I loved them all, you see. That is what’s important to understand.
We were brothers! Not literally, but two years of intensive training can forge a family out of anyone. I got the notion from Lollipops himself — he shouted something about brothers at me when he came foolishly charging.
It started with Rainbows though. He’d always joke that he’d never want to see it coming. Laughing one moment, then pow! Nothing but a sharp fuzz and a one-way ticket to whatever lies beyond. Lollipops had disagreed, always the fighter. Lollipops wanted to go out with a knife in his back, dragging his innards behind him while choking the life out the mark that had done him in.
I was indifferent. Those two were too easily romanced. The program filled their heads with ideology — echoes of boyish fantasy, tinges of Hollywood glory. Ah, the professional assassin! Silenced weapons, advanced gadgetry, dusky women, sinister targets.
In reality, the program would have us deployed under the auspices of a splintered off government entity with next to no oversight. The money that funded ops was feedback looped right into the worst-case scenarios of the so-called anonymous marks. I knew this because that was my expertise. Intel. My role wasn’t to shoot but to be the proverbial eye in the sky. Get it?
Of course, they trained me just the same. Issued the same standard pistol, which I placed at the base of Rainbow’s skull as soon as the last beats of the helicopter’s blades faded in the distance.
He was chuckling at something Lollipops had joked about. Perfect.
I tossed the weapon away, knowing the shock-factor would take away Lolli’s edge. Otherwise, we were an equal match at hand-to-hand. I gave myself five to one odds as he came screaming at me, unsheathing his combat knife.
Odds: ten to one as his angry leading lunge propelled him an inch too far over his centre of mass. Easy dodge and disarming — instead I dodged and broke his jaw with base of my hand. The only gift I could give him at this point.
Adrenaline kept him up. Lollipops spun, recovering a bit slow from the overbalance. By then my own knife was out and I pirouetted in and sliced it through his abdomen. He stood there, clutching at his guts. I was a little disappointed that they did not spill out like he’d wished. Nor would there be an opportunity to put the knife in his back.
He remembered his gun now, slapping with one hand at his holster, so I tossed the blade into his neck, and then our team was just me.
My transponder crackled.
“Agent Sunshine, we’re reading two flatlines on life support, please advise.”
I turned it off. Work had just begun.
by Jordan Castle