Season 3 chapter 15
The Top-Class Assassin
Leon snatched the paper, reading the address with a deeply wicked, victorious smirk.
"Excellent," Leon purred, folding the paper and slipping it into his pocket. "Okay, let me verify this intelligence immediately. But before I dispatch the strike team, I want you to officially meet the man who will be executing the hit."
Leon turned toward a side door in the meeting hall, clapping his hands together twice.
"Hey! You impoverished bastard! Can you please come in here?!" Leon shouted imperiously.
The side door clicked open. Filoska braced herself, expecting a terrifying, heavily armored ninja or a massive, scarred mercenary to walk into the room.
Instead, a completely average, highly exhausted-looking man shuffled into the meeting hall. He was wearing a slightly wrinkled tactical jacket, cheap boots, and he had a half-eaten sandwich in his hand. He chewed loudly, staring at Leon with absolute, unfiltered annoyance.
"Hey. What the fuck is your actual problem, man?" the assassin groaned, taking another bite of his sandwich. "Why do you have to yell like that, you pretentious, royal pain in the ass?"
Filoska blinked. The absolute disrespect in the room was staggering.
Leon's jaw clenched. His face turned a deep, furious shade of crimson.
"Okay, assassin," Leon seethed, trying desperately to maintain his royal authority in front of Filoska. "I do not think you fully grasp who you are talking to, you insolvent, ungrateful brat! Have some fucking respect for the crown!"
The assassin stopped chewing. He slowly swallowed his food, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and glared directly into Leon's eyes.
"First of all, I am thirty-six years old," the assassin stated flatly, sounding incredibly offended. "Do not call me a fucking brat. Second of all, I am not some desperate, impoverished beggar. And third of all... you only paid me three hundred and sixty credits to take this contract!"
The Budget Strike Team
The entire room went completely, dead silent.
Filoska stared at the assassin, absolutely dumbfounded.
Leon froze, his eyes widening in pure, unadulterated shock. His brain completely failed to process the number.
"Three... three hundred and sixty credits?" Leon stammered, his formal royal accent completely evaporating.
"Yes!" the assassin yelled, throwing his hands in the air. "Three hundred and sixty fucking credits! Do you know what I can buy with that in this economy?! I can buy exactly three premium potatoes and a bus ticket! You hired me to assassinate two heavily armed trillionaire Managing Directors, and you paid me the equivalent of a fucking grocery store coupon!"
Leon looked like he was about to physically pass out. He was the wealthiest royal in the Republic of DI. He possessed billions in ancestral wealth. He had told his personal guard to spare absolutely no expense in hiring the most lethal, top-tier assassins in the global underground to take out Kniya and Malesh.
And his guard had outsourced the assassination to a guy eating a sandwich for the price of thirty dozen eggs.
"Oh my fucking God," Leon breathed, his hands trembling as he realized the sheer, catastrophic incompetence of his own security staff.
Leon spun around, facing the heavy wooden doors leading to the hallway. He inhaled a massive lungful of air, completely losing every single ounce of his royal dignity.
"GUARDS!" Leon shrieked at the top of his lungs, his voice echoing violently off the high ceilings. "GUARDS, GET YOUR FUCKING ASSES IN HERE RIGHT NOW!"
The Reverse Negotiation
The heavy wooden doors of the meeting hall violently swung open again.
The incredibly disrespectful personal guard strolled right back into the room, completely ignoring the fact that he had just been screamed at by the most powerful royal in the country. He crossed his arms and looked at Leon with an expression of pure, unadulterated annoyance.
"What's the problem with you, you royal idiot?" the guard sighed heavily. "Do you think I am a free guy? I was in the middle of a break."
Leon's eye twitched so hard it looked painful. He pointed a shaking finger at the guard.
"No, you are literally a pain in my fucking ass!" Leon roared. "And you are literally fired! Again! Look at this guy you hired! Why didn't you assign a good, expensive assassin to this case instead of this sandwich-eating bastard?!"
The guard awkwardly cleared his throat, suddenly looking a little defensive.
"Sir, it was not like that," the guard explained, gesturing toward the assassin. "We first told him that we will pay exactly one million credits for the corporate hit. But he was the one who told us that he is not going to take that much amount. He explicitly said that three hundred and sixty credits would be more than enough for the job. And that is exactly why we are only paying him three hundred and sixty credits, sir. We are under budget."
Filoska stared blankly at the wall. This entire royal estate was populated by actual insane people.
Leon dragged his hands down his face in absolute exasperation. "Oh God, what is wrong with these kind of people?! They always take everything with their ego! Who the fuck aggressively negotiates their own salary downward by a million credits?!"
The Resume of a Killer
Leon took a deep breath, aggressively straightening his diamond-cufflinked suit to regain some fraction of his royal dignity. He turned his attention back to the tired-looking man finishing his sandwich.
"Okay, Assassin," Leon demanded haughtily, crossing his arms. "Tell me what your actual capabilities and achievements are. Or whatever you want to tell me to justify why you belong in my highly classified royal meeting."
The assassin swallowed his last bite of food, wiped his hands on his tactical jacket, and looked at Leon with absolutely zero intimidation.
"Well, sir," the assassin stated, his voice completely flat. "I have completed many high-level, black-ops missions without a single failure. Including successfully killing the sitting President of a sovereign nation."
Leon scoffed loudly, waving a dismissive hand in the air.
"Oh, please. Bragging about his skills," Leon mocked arrogantly, looking at Filoska for validation that she absolutely did not provide. "I can also do that very easily. Huh, it is so easy. Killing a politician just requires a basic bribe and a slightly competent sniper. Do not act like you are special."
The assassin just stared at him, completely unfazed by the royal's delusional superiority complex.
"And by the way," Leon continued, pacing around the mahogany table like an interrogator. "What is your official rank in the underground assassin list of RW? Are you even in the top fifty?"
The assassin let out a long, exhausted sigh, like he was explaining basic alphabet letters to a toddler.
"Basically, according to the network sources," the assassin replied dryly, "I am currently ranked first in three completely different global lists of assassins. And yeah, I have a professional experience of exactly five years in the field."
Code Name Muntari
Leon stopped pacing. Being ranked number one on three separate underground RW lists was not just impressive—it was legendary. It meant this guy was essentially the grim reaper in a cheap jacket.
Leon swallowed his pride, realizing the man standing in front of him could probably dismantle his entire royal guard with a butter knife.
"Okay," Leon said, his formal tone returning, though slightly more cautious this time. "What is your name? Can you please at least tell me that thing?"
The assassin looked at Leon, his eyes completely dead and cold.
"No," the assassin replied bluntly. "Assassins don't usually tell their real name to clients. It is a massive security liability."
Leon opened his mouth to yell at him, but the assassin raised a single finger to stop him.
"But yeah," the assassin continued smoothly. "My secret underground code name is Muntari. M-U-N-T-A-R-I. Do not misspell it on the final receipt."
The Dubbed Interrogation
Leon pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a massive headache forming behind his eyes. He glared at the highly disrespectful personal guard who was still standing by the heavy wooden doors.
"Okay, guard," Leon sighed, completely exhausted by the insubordination. "Now you can go. Just get the fuck out of this meeting hall so I can conduct highly classified royal business."
The guard rolled his eyes, gave a sloppy, sarcastic salute, and finally exited the room, pulling the heavy doors shut behind him.
Leon took a deep, centering breath. He aggressively adjusted his tie, standing tall and trying to project the terrifying, formal aura of the absolute head of the royal family. He turned toward Filoska, lacing his hands behind his back.
"Let's get to the main point, Filoska," Leon began, his voice dropping into a dark, threatening register. "The royal family has infinite resources. We see everything. And if you don't help us—"
"—we will kidnap you and sell your internal organs on the black market," Muntari the assassin interrupted smoothly, taking another bite of his sandwich.
Filoska blinked, completely caught off guard.
Leon froze, his formal royal posture instantly shattering. He spun around and glared at the cheap assassin.
"Oh, God! Why the fuck are you speaking in between my sentences?!" Leon shrieked, completely losing his temper. "I was doing a monologue! I was just saying that if you try to fool us—"
"—I will absolutely not spend this night with you," Muntari interrupted again, staring blankly at Filoska while chewing loudly.
Filoska's face twisted into pure disgust. "Ew. What?"
"What the actual crap are you literally saying right now?!" Leon roared, throwing his hands in the air. "Please be quiet for some time! Let me finish my fucking words! You are literally ranked as one of the most powerful assassins in the entire world, and you are a literal pain in my ass! Stop dubbing my threats with your weird, degenerate thoughts!"
Muntari just shrugged, swallowing his food. "I am just trying to build the psychological tension, sir. It is part of my service."
"I am not paying you for psychological tension! I am paying you three hundred and sixty credits to kill people!" Leon screamed.