Bloodied Heart

Chapter 3

Back in the agents' base, Agent Daw and Agent Jeff were situated in the weapon room. An arsenal of weapons lined the walls and piled the floors, from AK-47s to an assortment of butterfly knives and daggers.

Agent Jeff was pacing around the room, hand caressing the weapons and examining them as he passed them. The yellow manila folder lay gingerly in Agent Daw's hands, with them sitting on a spinning office chair. "Name's Zoey Rogue, aged 22. Lives In Holland Street," The agent rattled off noncommittally, boosting the chair into a lazy twirl.

"22? What kind of enemies has she made to have a hit on her at this age?"

"Daddy owns a big company, apparently."

".........Mm."

Ah. That flash of hesitance. The faltering balance between the cash they needed to bring in and the piece of humanity they were forced to rip out, never to be craved again by their empty soul. Whether such sympathy would be a blessing or a curse, no one could ever say for sure. Sharp eyes raked over the motionless figure of their companion, silently observing the way his eyes seemed to glaze over, the usual glimmer in them nowhere to be found, an empty despondence lingering in its place.

Bless Agent Jeff's soul, for despite years worth of blood on his hands, it still had the ability to feel. To empathise.

Agent Daw looked away in defeat and sighed. They could come back to this later.

Agent Daw lowered a foot onto the ground, slowing the chair to a stop. Getting up, the agent walked towards the wall of weapons in front of them. Their eyes slowly sifted through the weapons, picking out a couple of basic handguns and laying them out on the table before them.

"Hand me that knife, Jeff. Cyn's usual. He'll thank us if we bring it onto the field. Add in a few others as well, in case he wants a selection." A few seconds of rummaging later, an outstretched hand presented Agent Daw with a handful of knives. The agent took them, spreading them out beside the guns.

Agent Daw kept their head down, sorting through the spread of weapons. Perhaps the agent was a little too silent for their companion's liking, because he seemed to take notice of their closed off demeanour, eyes trained on them for longer than they'd like.

"Hey, you alright? Keep your head in the game. Actually no, keep your smile in the game. Makes the game a game."

Dark but accurate, Agent Daw thought. "For both of us, at least. Agent Cyn is probably hiding somewhere, in some underground ditch or something."

"Hah, you're such a meanie. Cyn is a good one, though. He might be... quiet, I guess, but he's definitely someone we can trust, you know? Even if his agent name doesn't show that, probably sinned too much in his past life," Agent Jeff joked offhandedly, flashing Agent Daw a sincere smile.

Perhaps this world wasn't as messed up as Agent Daw thought.

Agent Daw smiled back.

-・- ⋅ -・-

The intertwining city alleyways always brought his mind back to his first few assignments, where the horrid smells of city grime and bloodshed muddled together and stained the corner of his psyche. As Caylen's targets held increasing significance, his workplace followed suit. Now, the stench of the alleyway was oddly nostalgic. Things had changed, he supposed. He had a team he trusted. Contrary to the sleepless nights accompanied by no time of the day for frivolous thoughts, he could afford to pine after someone without having to worry about random thugs stabbing him in his sleep. Heck, he had a proper bed to sleep in now.

The low revving of a vehicle to his right alerted him of the approaching sleek grey Hyundai. He turned his head, expecting to see two familiar faces pull up in front of him, but instead found himself scrambling out of the path of the said vehicle. Had his reaction speed been a second slower, he probably would have woken up to the pristine white ceiling of a hospital.