If it even would be a conversation. It could very well end with him as a smear or a pile of ashes thanks to some ingenious, but nefarious, piece of weaponry. He’d anticipated this confrontation for a while. He’d even thought, during those tense first weeks, that his superiors would send Doctor Damien as a very odd ‘this-is-your-death-sentence-present’.

After all, it wouldn’t have been very glorious to die in his sleep via a sheet rope around his neck. But finally dying at the hands of his first and longest lasting nemesis? That would have been a downright poetic, if not cinematic, ending.

But this wasn’t a death certificate from his old bosses. They would’ve revealed Jacob’s identity if it was. And the doctor would never pass on an opportunity to rub that in his face or somehow work it into a taunting monologue.

This was what qualified as a house call in their line of work. He hadn’t been active in the field for a few months, because he was retired, so the good Doctor had decided to come pay him a visit for some god forsaken reason.

Jacob finally pulled his head away from the cool glass and turned around to face the helicopter that was still hovering between apartment complexes. People were leaning out of their balconies with phones held aloft. He could’ve afforded the highest penthouse the city had to offer, but he liked to discreetly people watch. Now he was paying for it with immediate and eternal recordings.

He held onto a scrap of naïve hope that none of them were livestreaming, but considering how his luck normally panned out, perhaps he should drop the optimism and wave to the good people of social media.

He didn’t want to look down on the street. The honks, raised voices, and louder cusswords were painting a vivid picture regardless.

His eyesight had become a little dulled in recent years, so he couldn’t quite make out the details of the man hanging on to the side of the open cabin. But he trusted that it was the criminal mastermind he’d hunted on and off for the past twenty years. 

Oh, good God, he really was old.

He signed back to the man ‘Not today.’

“Aha! Confident as ever Agent 200. But that will prove to be your undoing. For I, Doctor Damien, have devised a clever scheme from which—”

‘No,’ Jacob firmly signed, ‘I mean not today or any other day. I’m not going to defeat you, because you’re someone else’s problem now. I’m retired.’

He probably could’ve been more direct with his signing. He wasn’t sure how well Damien could read it while floating in midair from dozens of yards away.

Apparently, not very well by the confused “…What?” that resounded between the buildings.

Jacob could hear sirens now. He amended his earlier plans to go to the park today, since he’d be too busy being boarded up in his apartment, pretending he had nothing to do with this.

‘Retired. Me.’ Jacob pointed to himself firmly. ‘Go. Away.’

“Wait, what? You can’t be retired!”

‘Here I am. Retired. Done. No more thwarting for me. Go use your idea on someone else please.’

There was a sudden ghastly screeching and hissing noise that was loud enough to make him flinch away. Most of the people on the opposite building covered their ears. One poor guy dropped his phone to the pavement below, and his scream was almost louder than the feedback.

Garbled patches of words fought to be heard first as Damien presumably kept clicking the wrong button for his output. Jacob could guess some of what he was saying by the way he was flailing his arms about his head.

He started forward when it looked like Damien might just gesticulate enough to propel himself out of the aircraft, the blasted idiot, before the Doctor gathered some shreds of sense and leaned backward towards relative safety. He remembered how to use the device and shouted, “This is an outrage! You can’t just be done! You’re not an old man with a pension, you’re Agent 200! Now stop ignoring me and come hinder my plots! You and I haven’t had a satisfying ending to our relat—stance as nefarious enemies. And I absolutely refuse to have you throw in the towel as a possible acceptable outcome to our rivalry!”

That was rather an impressive amount to say over speaker. But Damien was long winded when he was in a good mood to begin with. Seeing him this riled up made Jacob highly suspect he’d start having circular tangents in the next few minutes.

‘Sorry, don’t know what to say. Not in the business anymore, I’m going inside now.’

“Don’t be ridiculous! Who ever heard of a spy that retires? You’re too good to give up the game! Who’s going to stop me from—”

Whatever Damien had planned was cut short as Jacob shut the door behind him. He could still hear indignant squawking, but it was deeply muffled under the thick panes. The quiet delight of the morning had evaporated and condensed into exasperation.