Lexi stares at the small device, resting on top of the toilet's tank. She listens to the rushing water flush down the bowl and refill again. Looking over the instructions on the box, she double checks the amount of time she needs to wait for the result - two to three minutes. Feels like an eternity.

She looks back down at the test strip, keeping her distance as if it might suddenly explode. Her heart begins to thump a little faster in her chest. 'This is a stupid idea,' she thinks to herself. 'I don't want to know right now? I should have just waited until we got home. Why did I let D talk me into this?'

She doesn't move as she stares down at the cheap pregnancy test strip, waiting for either a single line or double lines; two lines - pregnant. One line - not pregnant.

The single-person restroom is quite small. One toilet sits at the opposite end and a tiny sink is mounted to her left. Above the sink is a mirror, scratched and graffitied. The tiled floor is littered with discarded toilet paper and next to the toilet stands an abandoned soda cup from a previous visitor.

Lexi inhales slowly through her nose and then exhales one long breath out her mouth in an attempt to calm herself. She turns to the sink to wash her hands, running the warm water and soap over her fingers. Then, turning to the metal box attached to the wall, she cranks the lever, waiting for the dispersed paper towel - nothing. She scoffs and pats her wet hands on her shorts, attempting to dry them, as she looks back to the test strip.

Something's happening; red ink starts to appear on the device. A single line forms. 

One line. That's it. Just before she lets out a sigh of relief, it keeps going. Dim at first. Her heart thumps harder - it's climbing into her throat.

Two lines.

Lexi stares at those tiny marks. Two lines. Her mind is blank, thinking of nothing, but those two lines. A sudden rush of fear overcomes her. Bringing both hands to her mouth, she stifles the trembling gasps of anxiety. Lexi backs toward the door. Resting against it, she slides down, bringing her knees to her chest. She pulls her hands from her gaping mouth and wraps her arms around her legs. Bloodied images paint her mind. She can't do this again. She can't build up her hopes of life, to have it ripped from her body for the fourth time. 

Her jaw snaps shut. She takes in a sharp breath, through her nose and seals her eyes closed. Fighting back her fear, she reengages her mind on what grows inside her. Subtle tears escape her eyes.

Waves of emotions wash over her. Minutes pass by. Her eyes remain shut. Finally, her mind begins to ease itself, but the anxiety seeps down to her chest, where it rests like a lead weight on her heart.

Opening her eyes, she inhales deeply and then lets out a long, controlled breath. Lexi slowly pushes herself off the floor and steps toward the test strip. She reaches out her unsteady hand and picks it up. Shaking in her fingers, she examines it one last time. Another long moment passes.

"Holy shit..." she finally whispers.

After some silence, Lexi abruptly turns and throws the strip in the trashcan near the door. She stands in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do next. She wants to avoid Dietrich. Shouldn't Sam be the first to know? She's not going to call him; she wants to do it in person. Perhaps she should wait until they get home. Is this really happening? She doesn't need him distracted right now. And she sure as hell doesn't need another argument; Lexi knows he would try and keep her away from the action as much as possible. Nothing's changed. She's still an effective member of this team.

Glancing to her right, she examines herself in the tainted mirror. She turns to it and leans forward, resting her hands on the metal sink. Her red eyes stare back, studying the smudges of mascara beneath them. "Dammit," she mutters. Cranking the handle on the sink, Lexi reaches down with both hands and splashes the running water onto her face. After quickly rubbing the rogue make-up from her skin, she shuts off the water and returns to her reflection. She looks over the light freckles dotting her cheeks, as splotches of water drip from her face. 

After stalling long enough, Lexi reluctantly unlocks the door and pulls it open. Stepping into the convenience store, she sees Dietrich on the other side of the small building. His head and shoulders tower over the sparsely populated rows of snacks and candy. He looks up at her and raises his eyebrows, expecting some sort of news. She just stares at him, unsure of what to do or say. Across the room, he hears everything she's thinking.

His eyes widen. 

She nods her head slowly.

---

Sam holds his burner phone to his ear as he listens to it ring. Sitting at the bar, he does his best to ignore Anatoly's and Jason's nonsensical debate.

"What is purpose of race?" asks Anatoly. "To get there first," he replies to his own question. "Clear as day! Right there! Russia put satellite and man into space first. Space Race finish. No more race."

"That's bullshit," responds Jason. "Consider the length of the race. Where is the destination, really? Is it just getting into space? The moon-"

"Oh, enough with the moon!" Anatoly retorts.

"Maybe it's mars or a whole other galaxy," continues Jason, talking over Anatoly. "The point is the race is still moving forward and the United States is at the forefront of it."

"You Americans are just too proud to ever admit defeat," says Anatoly as he drains the last of his drink.

"Well someone will have to beat us at something, before we admit it," says Jason.

Anatoly slaps his empty glass on the bar table and quickly starts counting with his fingers. "Korea, Vietnam, Afghanistan -"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! You don't know shit about any of that," Jason shoots back.

"Will you two shut up?" says Sam, as he drops the phone in his pocket - no answer. "You're attracting a little more attention than needed." He then takes a sip from his glass and looks around the room.

"She didn't answer?" asks Jason.

Sam shakes his head. Jason shrugs, "So, what now, boss?" he asks.

"Let's head back to the hotel," replies Sam. "We've seen enough of this place."

"It's not really technically a hotel - more of a motel, if you will," says Jason. "Kind of a dump. Speaking of which, why do we always stay in shit holes when we travel? I'm pretty sure we can afford something a little nicer."

"Low profile," answers Sam as he steps down from the bar stool. "Plus, they don't turn their noses up to guys like you two," he adds with a grin, as he pulls some cash from his wallet to tip the bartender.

"What is that supposed to mean?" asks Anatoly.

"Yeah, I'm actually kinda offended by that," says Jason.

Sam laughs. "Alright, let's go."

---

"Why didn't you answer?" asks Dietrich.

Lexi looks up at him with the phone still in her hand. The screen indicates one missed call.

"I don't know," she replies. "I just don't know how to talk to him yet. I don't know what to say."

"Then don't say anything," says Dietrich. "I mean - about that. You should probably talk about everything else, like the weather, the mission..." His left hand flips the turn signal on as he slows the vehicle. The windshield wipers scrape across the glass, tossing water off to the side. In a matter of minutes, the rain has increased its strength and continues to pour harder and harder.

Lexi sits in the passenger seat, staring down at the phone in her hand. "Yeah, I know," she starts. "It just feels weird. I don't like keeping things from him."

"It's not like it's a secret or anything," says Dietrich as he turns the car down another street. "It's... a surprise. You're not keeping anything from him. You're just waiting for the right time to tell him."

"I know," she replies. Lexi looks out the window, attempting to process the emotions swimming in her gut.

"I should call him back," she finally says.

"Yes, you should," replies Dietrich.

She blows out a sigh and then selects the number to Sam's burner phone and pushes the green icon.

---

Sam feels the buzzing in his pocket. He pulls out the phone and checks Caller ID.

"Finally," he mutters. Sitting in the front passenger seat of the car, he answers the phone. "Hey!"

Jason mans the wheel of the vehicle while Anatoly sits in the back seat.

"Hey! Sorry I missed your call. What's up?" responds Lexi's on the other end.

"We're heading back to the hotel and I just wanted to check in on you," Sam answers.

"Motel..." Jason mutters, correcting his boss.

Sam rolls his eyes.

"Oh! We'll head back, too," says Lexi. She points the receiver away from her mouth.

"Back to the motel," she says to Dietrich. He nods and proceeds to change the course of their direction.

"Good," says Sam. He returns his attention to the rain, dancing on the hood of the car. "You staying dry?"

"Yeah, so far," replies Lexi.

Sam and Lexi catch up on the details of the day. They agree to come up with a strategy in person.

Lexi and Dietrich pick up some local cuisine and bring the food to the room, while the others review maps and satellite images.

Lexi steps into the room with two plastic bags containing the late but appreciated meal. Her wet shoes leave prints in the carpet and her damp ponytail drips down her back. "Hey, baby," says Sam with a smile across his face. Dietrich follows behind her, with two more bags. Dietrich, Jason, and Anatoly have rented out the room next door, but the five mercenaries are currently crammed into Sam's and Lexi's room, while they plot their course of action.

"Hey. I missed you," Lexi says as she leans in.

Sam greets her with a kiss. "Okay, fill us in," he starts. "What'd you guys come up with?"

"Wow, no foreplay," responds Dietrich. The group laughs.

Sam grins. "I'm all about diving right in."

"Yeah... I know," replies Lexi.

"Ohhh!" Jason hollers.

The group laughs again. Once the food is out and mouths are full, the team goes back and forth, refining a strategy.

"Yo, we should wrap this up, quickly," says Jason, peering through the window blinds. The rain has come to a halt.

"Why?" asks Dietrich.

"Because there's a couple hookers working the corner right down here," replies Jason, pointing out the window, "and I've got some per diem to burn."

"Hey," says Lexi, snapping her fingers. "Let's focus. You can bang your cheap motel whores later."

"See," Jason says to Sam as he points a finger at Lexi. "She knows it's a motel." He reluctantly peels himself from the window and returns his attention to the group.

"Anyway... we think the golf course is a no-go," says Sam, as he gestures to himself, Anatoly, and Jason.

"Way too much exposure and collateral damage," says Jason. Their formal military training has taught them to avoid potential civilian casualties at all cost.

"And we don't have enough time to observe his patterns," adds Sam. "So, we can't hit him on the road. Too unpredictable, even though that's when he's the most vulnerable."

"So it has to be the house?" asks Dietrich.

"It doesn't have to be, but I think it's the best option," replies Jason.

"The neighborhood is pretty snug," says Lexi. "There are a lot of homes surrounding his property." She leans in over the printed out satellite image of the target's home, lying on top of the king-sized bed. The CIA provided the team with surveillance photos and even blueprints of Diego Pérez's home. "But, we could easily hit him as he leaves his home for work," she says. "Just camp out in the car down the street."

Jason shakes his head. "The reports say he drives an armored car and travels in a caravan with his security," he says. "We don't have the firepower for that. If we screw it up on the road, he's gone. Also, he gets in and out of the car from the garage, so we won't catch him there, either."

"What if we wait for him to arrive at work," says Lexi. "Kill him as soon as he steps out of the car."

"Like I said, he doesn't work a regular schedule," Sam interjects. "So, he might not show up. Secondly, It'll turn into a gunfight. His security will surround him as soon as he steps out of the car and they'll be watching everyone closely."

"Then we hit him from a distance," says Dietrich. "We didn't bring Anatoly along for his good looks."

"Although, I do offer those services as well," jokes Anatoly, from the chair by the window. "But, unfortunately no good place to shoot from. No good cover outside." Even the cocky marksman knows when to play it safe.

The group falls silent as they stare at the photos, maps, and blueprints. Finally, Anatoly asks, "How old is this man?"

Jason leans over the mission brief. "He is... fifty-eight. Turns fifty-nine later this year. Why?"

Anatoly takes a moment to consider his words carefully - quite rare of the man to do so. "As a man ages, he starts to take on a certain routine, normal to all older men."

The other four stare at him, waiting for clarification.

"He gets up early to piss. Or even many times in the night," he finally says.

"I really don't see how that helps us," says Jason.

"Did you not look at blueprint?" replies Anatoly. He stands from his chair and leans over the bed to point at the schematics.

"Right there," he says, pointing at the master bathroom on the second floor. "Part of master-bedroom is bathroom... with window."

The room is silent as Anatoly waits for a reaction. Each person considers the option.

"We could hit him from this house right here," says Dietrich, pointing at the satellite image. His finger jabs the house directly behind Pérez's home. "It would be a clear shot to the bathroom or master bedroom," he adds.

"What if the blinds are closed," asks Sam. This tiny detail completely destroys Anatoly's idea. "Plus, that would mean we'd have to overtake the family living in that house, tie them up, and watch over them, while we do all this".

"To your first question," starts Anatoly, "bedroom and bathroom windows face south. That means sun does not hit directly at any point of day. No reason to close blinds."

"That's the man's bedroom and bathroom - the most intimate places in his home," says Jason. "Of course he's going to draw the blinds, just for the sake of privacy."

"If that happens, we storm castle," says Anatoly.

"Yeah, that's a great plan," refutes Jason, sarcastically. "Just kick in the doors and fight off the unknown number of armed and well-trained guards in the house, let alone whatever other security measures they've got; you guys said you saw cameras, right?" he adds, gesturing to Lexi and Dietrich. They both nod.

"But we have no clue what's in the backyard," adds Lexi.

"Right," Jason continues. "Dogs, trip sensors, floodlights, armed guards, more cameras - the list goes on."

"Maybe we could knock all that out at once," says Dietrich. He reaches up to stroke the well-groomed goatee clinging to his chin.

"What do you mean," asks Sam as he folds his arms.

"I could wire a small remote explosive to the transformer," says Dietrich. "It would cut off all power to the neighborhood, in case we have to bust our way into the home."

"And if the curtains are open in bedroom or bathroom," starts Anatoly, "one shot, one kill..."

The group sits in silence as each mercenary actively thinks over the scenario.

"One shot, one kill," repeats Sam, breaking the silence. "I don't know...." he let's out a sigh. "Let's hope to god those blinds are open."

"Okay. Awesome," says Jason, suddenly altering the mood of the room. "Now that we've got that settled, I've got some per diem to blow."

"Is it really the per diem that's getting blown tonight?" asks Lexi, placing her hands on her hips.

"Ha! Good one," says Jason, as he moves toward the door.

"Yes, I think I have monies to spend, too," says Anatoly, jumping from his chair and following Jason.

Sam and Lexi turn their attention to Dietrich as the other two men rush out of the room. "Yeah..." Dietrich starts. "I'm going to do some research and, uh, figure out where that transformer is, uh... located," he says, backing away, toward the door.

"Yeah, you do that," says Sam. "And make sure she can find your 'transformer', while you're at it."

Dietrich laughs as he pulls the door open. "Trust me - she won't have a problem with that."