Show me how to lie, you're getting better all the time

Turning all against one is an art that's hard to teach

The soft melody of a piano drifted, slithered slowly and gently between the voices of the guests. Men and women mixed harmoniously in the sea of accents, tones and pitches of international provenance. From warm and energetic Latino voices that sang their words in tunes of exotic worlds and the harsh Germanic sounds from cold nations of the north to the clipped syllables of Asia and the undecipherable softness of Slavic languages, so many people were present that each part of the world was represented. The long gowns of women trailed on the shining marble floor, some glinting with a thousand diamonds, others gleaming softly with the tones and hues of foreign materials. Amuse-bouches and drinks circled around the room as people chatted happily and carelessly. Their caution was thrown to the wind as they spoke of insignificant things, but there was always the underlying fear of being stabbed in the back by another. They all seemed happy and free, but were bound by their money and their position. The rich and the powerful were gathered in the same place, a gathering of those who were considered clean, exemplary and beautiful.

Some knew better.

Blue eyes scanned the room, assessing the situation. There were some he could take care of immediately, easily and swiftly, but he knew that was not why he was there tonight. As he shifted, his iron-rimmed glasses glinted in the bright lights illuminating the gala, giving them a flash of danger for a fraction of a second. Turning to order another Martini, his eyes never left the centre of the room. Not that there was anything or anyone interesting there, but it was where something would happen, if something were to happen. He had caught the attention of a number of high ladies from the room as his stature was apparent, but so was everyone else's. He smirked as a young woman caught his eye and winked softly and suggestively. It was a distraction, one that he could not allow himself to drift into. He was the new arrival, the rich heir of an unimaginably wealthy old billionaire. Or that's who he was supposed to be, that's who he was impersonating, who his character was for the night. Few knew his real identity, and he knew that those who did were far, far away, either deep under the ground in a wooden coffin, in a great deal of agony, or unable to retell the story they had found, dug up. The blue-eyed man, as far as those present knew, was just one of them, another rich kid with nothing better to do than waste his life and money on such frivolity as this. But as far as everyone else outside of here knew, he was a ghost, a man of different names, one who had forever vanished and never come back.

There was only one person who was allowed to know the truth, who knew the truth, and knew the entire story, and that was his boss. Neither had seen the other man, ever. But the man knew it all, and their motives and objectives were basically the same. And Alfred knew the story of everyone in the room.

'Inherited all of his mother's money when she passed away years before, natural death.'

'Parents own a number of multinational companies, both died last year under suspicious circumstances - all charges were dropped suddenly, no explanation given.'

He could go on forever, but he didn't need to. There was one person he was currently looking for, whom he had not yet found.

A hand slid into the pocket of the well-tailored jacket he was wearing, feeling for the small pill that was there. As he found it, he felt reassured and took his hand out from his pocket and moved to take hold of his drink. He swirled it around the glass for a bit before taking a sip as he scanned the room again - when his eyes caught a flash of what he wanted to see. Violet eyes had not yet seen him, but they were unmistakable to the American. He excused himself as he walked away from the bar and another woman that had attempted to latch herself to him. It was a cold world, that of the rich and the dirty, where nothing else mattered except public appearance and the content of a bank account. He blended into the crowd perfectly, finding it easy to go unnoticed as he noticed what was happening. The violet-eyed man he was observing went towards a group of people, shaking hands and grinning broadly with false humour. Alfred then stood straight and directed himself towards the violet-eyed man, who was chatting with the group of people. Alfred remained to the side, as if there to look at the crowd and not observe a target. When the group of people left, and the man was left alone, Alfred approached him carefully. It had so far been so simple - find a target, lock, and approach.

"This party's a bore, in my opinion," Alfred started, not really looking at the other man, but clearly talking to him. The other man looked at him for a moment, before deeming it safe to answer.

"I'd have to agree with you there," he countered.

Alfred turned to the other man, and extended his hand. "Name's Alexander Hill. Nice to meet you."

The other nodded slightly. "Matthew Williams, pleasure." They shook hands, it was swift, emotionless, polite, meaningless.

Alfred pasted a look of thought onto his young features. "Williams, as in the CEO of Williamtech, Inc.?" As the other nodded, Alfred looked surprised. "Wow, I'm personally a fan of your Aerial line. I travel a lot, and it makes it a lot easier when my electronics don't take all of my suitcase space," Alfred laughed.

Matthew smiled. "I do consider that maybe our best product line, so far." To Alfred, the Canadian seemed slightly shy, and proceeding with care. As he directed the conversation, he was carefully avoiding any topics he thought would be dangerous for him or knew his target would dislike or be suspicious of. They then went towards the bar to get new drinks after a while. Their conversation was smooth, normal, safe. As they reached the bar, they ordered new drinks. A man came to greet Matthew as their new drinks came. Alfred saw his opportunity, and slipped the contents of the pill into the other's drink. He smiled innocently as Matthew took a sip, and continued with their conversation. Moments of weakness were always there, a moment when they weren't looking, a moment when even the most accomplished thief could be taken unawares. And Alfred had found it, so simply.

This is all just too easy, he thought when Matthew began to feel 'ill', 'drowsy' and 'claustrophobic'. Alfred, as the nice gentleman he was, led the Canadian man to a side room before the other collapsed, unconscious. Alfred locked the door and set to work.

"With a thousand lies and a good disguise

Hit 'em right between the eyes."

Alfred sat on a chair, sipping another Martini as he looked at Matthew. The other had first shouted obscenities at the American, before demanding his release and afterwards beginning to ask the important questions.

"Who exactly are you, Mr. Hill?" Matthew snarled, attempting to break out of the bonds holding his hands together behind his back. Both could see there was no chance of that happening, so Alfred sat idly while Matthew struggled.

"Thought you'd be cleverer than that, Williams, especially considering that you hired me. I'm surprised you haven't even figured out my name's not really Hill." Alfred grinned. "I think you'd know me by the name Alfred F. Jones, no?" The Canadian's eyes widened slightly. Alfred continued. "See, what you don't know, is that I have people in different places. Not my people, per se, but people who tell me things for the right price. And one thing I found out was that it was you who suddenly decided to have my partner assassinated."

The other huffed. "Honestly, Jones, I've had so many people killed, through your hands and others', that you wouldn't expect me to remember every single one-"

"I'm sure you'll remember this one, though. Ivan Braginsky, Russian man. Ex-KGB, now involved in many things. Mainly known in the world at large for the multitude of companies he owns, but we both know he did much more than that. Black market, laundering, trafficking - especially weapons, that's what he was the best at." Alfred took out the gun he had hidden into the shoulder holster under his jacket. He dug into an inside pocket of the same jacket, pulling out a suppressor and screwing it to the gun.

Matthew sneered at him. "Well, so what? What was he to you? He threatened me on one too man occasions, so he got what he deserved. It's not like he was anyone important to you."

"Really?" Alfred sounded interested. "I'm actually, honestly, curious, about where you got that information from? Because I had the idea you and I knew everything about each other, don't we? And I had the idea that you knew perfectly well that I was in love with him, no? Frankly, your information sounds just off, you should revise your sources." Alfred paused for a second. "Hold on... Who is your source? It must be Arthur, because-"

"How the hell do you know Arthur?" Matthew spat. Alfred grinned a wolfish grin.

"You and I both know that man doesn't care about sides, about who he works for, he cares only about what he gets out of it. I know he's told you things, and that one of the things he told you about was Ivan - when you paid the right price. But when I paid just that same price, guess who he told me about?" Matthew furrowed his brows. "Oh, come on, I know you know this... Should I help you?" Alfred sighed. "He died of a cardiac arrest, poor man... Arthur seemed to have something personal against Francis, he actually gave me the information a bit cheaper, and also gave me the means to - the best and quickest way and least suspicious. An empty syringe can do wonders, can't it?" Alfred smiled wickedly as Matthew's eyes lit up.

"You bastard!" He shouted. Lucky for Alfred no-one on the outside could hear them, the music and voices were just too much of a cover in addition to the near-soundproof walls.

"Oh, come on, you're such a hypocrite. When something happens to someone else's lover, that's no problem of yours - but when something happens to you, it's supposed to be the biggest deal in the world? Nope, doesn't work that way, boss. But see, my problem is that yeah, I felt like I had damaged you in some way. It didn't hurt me one bit to do it, not that killing anyone affects me anymore. I thought it was over and done with. But when I found out a couple of more things, that just did it for me. You were back on your feet in no time, you were running your business full-on once more, you were doing just fine, and this was all before I knew who your double identity really was. I knew you were shady to some degree, but that you had hired me after you had Ivan killed... That was it for me. See, my sources are very reliable, because I'm not relying on two or three people. Everyone I know has links everywhere, I'm really lucky that I met Ivan - that was a hell of a help."

Alfred sighed wistfully. Matthew seemed torn between anger, furor, fear and panic. His violet eyes would have burnt holes into Alfred. Alfred simply continued on as he aimed the gun at different places in the room. "But back to the story. I didn't feel I'd done enough. But now I have my opportunity, and I'll take it."

"Who hired you this time?"

"I'm a hit man, sure," Alfred snorted. "This is my job - but whether I do it for profit or not, that's my problem to worry about. And this time, I do it for personal profit." Alfred looked straight into Matthew's eyes. Now, there was no fear in them, just unadulterated anger. "Oh - one more thing. Did you know that we're half-brothers?" Alfred asked.

"Yes, of course I fucking knew!" Matthew hissed. "Why do you think I'd hire you otherwise? Before you were with me, you did some random jobs here and there," he explained, his eyes burning with a fire of hate. "I admit, you were quite known, because you were skilled. But see, I was wondering when you'd find out. I knew since the beginning, but I wanted to first see who you were. Not that we ever ended up meeting, did we?"

"No, because I took care of that, didn't I? Everyone in this business knows no-one can be trusted, and that includes even where you get the money."

"You're more inhumane than I thought - you don't care about anyone, do you? You just go and do the job, never think about it again," Matthew scoffed, derision apparent on his face.

"No, see, I do care about some people. I've just learnt how to separate my personal life and my work. And you belong to the category of work." Alfred smirked. "This feels straight out of a movie or something, no?" Then he frowned slightly. "Actually, in movies, you'd usually have some sort of brilliant ending, with maybe the good guy escaping, or the two long-lost brothers finding each other, making up and being happy. But in your story, I'm also the antagonist. And because this isn't a movie..."

Alfred fired the gun, the shot silenced by the suppressor, Matthew's lifeless body crumbling onto the floor like a marionette whose strings were cut. Alfred looked at the smoking gun and began separating the silencer, and placing everything back to where it belonged. He looked at the dead body, whose blood was quickly crimsoning the carpet it was on. He didn't touch it as he began walking away.

"The good guy doesn't always win."

As you walk away nothing more to say

See the lightning in your eyes - see 'em running for their lives

A/N: Here's a little one-shot I had an idea for. I'm updating a lot these days, but I guess that's also because I write and edit perhaps a bit faster than I used to (it took me months to edit something and post it, I've sort of decided not to edit things for three months anymore). For those who have read/are reading/are following Mutual Assured Destruction, I have most certainly not given up on that, I'm just working on the next chapter. A sort of mini-block, I have some things where I'm stuck and I can't get past them. Fret not, I will, and the next chapter will be up at some point. Just a fair warning, though, my updates/posts will get scarcer for a while - especially when May hits - because I'll have my IGCSEs and those turned out to be a hell of a lot more work than I thought at first. But enough rambling, here was just a thing I wrote because I can, and I wanted to write something with Matthew in it. My stories seem to very often go in the direction of death and such - but hey, why not? The lyrics were from the song "You're Gonna Go Far, Kid" by The Offspring.

Now I must bid you farewell, and until next time!