𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣 ┃𝗖.𝗠.𝗕

#1

Corbyn besson sat on the old damaged roof, watching the swirls from the cigarette smoke fade away into small rings. 

The stars in the sky were dull, his dark eyes focusing more on the smoke as he inhaled from the small cancer stick.  He kicked the crumbling wall beneath him, never one to be scared of death or putting himself in danger. 

It was something that came with his job requirements. 

Another figure climbed onto the roof beside him, sighing deeply. 

"How did I know that I would find you up here? Don't you have more interesting things to do than stare at the sky?" 

Corbyn took another deep breath. 

"I guess life has just become too boring." 

The tall redhead chuckled, running a hand through his spiky hair before crossing his arms over his bulky chest. 

All of the other guys seemed to hold some sort of grudge against Corbyn, wondering how a lanky figure like him got into the program, and why he never seemed to get into trouble for all of the mess he caused. 

"Funny you would say that, Besson. Boss has a job for you." 

Corbyn furrowed his eyebrows, still staring up at the sky. 

"Really?" 

He could not remember the last time he got a job, usually having to go around finding his own amusement.  Perhaps that is why they tried to give him something to do, at least then they could get something out of the fun he had.

The only jobs he was given was to dispose of people quickly, making sure to always keep his favorite pistol on him in case he got a text. 

The message was only ever an address or name, someone for him to get rid of with a single bullet, Corbyn was never one to miss. 

"Go on, get your ass down there" Watson scoffed. 

"Try not to mess everything up this time, would you? The rest of us get bored of seeing you do whatever the hell you want." 

He was given only an eye roll in return. 

Corbyn got up from his crumbling seat, feeling no terror when the ground wobbled unstably from beneath him. 

He jumped off the ledge, climbing down the hatch that led him down to the familiar warehouse, a strange lab filled with lots of weapons and gadgets so professional for an underground agent recruitment. 

When he made it down to his usual meeting room, he saw the Boss leaning up against a wall with a bored expression. 

"Late as usual, Besson." 

"Lovely to see you too, Boss"

Corbyn's tone was bored but respectful.  The Boss did not have a name and nobody knew anything about him other than how much money he gave them all. 

Most agents never got close to him, but Corbyn was a special one who he always had a firm belief in.
Corbyn had no family, no friends or anyone that he cared about, making him perfect for the job that needed him to risk his own life everyday. 

Corbyn had always seen Boss tucked away in his office, his dark stubble on his cheeks as his dark bloodshot green eyes stared at him. 

He was intimidating without even needing to speak a word. 

"You said you have a new mission?" 

Corbyn raised his eyebrows, sitting down on the far chair. 
The Boss took a seat opposite, stroking down his expensive suit while Corbyn was in his usual dark clothing and beat up sneakers. 

The Boss said nothing, simply sliding a thick file in front of him.  Corbyn  grasped the file with careful hands, looking up to The Boss who gave him a curt nod. 

As he opened it, his gaze caught on to the mugshot of a man in his forties.  A man who looked normal, Almost friendly- too friendly to be on their hit list. 

He scrolled down the page until he got to a name and address. 

"Robert Y/L/N"

Corbyn read out in a curious tone.  The Boss spoke up in his usual monotone voice. 

"One of the top on our list, someone who always manages to slip through our fingers. He is the head name in the illegal trading unit, the one who delivers all kinds of goods across the border to different Europeancountries. Never out in the  open, just a single name which is on the bottom of every single document, his signature signing off every illegal good known to man. " 

"You want me to stop him from trading?"  Corbyn frowned in confusion. 

The Boss shook his head, his tone still emotionless. 

"No, I want you to kill him." 

"Some illegal trading really tickles your feathers that much?" 

Corbyn  raised his eyebrows, not believing the bullshit that The Boss was spewing at him.  He knew that there must have been more to the story for The Boss to want him dead. 

The Boss blinked at him, not opening his mouth to say a single word.

Corbyn got the message, holding back an eye roll as he looked back down at the paper. 

He saw that the address was not too far from their base, a street that he had never heard of before. 
As he was scrolling through more details about his crimes, Corbyn saw another file being slid down the table, an extremely thin file. 

When he glanced up at The Boss and opened it up, he saw a picture of himself on the front page.