Five.
The metal barrel unsurprisingly tastes like metal. Maybe she should have wrapped a Fruit Roll-Up around it. She always liked the wildberry ones. Too late now.
Bang.
Annie illegally buys a gun from a skinny Hispanic teenager in a back alley in the worst part of D.C. imaginable. The kid couldn't have been more than 15 years old; professional, courteous, solemn, probably has seen more than his fair share of gang violence, judging by the tattoos. He politely offers to throw in an extra Glock 19 clip, full of bullets, for $20, hardly worth even the price of the bullets included. Annie briefly wonders why he is being so nice.
"Thanks, but I only need one. Actually," Annie trails off as she unloads all but one bullet from the original Glock magazine, "I only need one. Brass don't come cheap." Quite brazen of her, except she has no emotion in her voice.
The kid visible startles as Annie pushes the extra 9mm bullets into his jacket pocket. His eyes widen in a perceptive stare at Annie's dark expression. "Ma'am, I ain't one to question–"
"Then don't." Annie thrusts the wad of cash into his hands. She notices that he doesn't bother to check how much she gives him, whether that is out of trust or shock at the stark implications of only needing one bullet. There are really only two scenarios in which one would only need one bullet. Neither seem too pleasant.
"'M sorry," the kid mumbles as Annie turned to walk away, tucking the gun into her jeans as she goes, "For whatever happened."
"Me too," Annie agreed with a single nod and swung her leg over the sleek motorcycle she stole from a parking garage in the city center.
"Calder? It's Annie," she says calmly.
"Walker, where are you?" Calder would deny it, but a pang of worry flashes through his mind. Annie went completely off the grid less than a day after she landed in D.C. and was set up in her safe house.
"If you don't want the FBI on this, you should send a clean up crew to Rock Creek Park. Trace the phone; I don't really know where I am." Annie promptly hangs up, turns the phone on silent, and tosses it carelessly to the ground before Calder's mind could follow her words, let alone voice his protest. She was selfish, yes. But you could never say she was stupid.
Annie looks out over the Potomac and steels her mind. She is so, so tired. There is no way that she would be able to continue living this life. She can't remember what it was like to not live like this. She just knows that it has to stop. All of it.
That's why she's perched in a tree now, legs swinging below the branches, metal gun pressing into her lower back. She never gave much thought to how she would do it, but she figured the fastest, most guaranteed way would be with a gun. Her mind flashes something about justice. She killed people with a gun. A lot of people. Maybe not as many as some other operatives, but enough. She goes out with a gun the same way. Poetic justice at its finest.
Annie takes one last deep breath, smiling at the fresh scent of pines and the bite of the beginnings of the winter cold. The weight on her shoulders was gone, and all she had left was herself. It was freeing. She can't remember the last time she felt this free.
She closes her eyes and briefly flashes through the faces of those she loved, still loves.
Danielle. Katia. Chloe. Mom. Dad. Ben. Eyal. Simon.
Auggie.
I'm so sorry.
Annie puts the barrel of the gun in her mouth, teeth clamping down around the black cylinder, finger hard on the trigger. The metal barrel unsurprisingly tastes like metal. Maybe she should have wrapped a Fruit Roll-Up around it. She always liked the wildberry ones. Too late now.
Bang.
Author's Note: Thank you for reading and reviewing. Only one chapter left. Any thoughts on what you'd like to see in the way I bring Annie back in the next chapter? I love to hear from you!