[ I apologise for not explaining this in the first place but the first chapter is more of a blurb-type summary. This is my first story here so I'm not used to how everything works. OTL ]
5 Years ago.
A shriek was let out as a heavy fist pounded the table, "Fuck!" yelled an outraged voice, more than enough aggression was audible in the voice of the two blonde's father—he as brunette unlike their gentle mother, but she'd been gone for a long time—he was stoned again, full of drugs and probable alcohol a sick and twisted combination.
Every time he got like this, it was horrendous. Matthew held his younger brother close, not only for his protection but his own. Each other's security was all they had since that one fatal day, the car crash that sent their life reeling out of control, their antagonised Father driven to pure insanity.
To an extent neither of the boys could blame him, they couldn't. He'd done well to strive through the years when Erin—The mother of the two and a splendid wife—was still alive. The family had gone through so much strife and troublesome times; Debt, gambling, crime, death, betrayal , violence and much more.
Despite all the grief they had encountered their Mother stayed cheery, when Alfred thought about it he could still see those soft violet eyes of hers, particularly when he looked into his Brother's eyes, why he even had her accent. A delicate Canadian accent that filtrated through your ears like a pleasant dream, his mother's voice always soothed him, sending away the tears so his blankets remained dry and untarnished.
Back then with their Father no one was there to stop the Brother's tears, they only had each other to nestle into as they cried themselves to sleep. The two soon grew sick of the gruelling affairs with their father and ran away, on their first attempt being caught. They were sent to a foster home, the truth soon revealed that – that fatherly figure of the two northern American's had lost custody.
So many times they escaped the grounds of that home, scared for their Daddy they had left behind. Hoping he was coping, that in losing them he wasn't struggling to carry on. They relied on the thought of him carrying on as if it came as an automatic motion. They even had hopes that he would be discarding the drugs, they were wrong, oh-so-wrong.
That was when it began;
That very day they ran away from the foster home for the seventh, and what they vowed to be the last time. That was when they saw a murder right before their eyes. A man looming over a pleading figure, vulgar, impotent whining; it got him nowhere. The man's brain where soon decorating the wall, coating them in a thick coat of cranium gunk. Back then such a sight was sickening. Time stood still as the only outline left in motion heading in their direction, leading them away with threats and coaxing words.
Taking them to their new life, to train them.
Little did the duo know but they would be growing up as lethal assassins, leading a life which different a vast amount to the one they lead before that foster home, before their mother died, and a drunkard of a father hassled them with his shenanigans.