I crouched down beside the dumpster, waiting and watching. He would come. I knew he would. After the message that I sent him last night, he would most certainly be here.

The setting sun bore down on my back, making me sweat and wish I hadn't worn such a thick sweater. The choice between the black sweater and my endless array of dresses had not been an easy one. However, my decision to wear the dark piece of clothing had been calculated on my part, ensuring that I would not be spotted immediately in the dark.

Tires screeched against the gravel but I didn't move a muscle. It was too early to blow my cover. I needed to know what I was up against. I needed to know that he had come alone. The dark car came to a stop a few feet beside the dumpster. I counted backward from ten, like I had been taught to do, before daring to take a peek at the man stepping out of the car.

I had never met the enigmatic Jason Chance in person. Despite spending hours straining over pictures and documents linked to my target, he had remained somewhat of a mystery to me. Why did he kill my brother? Why was he working for Mr. Big? What did he have to gain?

I smiled.

Last night I had stumbled across a crucial lead about my target, he had nothing to gain in this game but rather had something to lose. Jason might have been a monster but there were people he cared about. There were two brothers who he had so carefully kept hidden from the world. That was something we had in common, our willingness to die for our family, to knock at death's door in an effort to protect those who we loved. In a sick way, I felt connected to my target.

I sighed. I am calm and collected. I am in control.

Even as my target strode to the front of the car, his eyebrows furrowed and a cigarette in his hand, I stayed still and watched. He was wearing a navy-blue suit. With his hair slicked back and shoulders relaxed, my target was the epitome of calm. I knew better. After years of studying him, I had picked up on a few things.

Jason Chance had quit smoking years ago. The fact that he had his fingers curled around a cigarette told me that he was on edge. There was also the way that he kept raking his fingers through his dark hair that gave away that he was nervous, afraid even.

Good, I thought. He should be afraid. After the hell he put me through, he should be afraid. The man flicked his cigarette and turned away from the dumpster, placing his hands on his hips. Maybe he was wondering I wouldn't show, that he had lost his brothers forever. I wanted to stay behind the dumpster and let him continue to suffer. That is what he deserved.

I took a deep breath. I am calm and collected. I am in control. Slowly I pulled out my gun. A wave of tranquility washed over me at the familiarity of it in my hands.

My task had been simple. Locate the target, shoot and don't ask questions. That is what I had been doing for as long as I could remember, locate and kill. Never get involved, ever. A year ago, when I had been assigned to Jason Chance, I brushed off my connection to him. I didn't bother telling Bluebird that I had been trying to trace him for months leading up to my assignment. Bluebird never assigned us targets who we had ties to. It was one of her rules, the way she kept people like me safe.

People like me.

What would my brother think about people like me? When Bluebird approached the two of us almost 10 years ago, we had no idea what we were signing up for. All I could think about was the promise of money, home-cooked meals and maybe even a family. My brother had always wanted to protect me all his life. He hated killing, even if the people we had been assigned to shoot were the bad guys. He always said it was wrong no matter what.

After adjusting the scarf around my neck and pushing my shades higher, I crept towards the man. He had no idea anyone was behind him until he heard the click of the gun. By then I had already pressed the muzzle of my gun against his skull. He slowly raised his hands but didn't turn around. Behind the back of his ear, there was a tattoo in the shape of a triangle, a symbol professing his loyalty to Mr. Big.

"Turn around, slowly," I barked and the man complied. He would listen, of course, because it wasn't his life on the line but rather his brothers'. My target's eyes quickly scanned me and then he smirked, clearly unimpressed with what stood before him. He was a good head taller than me but I could take him down with my eyes closed. Chance was a great shot but he was a shit fighter. Everyone knew this about him.

"Okay. Not what I was expecting," he said, still smiling.

Easily, I levelled the gun so that it was pointing between the man's eyes. "It would be in your best interest to take me seriously. That is if you want to see your brothers alive." The smile from my target's face vanished. His jaw tightened at my words. It was my turn to grin. I continued. "My men are standing by right now. As soon as I say the word, they are dead." That was a lie. There was nobody standing by. There never was. I liked to work alone.

"Where are they?" he spat, his eyes filled with venom as he stared me down.

"Safe," I answered, flicking my hood back to reveal my dark hair. It was dyed black this time, a stark contrast to my natural pale blond hair. "For now." The man curled his hands into fists, while I pulled out my phone.

"What do you want?" he muttered. He was practically shaking right now.

"Answers." He was confused by my response. Jason Chance was a rich man as I had come to realize during the past year and a half. If anybody had ever blackmailed him, it would have been for his money. I didn't want his money.

I just wanted to shoot him. My fingers itched to pull the trigger.

"I need proof that my brothers are safe." This was something I had been expecting, something that I had planned for. Keeping my gun on Chance, I pulled up the number and hit call. Two rings later a little boy answered.

"Sweetie, your brother wants to talk to you," I said to the kid on the other end. My eyes were focused on my target. One thing about Chance was certain, he was incredibly unpredictable. That is how he had evaded the agency for years, by always doing the unexpected. If Chance hadn't killed my brother I would have found this trait to be exciting, sexy even. Right now, it was inconvenient.

I handed Chance the phone and he took it immediately. He started speaking to the boy in German, most likely under the impression that I had no idea what he was talking about. I didn't. In fact, I had no idea that Chance even spoke German. Italian and French, I knew for certain he spoke, but not German. Damn. This was going to be a problem.

Stay calm. The boys would come through. I knew they would.

When I had been tracking Jason yesterday, I had no idea about the gold mine that I would soon stumble across. He led me straight to a fancy apartment complex, where his younger brothers had been living with a nanny. It had been easy to convince them to come with me. A little bit of ice cream and a dash of the truth about their brother was all it took.

"What did you tell them?" my target seethed as he pulled the phone away from his ear. Good. The boys were mad at their brother.

"The truth about their big brother," I answered calmly. Tipping my head to the side, I smiled at him sweetly. "I told them that you killed 26 people. Kids hate bad guys." His eye twitched ever so slightly but within seconds he was calm. His face betrayed no hint of emotion now. My target's face was almost statue-like in appearance. I found it to be slightly startling and unexpected, given the situation.

Jason Chance had adapted to his surroundings. As we spoke, gears were turning in his head, connecting pieces of information together and formulating a plan.

"Who are you?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at me. I mulled over his question for a brief moment.

Who was I? A murderer? A vengeful sister? Perhaps, I was both of those things.

"There is a video on the phone," I explained, pointing at the device in his hands with my gun. "Watch it." Jason found the 30-second video and hit play. I had watched it almost 37 times in the last year and a half, combing it for clues about my brother's death. In it, a stone-faced Jason Chance put a bullet through my brother's head. My sibling was wearing a black sack over his face but the necklace around his neck and the thin black tattoo snaking around his arm was how I knew it was him.

Jason's face didn't reveal even a sliver of what was going through his mind. "Here," my target said before handing me back the phone. I didn't take it.

That is when I snatched the scarf down and pulled the glasses off before tossing them aside. "Why did you kill him?" I asked flatly, forgetting everything that I was going to say or do to him.

"You're her," Jason muttered in response, his face still a picture of calm. The comment surprised me. He wasn't supposed to know who I was, no one did. I had been off the grid for so many years that there was no trace of me left. The only person who knew of my existence was Bluebird. "You're Xavier's kid sister." My brother had only been 3 years older than me but he always treated me like I was a damn baby.

Shit. My eyes were a striking green colour that matched my brother's. That is what had given me away. I should have kept the glasses on. I wasn't thinking straight. Maybe it was the sun or maybe it was the fact that I was standing so close to my brother's killer, but my head was starting to spin.

The man standing before me lowered his arms and then I saw it, pity in his eyes. My brother's murderer felt bad for me. This disgusted me. It sent a hot wave of anger through me. "Tell me why you did it?" I asked, waving the gun at him and trying my best to stay in control.

"I didn't do anything, Emma." My hand shook when he mentioned my real name. I had gone by Sparrow for so long that my real name felt so unfamiliar to me now. Emma had died as soon as I shot my first target at 17. Now I was a hollow shell of who I had once been.

"You killed my brother and now I am going to kill you." Chance let out a heavy sigh but didn't waver.

"Your brother isn't dead." For a brief second, I thought about his words, tried to imagine what it would be like if my brother was still alive. Chance was an unpredictable and manipulative asshole. There was no way Xavier was alive. If he had been, he would have reached out to me and never let me suffer like this for the last 18 months.

"Do you think I am a fucking idiot?" I yelled. "There is no way in hell Xavier is alive."

"You have to believe me. Xavier is my friend and I would never hurt him." Lies. Chance was lying through his teeth. Someone poked their head out from the back of Chance's car, their face obscured by a bandana.

"I told you to come alone, asshole!" I smacked my gun against my target's head and he crumpled to the floor. He groaned as he pressed his hands against his face. Then I raised my gun and shot the guy in the car but he was too fast. The man ducked inside just as the bullet ricocheted off the window of the car. Not surprising that the windows were bulletproof.

The guy in the car raised his hand and waved at me, pulling the bandana away from his face. "Don't shoot, Starburst!" My whole body froze at the sound of my childhood nickname. There was only one person who used to call me that.

"Xavier?" I tried, lowering my gun and stepping forward. Leaning out from the car was my supposedly dead brother. He had grown a beard since the last time I saw him but when I looked at his sharp eyes, I knew it was him.

"What the hell were you waiting for, dude?" Chance sat up slightly on his elbows and glared at my brother. The corners of my brother's lips were turned up at the sight of Chance sprawled across the ground.

When he offered my sworn enemy a hand, I lifted the gun up again, this time aiming it at my brother. He came to a startling stop and stared at me with his head cocked. "What are you doing, Emma?"

"You're working for Mr. Big, aren't you?" When he didn't respond, I took a step towards him and pressed the gun against his chest. "I thought you were dead."

"Put the gun down," he said calmly but I didn't budge. "Emma," he warned. My brother effortlessly grabbed my wrist before pulling the gun away from me. He had quick reflexes and could most definitely take me down if we were to fight, unlike Chance, who still sat bewildered on the ground.

"Tell me what's going on," I whispered, wrapping my arms around myself. Night had fallen. The humidity of the day still hung in the air but there was a coldness seeping into my bones.

"Everything you know about Bluebird and the agency is a lie," he said easily before dropping the gun to his friend and placing his hands on my shoulders. "She isn't the good guy, Emma. She never was."

|| Author's Note ||    

I hope you guys enjoyed the story.   

I was inspired to write this because of some books I read recently with similar premises. Initially, I planned to kill Jason Chance but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I wanted the ending of this short story to be a little ambiguous and open to the interpretation of the readers.

Have a good one. :)