Note: I realised I've never seen anyone use a surname for Brianna, so I used her Japanese name, Wakana. I hope it's not jarring.

Enjoy.

Chapter Four

Sweet as Strawberry Sugar

"Tell me again," Harley purred in May's ear, "what was going through your mind when, not only did you discover your target was still alive and you chose not to immediately assassinate him, but then when it became clear another assassin was trying to complete the job you could not, you did not let them finish but instead you. Killed. THEM." Harley's voice rose with each word, until he finished on a shout that could almost have burst May's eardrums.

May swallowed and fought to keep her spine straight. She could not bend in front of Harley; she would not show weakness.

"I need the reward," she said with a throat as dry as Sandile skin. "I need to kill Hayden myself."

"Lest you forget," Harley growled, and slapped his hands on the metal table between them, resulting in a clang that echoed painfully around the otherwise empty interrogation room. "The assignment is to assassinate Drew Hayden. It does not matter which assassin completes it, as long as it is completed. Do you understand, Miss Tent?"

May flinched. The reminder of her childhood terror—he was using it to undermine her, to remind her that she was small and weak and he was powerful and strong.

"Were they a Cacturn Press assassin?" she asked. As she'd made her way back Cacturn Press from Hayden's mansion, she'd tried not to think about the assassin she had murdered, at all. But now she realised she needed to know. It was her guilt and sorrow that kept her human, that preserved whatever shred of her soul still existed.

Harley's dark blue eyes slid to the side before returning to her. "The assignment needed—"

A shout wrenched from May's lips before she could think it through. "You didn't believe I could do it!" She jumped to her feet, banging her own fist on the metal table as her temper took over. "You didn't think I assassinated him the first time and you thought I wouldn't have the guts to finish the job, so you sent another assassin in. Wow, Harley. And to think I thought you hired me for this job because you thought I was ready. Is this all just a game to you?" Her ice blue eyes met his dark, impenetrable ones. "Well, it isn't a game to me! I need to be the one to kill Hayden—for more reasons than one, which you know!" She took a calming breath, and her voice became cool like the snow cresting a volcano concealing lava within. "Don't doubt me again. I killed that other assassin, and I will kill Hayden. You can mark my words, it will be done—if it is not, then you can kill me instead."

She kept her gaze steely, but doubt crept through her veins. She hadn't thought through any of the speech she'd just uttered—too many emotions coursed through her to be able to think clearly. Harley had that effect on her—he made her furious, and then she ended up overcompensating.

A sly grin twisted his thin lips. "Is that so, cherry pie?"

She didn't flinch, but she felt his judgement ooze over her like fiery sludge.

He raised his hand and turned it over, examining his nails with disinterest. "I wish I could take you at your word, but you have now failed to assassinate Hayden twice…"

Her cheeks burned red with anger. After everything she'd done—he couldn't take the assignment away from her; she couldn't let him.

"Not twice," she corrected, feeling every sharp breath causing her chest to heave. "I chose not to assassinate him in his home, because I realised it would be too conspicuous."

Harley raised a pencil-thin purple eyebrow, but his eyes remained on his perfectly clean nails.

She took it as an invitation to continue. "If he's killed in his home, then the media will snatch up the story and there will be a manhunt for the assassin. He's the most popular man in the whole of Hoenn, half the region will be looking for his killer. It'd endanger all of us, the whole Cacturn Press operation. Is one hit really worth the end of your business?"

Harley's eyes narrowed slightly and he looked at her from under his lashes.

"And how, exactly, do you think you're going to get close to him now? A would-be assassin was killed in his home, sugar cookie. He won't go anywhere without full armed guard for at least a year. Our client can't afford to wait that long for his death."

May nodded. She kept her face calm, but a smile twitched at her lips. "Then it's a good thing he offered me an exclusive interview for saving his life."

Harley's eyes widened with genuine surprise—a rare emotion on his face. "Why, blueberry pie, you do have some spirit after all… but are you sure you'll be able to go through with it? I do wonder, knowing your history…"

May gritted her teeth. "I can do it."

She said those four words with such iron-clad determination that Harley did not pursue further argument. He simple nodded and walked over to the door, but he paused before leaving.

"Be careful, sugar cookie… better assassins than you have played with smaller fires, and lost."

And then he was gone, leaving May alone in the small, metal-walled interrogation room.

She heaved a deep sigh and slumped back into her chair.

She'd rather assassinate Hayden ten times over than face Harley once more in this horrible room. Now that she knew it existed, she was glad for the times he scheduled their rendezvous in coffee shops. If this was one of the Cacturn Press 'offices', she didn't want to see the others.

It took a while to find the phone number of Hayden's media manager on the internet. When May finally succeeded, she started to write it down—she'd make the call from a payphone, to avoid a number being traceable to her—when she realised she recognised the name.

Brianna Wakana.

The name called to mind the image of a teenaged girl with a short auburn bob and dark green eyes, who followed Hayden from contest to contest, his constant fan and admirer.

Is it really Brianna?

May chewed the end of her pen, a dilemma presenting itself. Brianna knew her—Brianna had fought her many times for Hayden's affection, and had treated her like a rival she would not soon—or ever—forget.

It had been years, though. Maybe enough time had passed…

No, enough time would never pass. Brianna would know her instantly, whether by her face or even just her name.

May groaned. When Hayden told her to call his media manager, it had seemed to easy. She could call, set up the interview, bring poisoned candy which Hayden would obliviously consume, and the job would be done. The world would think he had had an allergic reaction, and there would be no manhunt for any assassin. Cacturn Press would be safe and May would be gone, she and her family finally free.

But now it seemed she was falling at the first hurdle.

She couldn't call Brianna.

Could she?

This whole operation relied on her anonymity. It was only possible to get close to Hayden now because he didn't know her. But Brianna would tell him instantly who she was, and those long-buried memories would resurface in his mind.

She couldn't allow that.

But she had to try.

So May left the library where she had been using a computer, and walked until she found a payphone on the street. She slotted in some coins and tapped in the number she'd scribbled down.

The phone rang twice before a woman's voice picked up.

"Hello, you're reached Brianna Wakana, media manager to Drew Hayden. If you wish to request an interview, I have a form online—"

May tuned out as Brianna went through her whole spiel. Instead of listening to the words, she focused on the voice—more mature, slightly higher in pitch than she remembered of Brianna as a teenager, but with the same wonder in her tone when she spoke Hayden's name.

It was really her.

May swallowed and grasped for an accent when it was her turn to talk. Anything to prevent Brianna from recognising her.

"Miss Wakana, I am the… reporter… who helped Mister Hayden at his residence yesterday. He said in return for my aid, he would grant me an exclusive interview, which you would set up?"

A horrible thought occurred to May as she uttered her pre-prepared script. What if Hayden had told Brianna her name, and Brianna had recognised her from that and reminded him who she was? What if all of this was pointless because Hayden would never let her enter the same building as him again, let alone get close enough to assassinate him, and then she was enslaved to Harley for the rest of her life?

She started sweating, while her fingers clutching onto the phone became numb.

She almost missed Brianna's response.

"Oh yes, of course! He told me to expect your call! Though I didn't expect you to be from Sinnoh, you sure travelled far to help Drew out! How does… hmm, tomorrow at noon sound? Hello? Are you still there?"

May jolted back to life with a gasp. "Yes! Yes, still here. That sounds fine. Erm, he said it would be an exclusive interview so I can't have any other reporters hearing about it and following us… we need to meet somewhere no-one will find us."

Briana was quiet for a moment, and May wondered if she'd pushed too far. If Brianna decided it was too suspicious and decided to call it off—she could lie to Hayden and say she never called—there was nothing May would be able to do about it.

"Of course, not a problem," Brianna chirped suddenly. "I'll arrange everything. Do you have a number I can text with the address?"

May froze. What to say now? She couldn't give out a personal number, but saying so would sound too suspicious… "I'll call you tomorrow morning to confirm everything," May said in a rush, her tongue racing before her brain.

"Oh," said Brianna, sounding surprised, "Well, okay then. Have a wonderful afternoon, Miss…?"

May clicked the payphone down and released a huge breath.

Everything was falling into place. All she had to do now was make the poisoned sweets, and by tomorrow evening, Hayden would dead.

Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

May called Brianna the next morning, just as she'd said she would, and Brianna gave May directions to a secluded spot in the forest outside LaRousse City. When May was surprised it was so far away, Brianna pointed out that if they went anywhere inside the city, Hayden would be recognised—and he refused to invite anyone outside his employees into his own mansion. That last statement made May wonder what he had told Brianna about May's help, but she couldn't exactly ask Brianna that.

So May set off for the forest, her poisonous sweets tucked safely into her satchel, her Pokémon inside their balls on her belt, and two daggers concealed under her clothes.

She was not taking any chances this time.

She arrived early, having worked up quite a sweat from the trek through the city and then into the forest. Brianna had described a glade where the forest opened about a mile in, where a river rushed under an open sky. It was secluded, although not completely concealed. It would be impossible to find somewhere there was zero risk of being interrupted, but apparently Hayden would be wearing a disguise, so if they were interrupted he shouldn't be recognised.

May didn't bother with a disguise, as she wasn't the famous one, but as she walked under the dappled sunlight weaving through the trees, she remembered that her face had been in the papers only a few days ago… and she hoped she hadn't already made a mistake.

Once she was certain she found the right glade, she settled on the river bank. It was about ten minutes before noon, and she was glad of the chance to catch her breath and let the yellow sun warm her skin. She dangled her legs towards the water, letting her shoes skim the rushing current, and threw her head back to soak in the peace.

But even as she relaxed, dark thoughts crept in. She'd barely slept last night; when she had, nightmares of the assassin she'd killed plagued her mind. Different scenarios, sometimes where she stabbed the dagger into his heart and then he got up and staggered towards her like a zombie, at which point she woke up screaming, or where she slit his throat but no blood came out and she had to keep cutting deeper and deeper into his neck until his head was completely severed, but still he did not bleed, and she knew that she was not an assassin, she never would be, and she was trapped trying to kill him fruitlessly over and over for the rest of her life.

She shuddered, and the sweat dried to her skin from the trek to the river made her cold.

Suddenly she was too cold, and she drew her knees up to the chin and hugged herself, shivering and squeezing her eyes closed, trying to get the images of her nightmares out of her head.

A voice from behind broke through the cocoon of darkness entrapping her.

"I see you found the meeting spot without trouble. Brianna was concerned you wouldn't, but I told her not to make the mistake of underestimating the abilities of the person I would not be alive without."

May let his words wash away the remnant of her nightmares, and slowly she uncurled her body. She stood to face him, not sure what she expected to find. After all, an attempt had been made to take his life, and it had ended traumatically for them both.

Would he see the haunted look in her own eyes, the shadows from her sleepless night? Would he look the same, traumatised by her act of murdering a person in front of him, from the losses of Miss Franklin and one of his security guards?

Hayden stood at the edge of the trees, and he looked disconcertingly normal apart from one particular feature. His hands were loosely stuffed in the pockets of his lime green trousers, his face carefully neutral.

But his hair—his hair was red. Bright red, and long, reaching all he way down his back.

Brianna said he'd be wearing a disguise—she hadn't said it would look so ridiculous. May had to stifle a snort of laughter.

Behind him stood a team of six security guards—five she recognised, one was new. The guard who had died that night had already been replaced.

"What did you tell your media manager about what happened?" she asked, her eyes returning to him, mirth lingering in her expression while she tried to get over his unusual appearance.

He shrugged and walked forwards. "Everything. She's been with me a long time, there's nothing I don't trust her with."

"Including your life?" May asked before she could pull the words back.

Hayden stopped walking. The question startled him. Then a smirk pulled at his lips. "I don't trust anyone with that."

May frowned. "Not even…" she hesitated as her brain finally caught up to her tongue. She needed to be smart; she couldn't afford to get personal. "Your security team?"

He raised a hand and beckoned forward one of his guards. They carried a large basket. "No-one is infallible," was his infuriating answer.

The guard set the basket down by the river and withdrew a blanket. May watched, flabbergasted, as he continued to set out a whole picnic—all kinds of foods; triangle sandwiches, strawberries and apple slices, cheeses and cured meats on a charcuterie board, and even a delicious selection of cakes.

"Is this an interview or a date?" she questioned, unable to process the sight before her.

Hayden chuckled. "An interview, but in case anyone does stumble upon us, then it will look like a date between two random people and they'll move on quickly without interrupting us. You can go."

The last part was directed towards his security guards.

"But, Sir—" the one in charge began to protest, but Hayden sent him a firm look and he led their retreat without further hesitation.

"If they stand too close, it'll give the game away," Hayden said by way of explanation when May's eyes remained wide.

"You've thought of everything," she said in wonder, and her eyes returned to his ridiculous wig. "Down to your obnoxiously red hair."

Hayden's eyes narrowed. "The best disguise is one no-one on this planet would expect me to wear." He said it so haughtily that May didn't hold back her laughter this time.

He glared at her for a moment and then sighed. "The sooner you ask your questions, the sooner I can be free of this outrageous wig. Get it over with, please."

Please.

Now May was really shocked.

Who are you and what have you done with the Hayden I used to know?

But she hurriedly shoved that thought far, far away. After this picnic—interview—was over, Hayden would be dead, and she would never have to wonder about him again.

Right—she needed to get him to eat her poisoned sweets. Now that she eyed the feast before them, she realised it might be trickier than she'd imagined.

"Okay, let's start." She sat down on the edge of the blanket, and he followed suit, sitting on the other edge, about a meter of space between them. "But first, I wanted to offer you a little something I made…" she pulled the small Tupperware containing twelve sweets—it would have been strange to only make one—out of her satchel. They were small, about half the size of her thumb, and shaped like strawberries—Hayden's favourite fruit. The outsides were chocolate, the insides containing what Hayden would think was red strawberry filling, but May had mixed it with a slow-acting poison that would present symptoms like a severe allergy that he would not recover from.

Hayden looked at the sweets with a small frown. "What are they?" he asked tentatively.

"Strawberry Sugar Chocolates. I made them just for you. I read on some gossip site that you like strawberry."

His nose wrinkled and he looked for all the world like strawberry was the worst taste in the world.

Her stomach dropped—if he refused the sweets, she would have to resort to something else—a much bloodier way of killing him which would attract much too much attention and probably result in her own death, since his security guards were so close, but at least her family would be free of her debt.

Stop thinking like that, she scolded herself. It hasn't come to anything like that yet! Focus, May!

"No, thank you."

Horror slashed through May.

He said no.

Well, he said "no, thank you," which made her wonder if this wasn't Hayden at all, but someone he had dressed up to look like him and do the interview in his place—

Wait. Was that really possible?

She peered deep into his eyes from across the picnic spread.

Nope, those were definitely his emerald eyes looking back at her, and they seemed amused.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

She scrabbled for an excuse. "I… didn't expect you to be so polite. You weren't upon our first meeting."

"I'm not the cold-hearted businessman many of those gossip sites you read make me out to be," he responded lightly, not seeming offended. "But I don't like chocolate, so wherever you got your information, it was wrong."

Right… he doesn't like chocolate…

But that couldn't be right. She had seen him consume chocolate before. Chocolates she had made, when they used to know each other. Not the same ones as these; she couldn't have the poison sweets arising any memories in his brain, but not too dissimilar.

She had no choice; she had to make him eat one, one way or another.

"Please, Mister Hayden, I made them especially for you," she wheedled, making her eyes large and innocent and difficult for anyone to say no to. Then she swallowed the disgust at what she needed to add. "It took me so long to get the recipe right, I was sure you'd love them… I stayed up all night working."

"I can tell," he said with an edge to his voice. "The shadows under your eyes are so dark I almost thought you drew them on with make-up in a misguided attempt to be fashionable."

May reeled back, his biting criticism cutting deeper than she could have prepared for. Did he not know she looked so tired because nightmares had kept her awake after what she had done? Did he think she killed people every day, that it was nothing to her? Was it nothing to him? He had experienced the same trauma as her, had he not?

Up until now, he'd been so… nice. Now, his true colours were showing.

The Hayden she knew hadn't changed, not really. He pretended for the cameras, the reporters and the fans—even if he said he didn't care for his supporters, he knew he needed them; needed to remain favoured by them for his business to stand any chance of succeeding in a world already dominated by so many cutting-edge technology companies. But deep down he was the same boy she had known as a teenager: selfish and snobbish and rude.

Any remorse she had begun to feel for the act she was about to commit vanished.

She needed to reign in her temper—being smart was the only way to foil Hayden, as much as she wished she could yell at him instead.

"I see," she said quietly, lowering her gaze and making herself appear hurt by his biting words. "You truly are not the man the gossip blogs make you out to be. I won't make that mistake again. Shall we proceed with the interview?"

Hayden regarded her with shrewd eyes—she was sure she could feel him peeling away her layers, examining the lie beneath her words…

But then he cleared his throat and said formally: "My apologies. I would be honoured to accept a gift you worked so hard on."

His tone was tight and there was no kindness in his eyes as he reached for a poisoned sweet.

May held the container steady, her eyes not leaving his. She wasn't going to make the mistake she made in Basculin Bar. She would watch him eat, chew, and swallow the whole chocolate.

Before his hand closed on a candy, a shout from the other side of the river made them both freeze.

"May? May!"

Together they turned their heads, and behind them Hayden's security team burst through the trees, withdrawing their guns.

May's jaw fell open as she realised who was calling her name.

"Dawn?" she gasped, jumping to her feet.

Indeed, the navy-haired coordinator from Sinnoh stood on the other side of the river, just a couple of meters away from their picnic, a look of shock taking over her face as she realised how many guns were pointing at her.

May groaned inwardly.

How the hell was she supposed to explain this?

Author's Note: I couldn't resist bringing Dawn into this story, I love her too much. Should I also add Paul and have a side romance for them?

Please leave a review and let me know if you're enjoying this story!

Thank you for reading!

~Jay