Distractions Cost Jobs.

You steel yourself and turn away from the overworked girl. Distractions may be nice for the undisciplined, but your training has hammered in a strong work ethic. You unbutton your collar to accommodate the climate and begin walking towards the housing.

The sounds of battle are all around you: explosions, gun fire, screams, the endless shouting of a cocky male. It is a sound that you are used to, but have not heard in many years. Since being tasked with only the most 'delicate' of missions, you have not been given such dangerous work. As you ride up the elevator to your room, you realize that it is a nostalgic feeling. It has been years since you have had to kill. It makes you smile to think that you may get your hands wet with this new job. This smile feels better. It is not one you wear to impress and sway the opinions of others. This is all your own.

It would be marvelous to watch this man die.

Before you have much more time to plan, the elevator comes to a stop. The lights go black and you are alone in the small cell. You remain calm, despite the nagging feeling that this is a trap. Thinking of the target's profile, it's not unthinkable that he would have a trap ready for you. Are you being too cautious?