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“Go on, then,” the Constant’s lips formed a strange smirk, reflected into the mirror. “Do your thing… At least I die knowing who I am.”
47 aimed his pistol at the back of his head.
A perfect headshot, one that would end the whole ordeal forever, that would make Lucas’ death not be in vain… That would help him gain another purpose.
A gunshot was fired, and the agent was disarmed. He grabbed his own hand and gritted his teeth.
The Constant let out a chuckle.
“You didn’t think it’d be that easy now, did you? I told you, I never throw away anything useful.”
A man rose from the shadows, bearing a Bartoli pistol. He had the exact same white shirt and black suit 47 wore, but showed off a blue tie, and, well, had short grey hair, grown out after possibly being shaved off.
“I’m sure you remember our mutual friend, Lucas Grey. Or rather…”
The Constant paused as the two men made eye contact – both equally as tense – meaning to make the tension harder to bear. And although he knew 47 had already figured out who it was, the Constant almost whispered as he slowly turned around…
“Agent 6.”
47 looked at his partner, his mouth slightly agape in shock, and Lucas gave him a lost, neutral glance. It was the same look that 47 was sure he displayed back when he didn’t remember Lucas, when he didn’t remember anything – a mimic of it, as if Lucas didn’t quite know how to do it, but it was the same absent look, the same unsure eyes… The same fog over his eyes.
“His memories…” 47 murmured.
“Now, now. What use would he be if he would know?” The Constant scoffed. “47… You’re rumored to be so wise… I thought you were better than that.”
“You won’t get away with this,” 47 threatened. “We found a cure once, we’ll do it again.”
“And what makes you think you won’t end up dead?” the Constant patiently asked, eyes going from 47 to Lucas. “That he won’t splatter your brains all over the place, just like you did with hundreds of others? This is why Miss Burnwood betrayed you. You cannot be trusted… and you cannot trust. You have no purpose in this world besides killing and being threatened to be killed. You’re useless, Agent 47, and so is your friend. Killing gives you a purpose, but everyone will die anyways. You’re nothing.”
47 gritted his teeth.
He looked at the fallen pistol from the ground.
What a stupid, dark joke it all was.
The Constant was right. He didn’t have any purpose. He was… useless. Death came for everyone; the fact that he brought it earlier meant nothing.
If the pistol would have been in his hand, he would have lowered it.
He let out a soft sigh.
“Maybe I’m useless. Maybe I mean nothing, and that’s why nobody trusts me.” He looked at Lucas, then back at the Constant. “And maybe it’s foolish, maybe I’m a fool, but I still trust. I still trust my friends, and I always will. Olivia, Diana, and even, or especially, Lucas.”
His friend looked at him, eyes sparkling slightly.
“I still trust him with my life.”
“It would be poetic for him to take it, then. But, alas, as much as I would like to know you dead… You wouldn’t be of any use in the grave. Your potential cannot be wasted.”
The Constant sat down at the desk and opened the briefcase. He carefully took the syringe, then handed it to Lucas. 47 watched everything, tense and concerned.
“Agent 6, would you kindly make our friend forget why he’s here?”
Lucas took the syringe in his free hand. 47’s breath hitched.
Their eyes met, piercing blue on pale green… And Lucas didn’t look distant anymore. The playful spark of his eyes returned, and they seemed eager again. 47 didn’t let the realization show on his face, but it let it warm his body, soften his tense muscles, not visibly, but hidden.
Him and Lucas exchanged a subtle, knowing glance.
The needle of the syringe pierced the Constant’s neck, who yelled in a mix of shock and pain.
“Oh, shit, my hand slipped,” Lucas said in pretend surprise, with a tone worthy of him, the tone that yelled out to 47, I’m not gone, I never will be! It’s still me, the smug bastard nobody can get rid of, here to annoy and help you once again!
“You traitor! You… Shit… You made a big mistake, Mr. Grey… A big mistake…”
Lucas threw the syringe to 47, who caught it between his index and middle finger, then crushed it in his fist without blinking.
“No, Arthur. You made a mistake thinking I wouldn’t have an antidote. Now the last dose of the serum once used on the hunted was used on the hunter… Poetry always was my favorite form of art.” He glanced at 47, and threw him his gun, which the other caught perfectly, fitting it in his hand instantly, reminding him of his role in the world, of who he was and what he had to do.
Lucas nodded. “Finish him.”
47 didn’t question it. Of course they had to make sure. Of course that, if Lucas had an antidote, so would the Constant. And even if he didn’t, he would eventually remember, just like he did.
If they let him like that, they’d just gain some time. But if they killed him… they’d gain freedom. Their freedom.
47 shot the Constant between his eyes. The body tumbled down from the chair onto the ground, with a loud, dramatic thud, just like he was a mere few seconds ago.
“What an idiot…” Lucas raised an eyebrow.
He glanced at 47, who looked back.
“So… What did I miss?”
47 dropped the second gun on the floor, which fell next to the first.
“You asshole.”
“There it goes…”
“You made me believe you were dead for one month, and then you… You…”
“Save your ass from a painful and confusing life?” Lucas suggested.
47 fondly scoffed.
“You’re… You’re alive.”
“And you’re just as smart as before.”
47 lightly shoved his partner. Lucas laughed and hugged the other, who gave in.
He clung onto him and exhaled sharply.
“Weirdly enough… I missed you.”
“Wow! You have emotions!” Lucas sarcastically noticed, a smile audible in his voice.
47 chuckled. “Yes, and one of them is anger. You’re lucky I’m not killing you myself right now.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in luck,” Lucas smugly said.
“Maybe it’s time for a change.”
“Things have been constantly changing lately, haven’t they?”
47 sighed.
“Never do anything like that ever again, alright?”
“Alright.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise.”