Thread: Head Hunters. (Open and Accepting)

'When all hope is lost, the only thing I put my faith into is the bullet that goes through your brain...' There was no loud discharge of a rifle or the flash of muzzle fire. No, Leone Durante Angelo was never one for loud noises and flashing lights. Especially when it came to his work . He peered up over the scope of his HK MSG90, watching the zombie fall to the ground with a new hole to breathe out of. It only joined its brothers and sisters in a heaping pile of rotting zombie carcasses, already a flock of crows circling above. Anyone would understand what this was. It was the universal symbol that something was dead, and the crows were ready to tear at it. Leone was not interested in watching them dine, so after picking himself up and throwing on his hood, the Head Hunter began to walk over to the black and red sports bike he had found in Normandy a few weeks ago. It made a hell of a lot of noise, which pissed him off to no end, but it sure beat walking to the Louvre. Oh. He said to no one in particular, leaning against the bike while slinging the rifle across his back. From his pockets, he pulled out a small pencil and notepad. Flipping through the pages, they all had dashes with a diagonal slash across four of them to signal a fifth dash. On the front of the notepad read Head Shots. After several page turns, he came to where he had left off, and immediately put down the number of head shots he got from this group. There. 99. The notepad and pencil went back into their rightful home. Straddling the motorcycle, he then brought it to life and drove down the road. It would not be too long. The Louvre was in sight, the hooded Hunter stopping right before the gates until the soldiers outside identified who he was. Being from Italy himself, they were a bit more familiar with Leone than possibly the other Head Hunters, though he was not sure if his stories outdid those of the others. In fact, how many were there? The call he received only said other Head Hunters, no specific number given. He thought upon this even as he came inside, pulling off to the side to keep the motorcycle away from the bloody looking ambulance and the other flashy looking motorcycle. That one simply gave him a headache as he imagined the loud noises it gave off. How annoying. Mr. Angelo, correct? I've been ordered to esco- Leone held up his hand, as if to silence him for a moment. Holding the keys in his hand, he suddenly tossed them to the soldier, giving a light grunt as he walked passed him. Hate that thing, take it. And I don't care what you were ordered to do. Take me wherever I'm s'posed to go, and then get out of my face. The cold tone of an Italian accent poured from his lips, eyes burning with an obvious detest for being here. He was quite content with sitting on top of the old apartment where he used to live, but now he had to help these fools? If it was not for the money, Leone would have said no. The soldier was at a loss for words at the rude reply, but simply gave a nod and lead him through the Louvre. Leone kept his eyes forward, even with the beautiful, creative art that they passed by. They were soon placed in an elevator, and the descent down began. It was then that another soldier cleared his throat and spoke. Mr. Angelo, how did you do it? Do what? Leone asked with an aggravated tone. What you did. You were pretty much right in the middle of a highly populated zone when the outbreak began. And, rumors say that you even killed your own family once they turned. How did you do it? The soldier asked again, adjusting the rifle slung on his shoulder. The Head hunter crossed his arms and remained silent for a minute. Whether it be he was contemplating his answer or simply ignoring the soldier was unknown. The curious soldier rubbed the back of his head and then stood there as the ride soon came to an end, the doors opening as they began to walk out. Leone exited first and then looked over his shoulder. The soldier looked back in surprise, a bit nervous. They wanted to kill me, so I killed them first. Simple as that. He said without much emotion, the walk to the resting quarters short and sweet as he entered and left the other soldiers that escorted him. Once inside, Leone immediately spotted the occupants. Two Head Hunters and a soldier with rank. Afternoon. Was all he said to everyone before looking around, not bothering to find which cot would be his. Instead, he just chose a random one and set the bag, rifle, and holster that held his submachine gun down. It was a heavy weight off his shoulder, allowing the Head Hunter to let out a small, quiet sigh. He needed ammunition as soon as he could grab it. However, he had a feeling he would have to wait for the other Head Hunters. Patience was never one of his virtues. Only when it came to getting a headshot.