"Have you brought it, finally?"

Pavlov is sitting on a throne-like armchair, grinning like a Cheshire cat. He's looking more deranged than ever.

We're at his place. Or, at least, the one he uses as his base of operation.

He's not alone. I can't see his men, but I feel their presence. I can even tell where they are hiding, just by assessing Pavlov's eye-movement and perceiving a few noises.

Another useless piece of information. But the death demon doesn't know it. It has keen senses and can't stop using them.

"Yes, I brought it," I inform him.

"Where is it?"

"On my neck, at the moment."

I manage to surprise him. I hoped for a less cheap thrill to be my last pleasure in life, but never mind. Small things must be appreciated, that's the key to a fulfilling life, self-appointed online life coaches say. I'm quite sure their wisdom can be applied to a fulfilling death, too.

"Meaning what?"

"You can have my head," I tell him.

It sounds so natural. It was much easier to say it loud than I thought. I also should tell him that I'm not carrying a gun, and if he wants to interpret our agreement literally, that's okay by me, as well. There's nothing else to discuss, I guess.

Pavlov doesn't seem to agree. He stands up, pursing his lips together.

"Do you want a way out? Why, I wonder?

"None of your business," I answer. "The part that concerns you is that you won't get the formula. Not with my cooperation, at least. You need to find someone else, and it takes time."

He's silent for a second, shaking his head. Then, slowly but surely, a smile is creeping back to his face.

"You're amazing, dear son," he says. "You're simply amazing. You've always been my favorite, did you know that?"

Always? That's flattering, even if his version of eternity covers only a few months.

"But if you think that your stupid sacrifice can stop me," he goes on, "you're wrong. Everything's moving forward, just the way I planned from the start."

"It doesn't matter. You still can run out of time if you don't have the documentation. There are other competitors."

"Still, I can't accept your head," he interrupts me. "I can't let you back away from this contract. Not because I want you to suffer. Not at all, trust me—quite the contrary. I want you to be part of my plan. There is a place prepared for you by my side from the beginning."

I stare at him, trying to follow the lunacy coming out of his mouth. But I can't. He just crossed the thin line that separates visionary from delirious.

"I trusted you completely." His smile is getting scarier than Joker's. "And you never failed me. Oh, no. You've always been the strongest. The most talented of them all."

My head is reeling. I know there is a bigger picture behind this madness that I should comprehend, but he's talking too fast, and I'm thinking too slow.

"My heart was bleeding when you left me." He walks up to me, grabbing my shoulder. "But you returned to me with the most precious gift! With a tool to purify this filthy planet! And I want to share everything with you. Take your seat by me, dearest son, and have a role in the new creation!"

I try to take a step back, but he doesn't let me. He's much stronger than he looks. And I still can't grasp what's going on, other than a fleeting impression of familiarity, something I can't put my finger on yet. I came here to keep up my end of our bargain, not to be power-hugged by a raging madman.

"New creation?" I ask, playing along.

"This world needs it so badly! Can't you see what we've become? That's not how God has planned!"

"Probably not," I agree.

"I knew you'd understand me! I've been protecting this country for so long! Just like you! But humans don't deserve it, right? They do terrible things!"

"They do." I nod, trying to take another step back, keeping my distance from him. Somewhere, deep in my guts, a suspicion starts to take form.

"Like, look at you!" he goes on rambling. "You live in sin! But you're still nothing compared to the leaders of the world! Oh, the tales I could tell! I've seen too much, dear son, too much."

I take another sneaky step back. Where were Pavlov's men hiding, again? I might need that piece of knowledge, on second thought.

"And what are you going to do about it?" I ask, closing my eyes for a second, allowing my ears to do their job.

"Why, it already happened," he giggles. "It's just a little sequence that must be changed in the vaccine. And, ta-da, it's turned into a weapon of mass destruction! A shot makes the human body an incubator for the virus, and no one will notice it until it's too late."

There are only four persons in the room other than Pavlov. I also know the exact position of the three of them. The fourth one is constantly moving.

"Fascinating," I answer. "But what about your plans to restore the honor of hard work? I doubt this vaccine-turned-biological-weapon can tell the difference between useless and useful people."

He lets out a spine-chilling, maniac laughter. He's undoubtedly crazy. The things he's seen must have been too much for his mind to handle, indeed.

"That was just for the distraction, dear son. Imagine how grateful those useless freak-show weirdos will be when I gracefully change my mind and grant them the vaccine. They will be the first in line!"

He laughs again. I take another step back.

"And how do you plan to survive?" I inquire.

"I don't! I don't need to survive! I'm needed to purify the planet! The new creation is God's job, not mine!"

"How tempting," I mutter, trying to get into a position to attack. "And you want my help, right?"

"Not just your help! You, as my partner! Come on, Mint! You've always been the very best! And you're not a fucking boy scout, you're brave enough to embrace the darkness in you! What do you say, son?"

I need to live long enough to contact Duke.

That's what I'd say if I said anything at all.

But I keep my mouth shut, and my muscles flexed. My next move will make it evident for him that my offer regarding my head is canceled, anyway.

I let the death demon take over.

I push the old man to the ground, and I jump over him, targeting one of his men. He's hiding behind a half-open door, and he's not particularly good; it's enough to hit him once to knock him out. I find a way to neutralize the second one, too, swiftly, by kicking him in the gut, then, in the face.

They have guns, but they don't shoot them. They want to avoid their boss getting in friendly fire, but still, it's a bit strange.

I understand everything when I get to the third man. He's kneeling behind a desk, and I attack him from the right. He notices me too late. He turns in my direction to fight me, but I'm faster. I raise my fist to knock him out.

Then, I see his face, and I freeze for a second.

It's one of my old teammates.

My hesitation gives him enough time to pull the trigger.

It doesn't feel like being shot. It feels like my limbs being filled with an icy liquid that slows me down.

A tranquilizer shot, then. I kneel. Then, I fall.

I close my eyes for a second. I don't want to look at that face again. He shouldn't be here. If Agency people are involved, it means that—

"It's a new technology, darling boy," my old big boss-new big client says, looking down at me. "First, it renders you immobile, then, it causes an insufferable pain in your muscles if you try to move. So don't try, okay? It's only a temporary inconvenience."

I try to answer, but my facial muscles are affected, too. My eyes fill with tears when I attempt to open my mouth.

"Don't exert yourself, son." He has the audacity to touch my hair in a mocking fatherly way that makes me want to spit him in the eyes. "When I asked if you wanted to side with me, it was a rhetorical question. You're part of the new creation, want it or not. You deserve it. You're the one I trust."

I feel like I'm going to be sick. I'd like to ask him how infinite trust and turning me into a sack of potatoes match, but I don't need to. He answers my unspoken question.

"I just wanted to give you time to think," he says. "I know how hard it can be, to cope with everything you discovered. You need time, Mint, to accept this gift I'm giving to you. The boys will take you back to the Agency's headquarters, okay? We'll talk later. Be well."

On our way to the Agency, in the car, we have a very insightful conversation, my old teammate and I. Well, it's mental, on my part, but he really likes to talk while driving.

"Sorry for shooting you, Mint," he says, "I had no other choice."

That's the excuse of the weak. There's always a choice.

"I never thought that I would best you one day."

You didn't, asshole. Try again when this fucking drug leaves my system if you dare.

"You know what they say, no matter how strong you are if you don't know where the strike comes from."

From a fucking traitor. That was a surprise, indeed.

"When we arrive there, you'll see other familiar faces, too."

When we arrive there, I'll have no way to escape anymore because you all follow the orders of a lunatic. Are you completely mad? All of you?

"Well, only three members of our old team are alive, to be honest. And Duke. Remember him? Of course, you do; he was your friend. Well, he's the only one who knows nothing about the things going on at the Agency. He's always been a fucking goody two shoes, with that noblesse oblige nonsense. Mr. Toe hasn't even tried to turn him."

So not all of you. I thought so. Well, in other words, Duke is the Agency now. A one-person Agency. Everyone else is a terrorist.

"Stop looking so angry, Mint."

I am angry. And I need to do something before we get there.

"You have no idea how effective these new generation immobilizer guns are."

And you have no idea how effective a death demon is.

He looks positively astounded when I elbow him in the nose.

The pain is numbing, but I refuse to pay attention to it. I order my body to move, no matter how torturous it is. I hook my arm around his neck, and I don't let go until he stops breathing.

I can't control the car, though. We run into a fence. I'm lucky it's not a brick wall.

I crawl out of the car, and I flee on all fours, shouting curses. It's not one of my most glorious moments, I must say. I hide behind a garbage container, and I try to think.

One, I discovered a conspiracy.

Two, I've been working for the same person, inside and outside of the Agency.

Three, I'm still alive.

Well, let's do something with these three pieces of information, shall we? This game isn't over yet.

I need to find Duke. But his phone is one hundred percent tapped. So I must find him in person.