𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣 ┃𝗖.𝗠.𝗕

#2

There was an entire story made up, pages full of bullshit about his interests and family, not a single word of it true other than his name. 

"What's this for?" 

he kept his voice calm although his body was on high alert.  The Boss straightened up. 

"Robert Y/L/N  is not like every other man, he has security on him at all times and an extra secret study which he lets nobody enter. You can not just take care of him like everybody else, I need you to find out some  information first about his background ... his personal life. " 

"His love life?"  Corbyn snorted. 

"His family" The Boss corrected in an irritated tone. 

"You want me to meet him? Become his friend?" Corbyn tried not to laugh. 

"That is not your usual style, you know. Are you going soft?" 

The Boss raised an eyebrow to warn him and continued on, his thick arms across his bulky chest. 

"You are going to turn up at their house beaten and bruised, claiming that you got attacked and that you have nowhere else to go. They will let you stay there ... his wife has a particularly kind nature..you will find what  you need and then finish off the job.
You came from a broken household that kicked you out, moving to Canada and now you have nobody. Wandering the streets, someone hurt you real bad and you stopped at the first house that you saw for help . " 

Corbyn raised an eyebrow. 

"You expect them to believe that?"  He leaned forward. 

"Make them believe it, Besson." 

Corbyn looked down, a memory returning from the first time that he was taken in by the agency. 

After his parents were found dead he had nobody and The Boss trained him up, making him one of the best eighteen year olds in America that never missed a single shot.  After all those years of training, Corbyn had never turned a job down and had never felt hesitation, he knew that this job would be no different that something to get him money.

"we got a deal? "

The Boss asked. Corbyn nodded.

" Yeah, but why do I feel like there will be a catch .. "
The Boss chuckled slightly but it was off.

" Oh, Corbyn ... you always could see right  through me.  I am afraid there is one more detail that you need to be aware of.  You will not just be disposing of Robert Y/L/N in his house, but there is one more family member that you need to be aware of. "

" You want me to kill his wife? "

Corbyn  shrugged nonchalantly. His face was bored for a  moment until his lips turned upwards into an evil smirk that set Corbyn on edge.

He knew that there really was more to the story than the man was letting on, and this job seemed so different to what he was normally used to. The Boss leaned  forward.

"I want you to kill his daughter,
Y/n Y/l/n."

--

Corbyn narrowed his eyes at the gates before him, the castle-like house enclosed between several pointed trees.  There were several windows and a long cobblestone track that led down to the high front door, an ominous atmosphere only reinforced by the rain.  Security was intense with several night vision cameras at the gate and a posh mailbox spelling the last name y/l/n. 

Corbyn scanned his moods and wondered what the mansion was like on a clear street, no other yards around just to show how private this family really was. 

Corbyn's  hair were slicked down by on his forehead from the rain, his cheekbones knotted from where the training crew made a number on him. 

Boss did not believe in makeup, he preferred for his agents to take blows like the men he made them.  Corbyn  only hoped that this family would be as generous as it had been described to him, otherwise everything would be sour with the boss not having anyone to take it out on anyone but Corbyn himself. 

The camera zooms in on him, a silent beep that was heard between the raindrops until the gates slowly opened, letting him slide inside. 

"Name?"  asked a man at the door. Corbyn rattled his brain, stuttering out his words. 

"I-I do not know anyone here ... they will not know who I am. A g-group attacked me and I only saw this place.can I speak to the owner about using a phone or something?" 

The man crossed his arms over his chest.

"There's a telephone box down the street." 

Corbyn's gaze ran over to the woman who had opened the door, a dressing gown around her slim form as her eyes scanned him worriedly. 

Her hair was a chestnut brown color, curled into a tight bun with small ringlets around her eyebrows, her eyes kind. 

"Oh, Edgar, the poor boy is clearly freezing and wet. Where are your manners? Let him in already, we can help get him cleaned up" the woman scolded. 

Corbyn sent the security guard a fake smile.  The man watched him closely, narrowing his eyes as the lanky figure entered the huge doorway.  Corbyn's shoes squelched across the floor leaving slight muddy puddles, the woman guiding him with comforting smiles as they walked into the warm living room. 

The house had a grand staircase, lots of ugly art work with expensive gold frames encasing them, leading to the plush sofas with velvet cushions.  Corbyn held in an eye roll at how rich the family was, several tall bookcases in sight as well as at least five doors all in the hallway.