Author: thundersheep PM
What if Leon never died and Mathilda had the opportunity to master all the assassination techniques? This is pretty much the deal in this fanfiction. Btw, I'm Brazilian and this is my very first fanfiction. I wrote it for a class project for English classes :PRated: Fiction K+ - English - Humor - Words: 2,263 - Reviews: 1 - Published: 12-07-12 - Status: Complete - id: 8772417
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Gabriel Curuja's Fan Fiction
Based on the movie Léon: The Professional
Murder your maker.
New York, 1984. Somewhere in the crowded streets of New York, in one of the many filthy hostels; a place where any kind of feeling can become something else if you're not strong enough to deal with that.
There lived an underclass family, the father was a drunk, drug addict troublemaker, the mother a prostitute, and 3 kids: a grown up teenage boy, a girl who wouldn't be aged more than 15 and a little child. Sometimes the man would wake up in the morning and whenever he had the hangover – or whatever the reason – it was indeed another terrific day to beat up his daughter. The girl's brother and mom pretended to be blind and deaf in order to ignore all the screaming and bruises. This killing routine was destroying her childhood as the days went by. After every beat she would go to the streets after having stollen a cigarrette from her mother's drawer. She seemed to care more about her brother than herself, trying to grant him the life she could never have, too bad her parents felt the opposite and couldn't care less about him. The only thing that was holding her hopes up was her little brother. At least, that was what she believed.
One day when heading back home after running away from her father, she spotted 3 cars; one of them was a police car. Since her father had a lot of issues with many people, she opted to carefully enter the hostel. Her home's door was open and there were two tall intimidating men standing at the entrance guarding it. Before she could be seen by the "guards", she heard several gunshots. Those shots startled her so much she couldn't move. She could only standing at the corner of the hallway gathering her strenght from deep down inside. After a minute or two – which seemed to be an age or two – she calmly went past the door and the "guards". She had a glimpse of her father and mother laying down on the ground covered in blood, while hearing a shrill cry that was interrupted all of a sudden by another gunshot. One could not bear nor stand the agony and pain she felt in that moment. However, she assembled all of her courage and past through the door pretending to ignore the scene, since it was nothing really unusual in that kind of place. She walked to the door at the end of the hallway and ringed the bell while the accomplices of the murderers followed her with their suspicious eyes. No one answered the door. She ringed again. A few seconds later, the door opened enough for her to go in, and so did she. Right after she sneaked into the apartment, the door closed immediately and she was standing there a italian looking 40 year old man with black clothes, a black beanie and sunglasses with circular lens. At first, she was relieved because she was safe there, but on the other hand, she was in a small dark room with nothing more than a couch and a television on the living room, and plus, the frightening guy.
She was just standing still there, quiet as a monk. So was he.
What is your name? she asked not sure if she should do that.
My name is Mathilda... Nice to meet you. She said with an hesitant voice.
And silence was all the response she had from him.
In the meanwhile, ices started to echo through the hallway, Mathilda headed to the door and while standing on her tip toes she took a glimpse of the hallwat through the peephole. She could see several men alike the ones guarding the door and a peculiar one wearing a white expensive suit and sunglasses. She then felt her legs heavy and her vision bluring gradually, she fainted shortly after while calling for Matthew – her young brother.
She woke up in a bedroom with nothing more than a bed. Afterwards she realized she wasn't home anymore.
She slowly got out of the bed while clumsily groping the walls trying to find something or nothing at all. The apartment was small, a few steps after leaving the room she got back to the living room. Leon was sitting on the couch with a bucket of water by his side and for her despair, over the table she saw a large set of knives, some of them covered in blood while he carefully cleaned all the blood stains from each knife. She wanted to run and scream, yet her legs couldn't do so. He noticed her and ran to her direction. She couldn't stand any longer and collapsed. Leon held her light body before it hit the ground while telling her not to push herself. Mathilda was so numb she probably didn't understand a word he said. He laid her down in the bed once again.
As soon as the girl's eyes were open, they found Leon's staring at hers. After a brief moment of silence she took a deep breath and asked him with a peaceful voice such as those who have accepted their fate:
Will you kill me?
No women. No children. Answered him with a straight voice.
Surprised with such unexpected statement, she didn't know whether to be happy or scared, after all, he was a hitman. She couldn't stop wondering about the living room scene.
Here, you must be starving, said Leon handing her a couple of toasts with butter.
Indeed she was. Not thinking twice, she fiercely devoured the toasts. Right after the breakfast she sat on the edge of the bed and looked deep into his eyes pronouncing these exact words: - Can you teach me how to kill?
Leon choked on his own saliva not believing he'd ever hear such words come out from a girl's mouth.
What nonsense! He yelled while abandoning the chair he was sitting on. Don't even think about that! He then disappeared in the darkness of the hallway.
She stood in the exact same place bending her knees, burying her face beneath them and then crying quietly.
He peeped into the room and saw everything. However, he didn't feel like he had to do anything.
The following week he said Mathilda she should go away, she didn't belong with him. She started to whine and tell him about all the trouble she would face out there in the world all by herself. Since he was so awkward in social aspects, he didn't stand a chance against her crying baby face. Little by little she became a great helper; she started doing dishes, cleaning the floor while he was out on a job and other domestic tasks. Until one day he came back home in the middle of the night staggering through the hallway – that woke up the little Mathilda. She then faced Leon bleeding and panicked trying to find a way to be helpful.
Mathilda, grab the suitcase under my bed!
He sat in a chair in the living room and tore his shirt. He had been hit by a gunshot in his right arm. Mathilda opened the suitcase and asked what she should do. He ordered her to tie a strap on his arm and to pass him the forceps. She tied the strap with all her strength, even though she didn't have much. He grabbed the forceps with his left shaking hand, too bad he also was right-handed. No way he could remove the bullet like that. He dropped the forceps while agonizing in pain.
I'll do it. Said Mathilda grabbing the forceps.
No way! You can't do it.
You can't either. Let me give a shot.
He was too weak to object or to push her away due to all the bleeding.
Mathilda tried to stick the forceps in the bullet hole, but all the blood was blocking her view. After she poked the wound for ten minutes, she reached the bullet and removed it. With a gauze she made a second-rate bandage. Leon then fainted.
The next morning he jumped out of his bed and his eyes found Mathilda's.
Good morning, Leon.
I have to clean up the blood trail I left in my way here. He slowly tried to get on his feet.
Don't worry, I cleaned it already. And here is your breakfast. Said Mathilda stopping him.
He was stunned for a second or two. The little girl he had just saved was now his savior. What a turn of events.
In the afternoon, Leon called Mathilda to the balcony. She promptly showed up.
Open the case. He pointed to something that looked like a guitar case.
She opened it and there she found several metal parts.
Can you set it up for me?
After 20 minutes, she had a sniper rifle in her hands. And fearing for Leon's health she said she wouldn't hand it to him.
I'm not the one shooting it.
Then who is?
Her eyes showed how much surprised she was. Still, she didn't hesitate a bit.
As soon as my arm is healed, I'm going to teach you how to wield closer combat weapons. For now let's focus on long range weapons.
Okay! She replied anxious.
But remember, we do not kill civilians, women or children.
For like 3 months, he taught her how to shoot from long range with different weapons. When his arm was healed, they moved to the countryside, so no one would be suspicious about it.
Not much happened during the training, besides the huge improvement in Mathilda's assassin skills and body. Four years passed since they moved to the countryside. She was now a woman. And women are so independent. After the training she came back to the Big Apple.
Leon's bond with Mathilda had grown so strong that he forgot about her past. And that was his worst mistake. A beautiful and dangerous woman was now armed and thirsty for revenge in the streets of New York.
Leon retired as a hitman. He decided to give him some rest at the countryside. Maybe become a farmer. Who knows? He spent most of his days with a stray dog he adopted by his said and reading any book he could put his hands on.
Nevertheless, peace was not meant to be for his kind of people. Three months after Mathilda's departure, he read in the newspaper about a serial killer striking in New York. The killer wiped out two whole gangs and some police officers and their families. The officer in charge of the case was Inspector Stansfield, a man he liked to wear white suits and sunglasses.
Immediately a bell ringed in Leon's head. What have I done, he wondered. Not much later he took a train to New York in order to put some sense into the kid's mind.
As soon as he got in NY, he went to his old house, and discovered it quite clean for a house that was inhabited for over 4 years. Leon taught Mathilda everything he knows about killing and hiding. So it wasn't that hard to track her down and reach her.
At the night in an alley that was a gang's territory he heard gunshots. When he looked, he couldn't believe. Many corpses were all over the floor. Standing amongst them, a woman with dark hair smiling with her face covered in blood.
Mathilda... Is that... You?
Leon! She ran into his direction to hug him like they had just met in a park.
Stop. He pushed her. – What are you doing?
Justice. They are just having what they deserve.
That's not what I taught you. What about the families? They had brothers just like you!
Don't talk like that! They killed my family, I killed theirs. It was meant to be this way.
This has to stop, Mathilda. You're not going further with this.
Then go ahead and stop me.
I will. I cannot allow this to go on.
The memory of her smiling all covered in blood was burning in his head. That was so wrong, even though she was the only one dear to him, that could not go on.
He turned his back on her.
She fired her gun against his legs and while he fell, he fired his gun in her stomach. She tried to stand and fire one more time, but she was all out of bullets and ended up going to the ground.
Why, Leon? Why?!
Pulling a knife from her boots she stabbed him in the eye and all over his arms while he tried to defend himself. She was running out of strength, and dropped the knife.
I'm sorry, Mathilda.
And one last gunshot sealed Mathilda's story.
I have to go now. Said an old man with an eye patch.
That story was so real. Did any of this really happened? Said a second man.
- This city is a place where any kind of feeling can become something else if you're not strong enough to deal with that. You have to take care for things like that not to happen. Enjoy your youth, don't waste it.