A/N: It's a sad day when I'm happy to get two or three reviews... Read and review. Every time you read without reviewing, Salazar bites the head off a live and happy chicken. Keep the chickens in your thoughts, mmkay?

Oh, by the way, I've decided to sack the Spanish translation thing mainly because it's a pain in the butt to do italics and crap like that when you're on a laptop using a finger-mouse pad thing. Besides, after two chapters, you all know I speak Spanish now, right? I've done enough showing off. crowd cheers

Also, this chapter gets a little more violent than the last chapters, so bear with me. It's gonna get KUH-RAZY! Well, as if you COULDN'T write a RE fic without explicit gore and violence...

Ch.3: Character-building Riots!

Leon S. Kennedy was happily traipsing along the trail to town, as if he hadn't a care in the world, as if he hadn't been chased by crazy villagers and had been cursed by an awkward husky-dog demon just minutes ago.

Anyway, traipsing along the brown path into the brown unknown, his transceiver suddenly began to crackle and emit that harpy's wretched voice.

"Leon! Are you there? I thought I heard gunfire! Answer me Leon!"

He stopped dead and snatched the contraption off his belt in an almost startled motion and glared at it.

She sighed. "Leon, look. I'm sorry if I've done anything to upset you. Will you please say something? Anything?"

Leon looked like a crippled deer in the headlights. Not even the villagers bothered him as much as her. Suddenly, and very unexpectedly, the cogs in his brain started turning, and he got an idea. Revolutionary, I know. A very sly, smug look spread across his face. Putting his plan into action, he slowly raised his free hand and very carefully began shifting it towards the power switch.

"Don't even think about it, Leon. I can see you on-screen."

"Damnit..." Thwarted again!

She removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes. "I can see you're angry with me."

Leon pouted and looked away.

She took a deep breath and swallowed her pride. Damned code and ethics... "Look, if there's anything I can do to make it up to you,"

That piqued his interest. "I know what you can do for me."

"Alright... What is it?" She queried reluctantly, praying in her heart of hearts that it wasn't something stupid or perverted.

"..."

She gulped. "Leon?"

"The next time I have to hear your voice wailing over the transceiver, you damn well better have Jack with you. I want to see him to be sure."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Jack? Who's that?

"My pet goldfish."

She burst out in a fit of laughter.

Leon sensed her amusement, and frowned, looking very hurt. "I better see him next time you decide to call... Or I can't be held responsible for what may or may not happen," adding under his breath, "You stupid whore." And then he clicked the transceiver off, dramatically, and very, very smugly. Hunnigan, on the other end, was mad as Hell, but the transceiver's off, so we won't bother with such a LESSER being. ...Yet.

Having "served" Hunnigan, Leon could now go on his merry way in the general direction of the village. He thought that he wouldn't have to deal with her for at least a couple of days. He did, however, want to see Jack as soon as possible. So... maybe it'd be better if she WERE more resourceful than he gave her credit for.

This was about the point where his attention span waxed utterly thin, resulting in a fit of running through the scrub and brush after a white butterfly. Shortly thereafter, he was chased out shrieking like a girl by some strategically placed bear traps. When he felt like he had screwed around long enough, he moved on.

Along the path were a few shanties which Leon just assumed he could enter and ransack, doing just that! There was a typewriter in the first one, but it just fell apart as soon as Leon touched it. It probably wouldn't have fallen apart for anyone else. A fat Spaniard could take a hatchet, blow torch and hand grenade to it, and it would probably be in better condition than he found it. Leon had the sort of luck that broke almost everything he touched. However, guns were a different story. Guns, being his kindred spirits as tools of chaos and destruction, seemed to be the only things that didn't go to pieces in his hands. The transceiver had to be running out of luck…

In another one of the shanties, he came upon a potted plant. Something about the way the lighting seemed to shift around it drew his interest and made him want to think that it was incredibly important. He picked it up and examined it carefully. Then he yanked the plant out of the pot and tossed it into his mouth without a second thought. "Mmm! This is almost as good as peanut butter toast! And even better that it's free, too!" He mindlessly ate all the herbs he came across until he found one in a shanty with a woman tacked to the wall by a spike through her head. She kinda grossed him out, you know, just hanging there, so he decided to hold on to that last herb for later, when his appetite came back.

It wasn't long after he stepped out of that last shanty that he saw what he suspected to be the entrance to the village. Instead of doing the stealthy agent thing-- hiding and sizing up the situation, Leon just stood there, gaping. "They're having a weenie roast without me!"

He had spotted the bonfire, but was apparently unaware of the corpse impaled on the spike, and went charging in with all the enthusiasm of a bull running rampant through the streets of Madrid. He dashed in and stopped at the foot of the enormous bonfire, warming his hands in its glow.

"Hey, any of you guys got a stick?" Leon asked the villagers standing around him. "I know this is a weenie roast, and I would have come prepared normally, but I wasn't planning on anything like this, so…"

They all stared at him. They knew he was coming, but they didn't think he'd just come charging in like that…

Leon searched his person. Let's see… He had a flashlight, ammo, a conveniently semi-existent attaché case, one herb, a pistol, a knife, some gum and a lock of Jack the goldfish's hair. Wait, scratch that last one. That's not even possible. He DID have a lock of somebody's hair, though…

Then suddenly, like a sign from heaven, his transceiver started to crackle and emit noise. He turned to the villagers sheepishly and gave them that "just a sec," gesture, and left to deal with Hunnigan. He had totally forgotten about his transceiver with the RIDICULOUSLY LONG RETRACTING ANTENNA! After a short (VERY short) inner battle, he clicked the talk button and said, "STOP SAYING WORDS!" and snapped off the antenna without a second thought.

Marching victoriously, he returned to the group of confused villagers. "Alright, where are the weenies?"

They gave each other questioning looks and whispered among themselves. Our hero grew more puzzled with every second he didn't see weenies. Deciding that it was WAY too awkward to just stand there and stare at them, he turned to the bonfire and started glancing around nervously. It was at that moment he saw the corpse. "Yech."

He wasn't so much frightened as he was disgusted by this gruesome display and wondered if the corpse was anyone he knew. That jacket he was wearing was so familiar. Like he'd seen it only a moment ago… It read 'Policia.' He knew some Policia! "OH MY GOSH!" He cried, slapping his cheeks, "I totally know this guy!"

Yes, he had just only realized that it was one of his archenemies. The villagers had killed Leon's archenemy for him. It was a known fact that someone taking care of whatever Leon had started was one of his biggest pet peeves.

With a murderous gleam in his eye, he turned to the villagers. He pointed at the corpse burning at the stake. "How could you do this? Was he a witch or something?" No answer. "How could you bastards kill him? I WAS SUPPOSED TO KILL HIM!"

The whole was taken aback. Even if they didn't know what he was saying, it's universally a bad thing when someone yells. The bravest fat man took out his pitchfork and jabbed it at Leon forcefully. Leon dodged it with surprising grace.

The people started closing in on him, others coming out of their hiding places to join the fun half-circle slowly enveloping our hero. Leon drew his gun and checked to see if it was still loaded. "I see how it is." He said. The people brandished their weapons threateningly.

Everything came to a standstill, each waiting for the other to make the first move. A bald man in a wife beater to Leon's right took the first swing, and Leon sidestepped it, pistol whipping said bald man on his way down. Somebody screamed and sent all the people into a frenzy of flying farm tools and implements. Leon dodged most all of them except a hatchet that nicked his left shoulder, splitting the shoulder of his HAWT aviator jacket open a little. Leon shrieked like a little girl and ducked a flying pitchfork. Desperate for a way out of the crowd, he dove between a psychotic woman's legs, who screeched and returned the favor by stabbing him nicely in the butt on his way through.

He howled and grabbed his buttocks while the crazy woman cackled madly in the background. He checked his butt, and found that she had left a neat little blood-stain on the right butt cheek of his pants, making him scowl and shake his fist at her angrily. Then he remembered that he was in middle of a hardcore fray and sought refuge at the nearest house, only to find that it was boarded up and the steps leading up to the door were rotted through to the point where they were completely unusable. The windows were all boarded shut, too.

Seeing no other option, he ran out the entrance of the village, only to find it magically blocked by more stupid villagers. He looked behind to see the others closing in on him.

When it seemed that all hope was lost, he noticed an alternate pathway into the village that had evaded him before because of his nonexistent attention span. He took the path and re-entered the village, going along the side of the useless house to a pile of logs where he found a wooden box. He smiled to himself. Yup, he knew what to do with these. He lifted it up over his head and smashed it on the ground to reveal a red version of the herb he found earlier. He picked it up without another thought and got a short running start to dive through the window of the house behind him.

Shaking the glass off himself, he re-established his position and backed himself into a corner where he could easily see the window he just jumped through and the door.

The sounds of the villagers' moaning and Spanish-speaking grew closer. They began pounding on the door. He could hear them surrounding the house.

One young villager came into view and began climbing through the broken window, three or four more standing behind him, waiting for their turn. Leon cocked his gun and fired, striking the young one on the shoulder, forcing him into the crowd gathering behind him. They all stumbled and Leon shot another in the head, making it explode like a ripe melon. His face cringed at the sight.

The other villagers were close to breaking down the door and all Leon could think about was his throbbing backside. He capped a few more villagers through the window and hopped over the window sill. Outside, he was instantly spotted by the mob, and he ran like a madman around to the front of the house next door, hopping the fence around the front door and slamming the door behind him. He spotted a dresser and pushed it in front of the door, and pushed a bookcase in front of a window, hoping that this would hold long enough for him to ransack the house.

He spotted two barrels sitting nicely side by side underneath the stairs. Oh, yes. He recognized that old weathered wood. It was the old weathered wood of anything that could be busted open to yield goodies. His only problem was getting them open. He tried lifting them, but that wasn't happening. They weren't wooden boxes, you know. Then he had an epiphany and poked them with his knife. Interestingly enough, they fell apart instantaneously. The pounding of the mob's fists and weapons on the door and window didn't leave him long to ponder the mystery of the barrels, so he dashed upstairs to see what he could see.

Upstairs was a dirty bed with shotgun ammo on it, and a grenade in a cabinet. He took the grenade and stuffed it in his coat pocket and pocketed the shotgun ammo.

He turned and noticed the shotgun's reverent beauty hanging on a silly-looking gun rack/picture frame on the wall. With teary eyes, Leon took that beauteous piece of machine in his hands and caressed its every angle. Destructive power practically flowed from its being. With love in his eyes, he said, "I christen thee Mimsy."

Suddenly, Leon's tender moment was rudely interrupted by the revving of chainsaws downstairs. With new resolve, Leon cocked the shotgun one-handedly and stood at the top of the stairs to send a warm greeting to his Spanish friends.

To be continued… Will Mimsy's new added strength give Leon what he needs to survive? Tune in next time…