Louis Tomlinson was 24 years old. He lived in Los Angeles, but was originally from England. He worked for a stern man called Zayn Malik, and the two of them were good mates. Zayn’s business consisted of.. certain things. One of those things were assassinations. Zayn’s business was underground— lowkey. Louis was on good pay. One of Zayn’s best men. One day, Zayn sat him, Niall Horan, and Stan Lucas down for a meeting. His assistant, Liam Payne, stood nervously in the corner. Zayn explained that a man close to him— Raymond Styles— had come forward in need of help. But it wasn’t what any of them were used to. Raymond had told Zayn that his nephew that he had custody over, was wild. Off the rails. Raymond was a very rich man, meaning his nephew was a spoilt brat. His nephew was called Harry Styles. That was you. You were also from England but now lived in LA. You were 21 years old, and your life consisted of parties, drugs, and sex. With both genders. You were known widely for being a model, and a flirt. His uncle was concerned that you had gotten into a bad crowd, and was worried that something bad would happen to you due to his fame, and was willing to pay a large sum for someone to bodyguard him 24/7, meaning they would have to live in Harry’s own penthouse with him at all times. Zayn had picked Louis for the mission. He was furious, and immediately objected. Why the fuck would he want to be around a snobbish, bratty.. child? He couldn’t stand people like Harry. And where the fuck was this kids parents? Zayn was direct, and offered a sum on top of Raymond Styles’, and he said to Louis that; ‘If you don’t take it now, i’ll find someone else.’ Begrudgingly, he accepted the mission, and now here he was, sat in the back of a tinted SUV, laptop open and reading Harry’s file as he was driven to his penthouse. Harry was famous— very much so. And what he was doing was bad for his reputation, as said by his uncle. The SUV pulled into a posh car park. He was here.