"You can't do this! I told you what you wanted!" Leon pulled away, furious. He wasn't some pet. He covered the wounds on his neck with his shaky hand, his fingers becoming wet with blood as he glared up at the older man.
"Regardless, my statement still stands. Sasha will give you a full tour of the facility. Do not get any ideas, because I can still make your life a living hell, Leon." With that Simmons left, leaving a very furious Leon behind to brood. What gave him the right? There was no way Leon would stay here and assimilate to Simmons' ways. He would find a way to escape.
It wasn't long before Sasha came for him, leading him away from the horrid, dark room.
"You should let me look at your wounds."
"I'm fine." Leon brushed the blond's hand aside. There was no point in being sour, but he warranted to having a bad attitude because everything that had happened. He was probably going to go stir crazy in this place anyways.
"You can wander wherever you'd like except the armory and you can't go outside, for obvious reasons i.e. making stupid decisions and trying to escape." Leon chuckled at that. It sounded like him.
"And how exactly am I supposed to defend myself against my fan service?" Leon chimed. He didn't doubt that there were more soldiers that would love to take a swing at him, or worse.
"Don't worry. After the weekend mostly everyone will be deployed. You'll have the place practically to yourself."
Leon scoffed. To himself, including Sasha, Simmons, and armed guards at every entrance. How homey. As they walked, he noticed camera's in the halls and in the corners of every room. Simmons, or someone, was probably watching his every move. He made mental notes of everything as the blond showed him nearly the entire facility. It consisted of: a cafeteria, gym, armory, sleeping quarters, games room, laboratory, hospital wing, shooting range, convenience store, and garage.
"And where exactly are we? I assume somewhere in the States."
Sasha seemed to consider whether or not he could answer. Leon raised his hands in an "I'm innocent" gesture and added, "It's not like I could escape if I wanted to." Reassured, the blond spoke.
"We're in a remote and off-limits part of the Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge. About two hours out of Washington D.C."
Leon sighed internally. He was so close to home. No one would even look for him here; after all he was last seen in Lanshiang, China. Well, no one would be looking anyways because everyone believed him to be dead.
"Unfortunately, our time together will be cut short. Simmons needs me to do research on the C-Virus."
"Hmph. I wonder why."
"Well, you know where everything is. Stay out of trouble, alright?" Leon watched as the blond took his leave. Even though he'd been here for more than two weeks, the building still felt very alien. He hadn't seen much except for the rooms he was kept in or the one familiar twisting hallway. Now nothing was off-limits to him except for the armory and outdoors, which left a world of possibilities for the agent. His stomach growled and reminded him of the hunger that had been gnawing at his insides for the past day and decided to head to the cafeteria. The windows were dark, and he could faintly make out the silhouettes of trees outside. There were only a few stragglers about at this time, either getting a late night snack or dozing at one of the tables. Leon grabbed a plate and began loading it with a little bit of every dish. His internal clock was all screwed up and he was wide awake at the moment. It would probably take a couple days to get used to.
Leon sat at one of the tables and took a bite of the food, chewing slowly. What the hell was he saying? In a couple days he would (hopefully) be out of here. He swallowed and stared at the food. What exactly did he have to go back to? The odds of him getting sent back into the field were slim to none. He was probably going to be interrogated for several hours for killing the president alone, and then interrogated some more for (hopefully) killing the head of security. His friends and comrades were probably still fighting the outbreak of the C-Virus in China, if they were still alive. He took another bite of the food, not tasting the flavors. Some distant, annoying thought at the back of his mind said perhaps it wasn't so bad staying here. Aside from being on constant watch 24/7 and being Simmons personal playing, it wasn't that bad when he wasn't being constantly tortured. In a way it kind of reminded him of the police academy he attended when he was training to become a cop. He forced the rest of the food down and set the dirty dishes in the bin provided before taking a walk. He made a quick stop in one of the restrooms, washing the wounds on his neck and inspecting them in the mirror. There were three sets of teeth marks noticeable at the edges of each, the wounds red and inflamed. Leon found himself wishing he'd accepted Sasha's offer. The risk for infection was high from a zombie bite, especially one that had another person's blood already in its mouth. Last thing he needed was to have to spend time in the hospital wing.
The halls all seemed the same and it took Leon awhile before he got his bearings and remembered where he was. Unintentionally, he found himself heading towards the shooting range. He pushed his way inside and looked around, no one present except for the arms dealer who was leaning on the back two legs of his chair, feet up and eyes shut. The man was older, but had the look of a hardened marine or veteran. As Leon approached his eyes opened and he let out a small chuckle.
"Come to do some late night shooting?"
"Yeah, I guess so."
The man eyed him for a long moment before standing and producing a key, unlocking a gun cabinet and reaching inside. He turned back to Leon, setting a Desert Eagle Mark XIX on the counter between them along with a box of 100 rounds of ammunition and a couple target sheets.
"Standard shooting range rules apply, assuming you're no novice. Also, doors locked so don't try and run out on me, yeah?"
Figures. Run once and everyone treats you like some sort of convict. Leon grabbed the things and walked to the farthest stall, setting them on the small counter and pressing the call button. He hooked up one of the targets before sending it back, a standard black silhouette of a man with two rings of targets, one on the chest and one on the head. Each had several smaller circles within them, the center of both rings marked with an x that wasn't more than an inch around.
Leon grabbed the pistol, admiring it as he ejected the empty clip. The metal had a shiny chrome finish, accented by a rich, dark chocolate oak grip and equipped with basic iron sights. It was a nice gun, but more powerful than he neither liked nor was used to. Having such strong kick on a weapon was inefficient as it would quickly make your wrists and shoulders ache, and wasn't ideal for long-term use, especially out in the field. He took his time, enjoying the familiarity of keeping his hands busy with the weapon. He would have enjoyed disassembling, cleaning and reassembling it, but that was for another time. He set the gun down and opened the ammunition box, grabbing a few bullets and pushing them into the clip. Once full, he pushed the clip back into the weapon and cocked it, then flicked off the safety.
Arms before him, bent slightly at the elbows, Leon aimed the pistol, holding it in his right hand. The weapon shook in his hold, not much but enough that he noticed it and it would affect his aim. He'd been trembling slightly since he was attacked by the zombie. Although he was relaxed, he was still shaken by the traumatic event. It would probably take a couple days to get over and hopefully no longer. He braced his grip with his other hand, his fingers aching as he attempted to curl them. Instead, he opted for resting his right arm on his left, in a tactical position. It helped reduce the shakiness a bit and he took a deep breath, focusing on the "x" marked in the center of the silhouette's head. He could hear the sound of the door opening and slow, calculated footsteps approaching, stopping somewhere behind him. He knew exactly who it was without looking, keeping his focus on the target 75 feet ahead of him. He fired, the bullet piercing the very edge of the silhouette's head.
"Damnit," Leon hissed angrily, lowering the weapon. He'd been a sharpshooter for a fair amount of his life, a master at using a variety of pistols. He could get a headshot without trying and hitting the center of the target should have been an easy task. He cursed internally at himself, angry at both having missed, and having his enemy witnessing it. If it was Simmons he was shooting at, he probably wouldn't have missed. He didn't move as the older man's pressed up against him from behind, reaching around and covering Leon's hand with his own. Leon didn't move, allowing Simmons to make him raise the weapon. He could feel Simmons' hot breath caressing his ear, sending uncomfortable shivers down his spine. Simmons free hand slid down his side, gripping his waist and pulling their bodies flush together. Leon looked at Simmons over his shoulder, the older man smirking back and him before looking back down the range. Leon did the same, his hand held steady by Simmons firm grip. He pulled the trigger several times, firing the remaining 11 bullets into the target without hesitating. His hand was released and to his dismay, there was a large hole in the space where the "x" had been. Every shot hit right on mark.
Suddenly Leon was spun around and hot lips were pressed against his own. His eyes widened in shock and he hesitated, unsure of what to do. His fingers curled around the hilt of the gun tightly, hard enough to make his knuckles turn white. It would be so easy to kill Simmons, right here, right now. The world would be such a better place without his existence. As the older man's lips pressed more roughly, more hungrily against his own, his body pushing Leon up onto the counter and slipping between his thighs, he found himself unable to raise the weapon against Simmons. Killing Simmons would mean a certain death for him, and he still planned on escaping with his life. His moment would come, but not yet. He released the weapon, instead wrapping his arm around Simmons' shoulders and running his fingers into the back of his thick brown hair. There was no point in fighting it, he would only waste his energy and Simmons would overpower him anyway. He'd never admit it openly, but it was nice feeling pleasure for once. After so many days filled with agonizing pain, it was comforting and relieving being able to indulge himself. He still hated Simmons with every fibre of his being, but that hate was accented with both need and more confusing underlying emotions.
Leon finally returned the kiss, fighting against the older man for dominance. A strong hand went up to grip his jaw with enough force to make his mouth part, allowing Simmons tongue into his mouth. Leon moaned as Simmons tongue ran over his own, flicking it playfully before running up and down, ravishing it. His mouth was filled with Simmons taste, of coffee and the smokiness of cigarettes. It wasn't bad at all and Leon found himself wanting more, his fingers moving down and curling in Simmons' dress shirt. When the older man finally broke the kiss, Leon's eyes fluttered open, emerald green staring into chocolate brown. He was panting softly and had to look away, embarrassed to be sharing such an intimate act with his enemy. His heart was racing and he willed it to stop, exasperated. Fuck, what was happening to him? He should be going down kicking and screaming, unwillingly and with a fight.
Simmons smirked and leaned into him, the smell of expensive cologne surrounding him and assaulting his nose. The older man's tongue ran over the exposed flesh of Leon's collarbone, making him moan softly before sliding higher. It slid over the wounds on his neck and a bolt of fear shot through Leon, making him shove Simmons in the chest hard enough to make him stumble back a step and break their connection. His breaths were unsteady, shattered by the trembling of his body and small noises that escaped his lips. He jumped down, quickly trying to get past the man but a strong grip on his wrist kept him from running. He was pushed against the stall wall, his eyes focused on anything but the man before him.
"Leon, look at me." When he didn't comply, he felt a firm hand under his chin, tilting his head back and forcing him to look at Simmons. The older man leaned in again, kissing Leon almost tenderly. He let his eyes fall shut, kissing Simmons back, the earlier flame rekindled between them. Leon's lips parted as the kiss broke and he gazed up into Simmon's eyes.
"What's happening to me?" Leon asked softly.
"Everything that's supposed to."