Lone Wolf

Chapter 3: Lone Wolf  (ID #445166)
    an addition by: Haze (1)  ht4zo

      The lights above Leon seemed brighter than the sun. Squinting and twisting against the foreign lights he is able to collect himself. Noticing now that it is obviously night," Ok, maybe early morning." he laughs to himself. Its been a while since he's had that much to drink. "Forgot how much I love French women." Leon mumbles to himself as the cab rolls to a stop. "What that you saying big man" The skinny korean man responds. Leon reaches in his pocket removing a massive ball of wadded up bills. One hundred, two hundred, five hundred,"Way too much money to be carrying around drunk." Leon scolds himself as he struggles to count out the fare.
   
      "Hurry hurry, I got place to be, you pay now. Forty one dollar!!" the cabby blurts from the driverside. Leon snorts in the crisp night air "Yeah don't we all asshole!", and tosses in a fifty. "Hey fuck you round eye!" can be heard as the car squeels off into the night. The first thought that hits Leon is that New York isn't the only place with shitty cab drivers. Having been born and raised in itally, the quiet sounds of his childhood home were genuinly missed. With only a couple years experiance of the traffic in the New York area, the comparison was accurate as far as Leon was concerned.
   
    All things considered, this evening turned out to be pretty good for Ol' Leon. Chuckling to himself he brushes the wrinkles out of his shirt. Still torn and covered in glitter he remembers the girls at Le Pussy. An obviosly American influenced club in the heart of all the well known hotels in the area, but still fun. Strip clubs aren't normaly his thing, however the oportunity to see his newest target in person will undoubtedly help the misssion.
The rest of the team would be here in one week, the night of their arrival Leon is to assasinate the leader of La Resistance. Marcus Clemonet, a well respected businessman to most in the world. The truth isn't that far off, he runs many fortune fivehundred companies, too bad behind all of them his money funds one of the most bloodthirsty and savage terrorist cells in the world. With more than 600 innocents killed by means of IEDs, and multiple murders with small arms in the last 6 months, Marcus was definately at the top of the wanted list.
   
      Leon finished off 6 pints and at least 5 random shots, but his trained mind is able to picture Marcus' face vividly. Sharp jawline, slightly receading hairline, beaklike nose, and ice blue eyes. The man looked slavic, yet still had that real arrogant look down your nose at the peasants feel to it. Leon wouldn't forget it, that he knew. The voice behind La Resistance would be staying high in the hills of northeastern France, the exact location would be sent to Leon tonight. Two more nights of fun, and then he would have to pack up and head out. "Better get some sleep, got alot of drinkin to do tomarrow." Leon continues walking down the brightly lit streets of Paris in what he hopes is the right direction to the hotel. Why the cabby didn't drop him off at the hotel Leon wasn't sure, but it probably had to do with the vomit left in the back of the cab.
     
    Thursday evening, the night Leon has to leave, the hotel room is a mess and he has no idea where to start. "Fuck this, I can allways get new shit." he proceeds to kick his garbage and clothes out of the way. Reaching the closet Leon pulls the door clean off the wall. "Oops, guess I'm more hungover then I thought." he mumbles to himself as the door is set gently to the floor. On the bottom of the closet is what looks to be a hiking pack and a rifle bag no different then one you could buy at Cabella's. Underneath the company logos and cheap looking material, is a well kept set of gear with resources enought to sustain two people for a couple weeks. In the gun case, one of the most well made, and well kept rifles in the world. Hand made and adjusted by Leon himself, the rifle is known only as Wrath. The name was not given by it's owner, rather by those who knew of it's reputation. With Leon behind Wrath, over 700 lives have been ended and not a single one having known what happened. Hoisting his pack and rifle, and dressed in civilian clothes, Leon heads for the single engine puddle jumper that is going to take him into the wilderness on a "hunting trip" only seventeen miles away from Marcus' cabin home.

      It's been sixteen hours since Leon headed out from where the puddle jumper dropped him, a little early it will let him get situated. Looking out from the outcroping of rock Leon found in the trees overlooking the home he could see the whole property. On a moonlit night the entire house is lit up well. Without the need for night vision Leon removes his spotting scope from his pack. Wrath rests on the pack pearched and ready to bark in an instant. The spotting scope gives him a perfect view into the cabin windows, the view couldn't be better unless he was inside. A couple lights on, looks like a quiet evening, and there he is. The bird man himself strolls into the kitchen in perfect view, but not alone. Behind him comes an emaculatly crafted blond. Fake tits, fake lips and who knows what else. "But those docs were masters of their craft." Leon thinks aloud. As the couple slides back into the bedroom Leon feels bad for the girl because tomarrow will be one fucked up morning. He puts the spotting scope down and rests his eye behind Wrath's scope, another long night of no sleep and little rest.

      Dawn is met by dew and birds, and there is a stir in the cabin. Marcus comes out of the bedroom half dressed and staggers to the coffee machine. Pouring a cup for himself he sits at the counter and flips the TV on to ESPN, guess everyones a football fan. The lyth blond who happened to be rediculously top-heavy steps into the room and looks very dissapointed. Leon laughs and thinks,"Looks like money can't buy you everything." Maybe her morning will be one of satisfaction in contrast to her night of dissapointment. Looking through his scope Leon locks his sights on the right eye of Marcus. As he continues to sip his coffee and watch the highlights of the Minnesota vs Atlanta game The sights are moved to the blond. Fiddling in her purse and finding her phone she probably has to find a ride home. "What a dick" Leon thinks as he moves his crosshairs to the right eye of Marcus.

      "Ugh, I can't get any fuckin service you fuck! Can't you just give me a fuckin ride!?" the blond exclaims as she throws her phone back in her purse. "Yeah, yeah whatever!" Marcus responds with distaste rolling off his tongue. "You know how much shit i do for" SPLAT! Marcus' head explodes into a red mist as the blonde is showerd in brainmatter and skull. A blood curdling scream resonates from the cabin and reverberates across the hills. Her phone rings, fumbling with shakey hands, she recovers her phone from her purse," Hey, you need to come pick me the fuck up.... yeah I'm out here dumb ass.... Jee, do ya think, yeah I'm fuckin scared.... Marcus is fuckin dead thats why!.... I think he was shot, it doesn't matter I don't want anything to do with it come get me.... hurry up!"

      Slowly Leon gathers the ejected cartrige and weapon, allong with all of his gear and begins the long trek back to the landing strip. The only bad thing is that he must now go find a bear to shoot to keep his cover in the area. The hike out wont be that fun with the extra weight but bear sure is good to eat. As the trail opens Leon begins to whistle the theme song to a show he can't quite remember.