A/N: Hi all! I know I should be working on my other story, but I've hit a road block and I have a three day weekend so… continuing with this story!

Disclaimer: For lack of anything better to do with the space in between the author's note and the story, I will say this: I do not own Trinity Blood.

Leon waited with baited breath as he watched three figures move among the three small, fast boats. They were shadowed, but their profiles define. He could shoot them now and be done with it. But of course he, as a priest, would never do that.

Silently, he flipped from the top of the outcropping to hang in the entrance of the cave. From there, he swung and landed on a rock with a soft skid, avoiding the water below. This happened in the span of two seconds.

The first two boats on Leon's right were a small skiffs, barely large enough to hold ten men. From the look of them, they had been in the water for quite awhile; the paint was faded, barnacles clung to the bottoms, and the salt water and dampness of the cove had eaten at the wood planking, corroding it. The boats would not make land, if they were used.

The second was fairly large, a new-shiny, craft with a motor. Despite its new design (Portuguese, if Leon remembered correctly), it would barely hold half the men that were in the camp. It did not matter, however. If Leon knew corrupt Methuselah (and he did), the vampire in charge would choose a select few to accompany him on the boats, and it would only be the very strongest with the best guns or the most pathetic looking to bargain with anyone who captured him. Or both. It was not relevant to the Methuselah which ones would live of die, so long as it was on the living side.

Leon edged his way along the ledge of the cave, crawling on his fingers, knees and feet. The water lapped at his coat, and he made a point of keeping his left side well away from the water, to keep both his reports and gun powder dry. As he did, ripples from something disturbed the small waves from the bobbing boats. He looked down.

And almost retched.

There, just beneath the surface of the water, was the bloated face of a person… or what was left of him. His corpse was horribly disfigured with cuts and swollen from hours in the salt water. The killing blow had been to the chest, where something hit the now-missing heart. Leon was not sure if the killer had ripped it out or fish had found an entrance and had eaten the organ.

Steeling himself against any more surprises, Leon moved forward, drawing almost level with the first boat. As one of the men walked from bow to stern and back again, Leon measured his timing. It took the man about a minute to walk the small boast from back to front. As his back turned to Leon, he chanced a look up. The other two men were sitting in the other small boat, playing a game of cards. If he listened, Leon could hear them betting their belts and rations.

Leon mentally cursed. Any movement, at least at this end of the book, would be seen by the other two, who were no doubt carrying guns. So, forward it was, then. Quickly, he wriggled out of his coat and set it down onto the ledge, sliding fully into the water. The man did not notice.

As he began to once again walk from bow to stern, Leon crawled-swam next to him. As they drew level and passed the cabin, Leon hopped with practiced grace onto the boat and drew into the shadows.

The man turned around and began walking again. He drew level with the cabin, and a fraction of a second later, his entire body was concealed behind it from the other men. He never stood a chance.

Silently, Leon reached out and caught the man around his neck, crushing his right forearm to the man's throat. Before the man had a chance to being flailing, Leon's free arm grabbed one of the man's arms and twisted until he heard a satisfying pop. He let go and did the same to other one; both arms hung limply at the man's sides as he kicked weakly, his body slowing down for lack of air. A less than a half minute later, he was barely moving at all. Leon set him down and felt his pulse. Still alive, just unconscious.

Meanwhile, the other men seemed to have noticed a change in their surroundings. It took them a moment more than any trained AX agent, but still a moment later, they were calling out to their comrade.

"Nick? Eh, Nick?"

Leon stood stock still as there was an irregular movement from one side of the boat. The men (both of them, by the way the boat had tipped) were on the vessel. He heard them calling out to 'Nick'.

"Eh! You better not be stuffing your face with rations again! This time we'll tip you over the boat fer real, jus' like Bobby!"

Leon clenched his fists, hoping to be able to just knock them out, but ready at the same time to draw his gun. Two sets of footfalls could be heard coming towards him quickly. As the first man's greasy face came around the corner, Leon's fist shot out. The man staggered backwards, and Leon was sure he was done for the day. He made short work of the other.

Leon leaned down to begin tying up the man, he heard a click. Things seemed to move in slow motion as he turned. The first man was holding an old-fashioned gun, like that of the days before Armageddon. Leon, knowing he would never be able to move fast enough, squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the pain.

A blast sounded.

Leon cried out in pain and opened his eyes as his blood squirted into the air, to land only a few seconds later to the deck.

The man fell to the ground.

Realizing he was not dead, but in excruciating pain, Leon cracked open an eye.

The familiar (and suddenly very welcome) silhouette of Tres met him. Tres walked from the opening quickly, and over to Leon. Leon looked down at himself, trying to pinpoint the place it was coming from. Within seconds, he found it.

Three inches below the knee.

Cursing, Leon pulled out a dagger. With expert skill he learned in his years in the military he dug out the bullet, making the wound only slightly worse, and let it fall to the ground. He ripped a long strip of cloth from his priest's habit and tied it around the wound to stop the bleeding and prevent sand from getting in it. He still had work to do.

"Father Leon, status report."

"Ah…" Leon glanced around him, "you killed one of them, I got the other two out cold. I'm all right." He grunted, lifting himself up.

"Health report, Father Leon."

"I'm fine, Tres," Leon said shortly.

"Positive."

As Tres began to walk towards the opening of the cove, Leon moved to follow him. With a hiss of pain, Leon fell onto one knee. He held the knee to his body for a moment, and then forced himself up. He still had work to do.

A/N: Review!