Delinquents And Dominos

Chapter 2: Tricker, Trickest.

 Aureo was not your average Italian hitman. Yes, he is a hitman. Why didn't he kill Gaston right there where he had the perfect opportunity? We'll see. 

Having raised in a family of business fanatics, he had a different ambition that his family wasn't really excited to hear. His father, on the other hand, would take this the physical way. He decided to beat the living ravioli out of young Aureo because he refused to follow in his family footsteps in financing and all that stuff he wasn't interested in. He was more of an artist...in killing. It was sort of an instinct that developed in his youth.

Which was exactly why he became a hitman for hire. Where exactly would someone hire him? The black market? No. In this world, anyone can kill anyone without even touching them or even personally getting to know them. That's pretty much how messed up the world he lives in is. 

But Gaston was a different target. He was unlike Aureo's other victims, sly and deceptive. He thought for a while and traced his steps back to the same alleyway he ate that apple. He anticipated some sort of trap from Gaston when he reached there, but there he was, knocked out cold on the hard road. However, Aureo knew that that wasn't just that, and he still has to maintain his alert state of mind. Gaston was a naturally tough opponent to defeat, yet even harder to kill due to the unexpected things he does that tends to surprise even an expert assassin like Aureo.

"Oi, get up." He lightly kicked Gaston's side.

He only jerked back, a fake jolt. Aureo knew it, the unnatural pretend-movement of a cunning scallywag.

"I know what you're trying to do, and don't you dare try to pull off anything stupid." Aureo warned.

Nothing, the atmosphere between the both of them warped into a silent zone. Sick of being played around like a puppet, sick of the fact that he was both being played at and the fact that it was ten past eleven, which would now be his bedtime. Aureo had always kept a strict bedtime routine, and it would seriously piss him off whenever he went past it. Having no other option, he dug into his coat and brought out a heavy pistol, its barrel glinted with light from a pavement's lam post reflecting off it as he pointed it at Gaston's head, ready to creep closer and dig it into his hair to show that he meant serious business.

"Say something will you?" He threatened, furious of that petty fact that it was late at night. " Merely forcing yourself to play dead is only gonna give you a cold. That rotting apple on your head will only attract ants, and I know you wouldn't want to play dead like a real corpse while those nasty bugs crawl around your body. I don't think anyone does. So get up and face me like a proper man"

"But I'm not a man," Gaston finally spoke, and got up so quickly the poor apple rolled off his hair and splattered violently on the ground. "I'm poor." He got up to a kneeling position and regained his surroundings.

"Gaston Freneau. You're French, and you're 17, born on the 8th of October on the year 2033." Aureo read aloud from a small diary he found lying next to Gaston before he woke up.

"Wait, is that?" Gaston scanned the ground around him troubled and finally glanced at Aureo, holding his personal diary he always kept with him so he could keep track of everything he knew. "Give it back."

"Freneau, weird name for a French guy."

"I made up my surname because my parents incinerated their birth certs, now give it back!" He lunged at him, trying to snatch his diary back, but Aureo bought enough time to jostle his face back with his free arm.

"Dropped out of three art schools, because you couldn't colour in the lines due to imperfect hand coordination..." Aureo continued to read from the first page. "...has commited about 15 crimes, including the infamous solo bank heist in Paris. And has not been arrested, yet."

"I swear I'll rip those fingers of yours off if you don't return that thing!" Gaston continued to threaten while hopelessly groping  Aureo's firm arm that seemed to hold quite the flex.

Until Aureo himself realised, right after reading all of his self-written crime records. 

The gun. 

It was no longer in his hands nor in his vicinity. He lowered the book in a small panicked state, and immediately assured himself to stay humble. "You snitch,"

 Note: the chapters will get longer once I attain momentum for this plot.