Morning light filtered into the room. Hunter stretched, sitting up on the messy sofa.
He glanced around the apartment. It was even more chaotic than before.
Ironically, his "kindhearted neighbor" had come over to "help him organize," but the place ended up looking like a tornado had hit it.
Hunter reached into his Personal Inventory, grabbed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
He lit one up, his eyes landing on several used wrappers scattered on the floor.
Buying those condoms after meeting Mia was the best investment I've ever made.
He hadn't expected his new neighbor to be that enthusiastic.
It was almost surreal.
They had just met. She offered to help move boxes. Then they moved to the sofa.
Then... spontaneous combustion. The neighbor's passion was like a wildfire—intense and unstoppable.
They had been at it for over two hours.
The result? The apartment, which he had just started to organize, was a disaster zone again.
The brand-new bed sheets and comforter he had just bought? Soaked. They'd need dry cleaning before he could use them again.
Even the mattress needed to be aired out.
Note to self: Buy a waterproof mattress protector. Or stock up on absorbent towels.
It was late May, the most comfortable time of year in Los Angeles.
He hadn't turned on the AC last night, just cracked a window. Thanks to the fresh air, the room didn't smell too funky when he woke up.
Hunter finished his cigarette, crushed the butt in an ashtray, and got up to clean the battlefield.
After a quick shower and a simple breakfast, he pulled out his laptop.
He spent the morning setting up his internet connection and then began teaching himself programming and computer science, grinding his new skill.
After lunch, he left the apartment.
He emailed his new address to Mia.
Based on their last call, he suspected Dom had grounded her again.
So, he didn't call.
I'll wait a few days.
Then I'll "accidentally" discover Brian working at the parts shop.
That's when I call Mia and drop the bomb: "Hey, that FBI agent who interrogated me? He's working at Harry's now."
That will kill any chance Brian has with her. And Dom will owe me another favor.
After that, he can't possibly object to his "savior" dating his sister.
As for Vince and the others? Hunter didn't care about them before, and he certainly didn't care now.
He spent the afternoon at a boxing gym, then headed to a shooting range to practice his marksmanship.
Afterward, he browsed a massive gun store nearby.
Rows upon rows of firearms—pistols, shotguns, SMGs, semi-auto rifles, sniper rifles.
It was a candy store for men.
Hunter marveled at American gun culture but could only stare longingly at the price tags.
The civilian versions of the military-grade weapons he wanted cost five figures. His wallet was still too light for that.
These "Gun Supermarkets" were everywhere in the US. You could buy almost anything, albeit in a semi-automatic, civilian-legal configuration.
Hunter settled for buying several boxes of 9mm ammo with his ID, then left the store, looking back reluctantly at the rifles he couldn't afford.
Still no call from Charlie.
Hunter wasn't worried. Stealing a ton of gold from Steve wasn't a simple job. In the movie, they spent months planning the Venice heist. He could wait.
He stopped in Chinatown to buy groceries.
Finding a secluded corner, he stashed everything into his Personal Inventory.
He had discovered a new feature: Time Stasis.
Items stored in the inventory didn't change state.
Yesterday, he had bought ice cream and cold beer. When he took them out hours later to put them in the fridge, they were still frozen solid.
If I had known that earlier, I wouldn't have spent hundreds on a new fridge.
But electronics were cheap in the US, so he didn't dwell on it.
Back at his apartment building.
No elevator. Six floors.
As he trudged up the stairs, an idea struck him.
I wonder if Rock Climbing or Parkour would unlock new skills?
The thought excited him. If Charlie and Parker didn't call soon, he'd go find some extreme sports to test the theory.
He reached the fourth-floor landing.
Hunter's enhanced smell picked up the scent of cigarette smoke.
He looked up. Through the gap in the stairwell, he saw legs dangling from the landing above.
He climbed another flight.
Sitting on the stairs near the sixth floor was a young girl.
She had a bob cut and couldn't be older than twelve or thirteen.
She was smoking a cigarette with practiced ease, looking bored.
As Hunter looked at her, she looked back at him.
Their eyes met.
Hunter's mouth twitched.
Yesterday, he had felt a vague sense of familiarity with his passionate blonde neighbor. He couldn't quite place where he had seen that "milfy" face before.
He had dismissed it as a coincidence.
But now?
Seeing this rebellious, smoking girl on the stairs...
A dormant memory unlocked.
Mathilda.
This is 'Léon: The Professional'.
Wow. This world really is a mess.
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