“Just trust me.” (from Alfred)
Trust created unnecessary ties; an interference with his line of work. No good would come from warming up to those he was assigned with because of the possibility of being betrayed -- if they were stupid enough to try. Emotional detachment came with the job; they were easier to dispatch of when things turned awry. Past partners were wise enough to realise that they were never going to be regarded as anything more than colleagues by Lee. A person who - unfortunately - was chosen by The Network to pair up with him. No amount of persuasion by the organisation could force the hitman to trust their selection, and they were resigned to accept that. His skills were exemplary; they needed him. It was a known fact. And so he could get away with refusing to behave. He was his own person; who he chose to trust was entirely up to him. But taking a liking to somebody -- now, that was allowed in his rulebook. He may not trust them, but there was no stopping him from showing up inside their house uninvited for an impromptu conversation. A lovely natter. They had no choice in the matter when he did, but it was certainly better than being on his bad side.
New day, new hit. A simple case of money owed.
"Is that right?" There was a deep frown of concentration on his face as he studied himself in the floor-length mirror, scrutinising his appearance. His back was to Alfred, seemingly disregarding him entirely. Ever since becoming partially paralysed - his left arm a dead weight against his side - Lee had given up on looking his best. There was only so much he could do before losing the motivation to try. His yellow suit was slightly wrinkled and tie askew, but an attempt was made; it was passable given his disposition. Using his working arm to reposition the paralysed one, he settled it further down his body by pushing hard until it rested comfortably against his ribs. Fuck it -- that would do. Who was he trying to impress? "Not me you have to convince, matey." Now his reflection stared over at the other man, eyes settling directly on him. There was a glimmer of amusement in them. "But it helps." Stay on his good side and everything would be dandy.
"I think we should see how he's doing, don't you?" A quick change of topic. It was a rhetorical question as he picked up his lime-coloured duffel bag, the sound of metal inside clinking together as he did so. A satisfying sound, but even more were the sounds that were produced by using them. His knives were already stained maroon - and he resented placing them inside the leather holder without cleaning them thoroughly - but leaving his tools in front of his target was an amateur mistake. The most desperate person was willing to break their wrists to escape binds and grab the nearest weapon; he had seen it before. But they could only crawl so far with broken kneecaps. They associated his disability with slowness, but were quite surprised to be proven otherwise. It only made him stronger after adapting, forced to work harder. Quick as a whippet, he was capable of incapacitating them before they could even react.
The first sound they heard within the basement was heavy breathing, followed by wheezing courtesy of a broken nose. Well - altogether, a broken face. His features were indistinguishable; a new man entirely. But he still managed a sharp intake of breath as he heard Lee approach. Bloodied fingers gripped onto the arms of the chair he was tied to, the skin torn and nails removed. The duffel bag was placed on top of a metal trolley - unzipped - and his variety of tools removed once more. As he unrolled the leather holder, it revealed different sized knives and various surgical equipment. From scalpels to bone saws, they were well-looked after. They were an extension of him; it only made sense for him to care about them. Taking out a fresh pair of latex gloves, he discarded one and placed the other on with the help of his teeth before picking up a scalpel. Standing in front of the gentleman, Lee hummed as he casually studied what was left behind from before. Not much.
"It would have been easier for you to pay back the money you owe. But now I had to visit you." His voice was soft, gentle almost; a complete contrast to how he acted. "You're becoming a household name. And they're getting a bit upset with you, so we need to fix that." It was as though he was offering the man advice. A chance to work together to resolve the issue. "What do you think?" A pained groan was given in response. "Okay, good-" His words were cut off by the sound of his mobile ringing, the cheerful tone breaking the tense situation. With an apologetic smile, Lee removed his glove and retrieved the still-ringing mobile. Unknown number. "Sorry, I have to take this. I won't be a moment." Pressing accept, he placed it against his ear and listened carefully. His expression was still, giving nothing away as he spoke only to affirm. It lasted a few minutes, before he hung up and placed it back inside his blazer pocket. Turning to face Alfred, a bright smile was given. Unnerving to most, it had an air of unpredictability to it.
"Change of plans, matey." Picking up the scalpel once more, he presented it towards his partner. "His debts are paid, so they no longer need him." In other words, The Network had successfully overturned the gentleman's safety measures, drained his bank account and completely erased his identity. He was now legally dead. They were capable of doing that; destroying lives. "Your turn." It was closest Lee would get to trusting somebody. He was now allowing Alfred to take over the situation, relieving the hitman from being in control. It was a huge deal. "You're not going to let me down, are you?" The kindness of his tone disguised the subtle threat, but it was certainly felt in the way he stared a moment too long.
