Assassin [H.S.]

Fourty-Seven

04:35am
Date: May 10th, 2018
Location: unknown

44 hours left (2 days)...

Harry Styles

*flashback 5 years earlier*

"Let's go Styles."

A voice wakes me from my sleep as I only got 5 hours in before our final training weeks have started. I groan beneath my pillow, resisting the urge to even let my feet touch the ground.

"Get up cadet. You're wanted immediately."

Marcus really loves to make my days worse here as I continue to rot underground.

My head rises up. "Fuck, It's not even 6 am for training schedules." The flickering of the light bulb messes with my eyes, creating a disenchantment from even going back to sleep.

"It's not me who wants to see you, Styles." The agent speaks in a more serious tone and that's when I startle myself, flipping over sheets and sitting straight up.

"Then who?" I ask for reassurance.

"Take a wild guess."

There's definitely no jokes about that. But I can already foreshadow why I was the only one awakened at 4 in the morning.

He nudges his head up. "Get dressed. I'll be outside to escort you."

Marcus leaves his position from the open door frame and turns a sharp left. I start heading over to the small dresser, where I take out my cargo pants for the only appropriate bottoms.

I usually sleep without my shirt but some nights I keep my shirt on, continuing the habituation of getting used to it . It's been a while after some things and a few rumors went on for weeks after the little incident.

But this shit doesn't faze my interior motives for the next remaining years. I'll even just have people drop dead as soon as they realize who is shooting the gun in front of their pathetic face.

I take my pair of scuffed up boots and run my fingers through my hair, just to make myself a little more presentable. It's not like the queen of england is here but with who I'm facing expects a lot more in the presence of their own kind.

I take one final look in the mirror, inhaling a sharp breath through my nostrils and grip the door handle to Marcus, standing sternly without emotion.

My feet start walking ahead of him until his hand takes a hold of my elbow.

"Woah, there bud." He stops to take something from the back of his pockets. "You think I'd let the commander see you walk out free?"

The silver chains of handcuffs click together as he holds it right up from his index finger.

I scoff. "Pff. I thought they were gonna let me go just this one time." I shrug my shoulders. "It's only been 2 weeks Marc, give the man a rest for once." I plead.

That only earns me a half grin, which usually gives me a sign of tough luck from Marcus.

"Nice try, cowboy. Now let's get moving. He loathes on late punctuality."

The sharp take of the cuffs pinch my skin together, my back muscles forced to scrunch up to each other. He makes them so goddamn tight.

"Fucks sake, Marcus. It's not like I've been transferred to Alcatraez." There's no way I've gotten comfortable every day for the last week or so, reminding of how much I've been making whispers and grueling punches with the people in this system.