A Oneshot with Adult!Reborn from KHR!, I own nothing except the OC. The title was influenced by La Roux's Bulletproof. This story is originally on my Quizilla, just in case you were wondering.
"Who's my target?" A figure asked, clad in a suit with a fedora, tipped, so his face was washed by darkness.
"Your target is Alyssa Capone." The other figure replied, making the one with the tipped fedora let out a 'hmph.'
"Alyssa Capone, huh? Must be Al's daughter. I thought he didn't have one."
"No one did, until recently. She has been put through excessive training, but due to her medical condition, it has been rough, and she was sent to the hospital. Gave almost everything about her away, now she's a prime target."
"How excessive was the training?"
"Actually minor, but she was diagnosed with osteoporosis, strange enough. Once this had gotten through the hospital about a young woman being diagnosed with such a disease, the press jumped to the story."
"It ended up in the newspaper-"
"-and on the television. The doctors say it must be because she is so thin, and she had poor eating habits and low intake of calcium. But Alyssa is your prime target at the moment."
"At the moment?"
"There is another I need you to eliminate, but don't worry about that now. Alyssa is just your average woman who was homeschooled her whole life."
"Doesn't seem average to me. Of course the mother didn't want people to know that she had Al Capone's daughter, or she'd end up being a target. No surprise she is, Al Capone was the most infamous gangster in New York, mainly Chicago, but didn't he have a wife?"
"He, in theory, might've met this woman, Alyssa's mother, and had relations with her, and then met Mary. But the money on her father's head had passed down to her, but she's just a mutt, an Italian-German, and I'm pretty sure she'll be easy to take down."
Of course, the figure with the fedora felt uncomfortable about gunning down a lady, an innocent one diagnosed with osteoporosis at that, but hey! A target's a target. Now why the hell would he think that? She has done nothing, she didn't want things to turn out that way. Well, life sucks, but it shouldn't suck that bad, right? Well, maybe not cause life can suck horribly at times, though it didn't get to the fedora-wearing figure. He just carried out his mission like he was ordered. He gets the job done. Though it can suck, like this mission.
He mentally shrugged it off, he'll just befriend her, maybe get her to bed and kill her painlessly then. Well, she sounds easy and naive, but what if she isn't? This'll be a hard mission. Women are so difficult and mind-boggling; like a 1O,OOO piece jigsaw puzzle.
Long slender fingers pressed against a grand piano's keys, playing a soft melody. Bare feet pressed the pedals gently when necessary. The large window in the semi-large house was open as the windows covered one whole side of the wall. The curtains were pushed aside, and there were paparazzi in the bushes, trying to get a picture of the young girl.
Her pale blond hair went up to the ides of her neck with bangs stopping right about her bright dazzling emerald eyes as they sparkled in the sunlight. Her pale skin matched her hair, and the woman was rather tall, very, very thin and frail, looking like she had just escaped a Concentration Camp.
She wore a regular white shirt with flare sleeves and a pale pink knee-length skirt. Just by looking at her, she seemed very quiet and much like an introvert, and it was the truth. Her heart was into playing the piano, the flute, and painting sceneries in her spare time. People can't just leave her alone, until she heard shouting from her mother from the doorway, making her hands accidentally slam onto the piano.
"Alyssa! Alyssa get away from there," her mother said urgently, pulling her daughter into a tight hug, dragging her away from the room, "you don't want people to see you." She said unhappily, looking down at her daughter, surprisingly taller than her.
"M-mother! Why are you-what are you doing?" She yelped in her hushed voice as her mother brought her closer than ever.
"I don't know what I'd do if you were taken from me." She quivered, making Alyssa get all teary-eyed.
"Mother, I'll be fine. Don't worry, I can take care of myself now, I'm a grown woman, don't worry, please." She whimpered in a soft voice as her mother sighed, sniffing.
"If you're going out, please, please be careful my Alyssa, because if you aren't cautious, I'll have to plan your funeral by myself." She said with dark humor which actually gave Alyssa a chuckle. "If you're going to go and paint, your material is on the counter, like always." She said in a soft voice as Al walked across the wooden floors, taking what she needed; a canvas, water, brushes, paints, a palette, and a light wooden canvas stand, packing it all into a large paper bag. She wished her sniffling mother off, wandering outside.
She heard the flickering of cameras, being anxious and jumpy, afraid it could actually be the sound of guns cocking, but she has never heard a gun cock nor heard it go off, so she hurried her way to the park.
Al took in the smell of trees, flowers, and sunshine in the small Italian village that had much foliage. She went to her favorite park, walking to a vacant bench, still hearing cameras, but she just let them continue. Alyssa set out her canvas stand and had gotten everything ready, beginning to paint, and the camera flickering had stopped. She grinned softly, painting on the doves on the ground, the trees and buildings in the background with the numerous paints.
The man in the suit had took notice of a woman on the bench, remembering it was her target, but he imagined a girl with a fedora, a pin-striped suit, high heels and a machine gun. He was wrong, oh so very wrong. She looked casual, and painted beautiful paintings that should be sold at high prices; they were masterpieces!
He had walked over to her as the doves flew away, and thankfully she finished painting them. He took a seat, staring at the painting, "Hello." She said softly, not irritated, but clearly busy, giving him a quick glance, and he had her pale sickly face embedded in his head, but her eyes stood out. It was the highlight of her ill beauty, along with her cherry pink glossy lips that looked so kissable.
The figure sat in a prestigious position; an erect back while crossing his legs, looking at the painting, "Lovely piece." He said simply, and she nodded, continuing. It wasn't her favorite, but she liked it. "Excuse me, but do you put your piece up in art galleries?" He asked, ready to suck information out of her.
"No, I don't." She looked calm.
Truth.
He nodded. So far so good, he just had to lie to get to what he wanted; her dead. Oh, well, that wasn't really putting it lightly, I suppose, but hey, he's just trying to be straightforward, maybe a bit too blunt though.
"That's really shocking. Maybe I've heard you around." He said, staring at her body for some form of difference in movement.
"My name's Amelia Basso." Her brush stroke was slightly fazed, not so light, it was darker.
Lie.
He narrowed his eyes at her, his fedora still covering his upper-face in darkness. He was being very straightforward about this mission, which was almost like a shocker though.
"I have given you my name, may I have yours?" He was silent, and she looked at him, straight into his eyes, and they seemed . . . golden? She couldn't say if that was the right word, but they were still dazzling. "It's common courtesy." She said softly, looking at him directly.
"My name's Vito." He said, staying indifferent, though his voice pitch was off so slightly, it only took someone with amazing ears to notice. Alyssa narrowed her eyes.
"You're lying to me." Then her eyes widened as she stood up immediately, her painting falling over as she backed up, terrified. "Are you a hitman?" She whimpered loudly, in fear of her life as she kept her legs tightly knit together, and her arms in front of her chest, her hands balled into a fist. She gave a dire look to the fedora-wearing man who looked unfazed, and he stood up, making her take a step back, her arms falling to her side. Alyssa gave a brave look like "If you're gonna shoot me, then shoot me." It took courage to face death head on, and it even impressed the man.
"Reborn." She gave him a strange look, "My name is Reborn, and I know your name, Alyssa Capone. Who doesn't anymore?" He couldn't help but say, making her take another step back, and he advanced forward to her, and she froze on the spot.
"Get away from me. You're just like everyone else, trying to get the money on my head because of my accursed father, but think again. I'm not going to die just yet, I've already been diagnosed with something women my age aren't supposed to have. So just tell everyone else that I REFUSE to be a target!" She said with a lewd, yet hurt, look, turning away to leave, but misplaced her step, gasping as she begun to fall.
In a flash, Reborn was right beside her, a firm hand on her hip, and another holding her hand. She blushed quite heavily, a flash of relief crossing her eyes. If she had fell, she would've broken her hip. Alyssa was frozen in that position, as so was Reborn. She felt a tingle up her spine, snapping sense into her. He was the hunter and she was supposed to be the hunted, there was a huge difference between them, so she snapped away from him.
Alyssa walked over to her painting, seeing the various smudges, making her give a sad sigh, gathering everything up with the painting on the bench. She watched as a figure clad in a suit help her with her fallen items.
"Go away." She grumbled, and he ignored her wish as she stood up and threw her paint brushes into the bag. "I said go away." She growled, and Reborn only smirked, seeing the murderous intent in her eyes. There was something in her eyes that showed that she had the same temper as her father; may not be as quick, but it was still there. Alyssa became Al in a heartbeat's moment, and Reborn finally saw her as the girl in the pin-striped suit with the fedora and machine gun.
"Heh, hello Al Capone." He said, smirking and standing up. Alyssa looked like she was going to pounce on him, and he was almost, almost, worried that she might. "You're an interesting character Al, I won't kill you just yet. Rather, I'll protect you from the other hitman. You have potential, something in you that could be . . . important." He said, then took his leave soon after. Alyssa's eyes became sad, and she sort of fancied him, even after he pissed her off.
Alyssa had already grabbed everything and went back to her house, the curtain of darkness beginning to unfold as she threw her items onto the counter. Her mother must've been in her bedroom, so Al went unwelcomed, going to her bedroom and taking a quick shower.
The water was hotter than hell, washing away all the bacteria and fear she still felt. The rush Reborn had given her just by holding her waist and hand, what if he held more and-
"Oh stop thinking about that!" She growled loudly, gripping her blond hair as the water made her skin turn red from the heat. She shook her head as the warmth made her skin go numb. Why was she thinking about him? It was just a crush, love at first sight was always bullshit, and the whole world knew it! Alyssa turned off her shower, drying her hair with her towel and drying her body, putting on her silk, pale pink robe.
She had grabbed her painting that she messed up horribly on, staring at the smudges, giving her thoughts of the hitman Reborn. Alyssa hissed and growled, throwing the painting at the doorway to her bedroom, gripping her head.
"Someone has temperamental issues." She heard the sphinxlike voice that was deep and gave her chills. She jumped up, turning around to see the familiar fedora-wearing man, holding the painting.
"Get out, Reborn." She didn't want to see him, she kept telling herself that, but she did want to see him. She wanted to hug him, to take in his scent, to embrace the feeling of comfort, to embrace the feeling of someone always being there, unlike her mother, though she loved Alyssa dearly.
"You know, if you haven't freaked out earlier, this painting would've been worth more than 1OO grand?" He said in a matter of fact tone, closing the door and placing the painting up against the door, approaching Alyssa who stood in place.
"What's it to you? What meaning does it have to you?" She couldn't help but ask.
"I really don't know if it has meaning to me, all I know is that it was painted by the most fragile and dazzling person to ever walk this land." He said, seducing her, swooning her, making her blush. Alyssa was never so easy, though he had gotten to her, and she had gotten to him. He tried shaking it off because love was overrated, it was supposed to bloom, not happen right on the spot!
"Really? Are you sure about that, Reborn?" She asked as he stood close to her.
"As sure as this." He said, placing a soft kiss onto her lips, making her melt, to fall under his spell, she took the bait, though this was no hunt or trick. The kiss formed into something soft and passionate, but switched to something rougher and slightly more aggressive, like a dominance battle. The kiss was building up something in them, something that was slowly unfurling.
And so the relationship blossomed into something; a loving relationship filled with chemistry between the hitman and the daughter of a murderous mobster. Yeah, life was getting better.