"Bedelia Du Maurier, you're supposed to be dead." A slab of documents pelted the lap of the blonde woman. An accumulation of her life up until her early twenties. Jack gave her an appraising look, searching for a crack, a reaction of sorts.

"It's a miracle." A sarcastic replied in a deadpanned manner, only added to the tension of the room. Bedelia had no qualms about something so obvious. A part of her wanting to insult the agent's rather insolent opening so early in the morning.

"And you, you don't have a file at all! No birth certificate, no traceable passport, no citizenship. It's like you never existed." Jack pointed at the teen situated at Bedelia's side. She hasn't left the older woman since the shooting incident.

Bedelia was terribly exasperated by the agent. Even though she recommended they leave the godforsaken hospital, the agent refuses to commit to her demands. She was sure that the man is a fool for not foreseeing the hazardous logistics required to evade death, especially against the single-minded determination of a deranged powerful woman. Currently, the older woman a kind this situation to a politician under house arrest.

"Because she doesn't exist. . . Technically." The ex–handler replied, fully intending to incite confusion into the man. She was far more unbearable than some of the most pompous agents she previously assisted on missions.

She knew Jack was a righteous man, a man of loyalty and dignity. But that sort of self-righteous attitude doesn't match with the dark decay of reality. The woman learned early on that being righteous and kind does not feed you or give you power. It does not protect you in your time of need. To survive in the world whilst blind of these facts, makes her question the in-depth capacity of his understanding of the situation.

"Technically?" Jack replied curiously.

"Well. . . It isn't hard to make a person disappear." Bedelia replied flippantly, giving away just enough clues to drive the man's curiosity, but not enough to answer his queries. Abigail on the other hand was shocked by the spouted information, hearing it for the first time. 'If I died today, no one would know.' The passing thought alarmed the teen.

"You're lying. If you had the capability to do that, why didn't you erase yours? It would be a joke if you left an identity behind that's traceable."

"It was for my own self-satisfaction." Bedelia uttered passively, but question did hit a nerve. Jack raised a brow, as if challenging her statement.

"Have you ever imagined what it would be like to die without a trace? It was like you were never born, no impact, no family, no identity. You become like a shadow in the peripheral of a person passing by at an empty street at night. Asking 'is someone there?', and running away."

"I wanted to live a mark that I lived. Even if it is just a speck." Bedelia added, supplementing her true thoughts. She didn't want to disappear without anyone mourning her loss, at the event of her inevitable death. She doesn't want the last people who will know of her and her name, to only be a rambunctious teen and a serial murderer roaming around from place to place at a whim.

"And how is she a part of all this? Unless child labor is part of your M.O.." Jack gestured to the slumped figure of the teen.

"She isn't one of us, but she is a mischievous little brat. The details concerning her are . . . Irrelevant as of now." The woman was at her wits end. She would usually drink when her irritation has reached its peak. But no passable alcohol was in sight, and she wasn't exactly a fan of morphine, even if it was currently part of her medication for her leg's pain relief.

"Cut straight to the point. And ask me what you need, not minute details that are made for bluffs and pleasantries."

"Alright, who is after Will?" Jack finally shot his most valued query.

"She is known by her pseudonym 'M'. She is the head of the organization that I used to be employed at. Currently, she is one of the most powerful people in the underground society. . . For the rest of that society, 'M' is known as a man. Try to gather all information about her if you can. She has an illustrious list of past illegal afflictions." Bedelia replied, leaving out the . . . Unwanted details regarding Hannibal's relation to the woman. That would only complicate things. It could trigger Jack's rather impulsive nature, which has observed to be rather mercurial.

"Why is—"

"The why is not important. But their goal is to either assassinate or kidnap your employer. Money isn't a hinder on her side, nor does she want the boy's. . . She just wants a clean disposal." Bedelia interjected, eyeing a rather quiet Abigail. The girl hasn't spoken since the incident, and was in a state of haze. The older woman took this as a sign that the girl finally understood the severity of her actions and the lack of affection her mother had for her.

"Why are you here then? Why are you helping us?"

"You are sorely mistaken if you think I am doing this for your employer. I am doing this for my own benefit, and mine alone."

"You can provide me protection." The woman added.

"If what your saying is true, then you should have the connections to protect yourself!"

"Is your intelligence sorely lacking in all functional departments? What sane person would want to help people who angered the person holding their leashes? I am not asking your help because I had an option to! I am demanding your help out of desperation!" Bedelia finally snapped. The agent was a fool of he thought this was out of the goodness of their hearts or just a bothersome resolve.

Jack took in the cold anger directed against him, and relished in it. It has been a long time since open hostility of this level was felt by him. He didn't know how dangerous the woman presently before him, but an inkling was dropped at her puzzling remarks. Jack turned, and left the room without a word. Opting to stay at the monitoring room, where he sat and tried to frame a way to gouge more information from the two intruders.

Jack wasn't lost to the fact that he losing end of Bedelia's mind game. At first review of the recordings of his interrogation of the woman, it may seem as though he got substantial information, but the further you look at it, all that was spilled were surface level conversations and answers. It lacked technicalities and more so reliant on subjective impulses. It was a technique to evade unwanted questions, an intelligent move.

Will was infuriated, a silent anger filled him. His face was plastered in a puff piece like memorial written by none other than the detestable Freddie Lounds. His unconscious face, marked the pages of the tabloid website. How she got the pictures, he would never know. But triggered the fury was the insinuation that he was affiliated with the mafia and his state in the pictures was retaliation for angering a prominent drug producer in a syndicate. All wild baseless speculations driving his reputation down.

He placed his phone at the beside of his hospital bed. The moon was high, but he couldn't admire it, for the fear of another sniper aiming at him was eminent. Lying back, he closed his eyes trying to calm himself. It's been days since the bombing of his office, and no progress yet on how to deal with Hannibal's sister.

A pair of footsteps silently entered the room, a voice suddenly raised from the dark void.

"Hello, Will."

"How is it that you always find me?" A smirk was carved on the assassin's cheek, when the millionaire finally opened his eyes. Hannibal crept near the other man, finally seeing each other face to face, after the long interval of his absence.

"He has a tracking device." Bedelia replied, pointing to her own cheek, announcing her presence in the darkly lit room. It finally dawned on the millionaire that the tracking device the man placed in his mouth was still present.

"Thats how he found out you were in Italy in the first place. What an adorable stalker you have." Bedelia sarcastically added, as she seated herself at the exact same chair that led to her being injured. It was triumphant goading against the inanimate object.

"Sorry to ruin your . . . Romantic reunion. But we have more pressing issues to attend to."