Home sweet home. That, for me, is a small garage that I found and converted. It's warm in the winter and cool in the summer, which is all I ask for. There's a bed, a desk, a computer, a closet, a television on the wall, a small pantry area, and several large shelves, which is all I need. There's also a small workbench, where I tinker with my gun quite a lot, and a few dummies and targets that I use to practise, but they're luxuries, not basics.

When I get home, I put my gun on the shelf and dive onto my bed. I need sleep.

My nap lasts all night and most of the next morning, if my clock is to be believed. But that's fine. The clock says it's eleven am when I get up and head over to the pantry.

After eating a small brunch, I flop backwards on my bed and lie there for a while. I try and occupy my thoughts by thinking about what I'm going to spend my money on, but it doesn't work. I just end up hating myself even more. It happens after every job. Someday, I'm going to explode.

Then I hear someone knock on the door. I ignore it, hoping they'll go away. But at the same time, all of my clients contact me via my watch and very few people know where I actually live. I sigh. If they knock again, I'll answer it. If not, I'll continue to lie here.

There are no more knocks, to my relief.

But instead, I hear the door open and close. Someone's come in.

I sit up sharply, but when I see the pink platypus coming towards me, I relax and lie down on my back. "Hi," I say blandly.

Naomi pauses next to the bed. "You look great," she snorts. "Job yesterday?"

I nod slowly.

"Ah. Crippling depression?"

I nod again.

There's a pause.

"Need hot chocolate?"

"Yes."

Naomi laughs. "Lucky for you, I stopped off and brought some."

I sit up slowly and accept the polystyrene cup that Naomi hands me. The hot chocolate is delicious, and it even has melted mini marshmallows in it. It warms up my entire body and makes me feel a lot better. I smile up at my friend. "Thanks."

"Gotta say: I didn't think assassins could HAVE bouts of depression," Naomi comments.

I snort. "Believe it."

Naomi sighs. "Look, Octavia…I think you should find someone."

"Someone who?" I scowl.

"A boyfriend," explains Naomi. "Or, at the very least, a very close friend. You need someone to help you."

I exhale deeply. "You know, my dad used to give me a lot of advice, but the ones I remember most were about trusting nobody and always looking out for yourself above others. So that's what I've done."

"Octavia-."

"Frankly, I don't even trust you," I say, rather harshly. "Trusting people only gets you stabbed in the back."

"So…you wouldn't consider us friends?" Naomi's face and voice are hard to read.

I shrug. "You may or may not be an exception."

Naomi smirks slightly. "So you don't want this job I have?"

I blink. "You…have a job for me?"

She nods. "I can't pay you what you normally charge—I can't pay you at all, actually—but I really need your help."

I hum in thought. On one hand, I don't like accepting jobs without proper payment. On the other hand, Naomi is the closest thing I have to a friend, and if she needs help, I do want to offer my assistance. Plus, my interest is piqued. "What kind of help?" I ask eventually.

"There's a platypus," Naomi begins. "A teal platypus. He's an agent of O.W.C.A."

I know the Organisation Without A Cool Acronym. I've killed at least two agents from there, most recently, a black and white panda.

"He's been hunting me for a while," Naomi tells me. "He thinks I killed someone close to him."

…could that be the panda? Does this platypus blame Naomi for my kill? In which case, that makes me feel really bad…

Naomi continues, "He's not going to stop until he gets me, and that scares me, Octavia. I…I need you to dispose of him so I'm not under threat."

I hesitate. "A teal platypus?"

"Named Perry," Naomi adds.

"Perry the Platypus." I think hard. "Do you know where to find him?"

"He trains at an abandoned warehouse on the corner of 5th and Main Street," Naomi informs me. "That's where he'll be today for the entire afternoon. He's been going there every day for the last few weeks; I know he'll be there."

I hesitated again. "Naomi, I need you to promise me that if I do this job for you, it's the last time you'll ask for free help. Okay?"

"Trust me, this will be the last time," Naomi promises.

I sigh. "Alright then. I'll do it."

…

I head to the warehouse that Naomi told me about. It looks abandoned, just as Naomi said. Hopping up onto the window, I see a lone platypus in the middle of it, hitting a punching bag. Unfortunately, I won't quite be able to hit him from here, so I climb through the shattered window and run along the rafters to a comfortable position. Because there are no witnesses, I won't need to worry about sneaking out.

I assemble my gun and aim. In the second it takes for me to aim, I let my guard down.

Big mistake.

Something slams into me and knocks me off the beam. My gun and I fall all the way to the ground; luckily, I don't land heavily, and my gun doesn't break. I scoop it up and swing round wildly, trying to spot the thing that hit me.

I see a brown platypus who looks almost exactly like Perry the Platypus. He's in a fighting stance opposite me, glaring at me.

"Who are you?" I demand.

"My name is Ohio," the platypus replies in a Scottish accent.

Perry the Platypus runs over to Ohio and copies his fighting stance.

"And you're about to be arrested," he growls.