Belladonna

2.9 ] Gifts

••●••

FUN FACT: MY father has never lied to me before. Or so I've thought. Apparently he does it really well. So maybe he has before. Because I held no suspicion when he told me about what those files contained. I believed him whole heartedly. I thought we were doing the world a favour by retrieving this information. Now I understand we could be doing the opposite.

We wait for him in silence. Because there's nothing else we can do. No one is in the mood for doing anything else really. I don't think even lunch or some basic concept could have our thoughts stray from what's going to happen.

So here we are. In our little glass meeting room, waiting. 

"You guys have seriously never done something like this before?" Margeux asks suddenly, breaking to silence we had going on.

"Like what?" Sasha asks. 

"Like I don't know, hand over nukes to your boss?"

"Nope." Heather shakes her head.

"Or so you've thought." Margeux shrugs. Everyone stares at her. "I mean...when Director Hayes' explained to me what you do here he said it's a legal way to do illegal things so that there's no room for anarchy. I just...I don't know why you're all surprised the top secret assassination club you're in is involved in possible war and shit."

"We're keeping everything calm," Odyssey defends, "Our job was always to prevent anarchy and put a sense of order into the country. We do...we thought we were doing good things. Like preventing the Dickens family from putting more homes in debt."

"I mean you've definitely prevented anarchy," Margeux scoffs, "But if anything. task forces like this are steps closer to tyranny."

She's right. I mean of course she is. Because otherwise she wouldn't have found herself here, with Team X. Her intelligence is probably just as annoying as her beauty. 

"So why are you here then?" Liam snarls, "If you've felt this way the entire time - why would you become an instigator to tyranny as you like to put it?"

Margeux shrugs, "Either I joined or I went to jail." 

Bullshit. She likes it here. She has too much fun. Especially for someone who had a bag thrown over her head before she was subjected to this place. 

Finally, in the midst of our heated discussion - Director Hayes finally shows up. My dad, as professional as ever, doesn't even notice the aura of the room. The intention and anticipation. 

He assumes the silence is of its usual nature. Our respect and fear of him.

"Evening." He says. Evenings are murmured back. 

"We have something we wanted to talk about with you." Sasha clears her throat. 

"Oh?" My father looks up. 

"Regarding our mission today." She elaborates.

"I'm all ears." He adjusts his tie. 

"Everything went according to plan," Elliot leans off of his designated wall, "We got the file. It's here with us now. We cleared any possible digital copy of it as well."

"Perfect. Hand it over." My father shrugs. 

"That's the thing," Elliot tilts his head, "Not sure if we want to."

Daddy dearest stands there for a moment. You can see in his expression the moment it settles. The moment he realises we know. And instead of desperation, apologies or foolery - he remains unchanged. 

"Was opening that folder part of your mission?" He asks calmly. 

"No." Elliot shrugs. 

"And so why did you?" A silver shred of anger peeks through my father's tone. 

"I wanted to make sure everything was in there. Enough at least." He explains, "And, as it turns out, there was more than enough."

"Indeed." Hayes hum. 

"So?" Keagen, surprisingly, given he's the least confrontational, "Care to explain it?"

"No." Dad shrugs.

"You lied to us," Odyssey frowns, "You said this was stolen from us."

"I did." 

No one has anything to say. I'm sure most of us were expecting him to try and come up with a story. Or an explanation. Maybe an excuse. But neither the former nor the latter become. 

"What are you going to say next? To persuade us to gift you this file?" Vika's cockiness is rare. She's usually either grumpy, or angry. Never mocking. 

"A gift in return." 

"Which would be?" Odyssey urges.

"Your lives." The words that fall out of my father's lips are not unusual ones from him. He threatens stuff like this all the time. But not once have I heard it in response to anyone on Team X. 

Silence, a good friend of this room's, overlaps once again. We aren't quiet because we're nervous. Or waiting to bite the bullet and confront someone. There's silence, because there is new territory. 

"This is your job," My dad speaks, "You do what we say. You get paid generously, and you don't ask questions. This work not new territory for any of you. At this point, you have all seen and done things any normal person outside of this bubble will never have to. So again. You will hand me that file, you will get paid, and you will ask no further questions. You know what is the otherwise."

Wow. I almost want to laugh. Because we really should have just burned the damn file like Sasha said. But there was that pathetic and humiliating shred of hope - small enough to outweigh our common sense. That's what hope does. That's its power.

And so by the end of this meeting, by the end of the day, everyone in this room has something. Some of us, a plummeting realisation that our job is finally as complex as it sounds, one of us, realising a father would lie even to his son, and the luckiest person, with a file in his hands like he predicted. 

••●••

Team X realising their jobs are actually dangerous:

- Juana.