Revised for you viewing pleasure as of 09/05/07!

I realized how shitty this chapter is.

I'll make up for it with a new and better fifth chapter soon.


Leon Scott Kennedy had to piss like a race horse.

The American looked around the blood splattered room for the twentieth time. Unfortunately, not matter how many times he tried; he could not summon a toilet out of thin air. He let out a frustrated sigh and went back to work on the piece of fabric lying in his lap.

"You know, I've been wondering…" José started to say, but once again lost himself in whatever little world he'd created to escape the harsh reality of rejection and abandonment. Leon let out another sigh from the distant corner (i.e. the only corner without a pool of blood surrounding it) he was sitting in and went back to his current side mission: Destroying any items in the room that so much as looked like they were the property of Osmund Saddler.

The mission was almost complete. Leon had taken out every speck of red on those damned heels (with the help of his trusty knife) and broken the heels of the shoes and had sharpened them to use as weapons. (He hoped that he'd be able to shove them into Saddler's eyes sockets, if given the chance…) He used the puffy yellow banana shorts to wrap up the dead appendage that was now placed in the far corner of the room. The blue and pink tie-dye shirt was now the bloody wash rag shirt, along with the shirts new best buddy, the 'Man, I feel like a woman!' shirt. The glasses, well, were already broken to begin with. The poor thing.

The only items that were not in Leon's path of destruction: The straw cowboy hat (which was innocently on a certain twenty-seven year olds head.), the compact mirror (had to check up on his appearance, he works for the government after all….Wow, I can't believe I was able to pull that sentence off with a straight face…), and the leather jacket (which José was currently wearing. Hey, you'd get cold if too if you were wearing an ugly plaid skirt that barely covered your moldy ass.)

His current work of art though, was the red dress. He'd completely ruined the hem, and stripped all sewn in patterns flawlessly. Now he was just straight out ripping it apart.

All with the help of this trusty knife! Order now and get a second one FREE! Don't leave home with out one, kids!

You do what you can to amuse yourself….And take your mind off draining the lizard…

This was officially hell. Leon didn't dare get up, for fear of ending up doing the pee dance and looking like a total fool. (Pfft, I'm funny). Like he didn't already look like one wearing a hat that looked like something straight out of Brokeback Mountain. (Ha! Get it straight out of Brokeback Mountain! Haha! I make me laugh…)

"Now I remember what I wanted to ask." José turned to face the other man on the floor. "No offense—'' Too late, why is it when someone always starts out with the words 'no offense' that you were obliged to now take offense? Leon decided not to try and think about it for now, he was getting a headache. "But, why the hell did the American government send you of all people? Why couldn't they have sent someone that could—Oh, I don't know—SPEAK SPANISH?!"

Leon thought about that for a moment. He was a little foggy on the details, but he remembered something about accepting this mission that had to do with one to many jello shots and a game of strip poker with the Secretary of Defense and her second cousin (along with few other faces that were to fuzzy to make out. He thought it was best just to forget.). Ah, good times.

Then it hit him. "HEY! The only Spanish that I need to know is, 'past that taco' and 'where the hell's the bathroom?' So, HA!" He could feel his bladder twitching at the mention of a toilet. Time to shut up now.

"And can you even say any of those poorly stated phrases?"


"Haha, you're a Spanish speaking pro, now, stupido Americano." Luke said, his voice drenched in sarcasm.


"Maybe later, Ennis."

Leon instantly threw down his hat and shredded it to pieces, whilst José exploded into a fit of ragged laughter. Leon just glared at him with thoughts of how he could kill the dumb fuck and make it look like an accident. He shredded the rest of the silky dress into ribbons and stood up. The American carefully walked over to the would-be exit of this living hell and examined it ruins. It wasn't totally destroyed; it was still quite in tact, with a few wires and sparks popping here and there.

"Enjoying your little quiet time?"

The highly respected government agent nearly pissed his pants at the sudden booming voice on the intercom.


This was quite amusing.


More sick laughter. "Who else?" The Ganado—let's call him Juan—that was most obviously not Saddler said into the microphone. The real Saddler had left long ago with a few of the other guys that had started the whole gambling clique. He was quite sure that he'd receive the same punishment as those guys, but he'd run out of popcorn and had finished the last of his twelfth beer, so he was too damn buzzed to give a care.


Ugh, does this prick ever shut up? "That is not any of your concern…" The undead man drawled, in a perfect Saddler imitation.


Who the hell was that? The Ganado on the other side of the island just shrugged and looked for another beer. This job sucks. At least there's free booze. Wait, wasn't drinking on the job a BIG no-no? Juan found another beer and popped it open. Whatever.

He downed half the bottle in one gulp and went back to his fun.

"You poor man, I can see your every move. I know everything there is to know about your pathetic life." He watched in amusement as the agent froze where he stood, looking like a deer in headlights. Juan moved the mic away from his face and giggled insanely. He took another swig of beer. Mmmm, beer. "I know everything from yur—yur—Shit, whut waz I sayin'?"


What the hell? José stopped his behind the scenes ranting and listened to what 'Saddler' was saying.

"Iz know everrithang frum yur shoes size to tha' sizze uff yur underwearrrr…."

This drunk little shit wasn't saddler…

Apparently, Leon didn't seem to notice, as he was too busy grinning like a maniac. Heheh, little does he know that I'm not WEARING any underwear…More like he had to stop wearing underwear, ever since he'd run into the Novistadors back in the castle, he really didn't see the point. (Er, you can draw your own conclusions from that…)

"Um, Saddler?"


"Could you let us out? Pleeeaaase?" José asked in the most fakest cheery voice he could manage. He began to fidget with the metal stud of the leather jacket as he waited for a response. He quickly glanced back over at the incompetent American, who was still grinning madly. He decided it was just best not to ask.

"Why should ah help yous!?" The intercom blared. Someone didn't know where the volume button was.


"WE HAVE BOOZE!" Leon shouted, finally catching on, sort of. This game is fun!

"OKAY!" Said the drunk off his ass Ganado. To drunk to know what he was doing and giggling like a school girl, he pressed few buttons on the control panel.

There was a weird click and the humming sound of an engine coming to life. Leon dashed to the lift and pressed the 'down' button. Nothing happened.

"Hey!" Leon was getting impatient. It felt as if his bladder was about to explode.

The next thing he knew, there were huge spikes sticking out of the walls and the walls were literally closing in, very fast. The spikes began to whirl around and a loud noise similar to a screw driver began to pound into the two men's ears.

"NOOOOOO!" José screamed. Running over to the American agent and clinging onto his arm he desperately sobbed, "I DON'T WANT TO DIE IN A DRAG GETUP!"

Looking up at the ceiling Leon saw the there were no bright flashy things that he could just shoot to stop the walls moving. There was nothing he could do. He was going to die. Shit.

Should he do it? Leon looked at the gold chair, then at the spiked walls moving in on him. Ah, screw it!

Leon shook the sobbing Ganado off of him and quickly made his way to the front of the chair. He unzipped his pants, and….well, you know. I am NOT going to die in a wet pair of pants…Was Leon's last thought before the walls stopped just centimeters from piercing his thick skull. The spikes disappeared back in to the thick metal walls and began to make there way back to there proper places.

"Oopsiess! Surry, wrung buooton…Aaah! Therrrre wez goo! Do I get mah booze nao?" There was another sound and the humming of an engine coming back from the dead.

José was to busy trying to rip out his eyes to notice that Leon was now zipped up and coolly walking over to the lift, which was now properly working. Satisfied with what he'd done and with absolutely not regrets, Leon Kennedy pushed button for the lift to go down and was quite disappointed to find that José had barely made it in time to jump on with him.

"That was just wrong man." The flustered man said. Leon just grinned.

When they finally reached the bottom, Leon practically flew down the stairs, when something caught his keen (pfft!) eye. He jumped over the railing and looked under the stairway.

José zipped his jacket all the way up and was praying to God for a pair of pants to fall magically from the sky when he heard a child like voice echo through the damp cave.

"Ooooh, shiny!"

José rolled his eyes as he flung off the itchy blonde wig. "Americans…"


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