Mission: Almost Impossible
Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for the story. Everything else is owned by Capcom. Oh, wait a minute. I own Blade Stryker. Oh! And I keep forgetting to mention I also own Jaws! Silly me. Oh, and Daredevil, too.
Summary: Leon and Krauser are the best agents President Graham has had in years, but he sends them on missions even I could do.
Chapter 28: Get Your Own Damn Country! Part I
"Leon and Krauser, I'm very disappointed in you both!" Presidfent Graham scolded the two agents.
"But why?!" Krauser asked, honestly confused.
"It's against the law to break into someone's house!"
"But I had to use their bathroom! And I didn't even know!" He turned to his younger companion. "Did you know, pretty boy?"
Leon nodded. "Yeah."
"Then why didn't you tell me?!"
"I DID tell you! You were too busy trying to break the door down to listen to me!"
"...Oh."
"I'm docking from both of your paychecks this month!"
Krauser shook his fist above his head. "That's not fair! Your rules suck!"
"They're not my rules, per se. They're the country's rules. If I could change them as freely as I can breathe, you'd bet your ass that a lot of these laws would be different, but because of Congress and majority votes and the Constitution, it's a whole different story entirely."
"This country sucks, then!"
Graham shrugged. "If you hate it so much, why not leave?"
"Cuz there's no other country in existence where I could talk all the shit I want and not get shot!"
"I can change that." Leon said, reaching for his handgun.
Krauser gasped as an idea bubbled in his mind. "I got it!" He brought his fist down into his hand and smiled triumphantly. "I'll make my own damn country!" The President and the pretty boy stared at Krauser unsurely before turning to each other, both trying to figure out if Krauser was being serious or only joking. "...I'm being serious." The commando answered as though reading their minds.
"Right. You go do that, Krauser." Graham waved him off.
"Screw you, Mr. Prez! I'll show you!" The scarred agent flipped off the man in charge before leaving the Oval Office, fuming.
"Do you really think he's gonna..." The brunette trailed off, figuring the President knew where he was going with his sentence.
"Knowing Krauser, he might try, but also knowing Krauser, it won't work." President Graham smiled. "But I'd love to see him try."
Leon snored peacefully in his bed, hugging his pillow to his face. Virtually nothing could bother him in such a state of slumber, and nothing did. His alarm clock had been blaring for ten minutes, but it wasn't enough to wake him. However, it was enough for a crack to appear in his bedroom window. What did pull him from the oceans of sleep was a single gunshot. The first thing he saw was his now-broken alarm clock. No longer did it make noise, for a bullet had pierced it right through its very core.
"Hey!" The brunette snapped up. "What's going on?!"
"The president of Krauslovahkia doesn't like alarm clocks, therefore they're now illegal!" The commando replied, his gun still trained on the alarm clock as though it's blaring sound would start up again.
"Krauslovahkia...?" Leon groaned when it dawned on him that Krauser really was being serious the day before. "Oh, Krauser, you didn't really do it, did you?"
"What the hell do you think?" Krauser dropped a large scroll onto the brunette's lap, making the younger man cringe under its weight. "I've been up all night writing the rules to my new country and I want you to read every one of them."
"Why?"
"Because this is my new country! From the front yard all the way to the back is now Krauslovahkia, so that means you're living in my country and since you are, you gotta follow my rules."
Leon shrugged and, for the hell of it, unraveled a small portion of the oversized scroll to read what rules and regulations Krauser's made up country enforced. A lot of them seemed very Krauser-ish, and quite a few stuck out, such as, 'Thou shalt not censor shit.' and 'Thou shalt not drink and drive unless it's that special kind of drunk where you know you're drunk and that makes you a better driver.' "Krauser, how many rules are there? Hell, how long is this list?! No, wait, don't answer that. I know what I will hear will scare the shit out of me."
"Oh, and here." The commando handed the brunette another scroll; a reasonably small one. "Take that to Graham. He needs to know about this new country and let the United Nations know, too, so they can include Krauslovahkia."
"Why can't you give it to him yourself?"
"Read rule 342."
"...Uh..." Leon unrolled the scroll some more, going faster as he went. Soon, a mountain of paper was shielding him, and still he had not found whatever rule 342 was. "Krauser, help me!"
Krauser scoffed. "Amateur." He quickly rolled the scroll back up and placed it neatly on his housemate's nightstand. "Rule 342 says that any important person from Krauslovahkia is not allowed to go within 100 feet of the enemy, and before you ask, yeah, the enemy's Graham. But rule 365 says that every other American is a friend, except for anyone who was ever on Intervention and relapsed."
"So I guess that means you're not coming to work."
"Nope." The taller agent plopped onto the bed. "While you're working for the enemy and earning money necessary for the sake of Krauslovahkia's economy, I'll be going around town to recruit more people to join my country."
"Good luck. You're gonna need it."
"Good morning, Mr. President." Leon greeted as he entered the Oval Office. "You won't believe this, Krauser really started his own- Hey, what's the matter?"
The President, whom had been staring at the TV with his mouth wide open in shock, pointed at the screen. On it, Krauser was shown talking to a news reporter about Krauslovahkia and making failed attempts at convincing her to join.
"Your country sounds very, um, interesting, but I'm fine being an American citizen, thank you." She said.
"Oh, come on!" Krauser pouted. "Hey, did I mention that women have a choice between clothes or their birthday suit?" He gave a suggestive wink. "But only hot women! No fat chicks."
"Um, back to you, Charles." The news reporter laughed sheepishly.
"Thank you, Celia." Charles said once he appeared on screen. "Well, it seems that we just got a call from the United Nations stating that they would like for Krauslovahkia to join them, so I guess that means this is now an official country."
"What?!" Leon gasped. "No way!"
"Leon, you're fired!" Graham finally spoke.
"But why?"
"Before you came in, Krauser said you were a citizen of his country and he made it clear that Krauslovahkians hate me."
"Mr. President, I'm not-"
"I don't want to hear another word from you! Get out of my office now before I...Oh, I don't know what I'll do, but believe me, it'll be bad!"
Leon, his expression clearly showing hurt, turned to leave, but before he could grab the doorknob, the President stopped him.
"Wait." He said. "Before you go, I want you to hear something important. Sit down." He waved a hand to the chair across the room. Leon silently grabbed it and pulled it up to the President's desk. "I'm going to tell you a story and when I'm done with it, I want you to think it over. You're welcome to return if you'd like your job back, but I can't take you back unless you've understood the moral of the story."
The brunette nodded. "Okay."
"...You see, a man named Bob-"
"Oh, come on!" The agent stood abruptly. "How's the story of how the pineapple got its name related to this?!"
Graham pointed sternly at the chair. "Boy, sit down and listen."
"Fine." With a huff, Leon complied.
"You see, a man named Bob-" On and on, the President went. Once or twice, Leon took a glance at the clock, and every time, both hands would be in a new position. By hour six, the brunette just got up and left and by then, the President was so engrossed in the story that he hadn't realized he was no longer speaking to someone else. He didn't even notice Leon walk by the window, which his chair was facing.
"I never liked working for this place, anyway." He muttered smugly. He got in his car and on his way back home, he made a detour in an empty parking lot so he could do what he always did to calm himself: by performing doughnuts at the highest speeds the vehicle would allow. After ten minutes of this, he felt better and left in a hurry, and also because he got so dizzy that he hit a car entering the lot. On his return home, he found Krauser sitting on the couch with a sewing kit and scraps of cloth.
"Hi, pretty boy." Krauser greeted, his attention more focused on his work.
"You!" The brunette said viciously, pointing at the founder of Krauslovahkia. "Because of you, I got fired today!"
The commando looked up, appearing honestly apologetic. "I'm sorry, Leon. Oh, how is Krauslovahkia going to prosper now?"
Leon was very tempted at that moment to punch the older man for fbeing more concerned about his country, in which only one person was living in without counting Krauser, than the fact that he was the one who got Leon fired in the first place. He held back, though, and instead inquired on what the hell Krauser was trying to make.
"It's the Krauslovahkian flag!" The country's founder held up the flag enthusiastically. It looked more like a bunch of scraps of camo-colored cloth sewn together quite novicely with some sort of crimson blob of cloth in the center.
Leon couldn't help but notice each of Krauser's fingers were bandaged and had a thimble on each fingertip. Krauser caught the younger ex-agent staring at his hands and answered, "I'm not very good at sewing, so after I poked every finger at least three times, I bandaged them, and for good measure, I put a thimble on each one."
"I see. Any luck finding people who wanted to join your flourishing country?"
"Hell no! No one wanted to join once I started handing out rule scrolls!"
"Gee, I wonder why?" Leon retorted, words laced with sarcasm.
Wesker hurriedly entered the White House's living room, searching for Sergei, whom he found sitting on the couch, absentmindedly nicking his digits with it double-edge. Calling the Russian's name, he took a quick seat in the chair across from him.
"Did you hear about what happened to Leon?" The blond asked, gripping the arms of the chair as though his news were of great urgency.
"What, comrade?" Sergei questioned, briefly halting his session of self-mutilation, leaning in with sudden interest.
"Leon got fired because he was a member of Krauser's new country."
"...That idiot Krauser made a country?"
"Yeah. Krauslovahkia, I think is its name."
"Hmm..." The Russian pondered for a brief second before getting distracted by the sound of the door opening. "Oh, hello there, Blade Stryker."
Blade nodded towards him. "Sergei." He took a seat beside the gray haired man on the couch. "Did you see the news this morning?"
"We were just talking about it, weren't we, Wesker?"
Wesker adjusted his sunglasses, that aura of excitement still hovering about him. "You know, I was thinking about it and if it really is that easy, then I'd start my own country." He looked at both agents oddly as they merely stared at him, their jaws dropped as low as their muscles and joints would allow. Blade's sunglasses even slipped off of his nose and onto his lap. "What?"
"Comrade, are you feeling okay?" Sergei felt the blond's forehead.
"I'm fine!" Wesker barked. "Listen to me for a second. If I started my own country, I would try to get all of the ex-Umbrella operatives to join, and if so, we could slowly gain more and more power until we became even more powerful than America and accomplish the old Umbrella's goal of world domination!"
Blade raised an eyebrow at Wesker's idea, but Sergei, on the other hand, had to restrain himself from squealing with delight.
"Oh, that's a great idea!" The Russian smiled jovially. "I'll join your country!"
"Great! You can be the Vice President of...uh...Sunglasseslovahkia." He turned to the orange-eyed agent. "What about you, Blade?"
"...I think you've both gone insane." The black haired man snatched up his sunglasses and stood, turning to Sergei. "I'm not sure of what your mental status was before you joined, but Wesker-" He faced the fellow sunglasses-wearer. "you have lost it." And with that, he left.
The blond agent frowned. "I really wanted for him to join, too..."
"Don't feel so saddened, comrade." Sergei patted his shoulder. "It's probably just a tinge of jealousy. He'll get over it."
Wesker shrugged. "Maybe you're right."
For what had to be the tenth time that morning, Krauser blew an air horn in Leon's ear.
"Shit!" The brunette cried, grabbing at his abused ear. "What did I do now?!"
"You're eating the wrong cereal." Krauser stated blatantly, picking up the cereal box. "Krauslovahkia forbids any kind of cereal within its borders that isn't chocolate or doesn't have marshmallows in it." He promptly threw the box away and while he was at it, took Leon's bowl and dumped the contents down the sink.
"I'm REALLY starting to hate Krauslovahkia..." The younger ex-agent grumbled. "It won't let me eat my favorite cereal, it won't allow me to wear any pair of briefs that aren't white, and it requires me to have a three hour Scrabble competition with you during all my favorite afternoon shows!"
"What's wrong with Scrabble?"
"Nothing, it just gets REALLY boring by the end of the first game."
"Don't diss Scramble!" Krauser grabbed Leon's car keys and tossed them over to him. "Come on, pretty boy. We need to stop by the store and buy more food that's kosher to Krauslovahkia."
Sighing, Leon stood and complied.
"Are you freaking SERIOUS?" Leon asked, rather annoyed and shocked, as Krauser once again put another item back that the young ex-agent had placed in the cart.
"This is the wrong kind of bread!" The commando explained. He grabbed another loaf, which was exactly the same brand as the one he put back, and dropped it in the cart.
"How the hell is THIS one any different? It's the same damn-"
"No! It isn't. It feels different."
"...It feels different?" Leon picked up the bread. It felt like any other loaf of bread, unless perhaps he was missing something, which he obviously must have been when Krauser nodded and placed it back in the cart.
This pattern had been repeating during their shopping escapade. Leon would grab something Krauser said he wanted, Krauser would say something was wrong with it and he'd put back, only to come back with the same brand of product or something quite similar. It was really starting to grind on Leon's nerves.
"What next?" The pretty boy asked.
"Sunglasses!" Krauser announced.
"What for?"
"So we look pimpin'"
Shrugging and accepting that as a valid reason, Leon followed Krauser to the aisle where there was nothing but sunglasses and mirrors. To their surprise, they found Wesker and Sergei there, trying on matching sunglasses.
"Slickback! Soviet Union! How are you guys?" The scarred man inquired happily.
Sergei raised a brow behind his thick, dark shades in puzzlement. "'Soviet Union...?'"
"It's his thing. He gives everyone nicknames." Leon answered, grabbing a random pair of sunglasses and slipping them on. "Damn, these are thick."
Something glimmering on Wesker's shirt caught the eye of the commando and he looked. It was some sort of medal or brooch with a pair of folded sunglasses was printed on it while the Umbrella logo was embossed in the background. He pointed at it and asked, "What is that?"
Wesker smirked. "For my country Sunglasseslovahkia."
"I'm the Vice President." Sergei added.
"The country was inaugurated into the United Nations just this morning."
Krauser gawked at the other blond silently. After a few moments passing, he violently slapped him, knocking him into the shelf. Leon gasped at the actions of Krauslovahkia's leader and Sergei's jaw dropped as the shelf came crashing down, causing a domino effect and knocking over the other shelves in its wake.
An employee got on the intercom, announcing, "Clean up on aisle 24, aisle 25, aisle 26, aisle..."
Suddenly, a smile came upon Krauser's face and he said, "In Krauslovahkia, it's a greeting. It's meant to welcome you and your country to the United Nations!"
"I think you killed him..." Leon peered down at Wesker, who lay unmoving under a thin litter of sunglasses.
Krauser waved his hand dismissively. "Ah, he'll be fine. Come on, pretty boy, we need to grab some other things. We'll come back here when they've cleaned up this mess." He waved to Sergei. "Bye, Soviet Union!"
"Before you go, Krauser," The Russian began. "allow me to show you how we say good bye in Sunglasseslovahkia..." He strode up to the Krauslovahkian president, raising his arm. He gave the man a swift, rough slap to the face, knocking him into the shelf parallel to the one Wesker had been rammed into. Once again, the domino effect began.
The same employee yet again announced, "Clean up on aisle 22, aisle 21, aisle 20, aisle..."
Leon looked down at his fallen comrade, who remained still on the ground with the exception of his twitching leg. "Um...Krauser...?"
Satisfied with his handy work, Sergei bade Leon farewell. "Good bye, Leon." He said as he hooked his fingers under Wesker's arms and proceeded to drag him out of the aisle. Almost immediately after he had cleared the aisle, a limping figure entered from the opposite end, his sunglasses askew and broken, revealing orange eyes.
"You..." Blade growled, pointing at Leon.
Leon motioned at himself and, in a meager squeak, asked, "Me?"
"I should have known..." Blade took a step forward.
"Wait, it wasn't me! It was him!" He pointed at his unconscious roommate.
The gunman sighed. "Oh, why does this revelation not surprise me? What happened?"
"He slapped Wesker and Sergei slapped Krauser as payback." Upon the younger agent raising a brow at him, Leon added, "Yeah, they slap pretty hard."
"Why did Krauser slap Wesker?"
"He was congratulating him on his new country."
"What? New country?" He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Oh, you must be kidding me...You have to be."
"Nope. So, uh..." Leon bent over to grab Krauser's arms. "See you later?"
"Right. Bye." Blade turned and made his leave, limping rather painfully, or so it seemed to the ex-agent.
The brunette simply sighed, then grunted as he hoisted the unconscious man into the cart and made his way to check out, grabbing some of his favorite snacks on the way that he could hide from the major house dictator.
Leon groaned as he took another bite of his chips, shuddering with delight at the dearly missed and beloved flavor. Just as he grabbed another handful, he heard a groan and footsteps come from outside his closed bedroom door. With fast reflexes, he gathered up all the junk food scattered on his bed and shoved them under his pillow. It looked rather obvious that he was hiding things under there, but this was Krauser who was about to pay him a visit, and Krauser wasn't one for noticing little details. Hell, he wasn't one for noticing anything period.
The brunette snatched a magazine off the floor and flopped onto his belly, flipping it open to a random page. Trying to seem nonchalant, he pretended to read as the door opened.
"Ugh..." Krauser groaned as he rubbed his face. "What Sergei did sucked. Remind me to declare war on Sunglassesslovakia later..."
"Feeling better?" Leon asked, lowering the magazine.
"No, I feel like shit!"
"You should after the grief you put me through. I tossed your ass in the cart and the cashier said I had to pay for you, too, cuz you were in the cart! Not to mention I had to pay for the face imprint you left in the shelf you crashed into!"
"Really?" The commando looked excited. "How much was I worth?"
"About fifty bucks."
"Sweeeeet."
"And then Sergei came by with Wesker in a cart and had to pay eighty bucks for him."
"Shit!" Krauser angrily kicked at the air.
"So, what the hell did you come in here for?"
"You see, I-" He paused. "Ya know what, pretty boy? I can't remember..." He shrugged and left. The moment he closed the door, Leon pulled one of his snacks back out and popped one in his mouth, crunching as quietly as he could. From the other side of the door, Krauser shouted, "And damn it, whatever the hell you're doing in there, you're doing it too damn loud!"
Wesker, chuckling quietly to himself, wrote something else down in the notebook he had sitting in his lap. He was surrounded by open notebooks, all filled with something he wrote. A pile of black notebooks sat on the coffee table, waiting for their turn.
President Graham entered, accidentally stepping on a notebook and slipping. He grunted hard as he hit the floor, then swore colorfully for about twenty seconds.
"Damn it, Wesker!" He barked. "I could've broken my neck on these! You know the rules. No one trashes my crib but me. Now what's the meaning of all this?"
"I'm writing the laws of my new country." Wesker stated.
"Ooh..." Graham inhaled sharply. "I actually needed to talk to you about that..."
"Yes?"
"You're fired."
"...What?"
"Well, think about it. You're the leader of a new foreign country and you're working under the leader of the superpower of the world. You could discover my secrets and use them against me!" Sighing sadly, the President continued. "Sorry, but you have to leave now. Sergei, too." He added, "And pick up these God damn notebooks!" as he nearly slipped on another whilst leaving.
Leon hummed cheerfully as he lathered his hair. He rinsed, shaking his head and laughing at himself because it reminded him of a wet dog shaking.
Krauser had left on "business" an hour ago and wouldn't be back for a while, so he had the house all to himself and damn it, he was going to break as many Krauslovahkian laws as he possibly could; starting with humming songs Krauser hated in the shower.
Once he was done, Leon turned off the water and open the curtains, screaming girlishly when he discovered three other people in the bathroom.
"Oh, my God!" He screeched, grabbing the curtain and holding it over his exposed body. "Who the hell are you?!"
"Pretty boy! There you are!" Krauser grinned as he entered. "I see you met the new members of Krauslovahkia."
"That's nice, now what the hell are they doing in the bathroom?!"
"Well, there wasn't enough room in the kitchen, so the other members had to spread out and find room somewhere else in the country."
"Wait, there are OTHER people here?"
Krauser nodded. "Yup. I managed to get more people recruited!"
"How?"
"I bribed them."
Leon let his face drop into his hand. "Oh, for the love of..." He groaned and he looked back up at the commando. "Krauser, I have to tell you- Oh, I can't do it like this! Will one of you assholes get me a towel?" After being handed a towel and wrapping it around himself, the brunette stepped out of the shower and beckoned Krauser to follow him so he could talk to him privately. There was, however, no place they could talk privately. Every other room had at least five people in it, and the kitchen was so crowded that it would be a miracle to reach one side of the room from the other in under an hour. Finally, Leon just decided to drag Krauser out onto the front lawn.
"What did you wanna talk about, Leon?" Krauser plopped down onto the front steps.
Leon growled in frustration. "This is getting ridiculous. I can't deal with this anymore. I'm leaving the country!"
Flabbergasted, the elder man stuttered. "W-What? Pretty boy, you can't leave! I was THIS close to making you Vice Prez!"
"See ya around, President Krauser." The pretty boy gave him a small wave before he began walking down the street in just his towel, destination unknown.
And that is the end of part one! Sorry it's been so long since my last update. But, ya know, life interfered. .
