I return! I hope this chapter comes as a good 'heya, I'm back' kind of thing. Pardon for taking so long; I've been up to my neck with other things, but as usual, I bring you this. ;)
Leon's sleep was disturbed, suddenly, and out of the visions of darkness and of nightmares he was driven awake. But his eyes were heavy, and he could not open them. His hearing came slowly until he realized a voice was calling to him; though not in any polite way, and followed by the sound of thunder and rain.
"Wake up!" shouted the voice in Spanish, sounding monstrous and hideous.
Leon's eyes opened slowly, when a flash of lightning caused his eyes to suddenly blink in pain. He held his hands in front of them, shunning the light.
"I said—" two steps and BOOM! A boot slammed into Leon's stomach. "GET UP!"
Leon groaned heavily in pain, grasping his stomach and forcing his eyes closed even more. But no, he could not stand up. He didn't even have the courage to open his eyes.
"No!" he cried; "Go away!"
He heard an angry growl from his abuser standing over him, and Leon readied for another kick to the stomach.
"Stop!" commanded another voice.
"But he will not wake!" exclaimed the abuser.
Leon could see through his lids slightly, now. Through them he saw a grey light flooding into the room from an open doorway, where standing was a tall dark man, and a smaller figure in front of him. His abuser, no doubt.
The dark man's hand came across the villager's face with a snap, and the force caused the villager to fall down to the ground. The dark man shook his head upon the villager, who then began hissing and then standing up again.
The dark man's attention now went onto Leon, for through the cracks of his eyelids Leon perceived this man to have a bald head which turned towards his direction. But no more could Leon discern from the silhouetted man, even as he walked slowly towards him.
As soon as the dark man was standing over him, Leon looked up with his weary eyes and up to the face. He could see him now. He was a bearded old man with many wrinkles upon his wearied face. Yet it was disfigured by unknown proportions, save for his eyes. While one was a dark hue of a hideous blue, the other was red and bloody, as though a great ache was in his eye. Leon could see them when the grey light from the door was over his shoulder.
It was the chief of this village, this Mendez.
Leon's eyes were still half closed. But he could see what the dark man was doing.
"Welcome to Europe, Mr. Stranger," the chief spoke in fluent English. His voice was like dark, yet clear of anything the voices of the villagers had. Yet because of that, Leon found his voice disturbing.
Leon said nothing.
Mendez nodded to himself, as though analyzing something in his mind. Then his big hands began to dig into his pockets. Leon eyed them.
"Well, stranger, these may not be Cuban…" Mendez uttered as he pulled out his big clenched hand and then unfolded it in front of Leon's face. In it was a pack of cigarettes.
"Would you like a smoke?" asked Mendez.
Leon was cautious.
"No… I prefer gum, myself."
Mendez paused for a moment, before his head nodded again and the pack of cigarettes was in his cape.
Leon spoke: "What are you?"
Mendez blinked at Leon in surprise. "You mean who, amigo?"
Leon couldn't play this game; he played it all the time when he was in California.
"I mean what, and what are you is what I asked!"
Mendez was quiet. Leon's abuser snarled at him threateningly. But Mendez made a single look at the villager and he was silent. Then the big chief turned back to Leon.
He bent down onto his great knees to make himself at eye level with Leon. Leon, however, dared not to look into his eyes.
"Who are you?" asked Mendez.
Leon said nothing.
"Look at me!" Mendez ordered, grabbing Leon by the jaw and forcing his attention onto his face. "Who are you! What are you doing here in this place!"
Leon was resistant.
"I could ask the same, because I just woke up in here."
Mendez's face twitched slightly, and then his nose flared. Leon expected him to start hitting him, and in fact leaned his face one side to allow it.
However, Mendez face calmed, and he regained his control. He never once looked away from Leon, looking deep into his eyes.
"You have a lot of power in your hands, stranger," Mendez said, convincingly. "I never thought a man like you could drown the King of the Waters so well, or fend off a whole village full of Ganados," a smile came across his face. "But he was right about you. You are… different."
"Who is 'he'?" Leon asked. "Your leader, or is he the other eye?"
Mendez actually started to laugh. Leon's abuser behind Mendez was silent, and kept a threatening look at him.
Leon had to smile as well.
"Oh, you Americans are so funny," Mendez commented.
"What makes you think I'm American? I could be French."
"Now you're just sounding stupid, like all other Americans."
Leon scowled. "You sure got the guts to diss the U.S. of A."
"And you say you're not a part of it?"
"Hey, was Umbrella?"
Mendez grinned. "But Umbrella was a daydreamer. They could never gain what they hoped for, using your people like that."
Leon suddenly became curious. "How do you know about Umbrella? I don't think they'd tell that kind of thing in Euro-Television."
"Television is for the ignorant, stranger. You can never get enough of what you want out of it."
"You watch the Playboy channel, then?"
"You have a smartass mouth, stranger."
"And you've got one heckevan eye."
Mendez shook his head. Behind him, Leon's abuser started to curse at him.
"Fracaso!" shouted Mendez as he turned to him. "You may leave now. And don't you expect me to be happy when I see you again."
Fracaso the abuser was flabbergasted. But he obeyed, and he left; though he snarled at Leon before he left.
Mendez turned back to Leon, sighing. "That was my son. He is… a very arrogant young man."
"And a lot more from what I've seen from his friends."
Mendez glared at him. "No. He's not like them. He… simply does not understand how to do what I want him to do."
"Why doesn't his mother help him understand?"
"I… my wife is dead." Mendez looked down.
Leon was silent. "I'm sorry."
Mendez looked at him curiously. "What have you to be sorry for? You and I are not friends."
"Yes. I don't like you one bit, not at all. I feel quite disturbed by your ugly eyes, you definitely need a shower, and I believe you are slightly mad. But, enemies, despite their differences, can learn to respect each other, even if they are great enemies."
Mendez stared at him. Leon thought that would have at least given the man some sense…
Suddenly, Mendez hand grabbed at Leon's neck with an intense grip, causing him to go into shock. Leon's hands shot up and grabbed at Mendez hand, hoping to break free. But his grip was like rock, and he couldn't get free.
"What the…!" gasped Leon. "But… but…"
"You should not underestimate us, amigo," said Mendez; "we are worst than Umbrella."
Leon didn't want to die this way. He struggled to break the fingers of Mendez' hand, but his fingers fumbled over the stone-like fingers that steadily increased, just strong enough to crack his head off his spine.
…his eyes finally managed to peak open at last.
Mendez suddenly let go. His eyes widened with awe as Leon squirmed away, grabbing at the air for his breathing and to get away from Mendez.
But Leon looked on Mendez in wonder. What caused him to let go?
Mendez stood up again, tall and dark. "I see… you carry the same blood as us."
Leon sat startled upon the uneven ground inside some dark hutt gazing up at the dark man in wonder, and confusion.
"The… what…?" Leon gasped through panting breaths.
Mendez was quiet. And then he turned to the grey light, stopping just before leaving. Then he looked at Leon for a moment, before he left; and the door slammed, shutting out all the light.
…but aside from the fact all the light was gone, Leon could still see slightly into the dark; he could see simple farming tools strewn around the room, hanging off of the walls and lying against them. He saw the different kinds they were; axe, scythe, saw… and even chainsaw.
"Wha… what did… he mean by that?" Leon said, his breathing coming back to him.
He stood up carefully, his legs feeling wobbly. He walked up to the door, gently grasped the doorknob and twisted. But it went barely an inch; it was locked.
"No…" he uttered.
He tried budging it with his body; but it didn't budge. Then he tried more forcefully, but then a huge pain came from his abdomen. That Fracaso gave him something to remember him by, well.
Leon threw his back against the wall in response to this pain, sinking down to the ground and grasping his abdomen. He grunted and sighed, looking hopelessly into the dark, hoping to find something for help.
Then he saw it gleaming at him, hanging from the wall, innocently but bearing a great importance somewhat. It was a simple mirror about a foot long and six inches wide. There was something reflected on it that he saw.
He stood slowly, moving towards the mirror. What was it he saw in it? What was it?
But when he was finally looking at it from up close, he saw himself. Nothing more.
Yet there was something different about him. He looked different. He was pale, and very well tired. Yet that wasn't it.
Strikingly enough, those were only side notes.
What came as a huge concern were his eyes, bearing somewhat a red appearance.