Chapter 2: Mission to Love

The mission was to love him.

As to how she'll gonna do that, she doesn't have any idea. Maybe if she learns about him on a close-range basis, she'll understand him and love him in the process. Maybe if she'll just hold her horses from coming out, she'll see him in a different light. Maybe. Just maybe.

After helping the man twice, she hailed a cab and put her sunglasses on her bag as a yellow cab stopped in front of her.

"Where to ma'am?"

She told him the address Noir gave; the address from an apartment building, maybe the organization sympathize with her a little and rent a home after they slammed in her face that they want her out.

For the whole car ride, her thoughts were flying out from the open window,  not minding the beautiful view that another country was giving, she already had enough of traveling, considering that her last mission treated traveling from a different country as changing clothes.

She followed Alas Crowne for the sole reason that he's part of a black organization or rather he was the sole heir of a secret criminal organization that operates in the United States and Italy and other countries. They've done many things to worsen the already crime-filled world, and she volunteered to be the one who'll eradicate him, but she's struggling on this task, and even though the organization gave her another chance she'll bet a dollar that they have made a whole lot different plan from hers and she'd be anticipating to know what it was.

When the car halted and the driver announced their arrival she gave him her fare and murmured  'thank you' before getting out of the car.

She set her luggage aside as she scanned the building in front and waited for the car to accelerate behind her before slowly entering the building.

Just the sole reason of giving her again a second chance even if she gave out a reason that he's an ersatz, half of the heads of the organization didn't agree with her theory, they offered anything but a red flag, but here she was, with the help of Noir, she'll do her best to arrange anew her mission.

The scorching summer heat made the parking lot in front of the building glimmer as it traced white lines that can accommodate a few cars, there's a black motorcycle parked beside the awkward lying curb beside the apartment, green plants were settled on a plant box that took half of the curb, few people were having a conversation outside of their small balcony, a woman carrying a toddler and a tote bag walking on the stoned pavement came into view.

"Careful," she said as she was in time to impede the woman from losing her footing on a crevice.

"Oh, thank you," the woman replied and the toddler gave out a squeak. As the woman spoke, Cleo noticed that she's a lot younger than she thought, more so, when she saw her face, she looked like she's about her age but with baggy clothes, a loose white pullover, and a brown long skirt patterned with what looked like mud.

"I'm sorry, I'm a bit clumsy." She has a nice smile, her hair was tied carelessly and her toddler kept playing on it as if the doll on her other hand wasn't enough.

"It's fine. You're welcome," Cleo replied, she doesn't have anything to say but to be kind to the woman in front of her that she even said her greeting to the toddler.

"She's Noa," she said showing the toddler on her as she struggled from her squirming and gawking. "I'm Farah."

The toddler was around three, wearing pink pants and a white shirt with a strawberry shortcake embedded on it. She has big, pinkish cheeks that she imagined eating cotton candy, her baby hair was stuck around her forehead as beads of sweats appeared on her tiny button nose.

"You're going to rent here? I should tell you, the rent here's affordable and decent, I'd be happy to welcome you as my neighbor," she said with utmost sincerity and astonishment.

Once again, Cleo looked at her slim, soft face, she doesn't wear any make-up and has dark spots below her eyes, and basing also on what she wore Cleo concluded that she's another mother who was raising her child alone, but of course, that was just what she surmised, she can never confirm it, and if ever she does, not in front of the woman's beautiful face.

"Yes. I'll stay here, I'm in apartment 7," she replied. The little girl gave her a grin, her smile was just like her mother. Too innocent and kind for the world.

Farah's shoulder tensed and her mood deflated as if she just heard something wrong.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, giving a sense of pure curiosity.

Farah shook her head. "I remember, I have to peel the carrots for Noa."

She walked toward the third door of the ten-roomed apartment as Cleo waved goodbye and shook off the feeling of discomfort.

She shrugged her shoulders before she turned and went on the staircase that led to the apartment, she made a mental note of all the things happening. First, this was a simple, run-down apartment complex, and it looked a bit simple than what she expected to see, it's not like she was judging, but the Alas Crowne she knew won't hesitate to waste money especially on where he would stay, the boy can buy a country by accident and then just shrugged it off.

As she stared face to face with the green door in front. She heard the sound of a TV running behind the door. She looked around she pushed the only button on the side of the door and count to ten before it opened and welcomed her with the same guy in Spain.

Tall facade, dark eyes, pale skin, roman nose. And a speck of gold hairs from his new colored black hair he'd done quickly enough on his own made an appearance to her.

“Hey! Are you the one that mom sent to help me? Great, just what I was waiting for,” he mumbled the last words under his breath, "But not really, mom can stop treating me like a baby.”

Her face was enough to make him frown and questioned the words he said.

“You’re not?” He let the words fall in his mouth with a tinge of disappointment and tilt his shoulders slightly.

His jet black eyes bore a hole in her soul and his disheveled hair like he just wakened up or something add gloriously to his appearance.

The organization has its fiery eyes set on her because the only person they successfully imprinted closed to perfection made a mistake and show signs of being human. Does Noir know about this? Did he check this for her? And if he did why does he intentionally skip this vital part while she was on the plane ride with him?

The guy cleared his throat. “So… I was mistaken," he said and that’s when her eyes squinted on him.

She knows the smell of alcohol; she has memorized it because Noir loves to drink whenever he needed to think and if this was another condition of the organization because of her failed mission, she must muster up the courage and take the challenge in front of her head-on.

“Yes, yes I am. The help that your mother contacted." She beamed at him to cover her bewildered face. She didn’t know she can say those words.

He made a small nod and grin before sluggishly walked back.

"So, you're a robot maid," he said with his back in front of her. 

"I'm sorry?"

"You are," he said, gazing again at her and pointing her stone-washed jeans and long sleeve shirt with a sweater tied loosely on her neck and the luggage she's been tugging behind.

"A robot maid, mom bought from overseas," he said as he continued to walked back.

"You don't know? Your purpose is to stay with me and assist me with whatever I need. You're practically my friend, helper, and my robot maid."

She had no choice but to let herself in; the man he was talking to wasn't on his senses and as if another drunk man, he let his door open, inviting her to get in, so she wore house slippers before noticing that he slumped his face on the grey couch.

With the TV on a channel where a girl group she never recognized was dancing in fancy music. She let out a sigh. He just sleeps on her.

Roaming her eyes around, there was a spiral staircase that leads to another two parallel doors. She looked back at him and saw the bottles of beer on his side, some on his feet and his hand hanging limply on the carpeted floor clutching an empty beer bottle, then the clothes that were scattered on the floor, her head automatically looked at the kitchen on her back and saw the same mess strewn around the kitchen floor.

She was so sure that he drink all night and was now drunk in the bright morning light. She groaned and almost kicked his arm on the carpeted floor.

“Sir, I’m not your maid. I’m your killer.” She internally rolled her eyes, if only she could say that even in his sleeping appearance. She first chose the kitchen where the ugly smell of alcohol was coming, then the scattered clothes and the empty bottles of beer before settling them all in one place. Not missing a single chance to memorized his house and inspecting the black jacket laying on the chair.

She gave out a loud sigh before she picked up a big basket that seemed to be for dirty clothes on a corner and walked to the cramped laundry area.

This box she just opened was so surprising, not to mention annoying.

It's so much for loving him first before killing him.