killshot | simon riley ✓

• Epilogue •

One year later...

Rora brushed a piece of black hair behind her ear as she let out a breath, sizing herself up in the reflective surface of the elevator she was in. She was a little nervous about her destination, but there was an underlying excitement making her panic a little more.

But Laswell didn't invite her to the headquarters of the CIA for nothing. She will be alright, she said to herself for the thousandth time that day. And Leilani made sure she looked hot and dangerous at the same time, now she just had to act like that, too.

The elevator stopped with a soft ding, halting to a stop way too soon for her. The metal doors opened, presenting her with a long hallway, only a few people lingering and going about their day like she wasn't even there. Straightening her back, she stepped out, the heel of her boots softly thumping along the dark carpet as she made her way to the biggest office, noticing Laswell's frame in there.

The office had all of its walls made out of glass, and Rora didn't like it. She didn't like feeling exposed, she preferred the private things in life. But as she made her way past other smaller offices and even a small communal room, nobody spared her a glance. It was comforting to know that nobody will stop her or interrogate her about her business. She would kick someone's teeth out if somebody would stop her.

She knocked on the glass door two times, the soft noise catching the woman's attention inside. It was so long since Rora has seen Kate Laswell, but the smile she offered to her felt like no time has passed. Laswell motioned for her to come in, Rora more than eagerly opening the door and steping inside.

„It's good to see you, Rora," Kate offered a genuine smile, Rora mirroring it. Her blue eyes followed Kate's hand that pressed a button, the walls around them darkening till nobody could see inside. Her mouth fell agape as she watched, being more and more impressed by the CIA.

„Fancy office," Rora looked around, noting how many monitors and screens had information about various missions on display. Her eyes lingered on a photo and a name specifically, already feeling how her heart started to beat faster. „You sure we won't get into trouble because of this?"

Their eyes met, Kate's pale blue eyes glinting with mischief, Rora's smile growing wider at the sight of it.

„They don't get a say in our business," Kate shrugged her shoulder as she turned back to press a few buttons on a computer. Rora watched with fascination as clips flashed in front of her on the big, multiple screens. She leaned against the central table, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she watched Kate work her magic. „And we can handle ourselves better than those men outside."

Rora snorted at her remark, the feminist and independent side of Kate Laswell being way more amusing than most people she met. She and Rora talked more since the unfortunate ending of her last mission, the recovery being a pain in the ass. Everybody knew that she probably won't be going back to the task force, her injuries were still not quite healed yet. She might never be her old self, and that was devastating. She hated military life, but she loved the new family she found in TF-141. Seeing how much that devastated Rora, Laswell offered her another chance: she could come work with her, mostly staying in the office but getting intel and directing the missions. It was a hard job, but this meant she could still work with her family.

It was a little secret Laswell and Rora shared, knowing how Price wouldn't give his blessings about the whole ordeal. But once Rora was an official agent working for Kate Laswell, there was no space for them to argue about. Because like Kate said, they can handle themselves just fine.

„Got a new intel a few hours ago," Kate informed her, pulling up a video on the central screen.

It showed a man sitting in a chair, his arms and ankles bound together, blood oozing from the gashes across his body. There were three men inside, two guarding the door and one walking around with a knife in his hand. They wore masks, assault rifles at the guards, and a pistol on the third man. The man bound to the chair was the one they were after, his name was Wilbur Cabot, a pretty important man who was the CEO of an upcoming business dealing guns. The men torturing him were trying to get the location of the guns, knowing that he happened to deal with some explosives, too. They needed all of them for their terrorist group.