I don't own the Saint or Harry Potter, both are written by brilliant authors.
The Saint.
The Stranger of mystery.
Simon Templar was frowning as he watched from the back of his car at the joint where the Kingpin who'd sprung up in recent months had taken to using as his base of operations in the city. If Templar had been sitting in the front then he would've been seen, but from the back he couldn't, but he was sitting in the shadows, waiting for his opportunity. He saw, from his angle, the two ape like guards, both of them weren't armed, but Templar wasn't stupid enough to believe they weren't capable of tearing his body to pieces.
He checked his watch. 11.34. Another twenty minutes before he made his move. Templar leant back in his seat, frowning as he prepared himself for the boring and dull wait, but he didn't turn on the radio to listen to music or the news, the sound may attract attention, and he hadn't brought a book to read either. He needed his eyes and ears on the job, and surveilance needed altertness. He removed a nicotine patch from the box next to him, and slapped it on his forearm, closing his eyes as the drug did its work, and made him relax. He let out a long sigh. Templar didn't smoke, he didn't want his arteries clogged with the shite you found in cigarettes, and the patch meant he didn't have to force others to smell the crappy smell, and the bad breath and stench you got when you sat next to smokers on the bus or train was happily absent.
Simon checked his gun, making sure it was loaded, and holstered it, also checking on Anne and Bella, his two daggers. They were ready.
At 11.54, Templar made his move, and marched towards the guarded doors, looking around as he did. The two thugs, ordered to allow members through, didn't bother looking at the stranger who'd walked through their doors. The stranger in the long trenchcoat, rakishly tilted hat, and the dark glasses may've appeared suspicious to anyone else, but the thugs did not stop him.
Templar was happy about that, he'd been nervous watching from his car. He'd thought he might be needing a bulletproof vest made from concrete. As he walked through the corridors of the restaurant, Templar listened as he walked through, listening for other people coming towards him or walking away. Templar was surprised that no one had frisked him, but he couldn't help but feel the new Kingpin was a complacent fool.
Finally Templar arrived at the double doors where the meeting was, and there was a guard standing outside. He was more like a gorilla in a suit. As Templar approached and was about to walk into the room, the gorilla stopped him. " Yous gotta be searched." The mans voice was like partially dried cement grinding together with gravel.
" Of course," Templar replied amiably, holding his arms out as if he wanted to hug the guard, although he was sure his arms wouldn't go all the way around. The guard came over to him, sniffing as he came. Simon rolled his eyes as he realised the ape was sniffing his aftershave and his deoderant.
" It's lynx," he added helpfully.
The guard looked up, a puzzled frown on his slow, crinkled face, " Lynx?"
" Yes, it helps attracts the ladies," Templar replied helpfully and kindly.
The guard nodded confusedly, and Simon knew he wasn't going to meet his next chess buddy here. As the guard bent down again to search the stranger, that was when Templar struck with Bella, which he used to drive into the man's skull.
The Kingpin was just starting the meeting when Templar walked in. Like a schoolroom, the Kingpin's assistant, a blonde haired buxom woman wearing a short skirt and a top that showed her cleavage, gritted her teeth and read out the 20 names. She hated being here, and she hated how her boss had simply roped her out of school, and made her into his whore.
When she finished, the Kingpin stood up. He was a fairly youngish man in his early twenties, which was why the girl had been roped in because of how good looking he was. He had started his career doing drugs, moving onto prostitution, then into smuggling and other criminal activities, even murder and assasination. Mark Leisner had grown up in a slum when he'd joined drug gangs, smuggling crack and cocaine to kids, and took his fair share to help him through school and college, and he started to see himself as superior than any one else, even the sons of bitches in front of him, and the stupid slut he had roped in to be his fuckslave. He believed he had a class no other criminal possessed. He dressed in the best clothes, dined at the best restaurants where the managers fell over themselves to serve him, no matter how packed they were, and he went to the cinema each week. He lived in a classy apartment on the river, and he drove the fastest cars.
" We have a problem," Leisner announced. " The Saint."
Everyone looked at each other with awe and fear at the name Saint. The Saint had been an element in the underworld for years, a criminal genius who robbed banks but no one had been able to figure out how he managed it, smuggling operations that went wrong when the money went missing, and the merchandise fell into the hands of the police.
The crooks in London, and indeed everywhere where the Shadow of the Saint fell, a childish scrawl of a stickman figure with a stupid halo marked the scene of his crimes, and where criminals feared to tread. The Saint was not like other criminals, he had no need for gangs or help, it was just him. And he left no survivors of his raids.
If the Saint was sniffing around, it meant trouble. Each of the men present had been well rewarded by Leisner, and they knew that if the Saint appeared, they would lose everything including their lives.
Leisner leant forward, " So, here what we-" He was stopped when the doors were kicked open, and a tall, black clad man strode in with a rakish hat and a coat appeared, holding a bloodied knife. The girl screamed.
" No worries, sweets," the man said in a fake Australian accent. " I ain't gonna hurt you." In a regular accent, he carried on, his voice dark and cold. " The rest, not so sure about."
The stranger turned to face Leisner, and finally he turned his head up slightly so then the drug lord could see the lips and tanned skin of the stranger. " Imagine you were running scared, desperate. You set up a meeting in secret. Imagine you were preparing for revenge, but just before you start, you look up when the door opens, and your precious protection is no more, and you find the face of the devil himself. Hello, Kingpin." As the voice had been speaking, the man looked up and everyone saw the green eyes, the black hair and the angularly handsome face.
Leisner was breathing hard, " Saint?"
The Saint smiled genially at them all, some of them were starting to take out their guns, but the Saint was ready for that, and he gathered his energy for the fight. " The one, the only," he winked, " and the best."
All hell broke loose when before the Saint moved forward, and everyone started firing their weapons, but the Saint had grabbed hold of one of the gang leaders, and all the other leaders started firing, pumping bullets into the man's body. The Saint used the cover to fire from behind the man, using his angle to kill four of them before he threw the body aside, the girl still screaming in a corner.
The Saint leapt over the table, corkscrewing over to the other side, and throwing small blades into the air which impacted into the faces and chests of another four of the leaders before using Bella to slice the necks of two slow moving gang lords. Eleven down, nine to go. The Saint landed next to the table, and three of the thugs were startled by his sudden presence, but they managed to regain their senses to open fire on him. The Saint shot under the table like a startled cat, grabbing a machine gun one of the leaders had left when he died, and the leaders started to fire bullets into the table. The nine surviving leaders concentrated their fire at the table, but they didn't expect what the Saint did next. Using the cover of the table, the Saint fired back without looking into the eyes of his enemies to do it. The leaders found themselves cut down by machine gun fire, like trees in a forrest cut down by their trunks. Brought down to his level, shocked, disorientated and losing blood, the leaders were either shot dead by the Saint, or he simply left them to bleed to death. It made no difference to him. The loss of his gang lords finally prompted Leisner to try and escape. He tried to run out of the room, but the Saint was quicker, and Leisner lost an ankle to the Saint's handgun.
Cautiously, the Saint crawled out of his hole and stood up, surveying what was once a meeting place. Some of the leaders were dead, or dying, and Leisner was bleeding. Hearing a sound from behind him, the Saint whipped around pointing the gun at the girl. Seeing her makeup smeared with tears, and her eyes full of fear, the Saint lowered his gun arm.
" What's your name?" He asked her.
" Jane. Jane Meadows." She replied.
The Saint eyed her, observing her age and taking in every little thing about her. " What're you doing here?"
Jane spat at Leisner, " That bastard happened. He had me watched, you see, and he had me grabbed on my way to school." The tears came down harder now for the girl, and the Saint moved towards her, holding out his arms. The girl fell into his embrace, and sobbed her heart out. " He raped me, had his gang rape me, then he made me into his personal sex toy. I want to go home."
The Saint whispered, " I think I can arrange that, but first I need to take care of business."
Jane Meadows shivered even though the Saint's car was warm and the mysterious criminal had made sure she had a blanket, but the Saint had made sure he'd locked the door so then she wouldn't get away. For the last few months Jane had been brutally raped and tortured by Leisner and his thugs, and then on the night of a meeting where he'd parade her up and down, a trophy, the whole lot of them were slaughtered by a one man army.
The Saint.
Jane had of course heard of the Saint, who hadn't? But seeing him was something completely different, and they weren't that far off, age wise, but she didn't make a comment on it since it was none of her business, and she was far too in shock about what had happened to her to care about anything else. All she wanted was to go home, and put this behind her, but she knew it wouldn't be that simple. She'd been raped, abused, tortured, she needed counselling, and badly. After the Saint had retrieved his weapons, they'd left the room, the pair of them had left the restaurant, the Saint had knocked the two thugs out when he pretended to show them something, an old trick but the thugs had fallen for it, hook, line and sinker. Then he had put her into his car, and locked the door but he had opened his boot, and then he'd left her and went back into the restaurant carrying a black bundle.
When the tall figure of the Saint returned, Jane nearly jumped out of her seat when she saw the Saint was carrying something, something big and heavy, but the weight did not seem to bother the Saint. Big enough to be...a body, he was carrying a body, she realised. Her mind raced as she tried to figure out who it was, then she realised it was probably Leisner, though why the Saint would bother with him was beyond her.
After the Saint had dropped off Jane at her home and watched as the family had a merry reunion, he drove off. The Saint wasn't the sort of man to take gratitude, besides he had work to do.
When he stopped his car at a closed Underground station, the Saint dragged Leisner's body from his car wearing his hat and big coat for disguise, and with a few minutes work, he managed to pick the lock of the gates, and drag the body down the escalators to the platforms below. The Saint treated Leisner with great care, and he had no hesitation in making sure he was still unconscious. When the Saint got the man down to the platform, he simply left the crime boss down there. He checked the man's neck and felt for his pulse. He was still, remarkably, alive and breathing, but it was shallow.
The Saint looked around, nodding. This was the perfect place for the crime lord to be found and besides before each station was opened they were always carefully checked over before the first train and customers arrived and they would reopen again in a few hours. Leisner had time, there was just one thing he needed to do first before he left.
Taking a spray from his pocket, he sprayed in blue paint his calling card.
The Saint had struck again.