Felix's POV

I had lost my kindness growing up. The forever-smiling face was all but a distant memory. Mother would be disappointed, but perhaps she would understand. I could remember just how much she liked pinching my cheeks which always ended with me smiling and blushing very hard. It made her smile.

Sometimes I wondered if it was because I stopped smiling that she did too. If I had known I would kept on smiling, even if it was painful to do so. I could have given her hope, held her hand a little tighter. Maybe all she needed was to see the mischievous grin on my face.

Needless to say, there was nothing amusing in my life. Life took its toll and the smiles disappeared. It didn't help that I chose a rather morose job. It really was unfitting to smile at people when you knew you were going to kill them. I spared them that levity. It didn't make me a good person –I knew that for a fact – but I killed them with dignity.

The boy was different. I already knew due to the personal nature of the mission that my interactions with him would be different. There was something else besides that. I found him amusing. There was something about the way he talked and the fear he tried to hide that amused me. For once in a long time I was smiling genuinely. My smiles at art events didn't count, they were as fake as smiles could come.

I expected the boy to cry and beg. That wouldn't have been amusing at all. It wouldn't have gotten any sympathy from me but it would have been a fitting reaction. He chose rather to insult me. It was a foolish act, but also a brave act. I'd seen grown man cry and beg. The boy was clearly braver than most of my targets, a testament that bravery was not a product of age.

He was also very foolish, a quality I surprisingly liked. Rather than cry and beg to be let go, he was tempting me to kill him sooner. It was an act of bravery, and I held bravery above all else. He reminded me of a younger me in Russia, scaling walls 30 feet high without any support. Of course I doubted he'd do that, but he'd impressed me nonetheless

*

The next morning I woke up in high spirits. Phase 2 of my plan was due to begin that day. Unlike Phase 1, phase 2 was more of a wait-and-watch. It required no input from me.

I woke up early and wondered if the boy had slept at all. His body had experienced floods of hormones which had probably kept him awake all night. It was unfortunate. I wasn't sadistic –contrary to what he thought of me –I had no desires to see him suffer. He was after all not the main target.

When I got to the kitchen, I figured I would make him breakfast. It was a challenge. I had zero cooking kills. I was also not so much into grocery shopping.

The interior decorator had insisted on a large floor to ceiling pantry in the kitchen, which was a waste of space considering how empty it was. I grabbed the first thing I saw, which was a tin of beans. Within a few seconds I had the beans in a plastic bowl. I grabbed my half eaten loaf of bread and went down to the basement.

The boy was awake, staring at the wall my paintings were lying against. He huffed when he saw me. It seemed like he was sulking that day.

I put my items on the floor, first making sure that the bread was sealed properly. Locating a pair of handcuffs, I shackled the boy's leg to the chair and released his hands.

"Breakfast is ready!" I said in an amused tone.

"I hate beans!" he snorted.

"Well, that's all you are getting", I said.

"Couldn't you make something better?" he grimaced.

"This is not a hotel", I said simply.

I walked over to a chair on his right, just a little away from him and sat down lazily in it. Minutes went by without any movement from him or me.

"Are you going to eat or what?" I finally asked.

"Looks disgusting", he spewed.

"You are breaking my heart", I said with mirth in my voice.

He shot me a look. It looked as though daggers were going to shoot out of his eyes an second.

I put my hands behind my head, leaning over the chair so I could stretch my back. "Eat – don't eat, I don't care".

"Why should I eat anyway? You are going to kill me", he said.

"True, but I thought you'd appreciate not suffering before that", I said.

He glared at me. I was sure he was imagining me burning in hell. Maybe even him turning the roast spit.

"If I wasn't so hungry right now, I'd hit you with this bowl!" he retorted as he picked up the bowl and bread. "Beans seriously? This is so cliché".

I ignored him, turning my attention to the TV in the room. It was old, but I knew it worked fairly well. I went over to plug it in and switch it on, retrieving the remote from its top. The picture that came on wasn't of good quality, but I elected to watch it. It wouldn't be that much satisfying watching the one upstairs. The boy had to be present for this.

I scrolled through channels while they boy ate hungrily. I had forgotten to bring him some juice but he didn't seem to mind or found it to be degrading to ask me for it. He was probably doing the latter. Either way, I didn't mind. I didn't want to go upstairs at that moment.

I found the channel I was looking for. It was a local TV station channel which seemingly always repeated everything they broadcast 3 times in 24 hours. It didn't have many programs, a waste of time and money if you asked me.

"...His jacket was found a few meters from the house he'd been a guest in. According to witnesses, the boy was seen having an argument with his boyfriend before storming out..."

"It hasn't even been 24 hours and they are looking for you", I said loudly to Archer, cutting into the newslady's words.

"Ex boyfriend, they could at least get that right", he said.

"You aren't concerned that they are looking for you?" I asked, turning to look at him.

He stopped eating. "If I am will you let me go?"

"No".

He rolled his eyes. "Thought so".

"Several witnesses have reported seeing the boy with another man seemingly having a friendly conversation before they saw what they described as "the man choking the boy before putting him in the trunk of his car. The police are treating this as a kidnapping case until confirmed otherwise. If..."

"You are right. They are crappy. I didn't put you in the trunk", I said grinning.

"That makes me feel a lot better", he said sarcastically.

"The boy's mother has been advised not talk to the media yet, but sources close to the family have confirmed that the mother is distraught by what has happened to her only child. She refuses to eat or do anything, which is understandable" the lady on the TV continued.

"Poor mommy", I said in mockery. No words could describe how I felt hearing how distraught people were.

"Switch it off!" my hostage demanded.

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to hear it!" he said firmly.

"Don't you want to know that they are coming to rescue you? I sure would like to hear them appeal to my human side", I said.

"You have no freaking human side, now turn it off!"

"Okay okay", I said and put the TV on stand-by mode.

The boy was done eating, the bowl thrown to the floor. Clearly he didn't appreciate my hospitality. I was too happy to be offended.

"Let's play a game", I said.

"Guess the killer?" he mocked, raising an irritated blow.

"Something like that" I said leaning back in my chair.

"Is there any answer that doesn't rhyme with zoo? Which is where I think you belong by the way", he said.

His insults were in some way cute. They didn't make me angry, which wasn't really a feat, I rarely got angry. It was his ability to get a reaction from me. And the reaction in question was the more surprising.

"Remember what I said last night? If you figure out who I want to get revenge on I'll tell you a story", I said.

"I'm not 10. I don't need stories. I don't need you to make death less scary. I don't want to feel better about this situation. You have a nerve thinking you can soften me up!" he said.

I shrugged. "I thought you needed to know why I was doing this".

He sized me up, looking from my feet to my face. It looked more like he was scanning me to see if there was a cell in my body that contained an ounce of truth.

"I don't know who!" he said in frustration.

"If I give you a clue you have only one guess", I said.

"Seriously? This is not some freaking mobile game like Murder manor!"

"Those are my rules. And by the way, you have only three guesses. Choose wisely", I said.

"What if I guess one wrong and then choose the hint?" he asked.

"That is breaking the rules, but go ahead. I can be nice", I said. It was my turn to be sarcastic. He was probably calling me a mean bitch in his head, which wouldn't be so far off.

"Clark?"

I shook my head.

"Hmm" he said. He had a thinking face on, which consisted of furrowed brows, almost-closed eyes and lips pushed to one side of the face.

"Give me the hint", he said quietly.

"Female", I said.

"Seriously?" he bellowed. "That's your hint?"

I nodded. "I didn't say if it would be useful".

"Well thank you Mr. I am done playing this stupid game. Don't you have some drugs to snort?"

"How did you come to the conclusion I use drugs?" I asked, very much interested in the answer.

"Because I am here, still alive, playing your stupid game which obviously is just a waste of time. You want me to smuggle drugs, right? Maybe to Europe? I look quite decent. I won't attract border authorities", he said.

I chuckled. "You still have one guess", I said.

"You didn't deny it! Seriously, of all things you could be that's badass you decided to be a junkie? I'm disappointed", he said acting slightly wounded.

"Would you rather I was a rapist?" I asked.

"Well, no", he huffed, crossing his arms. That reminded me that I had to restrain his hands.

"Tell me. Which crime is worst to you? The bible says sin is sin, society has other ideas. So tell me, which crime would absolve me slightly in your eyes?" I asked.

"None!" he yelled slightly.

"Don't be typical. Is a murderer equal to a thief?"

"Well obviously not. A murderer takes a life, a thief takes belongings. Life is more precious", he said.

"How about a murderer who kills murderers? Is he any better?" I asked.

"...If that act prevents other lives from being taken, yes. But it's only justifiable if there was definite proof that the murdered murderer was going to commit murder", he said, grinning afterwards. "I've never said those words in that order. Personally, I believe people have a right to life and life is sacred and not static. If a person commits a crime, murder even, as long as that person is still functioning normally, they have a chance at reform and rehabilitation. If the person attempts to rape, kill or commit other violent crimes, the person who kills him/her is not at fault provided there was no other way to prevent the crime from happening".

I nodded absent-mindedly. His words had affected me. I had defined myself as a contract killer. It was a job, nothing else. That's what I always said to myself. I had tried my outmost to not involve my judgment, but I had. With every person that I had gotten rid of, I'd done a background check on them before accepting. I didn't take every job. It looked like I was scrupulous in my denials and acceptances.

"Why on earth did I just have a civil conversation with you?" he asked frowning.

I chuckled. He'd brought me out of my contemplation. "Because you have strong opinions and no matter how much you despise me right now, you couldn't stop yourself from letting me know your thoughts".

He rolled his eyes.

"You are not going to be a drug mule Archer", I said quietly.

"Aw, I'm disappointed. I'd always wanted to have condoms full of cocaine burst while in my stomach", he said.

"Well unfortunately you won't get to", I said.

"So prostitution?" he asked. He was calm with his question, but the grey eyes reflected his uncertainty. He didn't want me to say yes, but he wanted me to give him an answer, to put him out of his misery. He was afraid of the answer but he needed it.

"You still have one guess", I reminded him.

"Fuck you and your mystery! Why can't you just freaking tell me what you want with me? Do you want me to beg you? That isn't going to happen. I hope you fucking trip and land on an axe... make that a chainsaw that is on", he yelled.

"I don't have those in the house, but maybe they'll magically appear", I said standing up. My stomach had just growled, reminding me that I hadn't had breakfast.

While I was picking up the bowl he'd thrown, the boy said, "House? I'm in a house?"

"Yes. You are in the basement. I'm leaving now. I'll be back later", I said.

"As much as I appreciate that, I'll be happier if you die", he said.

"Then you'd never leave this place. I think starving to death while staring at these walls is more torturous than my plan", I said as I walked out of the room.

I hadn't secured his hands but I wasn't concerned. Even if he stood up, he couldn't reach anything. His ankle handcuff was secure, making sure he didn't move far from the chair. And maybe a little part of me wanted to give him a bit of movement so he could stretch and attain some sort of comfortable position. I wasn't sadistic after all.