Why am I doing this?

I must be crazy. I'm infiltrating into my own headquarters to get a stupid kid back from my own men, aided by a person who wants to kill me.

Why am I doing this? It's not like me. I'm clever. And calculating. And ruthless, dammit.

It's not a question I should be mulling over at the moment, either. I shouldn't be zoning out while kicking people in the face, counting on stupid Duke to cover my mistakes.

Entering the building was easy. Too easy, taking into account that it's one of my headquarters now. After this mission's over, I'll need to reconsider the further training of the guards. Lifelong learning, they say, and I must admit that it's a clever idea. When they heal up, I'll make Jorge show them a trick or two.

Why am I doing this, again?

I wish my brain would shut up. I wish I could hit people without causing serious injuries. I wish Gabriel were on the radio, telling me that she noticed I wasn't focusing and to put aside all my irrelevant thoughts until the end of the mission. Or, as an alternative she used in situations like this, to be honest with myself, because that's the only way to keep the voice in my head from repeating the same thing over and over.

How did she know that? Does she have a psychology degree, too? She might have one. I know nothing about her, except that her methods always worked.

All right, I'll be honest with myself. I know very well why I'm doing this. I can't buy her flowers. I can't take her to the movies. She doesn't give a shit about these things. But I can bring Tobey back to her because that's the only thing that matters to her. The safety of her lambs. It's her special interest.

So that's why I'm doing this. My brain is slow at rewriting old patterns. I'm stuck in the past when she mattered. A past, when I competed with my teammates for her attention. A past, when she talked to me, and I felt that the sun was shining on me. I'm risking my life for the same stupid dream I had. And the life of my men, too, because I'm hitting too hard, again, dammit.

"Concentrate, bro," Duke grunts, grabbing my shoulder with an unexpected force. "You'll get us both killed! Remember, they do have guns, all right?"

"All right." I shake my head. Gabriel's advice seems to work this time, too. The voice repeating the same question has disappeared, and I can concentrate on the task at hand, finally.

"Ready?" Duke asks before we take a turn on a seemingly endless corridor.

"Yes. We must be quick, too. When they notice that they're under attack, they'll ask for reinforcements. After that, we'll have no more than ten minutes to be out with Tobey."

"Don't be chicken," Duke laughs. "I'm here, bro. No matter how many will come, they will go down."

I roll my eyes. It's the only thing visible on my face, anyway.

"Yeah, dickhead, sure. But that's not what I'm worried about. They'd contact Jorge, and, mask or not, I couldn't fool him, or Boulder, or—"

"Sure thing," he interrupts me. "You still hit like a sledgehammer. It's quite emblematic. I thought you wanted your men to live, though. Without major brain injuries, I mean."

"Shut up."

The asshole grins. I can see it even through the mask. I wish I could punch him in the face, too, with one of those emblematic strikes, but without the risk of causing a brain injury. He doesn't have one, so he'd be safe.

"Do you know where the child is kept?" he asks.

"In one of the rooms."

"You could have just said no," he fumes. "It's a dungeon crawl then, right?"

I can't help but laugh. Duke's right. I'll never forget the countless hours we spent playing video games. When you work for the Agency, and you're not on a mission, there's not much you can do. You can't talk to anyone but your team members without restrictions, to begin with.

So, basically, you don't have a life. That's how you end up with an asshole like Duke for a pal and a nonexistent angel like Gabriel for a sweetheart.

If I'm ever born again, I won't forget to choose a healthier career line.

Until then, we're dungeon crawling, just like Duke said. We open all the doors, one by one, without knowing what's behind them. It's always a surprise. One man, or two, or a whole tribe of goblins, armed with crossbows—no, that was happening in the video game.

It's not the safest thing to do in reality. There's no reload option.

Still, I don't feel to be in danger.

It's Duke. To fight by his side again has that effect on me.

He's the second-best in the world, so he's still better than anyone else who's not me. So, as long as it's not an option to have me by my side, Duke is a reasonable choice.

It's a pity he wants to kill me. Because, even being brainless, he's still not as stupid as other people. He knows that I won't hit the target from the left when he's leaning to the right, because, honestly, who the fuck does that? I don't have to signal all these stupid trivialities to him because he's not an ignorant moron, like... well, like pretty much everyone else in the world. He also pays attention to my weak knee, making sure that I don't get kicked, and I must admit, his footwork is still the best. I'm stronger, but he's faster. So fast, I can hardly follow him sometimes.

Damn, it feels good. To be with someone I don't have to watch over, finally.

I can relax. I can drop my usual tools of the trade, too. I don't need to be rude to Duke, I just do it because it feels good.

But it won't last long now. We're closing on the asset, I know. Not because I'm a genius, simply because there aren't many rooms left in the building we haven't checked.

"Tobey's safety—" I start, turning to Duke, but he doesn't let me finish the sentence.

"I know. It's our top priority. I shield him. You take out the guards."

I nod.

He nods back.

We don't need to discuss anything. I know what to do. He knows what to do. We're a team.

"Why did you come back?" he asks, after a moment's silence. "There are so many cities in the world."

"Because this client pays a fortune," I tell him.

"I don't believe you. I think you came back to close the door to your past. Only to find out that your past is your present, and your dead are revived."

I stare at Duke, flabbergasted. He might have a degree in psychology, too. You can get one in four years, I guess.

"Why would I want that?" I ask him.

"Because you have problems," Duke says.

"I don't."

"Good for you." He shrugs. "I do. I drink."

I stare at him even harder. Duke is the bravest person I've ever known, without a doubt.

"A pity, bro."

And I'm, obviously, nowhere near him.

"It is," he admits. "It's also a pity that I have to kill you, but my door to the past must be closed, too."

"Right. Before Mr. Toe finds out that I'm alive."

Duke shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

"Well," I go on, "he's just a name to me now. In fact, he's always been. You all respected him so much. Him. Or her. As much as I know about him, he could be a woman too, like Gabriel, right?"

"He's not."

"Do you know him? In person?"

"Yes," Duke answers. "I found him when I was looking for—okay, I have no idea why I'm telling you this. It doesn't matter. The Agency doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is..."

"What is it?" I ask him when he trails off. He takes a very deep breath.

"That I have to kill you, asshole," he whispers, something that should be shouted, but can't be, because of Tobey. The painful tone resonates louder than any yell inside my head, though. "You make me kill you! It's not me, it's you! I told you a thousand times already."

"You never did, bro."

"I did," he says. "I did. In my head."

I take a deep breath, but I say nothing. I touch his shoulder briefly, and I point at the next door.

It's not the right time. My men behind that door have guns, and Duke hasn't changed a bit. He's still the same stupid noble with a morality code. He never hits first. That's where he got his name from, and I always thought that all this noblesse oblige nonsense would kill him one day.

I'll answer him when I don't need to hit first.