The Hitman and His Consort

XII - Kin

First Person P.O.V: VALENTIN HACKSAW

I surprisingly went home earlier than I thought, I went home earlier than Denis but that man doesn’t need a mission to keep him out late, some good wine and a woman, who didn’t know any better, is enough to make him find other places to sleep for the night.

It’s currently 9:00, and I just had my breakfast. I had no prior engagements until later so I’m weighing out my other options to pass time. I could visit the warehouses and check things out and maybe even carry out a surprise inspection to piss them off.

Despite not making a decision for the day, I still wore my suit and opted to lounge around in the living room—Is that my father?

“Dad?” I called out,

He jolted a little before facing me with his bright smile. Sure enough, it was him. His hair grew longer. He opened his arms as he walked towards me, engulfing me in a big hug as he chuckled, “Valya! How are you, my boy?” He asked as he pulled back and patted my shoulders.

“I’m cured,” I said,

“For real?” he asked

“No,” I said as I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose before looking at him again, “Dad, I always tell you that same thing over and over again, why… do you always believe it,” I complained as I sat on the couch.

In response, he chuckled again, “I was holding out hope,” he argued as he also took a seat, grabbing the remote and flipping through his movie options.

My father tends to leave a lot and for long periods of time, he visits different places near beaches and random places in Europe and Asia while my mom and Denis run things back here.

He and mom somehow agreed with that set-up and sometimes they even switch up who helps Denis back here, but mostly it’s my father who leaves like that. He comes back from time to time and stays for a few months, but even after that, he still goes back to whatever place wants to go on a whim.

I knew he and mom had a big argument about that before, which is pretty intense we had to stay in another house with a few members of Madre Maria, but after a while, I think they finally reached an agreement. Denis said that they made up because of the power of love.

I think they reached an agreement because they don’t have any other choice. But Denis wouldn’t take my words for it. My reason is mortifying compared to his romanticism.

“Why are you here, then?” I asked, making him frown,

“Valya, son, I live here, this is also my home,” he replied, emphasizing certain words,

“I know, but why now?” I asked again,

“Well… I’m sick of that place, so I went home and I want to help around a little,” he explained.

“Help around a little? With what, the dishes?”

“That’s very funny, Valya, on another note, are you still at that age where I can ground you?” he joked, flicking my ears, so I swatted his hand away, matching his playful mannerisms.

“Oh, far from that,” I replied, making him laugh a little. We tried to focus on the show after that. I try not to read too much into my father’s business. His course of action was both predictable and unexpected. I couldn’t make any sort of connections to the places he went to.

They could range from crowded well-developed cities to empty deserted islands. From scorching tropical countries to chilling ice lands that barely see that light of day. I don’t know if I even want to know. Seems too deep-seethed to stick my nose into. It could be interesting or it could just be his sporadic whims. I’m not exactly too invested.

Whatever it was, I hope that it won’t end up with him killing himself by accident. I don’t think mom would appreciate that, if dad dies on one of his adventures, it would probably birth and unleash my mother’s dormant wrath upon this world.

‘Or the state, at least’

“You got anything to do today? You’re not wearing a suit just to laze around, right?” dad asked again, and I hummed.

“Yeah, I was going to attempt to infiltrate Mariella Labs today,” I replied, my eyes still on the T.V despite the bland show, but it’s better than nothing.

My father is an amicable man, a social butterfly if you will. He was quick to respond while making sure to listen to your words, always having the right words, so it raised little concern to me when he just stared at me in frozen shock.

“Dad?” I said to try and snap him back to our conversation and when he did, he blinked a couple of times and pinched the bridge of his nose, chuckling.

He sucked in a sharp breath as he lowered his head, “it’s been a long time since I heard that name, why’re you trying to get in the place?” he asked, gradually raising his head to meet my eyes.

I shrugged, “I’m helping a woman get revenge,” I replied. Now with conflicted surprise, he scoffed as he started counting on his fingers.

“How long was I gone?! You’re making friends now? And a woman at that! Wow, Valya, that’s good to hear,” he gushed patting my back. Firstly, I didn’t say we’re friends, we just happen to band together, for completely different reasons, and second, I don’t think I could ever acknowledge her as a friend.

It’s too hypocritical for me to say but it needed to be said, she’s too spontaneous and if I am too I doubt I’ll achieve even a scarce of improvement Rod and I have been aiming for.

“I’m not keeping count, and she’s not my friend, I just tagged along since I was bored,” I replied to offer even an ounce of clarification, clarification that he denied and ignored because the next thing I saw is that tight-lipped stupid smile on his face making me groan.

Whenever I forget that my father's an annoying man, he goes right in with this sh*t to remind me.

I grunted as I attempted to stand, only to be pulled back down by him. I’ve always wondered this, but he’s pretty strong for a 52-year-old man, one of the reasons I was curious about those journeys of his.

“What now?”

“What is she like, your girl-friend?”

“She’s not my girlfriend—”

“I meant girl-friend like woman-company, a friend who’s coincidentally a girl,”

“You could’ve just said ‘friend’—”

“Ah, so you are friends!”

“F*ck this,” I said standing up again, but as expected, he’s not willing to let me go that easily. Back on the couch, I dropped, “Dad, what is this about?” I asked with a sigh and he still had that stupid smile on his face, which made it close to unbearable to look at his face now,

He clicked his tongue and shook his head in a somewhat condescending manner, “Son, this is the first instance of this happening, let me indulge myself and use this as father and son bonding time,” he replied patting my shoulder, I then sighed in retreat, offering a small, fake, smile.

“Dad, you’ve bonded enough, I decide from long ago to name my first born after you,” I said with a nod,

“Really?”

“No, did you for real fall for that? What the he—”

“Stop playing with my f*cking feelings, I’m sensitive, son!”

“Yeah, no kidding,”

“Valya, stop bullying our father,” Denis scolded as he walked into the living room, finally home. I rolled my eyes at him while my father did the opposite and beamed as they shared a hug. “When did you get home?” Denis asked,

With a shrug, dad replied, “Just today!” and they both settled on the couch, “where were you?” Dad then followed up to Denis, who only smirked,

“Oh… around,” was Denis’ mere reply, admitting to the fact that he, literally, gets around. My father picked up on this quickly and they shared a momentarily obnoxious jeering and laughing like it was a language I didn’t know.

“Valya told me that he met a woman too!” Dad then brought up,

‘Why did you have to pull me into that conversation again?’

“Oh yeah, a real looker, her name is Art,” Denis confirmed, you know, like a traitor. He then smiled at me as if he didn’t just throw me under the bus the moment dad faced me again with his jaw dropped in pleasant surprise.

“Valya, you dog~”

“I hate dogs,”

“Your biggest flaw, son,” he said with a sigh, “hopefully ‘Art’ wouldn’t mind—“

“I’m leaving,” I said, standing up again and making sure that this time I will not be pulled back to participate in this stupid discussion. Now I’ve lost one of the easiest ways to pass time. I need to do something else. I pulled out a cigarette as I think and to be honest nothing much comes to mind, make me believe my only humor is indeed myself and tormenting souls as Art said.

Maybe I can just hang around Art’s until it’s time. I fished out my phone and redialed the number I called her from yesterday but it didn’t pull through. It didn’t even ring once and the dial tone wasn’t there.

‘Don’t tell me she changes numbers at a time like this,’

I thought as I dialed again, the same thing happened and it left me to wonder what the f**k the card was for when she’s going to replace her numbers anyways. Now that I’m pissed I tried to pat down if her calling card is still in the coat pocket. Sure enough, it is, now to burn it as I planned—

Wait…

Looking at it now, the numbers on her card changed.

‘How in the hell?’

Is what’s running through my head, I compared the number on my phone and the number on the card and sure enough, it did change; I tried to dial the new contact on the card and it took a couple of rings before the call pulled through,

“You’ve reached Art, how can I help you?” was the first thing I heard Art say, which left me baffled, honestly.

“What kind of sorcery did you use on this card?” I asked and I heard her chuckle,

“Ah, it’s Valya, and don’t ask, I don’t know either, It was Ink who did it, what’s up?” she asked, which leads me to explain the purpose of my call.

“I’m bored, can’t I just wait around with you?” I asked,

“Oh…well, I guess it’s okay, sure~ I’ll text you our location,” she replied,

She ended the call after that, and soon after sent the message. Seems like we’re not hanging out the van in an alley and they used a proper room for this one. I’m pretty familiar with the place, so I just went ahead and grabbed one of the incognito cars and drove to that place.

It didn’t take long for me to reach the modest hotel in the less crowded and busy parts of the city. Parking the car, I went inside and headed straight to the elevator. The receptionist did look at me momentarily, but she minded her business soon enough. The text included the floor and room number and this is not a big building, so it was easy to navigate which room was which.

I reached room number 102 and knocked twice.

“Who’s there?” Art asked in a sing-sang tone,

“Were you expecting someone else?” I asked back,

Giggling, she opened the door, “Hello to you too, Mr. Hacksaw,” she replied with her usual bright expression, welcoming me inside where I saw Inka typing away at her laptop and having multiple profiles up on her multiple screens, it seemed elaborate.

Along with that was an array of clothing and luggage of SFX materials like cosmetics, wigs, some clay-like things, and even teeth were set on a large table and a large mirror made out of tiny cut squares was stuck on the wall. It seems like I’m the only one who took this mission lightly.

“I didn’t expect you to be here,” Inka quipped,

“Same,” was my simple reply,

After that was a time seem to drift aimlessly, Inka shows us a personal profile of some random man and I try to retain as much information as I could. Art was busy experimenting on her disguise,

“Okay, okay now…who do I look like, Valya?” she asked, turning to me with a completely different face, I was watching how she did it but her end result still startle me with how much her face morphed, I even took a picture of her bare face for comparison and to be quite honest it’s entertaining at some level.

She’s really nimble with her hands and she did tell me that the clay-like thing was actually a wax that she uses to change the texture and shape of some of her features, even to changing the color of her skin. There is no question that she’s a master at what she does.

“You look like a lady I’d see at the bookshop buying romance novels, then posting them on social media with overused hashtags,” I answered. I only meant to tease, but it just made her dismayed, throwing a fedora at me. It seems like I escaped frisky people just to end up with another one.

“Why don’t you try?” she challenged,

“No,” was my honest retort,

“Why not?” she asked,

“I pride myself in skills apart from those of creative origins,” I answered,

“So …you’re bland,” she retorted.

“Give me the brush—” I said as I lounge forwards and gently… shoved her off her seat in front of the mirror, taking the brush she was holding before facing the daunting mounds and piles of unfamiliar materials in front of me.

Chuckling Art snatched the brush from me again, “Valya don’t worry, there’s no shame in admitting you have zero artistic talent,” she teased and I raised an eyebrow,

“Why would I admit that? I’d be a liar, I do have some artistic talent, just not on a scale same as yours,” I replied, making her gasp and place a hand over her chest.

“My goodness… Is that a compliment?” she whispered in fake aghast,

“Like hell,” I said, shooting her down,

She just laughed after that, being her jolly-go-lucky self before grabbing my face and forcefully jerking it to face the mirror, “Fun time’s over, I’ll start my magic now,” she said as she cracked her knuckles, “Any requests? Glasses, mustache, beards… anything?” she listed.

“Beard, and I want to be ginger,” I said,

‘I want to know red looks good on me since I always have blood on my hand… I’m f*cking hilarious’

She froze with a curious look before nodding weakly, “Y-Yeah, sure, no problem,” she answered.

After that was set she spent about an hour and a half tweaking some of my features, she managed to conceal my crooked nose and smoothed out my mildly cleft chin, put green contacts on me under a small, rectangular frame-less fake glasses, and looked closely to any remarkable skin-tags or birthmarks that she should cover-up.

I’ve known more about myself in that span of time compared to my 24 years of existence, and excluding the bothersome moments where Arthur’s face was too close for comfort, it was a whole new experience.

“Freckles over here and… Done!” she announced, smiling at her handy work. I looked in front of the mirror and was momentarily startled. It stunned me that a completely different man was mimicking my actions but more than that, I was f*cking thrilled.

“You… are absolutely amazing, and yes, that’s a compliment,” I said, and she smirked, nodding proudly.

Inka then turned to us from her busy typing, perhaps to explain more details about the plan, but once she looked up to face both of us she paused, “…another Weasley—“

“Not funny,” I said,

“Yeah, for real Inka, I worked hard on this,” Art added,

Chuckling to herself, “Alright, alright, all I’m saying is we’re all ready for the big event, Miss Chelsea Arnolds and Mr. Walter Kowalski as your names respectively,”

“Why” I butted in, ‘Walter Kowalski’? No other options?

Ignoring me, Inka went on, “Art get dressed and Valya… you’re good, let’s pack this back to the van, it's 5:00 PM lady and gent, the party’s starting,” she announced.

After doing all the post preparations, the time is 5:30, and I just saw Sandra’s car pullover. She and her fiancé got off and walked close to the entrance. I texted her where we are and what we looked like and our pseudonyms, so when we regrouped, everything’s already settled.

And like a really bad joke, Sandra’s fiancé… was a bearded redhead who wears glasses and happens to be close to my height.

I can feel and hear both Sandra and Art’s failed attempts to hide their laughter. I and the fiancé in question just nodded to each other in awkward acknowledgment.

“You could pass off as cousins—no, siblings,” Sandra quipped, stifling a laugh,

“I’m so glad I listened to you, Valya,” Art said, doing the same,

We walked into the palace with them still holding it in and we were met by the guard holding a tablet, “Names, ladies and gentlemen?” he asked,

“Sandra Sandoval with my plus one, this lady over here,” She said gesturing to Art, “And my fiancé Levi Fellonrie, with his plus one, his cousin,” she added and we nodded, respectively.

The guard looked at us and smiled with a feeble head tilt, “I… see,” he said as he went over the said names and nodded after confirming them, he then pointed to the camera beside him, “Just please shows your face in the camera for identification purposes I wish you a pleasant night, ladies and gentlemen,” he said as he welcomed us inside.

From then on, we separated from the couple and began the mission. We exchanged smiles,

“Now, ‘Operation: Suck up’ is a go,” Art whispered.

“I'm not calling it that,” I whispered back, and just like that, we walked towards the crowd of distinct individuals, ready and set to spread lies.