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Sydney waltzed through the airport. Her blonde wig bounced in her preppy outfit. She looked confident as she waited for her luggage. But inside, she was breaking. She had been on her missions for almost a month now, and it felt like she had made no progress yet. Quickly hailing a cab, she got in. "6th and Mason." She instructed. As she was carried away, she picked up her phone. Quickly, she dialed the only seven numbers the phone would call. "I assume it was a success?" Sloane's gruff voice said.
"Yes. I have the contracts you asked me to get signed. I will be at the office in about 10 minutes." She masked her voice for the cabbie.
"Good. I will meet you at the corner. You have the hard drive correct?"
"Yes."
"Good." Sydney heard the dead silence of a dropped conversation, and quickly hung up the phone. She pulled out the list of things she needed to do. 13 were crossed off. She pulled out a pen, and victoriously crossed of one more. 14. Only a lot more to go. And Sloane even bumped it up one. She now had 28 missions. The number was only going to keep growing, and she knew it.
The CIA called her daily to see where she was. She wouldn't call them back ever. She would show up on occasion, just to keep them from worrying about her missing again. For three months, she had so little human contact that everyone was starting to worry. She was assigned to see Barnett, but never showed up. It was pointless. Vaughn's desk was right next to Barnett's office. She would have to pass him. He would have to know that she couldn't deal with this.
"Here you go Miss. That will be $11.24." Sydney paid the cabbie and smiled politely. She walked up to the corner of the building and looked above her. Sloane never made her wait long. Sure enough, as soon as she stepped out of the cab, a small blue car came speeding around the corner; she got in, and immediately handed the documents she recovered to Sloane.
"Any trouble?"
"No."
"Next week I have a meeting for you to attend. At which you will be meeting Anton Greane. He is one of those that you have been ordered to kill."
"I know. He has a wife and three young daughters."
"You shouldn't have looked so into his life."
"You're the one that gave me that information."
"That was for Sark. He will be accompanying you."
"Ok."
"Sydney are you still in this, including the hits?"
"I have to be."
"Ok. I will see you next Thursday then."
"Yes sir."
"Until then, I suggest that you begin to show up at the CIA. They are beginning to think that your loyalties are wavering."
"No, not that. They are getting worried about me. I've been getting the calls before I began this crusade." Sydney flatly said. She got out of the car, and walked into her apartment. She began to cry. The crying hadn't gone away since she had begun working again. Quickly, Sydney rushed to her bedroom to change out of her costume. She changed into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Her tears flowing freely now. It didn't feel worth it. There were better ways to end her pain than to try again. There were easier ways. Faster ways. But with another mission completed, she turned over another picture frame, and another reason to continue.
Before her first day, Sydney turned all of her pictures on their face. All 30 of them. With each mission, another would be turned over. But there were so many face down. So few she could see. It felt like a lost cause. Sydney laid down on the couch, before she quietly fell asleep. She awoke several hours later with a gentle hand pushing back the hair on her face. "Sydney?" The caring voice asked.
"Vaughn?" She whispered, still half asleep.
"Yes."
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