Avanti woke up thirsty. This was the first night in weeks that she had been able to come home, and then only early into the morning, after she had decided and informed them that she would accept the transfer to research. They had offered her Agent training -- almost immediately after, in fact -- too soon, too soon, she had said. But it didn't matter anyway, she had long stopped being interested in that role.

The glass she kept by her bed was empty. She would sleep through it. She wasn't so thirsty that she couldn't sleep through it. She would... no, no she wouldn't. She sat up and rolled, slowly, towards the edge of her bed.

As she walked past her desk on her way to the kitchen, her monitor woke.

"You have four new emails, Avanti," it said softly. "Would you like to read them now?"

"No, not this time, save them for the morning," she mumbled.

She flicked a switch on in the kitchen, and shielding her eyes from the immediate glare of the lights, she groped for the faucet. As her eyes adjusted, she put the glass underneath the flowing water and noticed a white envelope on the counter.

It wasn't hers. She knew she hadn't put it there. There was no label on it. No address; not even a name. She covered her nose and mouth and lifted it up to the light. She could see through -- it was Katya's handwriting. When did she leave this for me?

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Ripping through the envelope she recognized the oft-recited phrases from the Agent's handbook. In Katya's thin, scrawling script, it went:

I am an Agent of the Global Confederation of Nations. I serve the free citizens of the G.C.N. I will find and neutralize our enemies from within and without our borders. It is my duty to defend, my responsibility to protect, and my honor to sacrifice.

I am the scalpel of the Confederacy. The most important mission is the one chosen for me. For only I can complete the assignment; there is no one else that is able to do so. It is inconceivable for me to retreat. It is impossible for me to lose. I will let nothing stop me from fulfilling my objectives. I will succeed and the G.C.N. will be victorious because I refused to fail; because I will complete my mission, at any and all cost.

Avanti looked back into the envelope to see if she had missed anything. But she hadn't. That was it; that was all. She turned back to her room, puzzled. Maybe she would check her email after all.

"Lights," she murmured, as she stepped back into her living room where the monitor was waiting for her patiently, knowingly.

As the lights came on, she instinctively went to cover her eyes again. She had forgotten that they had already adjusted, and without the bright glare to blind her, she could only gasp and let the letter slip out of her stiffened hands as the full sight of her clean, ivory walls came to her now, from the ceiling to the floor, dripping with dark, red blood, it said:

THIS IS ALL I KNOW. THIS IS ALL I KNOW. THIS IS ALL I KNOW. THIS IS ALL I KNOW. THIS IS ALL I KNOW. THIS IS ALL I KNOW. THIS IS ALL I KNOW. THIS IS ALL I KNOW. THIS IS ALL I KNOW. THIS IS ALL I KNOW. THIS IS ALL I KNOW. THIS IS ALL I KNOW. THIS IS ALL I KNOW. THIS IS ALL I KNOW. THIS IS ALL I KNOW. THIS IS ALL I KNOW. THIS IS ALL I KNOW. THIS IS ALL I KNOW. THIS IS ALL I KNOW. THIS IS ALL I KNOW. THIS IS ALL I KNOW. THIS IS ALL I KNOW. THIS IS ALL I KNOW. THIS IS ALL I KNOW. THIS IS ALL I KNOW. THIS IS ALL I KNOW. THIS IS ALL I KNOW.