If possible, Sonny looked worse sober than drunk. Chapped lips, sunken eyes, face beaded with cold sweat and large damp circles around his neck and armpits. Barely able to sit straight in the chair. He kept bouncing his knee, and his gaze was intently fixed on the glass of water in front of him, like he was hoping it would magically transform into whiskey. At least he’d gotten a haircut and a shave to better pass as a municipal worker, so that was a marked improvement.

Jacob watched him from his seat near the opposite end of the table, unable to suppress a growing sense of worry. He was becoming less and less convinced that the S-Rank would be able to hold it together, but Fenway had repeatedly denied restructuring the assignment without him. She was adamant that his abilities would be needed.

There were four of them in the meeting room at the Sleeping Cat—Jacob, Sonny, Bob, and Fenway—to go over the last details of the assignment before it would be carried out in the morning. Mr. Beau had been given some very basic information, but would not learn the specifics until after the fact. Becca had not been told anything at all. She’d been given the day off, and was home with Fenris.

“I’m sorry, Jen,” Sonny said for probably the thousandth time, unable to look at her. “I didn’t forget about you, I promise—the drink just turned my head to soup. I’m better now. I remember everything.”

Fenway, who had been maintaining a veneer of cold courteousness, finally cracked. She turned to him and jabbed a manicured finger at his crooked nose. “Mr. Farraday, kindly shut the fuck up and do your job. I don’t care what you do or don’t remember—as far as I’m concerned, we are strangers to each other. And stop doing that with your leg!”

Sonny fell still and pouted like a spurned puppy. “Right. Sorry, Jen. I won’t make any trouble for you.”

“Good.” She rolled her chair close to the table and clasped her hands together. “Now then, does anyone have any preliminary questions about False Smiles before I start speaking in earnest?”

“I do,” Jacob said. “This Green Meadows place, how many civilians and enemy combatants are in there?”

“We only have very rough estimates, but expect at least several hundred of each category. Do note that any adult person encountered inside Green Meadows is to be considered a Red Right Hand member and an active enemy combatant. Conversely, all children encountered are to be considered civilians and must be protected from harm, even if they are aggressive or refuse rescue. Don’t worry, your System nodes will automatically identify approved and non-approved targets.”

“Right, and how are the three of us supposed to extract hundreds of kids?”

“STF teams will be sent out once the operation commences, since there will be no need for subterfuge at that point. STF will arrive by helicopter, extract the children, and provide fire support if they are able.”

“Okay. And what happens if the S-Rank gets killed?” He offered a half-hearted pacifying gesture towards Sonny. “Not that I think that that’s gonna happen.”

“If the lead is killed or becomes unable to continue, your assignments will be updated to reflect this, and you will simply be asked to continue without him. If the operation becomes untenable, you will be asked to retreat and given base compensation.”

“Understood. Weapons?”

“Yes. The director has given you special dispensation for this assignment. Pistols, knockout needles for nonlethal takedowns, four-point cuffs. And bombs. A lot of bombs.”

“Nice.”

“Any more questions?”

“Yeah, I have one for him, actually.” He pointed to Sonny.

“Me?” Sonny gestured to himself, incredulous. “What about me?”

“Why’d you take this job? The only reason you joined Hero for Hire in the first place was for free booze, and now you’ve apparently quit, so… I don’t get why you’re doing this.”

Sonny glanced towards Fenway and quickly looked away. “I, uh… I’ve been doing a lot of things wrong for a long time. I thought, maybe… Maybe it’s time to start setting some of them right. If I can. As much as I can.”

“Very altruistic of you.”

He didn’t sound like he was lying, but Jacob didn’t buy it all the way. Was he hoping to gain Fenway’s forgiveness by doing a few jobs for her? Was that all it was?

Bob put his hand up. “Personally, I am nervous, excited, and a little afraid to be going on my first assignment.”

“No one asked you, Bob,” Jacob shot back.

*****

After the meeting, Jacob returned to the apartment and found Becca on the couch with the wolf stretched out over her lap. The black-haired beast took up all the available space, his front paws hanging over one end of the couch and his back paws sticking out the other end. He looked up when Jacob came in, but quickly settled back down when Becca gave him some scratches behind his ear. He let out a contented groan.

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He’s gonna get too soft to kill anything soon, the way she’s spoiling him.

“How did that go?” Becca asked. She was watching an old hero B-movie on the TV.

“It went all right,” Jacob said with a grunt as he struggled out of his shoes.

“Still can’t tell me what it’s about?”

“Afraid not. I would if I could.”

“When’d you go and become some secret agent man on me?”

He walked around the back of the couch, leaned into her ear, and whispered: “I’ve always been a secret agent. I work for the Dark Division. Don’t tell anyone.”

She tilted her head back and made kissy faces with insistent smooching sounds until he kissed her.

“Heh, nice,” she said with a smug look.

He had to give her another kiss for that.

Fenris was deported from the couch so Jacob could fit on the couch. Annoyed, the wolf went to chew on one of his shoes in the hall.

“Listen, Becca,” Jacob said, clearing his throat. The hero on the TV ripped some nameless villain’s head off with a big spray of fake blood, momentarily catching him out. “Damn, this is a gory one. But listen, I’m gonna be going on an assignment tomorrow morning. I should be back the day after at the latest. I’ll catch you up on everything then.”

“Will I get to see you off?”

“If you feel like getting up at five in the morning, sure.”

“I will! And once you get back, let’s go to your favorite food place.”

“You mean that sandwich place?”

“What, no? I’m talking about Lardo’s!”

“What the fuck is Lardo’s?”

She stared at him like he was an insane person. “Bro, is this a bit?”

“I swear this is not a bit. What the fuck is Lardo’s?”

“It’s your favorite food place, Jacob. We’ve been there a million times. You always get the cheeseburger with onion rings, and I always get that milkshake that’s so sweet it makes your teeth hurt. We haven’t been since you Snapped since your taste buds have gone all junky.”

Jacob had no idea what she was talking about. “Becca, I think you’re getting a touch of dementia in your old age. Seriously.”

“Dude, stop this!” She hit him in the arm and brought up her interface, scrolling through images. She brought up one of the two of them in a cramped diner. They were just little kids. “This is your twelfth birthday.” She brought up another one inside the same place. His face was all covered in pimples. “This is your fourteenth birthday.” Another one. “This is your eighteenth.” Another one. “This is your nineteenth.” Another one. “This is your twenty-first. There’s a bunch more. Stop fucking with me.”

Jacob went all cold inside. He had no memory of those pictures being taken. When he tried to remember those birthdays, he was only met with an incoherent jumble of images and hazy impressions. No matter how he grasped at it, there was nothing concrete.

Death is not the end, but beware its effects.

I’m forgetting things, aren’t I?

Dying makes me forget.

He suddenly remembered a dozen other times since he’d Snapped when he’d been unable to recall something. Just little things, like the name of an old friend from school, or the lyrics to a song he loved, or who had given him that ugly old houseplant that just refused to die. Mostly things from a long time ago.

Is it a coincidence? People forget things all the time.

But not your favorite food place.

Not where you spent five birthdays with your best friend.

I’m forgetting things. I am.

Jacob realized he’d been quiet for too long, staring into space. This time, Becca really was looking at him like he was crazy.

“Oh yeah, Lardo’s,” he said half-heartedly. “Just got a little confused. Didn’t they change the name at some point? I thought it was called, like, Lando’s or something.” He wasn’t sure why he had to lie. He just had to.

Because I can’t have her worrying about me.

She has to think I’m invincible.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. Now her big eyes only sparkled with concern.

“Nothing, Becca. It’s nothing.” He got up off the couch. “Look, I’m gonna hit the shitter, give me a minute.”

She shouted something after him, but he went to the bathroom and locked the door behind him. He paced back and forth in there, hands on his head, trying to keep his breathing from racing.

I’ve died twice. How much have I already forgotten? Have I forgotten anything important?

What happens if I keep dying? Am I gonna end up as the fucking Immortal Vegetable? How many deaths would that take? Is Becca going to be stuck caring for some fucking half-dead corpse in a hospital bed somewhere who doesn’t even know his own name? She wouldn’t leave me if that happened. I know she wouldn’t. And it would break her. It would ruin her life.

I can’t die again.

I can’t let it happen.

Never again.

“Jacob, what’s going on?” Becca asked through the door.

“Nothing, Becca. Nothing.” He forced his voice to come out normal. “I’ve just been tired from this new hero gig, that’s all. It’s been hard adjusting to it, y’know? I’m getting the hang of it, though. Everything’s okay.”

“You’re not okay. I know you’re upset about something. I’ve known you your whole life, you think I can’t tell?”

“It’s… nothing.”

“Talk to me, Jacob. You can talk to me. About anything. You know that, I know you do.”

“I know. Just not about this. This one thing. Will you please pretend everything’s okay?”

There was a long silence. “No.”

What else could he say? After some hesitation he unlocked the door, went out to her, let her hug him.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” she murmured into his chest.

“I…” The words caught in his throat like fish bones. “I think… No, I know. I’ve figured out what it means, that line. ‘Death is not the end, but beware its effects’.”

“What does it mean?”

So he told her.

And he hated himself for killing her dream.

Jacob hardly slept that night. He left early, before she had a chance to wake up.