= Alright, first things first. I want 200,000 up front, another 200 when this is over- nah, juck kidding guys. What I will add is that I'm new to fanfiction, not reading it, but posting it. So I appoligise for any posted error or update, I'm learning. I also appoligise for any odd spelling mistakes. This story is a 'think and go' thing, I just sat infront of my old computer and started typing, so some information might be wrong; because for some weird reason I got 'Adam Benford' mixed with 'Adam Graham' in the first chapter... Eesh. Reviews are very much welcome, chapters will be posted. Capcom own these charactors, except for my made up ones which should be easy to identify.

So love it, hate it, review it, question it, ignor it. I'm ArtElf and I'm a little on the crazy side. =

CHAPTER 2:

Watch Dogs

Blending back into society is never an easy task, for any agent, but for those like Leon, who have seen the things he's seen, know the things that he knows, that task of becoming a 'cervilian' again was next to impossible. You see all these people around you, smiling, meeting with friends, going out with loved ones, walking hand in hand with matching gold bands on there fingers. A life that one in his position could never have. One of the many prices he has paid to the Government.

Every face you see becomes a possible threat, you read them, predict their motives, map out who they are by the way they carry them selves and what they wear. Sounds around you are highlighted, piecing together what is normal, and what isn't, you learn to focus on one conversation and block out the rest. You enter a room and immediately calculate entries and exits, how many people are in the room, things that you could use to your advantage and things you keep away from. Your mind is drilled into all this at any Government force job, but his mind has now been over run by it, a progress that had been running since he joined the RPD. His first day on the job as a rookie police officer. Same day of the outbreak. He got one hell of a welcome party.

Doing normal things, things that normal people do, is a mission in itself, and personally, Leon hated shopping.

Carrying a basket full of food and walking down the ile's of various products seem extremely out of ordinary for him, trying to make decisions on what product to buy, because there is too many of the same damn thing, too many options, and Leon never had options before. It should be comforting, but he didn't find it any.

Walking around in this small grocery store, having spent half an hour trying to find the items he needed and getting lost more than once, he decided what he has will have to do and that it was time to wrap it up.

He headed over to the single register in the store to pay for his items, where a young lady worked. He read her like a book. Age 20-25, reasonably fit, but isn't a workout junkie, straight brown hair tied up in a messy bun, no make-up probably studies music, a piano by the way she is drumming her fingers rythemly against the desk in a bored fashion. Hasn't had much sleep by the bags under her eyes, suggesting that even when she's not working for money she is knee deep in study. The glasses she wears give her a smart look, must be new, by the way she is continuesly shifting them on her head, and her name tag read Matilda.

He smiled politely when she spotted him, watching as she adjusted her glasses yet again, yeah, defiantly new.

"You look like you need something to do, piano perhaps." He said knowingly, placing the basket on the counter and started unpacking.

She looked up at him for a moment, startled, before smiling, and started to scan the items, "What gave me away?"

"Your fingers."

"Huh." Matilda nodded, caught. "I guess I'm not as discrete as I though I was." She stole a short moment to study the man in front of her. Black jeans, nicely fitted. A dark blue buttoned shirt, the first 2 buttons undone and showing some skin. A black leather jacket unzipped rested on broad shoulders, with a dark grey hoodie underneath. Dirty blond hair that framed a shaped face, and soft blue eyes that seemed to see right into her. Well, not bad for her first customer. Not bad at all.

"If it makes you feel better, no one is. I'v been told I'm rather terrible at it." Leon said to her, laughing lightly, remembering Helena had immediately picked up on his feelings for Ada. He smiled at her, not missing the brief admiring glance she'd given him.

Matilda laughed too, forcing her eyes to her work, a little embarrest at being caught staring.

He was about to ask her why she was the only worker visible in the store, and that it could be dangerous for her to be alone, when the TV at the top right of the wall caught his attention, the volume just loud enough for him to make out the words of channel 9's breaking news.

~Reports are coming in of the next victim's name was Keith Hendrics, who was found dead in his home at 7:30am this morning, neighbours say they did not hear any disterbence or see anyone enter or exit Mr Hendrics' home, and that it came as a shock to the people living in the area. The murder is now marked as part of the 'White Wolf' case when authorities found a symbol matching the same to the crime scenes of victims Wendy H Nelson, Benjamin Dee and Steve Jension. ~

Matilda had just finished scanning the items, bringing up the total at $46.95, when she noticed her customer had paused and was watching the TV with great interest and alarm. "Sir..?" She asked.

~Do not yet know who is responsible for these killings, the family's are demanding answers from the police. We- hold on, we are just receiving word that... the CIA at the scene have found a file on Mr Hendrics' computer which was running at the time of the murder, a file that is dated back in 2004 and titled.. the Kennedy Report~

She watched him tense up, the muscles in his jaw tightening, and she wasn't sure what to do, looking at him then at the TV, wondering why he was so alarmed by it.

The tension was momently broken by the ringing of a cell, and she watched as he visibly forced himself to answer it, but keeping his attention fixed on the screen.

Leon answered the phone, already knowing who it would be without even glancing at the caller ID. "Hunnigan, how the hell did this get out? I thought you said the case was classified from the public, what the hell are the CIA doing passing there findings to the reporters?" To say he was pissed would be a mild understatement. Murders were one thing, you cant stop that from reaching the public, no matter how hard you tried, but the crime scene details, evidence, and especially the files on the computer should have been bagged and taken immediately to the office and away from the area where it cant fall into anyone's hands.

"We have people working on that right now, the CIA were not given the go on releasing any information. Luckely, the file they found is locked, whoever sent the file to that computer didn't want to make it easy for anyone to view its contence."

Leon signed, that was something of a relief. "So you don't think the victim was part of the group who stole the information?"

"While some of our people believe Mr Hendrics might have been involved in the theft of E'Word data, others are arguing against it in relation to the victim, why have him killed?"

He paused for a moment, thinking, before what felt like a flare sparked in his mind. "Because its not the victim, its the information. This isn't related to the other three murders, this is a warning, their making a point of how easily they can screw us over."

"I agree, if they wanted to cause global chaos, they could have released the information days ago. They know we are watching, they know you are watching. This is a message."

"But the question is, what do they want?" They didn't have any leads, no back tracks, no bread crumbs. All they have is a wake of dead cervilians and information now being controlled by these mysterious group of people. Things are not looking good.

Matilda stood there, utterly confused, only hearing his side of the conversation and having a gut feeling that she shouldn't be hearing any of it at all. "Uh... Sir?" She asked somewhat tentatively, not wanting to intrude on what seems a serious phone call.

Leon looked up at the voice, coming back to the present, and finding a very nervous register girl standing there, looking a little out of place. Right. "Hunnigan, I'm going to need you to call you back." This was not the place for this kind of discussion, and he was not going to give her an explanation as to why, no, he was food shopping damn it.

"I understand, cant have you shop lifting at a grocery store, I'll keep you updated."

Shit, he thought, looking up at a servalence camera in the ceiling. Should've known better.

Ending the call and placing his cell away in his pocket, he gave a apologetic smile to Matilda. Reaching inside his jacket and taking his wallet out. "Sorry, how much to I owe you?"

Matilda froze momentarily when she caught a glimpse of a gun concealed under his jacket as he reached for his wallet, but relaxed at his question, re-reading the numbers out, and accepting the cash. Opening the draw to gather his change, she recalled the past few minutes in her head, putting two and two together. "Work, huh?" She asked, handing out his change.

"Yeah."

She nodded, placing the recite in the bags, "So your some sort of Government agent?" Looking at him in the eyes, noticing his pause.

He looked back at her, hiding the brief thought of shock, but then not being surprised. She had, after all, heard part of his phone call, but that alone should not have said much about who he works for. Deciding to play this like the beginning, he smirked. "What gave me away?"

She laughed at his choice of words, knowing the table had been turned, and feeling more relaxed. Matilda nodded at the left side of his jacket, "I saw your side-arm when you reached for your wallet, then I just put together the last few minutes like a jigsaw." She said, feeling proud, and not afraid to show it.

"Well.." He said, impressed. "Sorry to startle you, I guess I'm not as discrete as I though I was."

She broke out in a small fit of giggles, something she wouldn't normally do, but with that smile on his face, and being too early in the morning in her opinion, the situation called for it.

Leon laughed with her, glad that he made her morning on a Monday, because normal people like her deserved it, and not what he wakes up to every morning.

He took his purchase off the counter, glancing at the TV to see the news had moved on to a morning show, then looking back at Matilda. "I should get going" Checking his watch, nearly eight o'clock.

She smiled, "Yeah, It will start getting a little busy soon. Have a good day."

"Don't work too hard." He said with a wink, before waving his thanks and exiting the store.

His breath fogged when he left the store, walking across the car park where his grey Jeep was stationed, he pulled his jacket a little more securely around himself to warn off the freezing morning air, not that he minded winter, but he cant have someone else seeing the weapon under his jacket, it was just a slip up the first time, but he wasn't going to make that mistake again, unless he wanted to attract curious attention or startle someone to call the police. Not that they could do much, just a wave of his badge and licence to carry a gun and they will be on there way. He just doesn't have the patience to talk it out with them. The weapon was a comforting weight under his arm, one that he never left the house without. It was the same one he carried back in Raccoon, and although it was old, it was well cared for, one that never lets him down. Its presence was a reminder of why he is here today. He also carried his survival knife which was tucked up on his left shoulder, hidden well under the jacket, and another small blade that even his government doesn't know exists, which was strapped to his right for-arm up the sleeve of his jacket, the silver shealthed in fine but strong leather, and the handle was nothing more than an extension of the blade, blunt with a small groove in one side for grip.

A small 'beep beep' sounded as he unlocked his car, opening the passenger door to place the bags in, before closing it and walking around to the drivers side. A few people were around now, being about their business in the morning. There was an elderly lady walking her beagle, she looked like a Eskimo by the way she was rugged up, a man in a checked jumper getting the paper with a steaming cup in his hands, a woman entering the store he just left, and another figure was standing across the street, wearing a long coat-

... A trench coat to be exact, brown.

Leon's hand froze on the handle of his car door which he was reaching to open, eyes fixed on the figure standing a few meters away, who's eyes were staring right back at him.

~One witness has come forward, a friend of Benjamin Dee, reporting that Mr Dee had a regular visitor every 4th day of a new month, always a man described to us wearing a long brown trench coat, said to be in his mid-thirties, 6 foot tall, and short black hair.

Leon knew immanently who he was, and the uncomfortable tingeing sensation on the back of his neck made him realise that the man knew who he was too. It was a moment of wolf and wolf, both hunters making eye contact, recognising each other as threats, as targets, but a thought crossed his mind. Who's the hunted?

The man stared a moment longer, a look that seemed to be an invitation, before turning on his heel and strolling casually down the side walk.

Leon broke out of his trance, locking his car again before walking across the street, taking position a few moments behind, following the man, but not making any sudden movements that would rouse suspicion from the people who were in the area.

Many thoughts crossed his mind as he followed the man, thoughts as to why; why would he be in the open, sticking his identity in line of sight to someone he knows has the authority to take him into custody immediately? What; what is he doing here just an hour after another murder he is suspected of doing? And how; how did he know Leon was here? That last question disturbed him the most, stealing data from E'World does not give one a GPS tracking to when people go shopping and where. He realised there is more to this case than just the threat of releasing data globally, but if these people can track his movements and locations, then something else is seriously wrong, from inside the Government, and that was a scary possibility.

Leon watched the man carefully, eyes taking in every movement and detail, an edgy feeling in his mind told him not to follow, and usually he would listen to that inner voice, because that patronising tone is always right, and he'd paid for it in the past. But time called for it, after all, what do you do on your time off and you catch sight of a suspect who has information about everything you've done. Curiosity.

The man knew he was being followed, his steps visibly calculated for the agent on his trail, all for show, and after a few blocks of mindless walking, he cut into an ally way between two resterants.

As the man disappeared into the ally, Leon followed suit after a brief glance around him to see if anyone was watching, and for anything out of the ordinary. After seeing no one around, he continued, turning the corner just as his target glanced over his shoulder at him before going right behind the building into another ally. Leon got the feeling he was being toyed with, because by the time he got to the end of the building, his target was no where in sight. The sneaky bastard. He walked quickly to the end of the next ally, glancing left and right, finding no figure there, his hand was itching to the survivor knife hidden under his jacket. That annoying tone in his head was back and telling him to fucking move, and get out. He did exactly that, retracing his steps. He hated cat and mouse games.

Leon walked quickly, keeping all focus on his surroundings, hands by his sides and ready should he need to take fast action, his training expecting an attack, because a shady guy leading someone away from prying eyes just screamed danger, and he mentally kicked himself for falling for it. Nothing is as it seems.

Walking back out onto the side walk and into the open, still alert, he realised just how far he'd wandered tracking the man. He was 5 blocks away from where he parked his car, far enough should something go wrong and leaving him with no cover or fast escape route.

Covering the distance he'd wandered, he could feel eyes burning into his back as he got to his car, unlocking it again and quickly sitting in the drivers seat, starting the engine. There were allot more people around now that the morning was coming along, cars roamed the streets which were only getting busier now that rush hour was here, everyone trying to get to work at the same time. He was thankful for that, who ever was setting him up cant pull of any stunts with too many witness around. If they dare, he just hoped that what ever they want they wont get through exposing them selves to the public in a rash move to startle him.

Pulling out of the parking lot, eyes darting around the area, he knew now that he's going to have to be extra careful, things have just taken a turn, and not in his favour.

~{{Page Break}}~

After getting back to his apartment, a 15 minute drive of paranoia and rush hour traffic, getting home making sure all doors and windows were now shut and locked, food put away, and sending an email to Hunnigan explaining his encounter on the street, adding a possible thought of a threat from inside the government, he took a long moment to think about his day so far. His conclusion; It was shit.

It was now 5pm, still freezing outside while the afternoon sun rained down on the city casting it in a orange glow, but did nothing to warm in its wake. He was tired, confused, and stressed as hell. Walking over to his sound system, he turned it on, 'Who We Are' by 'RED' soon came through the speakers, he turned the volume up a little, but kept it at a reasonable level so that damned voice in his head can still warn him if it hears anything other than the music that isn't normal. That action caused him to frown, if calling that side of him, himself, and 'it'.. 'I need a beer', he thought dryly, screw happy hour.

Leon walked over the the fridge and opened it, please to see at least some food in there now, he grabbed a cold beer in the door, 1 of 5 that he has in there, including the scotch and whiskey he keeps in the cabinet on the wall above one of the kitchen benches. He thinks he still might even have some Russian vodka left, not that he's an alcoholic, he hardly touches the stuff, but this situation called for it. He really needed that beer.

Un-screwing the top and taking a decent gulp, he started to make his way over to the double glass doors that lead to the small balcony when he paused, glancing over to the cubbed under the bathroom sink, before making a decision and walking over to it.

Opening the second draw, he took out a familure white box, taking note that in the mirror he looked as tense as he felt. There were already three missing when he opened the box, but remembered he'd gotten this some odd months ago, and has never really touched it. Taking out a ciggaret and a small lighter that was there as well, he closed the draw and placed the box next to the sink before proceeding to the balcony, beer in hand.

He unlocked the door and stepped outside, finding that the breeze had died down next to nothing as he walked over to the railing and leaning against it, placing the already half empty beer bottle on a small wooden table which was next to a chair. Taking a moment to stand there, enjoying the afternoon sun, he wondered when his life would go back to the way it was, unable to find any word that would really describe it. Why him? Why did he make the transfer to the RPD, why did he join the government? why did he get so attached to a spy who worked for one man, a man who did so much wrong, why did he survive yet again in Tall Oaks when thousands didn't? He has a feeling that when a day comes, a day that he finally finds out why this happens to him, will be the same day that its too late.

"You looked troubled, son."

The voice somewhat startled him back to the present, looking left, he found that he wasn't alone in the afternoon light. He met the weary face of his neighbour, a man in his late 60's, Mr Ben Smith. Used to be in the US Navy, but retired about 7 years ago due to surgery on a knee. He's a rather chatty fellow, and since Leon moved in, Ben had made it known that he'd start calling Leon 'son' because of the respect he had for the young man when he put a stop to an attempted burglary in Ben's home, which Ben then found out he's with the Government. The old man wasn't a fool, he know's that Leon is high up in his job, and thinks he's narrowed it down to Secret Service, given some of the injuries that Leon comes home with after days or weeks of being away. At one stage as Ben was leaving the building to go do some shopping, found the young man struggling up the stairs due to the elevators being out of order that week, and told him to 'shut up' when Leon tried to denie his help, saying 'Your not the only stubborn person in the building, son.'

Forcing a smile, Leon looked over at him. "Afternoon, Mr Smith."

The man shook his head it him, pointing an accusing fingure, "Now lad, how many times have I told you to call me Ben?"

Now smiling widely, Leon grabbed his beer, taking a sip. They'd had this conversation many times before. "About as many times I'v asked you to call me Leon."

Ben smiled back at him, putting the news paper down that he'd been reading. "Not a chance of that, son."

Chuckelling, Leon took the ciggaret he was still holding then placed it to his lips and started flicking at the lighter in his hand, hoping that it still worked, bringing up his right hand to warn off the light breeze from the small flame that finally sparked and danced. With that small task accomplished, he took in a breath, feeling the warmth in his lungs, he sighed, resting his arms of the railing, finally feeling a little more relaxed.

"Smoking's a filthy habit, lad, you don't want to start with that." A voice cut through.

Keeping his eyes on the park across the street, surrounded by tall buildings, Leon smiled. "Worry not, Ben. Its not a habit."

Ben looked at him from where he sat, accepting Leon's answer when he called him by his first name, and hearing the truth in his words.

"Is our boy smoking, Ben?" Asked a wry yet pleasant voice from behind him.

Leon glanced over to Ben's balcony, and arched a brow when Ms Smith walked out, wearing a daisy yellow apron.

Angela Smith, a perky and happy lady in her mid 60's, always concerned with his well being. She also knows about Leon's job, and despite her pride for people such as him who work in that area, she's always giving him advice to take something else and more safe. Saying that the desk job will be the way to go if he didn't want to leave his line of work, something that Leon can never see happening. Well, not from behind a desk anyway. Angela is a retired nurse, and now spends her time cooking for a bakery down the road. Something he'd found out when she turned up at his apartment door with a basket of freshly baked choc-chip cookies, her way of saying thanks when he fought the burguler in their home. He'd accepted the basket, knowing that if he didn't she'd be upset. Since then, after coming back from missions, he'd find her at his apartment again with something else, something that always made him feel better, like she knew it would.

"Drinking too." Ben said, pointing over to the near empty bottle sitting on the table. Which he noted that Leon tryed to move it out of sight of Ms Smith, with no such luck.

Ben's comment caused Leon to mentally cringe. He was in for a lecture.

Ms Smith looked closely at Leon, seeing the weariness and slight tension that her husband didn't see. "Oh give the lad a break, Ben, cant you see he is distressed?" She scolded her husband. Looking concerned, she asked in a motherly tone. "What's wrong, sweetie?"

Well, that put Leon at ease, maybe he wont get told off. He was surprised that she could read him so easy, but then again, she always had. Ms Smith is a wise woman. He was about to reply, telling her that he was fine, something he was almost certain she wouldn't believe, when another voice from below the Smiths apartment stopped his excuse in its tracks.

"Who's drinking?"

"Our boy here, Leon." Ben called down, earning a disapproving glare from Ms Smith.

"Leon?"

Sighing, Leon leant slightly over the left side of the balcony so that the teenage girl can see him. "Hey Lisa."

Lisa, a girl of 19 years of age, long curly light brown hair, and who is studying to become a vet, lived in the apartment on the second floor. She also has a little crush on him, for lack of a better word.

She looked up at him, surprised and happy at the same time. "When did you get back? You were gone for a while." Always curious.

Leave it up to her to know the exact days he was gone. Leon rubbed at his temples, she probably knew exactly when he got back too, he didn't mind her, but he was tired, maybe an early night for him tonight. He was just going to say 'a few days ago' when another voice above him spoke. He looked up in utter confusion, momentarily displaying a 'what the fuck?' face as some would call it these days, because seriously, was the whole building in on this conversation?

"Who's back?" Said the voice.

Lisa called up, "Leon!" her voice rang so the person on the 4th floor can hear her.

There was a short pause, before a head leant over the balcony above Leon, "Hey! Leon, my man!"

Leon waved up at the man he would refer to a 'crazy fool', "How's it goin' Jim?"

Jim's face broke out in a big grin, making him look exactly like a crazy fool leaning over the railing, hair sticking out in odd angles. "Not bad, not bad! Just got into the football team man!"

Jim had spent the better part of year trying to get into a position in football league, he's all for the show and looks. Well, it looks like his efforts have finally paid off.

"Proud of you, Jim." Was all Leon said as he raised his beer in mock toast, downing the last of it in one swing.

"What's going on out here?" Came an annoyed voice from the right of Leon. Ah, Mr Baker, a man that no one seemed to get along with in the building. He's a manager at the city's top bank. Leon met the man when he moved in, didn't even give Leon his name who Leon had to find out through Jim, the only words Baker spoke were warnings of no party shit or fights, no loud music, the usual. Leon knew immediately that he didn't like the man, and avoids any confrontation necessary.

Jim immediately retorted, "Just havein' a friendly chat, Baker, somethin' you should learn to do sometime before you get too old."

Leon grimaced, damn it Jim, never learns to shut his mouth. "Sorry for the noise, Mr Baker, I'll be heading inside now anyway." Leon said before Baker could open his mouth. Leon put out the last of his smoke, grabbing his empty beer bottle and turning to say bye to the Smiths. Smiling at them.

"You take care, honey. Don't let work get to you." Ms Smith said, still looking concerned but smiling back at him anyway.

Always Ms Smith, "I'll try, goodnight Ms Smith, Ben." Leon nodded at them, seeing Ben's approving look at his name.

"Night' son." The man replied, before him and his wife went inside.

Leon smiled as he too left the balcony, closing the door and locking it, hearing the voices of Jim and Baker having another dissagrement. 'Some things never change', he thought with amusement, but then sobered up when he actually really thought about that, and even though it can be a good thing, in his life, that was a different story. In his life, things never changed, and when they did, it was for the worst.

It was now getting on to 6pm, the setting sun darkening the sky, whilst the many lights of buildings in the distance, street lights and the still steady flow of late afternoon traffic lit up like stars, creating a look you would expect on a Christmas night, but to him, not the comfort. After seeing what the world in capable of, after everything that's happened because of power and greed, one man standing against millions, the feeling of comfort only comes on rare occasions. Only a feeling he knows how to give, but not receive. He hardly feels human anymore.

One day, it will all be over, and only then will he feel comfort.

After having a meal on his table, alone, cleaning up, checking the locked windows and doors, closing the curtains. He decided it was time to call it a night. Coming tomorrow, he's going to need all the sleep he can get.

~{{Page Break}}~

It was dark when he opened his eyes, cold and dark. He lay there, feeling every bit of tired he'd felt before he went to bed, and he mentally groaned, cursing his luck for yet another sleepless night. As he lay there, he briefly wondered why his apartment was chilly, it had been at a reasonable temperature before. He thought that maybe he was cold because he'd taken his shirt off before sleeping, not wanting to give his body any reason to warm and fuelling another nightmare, remembering the previous morning when he'd woken up boiling. His tired and weary mind tried putting together the puzzle, and it took him a moment to realise something strange... he had no nightmares.

Nothing, he'd slept soundly, not a single thought bothered him as he slept. That was a first in many months. Maybe he was just that tired, and his mind was too run out for thoughts, but then why was he-

He opened his eyes again, not being aware that he'd closed them. His mind now working on overload. If a nightmare didn't wake him, then what the hell did? Something had triggered his inner alarm bells whilst he was sleeping.

He woken up and the first feeling was the cold...

He'd locked the windows and doors after he came inside from the balcony, and not making any sudden moves, he carefully pushed himself up on his elbows, looking to the right and past the top of his TV. A window was open, the curtains moving gently by the breeze that made its way in, the numerous traffic and building lights shining through the small space, but not enough to light up the room much. his apartment was cloaked in darkness. A small noise came from the direction to his left.

Someone was in his apartment.

Leon kept still, mind working like clock work. There was a Beretta in his bed side table, but opening the draw was not an option, the sound of the weapon should he use it would attract attention and cause panic to run in the building, and he had no way of knowing what his attacker would be armed with. His last option was the survivor knife he kept under his pillow, works better for close encounters.

Very carefully sitting up and pulling the covers off his legs, he reached under his pillow, feeling the familure hilt of the knife in his grasp. Eyes and ears fixed on everything around him, he stood up, unsheathing the blade as quietly as possible and listening for any sound that would give away his unwanted guest's position.

There was a small clatter to his left, about 10 meters in front of him, and he knew his apartment like the back of his hand. His guest was in the kitchen.

Walking slowly, knife in front of him, he silently thanked who ever placed these wooded floor boards down, he's feet didn't make a sound.

Eyes adjusting to the dark, he could just make out a shape of a figure in the room, standing in front of the kitchen counter top, his back turned by the simple knowlagde that if he was facing Leon, he'd probably see him too.

His mind ran over all the possibilities of someone breaking into his home, the apartment was locked up pretty good, the locks were all different and next to impossible to pick at, glass was criss-crossed with small yet strong bars, so that if an intruder managed to break the glass, they'd then have to get through another layer. The front door was solid wood, you wont be able to kick that in with out some power, and the glass doors leading out to the balcony were bullet proof. Considering the window was open from the outside, with no sign of force entry, you must seriously know what your doing.

The image of the shady man he saw across the street today came to mind, and with everything that had happened with the past few days, that possibility seem the most likely.

Mentally smirking as Leon came right up behind the man, he'd guessed by his height and shoulders, Leon made his move, as quick as lightning, he grabbed the man's right arm and twisted it behind his back, bringing his left arm that had a firm grip of the blade and brought that around to the man's throat, pressing in sharply as he kicked the man's feet apart in a fashion that should his victim try to throw him, he'd only succeed in loosing balance.

So focused on the task at hand and the adrenalin running through his veins, Leon missed the startled mumble of "What the-!?"

"Who the hell are you?" Leon growled into his captives ear, cutting of anything the person might have said.

The man stopped struggling, seeming to realise who held him, and raised his only free hand where the agent can see it.

"Answer me!" Nudging the blade in warning, and twisting the man's arm further. Leon was in no mood for games.

"Hey, hey! Easy! Its me!"

Wait... Leon knows that voice, he hesitated if only briefly, before a memory surfaced and caused him to blink a few times.

"...Jake?"