Chapter Text
Leon collected his stuff, body aching despite the relieving weight of his weapons. His mouth was parched, and he could barely recall the last time he had a form of liquid down his throat that wasn’t blood from rural village zombies that went to Bingo at church during noon.
Nevertheless, despite his discomfort, Leon’s mind was as alert as can be from being on duty for at least half a day without rest. His mission this time surely turned out to be quite the adventurous one, but it was on par with the payslip and weapons that the government endorses him with. Not that money was ever an issue for him; for almost a decade now, it was not money he needed to buy what he desired most.
He highly doubted even the bioweapons the researchers at Umbrella worked hard day and night developing could turn back time. It was an idle thought which he contemplated during a rare moment of peace; foraging for herbs and discarded bullet scraps as the sun set slowly, Leon was content to ignore the dull echo of chains he could almost hear from his most recent escapade.
Perhaps he was a bit more worn down than he initially believed. In close tandem, when his eyes had laid upon that flickering blue flame after leaving the warehouse he was locked in with Luis, he was almost convinced he’d accidentally slipped into a dream without realizing.
“Over here,” a masculine voice lured him over with a wave of a hand.
Leon paused briefly, cautious. “Who’re you?” he rasped, throat dry and gun propped.
There, between the two lit brightly totems, a distinctly human silhouette bowed theatrically.
The man’s head tilted upwards, which allowed Leon to clearly see the face beneath the pointy witch’s hat. It was not the sickly yellow irises and dull pupils the villagers at Valdelobos had, signifying their status as Ganados. The man was clearly still human - intelligence and clarity intact and all. Only, his eyes were lit with an eerie green reminiscent of glowing acid from some random action cartoon.
“Just a simple merchant; here to sell my wares,” the man introduced himself. With a distinct accent, Leon might add.
“Nobody told me the British liked to vacation in this sorry part of the world.”
“They do love a good summer break where it’s cheap every now and then,” the man nodded with good humour, robes rustling with the motion. Leon wondered how he kept them so clean. He felt like a literal piece of shit in comparison.
“I must insist you have a look. To spend some pennies for your life is a pretty good deal if I don’t say so myself.”
Leon was hesitant, which he was sure showed on his dirt-caked face despite the darkness that was quickly settling in.
“Has your mother ever told you about stranger danger?” Leon quipped, almost to fill the silence.
“My mother’s dead,” the mysterious merchant responded in a heartbeat.
“And so is mine,” Leon cocked his head before raising a brow.
A barking laugh is what Leon received in turn, loud and boisterous that it’s surprising they didn’t attract a horde of mindless villagers to their little corner of the world. The merchant’s laughter was deep and hearty, while keeping a strange youthful quality that fitted his boyish looks.
“What a touching coincidence. Then I hope she hasn’t taught you about stranger danger. I am just a simple merchant; so don’t be so weary, little griffin, I only want to help.”
The merchant then raised his hand, thumb and pointer finger touching to form a circle which he peered his unsettling gaze from - “And to earn a living where I can if you don’t mind. You can trust me.”
“Cut the crap,” Leon said gruffly, yet he subtly inspected the table of wares below. Surprisingly, it was quite a spread even for his standards. “Show me what you got.”
“With pleasure!”
Turns out, the merchant had some pretty good shit. Enough to raze down a village for sure, but perhaps not to the extent Leon could afford just yet. Fortunately, the villagers liked to leave their purses in the comfort of their pockets or the hovels they called a home. Leon helped himself generously, not a shred of guilt tearing through his conscience.
He finds his way around, crossing unpaved trails while leaving increasingly visible piles of bodies wherever he goes. The growing soreness in his entire body, from shoulders to legs and feet, only motivated him further to get this fucking mission done and over with so he could take an entire week off from duty. He had a slight inkling that this mission would be a long one, and it wouldn’t hurt to try to speed things up a little.
A man could only enjoy taking a shit and having to bury it in soil for so long, scratch marks fresh on his ass from the overgrown bramble.
Fuck, the things he’d do for a good night’s sleep.
The fights never seemed to end. Every step he took, there was simply another enemy to take directly down to hell itself. Leon personally detested the fuckers who’d think it was a good idea to throw bombs around on structures built from wooden planks and a prayer to Lord Saddler. Still, he considered it a win when he finally found the emblem needed to open the locked gates down below.
Leon made his way close to the nook where he met the merchant. The guy was still open for business, waiting idly with a book on hand. He noticed Leon’s disheveled appearance immediately and greeted him with a small smile. “Tough crowd?” the merchant asked cheekily.
“Slow day?” Leon snipped in response. The merchant had the audacity to look surprised at his words. Leon took out his knife and near slammed it on the wooden stall’s little table, “do you sharpen knives too?”
“Anything you ask, I can sell. Kind of the point about the business.”
“Do my job for me then,” Leon said bluntly.
“Except that,” the merchant shrugged his shoulders, expression uncaring, “but I do have some commissions for you if you’d like to earn a little extra on the side.”
Leon sighed, glancing towards the gate that was a few feet away. He shook his head and thought about Baby Eagle who was optimistically only half a foot in the grave by now, “It’s fine, I don’t have time.”
“It’s going to be dark soon, you’ll have to find a place to rest eventually. You’ll get sick from the stress without enough rest.”
“Are you my dead mom?” Leon’s head was throbbing, a faint pulse behind his eyes that he was confident wasn’t typical of a common cold. The merchant simply looked at him, lips a fraction downturned. “I’d be your dead dad if anything,” he said sullenly before pointing towards the direction of the gate.
“There’s two men looking for you behind those gates. Be careful.” He then slid Leon’s knife back to him; it looked brand new. “My treat - free of charge. I’ll see you.”
Leon pocketed his weapon obediently, but he fumbled to remember when in the conversation had the merchant left to sharpen his knife. “When the fuck did you-”
“Just now, like magic,” the merchant interrupted shortly, and refused to speak to him after that. Leon walked to the locked gates, inserted the lion’s head emblem, and cranked its heavy doors open. The merchant was right; there were two people patrolling the immediate area. He crouched and drew his knife, its blade glimmered softly in his hand.
It was about four bodies later when Leon realised he never told the merchant about his status as an orphan.