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 35: Going Solo

For the very first time in a very, very long, Leon had to go solo. It felt like forever since he'd been on a mission all by his lonesome. It was almost scary to him, the idea of being alone. No one to help him, no one to talk to. No one.

That wasn't the only part about the mission that freaked him out. It was the mission itself.

"Jaws was bit by a rabid squirrel and he ran away! Go find him!" Graham had told him from behind the bathroom door. "Oh, and I need more toilet paper! I had tacos for lunch!"

Scared, Leon had asked him if he was sure the squirrel was rabid. The answer he got was an extremely loud fart and the President shouted, "Yes!" in a pained groan.

And now here the pretty boy was, walking the streets with a long fishing pole, holding it before him and using waffles as bait. He didn't want to risk getting bitten by Jaws, so he made sure to purchase the longest fishing pole available and held it as far from his body as he could.

"Jaws!" He called. "Jaws, where are you?! Here Colmillo, Colmillo, Colmillo! Yoohoo!"

After a while, Leon sighed, thinking it was useless to keep looking. Jaws was probably in Mexico by now or maybe he got hit by a bus three times. Maybe he even hitched a ride to Las Vegas and became a stripper. If he did, Leon wouldn't bother to take him home since it sounded like he had a good gig going for him.

He turned a corner, letting out a high-pitched shriek when someone suddenly got up in his face and asked, "How are ya, strangah?!"

"Oh, my God!" The agent cried. "The merchant guy!" He tightly hugged the cloaked man, causing one of the many hidden weapons under the cloak to go off and send a bullet in the air, hitting a bird high up in the sky. The bird came crashing down into the windshield of a car just as the owner was getting out, making an intricate spider web of cracks in the glass.

"Sorry, strangah, that was my gun." The merchant chuckled sheepishly.

"Either that or you're just really happy to see me." The brunette released the merchant. "Man, it's been so long since I've seen you. I thought you died when the island exploded."

The merchant shook his head. "Oh, no, strangah. I swam away from the island LONG before it exploded. Ever since then, I've made it big here in the US. You've probably seen some of my ads on TV or somethin'."

"Nope. Never have."

"Ya haven't seen ANY ads for my services?"

Just then, a bus passed by in clear view of Leon. The bus had a huge advertisement on the side for the merchant's weaponry services with a picture of the merchant saying, 'What the hell ya buyin', strangah?!'

"Nope." Leon shook his head. "Haven't seen any."

"Well, damn." The mysterious man eyed Leon's rod - his FISHING rod - with interest. "Nice rod." When he saw the agent's eyes bulge, he said, "Your fishin' rod, strangah."

"OH..." Leon laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I've got a bettah one, though."

"Really? Can I see your rod?...Your fishing rod?"

The merchant reached into his cloak and pulled out what had to be the longest fishing rod Leon had ever seen. It had to be at least twice his height in length.

"God damn!" The brunette exclaimed. "Your rod is HUGE!...Your fishing rod."

"Is that all, strangah?"

"Well, how much is it?"

"A thousand pesetas, strangah!"

"But...this is America...We don't use pesetas here."

"How about a trade, strangah?"

"Um..." Leon searched his pockets for something - anything - to trade for the fishing pole, but all he found was a quarter. "I'll trade you this quarter?"

"Deal!" The merchant snatched the quarter from the American and in turn, tossed his rod - the fishing rod - at him. "Hehe...Thank you."

"Oh, no. Thank YOU." Leon merrily attached a new waffle to the end of the longer fishing rod as he began walking away.

"Strangah!" The merchant cried. "You're about to hit your rod!"

"Huh?" The brunette turned to look at the merchant; a bad move. He ended up running right into the corner of a mailbox, hurting his sacred area. He leaned over the mailbox, groaning in pain.

The cloaked man cringed. "Ouch, strangah. Tried to warn ya."

Wesker had been contently watching a documentary of the world's greatest dictators on his computer when Sergei burst into his office, panting and clearly distressed.

"Comrade!" He cried. "Did you hear?!"

The blond paused the video. "Hear what, Sergei?"

"Spencer is dead!"

"He's been dead for a while, Sergei."

"A month is not THAT long. Do you know anything about it?"

"Hmm..."

Flashback...

Wesker frowned under his gasmask as he stared out the window of the Spencer estate, listening to his charge cough and fart like the feeble old man he was. Honestly, why did HE have to be stuck with taking care of Spencer when he had the time to spare? The man needed to be put in a damn hospital. It was a miracle he was even still alive at this point. By God, the man looked like a pruney sack of skin that had been hit by a bus a couple times or something. Speaking of God...

"I was to become a God!" Spencer ranted after a horrible bout of coughing. "It was my dream...My dream to have everyone bow before me...My dream to control all life...My dream to have a rabid fanboy with jet black hair screaming, "KAMI!!!" whenever he saw me!"

"Yes, yes, I know, Spencer." Wesker sighed.

"A whippersnapper like you would never understa-" The crippled old man suddenly let forth a loud toot, then asked, "Where am I right now?"

"I think it's about time for a nap..." The younger man slowly strode over to the much, much older one. A sinister air seemed to hover about him. "A PERMANENT nap..."

"Eh, but I'm not tired..."

Wesker stood behind the wheelchair, looking down the long flight of stairs sitting just in front of it. He smirked before thrusting his leg out and kicking the wheelchair down the stairs with a harsh grunt and loud, "YEAH!!!"

Spencer, wheelchair and all, fell down the stairs, screaming what sounded like, "Eh ai EEEEEEEE oomph ugh uh!" before a loud fart was emitted from his derriere as he and the wheelchair crashed on the landing. "My hip..." He called weakly.

"Damn." Wesker frowned, but then smiled when he realized he could keep doing it. There were more stairs after the landing, and more stairs after that. He could keep kicking him down the rest of the twenty eight flights of stairs and surely by then the old coot would be dead.

So, with a huge grin on his face and a hope in his heart of becoming a God, he went down the stairs to kick Spencer down the next flight.

End of flashback...

"Wesker? Wesker?" Sergei waved his hand before his comrade's face, but the dopey, nostalgic smile he wore did not leave, nor did the blank but dreamy look in his eyes that was hidden from the Russian man due to his sunglasses.

Wesker finally snapped out of it and went, "Huh? What?"

"I asked if you knew anything about Spencer's death and then you looked all...dreamy. Like you had...'jazzed' in your pants."

"Oh, sorry. And it's 'jizzed.'" The sunglasses-wearer cleared his throat, tugging at the neck of his shirt uncomfortably. "No, sorry, I know nothing of it."

The silver-haired man turned to leave just as Wesker had heard a sound. He thought he was hearing things, but after a few moments he heard it again. Whimpering. It was whimpering.

"Sergei...are you whimpering?"

"I...well..." The former colonel swiftly ran from the room, screaming, "KAMI!!! WHY?!"

Wesker sighed. "Now if he had dyed his hair black, Spencer's dream would've come true..."

"Jaaaaaaaaws." Leon moaned weakly. He turned another corner and once again found the merchant halfway down the sidewalk. "Oh, my God...Oh, God...I've been going around in circles!"

"No, ya haven't, strangah!" The merchant stated joyously. "What're ya buyin'?"

"I don't wanna buy any-"

"What're ya sellin'?"

"Not this shit again! Ugh!" The brunette did a 180 and went back around the corner from which he came, only to discover the merchant was there, halfway down the sidewalk.

"Hi, strangah!" The merchant waved.

"Huh?" Leon turned again and went back around the corner, finding the merchant there.

"Hey, strangah!"

Baffled, Leon stood at the corner and looked down one street where the merchant was, then looked down the other one to see if he was there was well. He was.

"Hi, strangah! What're ya buyin'?!"

At this point, the Kennedy man was confused beyond belief. He did what any other sane, rational person would do in such a situation and threw down the fishing pole before taking off in a random direction, screaming like a maniac.

Loud, bitter sobs escaped the President's throat as he looked over a picture of Jaws where the Colmillo was preparing to attack whomever took the picture. It was Graham's favorite because he could easily see the love in Jaws' eyes...even though nobody else could.

Ashley watched her father quietly from the doorway, her presence unknown to him. She exhaled heavily, hoping Leon would be able to find Jaws and wishing her father would quit with his stupid memory repression. It made her feel like complete crap because the only things he was repressing were bad things, thus coming to the conclusion he thought of her as a bad thing.

Blade passed by the office, stopping and returning when he noticed Ashley standing there.

"Is he doing any better?" He asked before taking a glimpse at the President. "Never mind. I can see he's not. Then again, he's always like that, isn't he?"

"I want him to remember me!" Ashley whined, pouting.

"I know, I know."

The girl gasped as an idea struck her. "Blade, I have an idea!"

"What is it?"

She stood on her tip toes to whisper in his ear and when she pulled away, he gave her a peculiar stare before asking her if she was sure.

"Yup." She smiled. "Go ahead, Blade."

"Perhaps you should wait for Leon to return? You know how the President always gets so worked up when he-"

"Just do it!" Ashley whispered harshly.

"Very well." The gunman nodded, gently grabbing Ashley and pulling her to him, clearing his throat to get Graham's attention. When he was sure he was the total focus of the President's concentration, he leaned down and pressed his lips to Ashley's.

Grinning wickedly, Ashley threw her arms around the taller man's neck and pulled him in close, smashing her lips against his in what could only be described as gluttonous passion. While she moaned loudly into the kiss, Blade flailed his arms for balance because from the force of her pulling him by the neck, he nearly toppled over on top of her.

"Oh. My. GOD." The President gasped, his sadness over Jaws momentarily forgotten. He arose from his chair hastily and pointed at the two, shouting in a high-pitched voice, "YOU'RE RAPING MY DAUGHTER!!!"

"Yes!" Ashley cheered as she pulled away from Blade. With her being his only means of remaining upright, he fell over with a loud thud and grunt.

"Ashley, why the hell are you happy?!"

"Because you remember who I am!"

"Well, duh, of course I remember you. How could I forget my own daughter?"

"But you did!" The blonde approached the desk, giving her father the saddest and biggest of puppy dog eyes. "You completely forgot I was your daughter. Ever since Wesker, Sergei, and Krauser left, you completely forgot about all the bad things, so that means you think I'm a bad thing, too..."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous! I've been suffering a lot of head trauma lately and it's been screwing with my mind." As if to prove his point, a package broke through the window and slammed right into the back of Graham's head, knocking him out cold over the desk.

"Head trauma? That's all? So...I'm not bad?"

"No..." The black-haired agent groaned from the floor. "Not completely..."

"Yay!" The blonde squealed as she skipped and pranced out of the office, stepping on Blade's hand in the process.

A few hours went by after Leon's total brain rape with the merchant. He took that time to calm himself down by sitting in a dumpster and going over his game plan by drawing blueprints of the city and all the locations Jaws could possibly be at with a stick and some dumpster sludge.

He checked every single location, but Jaws was not found at any one of them. As a last resort, he headed to the woods in the outskirts of the city by jacking someone's car.

Leon had just turned on the radio when a voice beside him told him, "Change the station, strangah." The agent almost crashed the stolen vehicle and had a heart attack when he looked beside him to see who it was. It was simply the merchant, who waved at him and gave a friendly, "Hello, strangah."

"How the hell did you get in here?!" The brunette asked, shaken.

"Uh...yeah..." was the only answer the merchant would provide the agent with.

"You're stalking me! Stop it!"

"Why?"

"Cuz it's rude!"

"Well, don't ya think it's easier havin' ME come find YA when ya want somethin' instead of YA comin' to find ME?"

Leon took it into consideration. Yes, things did seem easier that way. A LOT easier that way. Nodding, he said, "Alright, you can stalk me."

"Hehe...anytime. So, strangah, what are we doin' in the woods?"

"I...don't remember."

And since he didn't remember, Leon drove them both to the nearest Burger King tog et something to eat. While they ate in the parking lot, the agent explained to the merchant in detail about his whole mission despire saying he didn't remember what he was doing out in the woods earlier.

"Is that why you were in the woods?"

"Hmm..." Leon paused to think. "Oh, my God, you're right!" Without warning, he stepped on the gas pedal. The sudden motion of the vehicle caused the merchant to spill his drink all over him and shove his straw up his nose, giving him a bad nosebleed. They took a quick detour to the ladies rom to get him a tampon for his nose before they were on their way again, speeding through every red light possible.

"Brace yourself!" The American cautioned out of the blue.

"Huh?"

But it was too late. Leon hit the brake hard, making the car screech to a halt. The merchant was sent through the windshield, landing on the ground with a thud and a death garble.

"Uh...merchant?" Leon peered through the windshield at the merchant's unmoving body. "Are you okay?"

The cloaked figure on the ground gave no reply. Not even a leg twitch.

"Oh, dear...He's dead." But the agent quickly shrugged it off and got out of the car, shouting the name of the President's beloved companion.

Night was settling in when the Colmillo came to the conclusion that he was really lost. Hours ago, he began going through the five stages of grief, and he was already at number four: depression.

He sat in the woods, all alone, whimpering and crying like a little puppy who just had his favorite toy taken away while he was playing with it. He wept bitterly to the moon like it would give an ear to listen.

Where did he go wrong? How the hell did he end up like this? He was simply chasing a squirrel that morning that was getting whipped cream out of the garbage can. That was HIS whipped cream and he made damn sure that stupid squirrel would get the idea after a little chase, but the squirrel bravely - or foolishly - attacked him and bit him.

Stupid squirrel. Stupid forest. Stupid darkness. Jaws just wanted to bite someone in the face.

"Jaws!" The cry came from afar, but the infected wolf was sure he had heard it. "Jaws!"

Jaws' ears perked up and he turned his head in the direction of the noise. A light was coming towards him from the distance and he had no idea whether to run away like a chicken or attack it. The voice calling him did sound familiar, though...

Leon inhaled and exhaled deeply, holding one hand to his chest while the other held a flashlight.

Just earlier, he had been wandering through the woods when he walked around a rather big tree and found the merchant standing there. It had scared the absolute crap out of him, seeing as he had just KILLED the merchant only a short time ago.

"What the hell?! I just KILLED you!" The brunette had shouted, thinking he was starting to go crazy. "Like, oh, my God! What the freak?! What the FREAK?! Holy freaking Funkenstein! Freak! Ugh!"

To make up for scaring the poor man shitless, the merchant gave him a flashlight on the house.

Currently the two were scanning the forest for the President's big-mouthed canine. In between intervals of Leon calling for the Colmillo, the merchant struck up friendly conversation with him, like asking what he's been doing since Spain and how things are and whatnot.

"My life totally sucks, merchant dude." Leon said, drab. "My best friend and a few of my other friends left me for an evil organization plotting on world domination like some sort of cliché, my employer keeps thinking I'm raping his daughter when I simply LOOK at her when another guy could slap her ass and everything would be A-okay, I constantly get fired, I made nasty TWICE with someone or some people who I thought were someone else, I killed you not too long ago, and I JUST stepped in shit. Ugh." He wiped his shoe off with the end of the merchant's cloak discreetly.

"Damn, strangah, your life does suck."

"That's not even the worst of it!" The American sighed. "Oh well. It could be worse. I mean, I could've been you not too long ago."

"Aye, ya could've, strangah."

"Or now, since I just wiped shit on your clothes."

"Aye, ya- WHAT?!"

"Nothing."

A sharp noise - a howl - carried on the wind; a howl Leon knew well.

"Oh, my God!" He shrieked. "It's Jaws!...Or it could be that ex-Krauslovahkian subject who keeps coming around every once in a while!"

The men ran towards the source of the noise and much to their glee, they found a sad, distraught Jaws.

"Holy crap, Jaws!" Leon kneeled down and held a hand out to him when the wolf set his golden eyes on him. "Come here, boy..."

"Uh...strangah? Didn't ya say he had rabies...?"

Leon froze. He'd almost forgotten about the whole rabies thing, at least until he noticed the foam around Laws' mouth. A whimper left his lips as he wondered what he should do. Should he shoot Jaws or should he get the merchant to shoot Jaws? It was just too big of a decision for the pretty boy to make and he ducked behind the merchant, telling him to figure out what to do.

The two of them started arguing about what they would do and who should do what. The only thing that stopped them was Jaws pouncing on top of Leon and...licking his face.

"Ew! Jaws, gross! You're getting whipped cream in my mouth! Wait, huh?" Leon stopped to think for a minute. If the foam tasted like whipped cream, then that meant...it was whipped cream. And that meant...Jaws didn't have rabies. Which meant... "Yay! I don't have to kill you and get fired!" He hugged the Colmillo around the neck.

After driving Jaws back to the White House - the merchant had mysteriously disappeared, which seemed fitting due to his mysterious nature - the whole place was full of sobbing and crying from the President and his canine companion upon being reunited.

Graham was so happy that not only did he give the agent a raise, but also a pineapple to thank him for bringing Jaws home safe and sound and for reporting that he did not have rabies.

Leon was just glad to be back. It was complete and utter hell, the whole mission. Had Krauser still been around, the mission probably would've taken a week to accomplish, but at least he would've have a shit load of fun doing it.

Staring at the night sky as he prepared to drive home, the brunette wondered just what Krauser was up to at that moment.

Sharp blue eyes inspected the cards in his hands carefully. One mistake and it would cost him the whole, entire game. All he needed was a three...

"Do you have any threes?" Krauser asked.

"You're bad!" Alex squealed.

Correctly translating that as, "Go fish," Krauser jumped up and threw his cards to the ground. "You asshole! You ALWAYS win at this game! Ugh!"

Wow...I started the last chapter yesterday and finished it today, then I started this chapter AND finished it on the same day! I am freaking good! :D