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“I, Tommy Craft, The Greatest Assassin Of All Time, have some news for you,” Tommy proclaims, barging into Techno’s room without any prior warning.
The older sighs. “What happened to ‘hello’? What happened to knocking on my door?”
“It's gone,” the blond replies. “It doesn't exist in my brain anymore.”
Techno clicks his tongue. “Alright. Spill. What's this news so big you had to interrupt my bi-monthly Sudoku sessions?”
“This is way more important than Sudoku, Tech. I've been hired,” Tommy cheers.
Techno gasps in an exaggerated manner. “Finally you're doing something else other than killing people? What's the job? Wait.. you're fifteen. That's illegal!”
Tommy bursts into laughter. “Illegal? Murder is illegal too! You don't have a say in this. Neither do I, because the job is…”
“Assassinating someone?” Techno asks.
“Assassinating someone!” Tommy exclaims.
“Don't you have summer camp?”
The younger grits his teeth. Well..what's better, forcing himself to make friends with snotty ankle-biters while developing homesickness, or doing his most favourite hobby (aside from getting piggybacks) and getting paid for it.
“Nope!” Tommy decides. “Not anymore, at least. Tell dad his youngest son is the breadwinner of the fucking family.”
“No, I'm not telling him that,” Techno crosses his arms. “How much are they paying anyway?”
“Um, two dollars?” Tommy knits his eyebrows, thinking. Is it worth it? Yeah it's probably worth it.
”Two do- Tommy. Who is it? Who are they making you kill for a measly two dollars? And you didn't even bargain!” Techno facepalms in disappointment. He was almost impressed by his younger brother. Almost.
“Actually, I don't know yet,” Tommy shrugs. “They're supposed to call me today.”
Oh my god..
This child is a complete idiot.
“Tommy, I love you, you know that, right?”
“Yep!”
“Okay, I need you to know how much of a stupid, naive moron you are. That's the worst deal you could've possibly accepted!”
Tommy glares at him, a rebuttal at the ready. But then his phone rings, startling him before he hurriedly answers the call.
“Turn the speaker on,” Techno whispers.
Tommy mouths a ‘no, fuck you’. He clears his throat. “Hello?”
”Tomathy Innes?”
Ah, right. That honest-to-god horrible name is the alias he used.
“Yes, that's me,” Tommy finds a spot on the bed, cross-legged as he listened.
“Is there anyone else in the room right now?” the person on the other end of the call asks.
Tommy looks at Techno and blinks at him.
“Nope, just me.”
“The boss has given you your first assignment. Do your job and handle it well. The target is Philza Craft’s son.”
Oh!
Oh that is lovely news!
“Uh, which one?” Tommy says, trying to keep his nervousness hidden.
This is the worst possible outcome. His first (and maybe last job) will require him to either shoot himself or his brother. That's absolutely mental! Well, only if you have morals.
“Don't joke around, newbie. He only has one son,” the person scoffs. “The one who always murders people in pajamas? The pink-haired one.”
Only one son is..interesting. Sometimes Tommy forgets that his dad is the leader of the mafia, alright? And he always forgets that he, as the youngest, is unbeknownst to the public eye.
Fuck, that means..
“Uhm, yeah. I'll go assassinate him now. Yup! I am grabbing my gun right now, pointing it at his head and-” Tommy hangs up.
Jesus Christ.
Why does the universe hate him?
It's way too hard to carry the assassin department on his back. Had they really run out of long-range shooters that they hired a kid to do it, and didn't even bother to do a background check on him? He's been secretly hired to assassinate his own brother, for fuck’s sake!
Tommy stares at the floor in disbelief. Ah, very interesting floor.
..Summer camp definitely sounds better now.
“Tommy?” Techno calls. “Are you okay?”
Tommy rises from the bed and opens his arms wide as if he was giving an entrepreneurial speech. “I, Tommy Craft, The Greatest Assassin Of All Time, have been recruited to assassinate..” he points at his brother with an exaggerated grimace painting his face. “You.”
If there was one thing Tommy could have expected after being told he was hired to assassinate his own brother, it's that said brother will be taking his recruiters out for slaughter.
“So we're killing my new boss and colleagues?” Tommy raises an eyebrow. “What about my pay?”
“Surely you'd accept their heads as your prize,” Techno answers. “Better than two dollars.”
“Their heads? I bet their brains are empty and useless,” Tommy smirks.
“I'm not gonna lie, your brain is also kinda empty and useless for accepting that offer.”
“Stop slandering me for my choices! One more and I'd stick to my end of the deal and kill you,” the younger rolls his eyes.
The pinkette simply smiles. “Then do it,” he takes a gun in his hand and extends it towards Tommy. “Pull the trigger.”
“Wh..what?” the blond stutters.
Techno laughs at the look on his brother's face. “ ‘The Greatest Assassin Of All Time hesitates to shoot’..that would make great headlines,” he says, lowering the gun. He fetches the keys of the house before walking out the porch. The weather is as grey as the ashes on his plate. Perfect sky to orchestrate a perfect kill.
“You're going fucking senile,” Tommy accused. “How are you not bothered? I've been employed to annihilate you with a pistol.”
“The pistol I bought for you? Nice try, kid. I know you wouldn't do it,” Techno smiles at him. It was a sickly genuine one.
“Whatever,” Tommy groans.
The older walks out of the house, sauntering happily, trudging on the virgule of death himself.
Tommy follows suit, gun in one hand, and retribution in the other.
“I have him,” Tommy mutters into the phone. On the other end was his boss (rather, his next new victim. but he doesn't need to know that).
“What do you mean you have him?” his boss asks. “You were supposed to kill him on the spot, not arrange a kidnapping!”
“Wouldn't you want to eliminate him yourself? After all, it sounds like you hate that Phil Craft guy’s guts, so killing his son would satisfy you,” Tommy suggests. He whistles a happy tune.
“You are smart. I'll give you that,” his boss says. “Where do we meet?”
“Near L’crimeburg,” Tommy responds. “See you in a bit, big man.”
He hangs up and faces his brother with an unreadable expression. “Get your gun ready.”
“Wait, I'm killing him?”
“Duh! Don't let him see you. Shoot him while we're having a conversation then I'll steal his wallet to get my well-deserved pay!”
And oh, the thrill of it all.
Techno hasn't felt this excited since second grade archery practice. (He definitely didn't try to aim it at one of the instructors because he thought they were a practice mannequin.)
“Shit shit shit, he's coming!” Tommy whisper-yells.
“Have fun,” Techno gives him a quick smile.
“Nope, you have fun,” Tommy returns it.
He watches the pinkette from his peripheral vision, hiding behind a trash bin of all things. All he needs to do now is to not fuck things up.
“Tomathy Innes?” a man wearing a black cap appears from the corner. If anything, he looks like he's here to deal drugs.
“That's me, sir,” Tommy (Tomathy- fuckass name) salutes.
“Where is he?” his boss questions, gazing around as if his eyes were an airport baggage scanner.
“Give me my pay first,” Tommy says.
”No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
Tommy isn't patient enough for this.
“Alright then, if you could direct your attention to..” Tommy grabs the man by his shoulders and turns him around over to face the garbage bins. “Yep, marvel over that trash for a second there while I fetch the hostage.”
Tommy sucks in a deep breath.
Okay.
Target secured.
“Shoot!” he yells.
The startled look on his boss’ face is priceless.
Techno pops out from behind the bins, holding a gun pointing straight at the man.
Tommy flicks his black cap off. Just in case it's.. y'know, bulletproof.
His boss begins saying something he couldn't care less about. “You motherf-”
His head explodes before he could finish the sentence.
“All done,” Techno says. He pauses. “Well that was anticlimactic. We should've gone with waterboarding instead.”
“You could've at least let him finish swearing!” Tommy complains. “Ah whatever. At least I get to steal his wallet.”
Tommy feels the man’s pocket for a wallet-shaped bulge. And to his disappointment, there is nothing but fake IDs and drugs. So he was a drug dealer? Man of many jobs. Tommy is glad his brother is the one to cut his life short.
”Don't touch the..substances, Tommy,” Techno warns. “Let him be buried with it. If that's the last act of goodwill you could show your old boss.”
“I'm not a moron,” Tommy makes a ‘tsk’ sound. “Instead, I'll be getting this,” he snatches the gold chain hanging from his boss’ neck. Boss no more, he's been completely obliterated by a newbie. Imagine getting owned and losing your life on the same day.
“Are we done here?” Techno asks impatiently. “Phil said he's making cheesy gnocchi. You know how I get with cheese.”
Tommy cackles. He couldn't believe his cheese-obsessed brother is the same man who assassinated an assassin without dithering.
“Let's go home,” the blond says. “And give me a-”
“Piggyback?” Techno finishes.
“Finally, I don't have to ask,” Tommy beams at him, and the older crouches down.
The skies were still somber, their spirits still high.
God bless whoever finds a corpse in the middle of the road. This town is called L’crimeburg for a reason. Maybe the townspeople wouldn't mind too much
So they walk back home, and their means are pardoned by the end. All Tommy could think about is how much he could surely get from the pawnshop for the golden chain. Certainly more than two dollars. All Techno could think about is cheese.
And if later, Phil discovers his sons with pistol guns again, he doesn't even try to raise any questions. He is so gonna win best father of the year. Even if both of his sons will sooner or later probably get hunted down by the city’s juvenile jail.