"It is impossible, its human nature to lie, lies are being told without intention. People can't see through lies because they're as common as truths in this world."
Arthur knocked on the door, taking a deep breath, waiting for the green light so he could enter. Five seconds later, the display on the door changed from crimson to green and he entered the room, heart hammering hard and fast against his chest in anticipation of what was to come.
"Arthur," the tall, blond man seated behind an almost empty desk in the middle of the room gestured to the sleek black plastic chair in front of him. "Have a seat."
Arthur sat down, examining his surroundings warily. How many times had he been in here? He couldn't remember but he knew he had to be here. It was the same every time, except this time...
"So I hear you're done with this life," the man pushed up his square rimmed glasses with his index finger.
The blond man laughed, turquoise eyes gleaming with interest. "You do know about the consequences, don't you? Your memory of anything to do with the organisation will be wiped fifteen times over and your reflexes will be dulled by twenty percent so as to prevent you from returning to the profession ever again," he mused.
Arthur shrugged. "So be it," his thick brows furrowed. "Its not like you to dally with mission details, B," his emerald eyes narrowed.
B laughed heartily and it reverberated in the air, sounding both cold and warm at the same time. Arthur shivered under his white dress shirt and black blazer. "Ever the observant one, Arthur," he ran a hand through his blond hair. "Well, its simple. Six months. Get us the identity of the top brass of the Bonnefoy crime empire within three and we'll give you the details on how to eliminate them in the next three. After that, you can go."
The emerald eyed man stared at him, long and hard. "The Bonnefoy crime empire," he said drily.
"Also known as the biggest crime empire on this planet," B grinned. "You're going in as Arthur Kirkland. As for how you plan to go about doing it, you're on your own. We'll provide monetary support, as usual. You know the drill."
"My status has been elevated?" Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow.
"The higher ups figured that it was about time you got a surname, Unicorn," B winked.
Arthur's eyebrow twitched. He had acquired the nickname of the 'Unicorn' due to his elusive nature and he worked damn hard to get it - after all, what good was an assassin or spy if he was easily caught and identified?
"Well, the file's yours. Burn after reading, Mr Kirkland. I look forward to seeing you in six months time," B got up and offered Arthur his hand.
Arthur shook B's hand as he accepted the file. He glanced through the contents and found that he was to be the son of a Nobleman and a Civil Servant, which meant that he had a position in society. Whether he would live up to it was another question. He bit back a mirthless laugh as he thought of what he did in his free time apart from embroidering - reading up on philosophers, literature, anything and everything to do with academics. His knowledge was finally going to be of some use, yet after six months, everything he would've known would be wiped out. He would be a blank slate. Tabula rasa.
As if reading his mind, B spoke. "You won't lose all your memories. Just anything to do with the organisation. Don't worry too much, Arthur," he patted Arthur's shoulder, which did nothing to reassure him. "You do know who you were named after, don't you?"
Arthur turned around and offered B a painfully weak smile. He knew his name was given to him by the organisation, they made it a point to remind him of it at every opportunity and somehow being able to walk away after they raised him for fifteen years seemed too good to be true. Even so, it was worth a shot. He had seen too much of the outside world not to long for it; he had seen too much of the suffocating politics in the organisation not to wish to stay any longer.
"Good. All the best, Arthur," B called after him as Arthur left the room, setting the file alight by the time he reached the main exit of the organisation's building.
As Arthur watched the flames consume the papers within the file, devouring it as if its hunger was uncontrollable, unstoppable and had to be satiated, he wondered about himself. Maybe the final mission would answer the questions he had about his identity. His loyalty. His reason for existing on the planet. He looked up at the sapphire sky and reached out for it. "Perhaps..." he muttered to himself as he tried grasping a bit of the sky.
Arthur never got to complete his train of thought. Someone hit him square on the head and he fell to the ground in a faint.
"Hmm, what's this?" Alfred F. Jones frowned, noticing a huge unidentified object lying by the front gates to his amazingly huge mansion. It was raining heavily and he squinted to get a better look, creeping forward, half afraid that it was a ghost even though he knew that ghosts could not cast shadows on the ground. He looked around, scanning his surroundings and when he was finally sure that no one was following him, he ran forward and flipped the object over with a triumphant "Hah!"
The object turned out to be the body of a man... No, it looked like someone his age. A teenaged boy, at most, a year older than him, clinging on to his messenger bag for dear life. Alfred put a tentative finger underneath the boy's nose, desperate for a sign of life and heaved a sigh of relief when he found that the boy was breathing. Sighing, he stabbed the buttons on the intercom impatiently, waiting for the gates to open.
When they finally did, Alfred dropped his umbrella and carried the boy back home.
a/n: if you were wondering, B is sweden, haha. hope y'all like this! on a completely random note, i'm legal for almost everything in my country today! woohoo!