the first stone here… could he?

And at this last question… Luis’ grey eyes gentled. He knew that question. He had asked it to himself so often. And in this small moment, maybe Luis understood Krauser better than anyone else. A strange play of fate.

And Luis has an answer for him. It’s the same that Leon had given him.

“You can change.”

Slowly, he shook his head, hardly believing he would use such mercy on the man who had tried murdering him.

“It’s not too late… but you have to put in the work, hermano. You have to push further than you thought you ever could.”

However that looked for Krauser. But maybe… maybe Luis could help. Slowly, he offered a hand.