𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 | 𝐅. 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐒

𝟷𝟷. 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙱𝙰𝙱𝙸𝙻𝙸𝚃𝚈 𝙼𝙰𝙿

𝚃𝚘: 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙴𝚁𝚂
𝙵𝚛𝚘𝚖: 𝙿𝟻𝟷𝟹𝟾𝟸𝟻𝙷
𝙳𝚊𝚝𝚎: 𝟶𝟺𝟹𝟶𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟷

𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙿𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙴𝙻𝙴𝚅𝙴𝙽: 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙱𝙰𝙱𝙸𝙻𝙸𝚃𝚈 𝙼𝙰𝙿

━━━━━━

"A.J.?"

You stood in a worn-out phone booth tucked in the corner of a half-deserted street, the glass fogged from the rain outside. The static buzz of the line filled your ear while distant shuffling and clattering echoed from the other end.

Finally, a familiar voice came through. "Red! Lovely to hear your voice again," Carmichael chirped. "Apologies for the delay. I've been quite busy. I'm scheduled to leave for a business trip tomorrow."

You leaned back against the booth, glancing out at the streets. "I see. Um... A.J., I'd like to make a proposition."

"If it's about killing the traitor, then I'm all ears," He replied smoothly, all professionalism—until there was a flicker of curiosity behind his words.

You hesitated. "Why don't we just... kill him there? Or better yet, punish him there. At the Commission."

There was a pause.

"But that would mean postponing your mission to eliminate the traitor. Why? Finding the assignment too difficult for you to handle, Red?" His tone sharpened, challenging.

You sighed and lowered your voice. "No. I just think... you'd get more satisfaction seeing him broken there, under your control, than me finishing him off out here. You want assurance he's dead? Bring him in. Watch it yourself."

"I trust you, Red. So if you said you killed him, I will believe it."

"A.J. I lied about your underwear. It was Gary's not yours."

"What the fuck, (Y/n). I'm wearing it right now. Stop kidding around."

"My point is—assassins lie. They say they got the job done when they didn't. You want proof? Bring him in. Let the Commission deal with it properly."

Another pause. The line crackled.

"...I suppose you're right," Carmichael admitted, voice slightly begrudging. "For now, follow the Handler's orders. Which are?"

"Find Number Five and bring him back to the Commission. She assigned Hazel and Cha-Cha to kill him while she gave a different one to mine. I guess she never wanted Number Five dead."

"Of course. That's the Handler."

"Just promise me you'll punish him when I deliver him. You know how dangerous he is."

"Alright, alright. And were you serious about the underwear?"

"No. It's Mark's underwear."

"(Y/n)!"

You cheekily smiled and ended the call. The click of the receiver echoed like a punctuation mark, and for a moment, you just stood there. The city was alive outside—horns, voices, engines—yet none of it seemed to reach you. 'Sorry, A.J., I know I said I didn't care about my past. That it didn't matter. But these flashbacks, these dreams... I can't ignore them anymore. I need to know.'