"Growing up, I always had a soldier mentality. As a kid I wanted to be a soldier, a fighter pilot, a covert agent, professions that require a great deal of bravery and risk and putting oneself in grave danger in order to complete the mission. Even though I did not become all those things, the interest that was there still shaped my philosophies. To this day I honor risk and sacrifice for the good of others - my views on life and love are heavily influenced by this."
― Criss Jami, Healology

There were times to conceal skill and times not to bother. Of course I wouldn't expose my speed or strength, but just for the sake of this job moving quickly... or because this mortal was truly deserving–I let myself be what I couldn't under police scrutiny.

I let myself hunt targets.

I had to credit the mortals, they really did think of everything. They communicated. They were well equipped and they even considered using multiple floors to hunt and destroy me. It was impressive–but it was designed for a mortal.

What they thought was silent was loud. Each boot scrap, heavy breath, adjustment of their weapon–every murmur on the comm, every turn to each corner. Inhale. Beat. Click. Scrape.

I smiled.

I played them like the ivories of a piano. I kept them in confused circles for the first few minutes. When they claimed they saw me, they saw a shadow. When the camera feeds identified me on the first floor I was already on the third... Then I decided to get to the point.

I targeted Mack last, of course.

I cut down his team of six one by one. I created noise in one room and shot the rear man in the opposite hallway. I'd throw a loose piece of wood into a staircase and drop from a floor hatch behind two more. Rounds pierced through the walls indiscriminately. As quickly as they could rush to adapt and change their plans, I was already taking members of their team away to ruin them.

I shot the last member Mack had with him and he whirled, firing off three rounds into the plywood where I had been two seconds too late. I was already halfway through another room and went as far as to shoot out the light above him. He rolled away from the doorway and pressed himself against the wall. His breathing was relatively controlled.

"Come on, come on..." He murmured in what he thought was barely a whisper.

So, I removed a flash grenade from one of his groaning men and walked calmly in the darkness tearing off the pin. I heard the quick click of another magazine click into place and his breathing steady. He bolted around the corner as I rolled the grenade at his feet.

"Fuck." He grunted, before the room became a hellscape of white light and deafening noise.

I rounded the corner. One shot to the knee, two to the ribs and one on his shoulder simply to suggest I wasn't a perfect shot. That was my reasoning anyway.

I stood over Mack as he groaned into the concrete floor, holding his side. 

The rooms flooded green and a buzz sounded in the false house.

"Christ–just–give me a minute..."

I glanced over my shoulder at two more men in a similar state. I still had half a magazine of sim rounds in my pistol. 

"My apologies." I murmured, making the weapon in my hands safe and placing the magazine into one of the pouches at my hip.

I heard laughing and animated discussion beyond one of the plywood walls that was riddled with holes now. One of which I threw a piece of furniture through to get a better shot–nothing too forceful of course.

Ash rounded the corner with the two suits shaking her head.

"Seems you weren't exaggerating." She stated, glancing at the men littered at every angle.

"About what?" I quipped, dropping a hand to Mack which he refused. I smirked as he unsteadily rose to his feet, still holding his ribs. There was a flaw in their armour that I may have exploited...

"Don't play dumb, Tara–"

"She prefers Fletcher." Mack grunted, with a hint of admiration in those brown eyes.

"Fletcher–" She corrected, gaining my attention, "–were you special forces?"

I gave her a flat look that would let her know it was silly to ask such a thing, or that if I was I would not be claiming it. Mack nodded and his smile returned.

"Fuck yes. I want you on our detail when we move." Mack announced.

"That's to be decided–"

"At ease, paperweight." Mack dismissed one of the suited males, who seemed only to be here for show so far. I resisted a smirk. I was in danger of growing fond of him. 

"I think we'll be in touch, Fletcher." Ash summarised, as the males glared off one another. Each having their own strengths in very different environments for their employer. "We will send through an email for the details of your contract–should you decide to accept."

I nodded, glancing around the room.

"That will include the details of your next operation?" I pressed.

Ash frowned and Mack shifted on his feet. "We can't disclose that until you accept the contract. Non-disclosure, I'm sure you understand..." She trailed off, waiting on my answer.

I sighed and flexed my fingers.

"I suppose I'm not surprised. I'm sure you don't have the luxury of deciding how long your operations last... but I was really hoping to be out of country no more than a week at a time."

Ash raised her eyebrows in surprise and the others didn't bother to conceal their own.

"You are well compensated for your time." A suit assured me.

But I was already shaking my head.

"You've already made that clear." I smirked, thinking back to my first meeting and seeing the zeros follow the first number I had seen. "–I have commitments, but everything is negotiable." I shrugged easily. 

Mack smiled darkly at my nonchalance and the way it made the suits squirm.

We didn't waste anymore time after that display. They had seen more than enough and they wanted me badly. That made my negotiating position inevitable and this didn't even include my language skills. Women were already desirable in the surveillance world, let alone lethal ones.

Once I had disarmed myself, I watched their helicopter descend back onto the field we had arrived at. I was about to enter the cabin again when I felt my phone vibrate. I had lost track of time and place altogether and remembered a world existed outside of serving as an immortal assassin–it was far too easy to fall back into that routine when I was around mortals like this. 

Two messages waited for me from Quinn. But the other was unknown... Not even a number displayed. 

I took my seat with the mortals as they discussed kit and equipment through the comms.

"Fletcher, meet me for dinner tonight at the Connaught, seven o'clock. You and I have some details to work through... I think you'll be quite interested – Selena"

Taking numbers from Paragon's archives now were we...

"Should I be flattered you're stealing my details or concerned?"

"Oh, completely in awe. There's not many on this earth I give such attention to."

I rolled my eyes out of my head and watched our ascent begin and the trees bend back from the spin of the blades.

"Make it 8. I have someone to see."

"One of these days I shall sit upon that priority list of yours, Elder."

I couldn't tell if it was a threat or a playful edge, so I left those words without a response. I had higher priorities than a curious Elder and her name was Quinn Adams. I pulled up the very name on my phone and read her messages.

The first was delivered shortly after lunch and upon my arrival to Vanguard's facility.

"Whatcha up to old lady?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose and carefully kept my expression neutral as Ash cast me a curious look, before returning to her conversation about round calibres. The second message was delivered while I was putting simulation rounds into mortals and making them regret their career choices. 

"Your meeting has either gone very well or very badly... don't keep a girl in suspense."

I typed back quickly, noting the time was now drawing towards my bizarre dinner meet tonight. It would be six when we landed, that meant I could go directly to her home or office depending on her own schedule...

"You have my apologies, my meeting was a bit more engaging than I anticipated. Will you be in the office in an hour?"

Her reply didn't come immediately. I placed my phone back within my jacket and met Mack's eyes who I knew already stared at me. He didn't flinch when I met them, even for a mortal that was semi-impressive.

"Go ahead and ask me before you burst..." I drawled over the comm, catching every other pair of eyes in the cabin now. 

Mack shrugged one of his shoulders–the other I had shot.

"You don't fight like SF. Or like the Americans. I'm more concerned we'll have a conflict of interest." He said simply, as if implying I was an enemy-state sponsored spy was not of importance. Well, to me it wasn't at least–but I wasn't here to scare off my employers.

"I'm sure your people have enough skill to confirm I'm British." I returned, smiling at him slowly.

"Accepting she has skill is really an issue for you, isn't it?" Ash muttered, dismissing him with a wave and meeting my calm gaze, "–he already knows we've checked you. He just wants to see if the fish bites."

"I'd say I'm more of a shark." I answered, in an irony none would recognise other than Quinn. A true shame. The only thing better would be flashing him my best smile.

Mack chuckled and winced when he jolted his arm. I could smell the faintest drop of blood under his compression shirt. I rolled my shoulders and relaxed back into my chair in satisfaction. Him and I would be fast friends, or he would become like a Chihuahua nipping at my ankles every now and then trying to get a reaction–time would tell.

My phone vibrated again.

I pulled it out and scanned Quinn's words.

"Hey Fletch, yeah busy day here. Come over."

It was rushed, short. She was busy. I weighed the value of disrupting her work more with the value of meeting an immortal. It wasn't favourable. 

"I'll be there in just over an hour." I answered.

"What?! Where the hell was the meeting?"

"All in good time, Adams."

There was a pause for a few seconds. Then a new message illuminated as the sun began its decent across the horizon. At least the days were getting longer now. Spring approached, and my window for finding immortals loomed.

"Could you grab me some pizza on the way?"

I snorted and drew up Jamerson's contact. My request was formal as ever and unexpected as usual. He confirmed the timing outside Vanguard's building with a cheese and pepperoni nightmare waiting in a box.

"Consider it done."

"I love you."

She still made my heart skip. Still ran my blood cooler and would have me blushing if it were possible. 

The rest of the flight was a monotone of smalltalk and logistics. I know they kept it vague for my sake. I was not yet a part of the inner circe and privy to business knowledge and tradecraft. Despite the fact that it would be second rate in every instance to Paragon's trade. We were removing threats before their technology existed, in a time where an eye-witness was gospel, the Gods were feared, and a blade was the only guarantee you could take a life.

We finally descended back upon the helipad lying atop their skyscraper in Canary Wharf as darkness had fallen. 

"I hope this was as much an opportunity for you to see us, as much as we saw you today, Fletcher." Ash said, reaching out to shake my hand again.

I nodded shaking it and meeting Mack's more ginger shake with a grin.

"To be honest, I think I'll only really get that perspective working out there." I finished, not needing to gesture where in the world that would be–but sincerely hoping it was less than half a day's flight time.

Once we finished formalities I strode back for the lift as they lingered on the pad. The elevator raced towards the ground with minimal stops thanks to the late hour. Even in London, rush hour was dead. 

Jamerson dutifully had the door open with one hand and a square box on the seat. I smiled as I swept into the back seat and the smell of mortal food slapped me in the face. 

"You're a saviour."

"I must admit, I didn't consider this your thing–"

"It's not." I interrupted quickly, "–the lack of food in this car has always been your greatest service."

He chuckled, pulling us away quickly and on track for Quinn's office. Without rush hour traffic we should make it in twenty minutes. I glanced at my watch and smirked. I'm sure Selena hadn't had to wait for anyone in centuries... but there were always exceptions.