Singer's Debt ☆ Five Hargreeves

Part 1

"State your name."

"Y/n, L/n."

I never thought I would become a killer. Assassin, as the commission would like to call it.

Of course scary movies made me jump with all the adrenaline released in my veins. Every horror movie just brought me to reality, where you realize there are people in this world who don't mind shedding blood, getting some on their hands.

It was never my intention to become a full blooded murderer, but the job gave me a sense of peace, and again a music career.

Weird, how it all ties together.

Five always hated when I called myself a killer, but what else would you call it?

"And what year were you born?"

Of course, I never expected to be considered as extraordinary as others considered.

As a matter of fact, I never felt like I was apart of this world.

Almost like there was a part of me missing, like a puzzle piece, but you haven't quite figured out where you misplaced the finishing touch.

The final piece of the puzzle to feel whole again.

Untill, you find yourself scrambled again in this board game called life, giving everyone a piece of your care, untill you are left with half a damaged piece.

"October 1st, 1989." I explain to the supervisor, who is taking all of this information.

He didn't seem to be phased that I was born years after this actual timeline, like it was normal for that to be.

Yes, the day that I was born, and apparently had more meaning than I thought it did, with a father who celebrated my birthday's with a small reminder of the fact that it was the day my mother died.

I've never met my mother, but I don't think this would have been what she had in mind for raising me.

"What is your kill count, there are a couple of options, none, 1-10, or too many to count." He asks me honestly, making me furrow my eyebrows.

"One." I say, gulping. My body starting to nervously heat up.

The fucking anxiety, always creeping up on me when I try to have any type of conversation.

With murderers, or normal everyday people.

Surprisingly enough, I feel more anxious around people who have never killed.

Almost like breathing around them could taint their squeaky clean, guilt free hearts.

"Just one?" He asks me, looking at me as if there had to be more.

"Only one." I respond, not looking him in the eyes.

The first time killing, I felt the rush, but the moment you realize you have taken a life, it's like you can never go back.

Once it's done, it's done.

Behind me I can hear the sound of heels coming towards us, and there she is, with a small smile on her face.

"Y/n! There you are! I'm so glad that you decided to join this company, let me show you around. First, we have to meet up with the newcomers." The Handler tells me, before taking the paperwork the man just filled out, and linking her arm with mine.