Leon opened his eyes and scanned the room. Something was wrong. Something was subtly, slightly off about his small rented hovel. A slight breeze stirred his plant, though he was sure he had closed the window when he turned off the lights for the night.
Without moving, Leon flicked his eyes to the end-table for his pistol… only to see that it was gone.
No need to worry; Leon was a professional. He could take on whoever was in the apartment with him without anything so clumsy as a pistol. If the stupid would-be assassin hadn't shot him when he had stolen his gun, then he deserved to be sliced up by Leon.
Turning his head slightly to the left, he noticed the open window the assassin must have entered through. The threadbare curtain puffed in the slight breeze. There was a harsh clicking sound in Leon's ear.
"Don't move." The voice was young, roughened slightly by cigarettes. Leon could smell the faint odor underneath the man's mouthwash. He could smell hair gel and… some kind of cologne. Leon had never had time to bother with niceties like those. Not moving, Leon cleared his throat.
"Are you here to clean me?" he asked in his halting English. There was silence behind him for a few moments. Then the younger man sighed. "It's not me. It's no personal… it's only business. You understand."
Leon nodded. "Yes, I do."
The young man moved in front of Leon. "I heard you were killed a while back; you blew up a good-sized chunk of a building downtown. How did you survive the blast?"
Leon sized the man up. He was about 33 or 34. He had jet-black hair and an expensive silk suit. "What's your name, kid?" He asked softly.
The young hitman hesitated, then shrugged. "Martin Blank."
Leon nodded. "I've heard your name, too. I almost took on your own hit, back when you blew up that dog a few years back."
Blank shook his head. "That was an accident. An expensive accident, but an accident nonetheless. How did you survive?"
Leon shrugged. "I had been shot in the neck. I was pretty sure I was going to die, and then Stansfield, the man who shot me, bent down to look at me. I handed him a grenade pin and while he looked at it, I shot him with a single-shot pistol. The explosion was a cover-up so everyone would think I was dead."
Blank blew out his cheeks, his eyes widening in surprise. "No wonder they never found your body. Everyone assumed you had been disintegrated."
Leon arched his eyebrow. "My English isn't so good."
"Sorry; um, turned to ash."
The two men stared at each other in the dim light. Finally, Leon cleared his throat again. "Well, are you going to do it?"
Blank blinked twice, then shook his head.
"No. No, I'm not. I respected you when I was a kid. You were one of my idols. I'll just tell my boss I never found you."
Blank placed Leon's pistol on the table and walked around behind him to the window.
"My advice? Get out of town, Leon. I could have shot you while you were sleeping. Didn't anyone ever tell you it's dangerous not to keep an eye open at night?"
Leon stiffened for a moment.
"One girl did, once."
Silence.
"Blank?"
He was gone.