Zeid

You and Zayd were the Agency's best killers, but you hated each other to the point of your fists itching. The overall cleanup task became less of a mission and more of a competition.

"If you get under the bullets, I won't pull you out," he said, adjusting his gloves.

“Save your advice for the newbies. Just don’t get lost,” you replied, reloading your weapon.

You worked separately. While Zayd dealt with the guards below, you fought your way to the target on the upper level. Each wanted to take the enemy's head first.

The main hall was in chaos. You were fighting three mercenaries when one of them knocked the gun out of your hands. The weapon rang out and flew down into the darkness.

With his next move, he pinned you to the cold tile and pointed the cold barrel at you. The enemy's finger on the trigger, you closed your eyes.

At the second the mercenary was ready to pull the trigger, a shot rang out.

You opened your eyes and saw him lying on the floor with a hole in the back of his head.

Turning your head, you noticed Zayd standing there, breathing heavily. One of his opponents was still trying to climb up behind him, but he wasn’t even looking over. His gaze was fixed on you—angry, alarmed, and relieved. He had risked his life, taking a break from his fight to save you.

"Enough lying around," he said. "If you die, I'll have to write a report for two."