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Hush

Their breathing was shallow. It always was in a situation like this, because they couldn't afford any mistakes. Everything had to go perfectly. Or they would die.

Somebody was going to die today either way, but they'd have to be stupid to want it to be them. So it was better to get the job done, and get it over with. And that mind set stuck with them as they stuck close to the wall, high above the floor.

The fall, if they were to slip, would surely kill them, and that just added to the risk of death.

They were genuinely starting to think this was more of a suicide mission that anything. The only positive was that the person that they had to kill was not going to be surrounded by body guard. They were going to be alone. But they were also going to have a gun. Thus generally made it easier for Watty, because it could simply be framed as a suicide, and no clean-up would be necessary.

Suddenly the ear piece in his ear squeaked, and a deep, crackled voice spoke.

"I spy..."

Watty frowned. That was what they were told when their mission called for a spy, not an assassin, which was what they were being now.

"What?" They hissed, "that's not what I was told."

"No. Change of plan. We took care of him. We thought you could do with a little reintroductory."

Watty reached up to push the microphone closer to their mouth so their whispers would be better picked up.

"What's that supposed to mean? It's barely been two months, I know what I'm doing!"

"I have no doubts. I spy..."

Watty sighed, and relaxed their positioning slightly.

"What?"

"There's an old friend in the room. Locate them. Danger level 10."

"10?!"

The voice didn't reply, and Watty cursed under their breath, putting their black handgun away, instead pulling out their favourite, and slightly better gun out. It was still a handgun, but held more bullets, and was much more complicated to use - meaning nobody in their right mind would try to steal it from them. After checking it was loaded, they held it close to them and peered down towards the floor. But wait...

That was stupid. If this 'old friend' was part of the Syndicate, they wouldn't make it so easy as that. And if they dropped to the floor, they'd also be dropping themself in some deep shit.

At least, you'd expect that, but this was thrown completely out the window when Watty saw a dark figure, wearing the same type of clothing to them. They walked out and stood right in the centre of the room. Watty rolled their eyes, and pulled their hood up further, and pressed the tiny buttons on each side of their trousers, which activated a shock absorber around their knees, and shins. It provided enough support to jump down, and that's what they did.

After pulling out one of their knives (naturally multicoloured), and tightened their grip on the gun  they straightened up and jumped down, bending their knees as they landed, smirking at the dull pain that shot through their legs at the impact, even with the shock absorbers, and the gun was pointed. The figure hadn't even reached for their gun. They stood tall, and gave a small laugh.

"Who are you? And why are you danger level 10?"

"I'm not." A female voice replied, that made Watty gasp, and falter, "at least not to the Syndicate. To you however... I still think it should be level 11."

Level 11. Even if the voice wasn't enough, level 11 didn't exist, and Watty only knew one person who made that joke.

"Cheska?" Watty questioned.

"Of course, who else?"

Watty lowered the gun, because even in training, lowering their gun to Cheska was always allowed. The white-blonde haired girl lowered her hood, her green eyes beaming. Watty stood too, and didn't move as Cheska moved towards them.

Once in front of them, she lowered his hood, revealing the orange hair they hadn't been bothered to spray dye black. She then removed his mask, and tucked it into their belt.

Cheska was the only person Watty knew who was smaller than them. It was how they knew each other in the place, because the Syndicate trained recruits in groups of height, because the tasks they asked taller people to do, were not the same as the tasks they got people about Watty's height to do.

The two had always been close, even if their connection was supposed to be strictly task partners. The Syndicate couldn't afford to lose both of them however, and neither of them could be moved elsewhere. So they had no choice but to ignore the fact that they were much too close to be deemed just friends.

But that was where they were wrong. As close as Cheska and Watty were, the two had never been together. They'd just been friends. Everybody always left the 'with benefits' off the end, because... well. Was it really necessary?

No, was the correct answer.

"What are you doing here?" Watty asked, as the girl stepped closer to them.

"I missed you. Three months Nate. Three fucking months with no word. I would have least like to have been told if you were alive. After that mission, no one could be sure."

"Maybe you shouldn't have left me then. Just a suggestion."

"You know it doesn't work like that. You would've had to have done the same."

Watty sighed, "I know."

Cheska smiled a patient, knowing smile, and reached up to wrap her hands around the back of their neck, tangling her fingers in their hair. Watty's instant reaction was the wrap his own arms around her back, pulling them both closer.

"Beleive it or not," he whispered, "I missed you too. But I wanted out."

"You can't-"

"No, not out of the Syndicate; out of that location. I wanted to join in with real life too. Hence why I'm here at the university."

"Here at the university, with guns and knives, and a small black earpiece."

"Apparently so..."

"Well... what do your roommates think you're doing?"

"Exploring."

"They didn't want to come with?"

Watty grinned slyly, "I'm the only one who's finished all my outstanding assignments."

"Well then... got time for an 'old friend' Mx. Ghost."

Watty raised an eyebrow, and reached up to remove Cheska's mask from around her neck, which was almost identical to the one she had removed from them minutes prior.

"Always."