There is no one in the streets.
I am now in a suburban, semi-deserted part of the city.
I adjust my sunglasses on my nose and look down. Sunlight irritates me, but it's not the only thing. I am clean and alert. I have nothing in my system and my receptors have always been more animal like than human: they are sharp and fine. Probably the result of the many years spent doing the job I've always done and the years after that, chasing refugees and then escaping Shield henchmen.
Not a sound, not a noise caused by human beings within my range.
Of course it would be a different matter if there was a sniper around.
I know that there's no one around but at the same time I'm also sure that there is someone and that that someone is watching me.
I am under fire.
They are monitoring me.
It could be a refugee or someone sent by the Confederation, or Tears or any other person driven by revenge.
After all, I can't keep track of all those who would like to see me six feet under.
No matter how many people will state the very opposite, I can assure you that my brain works. I stop and close my eyes. I take a deep breath and lean against the wall of the house next to me.
- There is no one, - I tell myself out loud.
Another breath.
I open my eyes.
I stare in front of me, but I cannot resist.
I jump and my right earring faintly lights up.
A leap and I reach the roof of the opposite house. I begin to run at breakneck speed, jumping from one roof to the next one, from a lamp post to the next one, and I don't know for how long I run in the cold winter air with the aid of magical air currents. I only know that I eventually land on
the balcony of my house. Or better, the balcony of the place where I live now. The window of the living room is always open, and I close it behind me. I lean against the window frame out of breath.
- Sin, you can use the doo... -
His sentence is cut off by the blade of my katana which is now at his throat.
He doesn't move and stares at me, he's serious but calm.
I stare back at him, I'm still out of breath. The katana between us twinkles in the afternoon light coming from the glass door.
- Do you recognize me? - He asks.
I don't say a word. Of course I recognize him, but can I trust him? Damn it, I know I can trust him! But the katana doesn't move away from his throat.
He smiles slightly and raises his hand to slowly remove the blade, holding it between his thumb and forefinger.
- You are safe here, remember? - He asks.
- I'm not safe anywhere in this or the other fucking world, Tom! -
He smiles. - So you do recognize me! You're feeling better than I thought. -
He ignores me and goes to the kitchen.
I sheathe the katana and massage my temples. I try to relax but I can't help looking around me. I realize I'm casting glances everywhere, but it's always better to just look around me than running aimlessly for hours.
I follow him in the kitchen.
I sit down and, without even looking at him, I know what he's doing.
The sound of the cabinet. Running water. And then he puts my medicine box and a glass of water in front of me. I snort. He sits next to me and looks at me smiling.
- Come on, I don't think you'll have to fight today, and if we have to hire new refugees, it's my job as usual, isn't it? -
He's right. And I know it. It's my plan, for crying out loud, of course I know it!
But that doesn't stop me from throwing dirty looks at the neuroleptic capsules.
I put my elbows on the table, I take off my sunglasses and I rub my eyes. - I can manage even without them. It's not serious, it's just a light seizure. -
- Sin... -
I lash back. - NO! - I scream. Then I freeze. Back again... Don't give in. You can control yourself even without those damned drugs.
He doesn't move an inch for two good reasons. Well, maybe three. The first one is that he's used to being around me. He's seen me in far worse conditions than this, and me raising my voice and snapping means nothing to him. The second reason is that, although I'm probably the most feared assassin in the world where he comes from (and the second was my colleague), he doesn't fear death. Nope. And that fascinates me.
For example, I'm afraid of nothing. I'm always convinced that the world is going to attack me and devastate me in a collective beating, but that's because of my paranoid disorder. Mine is not fear, it's a constant state of alert that devastates me psychologically and physically. I can never relax, I can never open myself with anyone because I doubt everyone.
In short, I don't fear the beating, but I'm always sure that it's going to happen any moment and I have to be on the ready.
He, instead, just does not fear death. He gave up on his life a long time ago, when I was sent to kill him. That day he died. He is no longer the master of his own life. I've spared him in exchange of this: his life.
Why is that?
Because I am not able to work alone. I need a partner. I've always worked in pairs. But no one could replace my former colleague so I needed someone who was not my equal, but under my orders.
In other words, a slave.
****
I hear the engine revving up and down at breakneck speed according to the tested gear. The row of trees along the road looks like a brown stain topped by a green one.
Electra is sitting in the front seat and she's humming a tune I don't recognize. I'm in the back seat, clinging everywhere. - Tears! - I scream. - If you go any faster, we'll go back in time! -
He chuckles. - I said we had to test it. If I go at 20 km/h, how do I know it won't break down on us during a chase? - He steers to the right and I roll, slamming against the left door.
They pass me a pack of gums. - Do you fancy one, Sunshine? - Electra must be the most peaceful woman in the world. It almost seems like she was delivered on a Formula One car. During a race.
I decline. - No. No, thanks. I'm too busy trying not to have a stroke. -
A little further on I see an old stone bridge. Give or take the passage must be pretty much as wide as the Leon.
Electra smiles. – What do you say, Tears, should we test the alignment? - She asks in the same tone one would ask you if you'd fancy a cup of coffee.
- Why not? - And with those words Tears leaves the steering wheel and crosses his arms, grinning. My blood falls to my feet. I really feel it flow in my shoes as if it was looking for an escape route.
I hang on the seat. – I once saw a similar scene in a movie, Tears! - The bridge is just a few meters from us. - They didn't make it! - I flatten down between the seats.
I don't hear any crash but I roll again, clashing everywhere. This means we spun out. When I get up we're in neutral and on the other side of the bridge. Tears gives a friendly pat on the steering wheel.
- Perfect! -
- As always, - she says. - Thanks for driving me back. - She gets out peacefully and gives me a nod from outside the window. – Bye bye, Sunshine! -
She then heads to a nearby parked black, lowered Alfa Romeo Mito with tinted windows.
I'm all disheveled. – B... bye. -
****
- She's your girlfriend, right? - I ask.
- I don't do girlfriends, - he answers.
We're heading back home. I just recovered my wits after the race. - Sure, and you named your beloved car after her as a sign of friendship, right? - I am referring to the letters printed on the back of the Leon. The first time I wondered if he had given a name to his car, but now that I met Electra, I understand why her name is printed on the back of the car.
He raises an eyebrow. - She put the name there. This car is one of her creations and she wanted to sign it. -
I grin. - C'mon, I can see it in your eyes that she's your woman. -
He rolls his eyes and rests his left elbow on the open window. - If you could see through these eyes, you'd curl up in a corner and cry. -
I snort. - Can I know why are you so emotionally impaired, Tears? - He ignores me and continues driving. I try again. – Don't you believe in love? -
He represses a laugh. - Sure. I believe in love and I believe in cancer. They are both diseases. -
I snort again. Sometimes there is no dialogue with this man. – Do you take notes when you watch macho movies and then repeat the cool lines? -
This time he's the one snorting. - Look, Countess, there is a thing you have to learn about life: people come and go, but they don't stay. It's useless to get attached to anyone, sooner or later they'll fuck you up. -
I remain quiet and think about it.
- Did you suffer some kind of trauma during your childhood? - I ask.
We're entering the garage. – I'll give you a trauma if you don't stop minding my business. -
I grin. - I think I found a chink in your armor. When you die, it will be for the love of someone. -
- Fuck you, – is the only answer he gives me.
****
- Your session has expired. Please log-in again search again. - I read on the computer monitor. - What the hell was I looking for? - I wonder.
Every now and then I feel a bit like that guy in the movie "Memento."
I shrug. I log back into the Confederation's database and search for the name Electra Mesis.
One result found in the database.
I smile. I was sure about it.
That intricate tattoo is made of all those marks that they put onto you when you complete a mission for the Confederation.
I try to access her personal files but the data is restricted.
I grumble and throw myself back on the chair. I decide I deserve a beer, so I get up and head to the kitchen.
When I cross the living room, I see Tears sitting on the couch with some papers in his hands, staring at me. I ignore him and proceed to the kitchen. The kitchen is separated from the living room only by a counter on which we have lunch, so he keeps staring at me.
- I could swear I've seen you somewhere, - he says while chewing the back of a pencil in his hand.
- Well it's likely, I've been living here for about three weeks. - I open the fridge and check inside.
He puts his papers down on the couch. – Right, you probably look like someone I've seen before. But also your last name sounds familiar. Are you noble or something? -
I look away and snort. - Yeah. -
I see him raise his eyebrows. He probably wasn't expecting a positive answer. - You're a noble? - Something clicks in his head. - Wait a second. – He gets his feet off the table and looks at me. – Are you telling me that you're one of the Samiriens? The Royal Family? -
I nod.
- What part of the family? - He asks.
I shrug. - Theoretically, I should be sitting on the throne, but since I'm not of age yet, my mother is still in charge. -
- So why the fuck are you a thief then? - He freaks out.
I shrug again and I drink orange juice from the carton. - It's fun. -
- Yes, but... -
We stare at each other with wide open eyes when the floor starts shaking. A roar from the garage below. We both turn to the hoist, and from the stairwell a great cloud of dust comes up.
I bolt to my room to retrieve the Glock. Tears already has the Beretta in his hand.
I hear him curse and mutter something like "If he broke the rules this time, I'll kick his ass, and not in the way he would like it."
I barge into my room and freeze on the spot.
He's here. Sin. Sitting cross-legged on my desk.
He smiles.
And the door behind me closes by itself.
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