Rather Be ✅

Three

Louis stared frozen at Harry. "What?" he asked. "No, I'm not. I-I mean I can't remember what I do but I can't be an assassin." He insisted.

Harry sighed. "You are. That's why we don't know how to start treating your amnesia yet. You have an impossibly high tolerance of pain for a human, except it doesn't apply to your neck and head. I have no idea why," he said, but you could tell he was trying to figure it out by the look on his face.

Louis still had a look of disbelief on his face, which caused Harry to stand. He gestured for Louis to follow him, and lead the older man into a room. There were screens and buttons everywhere. Louis kept his hands locked together. He was too scared to touch anything.

Harry typed something and blew up an image on the screen. Louis looked up when they flashed on, showing a man dressed in black with a vest full of gadgets. "He looks cool." He had a mask over his nose and mouth, but when Louis examined his face his smile dropped. "That's..."

"This is Bullseye," Harry stated. "He's a deadly killer for hire, capable of using practically anything as a lethal projectile weapon with flawless accuracy and deadly force. He's rumored to be one of the most psychotic and sadistic assassins," he said, his voice more gentle than usual.

"That can't be me, I- sadistic? I'm not fucking sadistic." Louis shook his head, his heart thumping against his chest.

"It's just a rumor. I was rumored at first by the public to be from another planet like Loki and Thor until they found out I was a lab experiment." He shrugged. Louis cocked his head at him. "Doesn't mean it's true."

Louis snapped his head back towards the pictures. "But that's still not me!"

Harry looked out in the hall. "Nick! Bring in one of the bionic's please!" he called.

No more than a couple minutes later a tall man was walking in. He was a lot taller than Louis, yet still a bit scrawny or lanky. Harry spoke. "Attack."

Louis' eyes widened when the blonde lunged at him. He ducked out of the way, and grabbed a pen from the table. The blonde went running for him again, and this time Louis ran up as well, stabbing his neck and heart with the pen. Somehow going deep enough that the man fell to the ground, not moving.

"Oh my god!" Louis yelled, like he snapped out of what he was doing. He backed up into Harry, who turned him around. Harry grabbed his hands, shushing him as he kept rambling about "what has he done" and "he's so sorry" and "he doesn't know why he did that".

"Stop stop stop, Louis that was a robot. It was a robot, you're fine. It was a bionic that we have tons others of. There's no blood, no ones hurt, you're fine." He assured.

Louis nodded wearily. "How did I do that?" he asked. "How did I know to do that?"

Harry bit his lip, and once again made him follow him into a different room where the exact suit in the picture was laying on a table. "This is your suit, Louis," he said. "You're Bullseye, a criminal. A highly trained and skilled assassin. You have a weapons proficiency in literally anything you find. Naturally gifted one hundred percent aim and hand eye coordination. Expert marksman, hyper-cognitive, fucking amazing weight lifter and acrobat- excuse my language." He just kept naming all of Louis' skills, even though the man himself didn't know how to use any of them at the moment. "Escapologist, amazing with stealth and martial arts. You've got it all-"

"But I don't even know how to do any martial arts, or any of that! I-I don't remember doing a cartwheel since I was seven and when me and my little kid friends used to play around," he rambled. "And I don't know why I can remember this stuff."

Harry sighs, "My theory is that whatever chip was put in your head was designed to erase anything and everything about the people who trained and experimented on you. Anything that we would want to get out of you if we had caught you like we just did." He crossed his arms. "How old are you?"

"Uh, twenty-three?" He furrowed his eyebrows.

"Okay, so you came into the scene about four years ago when you were probably... eighteen or nineteen. If you ran away at sixteen then you spent probably two years training and all-"

"I don't need-"

"Eight years of fighting, Louis. Defense becomes second nature when being attacked." He looked annoyed from being interrupted so many times. He pulled up something else on the screen in the room. Various clips of Louis in the suit doing different stunts, all of them including the part where he was using something to kill someone. One was a hairbrush, another was a playing card. There was one where he used a paper clip, even. To kill someone.

Louis had a hand on his mouth. He shook his head furiously, tears gathering in his eyes. "Turn it off." He whispered, his hands shaking. Harry looked at him for a moment, watching the man who usually didn't have a soul break down. "I said turn it off!" Louis' voice cracked. "Please!" He whimpered. His whole body was tense and panicked, his back hitting the wall before falling down it.

Harry stalked towards him, sinking down so that he was squatted in front of Louis. He went to touch Louis, but he flinched away. "N-No!" he exclaimed.

Harry sat down next to him. "You won't hurt me, Louis," he said. He waited a moment for Louis to calm down, and when he did he slowly helped him up.

"I just want to go back to the bedroom." Louis murmured, looking down.

Harry nodded. "Of course," he said. Louis sighed, letting the tall boy lead him back to the bedroom. His new bedroom. He didn't even change out of the bland outfit he was dressed in before falling onto the mattress and curling up.