Mr & Mr Hitman

The plain truth

"Hello S," the deuteragonist, Vixen, Cameron Taylor, smirked.

Samuel stared blankly at him. His lack of reaction didn't match the number of thoughts wandering in his mind. He was overwhelmed, confused, and taken aback, but above all, he felt betrayed. But did he have the right to?

The protagonist bit his lips, squinting his eyes. What was this feeling?

Relief? Astonishment?

No, it was frustration.

The man that he hated above anyone, his one and only rival, was right under his nose and he didn't even realize.

"Till when were you going to keep this from me?", Samuel finally spoke.

Cameron shook his head, "I could ask you the same, Mr. Hitman."

"So you're a woman? Or a fetish perhaps?", the main character scratched his neck, "Or are dresses more comfortable?"

"Nothing like that, I'm just doing my job-", the man answering was interrupted.

"Well I have the same job but I never once wore-", Sam was cut off as well.

"So you're Cameron, that bastard that got his place burned down?", Brian inquired. "This is beyond all the things I expected."

"I'm sorry to interfere in your queries, but we have a mission to discuss," Justin lit a cigarette, "We never said he was a woman to begin with," and without any further comments, the four men got into business.

Mrs. Shanon Fred was the owner of a strip club, namely 'Uranus Strip Club'. For unknown reasons, she ordered to execute Joseph Camargo and Gary Hansen, two regular customers. She had already planned how to perform the murder. Both the men had reserved rooms for private sessions, the hitmen will just have to sneak in secretly before the victims arrive and the rest will depend on the assassins.

"You'll go there as-", Justin tried to conclude their conversation.

"Strippers?", Samuel rose his eyebrows.

"Customers, but if you feel like showing your talents, you're most welcomed to do so-", Vixen's boss replied, hesitating at first.

"Did she mention the time?", Cameron shook his head at the unprofessional conversations.

"Today before midnight," Brian spoke. "Remember, no evidence, no witnesses, and no suspicion."

After memorizing the address and the faces of their targets, the men all left, Samuel stepping in front of his new partner. "You're coming with me."

Cameron blinked, "To where?"

"You'll see."

All the unnecessary tension and curiosity the younger man felt while he sat behind Sam on his motorcycle was cleared when they stopped in front of a coffee shop.

"You know, you could've just told me that," Cameron walked in.

Completely ignoring the comment, Samuel placed his order, "One cold brew with no sugar and no milk please," he turned to the other man,

"I'll take one latte."

"You know C, you have that bad habit of following strangers first and then doubt them later," the main character took a seat, while Cameron sat opposite of him.

"That's because I know I can protect myself if they try anything funny," he eyed Sam.

"Did you know I was a hitman too?", Samuel asked.

"I had no idea until that order from Mr. Chase," Vixen answered, "I really didn't think an idiot like you could kill people."

Thanking the waitress who brought their drinks, Sam chuckled, "That's more surprising that a short guy like you could beat up five guys in one go."

They enjoyed their coffee, talking about their past commissions, the weirdest disguises they had to wear, the time where they could've gotten caught, and about almost everything about their works.

Somehow it felt like they were getting closer by the minute.

At around six, they returned home where they would get ready for their task. Upon entering the shower, Samuel started analyzing the situation.

"I feel like everything is happening too quickly," he grasped the shampoo bottle, pouring the lavender-scented liquid on his damp hair.

Were there really no clues about Cameron's identity? Or was I just blind?

But on the other hand, he disguised and kept this charade for so long, it wouldn't be a surprise if acting is one of his bonus points.

He scrubbed his scalp, while he shut his eyes, "Three killers in an apartment," he mumbled.

Would Cameron trust Priscilla with his secret?

He groaned, violently drying his hair with a towel, "I really need a cigarette."

Smoking was a coping mechanism for Samuel. Whenever he felt frustrated, anxious, stressed, distressed, or any other negative feelings, he would lit up a Malboro, his favorite brand. But in cases where there wasn't any tobacco available, chewing on some mints was his second option.

"C is Vixen and Vixen is C," he repeated, eventually creating a rhythm with the words, while he rummaged through his drawer. He had black jeans on, looking for a shirt to go with it. Finally, a dark greyish blue shirt that he buttoned up except a single button was the deal. He desperately tried to style his hair, with no luck.

He opened the back door to his balcony, belatedly absorbing the nicotine he hopelessly needed. He glanced down, noticing Stephen heading out.

"Hey there, Mr.Hudson," Sam yelled at the tenant.

"Hello boy, do you have anything you need? I'm going to get groceries," the man replied, as he looked up while he shielded his eyes with his hand.

"No sir I'm good, thanks for asking," he hummed, smiling at the thought of how kind his neighbors were.

Then you have this one dude with his burnt cookies.

He sighed.

There I go thinking about him again.

"Olivia is coming over on Friday, I want to see everyone at my dinner table," the older man pointed at him, "Without fault."

"I wouldn't miss your excellent plates for anything in the world," Sam laughed.

Olivia was the only daughter of the Hudson, namely the mother of Nathaniel.

Nobody knew that the same silent and soft woman would turn into a killer.

...

The good answer was C.
It always is.
At least for Sam.
¯\_(ツ)_/¯