Once Upon a Chance...[Open]

[Leon]

There was really nothing special about the day. People went about their normal routines without so much as a second thought to the world about them, only looking up from their computer screens, cell phones, or cups of coffee to warily take a glance about, or when something calls their immediate attention away from the thing in front of them. “Same old, same old.” some would say, noting that in today's society, nothing new changes the perspective of those focused on ignoring the new. But, that was a concern for those who actually took the time to break the mold and look at things with a different light.

The city spanned for miles around, skyscrapers reaching up like glinting fingers from the ground, trying to desperately grasp the skyline like if they could hold onto it, they could do anything. The sun was high in the sky, speaking about two o'clock in the afternoon. Clouds floated lazily in the late spring heat, and everything had already shaken off the sickly brown and donned a new coat of greens, yellows, and other vibrant colors. Here and there the occasional steam cloud puffed up from a smokestack, making its slow way into the heavens above, before vanishing like it had never been. Cars rolled along the city streets, people walked the sidewalks, and the occasional plane flew far above, catching the eyes of children and the casual stroller now and again.

The scene was something of a model of everyday life. Looking down from a very tall office building, the world below seemed to be a living map, a model for how society had changed from the centrist village, to the sprawling mass of metal, glass, and pavement. It was within that office building that a man looked out from his office on the top floor. The office itself was rather ornate, bedecked in vanilla white walls, paintings hung every now and again to give it some flair. The ceiling was also off-white, being high and made of small ceramic tiles. Several chandelier-like lights hung down, turned low to provide a small touch of illumination to the area around it. The wall in which the man stood looking out of was of floor to ceiling windows, tinted on the exterior to provide a touch of security from prying eyes. The floor was partly tiled in white and grey marble, polished to a slight shine, and carpeted by the door and around the back left corner of the office, in right maroon carpeting. The style was something of a favorite of the mans, having a very similar style in his own home. On the carpeting, which took up a substantial space of the corner, sat two different black leather couches, four comfortable chairs (also black leather), and two small coffee tables made of clear glass and metal. Next to one of the tables sat a small coffee maker, sugar, and creamer, all ready to serve to clients and guests.

Along regular intervals stood pedistals with display cases upon them, with various objects inside of the cases. Here and there stood a piece of art, such as a replica spear, a helmet from an ancient war, and in another stood a small model rocket, with smoke plume beneath it, giving still life to the artwork. Though the artwork was fairly eye catching, it was the desk in the center of the room which could easily command attention. A large desk with a high-backed, but very comfortable, chair stood, ornately carved, with graceful arches and embellishments of gold to accent the curves and designs. The desk itself was made of black marble, flowing into a semi-circle with enough space for the person sitting behind it to turn a wide radius and still have somewhere to place things, with a clear, glass like top. On one corner sat several folders and the like, but that was hardly interesting. The real eye catcher was what was coming from the desk itself. From the glass-like surface came projected images of people, places, data, and a very human looking face. It wouldn't be surprising if they were still images, but they instead were fully in motion, the human face was talking, the sound being transmitted into the office through speakers that were placed in various areas, but made to blend into the scenery of the office itself.

“... and with the information that they've provided, it seems that they are interested in a more concrete contract with the company. Should I inform them that we're willing to negotiate?” the face said, sounding almost identical to a human male would sound in person.

The question hung in the air for a second before the face cleared his throat and asked again.

“Leon. Should I contact the Burtand representative and prompt them with a possible contract or not?” The face said, trying to break the man, now idetified as Leon, from his musings.

The man turned about at that, his expression neutral. Sunglasses hid his eyes and his posture gave nothing away to what he was thinking.

“Yeah Harv. Tell em that we can drum up a business plan by tomorrow. I'm gonna want to meet with someone before the weeks out, though, so they'd better be ready to jump when this hits.” Leon said, walking over to his desk and opening a small drawer.

Reaching inside, Leon produced a pack of cigarettes, pulled one out, and placed it between his lips.

“You've been acting like you're thinking for the world, Leon. Seriously, what's up? I'll shoot the information over to the Burtand's, but whats eating at ya? I know you better than anyone, I mean hell, I was hand made by you, so I think I should.” HARVI said.

Leon lit the cigarette and took a puff, laughing as the smoke trailed out of his mouth.

“Been thinking about how things are these days. Here I am, sitting in my own office, in my own company, building security systems, weapons platforms, blah blah blah, and I look out that window. Down there, people have no idea what's goin' on. The look up here at D.R.E.A.D. And think that's it's just a simple company. Then they look back down at their phones or whatever and the day goes on. I don't understand it.” Leon said, sitting down in his chair and putting his feet up on the desk.

Leon ran a hand through his hair and took another pull from his cigarette. Behind him, the window angled outward slightly, allowing fresh air to flow into the room.

“You can't change people, Leon. Just because you're fascinated with the prospect of people being blind to the greater things in life, doesn't mean you can preach to them and change things. Those the poses of a dictator and a madman. Best to leave those things for those kinds of people, and keep building things to fight against those people. Save lives, so that they can find out the greater truths for themselves... or not. That's how life now-a-days is.” HARVI said, a grin on his computerized lips.

Leon laughed again and shook his head.

“Can't believe I just got a morality lesson from you, but you're right just the same. Thanks Harv.” Leon said, looking at HARVI's face.

The face simply rolled his eyes and smirked.

“I'll forward the information. Why don't you go and get something to eat already? Its two twenty and you haven't eaten since eight this morning.” HARVI said, his face rolling backwards and revealing more of a computerized body. A man of medium build, clothed in fairly nice clothing, sat back on nothing and rested on leg on the other knee. Close cropped black hair and a clean shave, green eyes, and a very distinctly angular jaw gave the man a very Nordic look.

“Alright, alright.. man Harv... You're worse than Alice. But fine. I'll go grab somethin' and be back in... an hour or so.” Leon said, getting up from his chair with another chuckle.

“Yeah yeah... just get before I throw you out myself.” Harvi responded with a chuckle of his own.

~

It took Leon almost no time at all to get a couple of his things together before taking the elevator to the ground floor. He walked past his secretary, who gave a small smile to him as he passed, rode down by himself, and then walked out into the main foyer, which was populated by quite a number of people, all dressed in business suits and dresses. It was almost a stark contrast to himself, who was clothed in a simple white thermal shirt, his dogtags, faded dark blue jeans, and combat boots. His hair was also tied neatly in a small neck ponytail, while everyone else had business casual cuts. Leon shook his head and walked on with a small smile on his lips.

As he crossed the lobby, several people made the attempt to talk to him and flag him down to talk business. He answered a couple questions while walking, but told the majority of those who went after him to schedule an appointment with his secretary. Out the main double doors and onto the warm street, Leon proceeded to the parking garage across the street. Granted he had direct access to the building in his office, but today he decided to take a more hands on approach. Across the street and into the garage, Leon walked up to the private lot, showed his ID, and moved to his car. A sleek looking muscle car, along the side simply read Mustang. Midnight black with a single racing stripe running the length of the body, the car was well maintained, having a nice reflection in the light of the lot. The interior was also very nice, having white leather covering the seats and some of the paneling. Leon popped the electric lock on the doors, climbed in, and started up the engine, giving it a few good revs before pulling out of his spot and past the security point.

He rolled out of the garage and into traffic, maneuvering through the streets towards the outskirts of town, having a particular sandwich shop in mind for where he wanted to get something to eat.

~

It was roughly ten minutes later, having sat through a small traffic jam, before Leon arrived at a small sub-shop in a more scenic area of the city. Having a park across the street, and small shops along the street next to the sub-shop, the area was more of town-like in image than being part of a city. The place he had stopped was owned by a friend of his, who warmly greeted Leon as he walked in and sat down.

“What'll ya have, ya bugger?” The man asked with a good natured laugh.

“Same thing as always Greg. I'll try not to close my eyes this time and eat without retching.” Leon responded, giving his friend a playful slap on the shoulder.

Greg simply laughed and headed into the kitchen to start making the food, leaving Leon to sit in the somewhat populated shop. Leon knew that today was different, but he couldn't tell why.

[Relairah]

The day had started out like any other, and indeed the sky seemed as pleasant as could be. Perhaps even deceptively so. Children laughed and played, and the city was full of the normal business of people going to and from their daily routines. Yet there were some that would find their norm severely disrupted.

Those sitting nearest to the door of the sub-shop jumped and looked up with wide eyes as a middle-aged man burst through the door. Sweat gleamed across his brow and his breath was coming short in heavy pants. He looked around with light brown eyes, wide also, the few stringy whisps of hair atop his balding head falling down into them. He raised a slightly chubby hand to wipe his hair away before shifting to an open seat between the door and the first window and sitting down. He looked around nervously, his gaze glancing at the door almost with a twitch as though he were watching for something else to come through it. He was dressed in a long-sleeved button up shirt, pale with brown stripes, and a dark vest which bulged over his rounded belly. His stubby legs were covered with dark brown pants, matching his vest, and he wore slick leather shoes with pale socks. Perhaps some might recognize him, though he doubted it. He hoped it wasn't the case. He was well-known in the criminal world. But his face was one he went out of his way to not be associated as such.

Finally, after a few moments, the man slowly stood, edging his way around the walls of the shop toward the counter. However, he didn't order, but rather once more sat at a seat close to Leon. He took in the other, and glanced toward the door again, wringing his hands. "Hey, do you think you could help me?" he muttered, his voice rough and jagged as he continued trying to calm his breathing.

The man continued looking around the shop - looking for something, anything he could grab if he needed it. "I'm being hunted," he whispered, even softer than his question.

[Leon]

Leon was fortunate to have such a wide array of technology at his disposal. To those looking at him, all they would see was a man wearing sunglasses. Nothing out of the ordinary, though at times it could be considered strange to see a man wearing them at night. To Leon, however, there was a world of difference between the two sides of the glasses. On Leon's side, a constant feed of information scrolled past his eyes, ranging from simple graphs, to topographical analysis of the areas around him and his holdings. Overhead, hundreds of miles above the planet, numerous satellites circled, gathering data, compiled information, and sent the stream of knowledge back to a central hub, all to be transmitted to various places for his personal use. Having a defense company was a lucrative, if not exciting, venture.

However, with all the information at Leon's disposal, he could not have seen this set of circumstances coming. The door jingled loudly behind him, several of the other patrons turning their heads sharply to look at the new arrival, while Leon kept his eyes forward, taking the cup of coffee that Greg had placed before him in hand. He took a short drink and acted disinterested in the new person. He could hear their ragged breathing, and almost imagined the person to be wild eyed and a general mess. The patron walked about and took a seat next to one of the widows in the diner. The place itself wasn't overly large, able to sit about sixty people at full capacity, and was styled in a jazz-reformist fashion. The booths were covered in black leather that had lost its shine long ago, the tables of brown lacquered wood. Pictures of buildings, towns, lake-sides and various other subjects decorated the walls, plus several different televisions displaying various things. The bar itself was high-topped, with the traditional red bar-stool seating that was typical of small town diners, with two cash-registers, napkins, ketchup, mustard, salt and pepper all at different intervals. Behind the bar were several display containers, holding various things. Pies, slices of cake, fruit bowls, the usual. Coffee urns, hot water taps, several sinks, and various other pieces decorated a counter, plus the stock of utensils and plates. Further along stood two swinging doors that led into the kitchen, with a serving window set into the wall perhaps two feet from the doors. The sounds of cooking and various other work came from beyond, along with the occasional note from Greg humming to himself as he worked.

Thinking that the new patron was finally settled, Leon started to return to the information scrolling before his eyes. But, as fortune would have it, that was not the case. The customer stood after several moments and made their way casually to the bar. Choosing the seat next to Leon, to which he inwardly groaned, the man, as was evident in his voice, leaned over and whispered to Leon.

“Hey, do you think you could help me?” The man asked.

Leon again, inwardly groaned, thinking to himself that today was going to be getting only more and more interesting as the moments went by. It was several seconds later that confirmed Leon's cynicism.

“I'm being hunted.” the man whispered.

Leon didn't react to begin with, lifting his cup to his lips and taking a somewhat long draft of his coffee. At this point, the information scrolling before his eyes changed, relaying tactical information of the area to him, showing structural scans, escape routes, local law enforcement positions, and general notes on the area.

“I would think that someone being hunted would find it unwise to enter a public business. Makes it fairly easy for those hunting to find their mark.” Leon said, placing his cup before him. He didn't turn, didn't look at the man as he said this.

“Also, I would question the motivation of a man who is supposedly on the run from someone hunting them, asking a random person for assistance pertaining to the hunt. In addition, I have to wonder, why are you asking me, specifically? Is there something about me that intrigues you, or do I seem to be someone who could offer protection?” Leon added, now giving the man a sidelong glance. “For the time being, I'm just a man, sitting in a diner, drinking coffee and waiting for his lunch. So, if you need my help, I need to know who's asking, and, more specifically... why?”

.:oOc: Hey there Rel! I'm sorry that this response is so late. I've finally gotten a little time to breathe and work on some things that I have had in the back log, so getting back here on NI and writing reply's is what I'm going to focus on for the next couple of days! Let me know if there's anything you need me to change or work on, and I'll get right on it!:.

[Relairah]

The man found a butter knife on one of the tables and he moved to snatch it and clutch it close to his chest, all while staring intently toward the door, before returning to the seat by the counter. As Leon responded, the man's eyes flashed toward him, His tightened expression fell and his eyes widened further, if that were possible. He wiped at his forehead and tried to breathe in deeply and grasp at composure. "Fair suggestions," he gasped. "Though your response only further confirms my suspicions that you could, in fact, help me." He paused, still clutching the knife, though at least attempting to breathe more steadily. "As for why you, your boots and composure indicate more than your casual businessman, and you're the only one in the shop wearing sunglasses. Most people take their glasses off while indoors, which says a lot."

He paused once more, twisting his lip in contemplation, and finally spoke again. "My name is Vincent Smith." He said his name so quietly, he wondered if the other heard him, but he didn't want anyone else to hear it. "And something... inhuman... is after me." After saying this, Vincent's face grew paler than it already was, new beads of sweat forming on his face. "I have my crimes," he continued, "but we all have our reasons." With that, he fell silent. His eyes, pleading, shifted toward the other's face for only a moment, before staring once more at the door.

[Leon]

At the mention of the man's name, Leon grinned and made up his mind. Vincent Smith, a name that Leon had heard several times recently. According to reliable sources, Vincent Smith had started off as a small time thug, pushing people for money for protection from various groups. Largely xenophobic, he would go out of his way to show hostility to the anthro races who took up residence in the city's ghettos and in some sub-urban communities. After several years of running a protection gig, he had amassed enough men to begin working on the gang level. Running various small underground casinos, drug dens, and various deepground night-clubs, Vincent began to build up more and more of a reputation for himself.

After nearly five years, he had amassed enough back-support and money that he though that he should take his name further by trying to take over a company; start earning money on an international level, but using the company as a “Legal venture” to cover his own rear end. So, in thinking, he decided to target a security company, thinking that while they many go about and create technology for people's homes, the government, and other contractors, they would believe that they themselves would trust in a lighter level of security for their premise. That company happened to be Domestic, Regional, and External Artificial Defenses Incorporated, or simply, DREAD Inc. In addition to the name, the company happened to be owned by a very powerful and wealthy former Marine, and that Marine just happened to be Leon.

Luckily for Leon, he typically avoided the pubic press, his face going vaguely unnoticed or the name not sticking. Unluckily for Vincent, Leon remembered his attempts at getting a foot hold in his company. It was a year after Leon had launched DREAD and their name was still on the precipice of being largely known. A group of men came to his main offices asking to meet with the president of the company, claiming to be interested in a business venture. Four men entered the building, made their way to Leon's office on the top floor, and proceeded to sit down and discuss an offer of investment with his company. They offered in the area of fifty million dollars in additional funding if they they were given roughly a third of ownership of the company. Fifty million dollars that had been amassed due to various illegal activities.

Leon, being faced with such a large offering of money laughed incredulously, thinking that these men couldn't possibly even begin to imagine what fifty million even looked like. He shook his head and thanked them for the offer and the laugh, but turned them down on the spot. Needless to say, they weren't going to take “No,” for an answer. They proceeded to pull out various weapons and made several threats on Leon's life. Obviously thinking that Leon would be forced to comply with their demands on account of his life being threatened, they weren't fully prepared for his response. Within four seconds of the repeated demands and threats, there was a blade sticking out of one of the men's chest, a second's hands had been lopped completely off, and the other two were on their backs with a blade to their throats each. There, Leon stood above them, having been completely un-armed a second before, with twin sword points at the men's throats.

“Do me a favor,” Leon said, looking down at the two before him. “Go back to your boss, and tell him that if he want's to intimidate me, he'll have to send quite a number of men to their deaths before me. Oh, and that you can rot with your money.”

Needless to say, the two surviving men returned to Vincent and passed along the information, telling him that trying to take over a company like that would be just this side of suicide, thus dashing that plan. Without wanting to take a business leap like that again, Vincent consolidated his grounds and continued to further his possessions towards the underground lifestyle, thinking that it would be safer than try to butt into the day to day dealings.
~

The trip down memory lane made Leon chuckle as he picked up his coffee again.

“Well, Mr. Smith... Vincent, if I may be so bold to call you that.” Leon said, looking towards the kitchen as Greg walked out with his meal.

“Seeing you in this place with a knife held for dear life in your hand, it reminds me of something. Tell me if this sounds familiar. Three years ago, a group of men entered my office intent on investing fifty million dollars into my company for a third of the holdings. They were told no, and only a few of them returned to their boss. I never heard nor saw those men again, and I can only wonder what became of them. But, tell me, does that strike you as familiar in any way? Because if it does, then perhaps you can garner a guess as to my answer to protecting you.” Leon started, taking a bite of his sandwich,

Mm... Fresh roast beef. Nice touch Greg. Leon inwardly thought, awaiting the reaction of Mr. Vincent.

.:OOC: There... that should be something to go on haha. Allows for quite a few different things to come up haha. Let me know if you want me to change or fix something!:.

[Relairah]

OoC: Haha no worries! XD Indeed there are numerous possibilities... >)

iC:

Vincent looked at Leon as he finally answered him. He simply stared at him a moment, almost in complete disbelief, and then turned his gaze toward the door once more. He opened his mouth to respond, but only stuttered and then clamped his lips shut. He began to quiver, the knife in his hand trembling with his frightened movements. He knew he was out of time.

Just then, the door opened, though it was hardly an elaborate entrance. It could have simply been anyone coming in for lunch, similar to Leon's visit. The door creaked slightly, the sounds from the bussle of the city entering the shop for a brief moment before the door closed once more and the jingle of the bell above it was forgotten. The guests only looked up because of curiosity and the sound of that bell, before resuming their banter. The figure that entered was tall and much thinner than Vincent. He was dressed in dark clothing which did not hide his muscular build and beneath his jacket, anyone observant would notice a variety of weapons about his figure. His tall leather boots were hardly audible against the floor, which was perhaps surprising though could have simply been due to the other sounds from about the building. Finger gloves covered his pale hands and his tousle of brown hair waved gently down his angular face. His eyes were covered by large dark sunglasses, and he strode casually toward the counter.

He stopped only when he stood just beside Vincent, on the opposite side of Leon. His face looked toward the kitchen area. Greg, who had come out at the sound of a visitor, smiled at him and asked for his order.

"I'll have an Italian sandwich, if it's no trouble," Ezekial said, his voice a smooth rumble as it carried away from him. As soon as Greg nodded and left to prepare the food, Ezekial spoke once more. He made no movements or any indication, but his voice was clear. "Did you think you could hide, Mr. Smith?" Finally, after speaking these words, his face turned toward the chubby bald man. "Or that that puny knife would protect you from your sins?"

Vincent gulped, his eyes wild as the figure entered the building and moved toward the counter. His heart was pounding in his chest. There was nowhere to run or hide. He was trapped between this man that rejected to aid him and the other that hunted him. His gaze darted to the restrooms to the side of the shop and he continued to shake, unable to calm himself. "P-please..." he murmured, shooting another pleading gaze toward Leon, and then his eyes darting to the restroom once again, "spare me. I'll change. I'll do anything." Tears were surfacing at the corners of his eyes.

"You know, I've heard those words more times than I can count. And do you want to know a secret?" He paused, "They're all lies to beg for life. Which you have wasted and have no value for. But don't worry," Ezekial finally showed indication of expression as a smirkish sort of smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "I won't spill blood in such a public place." He paused once more, glancing past Vincent and studying Leon a moment.

"Forgive the intrusion, good sir. This gentleman will soon be leaving. I hope he didn't cause you any trouble."

[Leon]

The air of the cafe certainly took on a morally colder note as the pudgy Vincent Smith pleaded with Leon. The subtle change in the air reminded Leon of the many instances of combat he had faced in his extensive militaristic life. A fleeting memory scratched against the surface of his mind, there for a moment and gone before he could grasp it. An inward shrug and another bite into his sandwich told Leon that it hardly mattered at the moment. His unwanted companion had begun to display signs of obvious duress and a shaking fear, Leon having noted the small butter knife trembling in his pale grip. His attention had turned from Leon, and was fixated on the door of the small diner, to which the sounds of the city-scape outside entered for a brief moment. The tinkle of the doors bell was a clear cut from the noise in the room, the idle chatter of the other patrons dying down and becoming more of dark rumblings as their eyes turned towards the scene before them.

Greg appeared then, coming in from the kitchen and smiled a greeting to the newcomer.

"I'll have an Italian sandwich, if it's no trouble." Was his order, to which Greg nodded and turned back into the kitchen. Leon simply took another bite from his sandwich and followed it down with a sip of coffee.

"Did you think you could hide, Mr. Smith? Or that that puny knife would protect you from your sins?" Came next from the man, in a much lower tone than his order of food.

Vincent at this point, from what Leon could tell from his peripheral view of the man, was sweating hard. His eyes were wide with fright, and his shaking had intensified.

"P-please... spare me. I'll change. I'll do anything." Vincent said, throwing Leon a look of desperation.

Leon simply took a sip of his coffee, another bite of his sandwich, and watched the small television above him. The forecast was on, detailing the weekend. Saturday was going to be a hot one, the temperature in the upper 80's, with a nighttime average of 74. Sunday was to be cooler, a small band of rain predicted to roll in during the afternoon, and ending in the early evening. Leon "Hmm..."ed to himself, taking note that he should bring in the patio furniture Saturday evening.

"You know, I've heard those words more times than I can count. And do you want to know a secret?" A pause, "They're all lies to beg for life. Which you have wasted and have no value for. But don't worry, I won't spill blood in such a public place." Said the man beside Vincent.

From what Leon could see presently, the man carried himself with the selfsame air of confidence that Leon had. Even from the glimpse, Leon could tell the man was a trained fighter, as there was a distinctive... "Aura" about the man. It also spoke of something unnatural, but what that was, Leon hadn't the foggiest. Brown hair, sunglasses, pale skin, and wearing primarily black, the man was a good five inches shorter than Leon. But, size didn't always matter. He seemed to be agile, and the subtle way that he carried himself told Leon that he held more than physical prowess about him.

A moment later, Leon could feel eyes on him. The selfsame feeling of someone speaking about you in another room, just out of earshot. You know something is focused on you, but you aren't sure what.

"Forgive the intrusion, good sir. This gentleman will soon be leaving. I hope he didn't cause you any trouble." The man beside Vincent said, casually directing his attention somewhat to Leon.

"No bother here, friend. Just discussing old business. I'm certain that our mutual friend here," Leon said, indicating with a slight motion of his elbow towards Vincent, "Understands that not all deals go ones way every time."

Turning slightly towards the two men beside him, Leon noted that the majority of the other patrons had placed money on their tables and were in the process of, or were, leaving the diner. Leon also had the distinct impression that Greg had picked up on the tension of the air when he took the mans order. Greg and Leon had been through many things, having been squad-mates during their time in the Marines. Of the five of them, Leon and Greg had turned out to be the most... normal, of the two. Both had gone under testing and surgery to become "super soldiers", but Leon took his leave before Greg. Greg had suffered during one of their last missions, having taken fire from hostiles, shielding one of the squad from harm with his body. He didn't look any different now as he did then, at least on the surface. But, that was a story for another day. It wasn't even a minute later that he returned to the from, fresh Italian sandwich on a plate with a side of kettle chips.

"Here's yer order, sir. Hope you enjoy." Greg said, with another smile.

He placed the plate on the counter before the man, and went about moving to collect the money from the tables around the diner, thanking the various patrons for stopping by and to come back again. With the money in hand, Greg returned to the serving area and rang in the money, writing down various things on a small notepad.

"Keep the change... haha..." Greg muttered to himself, laughing slightly. One of the patrons had quickly said it in their maneuvering to leave the diner.

It told Leon several things that he had guessed at a while before. Greg's patrons knew that he was ex-military, and that unpleasent business had happened in the diner before, something that made Leon smile as he placed the last bits of his sandwich in his mouth. He shot Greg a raised eyebrow and a slight crook of a smile, to which Greg laughed aloud. He knew full well what Leon had meant with the look, and laughed it off, something that was rather infectious back in their military days. Leon chewed thoughtfully, and swallowed, dabbing at the corners of his mouth. With his lunch finished, Leon turned slightly to look at his two... companions, and regarded the newcomer.

"I have to ask, friend. You two seem to have an understanding of each other, and this fellow here," Leon said clapping a hand on Vincent's shoulder, to whom he shied away from. Leon seemed to have been forgotten, for Vincent's eyes darted from the man beside him, to the door he had entered. " Seems to be deathly afraid of something. You wouldn't happen to know what that something is... would you?" Leon asked, a quirk of a smile on his lips as he raised his cup of coffee. If nothing else, today was certainly going to be interesting.

oOc.: Well... after sitting on my arse for two years (Granted most of that was in fact working frantically in retail) I've managed what I think is a decent reply! I hope you like it, and I am really REALLY sorry for making you wait this long! Now... onto other RPs!:.

[Relairah]

OoC: Well I can hardly say anything as I also took a few months to reply! I'm glad you've been able to get back in and I'm excited to do the same! That's a huge part of why we made this place - to have the same feel of the SO days but also allow people to deal with their craziness and still be able to come back and roleplay!

Also, feel free to take it off however if an idea strikes you I have a couple of things but want to see how it goes!

iC:

At this point, Vincent could hardly speak. He opened his mouth, but all that came out were mutters and stammers. He watched as the others in the diner all left, his skin only growing more clammy if that were possible. His sweat felt cold against his spine. The offer his hunter had made, not to spill blood... now that it was just them, how much time did he have left?

Ezekial once more showed expression when Greg brought the sandwich he had ordered. He nodded toward the other, and with the same air of composure ate the meal. He was getting a bit more satisfaction than he should have, watching Vincent squirm while he calmly continued. Perhaps it was the predator in him. As soon as he was done, he glanced toward the man on the opposite side of his prey when he spoke up. Mutual friend, huh? That was interesting. Ezekial also hadn't failed to note the non-verbal exchange between this man and Greg, though of course, he couldn't truly understand its meaning. He paused about halfway through his sandwich.

He briefly debated how to respond, but then decided to get straight to the point. He grinned, the slightest glimmer of one of his fangs showing as he stared Vincent straight in the face. "Well, good sir, I believe that would be me." He left a bill on the counter, giving a brief nod toward Greg, and then also nodded toward Leon. "Perhaps you'll excuse us for just a moment?" He gripped Vincent's other shoulder, the slimy man almost crumbling as he cringed. "You know," Ezekial murmured in hushed tones as he pushed Vincent forcefully toward the door, "The wanted poster said 'dead' or 'alive'."

Just before exiting, he raised his other hand. "I promise not to leave a mess," he said, glancing back in particular toward Greg, and then moving out the door, the bell jingling once again.

As soon as they were outside, Ezekial's movements became a blur and he moved into the shadows. The sandwich was delicious, but it wouldn't truly fill him. At least the blood of this lowly scum was better to devour than taking the life of an innocent. That's what he was, after all. A bounty hunter, who wouldn't be bothered by authorities if he snacked on the criminals wanted. He also hoped to make this over quickly, now that the hunt was done. He still needed to finish the sandwich, even if he'd left the bill on the counter already.

With a swift motion, he sank his fangs into Vincent's neck, the man's body going limp. Just as soon as he finished his sandwich, he'd make the delivery downtown, along with the poster, of course. He made his way back to the shop, hoping the rest of his meal hadn't been thrown away.

[Leon]

"Well, good sir, I believe that would be me." The man said, smirking and revealing a long eye-tooth. "Perhaps you'll excuse us for just a moment? You know, the wanted poster said 'dead' or 'alive'."

The man had reached into his pocket and produced a few bills, more than ample for the cost of the meal. Leon knew, however, exactly what his new... "compatriot" was without needing an explanation. A vampire. One of the ultimate night hunters and predators. And, needless to say, but a fearsome adversary, especially since this one was, from Leon could gather, a bounty-hunter. The only thing that left Leon wondering as the hunter basically picked up and herded Vincent from the diner was how the hunter walked during the day? The last thing the man said before the door tinkled closed was  "I promise not to leave a mess," glancing back at Greg with a raised hand. Leon rolled his eyes and smirked. A mess was the last thing that Greg cared about, Leon knew this personally. Greg had been the squad's heavy fire support. Toting some of the military's largest and deadliest man-portable weapons, not to mention the ones with the largest magazines, Greg was perfectly comfortable with hunkering down and laying claim to an place. Food, bullets and various other things he would carry on him would spread out around him, as if they were claiming the surrounding vicinity as his own. Leon almost laughed at a recalled memory in which Alice, his unbeknownst at the time sister, compared Greg to that of a pig in slop, to which he replied that at least he knew how to cook better than anyone else. Leon's attention snapped back to his musings as the two had left.

Daywalker? Half-blood? Experiment? I've seen, worked with, and fought some of these guys before, but only at night. Not something I want to do any time soon again... Leon mused as he sipped his coffee.

The television buzzed overhead as the news came on again, but the distraction held nothing for Leon currently. He was busy looking at the screens on his sunglasses watching the events that unfolded just-outside of the diner. Placing a small electronic mark on both of the two men who had just left the diner on his HUD, Leon watched with a slightly struggled breath as the two blurred and moved at an incredible speed. The two had moved nearly half a block away, far away from any would-be watchers, and arrived in a shadowed alleyway between three obscuring buildings. The distance traveled non-withstanding, it was what happened next that made Leon almost start. Knowing that they were out of sight, the mark that Leon had placed on the hunter turned to the mark of Vincent, and proceeded to... do something... Leon could guess what that something was, but the act was what made Leon question the motives here.

Well, that's a hell of a way to take down a target... Yikes man... I heard about the thirst, but in the middle of the day? On that scum? Either desperation, or something. Have to make a mental note not to get on the bad side of this one. Leon thought, watching the entire thing on his feed.

Leon was lucky to have HARVI. With the slightest thought, Leon could pull information up regarding whatever he wanted and display it on the HUD of his sunglasses. A small neural transmitter rested next to his temple in the shades, sending the signals to HARVI, who could process the information lightning quick, and relay the requested info back to Leon however he needed. It wasn't only the availability of information that Leon had access to, either. Satellite telemetry, broadcasts, and tracking data streamed in high definition to his shades. Placing marks on people was a simple thing, and following them was easier, but watching some of the things his marks did, or in this case, could do, sometimes made Leon wonder why he did it.

Leon finished his cup of coffee and pushed his plate forward. Taking a small breath to steady himself, Leon noticed that the stranger had only partially finished his meal.

"Might want to put some plastic wrap over that sandwich Greg. Something tells me that our new friend is gonna be back for it." Leon said, smiling and gratefully accepting a new mug of coffee.

Of the many adventures Leon had had across the many worlds he had seen, dealing with Vampires was something he had never gotten used to. How Lloyd had gotten used to their company still marveled Leon, but then again, most of the vampires he had met, and fought, were distinctly rooted in the Victorian and Gentry philosophies. This one was different, Leon was sure. But then again, there was no telling what kind of personality one could have when they may have lived a hundred times Leon's age. The only thing to do now, was sit back, drink his coffee, and wait to find out. On the bright side, at least it was Tuesday.

oOc: Okay! So, having kept you waiting for ANOTHER BLOODY YEAR (give or take a few weeks) I've finally managed a half-decent reply! I apologies for the lateness of this post. Things have been just so bloody up and down that getting time to sit down and write on here has been non-existent. I know that everyone on here is busy, but I hope that everyone is well. And, I've been looking back at this RP and its gotten me into the writing spirit as of late! So, thanks for that! I hope this is a good post for you, and as always, if something doesn't work, or its disjointed (seeing as it might be because its been freaking forever) let me know and I'll do my best to fix it! Cheers!