Sexuality

Currently believes he’s straight, actually bisexual

The rain pattered softly against the glass door leading out to the balcony. Every so often the sun's rays found their way through the gaps between the roiling gray clouds, only to disappear a few moments later as the storm pushed on relentlessly.

Inside the dimly-lit apartment, Kieran sat slumped in a chair at the uneven kitchen table. His blades were laid in neat rows on the surface before him; occasionally he stretched out a hand and ran his fingers delicately over their handles. He counted them silently over and over, as if they would disappear suddenly.

The apartment was awful, honestly. The paint on the walls was full of cracks and bare spots, dark splotches that looked suspiciously like black mold dotted every corner, and half of the light switches were totally useless. It was located above a dive bar, and the sound of voices and smell of cheap alcohol permeated the thin floors and windows easily. The bed occupied its own room, but the kitchen, living room, and dining area were all crammed into the same space. He'd barely been able to open the fridge door without knocking into the cabinets across from it. He hadn't spent very long investigating the bedroom; he didn't need to sleep here, after all.

There were signs that someone had lived in this place somewhat recently. The fridge contained a jug of milk and a few takeout containers that looked and smelled like they hadn't gone bad quite yet. A few small potted plants were scattered through the apartment, their leaves and stems just beginning to wither and brown. Kieran had carefully poured a bit of his water into each one.

He shoved his chair back with a screech and crossed to where he'd dumped his duffel bag by the door. He pawed through its contents until he found the slim black folder that had been pressed into his hands during his departure. He chose the choice as he returned, so as to not disturb his meticulous arrangement of his blades. The distinctive odor of urine wafted into the air as he sat down, and he wrinkled his nose.

S. Baines. The name was printed neatly on the cover of the folder in glossy letters that caught the dim light streaming through the windows. He'd already read the thing front to back at least four times, but it couldn't hurt to glance over it one last time.

Baines was a businessman who had allegedly earned his fortune through inheritance and a series of shady promotions after his predecessors suddenly became indisposed. The folder included several sheafs of paper containing photos of Baines. Kieran would have been hard-pressed to pick him out of a crowd if he hadn't been analyzing these pictures so intently. He was an incredibly unremarkable-looking man of average height with rapidly graying dark hair. The folder told him that Baines always traveled with security, but refused to allow them to accompany him into meetings with his beneficiaries. Some courtesy thing or something.

That was where Kieran entered the picture. Nathaira had been gathering surveillance on Baines for months, and he usually entered the stairwells or elevators delivering him to these meetings alone. There were two options: Kieran could either pose as an employee in the office where the meeting would be held and enter the elevator with Baines, or he would have to time Baines's entrance into the elevator perfectly so he could get onto its roof and take him out through its ceiling. He very much preferred the first plan. Normally they would have sent him to lurk around in Baines's favorite bars or restaurants, strike up a conversation when he eventually showed up, buy him a drink or two, convince him to leave, and then take him out in some abandoned alleyway with no witnesses. His bosses had told him bluntly that this would be useless; even if Baines miraculously left his security detail at home, he was far too intelligent to take the bait.

The sky had noticeably darkened, and Kieran checked his watch. 8pm. Baines's meeting was at 9, but he wanted to get to the building early and scope it out. He tucked the folder back into his bag and ensured that all his other belongings were packed. After the kill, he would need to grab his things and get out as fast as he could. Then he turned to the knives still spread across the table and got to work.

Five tucked into the belt hidden under his shirt. Three buckled into the harness stretching across his upper back. One strapped to each thigh, and one tucked into each of his boots. The last one slid into a compartment hidden in the sole of his boot. He'd never had to wrangle that one out, and he hoped today wouldn't be that day.

Once he emerged onto the sidewalk, he tugged on his jacket to hide any suspicious lumps in his clothing caused by his blades. The rain had stopped, and the clouds were beginning to break up, though the setting sun hadn't emerged quite yet. The office building was located only a block from the dingy little apartment.

Kieran kept his eyes peeled as he walked. He wouldn't put it past Nathaira to send out some of their other assassins on this job without telling him. Baines was a donor for several of their top rivals, and they desperately needed him gone. All he spotted were heaps of garbage along the road and suspicious-looking alleys blocked off with chain link fencing.

The office building became apparent as soon as he turned the corner. It towered above the rest of the buildings in its district; the rapidly disappearing rainclouds brushed against its top floors. The building belonged to some massive tech company, Kieran remembered as he drew closer. The entire building was constructed from some sort of smooth, flawless black stone. The lower floors had fewer windows than their heigher counterparts, but the panes he could see looked strangely metallic. When he approached one, he saw only his reflection instead of the inside of the building. If he had to guess, he'd wager that the employees had a clear view of the sidewalk and its patrons, but none of the passerby could see inside.

The entrance to the building was a massive revolving door. It didn't move the first time Kieran pushed it; he had to shove it as hard as he could with his shoulder to get it to creak open even an inch. The interior was eerily minimalistic. The walls were the same black material as the outside of the building, and the floor was made of spotless white marble. The room was practically empty, but Kieran spotted a receptionist's desk against the far wall. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and strode forward.

Leon Czajka sat on a heavy box in the cramped room that had been allotted to Locust. A sleek black umbrella leaned against the wall beside him, streaked darker with droplets of water. Located in the back of an urban diner, noise from the neighbouring rooms bled out into the glorified storage closet he had been stationed in. Leon heaved a deep sigh. He was hoping for a more…glamorous – or the very least comfortable, he could settle for comfortable – venue then what was provided, but he supposed he would make do. It couldn’t be that long until one of his siblings at Locust showed up, Right? Right? It had been two hours at this point since any sort of contact with his organization, he was beginning to worry he would be late for his mark’s meeting.

In those two hours though, he had plenty of time to perfect his plan. He would pose as security for the building itself, and quickly take down S. Baines via firearm from any concealed location he could find in the few moments he would be exposed without guards close enough to react. making his escape whilst all the employees were distracted by panic. Issue being however, there was no way whatsoever he was getting a rifle for this. Too big to conceal, too heavy to carry around with ease, just generally impossible for this specific target. He’d have to make do with something smaller, while still finding a way to take him down at a safe distance. Taking him out from outside through a window was not an option, that much had been reported on by his siblings already. They had scouted the exterior, but were unable to find an opening to get inside. Mother had somehow been able to collect information on Baines' plans and habits though, not like Leon had any understanding of her methods. A lot of this operation would be unpredictable to him. He clenched his jaw at the thought. Why choose him of all people for such a task?

As he pondered anxiously, the door cracked open.

“Ah, Lee,” said a familiar voice laced with barely stifled laughter, “This is the new rendezvous point for this district? Really?”

Lucy Kawahara – his junior by five years in Locust – had quickly shut the door behind her, wincing when it made a less than subtle creak.

“I thought we at least had more class than this..” Muttered Leon sheepishly.

“It’s certainly the least obvious choice, perhaps that was the intention,” Lucy could only shrug in response.

“What took you so long anyway, Lucy? It’s been two hours, and I was told to leave work early for this..my shift would’ve already been over.”

“I wasn’t the one supposed to be Mother’s little carrier pigeon today. It was intended to be Dante, but apparently he doesn’t want to see you right now. My guess is that you scared him off on your last mission together.”

“....Right, then…” Leon’s heart sank a little.

“Never mind that. You already have all the information you need on the target, so Mother says at least. Perfect infiltration mission for you, I’d say,” Lucy said with a smirk, “I bet you’re the spitting image of the first thing that comes to people’s minds when they think of guards for extravagant buildings like that.”

Leon was not quite sure how to take that, he crossed his arms with a disgruntled huff.

“Just hand over my gun already.”

Leon impatiently extended his hand. Lucy obliged and – albeit begrudgingly due to his attitude – handed over the pistol she had been keeping concealed in her coat’s inner pocket.

“I’m assuming you have a blade concealed somewhere on you. I’m also assuming I don’t have to tell you where the drop-off point for this gun is, and what the consequences are if you don’t return it in a timely manner are,” She spoke with a drawl, ending it off with a light sigh. “I won’t patronize you.”

“Obviously,” He glanced away briefly.

Leon slipped the gun into the hidden compartment of his suit jacket. He detested having anything between him and his firearm, but while out in the open he had to admit it would be unwise to allow anyone to see. He kept his backup weapon – a swiss army knife – attached to his forearm underneath his right sleeve.

“...Thank you, Lucy,” His words came out awkwardly, but he felt weird just leaving without a word.

He turned around to leave, grabbing his umbrella on the way out, but she swiftly grasped his arm. Dumbfounded and speechless, Leon turned right back around to face her.

“Don’t screw this up, Lee,” Lucy muttered, staring him dead in the eyes. “This isn’t just any target. He’s got eyes on him. In that building, in the media, by the people he sponsors…everywhere. I know this isn’t the usual sort of mark Mother assigns you, but one slip up, and you’re dead meat. You have to be perfect, got that?”

“I...” Leon’s voice trailed off, taking a moment to recover his composure, “...I know.”

“Good,” She responded plainly. “Now go. Quickly.”

Lucy let go of his arm. Leon clenched his jaw once more and stepped out. The diner had cleared out somewhat, most who still remained were finishing the remainder of their evening dinners. They were too distracted by their own conversations to pay Leon any mind, so he slipped out without a word. Raindrops pitter-pattered throughout the deserted street, landing on his head and making him shiver. He wasted no time opening his umbrella, he could already feel his hair getting soaked. The emptiness of it all was to his liking at least. Busy roads and waves of people only served to bring him discomfort. He checked the time on his phone, 7:24. He supposed he wouldn’t be late after all. It would be approximately a 45 minute walk from where he stood. He’d call a taxi, but he’d rather not draw any unwanted attention to himself. He could walk there himself perfectly fine anyway, would save him some cash too. He might as well start walking now to make sure he’d be punctual. It would also give him time to build up a bit of trust, and also take a good look of the interior for himself. There were risks too, more time in the building meant more time to be found out. That, however, was a gamble Leon was willing to take.

At 8:10, Leon arrived at the office. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of it. The towering construct loomed over him, making him feel small in comparison. It stuck out like a sore thumb, sleek and modern. It was exactly how his coworkers had described, raidating an oppressive atmosphere throughout the surrounding area. The rain had stopped on the way there, at least. He had ditched his umbrella in a nondescript location at the soonest opportunity, he figured he'd go back for it later. He shook his head sharply, making his way inside without further hesitation.

Kieran strode across the floor of the foyer, boots clicking against the marble and a confident smile plastered across his face. The receptionist was engrossed in whatever was displayed on his computer screen, and he jumped as Kieran approached and tapped his palms against the desk.

He flashed his most apologetic smile. "Hey, I'm so sorry, I left my key card upstairs and only realized once I got home. Would you mind buzzing me in?"

The receptionist gazed at him suspiciously. "I don't recognize you."

"Well, uh, I work on 12." Kieran leaned in conspiratorially and pretended to wet his lips in concern. "We're supposed to come in through the back, but since I don't have my card..."

The receptionist's eyes widened slightly; Kieran knew that would do the trick. The building had not had any vacant floors open when he'd researched their website, but there was no information available on who rented the 12th floor. Kieran assumed it was Baines or someone associated with him, but he doubted that the lower-level employees were made aware of that. They were likely just told that what happened on the 12th floor was not meant for the public to know.

"Of course," the receptionist said hurriedly, and tapped a few keys on his laptop. There was a loud beep, and the gate in front of the elevator slid open.

"God, thank you so much," Kieran said to him. He paused and pretended to think something over. "Hey, we should get a drink or something one of these days. I'll stop by after my shift this week and give you my number." He watched as two spots of color began to rise in the receptionist's face before hurrying off to the elevator, shooting one more grin over his shoulder.

In the elevator, he hit the button for the 11th floor and exhaled slowly. He couldn't go straight to 12; whoever might be up there would most definitely know that he was not an employee here.

He closed his eyes and focused on where he could feel his blades pressed against his skin. Five against his stomach and back. Three digging into his shoulder blades. One pressed against each thigh, and one in each boot that he could barely feel through his sock.

The elevator dinged mechanically, and the doors opened. Kieran slipped out and stepped into a shadowy corner while he examined his surroundings. Only the emergency lights remained on; he remembered from the website that this floor was rented by some accounting firm, so most of their employees likely worked from 9 to 5.

He left the safety of the darkness and carefully made his way along the hall. Many of the doors contained metal plates engraved with names or titles, and every once and a while he passed a storage or cleaning closet. He made note of each of these; they would serve as convenient hiding places while he waited.

Once he had ensured that the lights in all of the offices were off, he returned to one of the cleaning closets. He slid off his jacket and hung it on the corner of a shelf. Underneath, he wore all black attire that could easily be identified as tactical clothing, but a few minutes of searching through the closet's contents turned up an orange vest with the words 'STAFF' printed across the back. It wold be good enough. He slipped it on and checked his watch again. 8:45.

Kieran tossed a few spray bottles and a rag into a cleaning tote on the shelf and slipped soundlessly out of the closet. He returned to the elevator and hit the button for the 12th floor this time.

When the doors opened, he could hear a few distant voices echoing down the hall. He'd expected that. He wiggled the doorknobs of several offices before he found an unlocked room. Crouching beside the doorframe, he pressed his ear to the wall and waited until the voices faded as their owners moved farther away.

Kieran slipped back into the hallway and sprayed the contents of one of the bottles onto the rag. He padded silently down the hall, stopping every few feet to wipe at the glass panes set into the doors. When he finally reached the end of the hall, he peered around its corner to find a group of suited men standing clustered together, speaking quietly. They glanced up at him, frowning, but resumed their conversation as soon as they spotted his vest.

Perfect. Kieran would just need to linger a few more minutes in this hallway until Baines arrived. He retraced his steps down the hall, wiping the doors on its other side as he listened intently to the group's voices, waiting for their tones to change.

The moment Leon stepped in, he was hit by just how…grand it all was. The sleek marble floor seemed too clean to be real, sterile as a hospital despite the countless people who travelled along it each day. The decor was minimalist yet showy, the furniture must have cost a fortune. Leon thought for a while about what he could possibly hide behind. One of those dark leather sofas perhaps? It was close enough to the elevator for him to feel secure about using his pistol to take aim. He could hide until S. Baines entered or left the building…but it was too exposed for his taste, too difficult to make a speedy getaway. Besides, how would he hide behind a couch without being spotted? Far too obvious. Leon was already fed up with this target, admittedly annoyed with Mother too for allotting him such an ill-fitting mission. He had learned to bite his tongue and not ask her too many questions, it rarely produced any sort of meaningful result. He glanced around at the real security guards, they all had proper uniforms on. In order to be believable, he would need one of those. That would be his first step.

He walked up to the receptionist’s desk and waited idly in line, a little bit miffed with the flirty behaviour of the person in front of him. He supposed it was an…innovative method to get people to believe you, but one that wasted his time. He clenched his jaw and sighed lightly.

None of that took too much longer at least. When the other man left to go in the elevator, Leon at last approached the – still quite flustered – receptionist.

“I am a new security guard at this establishment. I don’t yet have my uniform or a key card yet though…I would be pleased if you could tell me where I could find one,” Leon kept his tone flat and his expression neutral. His arms were crossed and his shoulders stiff.

“Ah…yes…right,” The receptionist made a hasty attempt at getting composed. “I was never told about a new hire coming in today…”

“Well...” Leon shrugged, “They must have forgotten. Embarrassing, but mistakes happen.”

The receptionist now seemed apprehensive. “Let me call up my manager to confirm.”

Shit. That was not what Leon wanted to hear.

“I was told not to disturb the managers more than necessary today,” A bit of annoyance found its way into his voice as he thought on the fly. “I would have called them already if I could.”

Despite that absolute trainwreck of a lie, the receptionist was starting to get intimidated by Leon’s tone, like he was worried he was going to cause a scene.

“We can’t create a hold up in the lobby either! You know just how important the person coming in just under an hour is,” Leon raised his voice a little, turning up the pressure.

The receptionist averted his eyes. “I suppose you’re right…” He mumbled. “There are uniforms on the second floor, and…we have guest key cards, but you’ll need to return it by the end of the day. They’ll probably issue you an official one sometime this week...”

The receptionist slid the guest keycard and a key to the security office across the desk to Leon, who snatched them up. A sense of relief filled his lungs as he turned away.

“About time…” He muttered loud enough for the receptionist to hear.

He walked quickly to the elevator, swiping his keycard on the censor. The doors parted after a few moments, and Leon stepped inside. He had no fondness for elevators, all cramped and stuffy, especially when other people were inside it with him. He was lucky enough that this elevator was empty at the moment. He pressed the shiny silver button for the second floor, and soon enough he was there. According to the information he was given access to by Locust, large portions of the second floor were just used for storage. The security office was also located there, with access to the surveillance footage and the uniform he needed. The halls were pretty drab and unremarkable, he glanced over each door until he found the one labelled the one with the security office label. He unlocked the door with a click, and headed inside, shutting the door again behind him. There were several monitors installed along the back desk. An elderly man with greying hair sat hunched over staring at them, he didn’t acknowledge Leon’s presence as he walked quietly over to the closet. He took one of the button down shirts. It had security embroidered into the front, so he could keep his coat on while remaining recognizable. The rest of his attire already fit with the disguise well enough, so he didn’t bother changing it. He undid the first three buttons on his shirt, and put the uniform over it so he’d be able to quickly change out his clothes after the hit was done. His button down was tight enough and the uniform thick enough for it not to be all that noticeable, but it was incredibly uncomfortable around the elbows especially.

Leon started to walk back out, but looked at the video surveillance on the monitors thoughtfully for a moment. Security was pretty tight, and although he kept a lot of his identifiable features hidden, there were still a lot of things he couldn’t hide without raising suspicion. If he was caught on camera there was a non zero chance they could track him down, even if he did pull off shooting the mark and fleeing. Technically, they already had caught him on camera. Him randomly disappearing would be suspicious. He mulled it over. If only that footage could go missing…then the only evidence would be word of mouth. Talking to anyone else would be a bad idea, and flat out murder would make a mess…so what if he knocked out the security guard, deleted some footage, and disabled the cameras? There wasn’t much time left, so he’d have to be quick about it. Creeping up behind the security guard with small and silent steps, Leon drew his pistol and cracked it over the man’s head forcefully before he had any time to react. He slumped over in his chair, a trickle of blood rolling down his head. Leon checked the man’s pulse. He was alive. Leon breathed a sigh of relief. The sound it had made was fairly loud, but this floor was largely deserted anyway, not to mention the shut door muffling it somewhat.

He stuffed the man under the desk the best he could, and sat at the computer. The time at the computer read 8:39. Far from ideal. He quickly clicked through to the past security feed. This wasn’t his first time using one of these, so he had some prior experience to work off of. He selected the option to disable the cameras and…

[Security code required]

He should’ve known…

He made a detour to search the pockets of the security guard for anything that could clue him into said security code, managing to extract a crumpled piece of paper with some numbers scrawled into it. With bated breath Leon entered it into the machine, letting out a deep exhale when it worked. The cameras were off. He went back to delete all the footage from 8:00 to 8:40, entering in the code once more with frantic energy. He made sure the security guard was compact and unconscious under the desk, secured his pistol back in its hidden compartment, and walked out. Next stop, the lobby bathroom. He would wait and listen until he heard S. Baines had entered the building, and would hope he would time his shot just right. There was a lot of chance involved, and very little time to prepare. He probably should've come even earlier.

He arrived back down at the lobby bathroom at 8:50, the entire trip there he could feel his heart beating quickly in his chest from sheer nerves. It wouldn’t be much longer now. He waited. Waited. Waited.

“Welcome, Mr. Baines.”

Leon’s heart lurched in his throat as he heard those words. It was time for the operation to be set in motion. He waited for a few more moments. Then a few more. Footsteps walked past the door. He kept waiting. Then, when he heard the elevator ding, he cracked open the door as much as he could get away with. S. Baines was about to enter the elevator. He looked about the same as Leon remembered him: an older, unremarkable looking man. He took a moment to regard the sunglasses his mark wore, glad he at least had good style.

S. Baines moved slowly and methodically. He mumbled something to his security personnel, something too quiet for Leon to hear. Suddenly, the man jerked his head over and stared Leon directly in the eyes, his tinted sunglasses tilted down slightly.

“What the…” The words escaped Leon’s mouth involuntarily.

In that moment, Leon felt visceral prey animal fear surge up in his chest. Everything screamed for him to draw his gun and pull the trigger, but his body would not move. S. Baines flashed him a knowing grin before continuing to the elevator. A few of his guards glanced over towards the bathroom door along with him, their expressions unreadable. Leon shut the door as quickly as he could, breathing frantically.

In all his years – no, his life – working at Locust, not a single mark had given him such a look. He had taken down members of criminal organizations that had not looked half as smug. That man knew what was coming. He had to have had eyes on him this whole time. Footsteps were getting closer, he kept a hand against his pistol. The sound stopped as it got close to the door Leon was leaning against.

“Be patient in there, Mr. Czajka,” A husky voice murmured from behind the door. “Mr. Baines would like a word with you.”

Leon didn’t reply, his eyes fixed on the ground in front of him.

“Don’t bother trying to get out either. Your chances of getting past security are…slim.”

He wondered if this was how his targets felt. So horribly vulnerable. He hadn’t used any bullets yet. The standard amount allotted was 6 bullets. If it would take a Locust assassin more than that to get the job done then the organization probably needed a replacement anyway. It’s not like how many bullets he had would matter anyway though if he was outnumbered.

It was the longest wait of Leon’s life. The lobby had grown even quieter, the lights had been turned out, but there was no sign of that person near the door moving. Leon hadn’t been able to think straight. No matter how hard he tried to figure out an escape route, it just wasn’t happening. He was screwed. Absolutely, with no shadow of a doubt, screwed. He figured this might be where he would die. In some stupid lobby bathroom, cornered like a spooked deer. This was not at all how he imagined it would be. Worst of all was how the rest of Locust would react.

It was forbidden to talk about assassins that had died on their missions. Some sort of…detachment method, maybe. There was to be no grief, no mourning, and definitely no funeral. They were to be treated like they never existed, aside from between the higherups perhaps, but it was unlikely they had anything good to say. Leon didn’t want to become nothing at all. The thought of that chilled him to his core.

The lights from outside the door flicked on. There were people whispering to each other outside the door now. He did not hear the other person approach, but he did hear someone leave, and a faint laugh.

“Terribly sorry for the delay,” The man’s voice made Leon clench his jaw. “You know...you weren’t the only one out to kill Baines today. Rather funny how that worked out, if I do say so myself.”

“Who are you?” Leon managed to choke out.

“Stop cowering in there and find out, Leon Czajka. C’mon, you’re better than that, right?”

Leon’s blood ran cold. He drew his pistol.

“How do you know my name? Tell me, and maybe I’ll consider it,” Leon found it in himself to add a little bite to his voice, steeling his nerves.

Another laugh could be heard from the other side of the door, no longer faint as it was before. “Negotiating is an effort in futility, I’m afraid…”

Leon exhaled sharply.

“I could always open fire in there…it would be easy...be grateful I'm giving you a chance."

So that was his choice then. Die in here or die out there. He figured at least he had more options in the lobby then in the bathroom, though neither were at all ideal. He preferred dying because of a choice he made to dying due to inaction anyways.

Leon’s hand found the door handle, and he stepped into the now brightly lit lobby, clutching his pistol tight. There was no sign of the man at first, but a flash of movement from his peripherals clued him in a moment too late. The wrist of his dominant hand was yanked forward and contorted with a sickening crack. Leon involuntarily loosened his grasp on his pistol, the firearm slipping through his fingers as he let out a sharp yelp of pain. ‘Baines’ kicked it underneath the receptionist desk. He did not yet let go of Leon.

“Much better,” The other assassin smiled fondly at him. “No need for such a garrish thing here. Wouldn’t you rather die like a gentleman?”

A fist connected with his spine, sending him staggering forward onto the ground as ‘Baines’ finally released his wrist. The landing only made things worse, he could feel something tear in his right shoulder as he collapsed onto it. For a moment, everything was blurry. his body was shot with flashes of cold that started from his fingertips and ended at the back of his neck.

Leon felt like he was going to vomit, he could taste bile in his throat. His vision began to clear somewhat. His sunglasses were broken on the ground in front of him, the lenses had shattered when he fell. Leon slowly raised his head to look at the man. He had not moved since punching him, just staring at Leon with the kind of look an artist may give a painting they are particularly proud of.

Leon now wondered if this was how dying mice feel when housecats play with their food.

He could not yet get to his feet. His wrist was completely numb and already showing signs of swelling. His thoughts were barely coherent, he did his best to steady them. The doors would be locked at this hour…windows…he had already assumed to be bulletproof…all he could do now was buy more time. ‘Baines’ was still only watching him struggle for now. He could use that to his advantage. He managed to struggle out of his coat, another shock of pain shooting from his wrist as he pulled his sleeve past it with his other hand. He tried to get up again, managing to find somewhat of a footing. He held his right arm gingerly, right below the strap that held his Swiss Army knife. The extra layer of the baggier uniform just barely concealed it enough. He kept his gaze fixed on the ground, but he could hear the assassin growing closer. He pulled the strap on his arm a little looser, being as subtle as he could. His legs were shaking uncontrollably from the pain of standing. He had his doubts that he was even going to make it.

“Where did all your fight go, Leon?” He could practically hear the other man’s smirk.

“I…” Leon’s body felt heavy.

“Imagine the look on your siblings’ faces when they hear you’re dead.”

Leon felt a hand wrap around his throat, though it did not yet make any effort to strangle him. The bodydouble’s eyes were fixed on his in an intense stare.

“Imagine their disappointment. Imagine who the next to be sent to their death will be. Your failure will not be the last....”

The grip around Leon’s neck tightened.

“The reason they sent you in the first place-“

Leon pulled the knife free completely, catching it with his left hand as it slid down his arm. He flicked the blade out with his finger, and in one fluid movement, drove it into the assassin’s left thigh. The man let out a startled yell, hands falling away from Leon’s throat. He was still gripping the knife with as much strength as he could muster, so he extracted it quickly to make sure that ‘Baines’ would bleed as much as possible. Leon didn’t waste his time looking at the damage, but he could smell the metallic tang of blood in the air.

His whole body felt numb as he staggered to the elevator as fast as his battered body would let him, coughing every few steps. His pistol was completely forgotten. All he could think about was putting distance between himself and his assailant. He scanned his card clumsily on the elevator, while the man attempted to stand. The doors wooshed open, and Leon nearly tripped over Kieran as he hurried in. He didn’t have the time or energy to ask questions. All he was concerned with right now was getting inside in one piece.

He reached over and pressed the button to get up to the second floor, the blood on his hand leaving a dripping mark on the silver button. As the elevator doors closed, he could see ‘Baines’ beginning to limp slowly towards him, leaving a trail of crimson through the foyer.

Kieran dreamed of the lake.

The landscape was covered in snow, blanketing the treetops and turning the distant mountains into pale smudges against the sky. A thick sheet of ice covered the water, and the little sun that streamed through the clouds illuminated it in a way that seemed like the light was coming from the depths of the lake. It was unnaturally silent; the thick layer of snow and ice muffled all sound, even the birds singing from the branches of a nearby tree.

Kieran was suddenly aware of the snow soaking into his boots and the legs of his pants. It wasn't cold like it should have been, just damp.

He peered down towards the edge of the lake and felt his heart plummet. Two tiny figures, wrapped in jackets and scarves, lobbed sloppily made snowballs back and forth. One was a bit taller than the other, and the shorter one had the wobbly gait of a young child.

If he squinted hard enough, he could nearly make out the strands of hair sticking wildly out of Winnie's hat, or the rosy flush across Gael's nose. He could just hear the ringing echo of their giggles, muffled by the snow, but it was impossible to distinguish their voices from each other. He was struck with the urge to move closer, but he couldn't seem to force his feet to move through the snow.

Kieran didn't spot their parents anywhere. He knew, in the real memory, that they had been walking just behind the treeline. Now, though, it just seemed eerie; two tiny smudges alone against an endless expanse of whiteness. He supposed they had been alone when Nathaira found them, too, but here at least they were together.

He wondered idly if this was the afterlife, and then immediately hoped not, because the idea of spending eternity with wet socks was not appealing to him.

The wind had begun to pick up, blowing the snow out of its drifts and into the air in an explosion of icy crystals. They swirled in front of Kieran's eyes, partially obscuring the memory of his siblings. He swiped furiously at his eyes, where tiny crystals had begun to cling to his eyelashes, and tried to step forward again, but it was like his feet had frozen to the ground. It seemed like the two tiny figures were drifting farther from him, deeper into the snowstorm; he felt a spike of panic in his chest, and his heart began to thump uncomfortably against his ribs. He tried to call out to them, but he couldn't force the words out of his throat.

The wind had started to swirl faster, whipping at his clothes and howling in his ears. Now the figures before him had disappeared completely, along with the distant lake and mountains. He was surrounded by an impenetrable wall of swirling white.

Somewhere in the woods behind him, a bird's caw tore through the screaming of the wind. He turned towards the treeline, but an especially vicious gust of wind sent an explosion of ice crystals into his face. The bird cawed again, its cry unnaturally monotone and musical. His mind distantly registered the sound, but he couldn't place where he'd heard it before.

The bird cried once more, and an odd rustling noise followed in its wake. Kieran shifted his weight uneasily from foot to foot, anticipating the emergence of... something from the brush.

The bird's piercing screech reached his ears again, and he felt the sudden odd sensation of falling backwards, though his feet were still planted firmly on the ground. He shut his eyes and tried to ward off the wave of nausea that swept over him.

When Kieran opened his eyes again, he was staring up at a sleek paneled ceiling with minimalistic lights that send a wave of pain through his skull. He was aware that he was on the ground now; the hard surface under him sent pain shooting through his shoulder blades each time he even thought about moving.

It took him several moments to recall what had happened: stalking Baines's body double, the fight in the elevator, falling unconscious. The elevator dinged softly, and he realized that was what the bird's call had been.

He didn't think he'd been out for too long. The blood that had run down his temple from his head wound was still warm and wet. He could taste iron in the back of his throat, too, and hoped it came from somewhere in his mouth rather than an internal injury.

The floor of the elevator jolted under him, and he realized it was moving. Strange. It had stopped after the body double departed, and Kieran certainly wasn't in any state to have pushed its buttons. He supposed there could still be someone lingering on the upper floors who needed a ride down. He almost laughed. They were in for a surprise, then.

He didn't feel quite as disoriented as he had right after the blow, which he thought was a good sign. His head and the wound on it still ached horribly, and the rest of his body felt like it was covered in bruises and more minor abrasions.

He needed to get up, he thought glumly. Otherwise, whoever was waiting for the elevator upstairs would probably think someone had stashed a corpse there. He closed his eyes and tried to take a few deep breaths. He really had no idea what the extent of his injuries might be; he could have a fractured spine and paralyze himself as soon as he tried to move. He wouldn't be surprised if he had some internal bleeding, either, and moving around would certainly not improve that.

The pain in his head seemed to be radiating down his neck, but that could just be a result of the force of the blow. He stretched his chin up slightly and found that he could move it with minimal pain. No broken neck, then. At least he had that going for him.

He turned his head to rest his left cheek on the cool tile floor. His head throbbed and the muscles in his neck ached with the movement, but he could at least do it. He was much more hesitant to press the right side of his face to the ground; his wound was on his right temple and still leaking a steady stream of blood into his hair.

The wound stung when it touched the ground, but that was the extent of the pain. Kieran had closed his eyes in anticipation of the sensation, and now he let out a long breath and opened them again.

There was a boot just several inches from his head.

Kieran almost screamed, but at the last minute realized how badly that would hurt and bit his lip to keep from squeaking. He craned his neck slightly to glance up at the owner of the shoe, squinting and hoping that he still looked at least semi-unconscious.

He didn't need to worry. The man was still standing, but he looked as rough as Kieran did. There was blood spattered across his clothes, and one of his wrists hung at an odd angle, red and swollen.

Kieran had no idea what to do. If he weren't so badly hurt, he could flip out one of his knives and go for an artery in the man's leg. He was fairly sure that if he stood now, he would go careening into the opposite wall.

He surveyed the man again. He was decently tall, with brown hair that cast his face into shadow as he slouched against the wall. Kieran didn't recognize him, though he looked to be wearing some tactical attire, including an empty holster. Likely a fellow hitman, then, just not from Nathaira.

The elevator jolted again, and Kieran sucked in a breath as his sore shoulder jammed against the solid floor. He was running out of options. He knew attacking the man was impossible in his state, but playing dead in an elevator with who knows what sort of severe injuries sounded unbearable.

He was a laughable excuse for a threat at the moment. Maybe the man wouldn't try to kill him if he just got up.

Kieran sat up slowly, his muscles screaming in protest. He could feel his pulse pounding in his ears, and it felt like all the remaining blood in his body was rushing straight to his head. He turned slightly and feigned surprise at the sight of the other man. "I didn't realize anyone else was here," he said, trying to look as innocent as possible.

He opened his mouth to continue, but a surge of pain rushed through his head, and his stomach turned. The idea of puking in an elevator with a total stranger was not ideal to him, so he lowered himself back down onto the ground quickly. He realized how absurd it was to carry on a conversation as he lay flat on the ground with a head injury, but he was far too exhausted to make up a story about he was in the elevator at the wrong time or something.

"I'm sorry," he said tiredly to the man, who had miraculously not tried to kill him yet. "I'm Kieran. Did you, um- were you after Baines too?" He couldn't see any visible wounds on the man's body, so he had to hope that all that blood had come from the body double. "It looks like maybe you fared a little better than I did."