Why am I doing this?

I must be crazy. I'm infiltrating into Mint's headquarters to get a kid back from his army, sided by a person whom I should kill.

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

Okay, to be honest, I know why.

It's Mint. Everyone else slows me down, except for him.

I'm quicker, but he's stronger. He hits like a goddamn beast. I can't be grateful enough for not facing him this time. His anger is fueled by his fear for Tobey's life, and when he's angry, he doesn't become hot. He becomes cold. The harder you press him, the cooler he feels. That's where he got his name from.

I know this. I know him. We're a team.

To fight by his side again is the next best thing to sex. Okay, it also depends on what kind of sex. Sometimes it's even better.

But it won't last long now. We're closing on the asset, I know. Not because I'm a genius, simply because I hear Tobey's screams from the room next to us.

Mint kicks the door in before I can blink. I leap towards the kid to shield him, but it's not even necessary. Mint dropkicks a man in the chest, punches another one in the face and knocks out the third with the gun he took from the first one.

The guards are down in less than two seconds, nice and clean, with a deadly precision suggested in the textbook of how to neutralize people without making a noise, if there was a textbook about this very important and practical science. Maybe we should co-write one with Mint.

They don't even have enough time to get properly scared. Tobey does. Before we showed up, he's been screaming because he was cheering for the characters on the TV, running around, shooting at each other. Now he's screaming because he's afraid of us. And, because he wants to see the end of the film, which is something I'd find relatable if it weren't a fucking Bond movie. What's wrong with people these days, seriously?

"Hey, Tobey, it's us," I tell him. "We're bringing you back to Miss Edie."

He doesn't believe me. Mint has to take his mask off and show his face to him. When Tobey recognizes him, he hugs him tight, clinging to Mint like a little monkey to his mother, with a relieved smile on his face.

The kid knows nothing about human nature.

"Why did you kill my friends?" he asks, after planting a few slimy kisses on Mint's cheeks.

"I didn't kill them," Mint says. "They'll wake up. They are my friends too, you know."

Good to know. Mint isn't an expert in martial arts only, he also seems to have a PhD in how to confuse a kid. When Tobey gets violent with his classmates, and Gabriel learns that he's doing it out of love, I hope she'll be able to calculate where the inspiration came from. Not from me, obviously.

"Let's go," Mint commands, securing Tobey on his left hip.

"But I want to see the movie," he protests.

"We're saving you and your taste, kiddo," I tell him. "This is bad for your development. You already have problems, no need to multiply them."

Mint's staring daggers at me.

"You, bro," I turn to him, "just put your mask back. You're such a hypocrite! Saving him now, just to let him die a little later, right? To tell the truth, his new 'friends' were much less dangerous to him than you are, bro."

"Shut up, Duke," Mint grunts.

"Why should I? This kid is one of those who won't get the vaccine, according to Pavlov. He has the right to know about it."

"He's four years old, for God's sake! You're scaring him."

"Strange," I sigh. "You worry for his peace of mind, but you have no qualms about killing him."

The next moment, he hits me. His right fist grazes my cheekbone. Should Tobey's weight not slow him down, I'd have no chance to evade it, and I'd be joining his other so-called friends, lying unconsciously under our feet.

"Are you nuts?" I shout at him. "Do you want to carry me too, or what?"

"Like fuck I'm carrying you. I'd leave you here."

"To be found by your men?"

"Why not?" He shrugs. "They'd bring you to me."

"Right before your exalted presence, right? Well, I might tell them a thing or two on our way there about your royal highness, asshole."

"Not if they gag you."

I know I should shut up. I know that look in Mint's eyes. But I can't. My voice is trembling, but I have to ask him once again.

"Are you sure that's what you want, Mint?"

He doesn't answer.

"This kid is no one to you, all right," I go on.

Still no answer. Mint's only reaction is that he's hugging Tobey with both of his arms now, as if he wants to shield him from the truth I'm exposing.

"But what about Gabriel?" I ask him. "Do you really want to see her dead?"

"Yeah, exactly," he spits. "What about Gabriel? As mental as Pavlov is, he has nothing against kindergarten teachers. Or ugly women. Or geniuses. Or ex-angels. So stop bugging me with her death, at least."

"You have no idea, right?" I stare at him with grim amusement. "You haven't even noticed it."

"What? She's not gay. She's not ill. She's not poor. So what?"

"She's disabled," I enlighten him.

"Like fuck she is," he snorts. "How could she be disabled? Try to come up with something else, bro."

"Well, I'm not making this up, mate. It's the doctors."

"What doctors?"

"Normal doctors." I shrug.

"They can't be normal," Mint disputes. "They've obviously lost their minds."

"They just—"

"Hey. Can those doctors operate missions, two hundred and fifty times, without losing a man? Or, can they calculate the possibility of anything? Absolutely anything that may or may not be happening under the Sun? Can they?"

"No," I admit. "They can't."

"And they are normal, and Gabriel is disabled. Right. You know what, bro, I think that those doctors are idiots."

I nod involuntarily. But it's not my opinion he's discussing, anyway.

"It's science," I point out, trying to sound confident.

"Science? What science? Is it grammar? Listen, bro. Dis-abled. It means not able. Do you know anyone more able than Gabriel? Of course, you don't. Science, my ass."

"It's neuro—"

"So those doctors would do themselves a favor by shutting up. They are digging themselves into a hole, bro. Do they really want to be compared to Gabriel, deciding who's more able? I don't think so. Haha. Nonsense."

I give up. Mint's obviously not getting the concept, and we don't have more time to waste.

Our way out is a quiet one, except for Tobey humming Hakuna Matata into Mint's neck.

I lead, Mint follows. I feel his gaze burning through my skin, under my left shoulder blade. The formula is implanted there. He doesn't know it, of course, but having him walking behind my back still makes me uneasy.

We encounter no resistance. Mint is lucky. If we met his men right now, I'd let them shoot him without remorse.

Okay, I probably wouldn't. He's carrying Tobey. The kid might get hurt, too.

But that's the only reason.