Zero’s partner was dead. Officially. He’d watched them cremate her body not even two hours ago. Even though he’d ordered her to come back to him.

I guess even RIN couldn’t obey that order, he thought grimly. 

Zero raised a trembling hand to his chest, massaging the tightness in his chest absently as he observed his target. Technically, he was in no condition to be performing a mission. He knew it, Marissa knew it, Hektor knew it. But Hektor had asked anyway as part of the deal, and Marissa had agreed, so here Zero was, studying a blond man through the calcium deposits coating the bar’s windows. 

The mission was theoretically simple: access Findall Burton’s home and locate the files he’d stolen from Granera’s Faith Division. Zero’s eyes narrowed, a growl building in his throat. Hektor’s missions were always like this. Bloodless and simple. It wasn’t what he needed right now.

Zero squeezed his eyes shut and took deep, even breaths. He was done with missions after this. That was the deal. So if Hektor wanted to give him yet another clean mission, fine. As always, they'd left the details to Zero's discretion, so it wasn't as though he couldn't do this in his preferred manner anyway. He mentally flipped through the file on Burton one last time. The man was young, arrogant, and a misogynist. He preferred to prey upon older women, some of whom disappeared after, and others of whom found themselves drowning in debt. For Zero, with his illusion magic, a target like this was child’s play. 

Bony fingers grasped reflexively at the thin fabric covering Zero’s chest. The tightness hadn't gone anywhere, leaving him wishing he could reach through to his heart and still it. He didn’t want to be here. RIN was dead. Who gave a fuck about some idiot in a bar when his world was gone? His lips twisted bitterly. RIN was dead, but for the duration of this mission, he remained one of Marissa’s pet assassins. He would seduce and kill his target as always. 

It was time. He released his shirt and smoothed it absently, then sank into the illusion of a woman in her late forties. Dark but graying hair, pale lavender eyes, and modestly large breasts coalesced around him. With barely a thought, he added a faintly floral aroma, then adjusted his hips, widening them and dressing his thighs in sheer leggings and a somewhat desperate skirt. He finished with a faint scattering of wrinkles and entered the bar. 

“Hello,” he said, sending Burton a shy, hesitant smile as he slid into the empty seat conveniently next to his target. Zero had waited, subtly affecting the other patrons with illusions, until this seat became the only free one at the bar. Zero shifted, crossing one leg over the other, the back of his mind performing the rapid calculations needed to update the illusion coating him in real-time. He showed just the barest flash of pale blue lace, gone again before Burton could be sure he’d seen anything. 

The man nudged his chair closer to Zero and summoned the bartender with a nod and a smirk. A moment later, a bubbly drink full of fruits and alcohol appeared on the counter before him. Burton pushed it to Zero. “Hey, gorgeous. What brings you here?” 

Zero ducked his head, brushing illusionary hair back behind his ear. He made a show of nervously glancing around, frowning doubtfully at the drink, and then, when it had been long enough to start feeling awkward, he took a tiny sip of the drink. “My friend canceled on me,” he said with a little sigh. He studied the drink some more, sipped at it again, and then smiled in apparent relief. "What about you?"

They made small talk, Zero absently correcting his performance here and there as he saw what did and didn’t work on Burton. Before long, he finished the first drink and smiled appreciatively when Burton ordered him another.

It took him only a moment to realize that this drink had some manner of drug in it - the taste was bitter and burned the tip of his tongue. The world swam, and Zero fought not to laugh. Of all the drugs to get dosed with, he thought. Sleet, they called it. It was the drug of someone who preferred strength over subtlety.

In all fairness to his target, a normal woman probably wouldn’t have been able to resist it. Too bad for Burton Sleet was Marissa’s drug of choice, too.

Zero felt a wave of appreciation for his target. It was so nice of Burton to make this job more enjoyable for him. No matter how pleased he was with the drug, though, he had a part to play. Zero made a face. "This one doesn't taste good," he complained. He tried to push the drink away.

Burton caught it and returned the spiked drink to Zero. "Don't complain when the bartender gives you more alcohol than you paid for," he said with a laugh. "We don't want to discourage that kind of behavior."

Zero sighed and shot the bartender an annoyed look, then, pouting, obediently resumed drinking. By the end of the drink, his head was full of buzzing pleasure, and he fell against his target with a giggle and a sigh. 

All along, his mind kept up the illusion. 

“Ah, sry, lost my balance,” Zero slurred insincerely, rubbing his cheek against Burton and enjoying the tingling fireworks of sensation. Sleet meant he didn’t even have to fake it. It made everything feel good. He let Burton take him home, and he felt so good that he abruptly decided to maintain the act a bit longer. He let Burton undress and fuck him, altering his target’s mind enough that Burton never realized he was having sex with another man. Zero shuddered and moaned as wave after wave of pleasure assaulted him, and all he had to do was let it.

At last, Burton finished, and the man slapped Zero’s ass as he slid out and left to clean up. Zero writhed against the sheets, expression still slack and drool leaking from his lips.

The back of his mind went right on calculating. 

A laugh from behind him drew him back slightly. “You’re seriously out of it, huh? I was hoping you’d at least be aware enough to cry, but you don’t even know who you are right now, do you?”

Was it time yet? 

No, the part of him unaffected by the drug replied. Not quite.

“Well, what to do with you then… I have friends who’d like to get a piece of this, you know,” Burton mused aloud. “Course, I doubt you’re so obliging under normal circumstances, but that’s easy enough to remedy.” 

A hand suddenly grabbed a fistful of Zero’s hair and jerked his head back. Zero cried out, uncertain if he liked this new treatment. Everything felt good on Sleet, but that only went for physical sensations. Degradation wasn’t physical, and Zero mourned the slight clarity it brought back. “Well?”  Burton demanded, “You wanna go home or should I call some people over?” 

Burton’s lips twisted into a cruel smirk. “Not that I have to ask. Whores like you’ll do anything for just a little more pleasure.” 

The calculations ended. Zero’s mind mended itself back together, and he dropped the illusion. 

“What the -” 

Burton died before Zero was even aware he’d decided to kill the man. Not that there’d ever been any doubt that it would happen. This was the only thing he was good for after all. Zero stared at the body for just a moment, then licked his bloody fingers and started rummaging through the house.

It didn’t take him long to find the files, and then he found his clothes and put them back on. The smell of blood in the air was overpowering, making it hard to resist the urge to sink down beside his victim and revel in more violence. However, that background part of his mind told him he’d already passed the optimum amount of time expended on this mission. He settled for retrieving his blade before he stepped onto and over Burton’s cooling body. 

As he walked back to work, coated this time in an illusion designed to hide the blood covering him, he ran his magic through himself to burn out all traces of the drug. By the time he opened the door to the Faith’s main office, he was completely sober again. 

“Welcome back, Zero,” Hektor said with a friendly smile. It was nice of him not to show his disgust, but this was the ever-kind leader of the Faith after all. He probably had that smile magically fixed to his lips. “Did you manage to find what we were looking for?” 

“Yes.” 

The man nodded, accepting the file. “And you killed again, I suppose.” There was no upset in his tone, although it should have been a clean mission. No one sent Zero on a job expecting the target to survive. Hektor wasn’t so unreasonable as to expect the impossible, unlike the other two members of the triumvirate.

Zero just stared at him, waiting to hear the verdict. Was he free?

“Here then,” Hektor said, still smiling the same gentle smile. Zero supposed he would have to resign himself to losing the money he'd bet on seeing Hektor's smile drop. It was a tiny regret, one he was surprised to feel. He hadn't thought he had any attachment to his job with RIN dead, but he supposed even he wasn't completely isolated.

Hektor exchanged one file for another and held out the new one for Zero to take. “I secured Marissa and Sieg’s signatures. The moment you hand this to your supervisor, you’ll be relieved of duty and given a spot at West Granera University. You’ll be welcome back should you change your mind, but I, at least, sincerely hope you find a new life for yourself.” 

Zero blinked, his only reaction before nodding and taking his leave. 

The office was quiet for several minutes. Hektor stared first at the closed door Zero had just left through, then at the closed file on his desk. He ran a small pulse of magic between his hands and into the file and watched it curl up and smoulder until only ash remained. He swept the ash to the edge of his desk and into a waste can.

A panel in the wall slid over, revealing a passage and a brunette inside it. “Spying again, Claire?” Hektor asked fondly. She'd gotten better at concealing herself over the past couple of years. He hadn't heard or smelled any sign of her. If he hadn't been the one to grant her access to the catacomb of hidden passages within these walls, her sudden appearance might have startled him into an early grave.

Claire frowned at him. “What else am I supposed to do here? Father expects me to be useful, but you never want to use me.”

The words sent a sharp pang through Hektor's heart. He understood Sieg's reasoning, but that wasn't the same as agreeing with it. Unfortunately, as the head of both the Benefeld family and the Magic faction, Lord Sieg could use Claire as he liked. All Hektor could do was pay for a day with her on occasion to give her a respite from her usual life.

Claire looked toward the door. “Who was that?" she asked, to Hektor's surprise. She rarely questioned him so directly about his visitors. Seeing his curiosity, she flushed and said defensively, "He was hurt.” She rubbed her chest as though she, too, felt the pain.

“Was he?” Hektor asked, alarmed.

“Mhm. Like he’s lost an important part of himself.” The defensiveness died, and Claire's gaze remained drawn to the door the assassin had left through. Her voice was distant as she said, “He wants to go with her.” 

Hektor stilled. He watched the teenager, who didn't seem to realize that she'd just said or done anything unusual. He'd been told that Claire's magic would respond to Agent Butcher's, but he hadn't realized it would be so strong when they hadn't even properly met. At last, he sighed and rubbed his forehead wearily, his smile dimming. “He’s one of Marissa’s,” he told her. He smiled wryly at the girl’s immediate moue of distaste. She didn’t need any more explanation than that. “I hope if you see him again, you’ll treat him well, Claire. He’s suffered more from her games than most.” 

Claire hummed in response. As she left, ducking back into one of the passageways she loved exploring, Hektor finally lost the last of his smile and cradled his head in his hands. He’d set things in motion. “Was this truly for the best?” he whispered. 

The Goddess of the End didn’t answer, but then he hadn’t expected her to. She’d already impressed upon him the truth of their world. His only job now was to guide the pieces of the intricate puzzle she was trying to solve.