The hidden predator: paid assassins

вullєt thrєє

That "perfect" in the last chapter was a lie.
It wasn't perfect.
He realized this when he was returning to his new hometown, which is actually in Berlin Germany, on a plane. His ears felt like they popped when he had the fear sink into his rib cage and go way past the other organs but his heart. His heart thumped loudly against his chest, so loudly that he thought people not in the forts class could hear it. He could afford first class, not because he wanted to die from a potential crash, but because it was more comforting. Besides, his family got second class when they travelled to Michigan, Detroit. God. The seats crushed his legs like a small pusher that seemed to want to squash his legs into meat. Bakes were screaming and the flight crew were just... oh lord. They didn't even care that you were a passenger.

They just brushed you off. Then again, that was a different airline. But the first class people just bragged on and on about how they're so privileged, the flight attends were friendly. While the stay was for a month and he enjoyed the area, that flight had just been absolute dog manure. His father got first class and it was heavenly. So for then on they always got first class. If they didn't, they're bloody peasants. There's a bloody system. You're godly in first class. You may as well treat them like the peasants.  Because you're their master now.

But that made max think of all the times him and his father would travel when his father wasn't working. His father, surprisingly, had the same name as his now new last name. Lawerence. Lawerence Owen Bill Karlos. Fixed man. Much more olive skin, unlike Max's awful pasty skin, which looks like icing of a cake. His eyes were more slanted, less then his parents but still slanted. Unlike max who got his mother's eyes, the widest eyes. They did have one thing with their face that was relatable. Eye color. His father had his blue eyes stick out heavily, like a black sheep. That's why max has those basically, baby blue eyes that can blind you if they were a light bulb.

His father had his hair slicked, thin hair, all black. What's funny is that max, before he dyed his hair, had black hair also. It made him look so much more pasty, but it fitted so well with his father and his attire. He thought he'd eventually turn olive skinned, his naive mind looking up to him. Yes, he loved his mother, but.. He loved his father a lot. He was a strong man, wealthy, not greedy. He gave money to charities. He remembers faintly how his father would always say "you can trust homeless people, even if they don't look right. Even if they have a dark past, you give them money." Every time he passed a homeless person or beggar, he'd give max at least twenty or fifty bucks and say "now go on. Give the money." So max would Troy over and give the money to the homeless people. Even with food places asking for tips for charity, his father would be grabbing his wallet. He would give more then he needed, but it was a nice gesture..

His old man was always a formal man. He wore suits to traveling and to jobs or to 'family dinner' nights, which was 50-50 really. He always encouraged different foods. Since max was little, he remembers, he could eat with chopsticks. His culture was beautiful, though. He was basically all Chinese. Max is basically half Chinese and Serbian. Funny, he looks like he'd be more Japanese, stereotypical Japanese boy. Because his skin is still very pasty. Max always loved Chinese foods, they are still his favorite. But he also likes Serbian foods. He remembers little moments where his father would not wear a suit and go full tank top and shorts with a hoodie wrapped around his waist.

Funny, he's been thinking about his father but not his mother. His mother was also very nice. She's full Serbian. Her parents were full Serbian and so on. Basically. She was much different. She had the wide eyes, pale skin, but she seemed to always be warm. Even on cold days, she wore a simple hoodie. Whenever max would be cold, he'd remember she'd straight up take off her hoodie and force it on his small body, basically having it all drag on the ground. Another thing, his parents were awfully tall. His parents were the same height. 6'1. Max sadly didn't grow too tall because his grandparents were shorter, but he still isn't that short. He's at least 5'9.. in platforms. He's really 5'7. His brother, however, who was much older, was damn 6'5. In platforms, he looked like he could reach the sky and touch it. Max remembers his brother always spoiled him. When max would get tired or hurt himself or be in a bad mood, his brother would always get him to be the highest. Meaning that he got a shoulder ride. He loved it. He felt so tall and like he could do anything. Now he feels small. At least when he went on that plane with his auntie and had said bye a day ago, before he became mature.. He remembers their faces.

His brother, was always so handsome.. he had freckles covering him, and he had a sorta malformation on his face. It was like a birth mark. It spread right from his right forehead and all the way to his cheek, just barely reaching his lips. Which were thin. He remembers seeing his brother actually seem a lot smaller, he wasn't crying but.. he was weak.. maybe it's because max bursted in tears. Max was young. He was about twelve and this took place in Italy, where they moved. His mother was sobbing her eyes out. She said she didn't want this to happen, she still wanted to be there for me until he was responsible and successful. She wanted to see him graduate. Mother instinct? Mentality? Maybe. His father looked so down. And he looked a lot more shocked when max cried. He remembers he slipped something to max before they were taken from him.

The shirt. Max has a scratch on his neck and was upset because it was all red. His father came home and gave him a oversized shirt so max would feel cool. Max hugged him so tight that day. Max can still remember the strengths of his parents hugs..

His mother was always soft, always so docile, so sweet. She would always go under the armpits and lift up the arms so she's grabbing your shoulders; kneeling down basically because she was so tall. Godly tall. His father was always subtle. He wrapped the arms around the neck and always had a hand on his head, being top to pat or being the back to rub. That was his way of hugging. He never did anything else then that. His brother never hugged him. Only shoulder rides or piggy back rides. He only hugged him once. It was a simple hug. But that was it. As he drifted away from his thoughts, he felt the plane come to a landing. For some reason he felt dread. He didn't want to see the disappointment in his auntie's face..

Quicker he left, the more closer he was to seeing disappointment.