Leon's footsteps are heavy as they echo across the terracotta tile of the old church located in the middle of the rural Spanish village, the last known location of his target—you, the child of the President.

Leon had studied your case meticulously before he arrived, just like he did every mission—you had been taken by some cult located in rural Spain, and he feared the worst for you as he couldn't help but picture what sort of sick things were being done to you, knowing what kind of hellscape man could unleash with access to the right tools.

He opened a door within the church, blue eyes locked in a steely gaze as he eventually looked upon you, your eyes widened in terror as you clutch a candleabra for dear life, swinging it wildly out of preservation. But Leon was faster than you, and stronger, and had you pinned to a wall in seconds—but his grip was a soft one, not trying to hurt you more than he was just trying to calm you down and make you see he wasn't a threat.

"Hey." He whispered in a stern tone, his eyes on you and never once straying away. "It's okay, I'm friendly. My name is Leon—your father sent me to find you."

That's when he saw it—blood seeping through the fabric of your white shirt. His eyes narrow towards a wound being covered on your collarbone, his eyes flicking back up to you as a concerned scowl twists onto his lips.

"You're—"