Hello people! Welcome to my twisted stories! Before I allow you a peak, I ask that you read these next notes:

First off, this is a sequel part to Snake, which is part I of my Assassins series. HOWEVER, it does not mean that you have to read it. In fact, I'll be trying to summurize what happened in their in here. That way, you know the crucial parts. If you have the time, I wouldn't mind if you read the other three stories (titles and order are somewhere in my bio). But, like I said, if you don't want to, don't.

Second of all, if you saw the summary, there is mention of a corresponding story that I'm posting at the same time (in this case, it's Lying Truths). There is a reason why they are not combinded into one story: each brother gets a specific story. Reasons for that are, while there are some scenes that will be the same, each brother has their own perspective in it. As in, if Frank is enjoying something, Joe might be getting really sick. Also, there are a lot of times where they are split up and have different experiences. Each experience and perspective are there own and I feel should not be mashed together. Therefore, the split. You can read each separatly, just know that there are different bits of info in one that is not in the other, like conversations or secrets, and I will post a chapter to each at the same time. So expect long delays.

Finally, I do not own the Hardy Boys. With things like this fanfic, I've been told it's for a good reason.

So, come and enter Joe's story and enjoy!

He entered the house after the older man, trying to keep his thoughts to himself. A wrong word and he would mess everything up. Once again in his life, the young man wished that he possessed his brother's confidence and calmness. Even if it was an illusion to himself, he figured he would have felt much better about tonight.

However, as he had known for years, he could not lie, even to himself. That ability had been erased years ago, and it was to be a permanent disappearance.

"So, are you working on a case?" his host asked as he was led into the kitchen.

Something inside of him sighed. He was chosen to deal with this man because he spoke in truths, which was a better way to go. After all, unlike the unlucky one who had to deal with Lies, this man knew of the current state of the family. Twisted truths went farther than forced lies.

"You can call it that." It was technically a mission to extort information from a target before killing him, but that was minor details. The use of the word "case" summed it up very nicely.

"What exactly do you need to know from me, Joe?"

Now he felt like grimmacing when he heard the name. At least he was schooled enough to keep his expressions in checked. Deciding to ignore the name, the young man replied with some of the facts. "My brother and I lost our house to an explosion. We pretty much lost all contact with our father after that. We're still trying to track him down."

The older man, for his part, managed to appear worried on the outside with some attempt at what one would guess as pity. However, if the young man compared it to the way his brother could pull such things off, it was no contest of who was better.

"That's terrible. What about Laura?"

He wasn't able to stop the frown or the sadness in his eyes at the mention of his mother. If she hadn't told him what she did seven years ago, he was sure that he would have ran out of the house (or at least the room) instead of following through. He had promised her to do that much, after all.

"She's gone." With that, he slipped the dagger out of the sheath that was tucked within the waistband of his jeans and presses the blade into the man's stomach.

His host tried to sream, but he was not a top Assassin member for nothing. With his free hand, he muffled the cries while using his body's weight to subdue the man against the countertop.

As the target slipped down, the killer allowed himself a smirk. Taking out a small glass vial, he backed up just enough so the dying man could see his whole face.

"Let's get on with this, shall we? You have been helping the Network dig up things about the Assassins. And not just the past ones that we got the name from. In fact, you happened to be actively securing information about this generation. Almost killed Whisper with one of your stupid investigations. She told me to get back at you, by the way."

The man just stared at the Assassin, as if he wasn't able to comprehend what was just said to him.

"Oh, and about calling me Joe during this time we get to spend together? I would prefer that you use my real name. It's not legally recognized, but I like it a lot better."

This earned him a glare.

"Well, since you obviously don't know what it is, I'll tell you." He cleared his throat in a dramatic way to ensure that the suffering would drag on for a bit. "It's Truthful Rook. Or just Truth for short."

This got him the man's full attention. Of course, the killer wasn't at all surprised at the sudden shock that graced the victim's face. Truthful Rook was a top Assassin member who could have been easily identified as the murderer in a few dozen cases, and loosely tied to quite a few more. Joseph Hardy was only known to be on the Assassins for unknown reasons. A connection between such figures would no doubt boggle the minds of the psychologists the Network had employed.

"So you have heard of me! Good. So you should realize who my brother and I have tortured. And yes, for future reference, my brother is Lying Rook."

If possible, the dying man pales further. Truth felt like frowning because of it. Once again, Lies had out shone him in the torture department as well as in messy deaths (when he actually felt like being messy, which was becoming more and more often). Not that he had expected any different, but it was still something he had to live with.

It was still fun to attempt to compete, however.

"So, where would you like to start?"

7 Years Ago

Joe Hardy slipped into his brother's room quietly, making sure not to wake Frank up. Or interrupt his meditation/thinking period. He couldn't tell the difference sometimes, and was beginning to suspect they were merging into the same thing where it concerned his brother.

Things have changed, and if was honest with himself (as he has been for the past few months), they were not the best things to happen to the family.

The blond could not pick a moment where the downward descent into this madness began. It was noticeable when he prevented Frank's suicide by threatening his own. His mind fell back into the darkened room that he had entered that fateful night a few years ago. The cold, metallic shine of the knife against the moonlight was still haunting him. But he had been quite serious about dying alongside his brother then. He always had been, always will be.

Frank's supposed death had hit him very hard. It was harder still when Joe found out his brother had not only faked his death, but had developed a split personality that had easily killed corrupt ATAC people. The word that Snake (as the personality had dubbed himself) had used was "cleansing" which Joe could not blame him for. Those vile people had gone so far to not only steal, but to rape and kill the teenage agents at their whim.

It had taken longer still to join his brother in his work of killing men. He understood, logically, the security issues capturing these men with one of the greatest secrets of crime fighting, not to mention the strain of men in the FBI since a new generation of the Assassins had popped up and started killing. But to take a man's life with his own hands…

Somehow, the sickness that snuck into his stomach melted away after time.

He then proceeded to fake his own death while Jackie (another girl dragged into a program that made Frank snap in the first place) kidnapped Laura Hardy, which was actually a ruse while placing her under protection. Fenton…

Fenton, after all that had been explained, still hated all of the children.

He hated Frank and Jackie for agreeing to try the training program that would teach them about weapons. He hated Frank when it turned out he was becoming a killer.

Fenton hated Frank for supposedly dragging Joe into the other side of justice.

If someone told the man that his neglect for his children's emotional well being that a father was supposed to fill by paying more attention to his private eye work, he would shift the blame onto Laura or Frank and Joe themselves. Heaven forbid something trivial like a family ruin his reputation, even after he retired.

Joe slid against the wall until he was sitting on the floor. He admitted to himself that it could have been partly a misunderstanding between them. After all, what father wouldn't be upset to know that his star children had stolen lives at the age of fifteen and sixteen? But damn him to hell if he wasn't going to understand his indirect push into such a position.

"I care for him. Joe means nothing to me."

Frank's words washed over him. Joe couldn't help but crack a grin at the words. While Joe had taken it upon himself to only speak the truth (and abandoning even sarcasm in favor of half truths and twisted perceptions that fitted the situations), Frank had become addicted to lying all that he could. Of course, he couldn't lie every single second that he wanted to, but he was definitely trying to get in every lie he could.

"Love you too," the blond said back to complete the morning ritual. He didn't bother questioning who the "him" was referring to. He already knew. "Let's get breakfast. We have to finish fixing up the computer things later."

"I'm starving." Frank's hollow laughter made Joe frown. It worried him sometimes, especially when it indicated…

"How the hell were you able to sneak a revolver into here without someone else finding out-"

"I haven't touched one since we've gotten here, Joe. What are you trying to imply?"

"That you're a completely different person than who you were before this mess happened." Joe sighed and, using the wall as leverage, got up. Thoughts skidded across his mind as he tried to recall the teenager that Frank had been before he became a killer. However, those memories were fading and those that he did remember didn't seem to match his brother at all. At least, they didn't match any more. "You're still my brother and I love you."

"You were never my brother."

The blond rolled his eyes. "I'll let Jackie deal with you with her sarcasm later." Walking to the door, he slipped out. He walked past his mother, who was heading for Frank's door to probably watch his actions. Fenton had done the same with a criticizing eye, but Laura was concerned with their well being. She didn't judge as hard, despite the pain that she visibly revealed when they did think about it.

Joe knew the pain she would feel when she saw Frank playing Russian roulette with the revolver that Snake had left. He had been in the same position quite a few times, and the pain had only begun to dull.

He guessed he should be thankful for the recent changes. The move that ATAC had forced them into due to the faked deaths of Frank, Jackie, and Joe (it would be too much compromise to security for the moment to reveal that they were alive). It took time to create records of faked movements, so what were another few months? Of course, they had realized what was more months could be longer due to more internal issues that still had to be swept up (Jackie added that it would probably go under the rug) and figured a complete move might be beneficial to the family.

Joe refused to admit that it would help. After all, he had saw and heard what his father said about them. And, if it was true that old habits die really hard, it would probably take the rest of their lives for him to change this attitude.

He met Jackie in the kitchen. The adopted sister was scanning through the papers for some unknown article. If the teenage boy had to guess, it was probably something to do with medical discoveries or updates. The girl wasn't intelligent in biochemistry for nothing.

She didn't look up. Instead, while scanning one piece with her fingers, she asked, "What makes this Frank like your past Frank?"

He groaned. Jackie was one of the few people to ask such questions this early in the morning. The other person was his brother. "Did you hear me or something? At the volume we were speaking at, you couldn't unless you snuck up…"

"I didn't." Her dark eyes looked into his blue ones, lightly piercing his thoughts. "I'm just curious."

"You and your riddles," Joe muttered. "Fine." He took the seat opposite of hers, folded his hands, and rested his head on them. Despite his dramatics, however, he had his answer quite easily stored within his mind. After all, he had asked himself the same question over and over before he fell asleep for nights on end. "No matter what, Frank's willing to do anything for my life."

"Hm." She went back to her article. Joe got up to get the cereal box that sat on the counter. It wasn't his favorite, but he would tolerate it this morning-

"Did you think about the Assassins offer? And how different we would be right now?"

His head shot up to make sure his father wasn't walking down the steps to hear the words. After all, he was one of the people to take the original group down and still held a grudge against them for all the deceitful things they had done. Another generation would probably still bring the same results. "I thought and imagined. I can't help it. But it's a standing offer. We could easily join them whenever we want."

"But would we want to? That's what separates desire from fact."

"We can desire all we want. But fact is, we'll be here for a bit." Looking at her face and reading none of her emotions, Joe sighed in defeat. "I'm waiting for that moment."

"Which moment?"

"I… Fenton Hardy is still my father. I never resented him as much as Frank did, if you want the truth. I still care."

"Genetically, he'll always be your father. But emotionally, he's what? An acquaintance that was once a friend?"

"One that you hope would realize what went wrong and willing to fix it. I'm just waiting for that defining moment."

"What if it never comes?"

"Then I spent enough time reflecting my life and I have to hurry to catch up and learn."

"So you like what you considered."

It wasn't a question, but Joe answered anyways.

"Yes."

Poor Joe... Then again, considering it's me writing this... hm...