`“You look good Ben,” I said, staring across the empty office.

My gun was on the floor, laying just out of reach on the drab, government carpeting. Besides the glow from the flatscreen, desktop in front of me, the only other light came from the mostly blacked out Washington DC skyline visible out of the floor to ceiling windows just to my right. A stark green glow rose up from the industrial sector, tinting the washed out the night sky. I spoke slowly, my eyes spotting his shadow crossing the room. “It’s been a while.”     

“Keep you hands up, Lizzie,” Ben said, his voice was stern and harsh. Squinting, I could just make out his imposing frame across the room, partially obscured by a bank of stark shadows from the harsh lights of the computers filling the room. As Ben crossed under one of the lights, I could just make out his gun. The surprise in his posture indicated I was the last person he was expecting to find. “Don’t even think about it.”

I brought my hands up higher, lacing my fingers behind my head. I didn’t want him to see my hands were shaking. I could honestly say I wasn’t expecting for the organization to send him in, they were definitely playing dirty.

 “I’m going to have to bring you in, Lizzie,”  he said, taking a cautious step in my direction; his gun was aimed squarely at my chest, ready to fire. I could just hear the soft shuffle of his feet on the soft carpet over the hum of the computers which filled the large office. Ben’s voice was cold, only a slight waver evident as he continued. “Don’t make a move.” 

 “I don’t think you’re going to be able to do anything from over there.” I said, cracking a small smile in his direction. Despite his imposing six foot frame, I could always get the right leverage on him, even when we were kids. He knew I was the better fighter.

“They just want you brought back into the fold, Lizzie,” I could see a sad smile cross his face. “That’s all.” 

“To be tortured and killed no doubt.” I spit out the words, my eyes narrowing to spot him in the splotchy darkness of the room. I raised my voice slightly as I briefly lost him once again, my eyes quickly scanned the shadows of the room in order to spot him. “Don’t bullshit me on this Ben. I’m not some kid who doesn’t know how things work... I was brought in before you.” 

This clearly wasn’t the response he was hoping for. Ben reemerged in my vision, slowly circling around me. I could see his knuckles were white around the butt of his handgun as he crossed through another patch of light. He was wearing a tank top and a pair of snug cargo pants, it was what he always slept in. Judging by his ruffled caramel colored hair, he must have been pulled right out of bed. As his eyes looked over me, his voice cracked with emotion. “Why are you doing this, Lizzie? Why go rogue?” 

As he continued to cross behind me, I caught his eye. He looked me over with his wide, blue eyes. I had a soft spot for those eyes, combined with his usually tousled hair, he had a wide-eyed, school boy handsomeness about him. He had the soft, flawlessness of a special forces Ken Doll.  

I sucked in a nervous intake of breath as he pressed his cold gun barrel to the base of my skull. 

I took a moment, making sure my voice was calm and free of emotion as he slid his hands over my body, pulling the switchblade I carried in my thigh holster from out of my reach. “I know you don’t understand, but this is something I have to do, Ben.” 

I could feel his breath on the back of my neck as he spoke in a low whisper, right next to my ear. “Why, Lizzie? Why are you doing this?” He ran a gentle finger over the puffy scar running the base of my neck as he spoke and tucked my switchblade into one of the pockets of his cargo pants.

I exhaled slowly. Every hair on the back of my neck standing on end at the soft nature of his fingers against my nerve packed skin. 

He grabbed my arm from behind my head and twisted it into an armlock. I arched my back, trying to relieve the growing pressure on my elbow. Pain shot through my body. All it took was the right amount of pressure to snap an adult arm like a twig. 

I spoke cautiously, my voice wavering slightly as a jolt of pain shot through my body. “Do you know how many completely innocent people they…we’ve killed?” I turned my head, trying to meet his eyes. 

His grip on my wrist lessened ever so slightly. I knew I had caught him by surprise. His voice softened as he continued, “No one is innocent, Lizzie.” His voice had a stark clarity to it, 20 years under the dome of the Institute had banished all sense of black and white from his conscious. “You of all people should know that."

I could feel his warm breath on the back of my neck, as he searched my body for more weapons. Feeling I had to capitalize on the moment, I threw my head back. The sickening crunch that followed told me that I had hit my target.

Ben’s gun thudded to the carpet and skidded out of arms reach as Ben's hands flew up to shield his probably broken nose.

I spun around, managing to grab the gun from the carpet before he could react and reach for it himself. “On…on your knees, Ben.” I snapped, pressing the gun to the back of his head. 

“Fuck,” he said as he lowered himself to his knees. Blood was streaming down his face, staining his white t-shirt around his collar. He stretched his arms out to his sides, his fingers splayed widely. His eyes showed a combination of betrayal, with a little fear mixed in. I could hear his breaths coming in short bursts. 

“Get on the ground.” I gestured with the gun. I jammed my knee into the back of his, causing him to drop the rest of the way. Reaching into his back pocket, I wrapped my fingers around a zip tie, and snuggly secured his wrists behind him once he was flat on his stomach. 

He strained his neck, looking up to meet my eyes as I circled in front of him. He spit out a mouthful of blood onto the carpet in front of him. “You might as well just kill me and get it over with.” He was talking to cover that he was scared, his eyes betrayed what he was thinking. He spit out a mouthful of blood. “We can’t…we aren’t going to let you get away with this.” 

I closed my eyes, centering myself against the wash of emotions which crashed over me momentarily, stunning me into silence. 

“Ben!” I pounded on the cloudy glass, I knew led to Ben’s bedroom. I turned around, my knees buckling against the brick facade of the Old Hart Building. His window opened up onto the student courtyard. The combination of the full moon and the decrepit, dying foliage scattered across the grounds cast vivid life-like shadows. I turned back towards the window, the wind was causing the shadows to move with an uneasy fluidity, every fiber of my training tingled with suspicion.

There was a crack of thunder above me, followed almost instantaneously by a bolt of lightening which lit up the dark green tinged rain clouds above my head.      

“Jesus, Lizzie.” 

I looked up towards the window; Ben was staring over at me from the ledge. By the look of it, I had woken him up. He took a moment to look me over, before helping me through the tiny square window. 

“What the hell happened?” He asked, shutting the window behind me after I had shimmied my way through the tiny opening.“That’s not your blood…” He said, his eyes immediately fixing on the stains covering my shirt. 

“No,” I said. I dropped my rickety shoulder bag on the floor, and moved towards the bathroom. “It’s not mine.” I said, as I stepped onto the cool laminate, pulling the door shut firmly behind me. 

As soon as I was alone, I ripped the formerly pink button down shirt off my body. I could hear the buttons bouncing of the dated plastic tile with a quiet plink. Wadding up the shirt, I threw it into the tiny plastic trashcan in the far corner of the room.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My wet hair was limp; my make-up was streaked down my face. 

With the warm and sticky shirt peeled from my body, I could finally breathe normally.  I braced all my weight against the cheap linoleum counter. I squeezed my eyes closed, putting all my effort towards slowing my breathing, which had been racing since I left the mansion. Beside my breathing, the silence in the room was deafening, leaving the pounding of my pulse the only thing echoing in my ears.

I ran my hands under the scalding water from the tap. The torrential downpour outside had already washed off most of the blood which coated my hands. The burning sensation was the first thing to take my mind of the feeling of the blood on my hands.  

I opened my eyes and turned, deliberately avoiding my reflection, as I heard the bathroom door quietly open behind me, “Things go south?” Ben’s voice was quiet. He stood in the doorway for a moment, seemingly afraid to approach me. 

​“It’s nothing.” I said sharply. Nausea was bubbling in my stomach. I glanced at the toilet, suddenly worried I was going to vomit.

Ben’s expressive blue eyes were wide with concern as he finally took a few tentative steps into the bathroom. He placed a hand on the small of my back, “Would you like to talk about it? I know that look.” His voice was gentle and prodding. His fingers flitted over my body, deliberately avoiding the bullet scars on my chest. “Something is bothering you.” 

“I wanted to see you,” I replied, turning to face him. I forced a calm, easy smile across my face. It was no different then the one I had given to dozens of other targets. In fact, it was probably one he should have recognized.“That’s all.” 

“Why do I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me?” Ben said, wrapping his arms around my waist; he pulled my body tightly into his, swaddling me securely. His eyes were glued to my face, studying every detail intensely, searching for insight into what I was feeling, and that he knew I wasn’t telling him. He held me tightly to his body, “Christ, your shaking.” He buried his nose in my hair. 

I closed my eyes, breathing the fresh smell of his aftershave deep into my nostrils, before I looked back up into his eyes and flashed him a soft smile. We always talked about everything, usually in more detail than we should have, but I couldn’t find the words to tell him that I was scared to death. “I missed you.” My fingers slid under his t-shirt, slowly working at the waistband of his grey sweatpants. 

He sucked in a soft intake of air at the feel of my fingers, and flashed me a small smile. As he backed me into the bathroom counter, he hiked my snug pencil skirt up around my waist. He stopped and met my eyes, “You really aren’t answering my question.” 

Blatantly ducking the question, I wrapped my legs around his waist, closing my eyes as his fingers fumbled with the clasp of my bra. As a feeling of relaxation flooded over my tense muscles as he unhinged my bra. I closed my eyes, exhaling sharply, as we fell into a heated kiss.

Kneeling down in front of Ben, I looked into his eyes. I pressed the barrel of his gun up underneath his chin. He winced, and closed his eyes. I could see him swallow back a look of panic which crossed his face. Taking a beat to collect himself, he opened his eyes and looked back up at me. Despite the iciness of his voice, his eyes were wide with fear. “You might as well pull the goddamn trigger.” 

I quickly blinked back a look of surprise, in all the time I had worked with Ben, I had never seen him show his emotion to such an extent when it came to a mission.

He forced out a shaky breath, but his voice was confident. “Just pull the trigger, Lizzie.”          

Breaking eye contact with him, I stared at the gun in my hand; my finger was wrapped securely around the trigger. The normally lightweight gun felt unusually heavy in my fingers as I cradled it in my palm. I jammed the gun further into his jaw; Ben bit back the pained grimace that reflected across his face. 

Looking into his eyes, my index finger wouldn’t curl around the trigger. My stomach was telling me how much I needed to pull that trigger. What was worse, I knew Ben was expecting me to pull the trigger.  

“Fuck.” I stood up, tucking his gun into the elastic waistband of my pants. I shifted my glance back down to Ben.

I could see bobbing flashlights in the stairwell, and with each passing second, they were getting uncomfortably close to the door.

Ben spit out another mouthful of blood. “I can't let you get away, Lizzie.”  His words were garbled, like he spoke with a mouthful of marbles. He probably had a mouthful of blood going down his throat.

“I love you, Ben.” I brought my foot down on his head, his body slumped to the floor unconcscious. 

I took one last look at him as I jogged toward the exit. The bobbing flashlights were getting brighter in the darkness of the stairwell, and a quick glance through the bulletproof glass showed a platoon of military grade tactical helmets within meters of the door. 

Not choosing to shoot my way out against a hoard of government secret police, I jogged toward the floor to ceiling windows along the western edge of the building. The office was on the seventh story of the dated office building, I took a quick look at the pavement far below me and said took a split second to center myself. It only took a sharp elbow to break the cheap glass, I dropped out the window, onto the fire escape I knew was a floor below me against the building. 

As I hit the pavement, rolling to absorb the force of my landing, I took a quick look up and down the now deserted Pennsylvania Avenue. Once the hub of the city’s business and government sector, most of the massive office buildings had fallen into disrepair. What windows weren’t smashed out, or covered with graffiti were boarded up securely. The few which were still in use were walled off with a massive security infrastructure. 

Just up ahead, a military humvee lazily chugged down the street. I grabbed the gun out of the waistband of my pants. There couldn’t have been a patrol too far away. 

I pressed my back against the building, taking cover against the harsh yellow streetlights which lined the pothole riddled stretch of pavement. I kept Ben’s gun wound tightly in my fingers and at full extension in front of me. The only audible sound was the dated engine of the humvee. It seemed to be shrouding any noise from any nearby security patrol. 

So, I dropped into a crouch and waited as the pops and sputters of the engine gradually faded into the distance, only to be replaced by a deafening silence. 

Up ahead, just passed Old Constitution Avenue, I could just make out the cement blockades walling off the Green Sector. 

Taking its name from being a part of the old Metro System’s ‘Green Line,’ the Green sector had absorbed the lesser privileged population of the District after the economy collapsed in on itself. Thrilled to put a lid on what they saw as an annoying problem, the government had put the Green Sector under severe control and military guard, walling off the population from the rest of the city, and creating a cesspool of poverty, misery and civil disobedience.

As the District deteriorated, the government relocated from the heart of the city as it had been for 200 years, to a secret, highly protected bunker somewhere  in the dense forests north of town. In a surprising, but sadly predictable move, Congress had declared themselves to important to stay in the rapidly deteriorating environment of the Blue sector. 

Before the economic collapse, what had become known as the Blue sector was the North Western quadrant of the District of Columbia. The quaint residential area was made up mostly of cute little row houses and brownstones. It was a haven of the upperclass, home to most of the city’s wealthy who chose to stay in town. 

As I jogged through the quiet streets, I was keenly aware of the blood pounding in my ears. Combining that with the sound of my feet on the wet, glistening pavement, I was surprised the military police weren’t already down on my case.

I heard a low buzzing growing louder as I jogged through the streets. I stopped, pressing myself to the brick facade of the crumbling National Archives building just as a surveillance drone buzzed over my head. It was just above the level of the buildings.

Climbing the cement blockades isolating the Green Sector, I stopped to survey block. Curfew was in effect at the late hour, and I was alone.  I tightened my ponytail and pulled the hood of my sweatshirt up over my head. The temperature had plummeted in the last few minutes, an icy wind was blowing in from the river. 

I stepped over a pile of trash, which had been turned into a smelly mulch from the lengthy stretch of rain which had been hanging over the city for the last few days. I let out a stifled yelp as a rat darted out from inside the pile of black goo, running between my legs out into the middle of the deserted street and into the shadows. 

I paused in the middle of my step. The sound of my feet on the pavement was the only thing around me, creating the illusion that I was alone. Just above me, the red light from a security camera was blinking rhythmically in the darkness. 

As I turned down what had used to be an upscale, residential block, the mental picture of Ben’s eyes were stuck in my head. All of the brownstones were boarded up and appeared deserted. The biggest one on the block had been burned out. The charred remnants of furniture littered the torn up and muddy front yard. A mud spattered powder blue blanket blew from where it was snagged on the snarled branches of a tree.