Description: After Whip leaves Hunter at the hospital in Sunshine City, she asks Leona to keep an eye on the girl. She catches up in time to keep Hunter from doing something unwise, and the two have a chat on what might be better than just survival in this world.
Sunshine breaks over Sunshine City.
Hunter's eyes are hurt by the insistent lances of light burning their way through the cloud cover to make the entire horizon burst into pinks, reds and golds. She doesn't have a penny to her name, but she does have her armor, and her gear. It felt good to be back in that. Out of the hospital, away from the evidence of her failure.
Crouched atop a rooftop on the outskirts of the city, the young woman's eyes glare down at the city streets. The people here seem unaware of her; mostly they seem unaware of each other, going about their business in private bubbles. Like any new hunting grounds, she's been trying to stake it out, to figure out what drives these people.
So far, it has completely eluded her.
"Do me a favor," said Whip, and while her younger colleague is often playful and often prone to teasing, she does not, as a rule, ask for favors. None of the Ikari do, really. There's only one thing that Leona, herself, would ask of any of them, and it's something she knows she wouldn't even have to ask for. So when Whip makes the request, she considers it seriously.
And so she's been tracking the Hunter. Or, Hunter, at least, is the name she was 'given'. Tracking silently, shadowing. It's... a good test of her skills, anyways--stealth in an urban environment is quite the different beast from hiding in a jungle. But some of the principles are the same. Blend in. Move carefully. Avoid attracting attention.
She's dressed... well, she has on most of her usual accoutrement--the boots, the fatigue pants--but she's left the belt of grenades at home, and she's wearing a heavy flannel over her tanktop. Oddly enough, she actually looks a little grunge-punkish, lacking the makeup or other accessories but otherwise doing a fine job of looking like a typical young woman...
... if not incredibly intense and focused on her target. With Hunter up on a rooftop, Leona's had to move up to a neighboring one, keeping line of sight but not, for the moment, moving to engage.
Perhaps if Hunter was completely herself, she'd have spotted Leona. But, she isn't. She's exhausted, physically and mentally, and worse still she's still trying to clear her head of the drugs they'd used to keep her in some kind of fit state. She feels sick inside, and it disgusts her. Awful, just awful.
The urban environment is something Hunter has no experience with. But as she suddenly leaps into action, it would be easy to assume she does. Springing from the rooftop, she rolls into a tumble, and comes to a rolling halt snaring both hands around... a pigeon?
The bird is dense and more surprised than panicked. Humans aren't the usual natural predator after all. But breakfast has to start somewhere. This morning it starts with the strangling of a pigeon.
Savage. Leona does not turn away, though much of her wants to, for varied reasons--because it sickens her.. because it excites her... because she's thought of doing the same thing, if not to pigeons. Still, she has to do something, and eating a pigeon, while acceptable in survival situations and in some Middle Eastern countries, is likely frowned upon in this establishment.
Quick decisions, decisive thinking--this is why Leona fits in with the Ikari. Four steps back, five forward, and a leap. Leona doesn't disguise her steps--booted feet on rooftop are a distinctive sound--and she leaps the gap between buildings easily. Too late to save the pigeon, more than likely, her arrival--punctuated by the thump of landing, a quick roll to bleed off momentum and a smooth pop up into a crouched stance roughly ten yards from Hunter.
"I wouldn't eat that," she says, her voice low, husky, and -almost- monotone.
Hunter is pretty surprised by Leona's sudden presence. For all that, though, she doesn't *look* startled. Though her eyes come up, they are dull. Casually defeathering the bird as though it were any other catch... why shouldn't she? Is she poaching? She's vaguely aware that other countries regulate hunting more than her village did. It'd make sense.
"Got to eat something." She says, vaguely. A shrug of her shoulders seems to indicate that this is as good as anything else. Honestly, compared to the flavorless hospital food she'd been fed, it'd be better than most.
"This your spot or something? There's plenty more, but if you've got a claim... I'll pass it up if you tell me where is free."
It's as much a practical thing as anything. "Urban animal. Probably contaminated. Dangerous." Not to mention illegal. Slowly, Leona reaches behind her, grabbing a couple of heavy foil packs. Her smile is a little humorless. "Here." She slides one of the packs over to Hunter's feet. "Not as... exciting," she says, nodding to the partially defeathered bird, "but safer. Better to keep you going." It is, after all, scientifically crafted for it. And, while perhaps not as good as an actual hot meal, the Ikari MREs are six miles above a regular Army MRE.
She adopts a non-threatening position--sitting on the rooftop, left leg tucked underneath her, right propped up--and tears open her own MRE, pulling the items out and arranging them neatly atop the foil package. As she does so, she says, casually, "Whip... asked me to watch over you."
Hunter eyes the foil packet. Everything else falls into line pretty quickly after that. She knows military field rations when she sees them. The idea that the game could be contaminated is a pretty convincing, and unpleasant, notion. Without another thought, the pigeon's body is thrown backwards over her shoulder.
Picking up the silver packet, she turns it over a couple of times. "Temporary solution." She says, at last. "I need to find some better way to keep myself fed. I don't want handouts." But, she can't be too angry at Leona; she had asked the Ikari for help... Whip was just honoring that promise.
"I don't like the idea of someone following me around, either. The devil is dead, they tell me. I don't think his people will be looking for me, do you? They'll be trying to find shelter for themselves."
"Not a permanent arrangement." Leona will have her own missions soon enough, after all. The MRE is, well, good, for an MRE--she seems to have a 'chicken salad sandwich', convincing enough; Hunter probably got the 'spaghetti and meatballs'. Still, she eats the food slowly, giving an eye to the other girl as she tears into her MRE.
"If reports are correct... Vega and Shadaloo are defeated." Pause, in which she eats a couple of potato chips.
"He'll be back. Men like him... unless you hold his head in your hands, can't be sure he's gone. And they don't... forgive, or forget." Blue eyes keep a steady gaze on Hunter.
"Whip told me what she knew." Well, a report, really. "'Hunter'... when he rises again... will you hunt?" Vengeance is a motivator that Leona knows well; it's certainly served her well before.
The silver packet is torn open, and Hunter begins to explore it. Prepackaged food. It is still a bizarre concept to her, and one she doesn't really like, but, she's hungry. Spaghetti and meatballs may not be a traditional breakfast, but it is better than nothing at all. She'd never admit it, but it is much better than half the things she's cooked herself.
The idea that Vega could still be out there, though, sends a cold shiver down her spine. Hunter has precious little experience in this realm; when they say that a man is dead you presume that he is dead. Not that he will lurk over your life like a spectre waiting to drop from the sky and devour you whole.
Hunter's eyes are also blue, but they are washed out and empty, devoid of any spark, any *hope*. That is what Whip had seen and what had compelled the Ikari former-assassin to offer aid to the hunter. That she may now have to live her life with the constant threat of Vega's return hanging over her, does nothing at all to renew her spirit.
"I will survive."
And that's... all that she can promise.
"Admirable," replies Leona, in a tone that really doesn't convey the sentiment. Nor does it contain derision, either. Finishing her MRE, she packs it back into the foil, compressing the package into a small, neat square of foil, easy to carry out, so as to leave no evidence behind. Tradecraft is important.
"There's something better than survival," she continues, after a moment; she swings her head around, gazing over the rooftops of Sunshine City. She hadn't truly realized this herself, not until she'd truly joined up with the Ikari.
This is delicate, because Leona is not really a recruiter. In fact the Ikari usually go out of their way to -keep- recruits from her until they're signed up for the ride, because, well, Leona. Her lips curve into the tiniest of smiles. "I won't lie. It's a hard life. Maybe harder than what you'll face. But... worth it." The implied challenge, is, of course, 'if you're capable of it.' And also implied... when Vega comes back, you'll have allies. _Comrades_. But she can't, and won't, force conscription on anyone.
"I'm not a soldier."
The words are spoken harsher than Hunter means them to be; she had, after all, asked the Ikari for help, and gotten it. She owes them, as much as she may dislike the fact that she owes anyone anything. There's genuine venom in Hunter's voice, though. Venom which she immediately regrets, and tries to take back.
Her eyes dip down, and she shakes her head. "I saw what soldiers do. They're weapons. They kill for money and because someone tells them to." She shakes her head with a little bit of greater force. Is she a coward? Probably. She doesn't like that she is, but she had proven it the moment she ran away from Diesel rather than trying to kill the Doll.
"I kill because I need to in order to survive. I'm a hunter, not a weapon. I can't become... like them."
"Not like them," agrees Leona. And it's true. The Ikari are nothing like the Shadaloo soldiers. She recognizes the venom, of course; just because she's emotionally flattened out doesn't mean she doesn't recognize them or feel them.
"Not asking you to... become what you hate." There's another pause, Leona gathering her thoughts. "Saying... there's a better way and... we're not soldiers. We choose what we do... but mostly..."
Leona rises, suddenly, dusting her fatigues off. "We fight people like that man. We stop them." It would strike Leona as slightly ironic--she has -so much- in common with Hunter... but she doesn't know. She can only act on instinct.
"Not a decision you have to make right now." But, Hunter will be on Leona's mind. And Whip's, likely. The Ikari tend to gather the strange and the orphan--what's one more?
Hunter does listen to what Leona has to say. Of course she does; she'd be ungrateful not to. The low-pressure technique works a lot better than if Leona had tried to get all defensive or angry, that much is for sure. She takes a long, deep breath, and then exhales it slowly. Closing her eyes, she tries to think. To fight her own brain in order to get these things to line up the way they should. Damn those painkillers, making everything so... slow.
"So *why* do you do it, then?"
Hunter's voice is far more level and calm, and when she opens her eyes again she seems to be more in control of her emotions. "You said there was something better than surviving. What is it to you? How many more people like that man *are* there?"
"Because... someone has to. And... because I need to." Because she lost a village and, unlike Hunter, she knew who destroyed it -- her -- and why. "Call it a compulsion," she says, finally, almost distractedly.
As to the other question, well. "Many," she says, flatly. "Many are the men who are like him... whether they have the power or merely desire it. It is our mission to stop them. If necessary, to crush them. To prevent their schemes from... harming innocents."
Innocent is something Leona is not. She may hate blood, but she knows that some must be spilled to prevent more. Already standing, Leona pauses for a moment, tilting her head; reaching up to her right ear, she puts her fingertips to a small tactical earbud receiver, then shakes her head. Not something she needs to deal with yet.
"As I said.. don't need to decide now. Maybe it isn't what you want. But better than surviving is finding a purpose..."
Hunter grunts, but doesn't respond for a few moments after Leona explains the reasons why. The girl shrugs her shoulders eventually, and looks up at the sky. No matter where you are, the sky is the sky, and nothing will change that. Except at night, anyway, when the city cloaks the stars and makes the world seem alien and frightening.
"I'd give anything to have my purpose back." She says, in that same, neutral tone. "All I wanted was to keep my mother safe and see my sister grow up... she was always so much smarter than me."
Something like a smile threatens her lips, but she pushes it down. The hurt is still disturbingly fresh, even if thinking back on what she'd lost makes her feel... good. They were good people, she'd just... had to say goodbye. There was nothing she could do.
"I'll think about it." She says, at last, and her voice is just a little bit hoarse. "Thanks for the food."
"Do." Leona drops a card onto the rooftop; all it has on it is an address. "If you find yourself hunting pigeon again... go here instead." It's a safehouse, but not one with weapons--just stocked with more MREs and water. A simple shelter. Set up by Whip, but Leona doesn't mind giving this over to the girl.
"I won't say that vengeance will soothe your pain." Lord knows that it hasn't for her. It takes her a long time to craft her next words, and they sound like it--halting, not delivered well. "There are... other mothers and sisters that need to be kept safe." And with that pronouncement, already feeling as if she's said too much, she... takes a step off the rooftop, on her way to taking a rather parkour-ish path to the street, where a Jeep waits.
Log created on 09:20:00 03/17/2012 by Leona, and last modified on 12:00:43 03/17/2012.