Crossover Final Fantasy VII/Kingdom Hearts II, Zack/Leon, «I'll tell you where Cloud is if...»
Warnings: posted in multiple parts, no smut due to length and author frustration, may be continued later.
Leon's never been fond of undercover work. There's a skill set required to it that he's never quite perfected, or at least, never to his own standards of perfection. There's few roles he can portray with any kind of realism and those aren't the kinds of characters he'd want people he actually liked seeing him perform.
But when the job calls for it...
Which would explain in part why he's dressed in almost nothing, hanging out in a back alley in a bad part of town waiting for the local wanna-be badass to show up. The other part of the explanation would require him to examine his relationships with certain members of Garden far too closely for comfort. He can admit that he's grown rather fond of the place and its citizens. After ten years, it's a bit hard not to, but he's not ready to give away anything else. Not yet.
He wishes it was harder to pretend to be a down-and-out hitter for hire when he sees the back-up Carlos-the-not-dumb-enough brings with him. Tall, dark, broad shouldered and with eyes that glow enough in the dim twilight Leon figure's he's either a SOLDIER or he got way too friendly with a pond of ooze at some point. Leon's too old for the rent-boy angle and he's never gotten 'twitchy' down enough to pass for a junkie. The scars... well. The scars are sort of a resume in and of themselves.
"Leo."
"Carlos."
"Where's my money?"
"Where's my client?"
Only the best hitters have enough reputation to pick their own jobs. Leon needs to get close to Emanuel Costello and to do that, he needs Carlos, and as much as he'd rather pick the asshole off with a sniper rife or even just snap his neck in the middle of the night, Costello has something Leon needs and he just doesn't like dealing with Hades.
Likes it less than going through these games.
"Fair will take you to see the client after you're vetted."
Leon shrugs and points up to the fire escape half rusted off the brownstone he's leaning against. "Money's at the top."
"That ain't what we agreed on."
"Neither is mister eye-shine beating the crap outa me which is what I gather you think is gonna happen."
Tall, dark and Fair grins at him like they're sharing a joke, hands lifting in a helpless 'what can you do?' shrug. Leon hopes he doesn't resent the bastard too much in the morning for the bruises he knows he's going to get tonight. He left his gunblade back in his gummi and there's rules about magic and shit on worlds that haven't been properly connected yet.
Not that he'll let the guy kill him if it comes down to that. Leon's a SeeD, he's never revealed all his tricks.
"Your funeral el ojete."
Leon rolls his shoulders and pops his neck and looks his supposed executioner over with a critical eye. "Nah. I don't think so." Arching a brow he switches to Cetra, hoping the guy knows enough to catch his drift but banking on the last word. "Amin casi mell Sephiroth."
Carlos hits the brownstone skull first and Leon feels a tad sorry for the slimy asshole before there's a fist around his throat and he's a lot more worried about his own life than some backwater crooks. Shit. He should have figured he'd run into the one guy around who still liked Ex-General Psycho.
"Where? Where is he? Where's Cloud?"
Leon lets the other brow arch and points out, "Crushing my windpipe? Not going to get you answers. Just a thought."
There's an honest and open struggle on the guys face. It's sort of novel, the idea that someone capable of crushing bones with his pinky is still human enough to show his emotions plain as day.
Leon wonders if he was ever that easy to read, and dismisses the notion. He's the Ice Prince. He bleeds Blizzara's.
"Tell me where they are and I let you live."
Ah, the intimidation technique of interrogation. Amateur.