Never these steps felt so heavy to climb. There are days where he regrets the decision of living in the 13th floor apartment. But the view, compensates for the effort. He scrambles through the keychain while catching his breath until he unlocks the door and lets the height of his body open it. In the dark, Bryan feels for the switch in the wall and flick it up but the light was still out. He grunts, lean on the wall switching it on and off waiting for a different result, when a scratch familiar voice startle him.

- I’ve been waiting for you.

The silhouette of a man sits at the kitchen table. His still and straight posture denounce his position in this society.

- Sorry to break in like this. I know we don’t get along very well, but I need you to listen to me. I have something very important to tell you. Please… — the man motions for him — Take a sit.

Bryan feels an acid sensation going down his throat. The uniform wear by the man shows that you do not need to work side by side with this type of people to recognise them has the authority figure. These agents are set in group of three and patrol the streets, but this one was alone. Bryan force himself to let go the door handle, the only thing keeping him grounded and attached to the existence of the outside world. The door shut, and a wide smile appears on the Agent face, before they are left alone in the dark.

Seconds pass and a faint blue light hovers over them. To Bryan, these blind seconds were an eternity, and the fact he is now face to face with this enforcer, is enough to make his heart jump. They are examples of perfect citizens so their image needs to translate that ideal. The first thing Bryan notice is the man’s hair. Long with a greasy texture that reflects the light. A strange peculiarity, even by the law.

- Bryan Tudor. How was your shift today? Tired?

- Yes. It was a busy day at the factory. — He massage his shoulders to release the tense look of the Agent over him. An eternity of seconds wash over and he waits for the man to break the silence. — C-can I help you, sir?

The Agent rubs his thumb on the lip, hiding the pleasure he is having from this small interaction.

- Can’t I pay a visit to an old colleague of mine?

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

- Of course… Do you want something to…

- Sit. Down! — His voice that was soft turned into a rigid one. — Ever since we were kids I had an odd feeling about you. Finding ways to be surrounded by people. You can fool them, but not me. So I am not surprise… — he tilt his head and went back to use his soft voice. — I am going to need you to give me the names, Bryan.

- The names? The names of what?

- Of my mom’s book club friends. I’m an Agent! What fucking names? I know you meet them last night.

- I don’t know what you are talking about.

- The names of the Leaders.

- After my shift I went to the market to buy the vegetable for the salmon…

- I don’t care about your culinary habits. I want their names, Bryan. I know what they are planning. I know you know. I know how much you were part of it. Freedom givers — he chuckles — They are going to cause a wound in this society. Violence over…

- Then arrest me!

For the first time words came out of Bryan mouth with confident, that he even raise his chest.

- Arrest you? — the Agent eyebrows rise. — I can’t arrest insignificant people. How will that make an impact on this society minds? No Bryan, I need the heads. Not you — he chuckles and pass his hand in the chin. — You have the heart in the right place, but the mind is not align. You are not going to make a name out of yourself. You weak. So much you make me have pity on you. I pity you Bryan. But I can help you. You want to make something of yourself, a martyr, then do the right thing. I need the names Bryan. — the Agent reach to his hand in a gesture of comfort. — we can’t choose how we live, but we can choose how we die.

Bryan looks to the darkness, where a comfort object hangs in the wall. That pressure over his shoulders grip his muscles. To long he has carried this burden.

- Ahlex Priddy — he mumbles between his lips — Kohren Bilal. Taraia Igna.

The smile in the Agent face wides with each name and the pride of a successful mission.

- Did you hear that?

- Affirmative — a voice is heard over a com. — Sending the team to their residential area.

- Copy that. — The Agent then turns off his communicator. He puts it over the table and stands up.

Bryan chest burns and he wants to puke so much his skin turns white.

- Now that we are alone, I have to say…

- You’re a monster!

The Agent control his reflex. A subordination like that is calling for a beating

- If I’m a monster, then what will their families say about you?

He leaves Bryan with the though and walks to the darkness of the flat, fixing the lightbulb, illuminating the small apartment.

- You have an unscrew lightbulb. I’m glad we spotted before it could catch fire. I am going to have to fine you for poor maintenance.

He scribbles the number 100 on a small piece of paper and leaves it in the table. Bryan did not even look at the small paper. Instead he takes note of the smiles and faces of the people in that comfort object, hanging in the wall.

- Why?

- Because, those are the rules.