𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐬 ⇴ 𝘥𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘺 𝘫𝘰𝘩𝘯𝘴𝘰𝘯

ii. new beginnings

The first time Elaine killed someone, they were 17. They remembered every second—the gun that the woman pointed at them, the anger in her eyes—she would have killed them. They had to make the first move to survive. Still, that didn't erase the blood on their hands. It didn't make up for the parents that lost their child, or the husband that lost his wife. The guilt ate them up inside for years.

They had taken many more lives since then. The guilt never went away. Instead, it was shelved away for another time. It was part of being an agent—but even after years of training at the Academy and being on the field, they still hesitated for a split second before pulling the trigger.

The guards in the prison would not get the luxury of that hesitation.

They didn't remember falling asleep. Elaine loosely held the makeshift, plastic knife underneath the pillow as gunshots and shouting erupted from outside their cell. They shot up, grip tightening as they made their way to the door. Standing on their tip-toes to see out of the barred window, they called out Andrei's name. There was no reply.

Instead, a woman with dark hair and clothes stood beside a young man at the end of the hall. The woman's face was turned away from the door, but she signaled for the man to go towards the cell. He was carrying a black case with an all-too-familiar silver eagle etched into it.

"Agent Ross," he came to the door, and they heard him place something against the metal. His tone was awfully chipper for the situation at hand—and he had a Scottish accent. "Please step away from the door."

Before they even had a moment to step backward, a small blast went off near the handle of the door. They waved the smoke out of their face, gripping the small weapon tighter. The agent looked taken aback as the door opened—they tried not to be offended; they probably looked like shit.

"I'll—uh, I'll escort you to the bus. Agent Simmons is waiting for you there."

"Sounds good to me," They muttered, "I'll be on your six."

The two walked through the hallway. Soldiers laid on the ground, some in pools of blood and others unconscious. As they reached the corner, their dark eyes scanned the compound, searching for a message—or a body.

"They're looking for the other prisoner now," He said, peeking around the corner, then motioning for them to come along, "Is he a friend?"

"Yeah."

The agents could see the sunlight from the open door while they continued down the hall, but as they walked Elaine stopped and grabbed the man's arm. They stopped in front of a door labeled 'depozitare.' Quickly swinging the door open, Elaine saw a room full of servers, with two soldiers springing to action at the sight of the agents.

The agent beside Elaine fumbled with a handgun, quickly taking out the unarmed guard. As he fell to the ground, a blue substance tracing his veins up to his neck, the one with a gun pointed it at the two.

Elaine quickly grabbed the barrel and pushed it away, the gun firing to the left of them. Then, they twisted it around, forcing the gun out of the hands of the soldier. They threw the gun to the side, knowing they wouldn't have enough strength or time to use it anyway. The man punched Elaine square in the jaw. They grappled with him for a few moments, then stabbed him in the jugular with the plastic knife. Blood squirted from the man's neck as he fell, the knife's handle getting soaked.

"What the hell?" The agent asked, looking horrified.

"What?" Elaine responded as they stepped over the man's body.

"I could have just shot him with the night-night gun!"

"I have no idea what that means—" They scanned the room, their eyes quickly falling on a silver flash drive plugged into a server in the back of the room, "—Wait here."