Chapter 2

Excellent”,replied The Boss with a grin on his face ,”You leave for London tonight. And remember”.

“Take out the target”, I recited ,”and kill anyone who gets in my way”.

“Very good, 21”, exclaimed The Boss ,”I wish you the best of luck”.

I nodded, then left the office. London. The President. How could I ever complete a mission like this. I wouldn’t admit this out loud, but 64 was right. This was a suicidal mission. No chance of me coming back.

As I walked down the hallway, I thought about what I would tell 64. That I had accepted a mission he specifically told me not to accept? But he did say that if I did accept the mission, to it finish, no loose ends.

By the time I was outside of the door that led to my dorm, I decided I would just wing it. I’ve always been good at that.

“I TOLD YOU NOT TO ACCEPT THE MISSION”, screamed 64 ,”WHAT THE HECK WERE YOU THINKING?”

Dang. Maybe I was tad rusty when it came to winging it.

“You also said that if I do accept the mission, to finish it, no loose ends”, I reasoned.

“No, I TOLD you that it was suicidal and NOT to accept it”, snapped 64 ,”but noooooo. 21 has to do the exact opposite of what I say, which, your going to pay for with your life”.

“Why would you care”, I shot back ,”It’s not like I’m needed in this dump or anything”.

“You might be right, but I need you”, he replied ,”Whether you like it or not, you're my…my best friend. I need you”.

All of a sudden, my heart fluttered. He needed me. I was needed. I stared into 64 eyes and for a moment, I thought that, this might be a little crazy, but I loved him. I mean crazy, right? Right?

But that moment ended when, this may or may not have happened, I ran up and hugged him. He was taken aback by this, but hugged me anyway.

“Thanks 64”, I said, trying to contain my tears.

“Anytime 21”, replied 64, still embracing me with his skinny arms. But me and him jumped apart when a knock came from the door.

“21”, said a deep voice ,”Your flight leaves in an hour. Pack lightly and quickly”.

“Well, I should leave you to pack”, 64 said after a few minutes in silence.

“Yeah”, I replied.

“Don’t die”, he instructed.

“I won’t”, I responded. But before he walked out the door, he stopped. Then all of a sudden, he turned around and gingerly kissed me on my lips. Then he spun around and walked out of the door, gently closing it behind him.

My heart exploded in my chest. My nerves went insane. I thought I was going to have a seizure. I sunk to the floor and brought my right hand to my lips. My best friend, my only friend, just kissed me. And I liked it. For some reason, that felt very illegal.

The sad thing was, I was about to leave for my death, and he just waltzes in here and kisses me. Man, he knew how to strike a nerve. But I was still hypnotized by the fact that I actually enjoyed the fact that my best friend kissed me. Did this mean I like him or something?

But, deep, deep, very deep down, I really did like 64. Then I thought back to the moment when I first arrived at the complex. I was struck by 64’s charm and how handsome he was, even for a 10 year old. He had been so kind to me, he had shown me around, and he gave me my favorite weapon; twin Roman gladius’. He had made this prison feel like a home, something I had never had.

All of a sudden, I realized I had less than an hour to pack. Crap. I hate feelings. Since I was contemplating a simi life crisis, I now had to pack at supersonic speed.

First, I packed my favorite leather jacket, a green shirt (because who doesn’t love green) and ripped pants into a leather duffel bag. Then I pulled my pistol and swords out from underneath my bed. I holstered my pistol and strapped my gladius to my side.

Finally, I took out a box from underneath my bed. It had a selfie of me and 64 from the day we stole the photographer's camera and a picture of my mom. She was wearing an army green jumpsuit with combat boots. Her silky black hair flowed down her left shoulder. Her caramel skin contrasted with her dazzling green eyes.

If I was a little older, I would have looked just like her, minus the fact that I have my scumbag fathers bright blue eyes.

Just then a knock came from the door.

“Time to leave”, said the same voice as before.

I quickly stuffed the box into my bag, zipped it up, and walked to my door. I opened it up to find 2, very buff Hispanic men dressed in black standing outside.

They didn’t say anything, just pushed me down the dark and depressing hallway. We finally came to a door that led into the cafeteria, where all of my fellow assassins were all cheering and clapping as I walked out to my doom.

The only one who wasn’t clapping was 64. He stood in the front row, trying to get a good look at me. His eyes meet mine. His eyes were covered with sorrow and grief. I couldn’t bear to look at him any longer. He was the only person I was going to miss here. And, don’t quote me on this, but I had made up my mind that I did love him. Like I said, I hate feelings.

I smiled at him one last time as I walked out to my untimely death.