Assassination 2136

Chapter 8: Justifying the Means

"News Now!" The TV blared in the corner of the breakroom. The serious sounding theme song ensued, trying to draw as much attention to itself as possible. I was seated on a couch next to Dovima, a bowl of MASH in front of me.

The break room was crowded, the sound of small talk bouncing off the stark white walls as I made a futile attempt to digest my food. Today I had a ham and cheese flavour on my temple, but I couldn't eat. I hadn't been able to stomach anything since last night, since my last assassination. This was the first time feeling this way. Usually I slept like a baby, ate like a horse. But today I dragged my feet, and spoke very little.

I sighed as I stood up, scraping my bowl into the waste bin nearby. It landed on it's fellow trash mates with a plop. My fingers then ripped the flavour sachets off my temples, and I threw them in the bin with a huff. Dovima looked up at me, swallowing her mouthful as I plonked back down on the couch.

"There was at least two minutes left before they timed out Sagi," she said, concern plastered on her face. I tilted my head to the side, leaning into her shoulder and returning my gaze to the TV in the corner.

"Protests gone wrong! Another protest just outside the subway station of the lower district erupted into violence after an altercation with police. Protestors became aggressive towards innocent pedestrians, and police claim they had no other choice but to open fire. Five people were killed in the scuffle. President Faralo had this to say"

The screen then cut to the President of Les Australis, causing me to snigger. He was a pudgy man, with a squashed potato for a nose. He was adorned in a suit and tie, his button up blouse fighting for dear life to stay buttoned up. President Faralo had been elected ten years ago, and had led the city with a firm iron grip.

War is peace, ignorance is strength, and truth is relative.

"The terrorism taking place in this city has been relentless, and I want to personally thank each and every officer on duty who responded to the call. Because of their actions, Les Australis continues to be a safe haven for all who obey the law," he bellowed, his demeanor calm and composed. I could see right through him though, the beads of sweat trickling down the side of his face giving away a tumultuous interior.

The camera then cut back to the news room.

"This just in, an assassination turned vigilante. We go live to the scene now," the woman anchor said. The screen then cut to a residential apartment, clearly in the fancier district of Les Australis. It was small, organised, with police crowding the room.

"Thank you Vol. This is the apartment of Lindsay Burge. Yesterday she was found dead in the parking lot at an eco-talk she was presenting at, and detectives found the case to be highly suspicious," the lady said. I sat bolt upright, almost knocking Dovima over in my flustered movements.

Lindsay. The lady I had killed. But why were they at her apartment? Dovima was also listening intently, and had stopped eating her food.

"However when looking into Lindsay's seemingly squeaky clean life, police unearthed a shocking discovery. Lindsay was found with 200Gb of child pornography on her home computer," an audible gasp could be heard in the breakroom, and it appeared everyone was now listening in to the broadcast with bated breath. That familiar knot in my stomach grew, making me feel queasy.

"So the question now is, was Lindsay assassinated by a murderer, or taken out by a vigilante? Back to you Vol," the reporter signed off, and the TV screen flicked back to the news station.

Chatter erupted from the break room of the MASH factory, starting slowly and quietly before growing to a bellowing roar of people sharing their unwelcomed opinion.

"I think whoever did it is a hero!"

"Murder is murder. It doesn't matter what the person did,"

"She should have gone to jail, not died,"

"What, and have my tax payer dollars feed and cloth her? No thanks!"

Voices, voices everywhere. The noise was starting to feel like a box, six walls closing in on me, squeezing me, making the air hard to breath. I started to hyperventilate. Gotta get out of here. Gotta get away.

I stood up, running out of the room that was overcrowded with words and nonsense. Dovima called after me, I could hear her but her voice sounded muffled, as if she was calling out from behind a glass pane. The door of the break room swung open and hit the wall with a muffled bang, and I leant against the wall to stop the world from spinning.

There was a hand against my back, a hand gently making swirling patterns. Around and around it went as I stared at the white wall unblinking. The hand then traced up my back to rest on my face.

"Sagi..." It was Dovima. I lifted my eyes to stare at her, those big doe eyes that I found comfort in. I felt my pulse slow, but my breathing was still ragged.

"They're lying," was all I could say between breaths. I sank down, curling into the fetal position with my head between my knees. I felt Dovima next to me. She had crouched down to be level with me. It wasn't the first panic attack our relationship had endured, and it wouldn't be the last.

"You don't need to feel guilty anymore, you did a good thing Sagi it was fate," Dovima reassured me, her fingers still tracing small patterns on my back to comfort me. It was quiet in the hallway, and even though we were whispering the noise still echoed against the walls.

I hated the idea of fate. That we as individuals are all fated to perform each action, to say every word. That nothing we do will change the outcome of our meaningless life. Like a train on tracks, barreling towards an end it cannot avoid. It makes every choice we make seem insignificant, because no matter what we do we were always destined to make that decision. Fate sucks, and thinking about it wasn't helping my panic attack any.

"She was a bad person," Dovima continued, her beautiful eyes bringing me back to the present. The pang in my stomach would not subside, guilt and nausea dragging me down to depths I usually dared not go.

"I've met bad people. I've killed bad people. She was not a bad person," I said, regaining composure. I lifted my head and stood up to my full height, towering above her. My breathing eased, and I looked Dovima in the eyes.

"It's too convenient," I added. The possibility of Lindsay being on an assassin contract because she was a pedophile wasn't impossible. However, I felt in my heart that it was more likely the child pornography had been found in her apartment because she was assassinated. As if someone was trying to make her death look justified.

"This contract isn't right Dovima," I said, grabbing both of her shoulders with my hands. I stooped so my eyes were level with hers. She was somewhat shocked, stepping back slightly. Her eyes were wide with concern, she usually tried to distance herself from my work yet here I was, burdening her with it.

"Do you have the IP address?" She asked. I blinked at this, stepping back and standing upright at this.

"Uh.... I guess so...." I said, unsure of where she was going with this. She gently took my hand in hers, her fingers intertwining with mine. She smiled up at me, that damn smile that had the ability to melt my normally cool and cold disposition.

"Let me look into it, I can try find out who gave you the contract. Would that make you feel better?" She asked. I felt almost embarrassed that I hadn't thought of it myself, but then again I wasn't the tech genius in the relationship. I nodded stiffly, running my free hand through my hair. Normally I would be embarrassed to be showing so much emotion, but Dovima had a way of making me feel comfortable and safe. No matter where we were.

"Ok, then that's that. I'll look into who this mysterious person is, and we can figure it out together," she said. Just then, the bell rang signalling the end of lunch break. I almost groaned out loud. My shoulders were killing me, and I have barely eaten all day. Dovima raised up on her tippy toes, and gave me a small peck on the cheek.

"I'll talk to you after work, ok?" She offered, before we both went back to our workstations.