Heart or Mind...?

Chapter One - Simple Request

They had been travelings for a few days now, perhaps working for a billionaire was a bad idea? No, it was good money and close by too. All the client had done was request a small job be done at the Hydell Estate. The large mansion on the hill which was owned by esteemed businessman Cloyd Hydell. They could totally handle this job, one-hundred percent.

That being said, it should be abundantly clear why Bryson Shay and his ever-loyal right hand, Corey Ingells, are currently shimmying down the inside of the chimney of previously mentioned Estate. A task easier said than done. Do you know how much soot is in a chimney? A lot, more than enough, and frankly; too much.

"This is really nasty Bry," Corey coughed, using a hand to push the light gray air away from them. Bryson sighed at both the nickname and the comment. That dyed haired friend of his, it was a miracle they'd both lived this long with Corey's loud-mouthed tendencies. Remember that time he was screaming on a stealth mission and blew their cover? No? Well, that's what's about to happen right now. 

It took longer than Bryson would've preferred, but they made it down without any trouble. A feeling of relief fell over Corey, who's mind remained in a state of perpetual worry that they'd be killed from falling down the chimney. Though the only reason they would fall would be because of Corey's clinginess in tight enclosed spaces. Bryson was the first one inside. He reached out a leather gloved hand, pulling Corey to his feet.

"C'mon." Corey nodded, following after Bryson who was already halfway down the hall. Blink too much and you'd lose him, he really doesn't wait around. Turning a few more corners before he found his friend examining a large carved wooden chair.

"Didn't we come here for some kind of pirate treasure?" Corey straightened his wire glasses and gave a befuddled look, "Dude, that's a frickin' big-ass door." Bryson inhaled deeply.

"That's what you think's inside a mansion? Pirate treasure?"

"Says the guy who dragged me out of bed this morning for a mission he won't tell me about." Corey didn't want to lose this battle, Bryson stopped him by holding up a hand. Corey growled softly, stupid, annoying, beanie-wearing—ugh. Why were they friends again?

Bryson walked out of the room briskly, ending up in the hallway. He motioned for Corey to follow him again. When they reached their destination, Bryson used a small metal tool to pick the lock. A clicking noise signaled he'd succeeded.

"What's in here anyway?" Corey looked around, "just a bunch of clothes? What are we doing here?" Bryson threw a shirt at his friend's face before picking one up himself. He began to unzip his jacket. Corey's brows knitted together, mouth slightly agape.

"Why are we getting naked?" Bryson brought a hand to his face, he should've done this alone.

"We're not getting naked. Just change into the clothes." Corey reluctantly agreed and began to put on the clothes. An already dressed Bryson waited for him by the doorway.

"So... We're waiters?" Corey gave his new attire a quick once-over, gagging slightly as he disliked the formal style of dress. This is the boy who wore Bermuda shorts to prom. He really doesn't care about how he looks. As long as he isn't freezing cold or burning hot, he's good.

"Not waiters, servants. We are now two new Hydell Estate employees. Understand?" He took Corey by the wrist and off they went to join the rest of the staff. He may not look it, but Bryson is a great actor, able to fool anyone into anything. Even the real Hydell staff were tricked by his "sweet" glimmering smile. The two imposters used this to their advantage in gaining a high-level task. As it turns out, the staff wasn't terribly fond of their master.

Bryson climbed the stairs, silver tray in balanced on his right hand, Corey not far behind. They reached the third floor, walking to the fifth door on the right side. He used his empty hand to knock three times. It was the polite thing to do after all. And kicking down the door would most definitely blow his cover.

"Ma'am?" A cough came before a voice answered him meekly. With permission, he pushed open the door with his side and entered the rather spacious room. Inside was an older woman wearing a lavender dress, she was sitting in an armchair by the window reading a book. She placed her bookmark inside, facing them. Bryson set the tray on the circular table beside her, on it was a cup of jasmine tea and a slice of warm lightly buttered bread.

"That will be all." And so they left the woman to her morning meal and Corey to wonder how the heck this was a mission if they were just giving an old lady some breakfast. How was that dangerous or awesome? Like, he had this job for a reason: to be cool as heck.

"It's time to go," Bryson whispered to Corey, they returned to the side room where they'd left their clothes. Quickly, the two reversed their previous steps, changing back and climbing out the chimney. A task which would be better described as Bryson pushing Corey up the chimney, mind you that Corey is 157lb and that's not light. Eventually, covered in layers of soot, they made it out.

Standing on the roof, Bryson flagged over his small hovercraft to pick them up. The device resembled a large pool floater. It was amazing no one found two boys riding through the sky to be strange. He boarded first, then helped Corey on, the latter who seemed nervous despite this being his millionth time riding the dang thing.

"We don't have all day Core," he reminded. Corey grumbled as he closed his eyes and jumped on. Bryson refused to acknowledge the other male as he steered them towards base camp. Mission accomplished, a job well done in his mind.