Ian Stone and Anabelle Snow might both make the decision to end my life, but their reasons would differ greatly.
“You were trained by Obsidian Inc. to fight and kill at their discretion.” Green goes on talking as if I never interrupted her. “Your first recorded appearance on our radar was when you assassinated a German diplomat. According to our records, you would have been eight years old at the time.”
We’ve been over this before. Countless times, the agency psych agents have thrown details of my past actions in my face. Hoping for what, I’m still not sure. A show of remorse, maybe? To see if I remember all the people I’ve killed? As a way of showing how much they already know about me so there’s no point in hiding anything?
Whatever it is they’re looking for, I resolved when this process first started not to give them a reaction they could use against me later.
“I was a quick study.” My standard answer. “Killing came easier to me than most of the others.”
Not an untrue statement. I was one of the first to be sent out on missions. Dan took far longer to reach OI’s field-ready standards, such as they are.
“As far as we’re aware, your kill count is in the double digits,” Green offers, like it’s a matter of opinion. As if there are FISA agents making bets on it, and Green is the one collecting them. She’d make a good bookie, very unassuming.
“Oh, really? Bad intel.” I make a point to sound droll, like it doesn’t matter to me. Which it doesn’t. Not as much as it probably should. “It’s in the triple-digit region, no question.”
“Did you keep a tally?” Green asks, raising her eyebrows at me. She’s taking the piss as Green sometimes likes to do when she’s getting bored with my attitude. Green has more fire than most psych agents. I’d almost say I like her if I could be sure I understand the feeling.
Is it liking someone when you think you’d make their death painless if it came down to that?
“I didn’t need to. It’s difficult to miss when you pass certain thresholds.”
“Triple-digit kill count,” Green muses, tilting her head from side to side thoughtfully. “Does it bother you to be able to make such a claim?”
I shrug my shoulders with deliberate nonchalance.
“Like you said, I’ve been an assassin almost my entire life. You get used to the weight of it. Becomes part of who you are. Don’t know how to be anything else but what they made me.”
“Is that why you agreed to become a FISA agent? Because you miss killing?” Green asks the question without a single flinch, making it difficult to tell if she’s being serious or just messing with me again.
“I don’tmisskilling people,” I snap back at her, unable to help my temper from flaring.
“But you miss having a purpose, yes?” Green prods, entirely unbothered by my outburst. She’s almost as fearless as Leo. It’s concerning.
I barely resist the urge to sneer at her.
“No.”
“Then why else would you have agreed to do this?” Green continues to press. “Step back into the fight when you don’t have to?”
Because I want to seehimagain.
The thought blows through my mind like a whisper of hot air.
“As it’s been explained to me,” I say, feeling suddenly more prickly than usual, “my freedom from this base hinges on my usefulness just as my continued life span hinged on my usefulness to OI.”
Green doesn’t respond negatively to my obvious insult, the implication that FISA is fundamentally no different than OI. She does, however, begin writing on her notepad with such casual belligerence it might as well be a double bird flip.
You know what? Maybe one day I will burn Green’s notepad. It’s important to have somewhat plausible aspirations.
When Green looks back up at me, her expression is more open, which is a clear sign she’s about to change tack and hit me with something new.
“Does your willingness to become a FISA agent have anything to do with the partner Director Snow chose to assign you?” Green asks with faux innocence. “Agent Leo Snow. He was the one who brought you in to us.”
That’s a rather conservative view on what happened.
“He sedated me, took me to a safe house, handcuffed me to a toilet, and somehow got Stone to remove the chip from my spine. He’s lucky to be alive.”
“Agent Snow offered you safety with FISA,” Green posits reasonably. “An escape from your incarceration by OI.”
