Hired. (Narry AU.)

Chapter One

"That man had a wife and kids," Harry thought, fishing through the man's wallet. He felt a strong pulse of remorse and regret as he followed through with the procedures he had grown accustomed to. Step one: Follow the target around, getting to know his daily schedule and actions. Step two: Get the target alone and out of sight, whether it be with force or persuasion. Step three: Kill the target. He glanced down to the pale corpse with the bloodied ring around his neck and shrugged. Check.

Step four: Getting the cadaver to a non-public place. He grunted as he carefully lifted the limp body into the trunk of his car, swearing as he felt his hand moisten with the scarlet liquid. His least favorite part of the job. Not that he had a favorite part, he thought, slamming the black trunk shut. Then, he wiped his bloodied hand onto his dark black skinnies and got into the car, driving to the hideout.

The drive to the all too familiar place was rather dull. The night was quiet and it was a dreary gloomy day. The weather was windy and the skies were a dark blue. He continued with his driving and keep his eyes on the road, pushing back the nagging thoughts that were entering his mind. He had felt these thoughts every time he was assigned to kill a target. Over the years he learned how to push them aside, while still keeping his morals in tact. But in all fairness, is there really a way to push away the thought of, What am I doing?. Despite the years of assassinations, years of practicing the art of becoming apathetic, he still found himself asking that very question every night.

He turned abruptly down the alley next to the shabby old building that had once been a bar but over the years had became the hideout of his group, Toradol. He parked behind the building and slammed the door to his shitty car behind him. He popped the trunk and carefully lifted the dead weight corpse out the car and onto his shoulder before hauling the load into the back of the building.

He pushed open the door that was the entry way into the hideout and cautiously stepped into the room, looking around. Everyone else seemed to be on their assignments, he deduced, grabbing a cigarette from his pack and twirling it between his fingers as he carried the man to the back of the bar, where there were rows of shelves which once held alcohol, but now held large containers of Sodium Hydroxide. Once he got to the back of the room, he shrugged the man onto the floor and selecting one of the bottles, before lighting his cigarette. Some of the other Toradol members had brought the tub into the back room ("it'll be more convenient", they had said, between inhaling from their joints and exhaling the smoke slowly).

But Harry didn't care. "As long as we can still get the job done," he had replied, and shrugged, before taking the blunt that had been passed his way and pressing it to his lips.

He started with the arms first. He always did. After sawing off both limbs, he grabbed his sunglasses and put on his gloves (he had always kept a spare in his pockets) and started to fill the tub with the lye. The hissing noise made him shiver, and the sizzling and screeching of the acid only grew when he put in the first arm, the other following minutes later.

Although lye and sulfuric acid were very strong chemicals, he knew that it would take several days to turn the strong body into disposable sludge, but he could wait. John George Haige would be proud, Harry thought bitterly to himself. In fact, the green eyed Brit couldn't help but chuckle whenever he saw the wanted or missing people, followed by rumors of a serial killer terrorizing England, but honestly, who would fall for that bullshit?

He repeated the process with the legs, but once he decapitated the man, he froze and stood up straighter. He felt like he was being watched. He didn't bother to turn around, but he did raise an eyebrow as he spoke in a playful voice. "Don't you have an assignment to take care of, Lou?"

The older man's laugh filled the room and Harry turned on his heel, watching him leaning on the back wall, his goofy smirk plastered on his face.

"I'll have you know, Harold, that my target has been terminated. Poor, tragic, horrifically unfortunate bonfire incident you see... I see yours is almost done," Louis noted, walking over and peering at the torso and head of the man, then looked up to meet Harry's gaze, bright blue colliding with dark green. "What did he do?"