Are You Feeling Nervous?
Regulus closes his left eye, staring out the scope on his gun. He’s going to finish this job. Then he’s going to go back to the motel room and shower for an hour, minimum. His whole body is stiff from kneeling behind a shrub for three hours, and he’s had to pee for the last two. This fucking guy– Regulus won’t have any regrets about killing him (not that he was going to have any)– just for making him wait this long. It was supposed to be quick, arrive in the late evening and wait for the target to come outside for a smoke break before he shoots him in the head. Regulus is starting to doubt this guy even smokes. He leans forward, aiming upwards a bit, right for the head, through the window. He’s going to pull the trigger and shoot him now, fuck the plan, fuck Barty and Evan for picking the other targets, fuck this job–
Then he hears the footsteps behind him.
Regulus whips around, finger still on the trigger. The footsteps are barely there, and Regulus knows he wouldn’t have heard them at all if Barty didn’t want him to. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he whispers, glaring.
Barty’s grinning, even with Regulus’s gun pointed at his face. Because of course he is. He kneels down, making himself invisible to anybody looking from the houses around them, “I finished my job.”
Regulus scoffs, “So you decided to ruin mine?”
“Maybe I figured you needed some help, since you’re taking twice as long as both of us combined.” They both know Regulus doesn’t really need help; he’d never failed to complete a job before, and he really doesn’t plan to start now.
Regulus rolls his eyes and turns back around, and some of the tension leaves his body when he realizes the target has finally stepped outside, pulling out a cigarette. He doesn’t even get to light it before Regulus pulls the trigger. The shot lands, and the man falls, his blood and parts of his head splattering across the porch and sliding glass door. It’s not a pretty sight, but they’re both used to it by now.
“Let’s go.” Regulus is quick to stand, walking into the woods behind the man’s house. They lead right to a park. It’s the ideal getaway, honestly. Regulus’s car is parked in the car lot of the park, and they’ll have to walk a few minutes to get to it. The sooner they get there the better. The suppressor muffled the shot, but it never hides the sound completely, and Regulus doesn’t doubt one of the neighbors will call the police soon enough.
“God, that job was awful.” Regulus groans as he shuts the door to the hotel room, laying down on the closest of the two beds.
Evan looks at him in pity, “This might’ve been the quickest I’ve ever had, I’ve been back for two hours.”
Barty laughs and sits next to Evan on the other bed, “That’s because you got an idiot who actually fell for your stupid trick.’”
Evan rolls his eyes, “it’s a good trick!”
It’s Evan’s favorite way to get rid of somebody, leaving a note telling the target to meet him somewhere remote in the middle of the night. This time Regulus is pretty sure it was about his ex wife. It's got about a 30% hit rate, and it’s honestly shocking how many of the people they’re hired to kill are that stupid.
It’s usually the three of them on jobs in the same area, or for the same person, and Evan usually finishes his part of the job first.
“Hey, by the way,” Evan looks at Regulus, “boss wants to talk to you as soon as we get back to headquarters.”
Regulus raises his eyebrow and hums. That can’t be good, but he’s not sure what he’s done wrong, either.
Regulus stands outside Riddle’s office, waiting to be called in. He’s nervous, but you can’t tell by looking at him. Actually, Barty might be able to, he has a knack for it, but Regulus would never admit that.
He looks up when the door to Riddle’s office is opened, his assistant, Nagini, standing in front of it. “He will see you now.” Regulus nods, walking into the office. She seems like a sweet girl, but something about her always unnerves Regulus.
Riddle is sitting behind a large desk, unmoving. Regulus tries to think of what he could have done to end up in this position, but he comes up short.
“Mr. Black, take a seat.” Riddle smiles, his eyes blank. Regulus has only met him a few times, still more than most recruits. Very few of his hitmen see him after they’re recruited, Regulus figures both sides prefer it that way. He takes a seat.
“Have I done something wrong?” Why not cut to the chase? Much more convenient for both of them.
Riddle laughs, his eyes still blank. “No, much the contrary, you are one of my best employees.”
There’s a beat of silence. Riddle raises his eyebrow. “Thank you.”
Riddle nods, “I have brought you here because I have a job for you.”
“You aren’t usually the one handing out the jobs,” Regulus turns his head. The job must be high profile, or personal. If he believed in God he would pray for the former.
“No, I’m not. This job is… important. You are the best person for it.” High profile. Regulus can handle that.
“Why am I the best person?”
“The target is… connected to your family, in a way. He’s rich, and holds a lot of power in the community. A prosecutor.”
Damn it, personal. “Connected to my family in what way?”
“He’s friends with your brother.”
“No.” It comes out of his mouth almost involuntarily at the mention of Sirius.
Riddle raises his eyebrow again. “I’m afraid you’re not in a position to turn this down.”
Regulus wants to curse Riddle, flip his desk, and storm out. He says nothing.
“Good. Now, this will be a long job, you will have to bond with the target. I suggest you do so through the ruse of wanting to make up with your estranged brother.”
Regulus clenches his jaw, the only outward emotion he’ll let himself show in front of Riddle. “How long will this go on for?”
“A few months, most likely. You will have to play nice with your brother long enough for him to introduce you to his friends, then play nice with his friends for long enough to be alone with the target. He has security with him at all times unless he’s inside his home, so your normal methods won’t work.”
Regulus just nods, on autopilot.
“Great,” Riddle smiles that same, rehearsed smile, “You have a week to prepare, and then you will contact your brother.”
“What if he doesn’t answer?” It’s a false hope, and Regulus knows it.
“He will.”