Before long, our missions became more dangerous and more complex. I knew that this was unusual for a team as young as ours, but Mac insisted that our track record spoke for itself. We received our first kill mission just before I was due to formally graduate I had conflicted emotions about the assignment. I knew that kill missions came with the job, but they were few and far between. They were even less common when one of the teammates was still a pledge. It wasn’t like we escaped every mission without taking some casualties. Our very first mission had been proof of that. But a hunt where the very purpose was to take another human life, the knowledge that for us to succeed, somebody had to die? I couldn’t stomach the thought.

The week before we were scheduled to leave was more hectic and intense than usual. Henri programmed the simulator in our training arena for kill scenarios, setting the rubric for situations similar to the ones we’d likely face. The holographic images were incredibly life-like, and when one landed a blow, a jolt of electricity ran through my body. Our trainings were more somber, more serious than usual. The collective mood of our team weighed heavily on me since I absorbed the feelings of both boys.

Henri and Erik had been on several kill missions in their time with the Hunters, and neither was eager to repeat the process. Henri tried to treat the assignment like any other, but he couldn’t keep the darkness from his mind. Erik, usually so good at pulling off a nonchalant, carefree attitude, tried to keep the sickness that he felt tucked away in the corners of his mind, but sometimes, it slipped out.

For my part, I was secretly glad to have something all-consuming to take over my thoughts. The more that I thought about what we were about to do, the less that I thought about Donavon. And anything that kept my mind off of Donavon was a good thing.

Henri painstakingly walked me through every detail of the laboratory where we would carry out our mission. He explained that the target worked late, alone in his lab. We should be able to get in, complete the mission, and get out before anybody discovered the body. Henri had a complete bio on the target, but I couldn’t bring myself to read it. I told myself that he was a threat to TOXIC, and most likely a Crane supporter. He must be a very bad man. That was all that I needed to know.

Henri spent the night before we left in D.C. with Frederick. His mind had been distracted all day with thoughts of mortality and the prospect of never seeing Frederick again. I kept seeing flashes of past kill missions, some that had gone right and some that hadn’t. I realized for the first time how close Henri had come to being captured on more than one occasion. Of course, I had heard of horribly botched missions and near misses, but feeling Henri’s fear, as if it were my own, unnerved me. I finally understood the enormity of the situation. Any initial relief about this mission being a distraction quickly dissipated.

I wasn’t the only one feeling it. Erik also felt the weight of Henri’s past experiences mingled with his own. He radiated a desire to feel alive and connected with a person outside of TOXIC, a person who had no idea what he did or who he was. When he got ready to leave for the city that night, I wanted to beg him to stay with me, but I knew I had no right. It would be selfish and unfair of me to deny him the opportunity to find what he was so desperately craving, particularly when I knew that Henri’s thoughts and feelings were not the only ones that he was absorbing.

I’d noticed in my weaker moments in practice, my fear and trepidation reached a boiling point and spilled over to Erik, his mood would plummet even further. I tried to keep my thoughts to myself. I knew firsthand that shouldering the burden of others’ emotions—especially when compounded by your own—was exhausting. But sometimes my feelings were just too intense to contain, and they burst free into the only outlet that I had: Erik.

That night, I didn’t want to be alone. No matter how many times I told myself that what we were doing was necessary, I couldn’t shake the leaden feeling in the pit of my stomach. This man probably had family or friends, somebody that would miss him. I kept going back and forth in my mind. From: What could he have done that was so horrible that he deserved to die? to He supported Ian Crane.

After tossing and turning for half the night, I decided to go and knock on Penny’s door. I only made it as far as my own before I heard a soft knock. I paused, not trusting my ears, and waited to see if the knock came a second time. It did. I opened my mind—Erik. I slowly opened the door with my powers. He was leaning against the door frame. His dark hair hung in his bloodshot eyes, and his shirt was half untucked from his jeans. I drank in his disheveled appearance and thought that he had never looked better.

“You’re awake,” he slurred, his eyes lighting up.

“You’re drunk,” I replied, matter-of-factly.

He grinned, “Can I come in?”

I swept my arm in a welcoming gesture and Erik stumbled in, headed straight for my bed. He flopped down on the comforter, leaving his feet dangling off the side. I stood uncomfortably in the middle of the room. Since moving to the apartments, we’d had little social interaction. I saw him every day, but we hadn’t been alone, just the two of us, since the incident with Donavon.

“It’s very purple in here,” he observed.

“It’s my favorite color,” I replied lamely.

“Makes sense.” I failed to see how any part of this situation made sense.

“Erik, what are you doing here?” I asked bluntly.

He raised himself up on one elbow and tried to tuck the too-long strands of his hair behind his ear. He didn’t respond. I nervously chewed the inside of my lower lip and willed him to say something, anything.

“Don’t want to be alone,” he finally said in a low voice.

“You could’ve stayed in the city if you didn’t want to be alone,” I tried to keep my tone light.

“True,” Erik conceded, “but I didn’t want to pretend that I was having a good time and that tomorrow was just like every other day.” All of his normal bravado was gone. His eyes were unguarded, making him look uncharacteristically vulnerable.

I nodded, “Okay.”

“If you’d rather I leave….” He started to get up.

“No, no, don’t leave,” I said too quickly, making a move towards my bed. “I don’t want to be alone, either,” I added quietly.

“I know,” he answered.

I really didn’t want for him to leave. Any feelings that I may have had for Erik in the past aside, I really wanted to be near somebody. I told myself it could be anybody. I moved slowly towards my bed and sat on the edge, careful not to touch Erik. I could feel my heart beating in my throat, and hoped that Erik was too drunk to notice. He was still propped up on his elbow, and he reached out with his free hand and took mine.

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“Thanks, Tals,” he whispered.

I smiled nervously, not meeting his eyes. His vulnerability stirred something inside of me. I was seized by the desire to comfort him, but I refrained.

He released my hand and reached behind him, grabbing two pillows and throwing them to the opposite end of the bed. He kicked off his shoes and flipped his body around so that his head lay at the end of the bed. I crawled toward the headboard and curled up so that my toes wouldn’t be too close to his face, even though his much larger feet were resting on a pillow near my head.

I closed my eyes and tried to relax. On the one hand, having Erik here satisfied my need to be close to somebody, easing my tension. On the other hand, having Erik there elicited feelings that I thought no longer existed, creating more anxiety.

Something tickled the sole of my foot, and I instinctively kicked out. Thankfully, Erik’s drunken reflexes were still much faster than most normal people’s sober ones, and he grabbed my foot before it made contact with his more sensitive areas.

“Tals, it’s your bed, stretch out,” he mumbled. “Besides, you’re only half a person, so you barely take up any room.” He laughed at his own not-funny joke.

I gave another small kick, but he still had ahold of my foot. I stretched out my legs and, even though my bed was plenty big enough for both of us, he held on. Erik cuddling with my feet had an oddly comforting quality, and I fell asleep almost instantly.

When I woke up the next morning, I was immediately aware of Erik’s absence, and for some reason, it made me feel even more alone. I quickly packed my mission bag and headed for the hover-hangar, my whole body a rope of tightly-kinked knots.

Erik and Henri were both waiting when I got there. The tension in the air was palpable. Nobody spoke. Erik’s vulnerability from last night was long gone, replaced by a confident mask that concealed his strained psyche. Henri was all business. His demeanor lacked Erik’s confidence, but contained none of his nerves either. He was cool and collected, and he had cleared his mind of the slideshow of fears that had been playing there all week.

I curled up in my seat, closed my eyes, and concentrated on turning off my mental abilities. I managed to reach a meditative-like state, with all of my energy focused on my sense of touch. My fingers traced the contours of the quilted seat cushion, counting the thread. If Erik or Henri thought my behavior was weird, they didn’t let on. I honestly didn’t care either way; I couldn’t handle their feelings on top of my own. It was easier to block them all.

We changed into our adapti-suits on the plane and strapped on our weapons while still on the plane, since there would be no time to waste once we landed. Erik smudged adapti-paint on my face, making my skin blend in with my suit. It provided my entire body the ability to meld with the surroundings. We needed to complete this mission very quickly. Once we were on the ground, we’d have two hours to jog the ten miles to the village, do a quick check to verify our intel, complete the mission, and get out. Kill missions were too risky to linger in the vicinity for very long.

We landed in a small clearing and deplaned in silence. I immediately opened my mind to establish our mental connection, and we jogged off into the surrounding woods. I could feel both boys’ minds buzzing with concentration. The suit regulated my body temperature so that my body didn’t sweat, but that same couldn’t be said for my face. I had to resist the urge to wipe at the excessive sweat so as not to rub off the adapti-paint.

The jog was not strenuous, but the physical activity helped to take the edge off. At least it did until the village came into view. The surroundings became familiar from the surveillance footage, and my case of nerves returned two-fold. I pulled at the neck of my suddenly too-small suit and gulped air, struggling to get enough in my lungs.

“Talia, I need you to focus. The sooner we get in there, the sooner we get out. Okay?” Henri’s voice was not unkind, but contained an edge that told me I needed to get myself under control immediately. He was right. I gritted my teeth and concentrated on slowing my breathing. Erik placed one gloved hand on the nape of my neck and applied just a shadow of pressure.

“Be strong, Tals. You’ve got this,” he encouraged.

I took one last deep breath. “I’m ready.”

The laboratory was on the edge of a small village just over the border, in Coalition territory. Our best shot at finding the target alone was at work in his laboratory. We didn’t have the luxury of waiting until dark; we needed to catch him before he left for the evening. Our suits and face paint allowed us to blend easily into our surroundings; unless somebody was fairly close, or looked really hard, they wouldn’t notice our presence. However, I still felt exposed as we moved through the village.

The laboratory was a long, sprawling one-floor cement building. We took cover behind a dumpster not visible from the street. Henri worked quickly to get the imaging devices out of his bag and take heat images of the cement building. Erik and I crouched over his shoulder, watching as the images appeared on the tiny display screen. The concrete was thicker than we’d imagined, but we were still able to pull faint images and confirm that the target was inside.

“Ready?” Henri asked.

“Ready,” Erik confirmed.

“Ready,” I echoed, not feeling ready at all. Erik’s words rang in my head. Be strong, be strong, be strong, I chanted to myself. You’ve got this.

I followed Henri and Erik up to the front gate. I held my breath while Erik punched in a ten-digit code. The lock on the gate soundlessly disengaged, and Henri pushed it open just enough for us to squeeze through. Henri took the lead and we flanked his sides. I reminded myself to breathe as we jogged silently up to the main entrance. Once inside, we navigated the maze of hallways to where the target was supposed to be. The interior walls were the same thick concrete as the outside of the building. I suddenly realized that there were probably more people in the building than we’d seen on the imager. My thoughts were confirmed when two men rounded the corner at the end of the corridor. The hallways were too narrow to hope that we would go unnoticed, even if we flattened ourselves against the concrete walls.

“Erik, take the left. I’ll take the right. Talia, move on to the target,” Henri ordered.

The men didn’t see us until it was too late. Henri and Erik attacked in unison, catching them by surprise. I ran through the middle of the fight and continued to where we’d seen the red outline on the scan, indicating the target. I found the room easily and turned the knob, but it didn’t budge. Putting my other hand on the door, I envisioned the locking mechanism. I mentally disengaged the bolts and felt the knob turn in my hand. I breathed a sigh of relief, and pushed the door open.

A short, balding man sat behind a large table full of vials and contraptions all holding different colored liquids. He looked directly at me, and dropped the vial that he was holding in his hand. I didn’t know how many more people might be in the building, but I didn’t want to find out. I froze the vial to suspend it in midair before it could shatter on the floor. The guy could see me, but was having a tough time focusing on me since the suit and face paint were obscuring my appearance. I moved slower than I should have towards him, reaching for one of the knives in my belt.

“TOXIC, right?” the man stuttered.

I didn’t respond; I couldn’t have formulated words if my life depended on it. My tongue felt thick and heavy, filling the small space between my tightly clenched jaws. A sour taste ran down the back of my throat. I continued toward him. He backed away as I advanced, knocking over vials as he went. I wasn’t fast enough to mentally catch all of them before they hit the ground—so much for not attracting attention. He continued to retreat until his back slammed into the far wall of the room. I quickened my pace until I was right in front of him. He fell to his knees by my feet, holding up his hands to shield himself. My reflexes took over and I pounced, pressing my knife to his throat.

“No, please, no,” the man begged.

I reached to my belt with my free hand and grabbed the syringe holding the poison. I gripped the syringe so hard that I could feel the skin over my knuckles go tight. The same panic that had seized me outside of the warehouse took over my body again. My chest heaved in and out as I tried to catch my breath. I felt a burning sensation in the corners of my eyes and willed myself not to cry.

Noting my hesitation, the man started to get up. I pushed the tip of the knife harder against the pale skin of his neck, penetrating the flesh and drawing blood. I closed my eyes and shook my head, trying to erase my misgivings. The man shrunk back even further, pressing himself into the wall. A large hand closed around my hand that was holding the syringe. The hand forced the syringe into the man’s bulging blue vein and depressed the plunger. I watched in horror as the man’s dark brown eyes dulled and then rolled back as he slumped to the floor. The hand pried my fingers away from the syringe that I was still holding.

“Let go, Tals.”