#Krauser/Dullahan | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stop-pressing-e · 2 years ago

Text

Portrait of a Soldier

The Lost Swan

/Thought I decide to share another one of my stories about Krauser and Dullahan and this is one of the first stories I wrote about before The Lost Swan. So think of it as a look into their little quiet life.

Enjoy reading!/

Mentions of: Suggestive talks and Krauser being a prev lol

It started off with a little headshot sketch of Krauser at the corner of the paper on the layout of the building she had drawn out so they could set out a plan to infiltrate. It was a small sketch not bigger from his index finger and yet nothing was missing from his face with those detailing of his scars done with a ballpoint pen. Dullahan didn’t realise it as he hid it with a mug. It was only when she was folding it away was when the sight of the sketch made her remember what she had done, forced to pretend that she didn’t see her own work or that Krauser knew it was her doing.

She won’t know that he liked her little sketch.

The next time Krauser discovered more of her work was when he dropped by her loft via the glass door on her balcony. He was given a keycard by her recently so he could enter her place normally, but oh well, old habits die hard sometimes. He knew Dullahan was currently away on her own missions so he took his chance to recuperate for a couple of days after taking quite a number of mercenary works over the past couple of weeks. Two days should be enough for him. Maybe more if he’s waiting for her return. He does miss her admittedly after all. There were some leftovers that were still good, coffee was full, and his clothes awaiting for his next return were neatly ironed and folded when he opened his wardrobe.

Her loft was spotless as usual knowing the hitman needed the sense of order in her own haven.

The easel, however, was not standing there last time he was here.

Krauser knew she does art as a hobby and he has seen her paint from landscapes to still life of the places she has visited. Last time he had seen her paint was at an opera house she attended alone and he watched her paint the singer on stage before returning his focus to his weapons. Normally when she’s not painting she would have it tucked away.

There a fabric was draped over the easel, presumably to hide the canvas underneath. Curiosity got the best of him to take a peek at her new project. The canvas remained blank, save for a memo stuck to it to remind her to buy more paints, and figure out how to get the smile right for the portrait she’s going to be working on. When it comes to her little art studio in the corner of the living room, there would always be an artist’s sketchbook to see what the memo was talking about. And so there it is, the red well loved leather bound sketchbook is found resting on the table. He has seen her sketches before and albeit without her permission, so nothing like the usual peek doesn’t hurt anyone.

Only he didn’t expect to see his own face staring back at him. Krauser’s face was drawn quite stern with a pencil based on the shading on his face and how most of the details were focused on his eyes to the wrinkle of his brow and the furrow on his mouth. Why the hell did she draw him like this? Was that how she saw him when he got annoyed with her or anyone during those times? That woman, unbelievable. However, that wasn’t the only sketch she had drawn of him. In fact, there were a lot more sketches of him. From headshots to full body drawings of him in various poses and with different mediums, she has filled out a variety of him in over five pages. A couple of them were nude drawings of him done with charcoal and watercolours.

The way she had drawn those were not done in a lewd way or to make him look like a god. Dullahan had drawn him as she had seen him whenever he’s naked, normal. The way his back muscles shifted in charcoal as he was drawn sprawled out on his front on the leather couch he lain on, recalling the time she had given him a back massage. The other drawing that was done in watercolour was when he was taking a shower. He looked completely bliss, possibly for the fact that he was taking a hot shower at the time when she walked in and he never saw her admiring his body from the door that was not lustful.

He has to admit, she has done an amazing job drawing him that he couldn’t help but smile a little upon each inspection of his own appearance. It was then he realised what the memo had meant on the smile. The headshots of him had been drawn with a smile on his face. It wasn’t a big obvious kind that gets into everyone’s face and nor was it a faint kind. It was…simply there, smiling back at the person holding the sketchbook. The smile in those sketches were not exactly how he’s smiling right now, but he can clearly see how hard she had worked to get it right from a pencil to a pen in most of her sketches of him based on imagination alone. Krauser rarely smiles and never does even when a day is good. It was always neutral or stern looking with a rarity of smirking to tease the woman.

The sketchbook was placed back where it found and positioned it correctly so when Dullahan returns, she doesn’t know that he took a peek inside of it and see what has been on her mind lately to draw these out. Krauser has seen past headshots of people she has met once to people she knew but to have multiple drawings of a particular person made him feel special about it and that simply has him smiling as he heads upstairs to shower and get ready to sleep in her bed.

The next time he was at her place, Dullahan now Trish Odile was home too as it was one of her days off from both her waitress job and her hitman contracts, allowing her time to relax and recuperate too. Krauser was lounging at the couch with a book from her bookcase in hand and Trish painting by the glass doors. Both of them minding their own business in the comforts of their home.

From the placement he laid himself across the couch, it was the perfect angle to sneak a peek at Trish in the middle of painting, knowing full well she must be painting a portrait of him based from one of her sketches at her opened sketchbook by her side. Sometimes he would sneak a peek at her finely shaped legs sticking out from the oversize T-shirt she’s wearing that currently belongs to him, also knowing full well that she missed the smell of his scent as he does with her bedsheets. The way her ankles crossed over one another, or how one is crossed over the leg when she leans closer towards the canvas, and sometimes his favourite is when she tucked a leg under her or propped a knee up all while fixing up the shirt, sneaking a glimpse of the rest of her legs and to see if she’s either wearing underwear underneath or those tight yoga shorts.

“You’re staring at me.” Trish called him out on his peeking, never once halted her work and her eye not leaving the canvas to look at him. She wasn’t going to admit that she was peeking at him on her end too. Krauser looked content in his position and the book he chose to read was The Invisible Man. From her angle it was her eyepatch he would see her ‘looking’ back at him, and yet she still knew he was looking at her. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” He said, flicking his gaze back on the words he last stopped at, pretending to skim through the sentences to continue his rouse of reading. “Just curious about what you’re painting this time.” He can hear the creaks of the chair being made as she shifted her position again. “Something for my mission soon.” She started. “I have to act as a painter for a gala my target is going to open and I’ll need enough examples to show them to him to have them on display.”

“Sounds fun.” He knew it was a lie and simply went along with it. “You already have your alias on this mission?” “Of course.” Trish let out a chuckle as she stood up and stretched her body, allowing Krauser to lower the book a bit to catch his shirt riding up to see those legs again. He’s going to have them wrap around his waist very soon on this couch and hear that moan she’s currently making after she has stretched.

Trish finally looked at him, a small smile forming on her face. “Do you want to attend the gala as my plus one when the time comes?” “Tch, fancy events are not my forte for missions like yours.” He brought the book up to hide his face and soon catches the hitman approaching him from the top of the book, catching sight of the small pout she’s making. “I’ll pass.”

“You’re no fun, Jackie.” She purred out his nickname he secretly liked as she got closer, and soon she was straddling on his hips, taking the book away so she could have his full attention on her. “It would be nice to see you wearing a suit for once. Maybe one of those fancy military suits you probably had to wear during your army times.”

“What will you be wearing?” He asked her, resting his hands on her hips and rubbing one of his thumbs over the outline of her lower garments. It was definitely the yoga pants. “Matter of fact, what are you wearing underneath?” His free hand decides to sneak under the shirt and tries to tug down the shorts. “I don’t see your nipples poking out. Bra?”

Trish cocked her head to the head, the smile switching to a smirk. “Take it off?”

“That’s an order.” He stopped her from removing his shirt. “Leave it on. Bra off.” Krauser soon smirked when Trish let out a huff while she complied to his orders, snapping off the hooks with the flick of her hand, pulled the straps out from the sleeves, and then pulled out the said bra itself from the opening of the shirt. It was lacy and dark red, one of his favourite colours and one of his favourite sets from hers. Once her shorts were pulled off, Trish planted her hands on his chest while her hips gave the slightest rub against his clothed hips, a soft moan emitted from her lips, and bowing her head down so their faces were quite close to each other.

“Now what, Jackie?”

“You start by calling me ‘Sir’ this time.” He said, grabbing a fistful of her hair in his grasp, pulling her head back to hear that sweet sharp gasp. “And get down on your knees on the floor right now, sweetheart.”

The strong smell of lavender from her shampoo disappeared from his nose, leaving a lingering scent and forcing him to wake up from his deep slumber. Trish was gone from his grasp in the king size bed they shared. Krauser forced himself to sit up from his place, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes to see the warm light illuminating the little art studio. He quietly slid out of the bed, approaching the balcony to see the woman preparing her tools and her paints to continue her work at the canvas. From the top, he can’t see the progress of her work from where he stood and due to her angling the canvas to ensure her shadow doesn’t obstruct her painting session.

He wasn’t sure why of all times, especially in the middle of the night, she chose to continue painting. He had to step back into the darkness when he watched her rush to the kitchen for what he could tell was boiling water to make tea or coffee. It was tea since he doesn’t smell coffee. As much as he wanted to head downstairs and confront her about it, he left it be, returning to the warm sheets and the alluring smell of her body lotion she applied on herself on the comforter to the smell of her lavender shampoo on her pillow.

Dullahan wasn’t lying about having a mission as a painter and he can’t believe he actually joined her as her plus one for the gala they’re attending. Dullahan had to disguise herself with a blonde wig, green contact lens, and cover up her scars as usual. Krauser did not as no one in this building would recognize him. Not even the security guards who simply waved them in and didn't check him for any weapons he might carry, which is his knife hidden inside his jacket. No military suit for him but a simple yet classic black tuxedo Dullahan has managed to convince himself to wear with a black bowtie. As for her, she wore a dark red dress with spaghetti straps and a long silt on her skirt, exposing her right leg.

The sight of her chest simply revealing for other men to take a quick look at almost had jealousy bubbling at the pit of his stomach while at the same time he admitted that she looked sexy wearing this kind of dress and in the same shade of red like her bra a week ago. To be the matter of fact she’s not wearing a bra at all for her outfit.

“What colour is your underwear right now?” He whispered in her ear while Dullahan collected two glasses of champagne from a passing server, handing one to Krauser. A teasing grin formed on her face. “Why ask me such a curious question like that, darling?” Her voice was laced with a sweet enduring tone a lover would give to their significant other since they are posing as a married couple. She tugged on his arm with her arm wrapped around him to guide him to one of her paintings people are admiring currently. The first painting was a beautiful beach with the view of the ocean, and if one looked closely at the cliff, there was a little cottage, with a lone woman walking along the path barefoot and her shoes held in her one hand. Part of the body concealed with a parasol.

Krauser, who is not a fan of the fine arts, was oddly impressed by the colours she used in her painting. It almost gives off a hazy feeling of a dream one might still be having currently. He doesn’t recognise where the beach is and he’s simply assuming it must be her dream for the future. Peace and quiet.

Dullahan tugged his sleeve to get him to lean down as they head for the next painting and whisper in his ear. “It’s black and it’s a thong.”

A smirk graced his lips. There was no one by one of her other paintings, allowing him the chance to whisper what he has in mind for her. “The next time you wear this dress again and I have to tag along, I want you to wear nothing underneath it.” Trish, continuing to keep up her facade of enjoying her time, simply smiled as if he told her something sweet before she took a sip of her champagne. “I will make you rub yourself on my leg like a depraved whore and it’ll be music in my ears to hear you beg for sweet relief from me.”

Whether it was automatically or by his words alone, her face flushed and she let out a soft giggle, hiding her smile with her glass. “Oh darling, how sweet of you. I should go and find our dear host and say my thanks to him. Hopefully I won’t take long but meet me in the private room over there soon.” Pointing at the closed doors guarded by two men at both sides of the door with a velvet rope to steer off anyone from approaching. “Tell them you’re with me and they’ll let you in.” Trish patted his broad shoulder and winked at him. “Fifteen minutes. Enjoy yourself, honey.”

He did his best to enjoy the rest of the gala alone. It was almost suffocating with people asking him for his thoughts and opinions on other artists’ works to Dullahan’s. As much as he didn’t like any of the artworks, he wished he could slit their throat right now if someone makes another disapproving remark on her paintings simply because of their thoughts on them. Bloody critics they are.

Fifteen minutes was nearly up and Krauser made his way to the private room she told him about. He noticed a selected number of people were allowed to enter, possibly connections with the said painters itself, and he was one of them to enter as soon he told the guards of his connection with Dullahan’s alias.

The lightning in the room was dimmer and warmer compared to outside and there was a lesser number of paintings itself. Only five paintings, each belonging to one artist themself. One of the patrons did a double take on Krauser and was forced to look away when he bared his teeth at them.

Why were they looking at him like that?

That’s when he met his painted self hanging on the wall. His portrait was wearing his military suit during his golden years with his signature red beret he wears now. In the painting, he was sitting on a fancy chair, his signature knife resting in his hand with his elbow resting on his knee propped up higher than the other. It made him look like he was one of those commanders from old period war era but with a modern take of it. Krauser noticed that she painted him scar free of them, making him look less stern than he is currently yet there was a glint of mischief in those icy painted blue eyes and the way his head is angled to the side as if someone caught him thinking something bad. More importantly, it was the smile she painted on him. It still wasn’t right but the way the corner of his mouth curled upwards to the way his lips parted very slightly exposing a flash of teeth matched the mischief look she painted. The background she painted was a dark green with a single window behind him showing a brief view of the beach that oddly looked familiar.

Krauser was honestly awed by how much work she put into this portrait of him. He was lost with thoughts and no words could describe how she portrayed him to be displayed for private eyes to see.

Dullahan finally arrived, joining the soldier by his side. She smiled from seeing his stunned expression of her latest painting. She took note of his body language from his right hand cupping his own face, possibly to hide those parted lips from her eyes, the way his brows knitted together while one of them was raised, and how he wouldn’t stop staring at the painting to look at the painter herself.

“I’m glad you like it, Jackie.” She spoke softly so only they could hear it. “To be honest, I didn’t want this on display at the gala but he insisted I do. Thankfully none of these in this room are for sale but the ones outside.” She tucked the loose strands of her blonde wig behind her ear while she looked around their surroundings. “He’ll die slowly and by tomorrow it’ll be on the news. From a heart attack or a sudden stroke.” She leaned against him, resting her head on his arm. “What do you think of it?”

“I like the colours.” He said. “Plus you didn’t make me look like those arrogant captains painted like gods.”

“Glad to hear that, love.” Her mouth twisted and sighed a bit to herself. “The only thing I don’t like is that I couldn’t get your smile right. I did the best I could with what I did there.”

“I don’t care. Looks good to me.” His answer was nonchalant despite her disappointment at the one thing she couldn’t achieve correctly. “Next time if you think of painting me again, paint the scars on. It’ll look better.”

“I’ll take note of that.” Dullahan lifted her head up to give him a sincere smile for his honest words. “I’m heading back out so I can have an alibi. Care to join me?”

“In a moment.”

“Sure thing.” She nodded her head and soon left the private room. Once everyone else had left the room, a smile graced his scarred lips, cocking his head to the side to admire the painting better and soon letting out a chuckle while stuffing his hands into his pockets. She nor anyone will ever see him smile right before their eyes and that will be his own secret. Besides, he liked how she painted her version of his smile. Despite not being a fan of art, he’s certainly a fan of her work.

“You did well, sweetheart. You did well.”

#Jack Krauser #Dullahan #Krauser/Dullahan #Hatter's writing #Jack Krauser X OC #Krauser X OC #Resident Evil Krauser

6 notes · View notes

stop-pressing-e · 2 years ago

Text

The Lost Swan - Chapter 1

Prev chapter | Next chapter

/Decided to combine two chapters into one for this post since one of them is quite short. Enjoy reading!/

It started with a decapitation.

Not hers of course. She has been long decapitated to survive without her body and vice versa. This one was someone from her list. Someone she can finally cross off after taking quite a damn while to hunt down.

This was not the only execution here. Bodies littered the hall, blood splattered the walls and windows, and the probability of the cause of death is between bullets or beheadings. It’ll be impossible to get on the news as it will surely be covered up to one person's death only and no one knows who did it. But those people do. They know who has done it.

Dullahan. The infamous hitman who is rumored to be headless. Whoever was her target, they were already lost. No one has ever survived her assassination hits and no one lived to tell the tale of their survival. Whoever did lived, they were either a liar or they’ll be next.

Dullahan cleaned the blood off her axe before the hardlight disappeared and she disassembled the weapon to tuck them away. There was nothing left to do but place the head back onto the neck of the dead body and positioned it neatly so it wouldn't fall off until someone decided to investigate it. It’ll be one hell of a scare for the poor soul. By the time she leaves, the cameras will turn themselves back on and no one can know how she managed to sneak in and escape without triggering the alarm.

Ah, a magician never reveals their tricks.

The helmet, her weapons, and her jacket were packed away into the boot of the car, her robotic arm was switched to her wooden arm, and she changed out from her turtleneck crop top for a black shirt and a brown leather jacket. She tied her hair up into a high ponytail and soon pulled up her hood to shield herself from the rain. She made her way to a quaint little bar far away from the building she was once in.

Smoke hung in the air mixed with the smell of sweat and various smells of perfume and cologne.

Trish placed herself a few chairs away from the back exit and ordered herself a rum and coke. She let out a small yawn to herself, covering it with the back of her hand, right as a shot glass and her order was placed underneath her nose. Clearly she didn’t order the shot of tequila.

The bartender didn’t say who since they had to focus on their other customers needing a refill or a new drink. However, she does knows who ordered the drink for her and she’s watching the man approach her with a cheeky grin on her face. Jack Krauser sat next to her, setting his beret down and his bottle of beer next to her glass.

“How sweet of you, Jackie.” She chuckled underneath her breath.

“This is only one time, Girl Scout.” He replied back, taking a swig of his beer. “You’ve handle that kind of job well without fucking it up.”

“Oh darling, how you tend to underestimate me at times.” She chuckled once more as she raised the shot glass as a toast towards the mercenary and tossed her head back fast, and set the glass upside down. “Oh! Good stuff. Strong too.”

They said nothing during the duration of their drinking nor discussed her mission report. They were in public and they were simply blending in as civilians and a couple enjoying a moment together. No one could tell clearly but it was their knees touching each other under the bar table, the occasional glance at one another when they’re not looking at each other, and the briefest touch with their pinky finger.

“I’m heading to the washroom, love.” Trish said when she slid off her chair. “Be a dear and pay for our drinks, I’ll be back soon.” She held back a chuckle when he let out a quiet scoff underneath his breath. Krauser made sure to take a glance of her ass as she made her way to the restroom. It was quickly blocked off when someone quickly rushed themselves to the door before Trish pushed it open. Asshole.

Krauser glanced at his watch when he mentally counted down the five minutes it’ll take for her to be done. Three minutes was the quickest. It was seven minutes and Krauser was ready to check on her, knowing it was unusual for Trish to take quite a while and no one heard any commotion happening inside. He had his hand on the door to push it open when it nearly collided with his face.

“Shit sorry.” The voice didn’t belong to Trish and certainly not with that accent this person has. Their face was partly concealed with their hood and Krauser bared his teeth at them when he scowled, earning a frightened squeak from them. He caught a glimpse of their face before they made their way to the door. Trish raised an eyebrow at Krauser and let out a sigh. “Really now, love? Poor thing looks like she’s going to piss herself again.”

“What took you so long in there?” He asked her, almost giving her his commanding tone, making her half frowned in his direction, her brows furrowed together.

“Jackie, relax.” She was using his pet name again to calm him down this time. She always uses it when he gets impatient, if not almost possessive. “My stall lock had some problem so I had to ask for her help to stand guard and then she asked me to do the same. Poor thing got locked in so I had to help her out.” She patted his arm tentatively with a small assuring smile on her face. "Nothing bad but bad luck. Are you ready to leave?”

Her response earned a huff from his nostrils and he held out his palm towards her to get the car keys from her. The smile remained on her face as she gave it to him and followed him out of the bar and towards the car.

Trish’s side of the bed was empty when Krauser randomly woke to go use the bathroom. The first thing to do was to check the other room she booked using one of her aliases as a cover. The door was locked, assuming she decided to sleep there for a reason, so he knocked on it and waited. His knocks were loud enough to rouse her from her sleep and she would answer it in no time. However, there was no response. Wrinkles formed on his forehead and he was ready to grab his knife to break in.

“What are you doing, Krauser?”

Trish stood in the hallway, her head tilted in his direction, giving him the same raised brow and half frown on her face. She was still wearing his shirt he took off as sleepwear with a pair of dark jeans, sneakers, and the brown leather jacket over it. She was not wearing her wooden arm with her outfit. “You do know I have a trap installed at the foot of the door if you plan on breaking in. The key is literally at your table.”

“Where the hell did you go off to?” His voice was gruff from his slumber. His answer from her was the wave of her only hand. “Took a small walk around the area. My legs were having jitters again.” Krauser knew of her body having jitters to the point of her body parts coming undone. It has happened before and timing is unknown as it’ll happen out of the blue without warning. What Trish had told him when he had to reattach her parts back together was having one of her PTSD moments. Something he eerily understood without a question.

“I didn’t want to wake you up.” She whispered softly, looking away. “I’m sorry if I made you worry, love.” All he can do is let out a long heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Get back inside and…” “Yes?” “No nevermind. Your legs are fine now?”

She nodded her head. “Better.”

Krauser made her enter before him, leaving the door still open as she got ready to go back to sleep again. He glanced over to the balcony to take a look of the view of the parking lot and part of the motel building across them. No other lights from any of the rooms but the reception area downstairs. Icy blue eyes scanned the lot, presumably the area Trish decided to have her little walk to calm down while it was still raining.

The big question he didn’t point out was how was she not wet if she’s not carrying an umbrella on her? What was it she’s not telling him about?

#Jack Krauser #Dullahan #Jack Krauser X OC #Krauser X OC #Krauser/Dullahan #Resident Evil Krauser #The Lost Swan #Hatter's writing

4 notes · View notes

stop-pressing-e · 2 years ago

Text

The Lost Swan - Epilogue

Prev chapter Prologue

/After three months of writing this, it's finally done. Originally, I wrote this for one single friend in mind, but I chose to share this story with others who would be interested.

I would like to say my thanks to those who left likes on the past chapters and have taken the time to read them. I have the google docs version in the middle of editing to be better if anyone wants that too. HMU on it and feel free to ask me about the story or about anything :D Once again, thank you for reading this story and may you have a lovely day.

-Midnight Hatter/

“Do you see our fair man, love?”

“Negative.”

Florence, Italy. Such a beautiful city to visit and to admire the beautiful buildings and admire the famous works made by recognisable artists. A lovely city indeed but alas they were not here to sightsee or enjoy themselves. They are still on the job. Perched on one of the many rooftops where no one could see them as they minded their own business and pleasure, Dullahan and Krauser scanned for their target through a sea of people. Based on the new information given, he should be among the crowd after leaving the show.

Dullahan slowly inhaled and exhaled to avoid moving the rifle or else the light from the setting sun should reflect the scope and catch anyone’s attention. Krauser continued to search for him through his binoculars. That’s when he caught sight of a face seen from the photo not in the crowd of people but from the window.

“Dullahan, I have eyes on our target.” Krauser said. “Second floor. Open window.” The hitman adjusted her rifle to her new location, she smiled to see him too. “Perfect. It seems he’s still shaken after what our dear lad has done to send the message. I have a visual on the target when the time comes. On your command, Silverdax.”

Together they watched their target smoke a cigar while having a conversation with someone next to him. The other person was unimportant to them until they saw their target handing his friend a small folder. Krauser switched his binoculars for a camera to zoom in and take a few shots of the little interactions and of who could be their new target with the organisation’s permission and their client’s decision.

“Shall I take the shot now, Silverdax?”

“Wait…” He held a finger up, though she couldn't see it with the lack of a left eye. “Ten seconds from now…” She silently counted down, her finger moving towards the trigger. “Now.”

Dullahan fired and together they saw their target fall backwards and the other man jumped back in horror by what he had witnessed up close. It was enough of that. Their job was done and they were packing up before their guards could try and identify the location of the shot.

They made sure their clothes were clean and straightened up to avoid suspicious looks from the locals and tourists, so they walked back to their hotel hand in hand. Trish carrying the duffel bag holding their gears and Krauser carrying the briefcase containing her rifle.

“I hope we can stay in Italy a bit longer.” Trish hummed softly as she gazed at the row of shops that were closing up for the day and the people still out and enjoying their time. Her arm wrapped around his arm, squeezing his muscled limb gently, and resting her head against his shoulder. “His buddy looked like someone we will have to handle soon.”

“Are you hoping there will be an event he’ll be attending and we’ll have to dress up for it?” There was no doubt Krauser could be right on his prediction. Her kind of targets are always attending luxurious events he would never go for, but the sight of her in a dress and all dressed up was enough to convince him to enjoy the moment while they’re on the job. He earned a chuckle from her. “After watching his buddy get killed right before his eyes? I doubt so, darling. But that would be nice. I would love to dance in a ballroom again.”

“If he stays at a nice hotel that has a ballroom, I’ll see to bribing the staff to allow us a private night for ourselves.”

“Oh monsieur, how romantic of you.” Trish angled her head to smile at her husband. “But alas, that will have to wait. I can settle for dancing in our living room when we return home eventually.” Krauser returned a small smirk to his wife. “Fine by me.”

By the time guards have made their way to the location the shot has happened, the duo were long gone from the area and no one has seen what happened or seen anyone looking suspicious. The guards left frustrated, the organisation satisfied by the result, and the client pleased.

For Trish Odile and Jack Krauser?

They were enjoying the rest of their hours starting with dinner in a quaint little restaurant that was still open with a nice bottle of wine. A peaceful stroll in Cascine Park to enjoy while they admired the number of statues throughout the park and made their way to the Arno River. They’ve made their way to the Central Market and bought some trinkets for their home to finalise their night in Florence. Nothing to disturb them. No one to interrupt their evening. Nothing to force them to look over their shoulders out of paranoia or suspicion. What a day to end their time after a job well done.

It was a perfect day for the perfectly imperfect couple.

THE END

#Jack Krauser #Dullahan #Krauser/Dullahan #Hatter's writing #The Lost Swan #Jack Krauser X OC #Krauser X OC #Resident Evil Krauser

2 notes · View notes

stop-pressing-e · 2 years ago

Text

The Lost Swan - Chapter 27

Prev chapter | New chapter Prologue

/At first I thought this was going to be the final chapter but it got too long so the next post will be the final chapter itself. I promise you.

Enjoy reading!/

Mentions of: Violence and blood

Blood and saliva spilled on the floor when Krauser keeled over in his chair, coughing out as much as he could. His interrogator, Dexter, dropped the knuckle duster back on the table and massaged his knuckles and the muscles of his thumbs to ease out the cramps. He was tied to the furniture- his wrists, his waist, and his legs. Rope was futile for his strength and size so they resorted to tying him down with chains.

“I’m not going to ask you again, Krauser.” Dexter said with a heavy sigh. “Confess what you’re actually doing and the boss will change his mind in executing you. He really does enjoy the great work you’ve done here for him. For us.” Whether he was genuine or sugar coating his words, he needed Krauser’s confession so he could report it to his boss within today. If only his boss was here to see through the interrogation as well, but alas, he’s in a different country at the moment. The mercenary’s body was littered with fresh bruises, cuts, and blood from the interrogation. It’s been two hours but Krauser showed no signs of giving in easily.

Krauser spitted out blood and it nearly hit his shoe, unintentionally or not. “That’s my job isn’t it? Improve your defences.” Talking hurts his jaw even as the plaga is doing their job healing it quickly. Blood was trailing down his nose too, seeping into his mouth to taste the coppery taste.

“And our security.” Dexter’s nose wrinkled from the saliva that could have hit his shoe. It was bought recently with his bonus and he doesn’t want anything to ruin them. What a poor decision to wear them today for this occasion.

Krauser lifted his head, the pain throbbing on his face, catching a glimpse at the glowing red dot at the camera at the corner. He once again spit out the blood and saliva, and this time to the side, and wrinkled his nose to breathe properly once it was healed up nicely. “Sounds about right.” If only there was a clock in this room. That way he can count how long it would take for the events to happen. It should have happened during his interrogation. “You’re a smart man there, private. You have sharp eyes too. Always making sure everything was in place, in order, nothing stolen.” Icy blue eyes flickered to his interrogator’s eyes. “Why else am I here beaten black and blue for simply being in the data room?”

“Who hired you to steal our information?” He asked Krauser, slamming his hands onto the unoccupied space of the armrests, his tone low and heavy. “You and very few people other than myself and the boss knew what kind of data we’ve collected. What we’ve been doing. Tell me who and-”

Screams can be heard reverberating through the closed door. Or was that coming from upstairs? Dexter straightened himself and spun at the door. His brow furrowed in confusion and possibly in horror. There can’t be an outbreak in their fortress. No, the special forces? He heard Krauser letting out a pained chuckle. “I’m not here to steal the information.” He finally confessed. “I’m here to collect it back. Information you stole from a very particular person right under his nose, gave them to your boss to ensure you’re not discovered, and in return allowed him to let you work for him and help develop his own creations from them. Umbrella’s plans are proven useless now that they are cracking down on the bioweapons from other ‘resources’, but R.A.S’s information is still valuable. Something his scientists are loving to try on to understand genetic alterations.”

It was impossible for anyone to know what he did. He even killed his own crew to ensure no one would rat him out or tell anyone outside from their team who could be snitches. Gunshots were heard as well. While Krauser remained calm from what he’s hearing, it didn’t allow his interrogator to feel the same way, forcing himself to be armed with his gun.

“While it is my job to ensure no one trespasses the fortress, you have to remember that I’m the only one who did everything to improve your defences.” When he formed a cruel grin on his face, blood stained his teeth. “But I wasn’t the only one who created the plans and layouts.”

“You were never working alone.” Realisation set in for the poor man. “Who is your partner? Tell me now!” The gun gripped tighter in his hands when screams and gunshots grew louder and all of the sudden it was abruptly silenced off. “Who is it?”

A knock was made at the door. Hard and heavy due to the door being metal.

“The one you should fear more than me. The reason why we’re here in the first place.”

The door handle was tested to see if it was locked, and it was. Someone started trying to kick the door down madly. The gun was immediately pointed at the door if the attacker managed to break it somehow. Normally Dexter was level headed and had a plan, he was a soldier for R.A.S. after all, but when it comes to his life after hearing bloody murder going on outside, he starts to fire blindly at the door, hoping the bullets will pierce through the metal. The kicking ceased but they can see small bumps were created.

“Who is it?” He whispered. “You’re always a lone wolf.”

Krauser dragged his tongue across his teeth to taste more of his blood and mostly to clean his teeth free of it. “I still am. But with her,” a cruel grin formed on his face right as something thin and sharp cut through the lock, “it’s a package deal.”

“Her?” His voice failed to keep it levelled, coming to a hushed shook. “It can’t be…” The door opened and the interrogator fired without a second thought towards the head. The bullets hit no head at all.

Krauser let out a deep dark chuckle as he watched the colour drain away on the other man's face and horror stricken to be reunited with his fear herself. Dullahan’s body entered the room wielding her axe stained with blood.

“The Headless Horseman.”

– – –

Dullahan gently pressed her fingers around the black eye on Krauser’s left eye and he let out a low grunt from the pain. “You need to keep applying the ice if you want this to go away faster.” “Is that all you’re going to check, dollface?” Despite the cut on his bottom lip, he still gave a smirk at her. The cuts on his body were gone but not the bruises. Her hands smoothed over his muscled figure like a sculptor while being careful without inflicting anymore pain to her husband.

“Would be nice if you could wear a nurse’s outfit while you treat them.”

“We’re still on the job, darling.” She reminded him, grabbing the heat gel to apply over his injuries and his sore muscles. “When this is all over and we can go back home, I’ll make sure you receive the same kind of care you’ve given me in the past. Yes I’ll wear the silly costume too.” After applying the gel she gave him a quick peck on the lips right as his smirk grew wider. “Lucky me.”

It was great seeing her back in action and back to her usual self before the incident. Krauser was pleased to see the result after months of training her back to her prime self. He helped her get stronger, faster, and possibly deadlier than what R.A.S has done to her, basically perfecting what she was created to be, all done without the abuse spewed in her face, the isolation from human contact, and not straining her to the point of her limbs falling off. He was patient with her, pushing her to the limit unless so, and more importantly, he cared for her wellbeing. Even when she returns to her former self as the cold-hearted hitman and makes sure nothing will happen to her again, he will always watch her back and be her guard.

For Dullahan, it was a long and tiring process to return to where she once was. So much self-doubt, so much fear and anxiety for what Dr. Rowland had done to reprogram her and mould her into a completely different person, she always felt like she’s not herself anymore and she can’t bear the thought of it. But no matter what, Krauser was always there to keep her grounded, to help her back on her feet, and despite the hardship she had gone through while carrying the doubts that she was troubling him, she was forever glad to have him by her side. There are times her mind has slipped off and those nights waking up in cold sweat from nightmares, Krauser was there to pull her out and calm her down.

During her year of recovery, people have wondered what happened to Dullahan if she had gone into hiding, or perhaps she was killed and buried without announcing her death to show their victory in killing a legend. Let her body rot and she becomes a distant memory to haunt them in passing stories. When word spread of Dr. Rowland’s death in the underground world, there was word that she was there and she was the one who killed him. Worse, she ate him. It became a warning for anyone who dared cross her line and become the next ‘Rat’ as the deceased Dr. Rowland was. But alas, no one knew where she went for the whole year after the incident and talks about her had died down after five months.

Until a few months ago there was a sighting of The Horseman back in action.

Krauser ran his hands upwards from her hips to the torso to feel the warmth of her skin. He indirectly pushed up the hem of her turtleneck crop top high enough for his fingers to brush against the divot scar of the bullet wound. The very scar that led her to call him on that fateful day and one of the few scars that her body couldn’t heal or close up. Dullahan placed her hands on his wrists, stopping him from going further and from trying to touch her chest where a scar of the stabbing should be. She was glad there’s no scar to it, not wanting to look at it and be reminded of what Dr. Rowland did.

“That’s enough, Jackie. You’ve done your part for this mission.” She said gently. “You did a good job distracting Dexter while I collected everything I needed to find our next target and destroy the labs underground.” She leaned forward to press a kiss on his forehead, tender and loving. “Rest now while I continue my end.”

She turned to leave but Krauser grabbed her robotic hand. It was a new design but retained the same features such as the claws and the hidden blade in her forearm. It was still black now with a dark blue metallic shade serving as an accent under the plating. Courtesy from her organisation giving her a new limb when she accepted her job back. His hand curled around the wrist and tugged her closer, wedging her between his legs. Her hands cupped his face, carefully thumbing over the bruise on his cheek.

“I’m joining you, Trish.” He said and was met with a weary look. “I won’t do anything this time. I’ll stand back and watch you work.” Her lips were pulled into a thin line and she soon let out a sigh. “Do you need help wearing pants?” “I can do it. Go on, I’ll meet you there. Wouldn’t want to miss any good parts.” His hands cupped her butt and gave them a firm squeeze before she pulled away.

“Honestly you.” She said and he simply chuckled.

In the next room, Dexter was hung from the ceiling by the arms, his feet dangling off from the floor, and he was sporting a larger blackeye than Krauser’s.

As Krauser promised, he stood back by leaning against the wall with his arms crossed against his bare chest. Dullahan took her place and tilted his head up with her left hand to meet his gaze. Dexter’s glazed look switched to fear by the sight of her face and jerked his head back only for her to grab his jaw tighter, and she squeezed his face with her claws out. He whimpered to the pain.

“Come now, darling. I won’t hurt you anymore. Think of it as payback for hurting my partner behind me. When I let go, will you be a good boy?”

He nodded his head.

“I need a verbal answer.”

“Yes…Yes ma’am.” Dexter nearly faltered in his words, almost embarrassed to address his former superior. Despite it, the pain from her claws subdued and she gently patted his cheek. “Good boy.” She went to pick up the fallen chair Dexter kicked down earlier on and looked at Krauser. “Let him down. Gently.” Krauser gave a grunt but he obeyed her.

Robotic and organic hands rested on Dexter’s shoulders as she stood behind him, feeling him stiffened up, and one of them patted his head. “As much as I want to bring up good old memories of our time back at R.A.S, sadly we’re in a time crunch here. I know you defected from Vonner for this new boss of yours, but I can see you’re loyal to this one. Only reason he’s been good to you was what you provided to save your ass.” She slowly twirled her hand in Krauser’s direction and Krauser slowly pulled the rope, pulling the former soldier up. “But then again, what would happen if he knew he’s not the only one you’ve given R.A.S’s information to, non? The research data wasn’t the only thing you stole from Vonner.”

“Detailed reports on experiments he has done post massacre in return for government protection.” Krauser said. “It’s not enough for them so you must be probing for time until your boss is successful with his results. Steal from him too and get the protection you need. Maybe more if you’re the greedy type.”

“I can give them to you instead.” Dexter said. “New reports, his results, everything you can ask for. All I ask if you let me live. I know what’s been happening to the scientists and anyone who survived R.A.S over the years. I heard what happened to Rowland last year and I knew it was you who did it. I can also give you a complete list of the survivors too.” He stopped to breathe when he realised he'd been talking non-stop without taking a breath. Dullahan stopped him from continuing with the squeeze on his shoulders. Five years have hardened him but his fear of the woman never faded away. A squeak was made and Dullahan chuckled softly. Slowly.

“Tempting offer, love.” She said with a soft hum. “But I don’t want any of them as they give me nothing but annoyance. What if, oh what if, if they knew of your treason…” She stopped and hummed again. Krauser was smirking at him to the point of showing his canines. Dexter’s heart was hammering against his ribcage and his voice shuddered.

“What if…?” He had to ask. He tried to look over his shoulder to see her and when he looked up, she was simply smiling at him. No warmth, no coldness, a smile that bears no emotions. As he remembered long ago.

“What if they decided to experiment on you to test their latest result. R.A.S soldiers are a scientist's favourite guinea pig. I saw what Rowland did to Tristan, Roland, and a number of men who followed him to his grave. What would happen if your boss did that to you? Became like me. Like them.”

“No…” Dexter shook his head and Krauser chuckled. “Being a monster isn’t bad. It has some perks, nothing to be ashamed of.” “I don’t want to become a freak like her!” He snapped at the mercenary and it was enough for Krauser to pull away from the wall and march at the bound man. He took the knife out and swung it down hard. Dexter screwed his eyes shut and screamed.

The knife was stabbed between his legs and Dullahan let out a cackle. He wasted no time in wrapping his hand around his former interrogator’s neck and squeezed it. Hard. “Watch your tongue or else I’ll cut it out. Now apologise.”

It was hard to speak with his air cutting off and Krauser’s strong grip preventing him from speaking properly.

“Krauser, that’s enough. The poor man has gone through enough abuse from us by now.” She finally calmed down from her laughing and placed a gloved hand on his shoulder, smoothing it down to his muscled forearm. “I think it’s time he proves his worth to us.” While the grip weakened, the hand still stayed, and Krauser eyed her from the side. “You sure, Dull?” “Of course. Now let him go before he becomes dead weight.”

So he did and Dexter gulped in fresh air for his poor lungs. “Thank you! Thank you! I’ll make sure to prove myself to you. Name anything you need and I’ll do it.” He took in Krauser’s stoic expression who stepped away after pulling his knife out and proceeded to unchain him from his bonds. Dexter couldn’t help but smile at Dullahan, who stepped into his view, awaiting for his mission like the good soldier he was.

She returned the smile back to him and placed a gun on his lap. His gun.

#Jack Krauser #Dullahan #Krauser/Dullahan #Hatter's writing #The Lost Swan #Jack Krauser X OC #Krauser X OC #Resident Evil Krauser

2 notes · View notes

stop-pressing-e · 2 years ago

Text

The Lost Swan - Chapter 23

Prev chapter | New chapter Prologue

/The nightmare is over for them and for me and newer chapters will not take so goddamn long this time. We're almost at the stretching point.

Enjoy reading!/

Denise and Nikki were careful as they transferred Trish from the gurney to her old bed. The sheets had recently been washed and her room cleaned from top to bottom by Denise last week in hopes of hiding her out here should the events change. They had cleaned her and changed her into fresh clothes that belonged to Denise’s. While Trish underwent the surgery, Krauser cleaned himself up in the shower room by the barracks and the only kind of clean clothes he could wear was old R.A.S uniforms, ones that were large enough for him to wear, when he found the locker rooms.

“It’ll take at least a few days for her to recover since her body has overexerted itself after today. The device extraction from her neck was successful too.” Denise explained to Krauser while Nikki tucked the clean comforter over Trish’s body. “Once the wounds close up and her body is stable enough to move, we can transfer her to another location to allow her to rest better. This place…You can understand anyway.”

He tapped his fingers against his forearm. “Before, you said the chances of her recovery will be faster with time and patience. Are those chances still the same or will it be different?” His answer was a heavy sigh. “A probability but, I cannot be sure. Because of his decision to use the device on her, I’m not sure how much damage it had created upon her so the time period is uncertain.” Denise clasped her hands together. “But, you’ve dealt with the circumstances in the past and the only difference was that you’ve done it alone. For her, she has you to be by her side.” She allowed her words to sink in for the mercenary and while he did, she gestured to him to follow her out of the room while Nikki stayed by Trish’s side.

Together they overlooked the abandoned facility that was once a flourishing building for brilliant scientists, trained soldiers, and subjected horrors for their experiments. They’re on the third floor Nikki has told him before and they’re currently in Trish’s wing. Denise led him to the next door and it was a training room. One out of three large mirrors was broken and the broken shards were never cleaned up and were collecting dust and cobwebs.

“I was with her in Spain months before my untimely kidnapping by Alexei. My task was simply observing and collecting while she dealt with the ‘clean up’ but that’s not the reason I’m telling you this. The reason I’m bringing up that place again was because of her choice. Her decision to save you.” She made her way to where the fencing swords were, picked one up, and brushed away the cobwebs it has been collecting over the years. “I knew she had interactions with you in the past before you were discharged from the army and meeting you again at the very location was not what she had expected. More importantly what you have done to yourself. I assisted her in dragging your mutated body back to the boat we found when she witnessed your fight with your former protege, especially when she discovered you were still alive due to whatever was coursing through your veins to delay your inevitable death.” She explained to him while she idly learned the basics with the epee sword. “Despite the knowledge and skills I possess, she was the one to treat your wounds, to ensure you will survive, and more importantly, she stayed by your side to make sure you would wake up eventually before she left.”

Krauser’s mouth parted, almost dumbfounded by the new information behind his survival. “So that’s how…” He only knew she saved him because of the note she left behind, but he didn’t think she had stayed for how many days he had been unconscious until the day he did. He finally took in his whole surrounding, taking in the things Trish has done to train herself. Fencing, gymnastics, martial arts, even ballet based on the mirrors installed. It made him imagine a younger version of her training endlessly in this very room, the strive of perfection for her creator, and presumably picked up dancing to combat the exhausting procedures. He wondered if she danced all alone or was someone allowed to dance with her. “Do you know why she did that?”

“I questioned her reasoning why she chose to do it.” Denise set the sword away and wiped the dust off her hands. “My assumption was because you could serve a purpose for her to use or maybe she’s simply saving you from being someone else’s guinea pig if they know what your body carried. But no, her answer was and I quote ‘I like him. I enjoy his presence despite his former alliance and he proves to be a worthy fighter. Someone I could put my trust in. It’s unfair to leave him to die when he has become an equal to my eye’.” She clasped her hands behind her back loosely as she approached him, staring right into his eyes. “I can finally understand why she gave me that answer three years ago. As for you, your actions alone after her final confrontation with Alexei answers loud and clear. I feel that despite the very number of people such as myself and Nicole as examples she can confine too, you are the one she seeks. Not just as equals, but simply an understanding between monsters. Such a connection.”

There was so much information for Krauser to absorb even as he was led back to Trish’s private room. Denise and Nikki decided to take their leave to clean up any evidence left behind at the Hawthorne building and to allow Krauser to care for Trish until they return. Once they left, he was finally alone with his lover. He sat on the floor and leaned against the bed, craning his head back to examine Trish’s appearance, content to see how peaceful she’s sleeping.

“You’re safe now, angel.” He whispered to her as tears silently ran down his cheeks and kept his voice steady when he spoke, almost afraid she’ll wake up to see him crying. “I’m here and I’ll be here when you wake up soon.” He ran his hand over his face to dry them away and then through his hair. Soon he took in the appearance of her old bedroom. Her living space was a complete contrast to her industrial home. The loft was full of life and contained so many details about her but in here, it was cold and lonely with its grey walls, a worn out, but well loved, red plush chair that had been sat on so many times near a bookcase that lacked a lot of things but a small collection of literature, a violin case, and a record player. A small office table with a small set of art supplies was placed against the only window to overlook the view she has and a small wardrobe.

He reached his arm forward to her, cupping the side of her face, pleased to feel the warmth of her skin against his touch again and ran his hand through her semi-dry hair. “Your informant told me what you did for me back in Spain, when you rescued me off the island. You should have told me that at dinner instead of lying to me, you damn idiot.” His thumb brushed over the carved side grin to be familiar with its depth and damage left behind. “But that’s you. And I love you for being you.”

It was happening again for him. The exhaustion was starting to hit his body like a rollercoaster and his mutation added to his physical strain. Krauser made his way to the empty part of Trish’s bed, pleased that there was enough space for him, and slid under the covers to join her. His left arm slung over her waist, his right tucked under to rest on her shoulder, he buried his face into her hair hoping to smell lavender but he smelled nothing. He kissed her temple as his eyes grew heavy. She was safe at last and he’s happy to have her back in his arms after so long, allowing him peace of seeing her face right before his eyes before he passed out from exhaustion once more.

A few days had become a week. Then it became two weeks and Trish still hasn’t woken up yet. It shouldn’t be impossible for her body to take so long to heal internally, however it could be the strain from being manipulated for so many days and including the rushed procedure to turn her into a blank slate again, forcing her head to repair her shattered mind.

Her body was moved out from R.A.S old facility and transferred to the same safe house Krauser and Nikki had stayed at before they were forced to move out. Denise didn’t follow them back and instead after the third day, she had disappeared, leaving behind a letter for Trish to read. Krauser continued to stay by Trish’s side, daring not to leave the room or take his eyes off her, until Nikki forced him to take care of himself and leave the house once in a while since they don’t know when she’ll wake up. She had him focused on the project since the paperwork has been finalised and construction can begin.

“For god sake I’ll be here with her and at least have the place ready for her when she wakes up.” Nikki kept her mouth from trembling in front of him. “Eventually…Look, I’ll give you updates too.”

He didn’t want to leave her again. If he stepped out of the room and left the safe house, something will bound to happen to her the moment he’s gone. But Nikki was right, neither of them don’t know when Trish will wake up and there was a doctor sent by her organisation, once they heard of her reappearance and condition, to come by and check her status once in a while along with a live-in nurse to tend and care for her if either of them were busy.

“If there’s anything wrong, call me.” He said and she nodded. “Yes sir.” “Good.” He then took a deep breath and patted her shoulder. “Thank you, Nicole. You’ve been a great help and Trish has really trained you well.” It was the first time she heard him address her by her first name along with the high praise that it brought a smile to her face with a blooming heart. “Thank you, Major. For trusting me.” She left him alone to allow him a moment of privacy. Krauser caressed Trish’s cheek and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “I’ll have to leave you alone for now, angel. I don’t know when you’ll wake up but when you do, I have a surprise waiting for you. Something you’ll love.” He took off his dog tags and clasped it around her neck. “I’ll leave this with you to take care of it for me. To remember me. I’ll be back soon, Trish. I love you.”

Days have passed and Krauser hasn’t heard anything from Nikki regarding Trish's status. The results he’s been given were the same. Her vitals remained stable, her brain hasn’t shown any spikes, and blood tests were normal other than lacking nutrients and her weight dropping. A month has passed and soon came a new month with its first week, there Krauser wondered if Trish will ever wake up and he wondered with a heavy heart if this was his next challenge; to wait for her to wake while he returned to being alone again. Anxiety and anger had returned; scared by the what ifs again and angry at the outcome to her comatose.

The second week was coming to an end when Krauser got two missed calls from Nikki after leaving the shower. It soon came to a text message with two words that had him packing what was necessary, text the contractor regarding his leave, and jump into the Jeep he bought recently. It took him two days to drive to the safe house and on the third day on the road he was met with heavy rain and traffic. His phone has been flooding with texts from Nikki during the past couple of days regarding Trish's status and it was a mixture of concerns and uncertainty. Once he was out of traffic and the rain had lightened, dusk was approaching and his phone started to ring. Nikki.

It started off with heavy breathing and distress in her tone. “Trish disappeared.” She said and he nearly stepped on the brakes.

“What?!”

“I-I don’t know! The nurse told me she took her eyes off of her for a moment to answer my call when she let her out to experience the rain and when she looked back, she was gone. Where are you now?”

“Almost there. Twenty minutes, maybe ten minutes if I’m willing to get a few speed tickets for this.”

“God I hope she didn’t wander off too far.” Nikki said and hung up. He hoped so too. That one action would be enough to undo the efforts they’ve done to save her and more importantly if her memories were still scrambled and she doesn’t remember who she is, then she has become a Jane Doe who has disappeared without a trace. Then he remembered about his dog tags he gave her. If someone found her and tried to contact the government based on the information imprinted on it, she'd be in deep trouble.

Krauser was almost to the safe house as the skies grew dark and rain decided to grow heavy again. Something white stuck out from the woods and it caught his eye, making him step on the brakes. It was hard to tell from inside, he forced himself out into the rain and investigated further with his headlights as his light source. The figure in white was coming towards his direction and Krauser squinted his eyes to get a clear view of the person until he heard that familiar nickname spoken out.

“Hi Jackie.” Trish smiled sweetly at him and tilted her head slightly. Her hair was plastered to her face and she did her best to smooth them back with the pouring rain pushing them forward. She was wearing a cream nightgown that stuck to her body along with a wool cardigan he doesn’t recall her owning but the nightgown. She soon tilted her head back to allow the heavy raindrops to fall on her face, pulling the cardigan tighter since she’s one arm short. “The rain was too beautiful to not dance under it. All it was missing was you.”

He stood there frozen, unsure how to react or what to say to her, and instead drank in her appearance and her face. Trish reached her hand out and cupped his wet cheek. “Jackie?” His bottom lip trembled, almost afraid to speak out the important question. She knew his nickname, she was looking at him with love, she was-

“Jackie?”

“How much do you remember me?” He finally said it, grasping her hand. “Do you remember those five years we have together?” His heart was pounding against his ribcage. The smile on the woman he loves never wavered but instead it grew wider. “I remember you. I remember us. I remember everything we’ve done together.” She pulled her hand away to wrap her arm around his neck and Krauser wasted no time in wrapping his large arms around her figure. “But what I’ve forgotten was the feeling of your skin, your touch against mine, the kisses I’ve longed for during my imprisonment physically and mentally. Kiss me please, Jack. I have missed you dearly.”

“Gladly.”

His kiss was intense and hard but full of longing and passion for her and she returned the same feeling when she kissed back. Trish’s hand grabbed a fistful of his wet hair and Krauser held her body tighter, moulding their bodies together again. The lovers reunited at long last.

Nikki took one last peek of Trish asleep and shot one last glare at the nurse before gently closing the door to avoid waking her up. Krauser was shifting through the documents she had brought and set them down when she joined him at the table. “Well?” “Good work on them, Nicole.” He said with a nod of his head. “You have my thanks for these.”

“You’re welcome, Krauser.” While she did give him a small smile she started to gnaw on her bottom lip. “But…I’m a bit worried about her organisation. Once they hear her doing ok, they’ll need her to return back to the field, and there’s still loose ends Rowland left behind and I don’t want anything or anyone to restart the cycle he put her through. Not to mention…” She trailed off for a moment, trying to find the right words to continue. “I’m afraid she’ll relapse. It’s good that her memories are still intact, but I don’t know the chances of the possibility it could happen when she’s on the job. If Vonner learns of Rowland’s death and he decides to take his chance…” She decided to stop there and shook her head. “We can’t let it happen.”

She was right, he thought as he leaned back against his chair, arms folded against his chest. He glanced over his shoulder as if Trish was awake and was eavesdropping on them. Nothing. He turned back to Nikki and glanced at the documents spread out on the table.

“I’ll handle them, Krauser.” Nikki said and his eyes snapped back at her. “You focus on helping Trish recover. We don’t know how much damage it did to her and we can’t take any chances…Plus…I think a break is good for the both of you. Don’t you think so?”

Her suggestion brewed inside Krauser’s head. A break does sound like a good idea. If he works while caring for Trish, it would mean leaving her alone for a period of time, and he doesn’t have anyone, let alone trust anyone other than Nikki, to watch her while he’s away. Trish will need him by her side after what she has done for him in the past. Speaking of which.

“We’ll discuss this tomorrow.” He said before standing up. “Get some rest if we’re going to have a long discussion on the plan.” “Understood, Major. Goodnight Krauser.” “Goodnight Bernhardt.”

Krauser returned back to Trish’s bedroom and relieved the nurse of her duty tonight. As he stripped down to his boxers, he heard the sheets rustled and her voice calling out to him.

“Jack?”

“You should be asleep, dollface.” He said as he joined her side and he was about to switch off the table lamp when she stopped him. “Leave it on. I’ve been in the darkness for too long.” Krauser compiled without a word while Trish got herself comfortable against his body, resting her head on his chest, tangling her legs between his, and slinging her only arm over his torso to hold him. He wrapped an arm around her waist to secure her against him while his other hand interlaced his fingers together with hers, rubbing small circles on the back of her hand. Krauser angled his head to admire Trish’s features bathed in the warm light and he couldn’t help but stroke her face with a finger until it trailed down to hook around the chain necklace that held his dog tags.

“What are you thinking, Jack?” Trish whispered and he stopped what he was doing. “Jackie?” “I’m thinking…” Krauser started and licked his lips. “Of what I want to say to you.” That caught her attention to lift her head up and look at him. Worry etched on her face and he shook his head, easing her trouble away. “What is it?”

“I love you.” He said without a beat while her heart skipped a beat. Krauser has never made that confession before; it has made her sit up in bed to listen to the rest. “I have loved you for as long as I know before you have ever made your confession to me. Never have I expected you would walk into my life and point a sword to my back.” He cupped the back of her neck to bring her close to him making their foreheads touch each other. “And while there are things that can irk me, it doesn’t stop me from loving you regardless. I know now why you rescued me off that wretched island and not only that but you also took care of me while I was unconscious. Now it’s my turn to take care of you for what that bastard did to you and no matter what, I’ll be there to make sure your recovery is a success and your head is still intact.”

After Krauser has made his confession, the room grew silent leaving her to hear her heart drumming in her ears, their shallow breaths, and she almost let out a sob, allowing tears to spill out without warning.

“Say it again, Krauser. Say that you love me.” She whispered and inches her lips towards him, feeling his hot breath against her. “Let me hear those words again.” “I love you.” He repeated it again. “I love you, Dullahan. I love you, Trish. I love you for sure, Natasha.”

He was soon silenced with a kiss, tasting the salty tears along with it until she pulled away. “I love you, Jack. You truly are the best man to put up with all of my shit.” “Good, because I don’t think anyone else can handle the things you’ve done but me.” As he smirked softly it earned him a laugh and a smile on her face.

#Jack Krauser #Dullahan #Krauser/Dullahan #Hatter's writing #The Lost Swan #Jack Krauser X OC #Krauser X OC #Resident Evil Krauser

2 notes · View notes

stop-pressing-e · 2 years ago

Text

The Lost Swan - Chapter 22 (Part 1)

Prev chapter | New chapter Prologue

/Another chapter that took me a while to write while also focusing a different chapter for a fresh palate cleanser lol. I decided to separate this chapter into two parts since it’s gonna be a long one. So have this while I work on the second half of it. We’re nearing the end for them.

Enjoy reading!/

Mentions of: Needles, abuse, torture, antagonist being a manipulative and creepy asshole,

A penlight shone over Krauser’s eyes, watching for a reaction and waiting for a response. Krauser stirred from the lingering effects of the sedative injected into him, unsure how long he had been unconscious from it. When he tried to move, something was holding him down. It took a moment for his vision to clear and get his bearings straight. Voices were distorted, a conversation swapping back and forth until the sound of his groan silenced them. Once his vision had cleared up, the first thing he saw was Dr. Rowland, with clean bandages, staring at him, possibly smiling behind those wrappings.

Krauser took note that he’s in a large laboratory that acts as a surgery room. He looked down briefly to see himself not wearing a shirt, his gear stripped off, and a collar around his neck. He bared his teeth at him, snarling.

“Half an hour.” Dr. Rowland said with the nod of his head. “Impressive how your body can handle things such as a high dosage that was injected into you.” Krauser tried to lunge at him but the straps held him back and he jerked back into his chair. The leather straps dug into his skin when he tried to move and when he tried to break free using his brute strength, Dr. Rowland pressed a button to electrocute the mercenary, practically smiling with morbid glee to watch him scream and twitch in his bonds. “I’m not letting you ruin my little moment here, Mr. Krauser. Definitely not in front of her too.” He threw a side-eye with the cant of his head and Krauser followed his direction to meet her blank gaze.

Standing tall like any soldier he had trained in the past, 392 had her hands tucked behind her back, her shoulders back, and her chest out, her posture too stiff compared to her previous mannerisms in the past until it relaxed. She wore her hair up into a tight bun and with her large bang pulled back to reveal her left eye socket, and she was wearing Sugar Plum’s black jacket, neatly pressed and fully buttoned up with its collars flattened down to reveal the collars of a dark grey shirt with matching pants, and black boots.

Krauser can only stare at the state of the woman with horror written in his eyes and then it flickered to rage when he turned back to Dr. Rowland. Had it not been for the straps or the collar, he was going to twist his head back and watch his body fall like a ragdoll.

“She rejected my love,” Dr. Rowland shrugged nonchalantly at his reactions, brushing off imaginary dust off his shoulders and made his way towards 392. “I stripped away her identity.” Her head turned to his direction and bowed her head towards him, allowing him to cup her jaw and angled her head towards his direction. “The last experiment of that damned project who became the first to survive. Imagine how long it took us to create a proper perfect weapon and you can’t even replicate the same techniques onto the next subject. Not even on a dead body.” He pulled his hand away and threw it across her face. The force of his slap forced her head to spin back in a different angle, making her face the wall across her with a red mark left on her cheek.

The sight of the slap forced Krauser to jerk in his restraints, pulling one of the hinges of the straps and getting himself electrocuted again. The doctor tutted with the wag of his finger. 392 meanwhile twisted her head back into place. “But imagine dealing with this nuisance for fifteen years and her constant turnovers to keep her where she was. It took me over a month to decide that it’s for the best and go back to step one and to stay it that way, with some additions.” His hand gestured towards Krauser and let out a whistle for 392 to obey without a word. She made her way towards the small metal table lined with surgical tools.

There was a sight of five little stitches visible below her ear and fine red bruises surrounding it. It was clearly done recently.

“What did you do to her?” Despite all the rage that's burning deep in his chest, he did his best to maintain his voice as steady as he can.

“Something I’ve been refining since my work’s destruction. Something I hope to do better once I have your blood and tissue cells.” The doctor snapped his fingers towards 392, making her pick up an empty syringe, stabbing it into his arm, and extracting his blood out. “You’re the only living being that contains the dominant version of Las Plagas and basically have total control of this parasite, possessing remarkable powers, with a free will, and what possibly means control of the weaker species. A perfect combination of human genetic alteration with centuries old organisms.” 392 set the needle down and picked up a scalpel and Dr. Rowland smiled behind his bandages. “It’s truly remarkable how much science has advanced but it’s the matter of people adapting to it. After all, take Subject 392, a nuisance I tell you when given feeble amounts so she doesn’t become braindead useless. Now look at her, I’m able to control her however I feel like it with the wave of my hand and I don’t need to tell her what unless so. Look!”

One twirl of his finger and 392 stabbed herself near the shoulder without a question or hesitation. She made no reaction to hurting herself let alone a wince after pulling the knife out. He didn’t move his hand but she proceeded to stab herself again in the forearm this time. Krauser could only claw his nails into the metal surface from witnessing the demonstration.

“Good girl. Be a good soldier and stab your only eye out. I know you won’t need it.”

The weapon obeyed. Krauser was forced to watch her hold her eye wide open while she raised the bloody knife towards her face.

“Dullahan! Put that knife down now!” He yelled at her, trying to see if his own orders could alter the command. “That is an order!” The knife was nearing her eye, never moving as the sharp tip grew closer. “Dullahan! Put the knife down!” “No, no, don’t listen to him.” Dr. Rowland practically had a morbid glee in his tone. “This will give me a chance to push that body to the limit rather than requiring muscle memory reliance when she’s blind.” He was serious about it and Krauser needed to stop it. He noticed during his struggle that his feet were not strapped down compared to his torso and his arms. Krauser wasted no time in angling his body to his best towards the side and kicked the little trolley towards her with full force, causing her to fall back and dropping the knife in the process.

This led Dr. Rowland cursed in his native language, swinging his arm in the process. 392 got back up on unsteady movements whether she was still under his control or not from his mad waving, clutching her head in the process. “Must you also be insolent! Soldiers nowadays have no clear respect!”

“Dullahan, listen to me. Get this damn collar off of me and free me.” He needed the collar off first so he wouldn't get electrocuted first. While the doctor is too busy throwing a tantrum to himself, Krauser continues to tug on his straps to break free. There will be a chance he will need to mutate if brute force alone cannot help him escape from them.

“You do not control her!” The doctor snapped at him. “Soon I’ll put you through the same trials as she did and soon I’ll have two weapons under my command.” He soon calmed himself down and brought a finger to where his lips are, tapping it repeatedly at a jittery speed. “If you behave better than her, you’ll become my right hand and I can allow you to have control of her too.” The finger wagged in Krauser’s direction, almost mocking him. “You have carnal desires, I know of it. Don’t deny it since you’ve seen the files you’ve stolen off from Benno. Don’t worry, I won’t mind as long as she’s still standing and you do your job right.”

Finally Dr. Rowland has ceased his talking, having strained the wounds on his face from his excessive rambling, and despite Krauser’s boiling anger and disgust towards him, he proved to be an annoying person to deal with if not dangerous. He’s still pulling the strings and trying to piss him off with all the information he had on hand and the taunts about his feelings towards Dullahan. He threw a look to check on her, noticing the finer details on her face. Other than the lack of emotions, there were also the dark circles under her eyes, her face pale, her lips chapped, and if he looked closely her eye was dilated and twitching. Her body language was still stiff and awkward like a robot in need of oil to move smoothly but he can see faint trembles on her right hand that is stained with blood after stabbing herself.

This is the result of what that mad man has done to his lover. He thought about the promise she told him if she went on this path. Was this it? Was he really going to give in and comply to end her suffering once and for all and then kill the man who did it? Who caused all of this for his own sick gain and his own revenge against R.A.S too?

That had him snapped. The power of the plaga was kicking in.

“392, prepare the machine.” Dr. Rowland said when he set the remote down and picked up the needle containing the paralysing agent. “The sooner the better we will have him under my command and I will make sure he will put you into place correctly for good.”

Krauser let out a guttural scream as the transformation happened, transforming his arms into large grotesque mutations and breaking free of his bonds. All hell broke loose and he was seeking blood. Dr. Rowland attempted to stab the needle into his chest but Krauser was faster, thrusting his bladed arm forward to destroy the agent and throwing his large clawed hand on the table, destroying the steel furniture and the contents on them such as the remote control deeming the shock collar useless.

“I will not let you hurt her anymore!” He screamed at the doctor and threw his grotesque hand to grab his head but Dr. Rowland ducked. 392 sprung into action to protect her employer, starting by throwing a flashbang she took from his gear blinding and deafening both Krauser and Dr. Rowland. With Krauser stunned, she picked up the fallen surgical table and swung it at him with full strength to force him down and further disorient him, allowing her chance to grab the other disoriented man to escape out of the surgery room. Right by the door she punched the emergency button, alerting every soldier and unlocking any locked doors in the underground facility.

In the safety of Dr. Rowland’s office, 392 received a harsh slap across her face. “Don’t you ever do that again when I’m in a line of danger! Insolent bitch.” He went over to the monitors to check the cameras and pressed the intercom. “I need all personnels to the second floor and deal with Jack Krauser. Do not kill him! I repeat, do not kill him. I need him alive!” One of the monitors caught his attention and he was this close to screaming. “You, I have a different task for you to deal with first should these incompetent soldiers cannot do their job right with him.” A large heavy sigh was made while he ran his hand over his bandaged face. “Such a menial thing will become a hassle in the near future. No matter. I need you to deal with the traitors and stop them from ruining anymore of my work. Kill them. I don’t need her anymore and I certainly don’t want the other one.”

392 bowed at him. “I have something you can use against them. One of the orderlies found something from Mr. Krauser’s bag that I think it’s perfect for you to use.” He pulled out two staffs of different lengths with one of them showing to be a sword hilt but no bladed weapons on them. Upon picking them up, a sword and an axe blade came to life, forming its desired shape and hardened. The weapons held snug in her grasp and she caught a name engraved on the sword guard. It was the same name Krauser called her but nothing rings a bell but reading it, it feels like it means something more than a name. “And you should wear this.” He brought out a blue jacket that looked oddly similar to the black jacket she’s wearing but the state of it was ruined by tears and old dried blood. The logo and the name imprinted on the right breast caught her attention.

R.A.S. The name she was familiar with.

“I took the liberty of removing that stupid black patch. It looks perfect on you with its current state.” He watched the weapon remove the black jacket and put on the black jacket leaving it unbuttoned since it’s missing two of the buttons out of four. “Now go. Show me your full potential.”

For once the blank expression she has borne on her face has twisted into a wicked grin and filled her eye with malice, and when she opened her mouth, she let out a loud wicked laugh.

To be continued...

#Jack Krauser #Dullahan #Krauser/Dullahan #Hatter's writing #The Lost Swan #Jack Krauser X OC #Krauser X OC #Resident Evil Krauser

2 notes · View notes

stop-pressing-e · 2 years ago

Text

The Lost Swan - Chapter 21

Prev chapter | New chapter Prologue

/Finally finished writing this chapter. This took me a while and fight scenes can be such a bane to me but glad I can write Krauser getting some proper fight action.

Enjoy reading!/

Mentions of: Blood, killing (duh), needles at the end

Hawthorne Trinity was something Krauser had expected when he came upon the iron gates. A derelict mental asylum by its exterior appearance and all but on the inside it could have been modernised to meet with the technology standards. Or maybe everything he’s seeing from an outside perspective was entirely abandoned to hide the fact that there’s a large facility built deep below the building itself.

Nikki has done her job in finding the blueprints and layout to the building for him and it was as expected. She was originally going to head for R.A.S abandoned facility to find the rumoured caravan but instead Krauser ordered her to follow him and focus on destroying the inner circle and Dr. Rowland’s works for good.

The informant watched him pull the padlock off with inhuman strength and kicked the gates open with awe. Krauser meanwhile was impressed by her choice of gear. She wore her old R.A.S uniform complete with an armoured vest and the visored helmet and armed herself with the standard shotgun, two handguns, and a combat knife. She was provided with grenades by Krauser for safety measures consisting of flash grenades and regular grenades.

“I’ll go in first.” Krauser said as Nikki proceeded to lockpick the doors while he checked his magazine of his submachine gun once more and inserted it back in. “Find another way inside to avoid any detection and by fifteen minutes you get yourself inside the facility, unless you hear gunfire. You remember where the other entrance is?”

“Centre courtyard. Secret elevator underneath the gazebo. Better make sure it doesn’t require any puzzles or special key to call it up.” She stood up and pushed the door open.

“Good work, Bernhardt.”

“Call me Banshee.” She tucked the lockpicks away. “Dull gave me that codename when I started working for her.” Had it not been for the visor obstructing her face, Krauser would see the mischievous grin on her face. “You’ll understand why eventually.” She stepped away from the door and gave him a salute. It wasn’t unlike her to mock him for all of the sudden, creating a genuine gesture from her and it surprised him. “Good luck, Major.”

He nodded his head once. “Stay sharp, Banshee.” As soon as he entered inside the decrepit building, Nikki closed the door behind him and waited for her time to come. Under the illusion of an abandoned place, the air wasn’t stale and boards that were once hammered to the windows were taken down to allow light and air in. The surroundings and each place he has entered has been cleaned and free of obstacles, but they left the walls to decay and the wallpapers to peel away. Broken floor tiles that were not swept away made the slightest noise whenever his feet hit them. The secret entrance he’s searching for is located at the operating theatre at the end of the building.

A static from a speaker came to life.

“Welcome to Hawthorne Trinity, Jack Krauser.” The voice of a welcoming but grating man he guessed as Alexei Rowland greeted Krauser, almost reminding him of Salazar and he was the annoying type when he was Saddler’s follower. “I’ve been waiting for your arrival.” Krauser continued to make his way towards the theatre in silence to keep his calm and focus on the thought of Dullahan waiting for him.

“Of course, you’re not here to meet me.” Dr. Rowland’s voice continued to speak. “You’re here for her.” He could hear the venom in the other man’s voice without saying Dullahan’s name. “What’s the point of saving her, Mr. Krauser? She’s an ungrateful kind, using men’s love for her own gain and then proceeds to break their hearts when they’ve done their job. Once you save her, do you know what she’ll do to you? She’ll make sure you’re left for dead here among the dead you’ll soon kill in this place.” Krauser continued to ignore the man’s talking as he finally reached the theatre and there was no one inside to stop him. No matter, he always kept his guard up as he proceeded to find the secret entranceway.

The theatre consisted of the operating table in the centre, a dreadful thought in the mercenary’s head if Dullahan was tortured on this very table and if there were people who watched it happen. No signs of blood and the table was cleaned free of dust. Columns of seatings took up most of the space and there were no other doors but the entrance he came from. The designs in the room were symmetrical and too large if they were going to entertain a large number of people over the course of years.

Unless…

The operating table was spotless when Krauser inspected it at first. In fact, the design of the table doesn’t match the interior designs of the room. That would explain why the table was quite clean. He ran his fingers underneath the table, to conclude his curiosity, until he felt bumps and knew exactly what he was looking for. He pressed the button and soon he heard groaning coming from the seatings. They were pulled away right before his eyes, the floor beneath the columns also disappearing, replaced with stairs appearing from below, making its way towards a large iron gate.

“Major Krauser.” Nikki’s voice cackled from his walkie-talkie. “Major, this is Banshee. I’ve found the gazebo and bad news on my end, I need to find something. Whatever it is, it's not destroyed based on what I’m looking at, but I need to find it.”

“Copy that, Banshee. I’ve found mine and I’m going in. Going radio silent.” He turned off his comms, took a deep breath, exhaled, descended down the stairs, and opened the iron gates. Lights were switched on automatically, revealing a long hallway towards an elevator at the end. The voice of the obnoxious Dr. Rowland returned when Krauser entered the elevator and pushed the only button available: down.

“I know what you did back at Valdelobos and I don’t think anyone knows what you have. What you possessed. I’ve lost two of my good men but with you working for me, maybe-” Dr. Rowland never got to finish his sentence when Krauser decided to fire at the speaker to shut him up for good and shoot at the little camera he spotted in the corner. He was almost at the desired floor and he needed to be ready for the welcoming party.

Soldiers in black stood in the hallway, their guns aimed at the door, waiting for Krauser to step out and empty their weapons on him by Dr. Rowland’s orders. The light indicating how many floors left has reached the end and the door slowly opened. No time was wasted for the soldiers to immediately open fire at the elevator until their magazines were empty. Half of them proceeded to reload while the other half processed the result they'd created, noticing there’s no blood splatters inside the elevator but bullet holes and more importantly there’s nobody inside at all.

A single flash grenade was thrown from above towards their feet and none reacted as fast as they could when the grenade was set off, blinding and deafening the soldiers. Krauser jumped down from the elevator shaft and began his own killing by slashing their throats with his knife and his inhuman speed. Their blood splashed against the wall and spilled on the floor when they fell down. He dipped his fingers into the pooling blood and smeared it across his face, mimicking the same pattern he painted on his face years ago.

This was a war against the doctor.

More soldiers were coming. He got his SMG out, emptying his whole magazine into as many as he can, and soon resorted to saving his ammo and going close combat on them. Krauser threw an uppercut at the soldier, then grabbed his arm that held the gun and twisted it hard to force him to drop it. He turned the soldier around, pinning the arm behind the back, and used the man as a human shield, eventually throwing the dead body towards the rest to stagger their movements and throw down punches and kicks hard enough to kill them.

The numbers of soldiers were dwindling with the numbers of bodies Krauser was leaving behind were increasing.

The floor where the laboratories are a couple of floors down. There were no elevators but stairs and Krauser wasn’t complaining about it so long it’s not blocked by more soldiers or the path destroyed which could delay his reach towards Dullahan.

On the second floor before he could reach the desired floor, he was greeted by the sight of three people standing in his view. A man was wearing a lab coat over his shoulders, part of his face bandaged, and his left arm in an arm sling. Two soldiers with visor-like helmets to obscure their faces, and the designs were quite too familiar for him to recognise that the only thing it lacked was the wicked grin on it, stood behind the doctor, hands tucked behind their backs. Krauser instantly sneered, knowing who this man was at first glance.

Dr. Rowland bowed towards him.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you in the flesh, Mr. Krauser. Did you enjoy your warm up upstairs? It was all the men I could offer since Hawthorne Trinity is experiencing staff shortage here. It’s not easy finding the best to work for me, and with you-”

“Shut the hell up.” He interrupted Dr. Rowland’s speech once more and pulled out Dullahan’s gun to fire a few shots at him. Both guards behind the doctor brought one hand out each in front of him to shield him, deflecting the bullets back towards Krauser who dodged them easily. Dr. Rowland can only sighed to himself while his guards pulled their hands away, returning back behind their backs. “Are you always this impatient? Surely you weren’t one during your glory days. You wanted results but you forced patience onto your troops. I’ll need those results when I have you by my side.”

The SMG was replaced with his knife. He could have mutated and ended it instantly, but he rather made his death as agonising as possible. He made that promise to himself, for Dullahan.

Dr. Rowland’s mouth shifted behind the bandages, frowning. “It’s too late, Mr. Krauser. She’s long gone. Give it up now and take over her spot. Or take either one of them here. Last one standing and you can take them away as a replacement and never come back here again.” He raised his good hand and gestured it towards Krauser. The two guards left their position and made a mad dash towards the mercenary with knives in their hands. Every attack they threw at Krauser was also too familiar. The first guard was performing Dullahan’s fighting style and the second guard was performing his own fighting style.

One of them swiped their knife under Krauser’s arm that held his knife, trying to force him to drop it. He let out a wince but didn’t drop it, bringing his knee up to their ribcage hard, hearing that satisfying crunch, and stabbed his knife into the throat, dragging it down to their chest. He pulled it out and stabbed them twice in the heart. The body is used as a shield from the final guard who was throwing slashes at him as if they were fighting him with a sword, an odd choice to try and fight him with a knife but an advantage for him if he’s dealing with someone using Dullahan’s moves. He has seen how she fought and he knew each of her moves by heart and training. The guard threw another slash at him again, this time he grabbed their wrist, twisting it and pushing the hand towards them, stabbing themselves underneath their chin, breaking through the visor. Krauser pushed the knife deeper while at the same time stabbing his knife through the heart for extra measure.

Dr. Rowland meanwhile remained where he stood during the whole fight, deeply frustrated. The amount of facial muscles he’s using caused the stitches to strain and blood to bloom on the bandages.

“Pathetic waste of subjects. They can’t even fight right.”

“No more games.” He flicked both wrists to get the blood off both of the knives. “No more bargains. Take me to Dullahan or die right now.” He marched towards the doctor, looming over him with anger and determination burning in his blue eyes. Dr. Rowland simply blinked his good eye at him, unphased or annoyed to be treated by his attitude despite the threat of death inches away from him.

“She’s never Dullahan.” Dr. Rowland said, watching Krauser’s reaction. “She’s never Natasha.” His eye glanced past him. “She’s always been Subject No. 392. Isn’t that right, 392?”

A sharp needle stabbed Krauser right between the shoulder blades, injected the liquid, and harshly pulled it out. A roar escaped his mouth and he spun around to slash at the person who stabbed him. The dead soldier’s knife was restrained in her right hand, unphased by the pain and her blood dripped onto the floor, and his knife was blocked by her robotic arm. The face of his lover stared back at him with a blank look. Her eye glazed over and half lidded.

“Dullahan…It’s me…Krauser…” Those were Krauser’s last words right as the sedative kicked in and knocked him out cold, falling at her feet and dropping the knives at the same time. None of what he said to her had any effect on her. All she does is stare at the unconscious body, look at Dr. Rowland, and then kneel down onto one knee for him, bowing her head.

#Jack Krauser #Dullahan #Krauser/Dullahan #Hatter's writing #The Lost Swan #Jack Krauser X OC #Krauser X OC #Resident Evil Krauser

2 notes · View notes

stop-pressing-e · 2 years ago

Text

The Lost Swan - Chapter 10

Prev chapter | New chapter Prologue

/Sometimes the recovery stages can has it set backs or a breaking point for the both of them.

Enjoy reading!/

Mention of: Harassment and someone being threatened

They just got back home and the first thing Natasha did was slap Krauser across the face. It was sudden for both of them. Krauser was surprised and Natasha was in shock by her action. It was a stinging pain on his cheek, nearly ringing in his ear. It was nothing to get angry about since a slap is nothing extreme. Krauser kept his calm and stood still while Natasha was making faces and her fingers twitching as she tried to figure out how to make sense in her current state of surprise and then a burst of anger.

“What the bloody hell were you thinking, Krauser?” She was yelling at him. “I could have handled it. You could have let me do it on my own.”

They were at a bar to enjoy a night out and because Natasha was getting tired of being in the house all the time and wanted a bit of excitement. She still cannot return to her hitman job or pick up a civilian job to pass the time and Krauser hasn’t been taking any mercenary jobs in order to continue caring for her. There were signs of improvement from her but he was still not taking any chances in case of any setbacks with her mind or her having one of her panic attacks. He had to admit, it was a tiring job but anything to keep her safe and he needed a change of fresh air to enjoy his time too.

Natasha got a chance to interact with other people from town, mainly with a group of women who were on a trip where she ended up on stage singing karaoke with them and joining them on the dancefloor. Krauser has gotten to keep his thoughts quiet over a couple pints of beer and a game of darts by himself, occasionally checking on Natasha. He can see the joy radiating on her face that has made his heart skip a beat to see how happy she’s experiencing. Maybe it was time to reduce his caretaking duty and slowly allow her a bit of freedom and some independence when he goes back to taking up contracts again soon. She’s a big girl, he told himself. She can handle things on her own.

“Mind if I ask a dance from you, cutie?”

“I’m sorry but I’m not interested.” Krauser turned to the sound of Natasha’s voice and saw a man wearing a vinyl jacket was hitting on her and had his hand cupping her chin so she could look at him. While Natasha looked uninterested, he can see her body language being uncomfortable by the lack of space closed between them. She caught Krauser looking at them, making her raise a hand to stop him from interfering. The man turned to who she was looking at and smirked.

“Your boyfriend, I’m guessing? I hope he doesn’t mind if I could borrow you for one dance only. One dance, that’s it.”

“And as I said, I am not interested. Back off or else I’ll make you kiss the floor.” She took a few steps back to get away from him but he pulled her back by the waist. “I’m counting to three to get your hands off me or else-”

“What? Slap me?” One of his hands snaked down and squeezed her ass. “I like to see you try.”

“Not her.” Krauser stood behind him, hand on the other man’s shoulder, looming over the shorter man. “Me.” He yanked the man away from Natasha with one strong tug, slamming him against the bar counter, knocking the wind out of his lungs, and pressed his knife against his neck. The length of Krauser’s knife and how sharp it was drained the colour away from his face.

“W-Whoa, calm down man.”

“Now you’re afraid for your life?” Krauser hissed. “Pathetic waste of air. You should have listened to her when you got the chance and not be in this position. Now, apologise to my wife. Properly.”

“Darling, take your knife away from him, now.” Natasha said firmly to Krauser. “He’s gonna die of a heart attack before he could utter a word.” She leaned closely to his ear. “We have people watching too. Put it away now.” She pulled away and smiled at the people who were watching them. “Sorry folks. It won’t happen again, I promise. Let it be a lesson if someone like him doesn’t listen.”

Krauser pulled his knife away and sheathed it back into his holster hidden underneath his shirt. “Apologise. Now.”

“I-I’m sorry, miss.” The man in the vinyl jacket stuttered. “I won’t trouble you again.”

“Now get out of here.” So the man did. Krauser fished out his wallet from his pants pocket, produced a crisp hundred dollar bill, and gave it to the bartender to pay for their drinks and to keep them silent about what happened and allow them back in for next time. The drive back home was silent with Krauser keeping his eyes on the road and Natasha having so many thoughts stewing in her head.

“Answer me, Krauser.” Natasha said, hands on her hips and almost gritting her teeth. She never grits her teeth unless she is this angry. “I was this close to headbutting that man in the nose and watching him squirm in pain. But no, you had to interfere and that could have nearly gotten us kicked out, or worse banned, from that place.”

Once she was finally done talking, Krauser took a small deep breath and exhaled. “He needed a hard lesson with an actual threat.”

“I have a knife in my boot! You gave me this knife for my protection!” Natasha pressed her palms together and brought it to her mouth to process her next line of thoughts. “Darling, you need to stop doing this. Being overprotective I mean. It was fine at first because I was recovering but as of lately, I’m starting to feel suffocated by it. I can’t even go outside to have a little walk by myself.”

“I’m not letting that-”

“Do not say his name in this house.” She stopped him. “He doesn’t know where we are. No one knows where we are.” Her hands were starting to shake again. “You need to stop, Krauser. I’m not a fragile doll anymore.”

“Natasha, you-”

“What?” She was yelling again. “Tell me to trust you? I am trusting you. I’ve basically put my full trust into your hands from the moment you told me you’ll take care of me when I woke up. Where’s your trust in me? Why can’t you trust me anymore?”

“Because I can’t lose you again!” He snapped back at her. “I dreaded those days when I was in bed alone, wondering if you could make it and retain your memories of me! Of us! The thought of that man who put his hands on you will do something worse than kissing you!” He grabbed her arms and shook her. “When you made me promise to kill you if you went down that path again and I didn’t do it because killing you will be basically killing me!”

The woman stared at him with shock, her lips parted with her bottom lip quivering. “You’re…You’re hurting me, Jack…” She could feel her arms getting cold from the blood restriction Krauser is accidentally doing when he grabbed her. Krauser pulled his hands away and saw the marks he left behind on her.

“Shit, dollface, I’m-”

“I’m going out for a walk.” Natasha halted him from apologising. “I need to clear my head. No, don’t follow me please.” She quickly added, knowing he would join her without a beat. “You need to clear your head too. Actually, you need your own alone time. Trust me for once like before, Jack. Please.”

He really wanted to protest against her going out alone, especially when they just came back home from the bar and she had a few drinks. Then again, he had a few pints and he was the one who drove them home under the influence. Shit, he could have gotten them hurt if he wasn’t careful.

“One hour.” He said, raising a finger at her. “Then you come straight back home.”

“I will.” She said and made her way to the door. “One hour.” Without looking back or saying ‘I love you’ to him, she left the house and took her walk. Krauser, without a second thought if she was far away or not to hear him, punched a hole into the wall and let out a scream. He had fucked it up. That one moment where he could have allowed Natasha to fight her own fights and he stepped in like her usual knight in a tactical vest and brandished his large knife at her harasser. It’s been five months but it felt like years after the event.

Krauser took a look at himself in the mirror by the front door. It was tempting to break the mirror and cut his own knuckles by the shards while at the same time thinking of her sadness and disappointment because she liked the design of the mirror. More importantly, she’ll be afraid of him if he allows his emotions to get out of control. What would happen if he hurts her again as he did moments ago? Maybe she is right, he does need some alone time for himself and clear his head.

He spent the whole hour sweating and building up his muscles again. Fifteen minutes each has been spent on archery practice, knife training, and working out his upper body and his legs. By the time he was done, he noticed that it was raining when he got back inside. Heavily, he noted before looking at the clock.

One hour is up and by now Natasha should be back from her walk if she kept track of time. Then again, if it had been raining the whole time she’d been out, she would have come home earlier on while he was working out. Something is not right.

The old familiar fear was kicking in again. It couldn’t be. It shouldn’t be happening. Not again. Natasha has said no one knows where they are living currently, not even Nikki or her organisation. But what if…?

His phone started ringing. They've changed numbers and they have very little contact with other people but a few shops that offer home delivery. As he looked at the caller ID, his shoulders relaxed and his heart was slowly returning to its normal pace. It was Natasha.

“Jackie…Can you pick me up, please?” Her voice was too soft to hear over the sound of heavy rain in the background and on the line. It also sounded like she had been crying from the soft shudders she made and when she was trying to compose herself. “I can’t get home because of the rain. I’m at a bus stop taking shelter.”

“I’m on my way, angel.” He said, swearing he heard her speaking to someone before she ended the call. Krauser brought towels, an umbrella, and a bit of spare clothes for her, grabbed his keys from the hook, and jumped into his Jeep. Natasha mentioned the bus stop and other than the one in town, which was deemed too far to get there by foot, he knew where she was.

Natasha was found shivering at the old bus stop with a few of the windows gone or broken, allowing the heavy raindrops to splash inside, the old bus sign broken and laying on the wet ground, and old graffitied chairs. The sight of her appearance shocked Krauser as soon as he stepped out with the umbrella. It looked like she had fallen in a muddy ground, the hems of her pants ripped, her arms covered in scratches and blood, part of her hair was crudely cut, probably by a knife, and she was hugging her jacket against her chest rather than wearing it. Upon closer look, her eye was red, her wet hair plastered to her face, and she looked relieved to see Krauser.

“I’m sorry…” She started it off as he started to examine her appearance while she held back a sob. The marks on her arms were still visible, internally scolding himself, as he was careful when running his fingers against her skin. “I’m sorry for slapping you. I’m sorry for getting angry with you. I just-” She was cut off by his large form hugging her, not caring if the mud and rain ruined his clothes. He was warm, gentle, smelled of sweat, and relieved to have her safe. She almost shed more tears when he asked her, “Are you okay?”

Natasha decided to show Krauser why she wasn’t wearing her jacket. Bundled up inside was a kitten no more than eight months old. They have the prettiest blue and brown eyes, the cutest pink nose in contrast to their off white dirty fur and scrawny appearance. “Would you say I was stupid for cutting a chunk of my hair out of frustration and then deciding to chase after this cute little fellow into the woods when it started to rain? I tried to find her mother too and eventually I slipped and fell into a ditch with her. I had to save the kitten and the phone in my jacket first before I could climb up. It was so slippery but I did it.” She waited for him to say something, anything, after she was done talking. Instead, she got a kiss on her dirty forehead.

“I’m just glad you’re okay.” Krauser told her, sighing softly. “I’m sorry too.” It was a rarity to hear him apologise and often he was not good with words, but after today, her heart was beating faster. “I should have trusted you back at the bar. I was afraid, after what happened, anything could happen without warning, such as this.” He rubbed his palm against her cheek to clean off the mud since the towels are still in the car. “Do you remember what I said in that room? That room.”

“Loud and clear.” She nodded her head. “It’ll forever be ingrained in my memory and I shall not forget those words. Krauser, I think we should really discuss the matters of our trust and allow me to handle myself again.”

“Soon sweetheart. Right now, let’s get you home and clean up. You’ll catch a cold from being out here long enough.” He glanced at the kitten. “She can stay for the night.”

“I think Iris will be a lovely addition to the house.” She countered back as they walked back to the Jeep, cooing softly at her. “She’ll make a lovely companion for me when you’re out.” “I’ll say a dog is better.” He said when he opened the passenger door for her, setting a towel on the chair before she entered. “He’ll guard the house and you when I’m away.” “Aren't the traps enough, darling?”

“Nope. Trust me.”

“You know I do.”

#Jack Krauser #Dullahan #Krauser/Dullahan #Hatter's writing #The Lost Swan #Jack Krauser X OC #Krauser X OC #Resident Evil Krauser

2 notes · View notes

stop-pressing-e · 2 years ago

Text

The Lost Swan - Chapter 6

Prev chapter | Next chapter Prologue

/Have a moment of fluff and normalcy before we return to angst and shitfest going on.

Enjoy reading!/

Natasha looked up from her sketchbook to admire the house in the middle of progress. It was starting to look exactly how she imagined and from the sketches she made to make the idea come to life. Money hasn’t been a problem in order to achieve the dream home they wanted and soon the money will be used to buy the things they need inside the house. She looked back down to her sketch of the living room layout, pondering what else to add. They’ve got the couch and their favorite armchairs and it’ll surely be placed in front of the fireplace with the tv on top of it. Bookcases are gonna be part of the wall by the fireplace and besides the couch to their left as the right is the french doors leading to the garden where she is now, sitting under a large tree to shade her from the sun. She was wearing a hat too.

The garden is currently barren for the time being and when the time comes, she’s thinking of planting a few rows with flowers and the rest with vegetables and or fruits she doesn’t know which to start with. Herbs were needed clearly.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” A voice, soft and polite with a hint of a Southern accent, spoke to her, making her raise her head and smile at one of the construction workers who approached her. A young man who looked to be in his college years and certainly in the process of gaining muscles on his body. He was holding a large water bottle in his hand and held it out to her. “It’s a hot day and I thought you would like to have some too.” “How kind of you, Jesse was it?” “Yes ma’am.” Jesse nodded his head.

“Well thank you, Jesse.” She took the bottle from him and took three long sips from it and returned it back to him. “Is the contract faring well with you? I know he’s putting you and your friends there on such a deadline to get the house done.” “It’s alright, ma’am.” He shook his head with a small smile. “The money is good so we can’t complain about it. It’ll be a beautiful place for sure when we’re all done in two weeks time. One week if there’s no delays.”

“I’m glad to hear the good news.” Natasha glanced at the house in progress, more importantly at a particular man sitting on top of the roof arranging the tiles in perfect order. He wasn’t wearing a shirt so she could see all of his muscles bathed in the sunlight like an angel. “After this, what will you be doing? I’m assuming you’re still in college?”

“I’m studying chemistry and if I may, ma’am. May I take a look at your arm?” He asked, gesturing to her wooden arm. She canted her head to the side upon the question but silently raised her arm for him. She watched Jesse inspect her limb with great interest and saw how careful he was when he ran his hands over the material and when he flipped both sides to inspect the details up close. “If you don’t mind me, ma’am, I learned wood making when I was a little boy and I can make quite a lot of things. Would you like it if I make you a new arm? It looks like it has gone through a lot and I know a nice kind of wood that will be perfect for you. Free of charge.”

“Private!” Krauser’s booming voice accidentally made Jesse drop Natasha’s arm and automatically saluted him. “Sir!””

“I hope you’re not abusing your break time to flirt with her.” He crossed his arms against his sweaty chest that Natasha can clearly see it glistering, almost salivating from the sight of his muscular body up close. “Not to mention, your break has been over five minutes ago. Time is precious here.”

“I’m sorry, sir! Won’t happen again!” Jesse said and Krauser jerked his thumb back where he silently obeyed and returned to his job.

Natasha can only let out a small laugh, making Krauser’s heart flutter inside to hear the joy from her. “Jackie, don’t be hard on him. He’s been doing a good job with the rest so far. He also offered to make me a new arm.” Krauser knelt on one knee and took her wooden hand to inspect the dents and scratches she had obtained over the years she’ve worn it. “We can get you a better arm than wood.” “Nothing heavy or easy to break please, darling.” She said, putting her other hand over his. “What if I have to punch someone in the face? Besides, I’m sure Jesse doesn’t mind a bit more pay if you allow him.” “I’ll think about it.” He said, earning a kiss on his knuckles from her, tasting the salty sweat of his hard work, and placing his hand against her cheek. He can feel her real hand shaking slightly.

“I think it’s time you head inside and rest, sweetheart.” He told her softly, taking in the amount of pillows he tucked underneath her in order for her to be comfortable when sitting for a long period. More importantly, he was admiring her in the green sundress he laid out for her to wear on a hot sunny day. He even got her a green silk choker to match with the outfit. “We’ll be done in a couple more hours.”

Natasha shook her head. “I don’t wanna, love. I want to stay out here and watch you work.”

“There’s always tomorrow.” He assured her. “Tomorrow we’ll focus on your art studio. Just as you wanted.” “With a nice shade of green grey walls to be painted, a storage area for my canvases, and a nice cute table to do my drawings?” Krauser rose up a bit to kiss her forehead. “For my favourite artist.”

She can feel her heart soaring in her chest as her face was flushed with love. “Alright, Jack. I’ll go inside and rest. Carry me please?” Krauser didn’t hesitate to scoop her into his arms, taking in her warmth from sitting in the sun, inhaling her scent, the feeling of cotton fabric that clung to his skin, and carrying her back inside their home and towards their bedroom upstairs.

#Jack Krauser #Dullahan #Krauser/Dullahan #The Lost Swan #Hatter's writing #Jack Krauser X OC #Krauser X OC #Resident Evil Krauser

2 notes · View notes

stop-pressing-e · 2 years ago

Text

The Lost Swan - Chapter 5

Prev chapter | Next chapter Prologue

/Time for Dullahan to meet someone from her past. Will Krauser still save her on time? Who knows.

Enjoy reading!/

“Wake up.” A static voice cackled from the intercom, calling for Trish from her deep slumber. A groan escaped her lips. “Wake up, Dullahan.” Her vision was blurry as she opened her eye. A harsh white light was shining down on her and she raised her arm to shield herself from it, slowly sitting up from the stiff mattress she’s on. Her body was sore from lying on it and her head was killing her too.

“Or should I say Subject No. 392?”

Her head swiveled to where the intercom could be and she let out a sharp cry from getting off the bed to the point of nearly stumbling onto the floor. Her body felt so stiff and in pain she didn’t realise she was missing her robotic arm. Her outfit has been entirely replaced with a starchy white hospital outfit that resembled a straitjacket.

“Who is this?” She called out to the voice. It was hard to tell whose voice it was due to the static. Very few people had addressed her with that number in the past. She ran her hand through her hair to find the bump that knocked her out. It was small but it still hurt. How long has she been out? Has Krauser managed to get in contact with Nikki? Where was she more importantly? She doesn’t recognise the room itself.

The door buzzed open and two orderlies dressed in white stepped inside with a wheelchair. Trish backed away from them and they walked towards her. “Stay the bloody hell away from me!” As one took a step forward, she kicked him in the crotch and then elbowed the second orderly in the nose, ignoring the screaming pain in her body and booked it out of the room. The dark seafoam green hallway was a massive contrast to the stark white room and it looked endless and long, but she didn’t care, either way had to lead out of this area.

She went left.

More orderlies in white and some in black uniform tried to catch her but she managed to dodge and escaped from their grasping hands and swinging batons. When she tried to separate her torso as she made a jump to get between a bed pushed in her path, she only stumbled to the floor and clumsily forced herself up after kicking a uniformed man down and grabbing the baton. There were no windows in sight but the sight of stairs was good news.

Oh how she was wrong.

A sharp needle stabbed her in the neck without warning and as Trish found the needle to pull it out, she lost her footing at the step of the stairs and tumbled all the way down, knocking the air out of the lungs and smashing her head on the floor. White hot pain danced before her right eye as it grew heavy. Trish took the last of her energy, before the sedative kicked in, to force her head up and look at her assailant smiling down at her, holding a gun.

“Hello again, Subject 392.”

The world went black on her.

Trish woke up again and this time she was strapped to an uncomfortable chair. She tried to detach her arm first in order to undo the rest of the straps on her body. When she tried to twist her wrist off, a dull pain shot up her arm, unable to detach itself. She tried again and it was the same result. She tried her ankles and she got pins and needles instead.

She gave her arm a shake to pull up the sleeve of her outfit and saw stitches sewn around the dismembered scars. That was why her body was in pain and why she couldn’t separate from her body during her escape. Someone had sewn her body parts together while she was unconscious. Those monsters!

While Trish was distracted by the horrors they’ve done to her, she didn’t bother to check her surroundings in the room first or notice the same person who shot her the sedative to enter the room quietly and slid into the chair across her.

“Subject 392.”

Her head shot up to his direction, her brown eye narrowing, and a half frown deepened making the side grin bare part of her teeth at him.

“You…You haven’t changed one bit…Dr. Alexei Rowland.”

Rowland was grinning ear to ear from hearing his name uttered aloud, his hands clasped together, pressing them against his chin, his elbows resting on the table. “Good good, your memory of me has not been fully corrupted.”

“Had it been then I would not be hunting each and every one of you down for what you’ve done to me.” She snapped, jerking her body forward in her restraints, ignoring the sudden sharp pain from the stitches. “You happened to be next after I killed Dr. Melanie Warren a few months ago.” Fits of cruel chuckles were made, her head jerked to the side. “I remember the both of you were close back then. Did you attend her funeral? Was there one? I sure hope there was and if it was an open casket too.”

“I see you have developed quite a sense of humour, 392.”

“DO NOT CALL ME BY THAT NUMBER!” Her voice rose to a shrill scream. “Horrid! Unforgivable! Manipulative bastard!”

“And certainly a vast range of emotions over the past few years.” He couldn’t help but chuckle after being taunted and yelled at by their former experiment. “You surely must remember what he would do if he finds out about this…If he knows where you are right now…”

A pin has dropped. Her pupil dilated, chapped lips parted, and her nails clawed into the armrest.

“He’s…” All the anger Trish had was washed away, replaced with fear and dread in the pit of her stomach. It felt like she couldn’t breathe by the mere thought of him. “Where is he…?”

Rowland smiled at her. A smile that was fake and cold. “I don’t know where he is. I haven’t seen him since the day he kicked me out of my own lab and burned my research papers right before my eyes.” He let out a hum. “When was that? Possibly two years after your escape. I’m sure you must have heard when R.A.S went downhill with all that information leaked to the public. Similarly how it happened with Umbrella, don’t you think? It was hard for us before the majority went our separate ways, but you know how he is. Persistent and aiming further than the stars for a change in human evolution.” He finally ceased his talking when he noticed how quiet Trish had gotten.

“Cat got your tongue?”

“No.” She said calmly at last. “I’m simply remembering why I tune you out everytime you talk to him. You really do talk so much. Brilliant in your work but a massive chatterbug.” Her comments simply made Rowland chuckle, removing his glasses to examine any smudges on them before putting them back on. “Now I can't simply be described with those two attributes alone now, Natasha?”

He wasn’t wrong, she thought, closing her eye, looking back into her broken memories back at the facility. Dr. Rowland was a recent addition to the team for his invention and his role was ensuring the brain was a clean slate when wiping out the memories on their experimented subjects. Of course she can’t remember if anyone else has received the same treatment from what she dubs ‘The Chair’. Whatever she has done that out of her creator’s viewset or question the morality of the facility, let alone have the faintest recollection of her past memories of her actions, she was always sent back to The Chair to remove part of those memories. Never a clean slate for her but they make sure to go back where she was before, a soldier.

“Now don’t ignore me, darling.” Rowland tsked to make her open her eye again and get her focus back on him again. “We are going to have a fun time here and make up for all the lost time to get you back to normal.”

“I would rather if you don’t.” She jerked in her restraints in order to break free from her leather bondage. “I am perfectly imperfect with who I am now.”

“Oh no no no.” He tsked again, standing up and picking up a briefcase from the floor. He set it on the table, unlocked the clasped and lifted the top. Trish cannot see what the briefcase contained until she caught sight of a syringe in his hand, containing a clear liquid. Fear flashed before her eyes and now she’s working on pushing herself away from him or at least tipping the chair back to break it.

“Oh no no, we can’t let you do this.” He tugged down the collar of her straitjacket and quickly injected the liquid into her neck. “Now you won’t be able to move for the next few hours. Do you remember this formula? It was Dr. Curtis’s. Thankfully I managed to find his formula at his apartment after you killed him. It’s not like anyone else will be using it and at least he’ll like the fact he can get payback beyond the grave.”

The formula was kicking in. Trish’s mind tried to order her body to move but nothing from her limbs were responding. Not even a twitch of her fingers. She tried to move her jaw or say something but nothing could move. Only her eye can move and blink and that was it. Rowland smiled at her, fixed her head up straight and moved back to the briefcase to pull out a metronome.

“Without the machine, I make do with what I have to help remove those imperfections and bring back your former glorious self. Together, we can show Andras Vonner who Dullahan can truly be.”

Rowland wind the metronome up and as the object started to move at a perfect pace, clicking a beat per minute, he went to switch off the lights, surrounding themselves with darkness. Due to her paralysing state, Trish cannot move her head to the sound of his footsteps in the little room. All she can do is listen to the sound of the metronome, her breathing, and her heartbeat beating in her ears.

A warm pair of lips pressed against her temple, feeling his smile against her skin. “Now listen to the sound of my voice, my dear.”

#Jack Krauser #Dullahan #Krauser/Dullahan #The Lost Swan #Hatter's writing #Resident Evil Krauser #Jack Krauser X OC #Krauser X OC

2 notes · View notes

stop-pressing-e · 2 years ago

Text

The Lost Swan - Chapter 4

Prev chapter | Next chapter Prologue

/Now shit is hitting the fan for both of them. What could happen next for them? Stay tune~

Enjoy reading!/

Mentions of: Blood and injuries

“Status update, Dullahan.” Her handler’s voice crackled due to the interference and because part of her visor was cracked, also affecting the call. Dullahan’s laboured breathing was their only answer before they heard her grunt an answer. “Target down but I was attacked.”

“Guards?” The fingers flew over the keyboard to find the hitman on their cameras or trying to refresh the camera connection from her helmet. “Ping me your location.”

“No.” She said, trying to maintain her French accent. “They’ll find me.” She pressed her hand against her side harder, hissing sharply in pain. “They hit me from behind. Nothing vital but it hurts and I’m bleeding a lot here.” The door she leaned against said ‘Laundry room’ and it was unlocked. No one was in and the lights were off. Dullahan locked the door and hid herself in the furthest corner of the room, pulling one of the baskets over to conceal her hiding spot better. “Going quiet. Will update you when I can.” She can hear the urgency from her handler to not do that but Dullahan turned off her visor and turned off her comms, severing her connection.

She still has her phone and knowing they will try to call her from there, her thumb scrolled to favourites to call one particular person.

Krauser answered after the first ring.

“Mission completed?” He was panting when he answered. It sounded like he was either in the middle of working out or had completed it right as she called him. She let out a soft shudder to herself, thinking it was quiet enough, but he heard it.

“Natasha?” It was very rare to hear him say her real name, sensing something was wrong and needing her full attention on him. “What happened?”

“I need you to go to my safe house.” She said, the French accent gone, keeping her voice soft but firm to get her message clear and straight. “I told you which one it was before I left.” She could hear the doorknob being shaken, forcing herself to hold her breath, and pressed her phone to her chest to muffle Krauser's possible questions if someone outside had super hearing. Her free hand went for her gun holster and pulled out her gun. She has a few bullets left in her magazine and she has a couple of clips left if she doesn’t empty it quickly. The doorknob finally stopped shaking and she waited for the darkened footsteps to walk away. She brought the phone back to her ear.

“Krauser-”

“What is going on, Natasha?” There was urgency in his voice, almost as if he wanted to raise his voice at her. She can already imagine him changing and putting on his boots to rush out of the door. It almost made her smile to herself to know how much he truly cares for her well being that he was going to drop everything he’s doing to get to her even if she has to wait for his arrival.

“I don’t know, Jack.” Her confession froze him in his tracks from packing his bag. “I’m sorry for hiding this from you but I hope when I get out of here I’ll tell you everything I have. Find my laptop, my password is…” She winced from her pain. “Contact Nikki and send her this code: ‘Black Swan meets Rat’. Tell me you got everything I said there.”

“I got it.”

“Repeat it.” She hissed

He did. “Natasha, this is unlike you and I do not like this one bit at all.” Krauser pressed his phone closer to his ear to hear her slow heavy breathing, trying to figure out where she had been hit and if her wounds could heal fast quickly in her situation. Then, he heard a soft sob from her. It was unlike her to cry in public and on the job.

“You are the best man to put up with all of my shit, Jack.” Dullahan said, slowly getting up from her hiding spot, both hands shaking, and her thumb so close to ending the call while at the same time she doesn’t want to end it. She wanted to hear his voice longer. No, she wanted to go back to him. “I love you.”

“Natas-” The call ended, her phone shut off, and Dullahan made her way to the door and unlocked it.

Krauser tried calling her again but the voice over the line told him that the person he’s trying to reach is unavailable. He tried it again and it was the same message. He practically wants to throw his phone across the loft. It started to buzz. He answered without checking the caller ID.

“Natasha?”

“What did she say to you?” He knew that voice. This was her handler. A snarl practically escaped from the bottom of his throat. “Where is the fuck is she? Is she still alive?” “I-I don’t know.” “Fucking bullshit.” Now he was yelling at the handler while he threw a few of his shirts into the bag. “She can’t just up and ghost you too.”

“She did, I'm afraid.” They told him. “Dullahan severed her comms on my end and I couldn’t reach her phone either. When she was calling you and after calling you. I know she’ll call you so tell me why she did that?”

“Like I give a shit about you or the people she works for.” He might as well have ended the call now and headed straight for the door to start his journey. “She didn’t give me a full explanation so you and I are in the dark.” There was no way he was going to tell them about his own mission she gave him. “Unless you have bigger reasons to call me regarding her, then good luck.”

“I’ll give you her last known location.” They quickly said. “Find anything that could lead to her or if there’s signs of her being alive at least.” “She’ll be alive. She’s a persistent one. You can’t kill what you consider a myth in the underground world.” The call ended and he went to the storage room to pack his gear and his weapons. Dullahan’s naked mannequin that once held her outfit somehow brought a shiver down his spine. As if a strange omen was starting to creep on his shoulders. Her words replayed in his head. Her apology, her message, her last words.

What the hell did she get herself into?

— — —

Krauser finally arrived at the safe house Dullahan is currently based at. He has stayed there a few times in the past. The code was keyed in, unlocking the door and deactivating the traps inside.

“Dullahan.” He called out her codename first, switching on the lights to the house. No response. “Trish.” The door closed, his bags dropped on the floor and he started to search around the place. “I really hope you’re asleep and recovering right now.” He looked down to make sure he’s not stepping on any of her limbs that could have come undone during her state. The image of following a trail of her dismembered body parts gave him goosebumps. He can handle what she can do but he doesn’t like the idea of her body used as bread crumbs. He reached the bedroom and slowly pushed the door open. “Natasha?”

The bed was empty and there were no signs of her or blood. Everything in the room was neat and clean. The sight of her laptop caught his attention, remembering what she asked him to do over the phone. Speaking of which.

“This is Major Krauser. She’s not at her safe house.” He told her handler. “The place is still clean and I searched the surrounding area too. No signs of her body or blood.” As he opened the laptop and booted it up he heard a sigh made over the line. “You better check the last location she was at. Both of our calls were made there so find anything or check the cameras.”

“Fine.” The call was disconnected right as the screen asked for the password. He keyed it in and the laptop welcomed him in. A clean desktop with minimal files on screen. Figures. A browser was opened from the menu bar, curious he used the touchpad to click on the icon and the window opened to reveal a website she was checking out, making him raise an eyebrow in surprise.

The website was basically on houses for sale. Not just any houses. Old houses that are in need of serious renovations and a full restoration. The house she was checking out was a single story house located in the outskirts of San Francisco.

“Why the hell are you looking at these, dollface?” He muttered to himself as he scrolled through the rest of the options. He wondered why indeed. The loft was good enough for him. They don’t need a lot but with what they have, their neighbours are not nosy, and it was peaceful. Unless…

A chat board popped up at the corner of her screen, alerting him of a new message with a high pitch cackling from an icon of a pumpkin head on fire. A message for her? From who?

[Nikki] : We have a serious problem here Dull.

Nikki.

This was the person Trish was talking about to contact. He scrolled up to see the past conversation and saw how much they’ve talked. There was no time to read through them right now, he had to focus on the main reason he’s here. He typed out the message she told him to do.

[Horseman] : Black Swan meets Rat.

Silence for minutes after he sent it. He waited with his knee bouncing and two of his fingers drumming against the laptop.

[Nikki] : Who is this?

[Horseman] : Unimportant right now. She told me to send you this message.

[Nikki] : Shit. Do you know where she is?

[Horseman] : Negative.

[Nikki] : Double shit. This is bad news.

Blue eyes narrowed at the sentence. Bad news? Don’t tell him that she was kidnapped by this Rat?

[Horseman] : Who is this Rat?

[Nikki] : Not here. It’ll leave a paper trail on my end.

[Nikki] : We’ll need to meet up.

[Horseman] : Where?

[Nikki] : I can’t say it here either.

A headache was starting to happen at the temples. He was getting annoyed by this Nikki person online. How did Trish deal with this woman? Then again, he’s not her. God he was starting to miss her and he hasn’t begun his search for her yet.

[Horseman] : If you continue to prove no help for me, then I’ll find my own answers.

Krauser was ready to log out when Nikki quickly typed her next reply.

[Nikki] : I’ll help you!

[Horseman] : How? 5 seconds on the clock now.

[Nikki] : Dull is supposed to meet me at this old movie theatre. Meet me there instead in three days.

The address and image of the theatre was included.

[Nikki] : If you have anything useful from her sudden disappearance, bring them too.

[Nikki OFFLINE]

“Great.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I have her organisation on my ass, an informant to deal with now, and I have to find evidence if she was taken.” He muttered to himself, dragging his hand over his face, and let out a heavy sigh. “You’re putting me in quite a spot.”

#Jack Krauser #Dullahan #Krauser/Dullahan #Jack Krauser X OC #Krauser X OC #The Lost Swan #Hatter's writing #Resident Evil Krauser

2 notes · View notes

stop-pressing-e · 2 years ago

Text

The Lost Swan - Chapter 3

Prev chapter | Next chapter Prologue

/A moment of calm before the storm before the next chapter soon. Enjoy reading!/

Mentions of: A bit of dirty talking and intimate moment before a fade to black scene.

Two months have passed since Trish’s actions plagued Krauser’s mind. He never brought it up knowing she’ll deflect the subject for his exhaustion from their job. He happened to take on a number of mercenary contracts to counterbalance the number of hitman contracts Trish was given. The number of jobs simply happened to be in the same countries, allowing them to travel together and their final job happened to finish at the same time, thus they were able to return home together to Trish’s industrial loft at long last.

It was their little bubble to enjoy their domesticity and to drop their guard down to be two normal people with unnatural abilities. Trish’s neighbours accepted Krauser without a word, albeit with some questioning looks due to his appearance and when they learned he’s been living with her for over a year without introducing him to them. Like Trish, they understood that Krauser is also a reserved individual who makes small talk and has his nose buried in work making it a rarity to see either of them unless so.

“Bloody hell…” She let out a grumble after closing the fridge door. Krauser lowered down the volume of the television after hearing her annoyance, turning his torso over to look at her. “What?” “I don’t have the specific ingredients to make dinner tonight.” She answered with a heavy sigh, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “I should go but there are things I need to prepare. I’m sorry to ask, love, but would you please go get the things for me? I’ll write down the list.”

Something so little could bring a sigh from the mercenary too but he made no complaint about it. He has done this before so it’s nothing new. “Anything else you want me to get other than these?” “Nothing else in mind but I trust your judgement if we’re missing something else.” She replied, soon snapping her fingers. “Oh, you can get the wine too. It’ll pair perfectly with what I’m making.” A lewd smile formed on her face for Krauser to see when he collected the list from her. “If you remember which one I’m talking about, I’ll give you a reward for it.”

A blonde eyebrow bounced up and a smirk curled on his features. “Am I allowed to make a request?” “Only one, love. It’ll be a surprise.” The smirk grew and a glint of mischief shined in his eyes. “Wear the stockings with your outfit.” He said, stepping closer to close the gap between them and snaked his hand behind Trish to squeeze her ass. “And wear that toy too. You know which one.”

The ass grab caught her attention and she couldn’t help but blush while the grin stayed on. “That’s two requests, love.” She purred softly, canting her head to the right. “But I’ll make an exception if you get everything.” “Yes ma’am.” He squeezed her ass once more and pulled away before Trish could plan on kissing him, making a groan underneath her breath.

“Ugh, that man I swear to god.”

At the grocery market, Krauser has gotten the things Trish needed to make dinner along with some things they needed or not. He got ice-cream too for dessert, if there will be a chance for dessert afterward. All that’s left is the wine and he’s not getting it at the grocery market. He’s heading for the liquor shop instead. They have a better variety.

He was not far from the shop when he halted in his steps, swearing he saw a particular someone, who was supposed to be at home half an hour ago, is currently in a cafe they’ve visited a few times. It was Trish alright and it looked like she’s in a deep conversation with another person sitting across from her. Her blind side was facing the window, unable to see that Krauser was watching her talking to someone. He was more focused on the person she’s talking to, rarely seeing her interacting with anyone at all in this city they’re living in that is not work related and the people she works for never makes a visit unless she does so at a meet up site.

So who the hell is this?

The haircut was a choppy pixie cut in a fiery red colour that clearly looked to be done by a box dye. The black hoodie looked oddly familiar, specifically with the graphic design on the sleeve. The features were difficult to see from across the road and he can’t go up to the cafe without alerting them by his presence. He needed them separated. Krauser quickly pulled out his phone from his cargo pants and his thumb flew over the keypad to type in the message that he’s getting the wine at the shop and he’ll be heading home soon. Once he pressed send, he watched Trish pick up her phone from the table and saw the change in her body language. Whatever she was telling the other person, she had to go home, fast. A brown thick envelope caught his attention before it disappeared into her messenger bag and Krauser ducked behind the car to avoid her gaze, peering through the car windows to watch the rest of the quick interaction and then Trish leaving the cafe. The redhead patted their pocket and pulled out a crisp bill to pay before leaving.

Krauser kept his distance as he followed the hooded person. They looked agitated from behind, occasionally looking left and right and often behind, forcing Krauser to duck for cover without being seen. Where the hell are they going? He has no time to play detective with the stuff Trish needed and without her wondering what’s taking him so long. Thankfully he knew a shortcut to get to them faster. It was a perfect chance to pull them into an alleyway right before they reached the traffic light. One large hand clamped over their mouth to prevent them from screaming and the other hand held his knife, placed under their neck, as he dragged them back to interrogate them.

There was no chance to do so once they stomped on his foot and threw their head back, breaking his nose. Krauser let out a curse and made a cut on their arm, making them let out a scream and clutching their arm. The scream was high pitched and feminine, indicating that this was a woman he’s up against. It was the same pitch of surprise, similar to the one he heard back at the bar. With her opportunity, she ran off given the chance she had stunned him for a moment. She was already too far away for him to chase after and he was starting to run late with the groceries and he needed to get the wine. He ignored the dull pain of his nose during the whole ordeal of him getting the wine and returning back home, the plagas inside of him having healed a minor injury quickly. The blood was cleaned off and he double checked to be sure there’s no blood on his dark shirt.

“Finally!” Trish exclaimed right as Krauser stepped through the door. “You’re finally back home! What took you so long? Traffic couldn’t have been that bad.” “Don’t underestimate peak hours and I nearly had to fight with an old bitch who wanted to take my wine bottle.” He feigned annoyance in his answer when setting the bags down. He wasn’t the only one faking the situation in their home since he has caught her outside. It was unclear how long she had been out while he was shopping but damn dinner was almost ready.

The kiss on his cheek snapped his attention and he watched Trish rummaged through the bags to retrieve the ingredients she needed. “You got ice-cream too!” She said with joy before poking the container. “Aww, it’s a bit soft. Hopefully by the time we’re done with dinner it should be firm up.” “Anything else you need me to do?” “Not yet.” She said, chopping up the carrots into small chunks. “You can set up the table when I cook the lamb eventually. For now, you can go back to what you were doing. Thanks for getting the things, Jackie.”

Once she watched Krauser heading back to the living room, she shook her head to herself. She was damn lucky she was done making the gravy by the time Krauser left or else she’ll be scrambling to get that done after receiving the text from him from the cafe. Always the attentive man to get everything needed on the list, minus the ice cream which was sweet of him, and viewing it as a straightforward mission without a side quest. But it wasn’t the reason why she was concerned by it. She was mostly concerned that she’s hiding this mission from him. They rarely hide secrets from each other nowadays and Trish has managed to get him to properly communicate with her without him stewing on it and making her try to read his mind.

This time it’s not from the organisation giving her this job. This one was personal and it was a concerning one if Krauser even discovers about it on the dot. The envelope she was given was hidden in one of the drawers at her art studio. One of the few places he would never check but she will still need to move it to another location for paranoid reasons. Looking back at the blonde across the room, she let out a soft sigh for herself. All she hopes for when the time comes is that she doesn’t take so long when she goes away.

All for her own sake.

Trish sat herself on Krauser’s lap without a word and rested her head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her figure and she adjusted her position better. She took in his scent of sandalwood and his sweat, inhaling the smell softly. As she did so she felt Krauser shifted under her weight and soon her lips latched against his neck, trailing soft kisses along his skin. She can feel the vibrations of his grunts against her lips as she continues.

“Getting a bit needy here, aren’t we?”

“Mmm…” She hummed against his skin and soon she was nibbling him, alternating with sucking to leave a few marks on him as he often does to her. “Badly…” To ensure the message was clear, she switched her position so that she was straddling his lap and rolled her hips against his. “Rain check on the reward?” She pulled away from his neck to face Krauser, staring back at her with a smirk on his face and the hazy look of lust in his eyes. “Consider this my reward instead.” He slung her over his shoulder as he stood up, holding her by the hips, and carried her up to the bedroom area.

It was two in the morning and Trish was downstairs reading the documents by the table lamp, not risking to use the lamp stand to wake up Krauser. In fact, she needed to be careful when reading them if he woke up and wondered where she could be before heading downstairs and questioned her reasoning to still be awake. Most of the papers were transcripts from an audio recording which will need to be looked at tomorrow when she’s alone, others were new information on the latest updates, and the rest were pictures to compare and examine on the large map included filled with red writing and markings. These things need to be thoroughly examined when Krauser heads out. Looking at her phone, she has been awake for half an hour. It was best to stop for the night and continue when she can. The envelope was tucked away between the painted canvases and stuck it in one of the corners.

Krauser hasn’t moved since she left the bed and she carefully slid herself back under the covers, composing herself to breathe slowly and carefully to even her breathing and to relax herself. While she does, she takes her remaining waking minutes to admire his sleeping features. ‘I will miss this.’ She thought, staring at his long lashes, the large scar trailing down the left side of his face, down to the long thin lips she has kissed so many times, aching to kiss him right now without a second thought. ‘And I will miss you, my love.’

Why was it when she closed her eye, her heart started to break and tears silently rolled down her cheeks?

#Jack Krauser #Dullahan #The Lost Swan #Hatter's writing #Krauser x OC #Jack Krauser X OC #Resident Evil Krauser #Krauser/Dullahan

1 note · View note