"ALRIGHT, NOW PULL OUT," I sigh to Five.

"What do I grab?" He asks out of frustration.

"What do you mean "wHaT dO i GrAb?" The steering wheel," I instructed, trying to teach Five how to drive in the small parking lot in front of the commission. "You're already in reverse. Just make sure to watch your surroundings before taking your foot off the break."

I have been training Five for the past few weeks, along with some help from my colleagues, but due to The Handler's orders, it's mostly me. I can feel him growing more and more distant from me as more days pass by.

Last week, The Handler started assigning me private missions again, which I'm grateful for. I needed some of my familiar routine back.

Five turns to look back, his right arm moving to hold the back of my headrest. He glances at me for a second before looking back to the road, slowly reversing out of the parking spot.

I watch his features as he concentrates on what he's doing. Not once have I seen him relax since he arrived here. It makes me a little sad but I don't show it. When we were still getting trained by our father, which I'm now realizing was decades ago, he taught us all how to school our faces so we don't show emotion. We've both been using those lessons a lot recently.

A few hours later, I tell him that it's time for lunch. I don't think he's used to the idea of me being in charge of our current situation but it gives me a sense of control when my mind is in utter chaos.

We split up once we got to the food court. I made myself a BLT sandwich before finding myself a private table by the side of the room. People know by now not to try and interact with me so once I take my seat, the men who were sitting towards the end of the table scooted further away from me, making me smirk a little.

I take one-half of my sandwich and take a bite. I continue eating and just as I'm about to move on to the other half, someone takes a seat across from me, their tray slapping onto the countertop.

I look up to make eye contact with Five again. "I have something to run by you," He tells me quickly.

I look around awkwardly before placing down my BLT and wiping my mouth with a napkin. "Shouldn't you be telling that to The Handler?" I ask him.

"I tried but she told me to speak to my girlfriend about it. I'm assuming she meant you," He states before taking a bite of an apple.

I roll my eyes and look down as I sigh, "I've told her to stop calling us that." I look back up at him with a tilt of my head. "What did you want to tell me?"

"We should have bullet-proof suitcases," He says.

I lean back a little at that before taking a second to think. "Are you saying that they aren't currently bulletproof?" I ask, my brows furrowing.

"Nope." He keeps eye contact and takes another bite of his apple.

"I'll speak to the board about it," I nod, dismissing the topic.

He raises his eyebrows at that. "It's that simple?"

"Well, yeah. I'm part of the board." I shrug, taking another bite of my sandwich.

His head bows back, clearly impressed. "She wasn't kidding when she said you're the one to talk to."

I sigh before explaining, "I have many rolls here. Throughout the years I've been working here, I've picked up job after job, doing my best to keep myself busy. At most? I'm an assassin. At least? I'm here helping new recruits." I say the last part with a nod at him.

We both fall silent, continuing to eat our meals. I feel him look back up at me as I finish the last part of my sandwich. He clears his throat before sitting up straighter. "Do you, uh-... Do you remember when we were kids we used to catch each other making sandwiches in the middle of the night?" He asks me.

I look up at him, the memory fresh in my mind. I nod as a smile makes its way to my lips. "You'd make peanut butter and marshmallow ones while I'd made Nutella," I grin.

"Yeah," He huffs a smile. "I don't know why it took me so long to remember that but I guess seeing you eat a sandwich brought back the memory," he mutters, lost in thought.

Suddenly, we hear a clunk from one of the pipes next to us against the wall. I open the little door before pulling out the beaker inside. I take out the roll of paper inside before handing him the beaker and lid.

I unroll the paper before reading it.

To: The Girl & The Boy

From: N034151B

Date: 00013279814

On November 16th, 1932, there is a man named James Connor in his late 20's. Assassinate him.

I sigh before passing the note to Five. "We have a mission."

He reads it over twice before glancing up at me. "Were supposed to kill this guy? No questions asked?"

"Aside from those? Yeah." I stand with my tray. "It seems we're teamed up for this one."

He nods in reply. We silently throw away our trash, put away our trays, and go to our rooms so we can change before I lead us to the briefcase room.

☂️ ⓪ ☂️

It's been weeks since Five and I's first mission together. I hate how gleeful it makes me to know that we still work so well together... I mean that in a professional way of course.

I'm pretty sure we've been permanently assigned as partners, not that The Handler spoke to us about it beforehand but then again, I'm not terribly upset by it either.

It was mid-afternoon when I heard shuffling outside the hallway of my room. I sit up from bed before getting up to open the door. It was then I realized that Five was quickly pacing to his room, his suit and face having some blood splatter speckled in a few spots here and there. "You went on a killing spree and I wasn't invited?" I ask, an eyebrow raised as he reaches his door.

I lean against my doorway as he unlocks his door, placing his rifle down so that it's leaning against the wall. "No. I was on a project mission. Trust me, if I was going on a killing spree, you'd be invited," he huffs, taking off his black blazer.

I froze, suddenly a little suspicious. What did he mean by that? I choose to ignore it for now. "Wait, what? You got assigned a private mission?" I change the subject, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Yeah," he looks up at me then. "By The Handler herself. She even accompanied me and everything," he shrugs.

I furrow my brows at that. The heads of the commission were never meant to join assassins on missions. This makes no sense but I decide to keep my mouth shut.

"Why, jealous?" He smirks, an eyebrow raised as he unbuttons his grey vest after slipping off his gun holsters.

"No," I answer, almost too quickly for my liking. "It's just odd. But I guess it's normal for new recruits to have a mentor around during their missions," I dismiss, turning to go back into my room. I close the door behind me before he can answer, letting out a sigh.

Why is this bothering me so much?

☂️ ⓪ ☂️

I'm reading a book while laying on my double bed when I get distracted by three rhythmic knocks on my door. Before I get a chance to even reply, it opens revealing an overly gleeful blonde.

"Z!" The Handler gives me a toothy grin. "Walk with me," She states before walking away, leaving the door wide open. I roll my eyes with a sigh. I place a bookmark in my book in order to keep my place before getting up to stand.  I looked down the hall to my right to see her pacing further and further down. I close the door behind me, locking it with my key before speed-walking to catch up with her.

"What's up, boss?" I ask her once were walking side by side.

"You've been working for us for how long, Zero?" She asks.

"Almost two decades, Ma 'am," I reply, my eyebrows furrowing at her questions.

"I thought so," she said, her smile never leaving her face as they round the corner towards the offices. "What do you think of a promotion?" she asks, looking at me from the corner of her eye.

"Promotion?" I repeat in confusion. "What kind of promotion are we talkin'?"

"Well, first we would shave a few years off your contract with us, then you would have a higher leadership role," She shrugs.

I asked the first question that came to mind. "And what about Five?"

"What about Five?" She stops, looking me dead in the eye.

"Would he be able to leave the commission at the same time I would?" I clarify.

"Not exactly," she tilts her head to the side, an amused smile making its way to her lips as if she knows something I don't. "If you turn this down, I'm going to have to offer this job to A.J. Cormack. I don't exactly like the idea of a fish being in charge."

I know my answer already but I pause to act like I need to think about it. I don't need The Handler to know my thought process. "I think you're better off asking goldy."

She sighs as she starts walking again. "I had a feeling you were going to say that."

We start to walk down the corridor of her office. As we walk past it, I look through the crack between the door. Inside I see a young brunette girl sitting on the floor as she plays with some toys.

The Handler must have noticed my attention being drawn away because she intentionally made sure to close the door as she passes. I choose not to question the fact that The Handler has a little girl in her office as we walk further down the corridor.

The Handler leads me a few doors down before opening one. "Your office?"

"What?" I do a double-take. I step into the room.

"It's yours. Whether you take the promotion or not," She tells me, her head tilted to the side as she awaits my reaction.

The room was big. Not as large and The Handler's office but still, very spacious. The first thing that caught my attention was that the room only had one window which was behind the grand wooden desk. A tall leather chair stood between the two. I moved to stand behind it as I looked out the window to look out upon one of the training yards, which was currently deserted. "Why?" I ask monotonously. I look at her, expressionless. Let's face it, The Handler is a self-serving bitch. What is she trying to get out of this? As I mentioned before, I've been here for a while so why would she choose to offer me this now?

"Take the gift, Zero. Suspicion over this will get you nowhere."

"You know better than I do that any suspicion I have over you is valid. Don't try to manipulate your way out of it," I tell her, a brow raised. We stare at each other for a few seconds, daring each other to see who would break the silence. It gets to the point where I've had enough. "I'll take the office. Not the promotion. Final answer."

I walk right past her without another word and back down the corridor. I look straight ahead of me, ignoring the looks and whispers I get from the colleagues I pass as I make my way back to the dorms.

Once I've made it to my destination, I knock on the door, suppressing the desire to roll my eyes at the tag on the wall that says "the boy".

"What?" Five asks as he opens the door before realizing it's me, his expression softening a little.

I look down at his black suit which he wears on all our missions. "You're going to need to change," I tell him.

"Excuse me?" he asks, lacking context.

"We have a misson," I say simply.

He stares at me with an unreadable expression. I feel like he's trying to find out what my intentions are from just my eyes. "Alright," he nods once, a smirk making its way to his lips.

"Dress 90s' casual."

"I'll be ready in fifteen," he nods again, before closing the door. As soon as it does I can't help but smile to myself in victory.

As he said, both Five and I were ready fifteen minutes later. I've now put together that no matter what sercomestances, whether in the apocalypse wearing whatever clothing we could find, wearing a fancy suit, or wearing casual clothes for a mission, he can look handsome in all. I have no doubt he still has his gun holsters on under his brown blazer.

I step out of my door way and close it with my mind, not bothering to look at it as I notice Five leaning on the oposite wall, his hands shoved in his pockets. "Let's go," I state, breifcase in hand.

He pushes himself off the wall as we fall into a matching pace down the corridor.

☂️ ⓪ ☂️

A/N: Thank you for over 5K reads! Your support means everything. Don't forget to comment and vote! Ily all! <3 - Zoe Manijeh, 12.29.22

Word count: 2317