A word from the wise, Mister Detective - you can't hunt down a God like an animal.
Leon couldn't really see this as a bad thing - after all, it made his life a hell of a lot easier, didn't it? He was looking for D. All he had to look for was a splash of colour in the mist, a voice that stood out, light glittering off long painted nails.
And that's what he found on a street in some anonymous city, stood under a streetlamp and watching him approach on the opposite side of the street.
The wrong colours and the wrong nails, and a beautiful face that was exactly the same but completely different to D's. It was a start.
Leon stopped, hands in his pockets, and met the eyes of D's grandfather with a smirk.
They didn't speak. D's grandfather was a mass of black cloak fluttering in the breeze, gold eyes narrowed and lips a thin slash of red across his face. Leon was just Leon.
The ex-detective had, after the explosion and the ship, when he was doped up to the eyeballs on pain meds, had more than a few nightmares about D's granddad. There was just something about the fact that this psychopath was the one D had trusted to keep an eye on Chris, albeit in a different form. The one Chris loved and played with. The one who'd spent his life preaching that "All humans must die" shit to his kid and grandkid. The one who knew exactly where Leon Orcot's little brother lived.
Yeah. He'd lost a bit of sleep over that.
But there was some perverse pleasure in standing in front of the man, scruffy and alive with his hands in his pockets (although, if he'd had his gun...) and a smirk plastered across his face that almost balanced out the way the man made his skin crawl.
The rest of the fear was balanced by the fact that the Count was wearing on of D's expressionless expressions - the polite blankness that usually meant "I'm trying to work out whether I should waste the effort to think of something acidic enough to penetrate even your thick skull, or whether I should just pretend you don't exist." - and it pissed him off. Not even D was allowed to try that, and Leon liked D. Kinda.
They didn't speak.
Finally, someone sighed exasperatedly. Not Leon - and from the way the old man's eyes widened it wasn't him either, although the sound came from his direction.
Light footsteps, and part of that stupid cloak was pushed out the way so a small, delicate child could walk past. D's granddad snatched at the air, but the kid was too fast for him - his steps looked measured and slow, but he'd gone from the old (and yet strangely young looking) man's side to the kerb in front of Leon before either of them realised.
The blond man stared down at the kid, taking in the dress - it looked like a scaled down version of one of D's - and the long straight black hair and the violet eyes, looking up at him. Leon took a half step back without thinking - the eyes were in a child's face, but the expression and emotion in them belonged to an adult. No kid could hate that much, surely.
"You don't recognise me, do you Detective?" the boy murmured, sounding amused and scarily like D. The small, polite small the boy had worn twisted slightly into the smirk he'd been wearing when he died, and Leon's heart stopped in his chest.
"Jesus Christ," the american whispered. "Jesus fucking Christ."
"No," the kid said amiably. "But you do know who I am now, don't you?"
'"Wait a minute! You're D's old man!"
"Old man... That has such an odd ring to it."'
"Yeah," Leon whispered hoarsely. "Yeah, I do." And god, if that wasn't freakier than D's granddad, nothing was. He hadn't wanted his gun this badly in ages. Last shot or first shot, the violet eyed freak deserved it.
D's father - or the kid that used to be D's father - leaned forwards, smiling conspiratorially. "A word from the wise, Mister Detective. You'll never find him. You can't hunt down a god like an animal."
Fabric cracked, and D's grandfather - who had, as far as Leon knew, been staring at his grandson with his mouth hanging open - stormed forwards, cloak snapping around him. He snatched the kid away from Leon, hissing what sounded like curses in chinese, and took off. D's father smirked at Leon as he was dragged away, saluting him mockingly.
They vanished as soon as they stepped out of the light,
Leon, alone, grit his teeth, going for a cigarette. "Can't hunt down a god like an animal?" he asked the night air, lighter clicking. "Just fucking watch me."