As I stammered out an explanation about "just passing by," Léon's brow furrowed even more. He didn't respond, simply looking down to organize his weapons as if my presence was insignificant.
The air grew uncomfortably silent. I stood there, feeling like an extra in the wrong scene, barely daring to breathe. The young girl, Mathilda, clung to Léon's sleeve, eyeing me warily. She whispered, "Who's he? Is he an enemy?"
"Not exactly an enemy… but not a friend either," Léon replied coldly, his gaze never leaving the gun in his hands.
I awkwardly rubbed my nose, laughing dryly. "Not a friend, fair enough. But can I at least be 'just a passerby'? I'm a harmless guy, really."
Léon glanced up at me, his expression full of doubt. "Harmless? In a place like this, being harmless will only get you killed faster."
I inwardly winced, but forced myself to stay calm to avoid being kicked out. "Uh, right… well, in that case… maybe I'll just pretend I was never here? I can keep a one-meter distance at all times."
He scoffed, clearly unimpressed, and muttered to Mathilda, "Keep an eye on him. If he acts suspiciously, let me know immediately."
Mathilda nodded, her eyes still fixed on me, as if I were a potential threat. I tried to give her a friendly smile, but it seemed she wasn't convinced.
Standing in the corner, I kept my distance and did my best to look harmless and unobtrusive, while quietly planning my next move to approach this guarded "pair."
A few minutes later, we reached the entrance of an abandoned factory. Léon quickly surveyed the surroundings and, after confirming it was safe, gestured for us to enter. Just as I was about to follow, he turned back, his voice cold. "You stay outside."
"Outside…?" I hesitated, looking around the shadowy, deserted surroundings of the factory. A chill ran down my spine. "I'm really not suited for creepy places like this…"
Léon shot me a steely look. Getting closer to these "companions" clearly wasn't going to be easy. I forced a smile and nodded. "Alright, but if you need help, just remember—"
The door slammed shut, leaving me alone outside.
"Great, off to a fantastic start…" I muttered, leaning against the wall, strategizing on finding another way in.
As I leaned against the wall, staring at the tightly shut factory door, I couldn't help but think, "How did these two end up together? One is as cold as ice, and the other, so young, looks far too experienced for her age. This pairing is either very special or seriously messed up."
Remembering the hitman's frigid demeanor and the little girl's determined, almost defiant gaze, I couldn't resist mentally grumbling, "Is she serious? Hanging around with this guy, who looks like he doesn't care about anyone."
"Then again," I muttered to myself, "the guy does seem oddly protective of her… as if he's a… hopeless case of attachment…"
I froze mid-sentence, looking around nervously, suddenly worried someone might have overheard me. If Léon heard me describe him like that, I'd probably be leaving this world faster than I'd like.
Just as I was muttering about their strange relationship, the factory door suddenly cracked open. I cut off my monologue, noticing Mathilda standing in the doorway, glaring at me with a hint of disdain.
"What are you mumbling about?" she asked, raising an eyebrow with a mix of curiosity and… mockery?
"Uh, nothing, nothing!" I waved my hands, trying to act casual.
She snickered, crossing her arms. "Looks like you're pretty useless, just standing here babbling like a jobless bum."
Her words stung, and I awkwardly scratched my nose, thinking, "Wow, this girl's got a sharp tongue. No mercy at all."
Mathilda seemed satisfied with my speechlessness, casting me a scornful glance before stepping back inside and shutting the door tight, as if to keep me from spilling any more gossip.
"Well… that went well," I sighed, resigned to standing outside, quietly vowing, "If gaining their trust is this hard, I'll just have to prove myself."
I leaned against the wall, chuckling to myself. "Alright then, proving myself… Maybe if I don't drag them down, I might just blend in."
Just as I started plotting how to earn their trust, I heard footsteps behind me. I quickly retreated into the shadows, observing the newcomers.
A group of men in black suits approached the factory with steady, practiced steps. Holding my breath, I carefully stayed hidden, watching their movements.
The leader stopped at the factory door, signaling the others to spread out and encircle the building. My pulse quickened. These men were clearly no ordinary thugs; they looked like the trackers Léon and Mathilda were evading.
"We know you're in there!" the leader shouted, his voice icy and devoid of emotion. "Hand over the girl, or no one gets out alive!"
I gritted my teeth. If I didn't do something, these men would storm in, and Léon and Mathilda might be overwhelmed.
Just as I debated drawing their attention, I spotted Léon's figure in the factory window. He glanced outside, then quickly disappeared, likely preparing for a counterattack.
Seeing him gave me an idea. Given these men's intentions, I had to act. Slipping out of the shadows, I put on my best "innocent bystander" face and called out to the men in black.
"Hey, guys, sorry to interrupt," I raised my voice, clearing my throat. "But blocking the door like this might violate some public safety code, right? Keep this up, and the old man next door will definitely call the cops."
The leader of the men froze, glaring at me with clear irritation. "Who are you? Move along!"
As the men in black focused on me, Léon seized the moment. He reappeared in the window, his eyes like a hawk as he aimed, firing without hesitation!
Bang! The first shot echoed through the air as one of the men clutched his shoulder, stumbling back with a shout. Léon's sharp shooting threw their formation into disarray. They clearly hadn't expected such decisive action, and panic flickered across their faces.
"Damn it!" one of them shouted, and they quickly sought cover. Some hid behind an abandoned vehicle near the factory, others crouched low, moving swiftly, trying to position themselves to counterattack.
Léon quickly assessed their locations, taking advantage of their momentary distraction, and fired again. Bang! Bang! Another two men fell, and the remaining ones seemed even more fearful of his accuracy.
"This guy's no amateur!" one of them murmured, a tremor in his voice.
"Damn it! He's a pro!" another cursed, gripping his gun, tense and wary, clearly thrown off by Léon's calm dominance.
At that moment, I took advantage of their concentration on Léon, sneaking around to provide some cover. I noticed one of the men trying to flank the factory from the side, clearly intending to ambush Léon. I couldn't stand by, so I quietly picked up a discarded piece of metal.
"Hey!" I suddenly shouted. The man flinched, looking back, giving me a chance to hurl the metal at him. His hand shook, and he dropped his gun. I immediately charged forward, slamming into him and knocking him to the ground.
My action instantly caught the attention of the other men, and my heart leaped into my throat. "Great, I might die here…"
Just then, Léon fired again, hitting one of the men aiming at me. The others, now flustered, retreated to cover, briefly deadlocked.
I exhaled in relief, muttering, "This hitman's the real deal…"
Léon shot me a cold glance, as if to say, "Keep quiet." I nodded quickly, standing in position and trying not to cause any more trouble. I finally realized that this man's cold demeanor wasn't just an act—it was the mark of a true professional on the edge of life and death.
The intense gunfight continued as I took cover again. Léon remained unfazed, shooting with an almost surreal precision. Meanwhile, I discreetly checked my trembling legs, amazed at the calm artistry with which he fought, compared to my amateur performance.
Suddenly, I noticed a man in black sneaking to a high vantage point, preparing to ambush Léon from above. Tense, I grabbed a nearby brick, hurling it with all my strength toward him.
Clang! The brick struck the metal frame, creating a loud clang. The man jolted in surprise, nearly losing his footing and misfiring his shot.
Léon seized the opportunity, eyes locked on the target, and fired. Bang! The man fell from his position, eliminated.
Léon cast me a quick, sardonic glance. "Not entirely useless."
I rolled my eyes, muttering, "Hey, you think throwing bricks is easy? It's all about precision and power." I couldn't help but shake my sore arm, feeling it had been a workout I hadn't anticipated.
Léon merely scoffed, clearly unimpressed, while Mathilda peered out, laughing softly. "Interesting tactic, 'Brick Thrower.'"
I raised a brow. "Don't underestimate the brick. It's the only thing here as untrained as I am!"
Léon holstered his gun, heading back inside with a parting jab. "Without your noise, this would've been over faster."
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Without my distraction, do you think you'd have had it so easy? It's called teamwork!"
Mathilda laughed, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Teamwork? I thought we were dealing with an accidental bricklayer."
I grinned, waving her off. "Exactly! Bricklaying is part of the job too. And I throw them like a pro."
Léon shook his head with a mocking smirk. "Don't get too cocky. Next time, if you're out of bricks, can you stay that 'professional'?"
I shrugged nonchalantly. "Then I'll use crowbars, pipes, even garbage cans—adapt and overcome!" I proudly patted my shoulder as if I'd won a gold medal.
Mathilda chuckled, muttering under her breath, "Alright, first-rate goofball."