𝓛𝓮𝓸𝓷 𝓚𝓮𝓷𝓷𝓮𝓭𝔂| 𝗜𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀 𝗕𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝟯

I Hate What I've Become

I feel it deep within
It's just beneath the skin
I must confess that I feel like a monster
I hate what I've become
The nightmare's just begun
I must confess that I feel like a monster
I, I feel like a monster
I, I feel like a monster

-Monster by Skillet

Leon POV:

My breathing doesn't change as I finally stand straighter, the silence blanketing around me as I stare down at the multiple bodies now scattered in the hotel corridor. My team are behind me, already checking in and waiting for their next orders. I glance at the walls, the bright red hues contrast the beige paint, seems like an improvement if you ask me.

"Agent Kennedy, do we head back down or...?" A rookie agent asks behind me, but I ignore him, my eyes narrow as I look up once more, a shadow darts around the corner. Without giving any orders, my team doesn't follow me as I hop over the bullet filled bodies, chasing the stray who almost slipped through my fingers. Doors pass in a blur as I skid around the corner, the sound of footsteps racing up the stairs tells me exactly where my target is heading to. I race after them, forcing myself to move faster as I storm up the stairs, taking two at a time as the figure peeks over the balcony only a couple floor above me, his face full of terror. Damn right it should be.

I grunt as my muscles begin to burn, even at twenty nine I'm beginning to feel the years of constant fighting and being on the go, never having more than a few weeks to actually settle and have some time to myself. I finally hear a door slam open against the wall, but I curse under my breath for not knowing which floor the stray is at. When I make it to the next floor, luck appears to be on my side when I see a dent in the plaster. I open the door with force, then aim my gun as I slowly prowl down the hallway, ears pricking for any signs of life.

I hear it, the heavy breathing of someone trying to hold a hand over their mouth, clever boys like these should know it only makes it worse. I hold my gun up, two hands on it as I swing my body around and turn to the small nook in the wall, lo and behold revealing the stray. My eyes widen for a second, but I shove down the shock of his young age, seemingly not much older than myself.

"You made a bad decision working for these guys, buddy." I mumble, taking a deep breath as the guy shakes, holding up his hands in a surrender. At this moment, I finally close off the slither of humanity left in me as I pull the trigger, the sound deafening as it echoes down the corridor. The body slumps back against the wall, a lone tear streaking down his cheek.

I stare, but feel nothing. God, this fucking job. I click on my earpiece, immediately it directs me to Hunnigan. "Mission accomplished." I mumble.

"Good. The organisation should crumble from here on out, now that the suppliers are gone. Nobody else should be dumb enough to join up."

I snort at Hunnigan's words. "Don't get your hopes up. There's always more." I curtly say, then disconnect the line. Moments later, my team comes running down the hall to me, all looking concerned and ready for someone to guide them out of this shitshow.

Being the calm and collected agent I need to be, I give them the next order. "Call for cleanup. Make sure this place is locked down whilst they're here, I don't want anyone seeing what's in here if they can help it."

"Sir, yes sir!" They salute, then I put my gun away and head to the elevator, blankly looking away from the dead body slouched on the floor. I just sigh, annoyed that I'm going to have to take my shoes to the dry cleaners.

As the doors close, a mirror is revealed, showing me my bloodied suit and disheveled hair. My eyes look lifeless, I may as well be one of the dead guys. I can't stand to look any longer, so I resort to closing my eyes, but it doesn't take away the view of blood and destruction. My fists clench, I feel like a monster for doing all this, but it's not like I have a choice.

Soon enough I find myself at the private air strip, where a private jet is waiting to take me back home to DC. My eyes widen as a familiar figure comes bounding down the steps, her hair blowing in the evening wind. All too soon I'm being tackled into a tight hug, her arms around me, holding me together like glue. I don't hug back, I'm not in the right mindset yet, but I rest my chin on her shoulder, a small sign that I care and am here, in some form anyway.

My girl takes my hand, leading me up the steps before gently pushing me onto the plush seat. She takes the one opposite me, doing up her belt, and then the jet begins to takeoff. Once given the all clear, she stands again, heading to bathroom then comes back with a warm damp cloth. She kneels down, wiping my knuckles, then my hands, then she goes back to rinse it. This time she works off my suit jacket, then washes my arms, neck and rinses again, then finally she works on my face, her breath warm on mine as she leans close and wipes away the blood and the day.

I don't feel any better, I still feel...diety inside. Like my very soul is bloodstained, and I'll never be able to get it clean. She tries though, and knows I'm currently shut down, in that headspace where I don't feel human. She  still doesn't say anything, but instead perches on my lap and loops her arms around my neck, pulling my face to her chest as she rubs my back.

I steadily breathe in and out, the scent of her perfume and the smell of our laundry detergent fills me, giving me a sense of home and security. I close my eyes, now feeling like I can reach up and hug her back, my hands press her closer to me as I shudder. "I'm so sorry." She whispers, not apologising for anything she's done, but for what I've had to go through.

I stay silent. Eventually, she stands and holds out her hand, eyes flicking to the bed in the back. I figure there's still around four hours until we're back home, so I link my fingers with hers and let her guide me to it. She helps me undress and put on some casual clothes, then she lies on her back and opens her arms, an invitation for me to join her. I do, climbing between her legs with my head on her stomach I settle, but my shoulders are stiffer than a plank of wood, and I can't seem to allow myself to just feel.

As soon as she wraps one arm around my back and another begins to run through my dark strands do I start to unwind. First I deflate my chest, exhaling deeply before then unclenching my jaw and fists, then I finally feel all of my weight, dropping it onto the mattress and relaxing as I do. Y/N doesn't say anything, she just hums in approval as I let my eyes close, the gentle feeling over her touch eases me, and the background noise of the plane seems to be constant enough to lull me.

I feel my metaphorical claws begin to retract as I shed the monster I become on the job, I begin to feel human again as the thought of how much I love this woman consumes me, and as I lie awake but stay still, I breathe and hate what I've become, but know that no matter what I've got Y/N to always bring me back to life, one tender touch at a time.