Red Six

Chapter One | 1

Killing a target can be hard or easy, but killing the personas I've created has always reached a whole other level of complication. After all, I can't just snipe myself.

A simple shake clears my head, and I check that my gun is at my waist. "Alright." The light from the main street darkens as my face changes again. "Alright, Staci, you there?"

Kaitlyn's AI takes just a beat longer than Three to answer. "I'm here," she says.

I tap at the bracelets on my wrists, an illusion of jeans and a t-shirt settles over me, and just like that, I've become Sara Lewis. "Is Taylor on track?"

"I've located her through camera seven-eighty-six, about a block from the complex," Staci replies.

One step into the street, I pause. "What." Shoot. No, no, no. "She's early."

"You're late," Three counters.

I glance at the time, curse, and break into a sprint. "Staci-stall her. Three, get me the visual."

"Affirmative," Staci says. "Running program Replica."

In the corner of my display, a feed pops up. Despite the pace I take, weaving past vehicles and people in a blur, I keep half my focus on the video. Taylor steps into the footage. Seconds later, a man bumps into her-except, it's not really a man. It's Staci, though no one else would know it. She keeps up a flawless impersonation of a creep from the pub, down to the very twitch in her eye. The illusion's demeanor twists into a leer, and Taylor edges away.

Now just a corner from the altercation, I slow to a stroll. My breathing evens out as I take the turn, nearly striding right into Taylor's back. I make a show of joining her side and dropping a glare on Staci. "Is there a problem here?"

Staci smooths the man's look into something neutral. "Not at all. Me 'n the pretty lady were just talkin'."

"Well this 'pretty lady' happens to be my coworker, and she doesn't look too happy about chatting with you, Jackson. I suggest you leave before I run out of reasons why we shouldn't have our own little chat." I unsheathe my knife with a practiced ease, but leave it hanging at my side out of view of the surveillance cameras. No need to give Sara Lewis any red flags before she dies.

With raised hands, the illusion of Jackson backs off down the street. I lay a hand on Taylor's shoulder and re-sheathe the knife. "You good?"

She glares after the illusion and nods sharply, but her arm shakes beneath my grasp. "I could've gone inside, but I didn't want him to follow me. Should've just put him in his place."

My lips turn down as I guide her towards the entrance. That would have been unfortunate-both for the sake of her knuckles and the keeping of the illusion, it's best that she didn't. "You can't afford to lose your job right now." Taylor huffs in acknowledgment as the door clangs shut behind us and we start up the steps.

I wait five flights of stairs and half a hall of walking before I speak again. "Here." I loosen the sheathe and knife from my side and press them into her hand. "Keep this. I have another."

We've reached my apartment, now, and hers is the one next door. She gives me a grin, I smile back, and then the apartment door closes between us.

The thud of my head against the door sounds as hollow as I feel. I take a deep breath.

That's six months of friendship ended. She knew things about me that I'd told no one else but Kaitlyn. How I always pretend. Why I hate the war. That I'm always alone.

I need a distraction.

"Three, pull up folder 481 and run facial analysis against the blonde in the alley. No civilian is going to just randomly look that much like Kaitlyn, much less an agent."

Staci clicks in distress. "Those pictures are of Kaitlyn, Ara. You are breaking the rules for nothing, and-"

"Five matches found," Three interrupts.

I hum. "Focus on your task, Staci. Is everything in place?"

Staci's light blinks, indicating that her processing power briefly leaves my jacket. "Structural packages are all in place," she answers after a moment. "Floor-wide package is activated. Apartment package initiation sequence begun."

I have maybe a minute. "Three, bring up those pictures."

Five photographs appear, projected on the wall. I study the girl depicted. In four of the pictures, she's at my younger self's side. In one, she stands alone. "That's not Kaitlyn."

"It is not," Three confirms.

"Don't forget," they told me. Hypocrites who break their own orders.

"Remember the Rules, Ara," Staci warns.

The Rules. "Don't trust."

I let my thumb brush against the photo, and then turn away.

"Don't care."

She wasn't an imaginary friend.

"Don't idealize."

Kaitlyn had a twin.

"Don't hesitate."

I had another sister.

"Don't diverge."

They can't stop me if I do.

"Suit, Staci."

My b-jacket morphs, illusion falling away and suit wrapping around me as the apartment explodes into white.