A/N: This was an old fic I wrote in 7th Grade for an English Assignment, but then I realized that my teachers might not like it (My teachers really hate violent stories). Afterward, it was sitting in one of my emails drafts. I polished it a little, and now present it to you.

The Conditioning. That was it.

It told me to kill, it told me to destroy.

It told me to protect my Handler.

It told me that I am his sword and shield.

It told me that any orders he gave me were to be obeyed, without hesitation.

Jean, my Handler, always said to kill terrorists, and government opposition, especially Padania.

He once told me that we undertake the government's dirty work, which I don't really understand, because we don't do dirty things, like throwing garbage away.

Jean had always hated terrorists and told me to kill them, so I did.

But this time, it was different.

He was just a boy at the wrong place, at the wrong time.

He was so kind, and easy to talk to,

But I could never find the words to say.

I had only met him yesterday,

But that was enough to make me like him.

And now, right after I killed my targets,

Emilio had come to the floor of the assassination.

If you are seen on a job, it is your duty to kill anyone who sees. Do you understand?

I understand.

I remember these words, because Jean said them.

"Rico? What are you doing here?"

My mind goes blank, and I can't find the words I need to say.

"Of Course. I remember them."

As I raise my Silenced CZ-75 to his head, smiling, I feel a slight burning in my chest. Maybe this is what heartache feels like, just like Triela told me. I add a side note.

"I am Sorry."