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"I'll make it cheap for you."
Leon was in bad shape. Luis could smell battle off of him, gunsmoke and iron, as soon as he stumbled out the doors of that elevator. His gait was disordered, shuffling sideways on his left foot and falling on his toes, not his heels. Leon gave him a disoriented glance, eyes falling on the case Luis clung to like gold. And then, he collapsed.
Luis attempted to swoop in and catch Leon before he sustained a concussion as well. He was partially successful; Leon fell limblessly to the ground, and Luis succeeded in breaking his fall. Luis's head hit the ground, knicking a sharp rock against his skull, sending a sudden ice-pick headache through his cranium.
"Dios mio, you're heavy." Luis gasped, trying to refill the air knocked out of his lungs. Leon's head rested on his chest, and he grunted wordlessly in response to Luis's words. Luis took a deep breath, using all his upper body strength to push Leon's dense body off his own. Leon rolled onto the ground next to Luis, eyes flickering in and out of consciousness. "Christ, what happened to you, pretty boy?"
"Big guy…" He looked like shit. Luis tried to diagnose him, flicking his eyes from the black eye to the bloody nose, the dark circles, the- oh, shit. There was blood soaking through his shirt. "Asshole was fast."
"You got messed up good, huh?" Luis felt a twinge of panic bite him in the stomach. He was a doctor only in title; he knew life as it existed on a microcellular level, not the intricacies of physical trauma care. He hoped his first aid knowledge was enough to repair the damage.
He placed down the suppressant's case, apologizing quietly to Leon as he took his blade from its harness. Nice knife , he thought to himself. He used it to make delicate slices through the fabric glued to Leon's stomach, slowly ripping them away with a harsh crunch. Luis's nose wrinkled, and Leon hissed with disapproval.
That cut did not look good.
Luis tsked, wiping his hands on his jeans- the closest thing to washing them in this mineshaft- and touched the edge of the cut. Leon whimpered, shaking his head. "Don't-its fine. Don't touch that. "He finally managed, pushing Luis's hand away.
Luis grimaced. The wound was a laceration running from navel to left hip. It was deep. He could tell that much. He could see muscle tissue on the wound edges, oozing blood profusely after the scab it worked hard to create was ripped open. It would need stitches, but they didn't have the luxury or tools to do that so far from his lab.
He had to think quickly. Leon was looking pale, groaning in pain, only brought to life when Luis probed at the source of his agony. Stop the bleeding. That's the priority . Clean bandages would be damn near impossible to find in time. So, settling for second best, he took off his jacket. Inhaling deeply, swearing to himself he'd get something nice once he got off the island-maybe custom made. He pulled off his shirt as he swallowed his fragmented pride.
Using the bloodied knife, he cut the shirt into long strips. The cool air of the mineshaft chilled his bare skin, stinging, but Luis reminded himself that he could kiss this cold goodbye soon enough. His nightmare would be over before the sun rose if he was lucky. Not that he deserved it to any extent. He glanced at Leon, whose eyes were closed and mouth twitching in a fitful half-slumber.
Nah, Luis wasn't a hero. He had done too much wrong to ever deserve to be regarded as one. It was more like fixing a mess he caused, suturing a wound he had helped open. He definitely knew better. Before his disillusionment with Umbrella, with Saddler, he should have been smarter. He was supposed to be a fucking protege, and his life's work amounted to nothing but suffering.
He thought about his younger self, so obsessed with Don Quioxte, trampling through the quiet forests of his village. Again, he tried to follow his grandfather on a hunt, blissfully unaware of danger, fear, or morality. He had found a trail of tree ants and stopped to watch them. He had knelt down to see a stop in the trail; one of the ants had paused, holding up the line, and broke formation. Curious, he had tiptoed, watching as it climbed up an underbrush plant above the colony's labor line. Poised ever so carefully near the colony entrance. It bit the leaf and didn't move.
Luis became transfixed on the ant. He tried to watch it for a while, but his grandfather had called him away not long into observing it. He tried asking his grandpa why the ant would do that; to which he responded, no se, mijo . That answer made Luis angry at the time. He returned to the colony with a piece of paper and found the ant anchored in the same spot. Luis drew it, watched it, and waited for it to do something. He didn't know what he was waiting for; he just knew it was strange . Something made the ant leave its job, and it did something anomalous to the hive mind.
He did it for days. And, as the days rolled on, a layer of yeasty substance had begun to blossom on her corpse, reminding him of the mold he had found on a slice of stale bread a few years before. Then, her head bloomed, turning into a long stoma that reached toward the ground and threatened the ants below. He had been shell shocked, disturbed, but young Luis had been so damn curious more than anything. He showed his grandfather the drawings he did each day, rambling on about the mold-like thing that grew out of its body and showered itself down on the ants below. It was a creature that took over another creature's body, turning it subservient to its will, turning it against its biological program, and rewiring it to serve it instead.
Luis later learned he had observed the life cycle of O. unilateralis. A fungi that acted similar to a parasite. It was a fantastic coincidence; though it usually reproduced in tropic areas, a spore found itself in Luis's backyard colony. Even into his grad school years, he still found the concept fascinating. Fascinating enough to forsake his morals and abandon the knightly roleplay like he did that night, he found the ant in a death grip. Twenty years later, he was still that same little boy.
And Leon, in their sparse meetings, reminded him of everything he hated about himself.
He took the long strips, helping Leon sit up with much difficulty. "C'mon, big guy, I gotta stop that bleeding, or you'll never get to the princess," he muttered softly, knowing Leon probably wasn't listening too well. Propping him up With his knees angled behind him, he began wrapping the bandages around Leon. He had to scoot closer, chest to back, to get the strips around him successfully. He wished he had some sort of antiseptic to pour on the wound, but they would be home free at his lab. Leon just needed to hold out until then.
He would be fine, he was sure. A real Knight, someone Luis would give anything to have been instead of the sad excuse of a biologist he was. He tied the bandage tight, tugging it a few times for good measure. Leon whispered something unintelligible.
"What was that?"
"I said thank you."
Luis was taken aback, scooting away from Leon's warm body and quickly putting on his jacket. "Well, can't have you bleeding to death just yet." Luis teased. Leon swayed, trying to stay up on his own and regain his full consciousness. The man was impressive to be as beat up as he was and still able to function to any degree. "C'mon, let's get you inoculated and back on those feet."
"I owe you one," Leon chuckled weekly, face pale, but humor was a good sign. Luis grabbed the container, twisted it open with a hiss, and pulled out one vial.
"Does this make me the knight and you the damsel? How about a kiss for my valiant efforts?" Luis smirked at himself, playing off the subtle flirting with all the coyness he could.
Leon scoffed at him but hid a shy smile behind the attitude. "Tell you what. We get out of here, I'll give you more than just one kiss."
"Aye, amigo, don't be a tease." Luis gently slapped Leon's shoulder. Might as well, right? Maybe he'd hold Leon to that. He was certainly easy enough on the eyes.
First, he would help end this nightmare, though. That was the most important thing right now. Once he got out, maybe…
Well, maybe things would turn around for him. He could do something good for the world. Then, he could finally sleep at night.