Author's note: The Darkside Chronicles is one of those games I can't play but know the story. Sorry, Capcom, motion sickness ain't for me. New Krauser and Leon fodder, is though!

Spoilers up to the point of Krauser's accident.

Kinetic

It took freaking forever to get to the top of the dam, but Krauser wasn't going to complain when all his limbs were still intact. Chased by freakazoid zombies infected with the Veronica strain virus, he knew he owed multiple thanks to Kennedy for saving his hide and not taking out an eye while trapped and firing bullets in those insanely cramped corridors.

Tracking down the sketchy Javier was no picnic. The little man slithered out of sight more than once and that ticked off Krauser more than he liked. Leon didn't care for the guy, either. Always nice to have a fellow comrade to grouse with.

Well, they could slink away, too. Now in the jungle again to rest before making their way to Javier's base. Krauser couldn't wait to nail him.

Then came the issue of the girl. She was trouble. A zombie magnet if he ever saw one. Krauser, pacing and cleaning his knife, glanced over the few feet away to Manuela who pushed aside a tall shrub in search of something. She had been doing this for a while. She hadn't explained why and Krauser took the rare down time to wonder why she did what she chose to do. Defy her father despite caring for him. Follow them and the dangers they blasted their shotguns and pistols at. Find sentient life in greenery.

Aside from whaling Javier with a satisfying right hook, Krauser also couldn't wait to get out of these blazing tropics. Mid-day approached and in this sweltering South American climate, air-conditioning was the magic word to his ears.

"You're doing it." Leon's voice came from his left side.

"Wiping blood and guts off my fine tool?" Krauser replied snarkily. He crouched.

Leon's gaze partnered with Krauser's and they studied Manuela. "You've got the eyes."

Stopping the move of rag on steel, Krauser lifted an eyebrow at him. If Leon was going to confess undying love, he was one who was trouble, not her. "What are you going on about?"

"Googly eyes. For Manuela." Leon remained straight-faced, but a joking glint sparked in his light eyes.

Krauser grunted in irritation. He was one to talk. "You are screwed up, Kennedy. I've seen the way you stare." Krauser couldn't believe he answered like that.

"You notice, do you?" Now a dumb grin formed.

"Idiot." Krauser rolled his eyes at this inane conversation. Finding out Leon worked directly for the President was annoying enough, but now this crap?

Then just as fast as the exuberance appeared, it slid off Leon's face, his lips drawing a thin line and his eyes darkening. "But really, it's nothing. She's a charge. You can't fall in love at the drop of a hat."

As if Leon were tunneling his thoughts into some cavernous and endless channel, he stared off into the distance into a memory.

Krauser didn't understand what went on in the ex-cop's mind, and he frankly didn't care to hear about the complexities to find out. "This has gotta be the strangest talk I've had during a mission."

The spoken words broke Leon out of reverie and his eyes cleared. "Yeah. Just livening up the mood. We got enough gloom already."

Grunting, Krauser waved a meaty hand. "Do 'liven up' by finding us something to eat."

"What makes you think that hasn't already been in progress?" Leon jutted his chin towards the girl who seemed happy with a tiny gourd in her arms.

"Super, the diet meal. What happened to meat, huh?" An intense hankering for a juicy steak hit Krauser then.

Heading to Manuela's direction, Leon lightly tapped his shoulder in condolence. "Make due with what we have. Or feel free to search, target, and shoot an animal yourself."

Manuela began to hum lightly. Krauser noticed her song was different than the one she always sang. Good. The other tune had begun whirling in his frontal cortex like a broken record. It was nagging at him. Not in a fly-buzzing nuisance, either, but a memorable melodic kind of way which didn't require selective recall to remember.

Two fruits were heaped in Manuela's arms and she didn't bother to put them down. Leon sidled up to her and said something, probably offering assistance. Manuela smiled slowly and told him a reply of her own. Insistence creased her brows as she spoke as she convinced Leon about some point and pushed her armload at him. Then she busied herself at another spot of fauna.

Leon looked pleased at the end of that exchange. He sauntered over to Krauser and tossed him a ripe melon. "Courtesy of Manuela."

Catching the solid fruit, Krauser frowned at the girl. "What's Manuela doing? Isn't she eating?"

Easing himself to an unsullied spot on the forest floor, Leon whipped out his knife and checked it. Krauser passed his rag and Leon nodded in thanks. "She thought to let us enjoy the fruits of her labor first. No pun intended." The goof wiped steel and upon finishing, returned the cloth. He scored his melon, trying not to chortle outright.

Krauser groaned, but secretly admitted the pun was clever. "You shoulda been a comedian, not a mercenary."

With a mouthful of bright orange pulp between his lips, Leon shook his head. "No decent benefits."

Right, being the President's pawn did have luxurious advantages, didn't it? Krauser reflected moodily. But this wasn't the moment for brooding. He couldn't get distracted from finishing this mission. Instead of thinking about status and the wonderful life of being a high official, Krauser grumbled, "So she's gonna keep looking for something to eat? Didn't it take a while to find these two things?"

"She told me she'll be fine."

"She's wasting time. God knows how long locating will take. We've got to get moving soon." Krauser hefted the gourd. It felt substantial despite its small size. From the looks of Leon's sliced version, it contained a lot of pulp.

"Eat up. Manuela will be quick. She has knowledge of these plants."

Or maybe not so quick. A dart of movement caught Krauser's eye. Low, hidden beneath leaves and fallen branches near Maneula slid a venomous creature of the afternoon. Scaly and fork-tongued, the slippery thing was almost upon the unsuspecting Manuela. If she was bitten, she'd be in deeper hell than she already was. And so would he if he let the situation slide.

Hello, snake meat. Krauser's legs hoisted his upper bulk up to standing before he knew it.

Manuela contently hummed even though she was empty-handed. She jumped at a loud thwacking noise next to her foot. A newly dirtied knifed embedded itself into the ground clean through the snake. Gripping the handle was a kneeling Krauser who felt he owed an explanation as to why he almost stabbed her foot.

"Damn thing is hard to catch." He shrugged an apology and yanked up the blade with the dead snake attached to it.

"Thank you." Manuela blinked.

Krauser lifted his shoulders again, then scuttled off to his previous spot, debating if skewering his second choice to steak was a wise option. He didn't need to turn around to know Manuela watched him. Mercenary life attuned his senses to detect someone's attention on him. What he didn't know was how she studied him. He found himself wanting to discover how.

As he turned his fresh kill over in the girl's direction to pretend to examine it, Krauser shifted his eyes to her. She was a sheltered girl, unmarred by scars of killing others for money as Krauser regularly did. He quickly focused his attention on the hanging snake when her inquiring gaze caught his.

Manuela made him uneasy. With the Veronica virus brewing inside her, she was a walking time bomb. The potential for it to erupt and spread chaos was tangible. The world would explode in mayhem and Krauser and Leon were the first victims if she went berserk.

No, Krauser's unease wasn't only because of a latent possibility of an outbreak. It was a very real possibility, yes, but another easily identified trait bothered Krauser with an intensity he didn't expect.

Her eyes, the part of the body that Leon jested about, unnerved Krauser. The way the blue went on and on to pierce his insides with inquiry and curiosity.

Yes, the silent prodding of wonderment always got to him no matter how much he ignored it. Disgust would have been more tolerable. They didn't speak aside from him barking orders to keep her from getting pounded into a bloody mess by mutated beasts. Leon was the talker. Always had been.

"Hey, kid." Krauser's gravelly voice traveled the distance between them. She faced him and he lifted his melon to indicate she could have it.

Trotting over, Manuela looked surprised. "Wouldn't you like to eat it?"

Krauser blankly looked down at the bleeding snake, still impaled. He held it up as if to explain. "This is better."

She was supposed to draw away in revulsion. Dead snake escaping into one's gullet and passing through the intestinal system. Gross. Instead, she tilted her head as if she never heard anyone say that before. "How?"

He was supposed to be witty? Krauser couldn't. He didn't have the delicacy of verbal training as Leon probably did yakking up generals and what-have-you. So he went with his forte. Directness. Always got the job done. "Cooked. Tastes like chicken."

And Manuela giggled. Sat next to him with almost no hesitation. "That doesn't sound so bad. Why don't we share?"

"You want to eat snake?" Krauser almost laughed at her eagerness to ingest something she never had.

"If it tastes like chicken, as you say, than why should I be worried?" Manuela's round eyes peered at him with an openness Krauser was unaccustomed to.

"You're not?" He avoided her stare by polishing his knife again.

Manuela looked down at her re-bandaged arm. "Compared to the infection, what can a new food be such harm?"

Not knowing if the Veronica virus would take her over completely when it pleased, Krauser figured the anxiety felt like a timer running on a wild card value. If the virus were in him, would he die right away? Will insanity seize his mind first? Would he even be aware of becoming inhuman? No man wanted to confront the questions to his mortality, but here was a live example, Manuela. The chance of infection was difficult for Krauser to imagine, let alone think of it while actually having a rampant virus swimming in his veins. His body was strong and able and controlled; nothing was going to upset its balance.

For the girl, however, her body had been claimed. Yet, she remained hopeful that she could live and somehow remain herself. Fight against her depressing thoughts of leaving the world and still conjure hope amongst the despair. Admirable, indeed.

Krauser harrumphed and stuffed his wiping cloth into his pocket. His knife wasn't going to get any more spotless. "Right. New experiences are good. I'll start a fire."

Manuela's eyes lit up and she clasped the fruit. "I'll show you a neat method of cutting my half. Can I?" She pointed to his knife.

His hold on the weapon froze. His fingers didn't release. Nobody ever borrowed this dagger from him mid-mission.

"You can use mine," Leon piped in from Krauser's other side at seeing his dilemma, carefully handing the handle to her while lightheartedly eying his partner. "Krauser is really attached to his."

Krauser threw an exasperated glare which Leon clearly ignored. Manuela thanked Leon. She proceeded to cut the fruit in halves. She sang as she did. The new song.

Late lunch. Krauser's stomach wasn't objecting to that idea. He rose and gathered up a bundle of dry sticks for burning. As the melody went on, he relaxed his mind and let the notes trickle in.

- THE END -