“Normally, I never question your orders. I kill when you tell me and when you are paying me. But this time it’s too risky. Convince me.”

“Ha! You’re speaking like one of my clerks. You’re sitting in my office, drinking my bourbon, asking me to justify my actions for the betterment of this world to you?”

“I’m drinking a fine drink offered to me, along with a comfortable chair, asking you to justify my actions to me.”

“Are you getting soft?” 


“I’ll take that as no. We’re shaping the course of events, and we can only do that if she’s dead. And it needs to look like they did it. So make it revolutionary. Make it sloppy.”

“Sloppy is not revolutionary.”

“Not revolutionary as in new, I’m talking about the beginnings of anarchy.”

“You want me to start anarchy.”

“I want to make it look like someone else started anarchy.”

“This is why I never ask questions. Especially not of you.”

“You’re intelligent, you can understand…”

“Don’t try convince me of what I am. I can calculate the drag of crosswinds, air flow, and gravity on a bullet. I cannot understand your political games. I’m not like you. Don’t ask me to be.”

“Then don’t ask questions.”

Zoe Fleischer