Léon: The Cat Killer

Léon: The Cat Killer

Author: Beyond the Boundary

Introduction:

As an assassin registered in Columbia and currently working part-time in Rhode Island's HR department, codenamed No. 77, Nana is preparing props for a mission.

The WA2000 sniper rifle features a long barrel and short overall length, allowing it to be carried in an inconspicuous vehicle. Its .300 caliber specially etched rounds, combined with Originium Arts spells, can take the target along with their armor and cover.

M1911·ICA Custom Edition – Features a grip designed to fit a young woman's hand, .45 caliber etched ammunition, and a standard seven-round magazine… suitable for use with concealed thigh and armpit holsters. Note the weight of the all-metal design; be careful not to let the gear slip off your bodysuit.

Nylon rope—Nana's signature weapon... You can legitimately carry it with you by replacing it with a paracord bracelet.

Then, what else is needed?

……

[Are you leaving already? Have you packed everything...? Don't wait until you need something and realize you don't have it on you, then start searching everywhere.]

He glanced at the semi-transparent woman in front of him, then looked through the shadow to the doorway:

"rosemary?"

The white kitten, as white as a cloud, heard the call, twitched its ears, and stood up.

"I'm here."

"let's go."

1st Rosemary Embrace: 001 Killer No. 77

Assassin, an ancient and complex profession.

Those with exceptional skills may view assassins as mere brutes wielding knives and clubs, while ordinary people see them as brutal and bloodthirsty villains. Only those within the industry and familiar with Columbia Pictures would understand that the upstart registered as 'No.77' has set a new industry standard.

Quiet, precise, unassuming, and unassuming... It seems like everyone in a similar profession strives for this, but only case number seventy-seven has been sung as a classic.

Sometimes, without records kept by the client and intermediary broker, you might even think that the targets were just unlucky and died suddenly in a low-probability accident.

Thus, in Colombia, where corporate capital flows back and forth and business battles and revenge never fizzle out, being an assassin, aside from sounding illegal... is surprisingly a lucrative profession.

So, as the pinnacle of local industry legend and the center of a storm of conflicting opinions, what are No.77's own thoughts?

The answer is that she doesn't want to think about anything... She is currently sitting on a bench by the pedestrian street in the business district, holding a newspaper with a focused expression, just like an ordinary person who is usually troubled by making a living.

Although she is least adept at recognizing written languages ​​from various countries, and the difficulty of reading articles in Colombian newspapers varies greatly due to the different levels of the contributors... but that doesn't matter, since normal people wouldn't bother to come to a busy square and read newspapers under the scorching sun.

As the whistle signaling the start of a loudspeaker sounded from a corner of the square in the distance, the girl in the white shirt, black suit, and red tie, like the passersby around her, seemed to be drawn in and put down the newspaper she was holding—which she used for disguise and also to pass the time while waiting for her target.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Excuse me, could you please look here? Yes, here~"

The speakers were turned on, and intense, dynamic music began to bombard the street.

The man, also dressed in a suit, greeted everyone on the street with great enthusiasm. Seemingly sensing the gazes, the host on the stage even waved to the black-haired film girl who had just put down her newspaper on the bench.

"We are members of the marketing department at the Loken Water Tank Research Institute, and we are honored to have received government permission to publicly showcase our research and some of our finished products here..."

Ignoring the enthusiastic sales pitch from his supposedly fellow professional, the black-haired Film first stood up, then patted the pleated skirt that matched the color of his suit.

The flowing skirt added a touch of youthful energy to the girl, something that professional attire lacked, while the flesh-colored black stockings peeking out from under the skirt were clearly unsuitable for the girl's age and the naivety they conveyed.

Black hair, black clothes, and black skirts are not suitable for black stockings. Wearing flesh-colored stockings can highlight the charm of the leg lines and the maturity of personal temperament against dark clothing. This should not be a mistake for working women.

However, when paired with a pleated skirt, which is a common part of school uniforms, everyone will only see all the disharmony in her as the immaturity of a girl who has dropped out of school... After all, including her height of only 1.6 meters, all of this is part of the character design called 'Nana'.

The fact that the person simply transliterated 77 into Donggoku as 'Nai Nai' shows how indifferent they were to their name.

Or rather, she couldn't care even if she wanted to, since she had no memories of what happened before she joined the organization... and naturally, she couldn't recall something like a 'name' that should have been given to her by her parents.

As for the 'organization'... that's the reason the girl is now operating as an assassin.

[Seventy-seven, I'm glad you remembered to turn on the communicator on time without me having to remind you.]

Just as Nana was letting the sound waves make her cat ears droop down, she put on her Bluetooth headphones and then heard the voice of her supporter.

That was the organization's contact person, and also his agent in the 'assassin' business... a woman with a gentle voice.

As is customary, she, whose whereabouts are unknown, now begins to give Nana a briefing on the mission:

I'm sorry to suddenly drag you out of your home, but you understand, the conflicts in Colombia are a collection of conflicts from all over the world.

As a nation of immigrants, China has brought together technologies, ideas, and thoughts from all over the world… which inevitably includes some topics that have been discussed to death.

The war in Kazdel continues, and the persecution in Ursus is worsening... The increasing number of infected immigrants has forced even those of us who weren't initially concerned about Oripathy to pay attention to this issue.

[It's clear that allowing infected individuals to build their own facilities has increased labor costs for many businesses. In order to reduce expenses, they even considered turning the infected back into the 'beasts' they are treated in other countries.]

[The infected are ultimately patients; here it's a medical issue… The higher-ups don't want it to become a social problem like it is in other places.]

Listening impassively to the manager's pre-task ramblings, the black-haired girl maintained her facade, watching with interest as the host explained things on stage:

"...See that! As we all know, Originium power greatly interferes with remote control signals, but we have used advanced biotechnology to solve the miniaturization problem of Originium power products with common, primitive techniques..."

Simply put, even if you're not a professional drone operator and don't need painful learning and exams, you can directly operate home appliances using our relay technology... This means that magic is no longer the privilege of a few; everyone can enjoy the convenience of remotely operating home appliances, and our lives will truly enter the modern era..."

[Seventy-seven, the target of this operation, is a member of the executive committee of the Loken Water Tank. He is a 56-year-old male and an agent for a former noble family in Ursus. His style of doing things is very Ursusian.]

[Because of advocating for the human rights of infected individuals, he has gained support from many companies that are struggling to obtain human testing permits... But those people wanting cheap test subjects is one thing, and his impact on immigration to our country is another.]

Give him a lesson, seventy-seven... but be careful not to go too far; you know what's important.

The headphones stopped working, and Seventy-Seven joined the people next to her in applauding the host who had finished speaking on stage...

The staff at Loken Water Tank are now taking out those devices called 'transfer panels' for people to try out, while the target vehicle has stopped.

A man with bear ears, who looked fairly robust and was dressed in the style of Ursus nobles, got out of the car.

This guy, who seemed out of place with his surroundings and exuded an air of the old era, was protected by two bodyguards. He first looked at the event venue... Then a middle-aged man who was obviously a Colombian local just by looking at his suit hurriedly went over and bowed to shake hands, but his hand was slapped away. The target even took out a handkerchief to wipe his hands in disgust.

Because the distance wasn't very far, Seventy-Seven focused his attention and perked up his cat ears; their voices were very clear.

'You're the one in charge of this publicity campaign? This campaign... is actually being displayed to ordinary people on the street?'

"In Colombia, there is no distinction between nobles and commoners, Director."

"At least I should have my own seat! I'm here representing the investors to check on your research progress, and you're trying to fob me off with a row of cheap plastic chairs from a roadside stall?"

Perhaps even the venue manager was speechless at the other party's condescending attitude. Number 77 pretended to look at the 'sample' and then quietly left the edge of the stage while the staff were explaining the principles to others.

The girl casually tucked the sample into her arms and then looked around the entire area.

The stage for the Loken Water Tank is built in a corner of the pedestrian plaza, surrounded by open squares and shops that are open for business.

Fortunately, the massive flow of people was enough to provide cover, and Number 77 managed to find the open space created by using vehicles and two bodyguards to isolate the crowd.

I glanced over and saw that the Ursus man, the target, was still criticizing the venue manager over his personal reserved seat, maintaining an air of 'aristocratic etiquette'.

Number 77 also glanced at the vehicle behind the target, noticing that the back seat seemed to have been specially fitted with a purple velvet cover to highlight its special nature.

This person seems to care a lot about this.

"...If it were made to order, it would definitely be too late, and there's no such thing as a custom order. Director... Columbia has never had the idea of ​​preparing special seats for so-called nobles."

"But I'm not here as an aristocrat. I represent the board of directors. Do you expect the board to sit in flimsy plastic chairs while they speak?"

Seeing that the two seemed capable of arguing for a while longer, Number Seventy-Seven returned to the event venue. On the stage, several staff members moving tables and chairs seemed to be watching with great interest as the target and another person argued in the distance. Not far away, on plastic chairs, were piles of magic intermediary panels for display and sale.

The host, surrounded by a huge crowd below the stage in the distance, was explaining, "Although the panel contains Originium, it has sufficient safety measures in place and will not cause any danger."

Following the host's explanation of the structure, Number Seventy-Seven put on gloves and fiddled with the sample in her arms. Soon, the girl felt the leaked Originium radiation... This seemed to be different from the 'safety measures' the host had mentioned.

At least in the girl's mind, a product that she could easily disassemble and remove dangerous contents from could not be considered safe.

But Number 77 wasn't a quality inspector; she just wanted to finish her task quickly and go home.

After considering the target's statement and the requirements given by the manager, the girl decided how to deal with the target.

According to Seventy-Seven's personality, the best way to deal with such a boastful fellow is to humiliate him in public, which would be the most effective way to destroy his stubborn feudal will.

The 77th Congress could go to the trouble of preparing a chair specifically for it and sending it to the stage, then placing the 'damaged' sample underneath it, letting it experience the feeling of sitting in the special seat and becoming an infected person.

However, the agent said not to go too far, meaning not to let this become a public event... so things that could seriously affect Loken Water Tank and the investment company's stock price were not allowed.

So Seventy-Seven set her sights on the other party's private car.

After waiting for a while, the target seemed to have finished arguing, so he went on stage, sat in a purple plastic chair, and began to talk about things that no one was interested in.

At this point, the bodyguards would naturally follow to the stage to wait. Number 77 took out a name tag and pretended to hang it around his neck... This kind of thing that no one would look at would have an unexpected effect in this kind of place. For example, people would think that Number 77 was a staff member of the venue.

The girl swaggered around and opened the trunk of the car with a master key under the watchful eyes of countless people. Because of the blind spot on the stage, the two bodyguards could not see that the back of their car had been opened.

Number 77, in the manner of taking something from the trunk, sprinkled the crushed Originium crystals onto the target's seat, and then stuffed the disassembled sample shell into the seat gap.

Seventy-seven made it look like it had been damaged and fallen into something... She hoped that people would examine it and think about it after the incident.

The lesson is enough... The Originium crystals affected by spell number seventy-seven not only turned from their original bright red color to transparent, but the radiation itself became almost imperceptible.

On that vibrant purple cushion, a danger powerful enough to change a person's fate was thus laid out.

"That's it."

The girl replied to her agent on the other end of the earpiece, then took off her name tag and gloves and disappeared into the crowd.

1st Rosemary Embrace: 002 Matilda

No. 77 has different faces to face different situations, but Nana only has one face.

Compared to the elusive and unknown assassins, the girl named Nana has a very solid identity.

She was a fresh-faced, energetic newcomer to school, and also a seasoned newcomer to the company, hardened by the harsh realities of the workplace. With this double concealment of her appearance and attire, the young woman had a way to justify whatever image she presented.

Although no one knows exactly what Nana does, where she works, how much she earns, or what her circumstances are, her shy smile and the fact that she often carries a briefcase or suitcase as 'proof' of her identity as an insurance salesperson are certainly acknowledging.

Thus, the saleswoman from a Colombian company returned to the old town where no one cared what she really was; this was where Nana's home was.

Unlike the glamorous commercial district, the tallest building in the old town is only five stories high.

The two-lane road surface is sometimes paved with stones, sometimes with cracked cement... The former is proof of the pioneers' hard work, while the latter is the result of the former governor's campaign promise to carry out infrastructure projects.

However, before the governor could even finish renovating a few infrastructure projects in the old city, he was reported and suspended from his post for investigation. His aide then spoke about the Bolivarian War and allocated funds to the National Guard... which garnered enough votes, and the renovation project for the city's infrastructure was thus put on hold.

The utility poles here are now covered with small advertisements, and the ever-increasing electrical cables droop heavily, seemingly able to block out the sky at dusk.

When going home, remember to avoid a few special stones, some of which are even connected together. The girl habitually hugged her briefcase and jumped over them.

Of course, the reason for doing this was not because Nana had placed fragmentation mines underneath, but because the road surface had been in disrepair for many years, and the gaps were filled with sewage that seemed to never dry.

If you step directly on the stone, the foul-smelling puddles that have been accumulating for countless days will gush out, which could at least injure innocent civilians, or at worst contaminate leather shoes and black stockings, making it even more despicable than a landmine.

However, compared to this rudimentary infrastructure, the people in the old town have a lot to say.

Unlike the well-planned new urban areas and even commercial districts where everyone has their own patch of grass, people in the old city live in apartment buildings in the style of tenement buildings.

The red brick walls of the building are mottled, with withered ivy clinging to the ground, as the external steel staircase added after the fire safety regulations became their best climbing route.

There are no so-called community gardens here, only vegetable plots in front of individual doors. Shops, tailors, laundromats, barbershops, bakeries... all kinds of stores are concentrated on the ground floor of the street... Of course, if you add an external staircase, the second floor is also possible.

On the way, Nana saw several tables of elderly people leaning against the roadside, stacking dominoes. She smiled and nodded at the few overly friendly guys, acknowledging their presence. But compared to the elderly who kept their distance, the little guy was the one she needed to be extremely wary of.

"Ouch! It's mud!"

Accompanied by a child's scream that sounded like a banshee's howl at Nana, the black-haired Felin's cat ears immediately drooped down with a pained expression. But even though she was attacked by the noise, the incredibly flexible Miss Nana still managed to dodge a ball of mud.

Watching a group of boys with all sorts of different hair colors laugh and leave, I chased after them for a couple of steps and then threw them to the ground. The girl's petite figure, with her white and black hairs looking incredibly mottled, her face covered in mud, and the tears in her eyes made her look so weak and pitiful.

The young girl, Felin, whose once pure white hair was now matted with black clumps and whose eyes still had a hint of blue membrane, screamed and, seeing that she couldn't catch up with the mischievous boys, immediately burst into tears.

This was even more piercing than the previous screams of the little girl. Everyone on the street looked pained upon hearing the cries. The sound of a human infant calling for help even drew a policeman out of a police car at the intersection...

The man in the Colombian police uniform looked around and, realizing it wasn't a child abduction, looked at the girl whose face was covered in mud, then shouted towards the shop:

"The little white kitten is crying again! Where are your family members?! Quickly take her to get her cleaned up!"

The officer's shout was immediately answered, and two white-haired film boys with sour faces poked their heads out of the store:

"We're still working; if we leave now, we won't get paid..."

"Sister—Sister—! Matilda is crying again!"

The sound, like a soul being summoned, echoed through the street once again. The little boy, whose voice hadn't changed, could shout at a volume that was no less than that of the young girl. Soon, a slightly older silver-haired girl came out of the bakery.

Judging from the fact that she had a headscarf wrapped around her head, her sleeves rolled up, and her arms were still covered in flour, it was clear that her work at the bakery wasn't finished yet...

Nana was worried just looking at her. She had deliberately left work early to avoid the peak hours, and there was not much time left before the peak time when everyone would come back to buy dinner. Could she take care of her youngest sister at this critical moment?

The answer was clearly no. Faced with her youngest sister covered in mud, the silver-haired eldest daughter's expression turned pained. She couldn't touch her sister now; if she did, the boss would probably forbid her from touching the stove.