Melior est enim orbis terrarum

“For a better world”

Chapter 1: Ramen Noodles of Death

The rain drizzled lightly against the windshield of the black Lexus LC, peppering the glass with drops of water and shimmering like starry night sky anytime a car would pass. The car was parked tightly in front of a convenience store, between a commercial van and a small sedan. Across the street, I could just about make out the dilapidated apartment building through the raindrops. Behind me was a flashing sign, the light from which periodically lit up the file in my hand in a deadly red and caused the raindrops to light up in a brilliant display, like blood sprayed over my car.

I looked over the file somberly. No, that would be inaccurate. I didn’t really feel anything.

This was just another task. 

I sighed. Why? I’m not sure really. 

Tired? No. Bored? Possibly.

I threw the file back onto the passenger seat and stepped out of the coupe. The rain was light, but it would provide adequate cover. Just to be sure though, I pulled out my black U.S. Army cap and put it over my head, tucking my long, dark hair under the back. 

I locked the car and upon hearing the soft ‘click’,  I began to make my way across the street, . when I felt someone staring at me. It was a gut feeling, an intuition that could not be explained by science. While some people would ignore such a feeling, I could not afford such a luxury. Indifference to the feeling could simply mean death. 

I turned my head every so slightly to my right. On the street corner, maybe 100 feet away, was a group of four men with faces covered in tattoos and donned in hoodies. I could make out their features easily - , it would be an understatement to say I had exceptionally good eyesight. Not just eyesight, my every sense was enhanced.

Two of the men had disfigured noses, signs of a broken nose that had not set properly. I could faintly hear what they were saying. But that was irrelevant, I knew what they were talking about already, what they were looking at specifically. 

My car.

I knew it was a mistake to bring it, but it was one of the few luxuries I allowed myself:; having a nice car. However, it served a more serious purpose than just looks. Let’s just say it held a lot of secrets. The group began talking louder, making their intentions ever clearer.

Whatever.

 I had a job to do right now. I would deal with them later. 

I pulled my black North Face jacket up and pulled my cap down as I left the parking lot. I finished crossing the empty street and casually entered through the building door. There were two sets of doors, the second one needed either a key or it needed to be buzzed open. I could have picked the lock easily, but why waste effort?. Efficiency is key in my line ofto my work. I had been taught to work smarter rather than harder. Other than that I spotted a state of the art surveillance camera in the top corner of the small area. It was unusually out of place. In a poorly maintained building and area like this, there would only be one party interested in keeping a tab on who’s coming and going.

The Target.

There’s no way that he would be watching at all times, but there was still the risk that he would be alerted if any disruptive or devious behavior were to take place. I kept this in mind: the Target has some defence mechanisms in place. I need to be careful.

Usually I would do research on my targets days in advance. I would analyze their behaviors, habits, schedules, and overall lifestyle to find the most efficient and effective way of dispoensing of them. But this was an easy target. I had pulled up less than an hour ago, and all my research had been done out of a simple manilla folder. 

This would be an easy in and out. 

Getting easy was rather easy for me. There were 24 buzzers on the metal panel. I clicked each one. It took 20 seconds. I knew that in a neighborhood like this, people don’t usually care who comes into their apartment complexes. Out of 24, there is likely to be at least one person careless enough to buzz me in. I stood there for a moment, staring at the rot culminating on the walls, and the stains which decorated the carpet. 

Voices came out of the speaker. “Who is it?”, “Hello?”, “Yes.”, and other similar questions. Some were in English while others were in Spanish and one was even in Russian. 

Yes, I understood all of them. Besides having over a dozen languages drilled into mey in my youth, I’ve been to a great many places, seen a great many things, and done a many not so great actions. As a result, I spoke, read, and understood more languages than your even the above average person.

It only took a moment, but the door buzzed loudly and I grabbed onto the handle and pulled the door open. As I went through it, it came back fast and hit me in the back as it shut, causing me to stumble into the corridor.

Stupid door.

I made my way up the flight of stairs to the third floor. From here I spotted another camera at the end of the hallway. 

This complicated things. There was no way I could destroy the camera without alerting the target and there was no way I could hack it either as it was no doubt disconnected from WIFI. 

This inconvenience was agitating.

The floorboards creaked beneath me as I casually continued up to the fourth floor. I traced my fingers along the crusting paint as I approached the end of the hallway. 

I walked up to the window and looked out of it as I devised a plan. The camera proved that this guy was taking precautions, which meant that I needed to be more careful. If I had not underestimated my target I could have come better prepared.

“Adapt to your situation. If there is an obstacle in your path, make a choice. Do you go through it, or around it?” These words from my days in training echoed to me. It seemed I would need to think of a different way to get in. 

I knew from the file that there were a lot of computers in there. That many computers constantly running created heat. That heat had to be dissipated somehow. The guy could turn the AC up really high, but then it would be hard to sleep in freezing cold. A guy like him wouldn’t want to waste all that money on electricity either. 

So...

I began unlocking the latches of the window and pulled it up as it struggled against the change in position. It groaned loudly from its change in position. It probably hadn’t been opened in years. The cool outside air brushed against my hair, pushing a strand of hair into my view. I tucked it back inside my cap before putting my head out the window. 

I looked to my left, and there, only a few feet away, was an open window. 

My suspicions had been confirmed.

Why spend all that energy into cooling your room when you can just open a window? 

His shortsightedness would be his death. 

But I suppose he couldn’t really be blamed. Very often people often take away a sense of security in a single measure, at the cost of ignoring other variables.I wouldn’t say that this was an error through laziness or lack of care, rather it was a simple miscalculation. Because in the grand equation of solving for security, there was a silent, hidden unknown in that equation that the target just couldn't solve for. 

Me.

Even if he knew that I had existed, no matter what he tried to do, it still would not matter. It was like trying to go faster than the speed of light knowing Einstein's equation of energy. Just as it would take an infinite amount of energy to outrun light, it would also take an infinite amount of energy to outrun me. 

He may have felt that a simple lock or a few cameras were adequate for his security, but the window that he left open was like an open invitation to me.

I wasn’t one to refuse an invitation. 

The building was old: old enough that the exterior was built from actual brick. Over time the cement between the bricks receded further in, causing the occasional brick to jut out. I could make out a few from this window to the next. 

I know I said work smarter rather than harder. But sometimes smarter requires working harder. I would climb from this window to his.

But it wouldn’t be easy. The bricks would be slippery because of the rain. 

The situation took me back to an instance of the past. Waves crashing against the steep cliffs, a high wall in front of me, towering hundreds of feet up, and a drill instructor yelling in my face. If I could climb a cliff in the middle of a storm, I could no doubt scale a simple wall. I was an exceptional climber after all.

I carefully pulled one leg out after the other so that I was now sitting on the ledge of the window, looking out at the city before me. I had been here before. Just the occasional mission or two, but I always loved it. It was amazing in every way.  

I slowly turned around and climbed off the ledge, holding on to the window. The first brick was only an arm’s length away. I could find holds for my hands, but there was nothing for my feet to hold onto. I guess this will be an upper body workout for me. 

I reached out and grabbed the brick with my right hand and let go of the ledge once I made sure I had a firm grip. I was now hanging off the side of a building, nearly four stories off the ground, with a single hand. Thankfully the rain provided some cover for my already dark figure. I had to hurry up though before my luck ran out, I could not jeopardize this mission by having some curious neighbor interfering. 

While I had to accomplish this task quickly, I couldn’t do it at the risk of falling. I grabbed another brick, my left hand now holding the previous brick and my right holding on to the new one. My hands strained from holding on for so long, but I ignored the pain. I made sure I had a firm grip before moving onto another brick. 

I kept up this painstakingly slow process of moving from brick to brick until I was just a few feet from the window. I had to move both vertically and horizontally. 

But there was a problem. There always is. There were still a couple of feet left and no bricks where I could hold on to. 

I could either climb vertically then move horizontally until I was above the window, then jump down. 

Or I could jump from here to the window ledge. Neither option was perfect. I looked below me. There was nothing but grass. Better than concrete I guess. 

I decided to jump to simply get this over with. The longer I stayed out here, the longer I put myself at risk. My face scrunched up as I pulled myself up, tensing myself to jump across. Once my chin was leveled with my hands, I pushed off as hard as I could. 

To an observer I must have resembled a frog.

My hand slipped for just a second before I managed to grab onto the window ledge with my left hand. I grunted.

That was close.

I let myself hang for a second before pulling my right hand back to the ledge. I heaved myself up to the window and looked inside the apartment, not getting in yet. I had to make sure there were no traps, alarms, or cameras I would trigger. The lights were off, but the little light was more than adequate for my eyes, and all I could see were computers, monitors, and various other electronics scattered around. Wires protruded and connected in a maze.

Confident that there was nothing more I could discover from outside the window I slowly ducked and entered the apartment, fully immersing myself in my surroundings. I didn’t expect there to be too much to worry about, but I had to be sure. 

I made a quic, but thorough, round of the apartment, and, satisfied with what I found, sat down at the dining table; a small, circular table with two wooden chairs. The dining table had a vase of dying flowers and some empty mail on it. Most of them read “Notice”, “Overdue”, “Attention” or some variation of it. This guy was way behind on his bills. If only he did what he was supposed to and didn’t poke his nose where he shouldn’t, he could have had a longer life. Maybe even a good one.

Now was the dull part of my job; waiting. I looked at my red and black Ferrari watch, it was 8:47. I had a little time. I walked into the kitchen and looked through the cupboards. There was a whole cabinet filled with ramen noodles. 

Sad. 

I grabbed a few packets along with a pot and filled it with water and threw in the noodles.

It was 9:03 when I heard shuffling behind the main door and the lock open. I had turned off the lights except for in the kitchen. I heard the door open and footsteps coming into the apartment. There was a frustrated voice speaking loudly over the phone. It was only one person. Expected. Good.

I turned off both the stove and the kitchen light before the door was opened.

“I’m telling you, they probably noticed me sneaking around their server. I thought I was being quiet about it but I got a strange ping back; I need protection …  No, I’m sure it's not metadata, I thoroughly checked it… ”

“You’re not getting that hard drive until I feel safe.”

It took no expert to interpret what this man was feeling; a horrible blend of fear and anxiety; He was walking in anything but a straight line and was constantly fidgeting; His voice was in a different pitch and tone altogether.

“If I knew what I was going to uncover, I would have never agreed to do it.”

He walked up to the dining table and put his bag down. ‘He’ was wearing a baggy hoodie, ripped jeans, running shoes and had a bag slung around his oversized waist. He had a scrubble for a beard and large glasses. He looked like a stereotypical hacker.

 It was a wonder that he hadn’t noticed me yet. Yes, I was hidden in the shadows, but not exactly invisible. He was simply too focused on his phone call and his mental stress that he failed to notice me. 

But I did not interrupt him. I was gaining valuable information from him, all without me uttering a word. It was very interesting that he was able to figure out that the data he received was in fact not metadata but a sniffing attack from “our” end. Sniffing is a way of intercepting data sent over a network without being detected. The fact he detected it was impressive but it was now too late to do anything about it. He had reached the end of the line.

His skills were very impressive. A man of such capability should be leading his own software firm, not desperately scrimmaging for work. 

“It’s not something I can say over the phone. Look, just come pick me up, and I’ll show you what I found,” he said demandingly. 

He seemed to be frustrated with whoever he was talking with. It was assumed that he was working with someone as it would be realistically impossible to do what he did alone. What had only been a theory before was now confirmed; there were more players in this game. Finding out who he was working with was now a priority. 

Under all his frustration lay a deep confounded fear, I could see that he knew who he was dealing with. But more than that, he had another reason to be afraid.

I was here.

After setting his bag down he turned to head towards his bedroom when he finally noticed something different. 

He turned around frantically and laid his eyes upon me. 

“No…”, he mumbled into the phone. As he lowered it from his ear  I noticed a shift in his balance. He did not knowingly lower the phone, rather his action was an involuntary acknowledgement of his defeat, and inevitable fate. 

He stood there, frozen. No doubt he was going over his limited options in his mind. I could see him thinking. His brain was prioritizing quick spurts of action rather than focusing on logical movements. Fight or flight as they say, was taking place. He was no doubt thinking whether he could reach the gun in his bag before I could get to him. Of course he couldn’t. He should know that. Before he could even reach the bag I could end him. Maybe he needs a few words of wisdom...

“Don’t, it won’t help. Trust me,” I told him quietly. 

There was a voice coming out over the phone. 

“Give me the phone.”, I said simply as I extended my hand towards him. He hesitantly  handed it over. I cut the call and pocketed the phone. I’m rarely physically more superior, externally, than my targets or opponents. It's the instant fear that my presence drives into them that forces their cooperation with, and hesitation around, me. Maybe their souls sense the death I carry with me.

“Now the gun. Carefully, and with the barrel towards you,” I said confidently as he hesitantly complied to my orders. I took the gun, a Ruger Blackhawk Revolver, and tucked it around my waistband.

“So you’re with them. Right?”, he asked in a low voice as he stood there awkwardly. His phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled the battery out before pocketting it again.

“Them? Sure,” I replied noncommitedly as I looked up. He slowly sat down on the chair I had been sitting in earlier. The fear which had wrapped itself around him had now been replaced with a surrender to defeat.

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“So I was right then, you guys are real.”, he said, more to himself than to me. 

“I hope you don’t mind. I made us some noodles.”, I said, ignoring his statement. I turned away from him as I grabbed two bowls from the cupboard and scooped the noodles into them. I may have turned away from him, but he had my full attention. I was aware of every sound, breath, and move that he made. 

Never turn your back to a threat. 

Unless you’re me of course. But only because I know what I’m doing.

I grabbed two forks and put them in the bowls. Still facing away from him, I took a small vial of purple liquid out from my pocket and poured two drops into one of the bowls. I closed the vial and put it back in my pocket and stirred the noodles until the purple liquid disappeared. 

I walked back to the dining table with the noodles and put one bowl in front of him and sat across him with my bowl. I gestured at his bowl to him and began eating my noodles. He stared at the bowl quietly before saying suspiciously, “No thank you.” 

He was too calm. Usually people are not this quiet. Maybe he had accepted his fate. 

Mature move.

It was a good change for once. People, on a larger scale, in this situation have this unfounded sense that they can do something. What they fail to acknowledge is that my presence robs them of their ability to think, plan, act, and even to hope. 

“I insist,” I said.

 “Trust me, it's the easier way to go,” I added as I peered at him between bites. He slowly picked up the fork, gazed into the contents for a second, and took a bite. 

Half my mission was now accomplished.

“How old are you?”, he asked. A simple question. I paused for a moment and looked at him directly,  intently studying his face. I looked at every muscle, blink, and drop of sweat as I analyzed him. His eyes were appropriately locked on my face, studying me as well.  This was definitely a first. People are usually not very keen to pleasantries when you’re killing them. 

I was at a loss with what I was seeing. It was just plain interest along with the tension of the ordeal.  I didn’t see any harm in telling him. I didn’t see how that information would benefit him, but I’d indulge him.

“Seventeen.”, I replied.

“They use kids like you to do their dirty work?”, he asked sourly.

“Dirty work?”, I said with a small laugh, to which he responded with a tense glare. “No, it really depends on the perspective from which you choose to look at it. From mine, I’m doing the world - and you - a favor,” I replied. I did not intend to sound evil. I wasn’t. The comedy of our dialogue struck me. With so much right and wrong in the world, it really depends on how we choose to look at it. It’s the old argument of objectivity versus subjectivity. 

I had finished my bowl now, and he took bites every so often. 

What a sad last meal.

But he was thinking. His eyebrows furrowed for a second and he asked, “Do you even know why they sent you after me? Do you know what I stumbled upon?” He leaned back in his chair now, he looked tired.

“It doesn’t matter. Something you shouldn’t have.”, I replied. I suspected that he found something critical. Just discovering our existence did not warrant death. The world always needed a healthy amount of conspiracy theorists. No, he stumbled upon something dangerous, something no normal man was meant to see. But I didn’t know what that was, nor did I necessarily care. 

“It does matter. Do you even know how many people will die?”, he said. His words were beginning to get slurred. Within a few minutes, he would be gone. 

Die? From what?

I didn’t know, I never know. I was an operative for my organization, not a member. As such I only did what I was told to do. 

I got up and grabbed both of our bowls - his was only half finished -  and threw them in the sink. As I came back from the kitchen he loosely grabbed my arm. “Do you even know my name, or am I just another face you forget,” he asked. He was sweating profusely now. 

He was wrong. I never forgot a face. 

Ever.

I pulled my hand away from him. “My name is Xavier,” he said softly as he closed his eyes. 

“What’s your name?”, he asked. Those might have been his last words. With his dying words, he asked for my name.

“Adam”, I replied softly. I don’t think he heard me though. His breathing had become too shallow. He would be gone soon.

I made my way to his computer station. Before me were four monitors connected to one sizable CPU. I sat on his chair and pulled a thumb sized USB out of my pocket which I proceeded to insert it into a USB slot. 

It took a moment, but the virus began its work. Line by line all the data began erasing itself. This would only take a short time. 

A guy like this, who stumbled upon something so big wouldn’t just leave everything on a simple computer. No, he was smarter than that.

I got up from the chair. 

There must be another hard drive somewhere. But where?

I began the process of carefully rummaging through his clothes, drawers, cabinets, under the mattress, under the sofa, and anywhere else I could think of. Even in a small apartment like this there could be so many places to hide something. 

But what if he didn’t hide it in his apartment?

I went back to the dining table and opened up his leather bag. After rummaging through its contents for a bit, I found what I was looking for. A small hard drive. 

So this was why he died.

What was in here?

Whatever it was, I needed to destroy it. 

Did I?

This hard drive and the phone I now had would surely be enough to at least hint who the employers of Xavier - this Target - were. There was no point in asking him. Whoever hired him would surely be smart. Smart enough to keep their distance from him. But this was of no real concern to me: my task was done. I would turn the phone over to my employers, and what they decided to do next would be at their disclosure. 

I came back to the computer to see that the virus had destroyed all the data and began the process of burning out all the hardware. 

I pulled my USB and moved back as sparks flew before all the hardware burst in flames. 

Now the only remnant of the data was in my hand. I felt its weight in my hand. It felt heavy, heavier than it should have been. 

I decided to hold onto the hard drive, I can't quite explain why. I would deal with it later. Maybe I would just end up handing this over also. 

I was done here. I went to the kitchen, on the way grabbing a newspaper from the dining table, Xavier’s body - no, the body - was now limp. I grabbed the toaster and put the newspaper in before turning it on. Then I went to the stove and turned the gas on on all of the burners. I would have to make it seem like the target, and all the evidence, died as a result of the explosion. Grabbing my jacket from the counter, I made my way to the door. 

I unlocked the many different and intricate locks, opened it, and was halfway out the door before I stopped. I turned back and made my way back to the dining table. There, I stood upon Xavier’s body. 

I sighed. This was why I never learned names. It made the job so much easier.

I reached my hand out, hesitating briefly before shutting his eyes closed. 

I quickly made my way down the stairs and on the way I found a fire alarm. I pulled it as I made my way out of the building. Behind me a shrill siren erupted as tenants poked their heads out of their apartments in confusion. 

“There’s a fire upstairs! Hurry, get out!”, I shouted to them in fake panic. 

I made my way towards my car with thoughts running wild in my mind. 

What did he mean by all those people dying?

Why did he tell me his name?

Did he have to die?

What the hell is on this hard drives?

Why do I have so many questions?

I was between my car and a Ford Expedition when something hit me hard in my side, knocking the breath out of me and pushing me into the Ford. 

Never get distracted on a mission!

By wasting my time with  these dumb questions, I forgot about the group of guys from earlier and didn’t even notice them approach. I knew it was them even before I saw them.

No doubt these guys were here for my car. 

“Juss gimme the keys, bro. And we’ll leave you alone.”, an annoying voice snarled out. 

Definitely.

“Yeah, no, here.”, I said in the weakest voice I could muster as I got up. One of them, the one who had hit me I assume, as he was holding a wooden bat, was a two feet while the other two were a few more steps back. I could make out three. I didn’t know where the fourth one was, but I would make quick work of these three. 

I extended my hand with the keys towards the one with the bat.

I had three choices:

Give them the keys - I would lose my car. Not a chance.

Kill them - It would add unnecessary suspicion. Nope.

Hurt them - It might add suspicion, but people don’t snitch to cops in a neighborhood like this.

I chose to hurt them.

As the guy with the bat came in to grab the keys from my hand I dropped them and grabbed his extended hand. Using his momentum against him, I guided him straight into the other croney, knocking them both down.With two of them on the ground, the third now came at me. He was only a few feet away, but I saw him before he even got close. He had pulled out a pocket knife and pointed towards me. Very few people had the skills to effectively wield a knife. He wasn’t amongst them. 

As he came towards me with the knife, I grabbed his wrist - you have to disable their arms - and twisted, making him drop the knife. With his arm still twisted, I brought my left arm down on his elbow - hard. 

His bone snapped like a twig with a satisfying crunch. Sadly his bones did not splinter and jut out from his skin, but he was disabled. He went down writhing in pain. 

The two I had knocked down earlier had now gotten up and I could see them planning to charge at me. I quickly picked up the bat from the ground and was about to get into a fighting stance when behind the two men the apartment building erupted in a huge explosion, lighting up the rainy night. The sound was deafening. 

Seeing the explosion and connecting me to it, the two rethought their strategy and both retreated, leaving the man with the broken arm to slowly crawl away from me. The two didn't even try to pick up their injured confederate. 

No loyalty. Absolutely disgusting.

I still did not know where the fourth man was, but what I did know was that I needed to leave, now. I had been here for far too long. I couldn't have anyone noticing me or connecting me to the scene. 

Actually, it was too late for that. Many of the tenants who had evacuated the building had just watched the ass-whooping demonstration I just put on. 

Shit

I needed to get away, fast. At least I was hidden from any cameras. 

I picked up my keys off the asphalt and quickly sat in my car. The engine roared to life as I quickly pulled out of the parking lot and accelerated down the road. 

A few minutes later I halted to the right as police cars, ambulances, and fire trucks furiously sped past me in the other direction. As soon as they passed I resumed my journey to my destination. My side hurt - a reminder of the consequences of my distractedness. I don’t know how or why, but that guy, Xavier, got to me. 

I needed to think. I drove north now, heading towards the city. The water always calmed me, I don’t quite know why. I also needed to inform Home. I pushed the throttle further as I merged onto Lake Shore Drive.

I pulled up outside the Adler Planetarium and parked my car on the side of the road. It was late now, but there were still a few people around. I got out of my car and walked down the grass to the lake. The drizzle had stopped but the air still hits my face with its chilled resonance. I walked down the path until I could no longer see the cars and could only see the city and the lake. The lights on the buildings twinkled like stars in the distance.

Chicago is beautiful, I love it here. I find it to be an amazing city not just from looks alone - as many other cities could be considered its rival - but because of the rich history and resilience it conducts which gives of an empowering effect. Even now in the light fog it looked like a hidden gem. But if people knew all the things I knew about this city, they wouldn’t want to live here. But that goes for any city I have to visit. I breathed the cold air in as the waves lapped against the walkway. It was high tide, the water almost met my feet. 

Strange. I felt like it was inviting me in. 

A girl giggled on my left, a pleasant sound that filled the otherwise silent night, as her boyfriend whispered something in her ear.

Could I ever have something like that? 

No, I was a monster. In the rare circumstances that people got to know me, they either left me or they got hurt. This scene that would usually be just another itinerary of life to someone normal but to me it passes over me like warm air over a cold front; resulting in nothing more than a violent storm. So I was reduced to superficial feelings and relationships. 

It wasn’t that I couldn’t understand feelings such as love, fear, or hate, I just couldn’t feel them to the same extent as other people. I understood the concept of it, but rarely the emotions of it. I don’t think I was born this way. While I don’t have concrete memory of it, I suspect that I was chemically stripped of the ability when I went through what was called the “Initialization Process” when I was younger. For me to feel love, hate, regret, or fear requires a stronger physical arousal. I was essentially made to be their proverbial hunting dog. The Process was  my leash. 

One part of the mental Process that I remember is a scene of of me being securely bonded to a chair one would find in any torture chamber or sci-fi media. There were tubes and medical monitoring devices that were connected to me and in front of me there was a glass viewing station. On the other side of the glass was a table with a simple doll sitting on it. It looked to be a plush doll made of cotton and it had no face. 

Now when I think about it, that was done on purpose to signify any female. The hair was black and it wore a simple blue blouse. Then I was pumped with an extreme dosage of phenylethylamine, a stimulant released when the body falls in love, to induce feeling towards the doll. My body quivered with the sudden rush of dopamine released and happiness was flooding inside of me from everywhere. The euphoric, energetic effects were so intense I started to drool with desire, intimacy, and exuberance. All my feelings of that love was directed to that doll. 

I loved that doll more than anything else in my world. I would kill anyone and destroy anything that contained matter to be with it. I would sacrifice myself as many times as needed to protect that doll. 

Now when I think about it I laugh at myself sardonically. I feel that it was a message to me from them; that the only thing I was able to love was not even alive; I didn't deserve anything like that nor should I ever expect it. 

The memory continued as, suddenly and without warning, someone wearing a full white suit which completely blended into the white surrounding came and stood behind it. I was completely taken by anger. No one deserved my girl but me. Next thing I knew, it pulled out an ax. Time seemed to slow down as my pupils turned into two small dot in my wide eyes. I knew what was going to happen but no matter how much I tried to squirm, fight and yell, nothing came of it. 

I had gone through similar, but slightly different ordeals each time. First it was the chopping, then burning, then ruthless smashing and torture. They endlessly did the most horrific things to the doll and forced me to watch the entire thing. I couldn't even shut my eyes.

My brain had been hit so hard by the trauma that in order to preserve itself, it employed it's defence mechanism. It split off the problem which was emotion and feelings and in the process my brain become incapable of producing the hormones and chemicals necessary for any of those emotions to manifest.

I feel that had I not mentally willed myself to maintain my humanity, I would have become a soulless beast or a mindless automaton. After they were done with me, over the last few years I have carefully mended myself. I fought to retain a sense of individuality while at the same time being completely loyal to my employers. It was a constant battle, but one I chose to fight to retain my sanity and humanity. But my employers can never know any sign of this. That’s why I rarely think too much about it, and hide everything behind a dam I have built in my mind. 

A dam which now has a small crack. Thanks to Xavier.

Regardless of the efforts of my employers, it seems that I still maintained some emotions. Emotions such as pity, mercy, and annoyance. Was this deliberate on their part, or accidental? I’m not sure. But I feel like it overall compliments my abilities. Thanks to these I retain some element of humanity. 

I can’t fully explain it. While I don’t necessarily crave love, I do desire a need to belong. We all do. I just haven’t found a fulfilling purpose. Killing people isn’t exactly fulfilling.

As such, I haven’t loved or been loved in a long time. 

I just wanted someone to look at me like she did at him. 

Was that wrong?

No, it was just dangerous.

Ugh. I don’t know why these thoughts are going through my mind. I let myself get too close to my target this mission. 

That guy, Xavier.

Why did he have to die. He seemed like a normal guy. What did he find that merited death?

These thoughts were almost heretical. I didn’t usually allow myself to indulge in such questions. But what if I needed to ask them? What if I deserved to know? 

Almost as if in response my phone rang.

I was ripped out of my thoughts as I pulled the phone out of my pocket and looked at the caller; ‘Home’. 

Oh crap, I had forgotten to report in. I take a deep breath and make sure that I am fully composed. No need to share my internal thoughts with Home.

 I stared at the phone second longer before picking it up.

“Yes?”, I asked.

“Hey, honey. Why haven’t you gotten back to me? You know how I get worried,” the calm, almost sweet voice asked over the phone. I instantly knew it wasn’t genuine.

Why was she talking like that? Maybe she was with people.

“Yeah, no. I was just about to call you,” I replied.

“How was your time with your friend? How is he?”, the voice asked. Her tone was different. Besides being so obviously fake, it had an edge.

“Oh yeah, he’s fine. He was just sleepy so I left,” I replied hesitantly. Something was wrong.

“Is there anything else I need to know?”, the voice asked kindly, but I knew she was serious.

“The target made a call before I intervened. It’s possible the recipient has some knowledge. I picked up his phone”, I replied, dropping the code talk. I didn’t need to do it.

“Thanks for letting me know. I'll have the phone picked up from you and then I’ll sort it out,” the voice said kindly.

How? Another operative?

I’ve always wondered that. No doubt there were more operatives. But were there any like me? Kids?

“Anything else I need to know?”, the voice asked. There was that edge again.

Did she know about the hard drive? 

Should I tell her?

Why was she so suspicious; what was in there?

I don’t know why, but I decided to keep the hard drive. But I would have to lie. Could I lie to her? No. I just wouldn’t tell her about it. That’s not lying. 

“I just got into a little trouble. But I’m fine.”, I replied. 

“What did I tell you Adam? You either don’t get into trouble or you don’t get caught doing it,” she said in an almost motherly manner.

“Yeah, I know.”, I replied. She was annoying me now. Why couldn't she just speak clearly? I hated code talk. 

“Do you?”, she asked speculatively as my phone buzzed. It was a message from her. I clicked on the notification and it opened up to a video.

I internally swore to myself. 

The video was of me fighting the three men in front of my car. I could see myself throwing the first guy into the second one and breaking the third’s arm. The video continued until the explosion happened, at which point the camera zoomed to the apartment. The video ended and disappeared - probably deleting itself. The way the video was filmed made me look, quite accurately, like the arsonist. 

Now I knew what the fourth guy was doing. It’s possible he was just casually watching until things went south, at which point he decided to record it.

“You have to be careful, you know honey. You don’t usually have mishaps like that.You can’t endanger yourself like that,” the voice said. When she said ‘yourself’ she meant the organization. 

I was done with this code talk. What was she trying to prove by sending this video?

“It was a mistake, I underestimated him. What did you do with the guy and the video?”, I asked, my tone almost annoyed.

“Adam, we didn't bring you up to make mistakes. As for the guy in the video,” her voice became quieter, “a friend of mine in blue dealt with him. Let this be a lesson, Adam. I hope you don’t get distracted again, we do what we have to do. And why do we do what we do? ”

“Melior est enim orbis terrarum.”, I murmured to her. 

“What was that?”, she asked.

“Melior est enim orbis terrarum.”, I replied louder now with more confidence. 

“That’s good to hear,” there was chatter on the other side of the phone, “I’ll call you tomorrow. Look Adam, you’re not a machine. I don’t know why you’re pushing yourself like this. This is your fifth consecutive mission. Relax, treat yourself to something nice tonight. Your mistake aside, you did pretty good,” she said as she cut the call,

A cop? I’m not surprised.

But ‘let this be a lesson?’ I needed to be careful.

Yes, it was my fifth mission in a row. The reason that I’ve done so many missions nonstop is because recently I have been thinking too much. And not the healthy kind. That’s why I try to keep myself as busy as possible. It keeps me distracted. 

Speaking of distraction...

I pulled the hard drive out of my pocket now. It’s dark color blended in with that of the water, hinting at the ocean of secrets that it could hold. 

Maybe I should just throw it. 

Maybe. I put it back into my pocket. I decided to hold on to it, for now at least.

I pulled out my phone and went to my photos. I only had a single photo in there. 

“Melior est enim orbis terrarum,” I murmured to myself again as I looked at the image. The small eye in the triangle stared back at me before I put my phone back into my pocket and stood there silently, staring into the distance. I felt much better.

For a better world