"Conspiracies"

"Bull. Shit." The man shook his head along with a loud scoff, leaning back in his chair across from the other man, both dressed for a tactical operation of some sort. The light shining through the thin windows above the concrete walls revealed the dust that permeated the room. "He's lying. Nothing more to say."

"Okay, but in this business, what do you get by lying about that, huh?" The other man leaned in, arching his back forward. "Don't tell me it's for clout because the boss would've taken his tongue out a long time ago, scaring people like that." He sighed. "I believe him."

"You?" His face formed into a grimace borne of confusion and disgust. "He tells a couple confidants, including you, that he saw an urban legend. A bald killer clone, I mean, give me a fuckin' break." He laughed as the man opposite him shrugged. "I know why he told you."

"Because he knows I won't laugh in his face like you?"

"Yeah, 'cause he knows you're stupid and will believe something like that. Do you... believe in the toothfairy too?" He leaned forward slightly. "Hey, you know Santa doesn't exist-"

"Shut the fuck up, alright? You weren't there when he was talking about it!" He exclaimed, his voice rattling through the echoey concrete room. He paused to adjust his volume. "He... he seemed terrified. You don't just... get to witness an urban legend in the flesh and get away with it." He gestured with his finger. "You know why? You know why someone like him can see something like that and not get a bullet in the head? Because of people like you. Not enough people believe him."

The man blinked, his lips pursed and arms crossed. "The moon landing."

The other man furrowed his brow. "What?"

"The moon landing, it's real, just in case you, uh..."

"Christ, you're unreal." His jaw tightened. "You don't think-"

"No."

He blinked. "...you don't think there are things out there we have no idea about? Are you that naive?"

"I'm realistic, Phil!" He chuckled. "Alright? The CIA and the FBI tapping everyone's phones, mind control on behalf of the US government, that stuff I can get behind!"

"Yeah, because they proved it!"

"Keep your voice down," he replied, quickly continuing. "And no, not 'cause they proved it, but because it's realistic." He sighed. "I mean... a super-assassin? Why? There're a MILLION great killers out there, like gold in the streets. No, if that bald killer clone's a real thing, it's multiple people doing it."

"Multiple people?"

"Yeah. The bald killer clone's origins are a story to cover up the truth, that it's just a few fantastic hitmen in the world. Even if that's not the case, it's certainly more likely than the bald killer clone himself is a real thing. Eh?"

"I..." He sighed, breaking eye contact to focus on the corner of the room, deep in thought. "Huh."

"Right?"

He shrugged, nodding. He'd been arched forward with his fingers intertwined. Then, he looked down at his boots. "Yeah, maybe."

He nodded, looking to the side. He traced his eyes along one of the many cracks across the aged concrete. "What a shithole, huh?"

"Mm?" Phil looked up, then chuckled softly. "Oh. Yeah." He sighed, leaning back. "Yeah, what... what are we guarding again?"

"It's a safe, with documents. What documents, well... they'd have to kill us if we knew." He smirked. "Still. Those documents could've been in an office space."

"Office space? What?" He laughed.

"Think about it! No one would look twice at a, I don't know, a call center. Real quaint, too. Middle of the city, soulless kind of shit. They'd expect a bunker like this."

Phil cleared his throat. "Yeah, okay, I see your point, but... once someone knows the documents are in a call center, it's... I mean, it's game over."

"Look around us. If you told me you'd hidden something in this room, it'd be... found. Immediately. Christ's sake, we're in a concrete box. There isn't much room to get creative, is there?"

"...and where are the documents in the bunker?"

"Oh, down, uh," he leaned to his side, pointing at the door. "Take a left down the one hallway and then a right. Two doors, one of 'em says..." He grinned.

"You're fucking joking." Phil scoffed.

"Yeah." His grin grew wider. "The 'saferoom'. Granted, it's... designed as a saferoom for, well, you know. So, practically speaking, it's the most obvious room to put it in, but-"

"That is stupid. That's... that's fucking stupid." He crossed his arms. "You stop to think that if something does happen here, if someone does think to... we're..." He looked up at his partner.

"We'd be fucked, but it's not going to happen." He shook his head in reassurance. "We're here for one more day."

"Okay, but that's when things go wrong."

He pointed playfully at him, then chuckled, letting his hand fall back on to his lap. "Touché."

Down the hallway, the atmosphere was far less lighthearted. This concrete room was smaller, fit for a storage room, yet it had a small wooden table up against the wall with a laptop and surveillance footage wired to a few small monitors. "What the hell are they doing?" The man asked, tapping the monitor that displayed the two men clearly enjoying their conversation. "They do know we're watching...?" He looked over his shoulder.

"I don't think they do," replied the seated man, focused on his phone. "Otherwise they wouldn't even be cracking a smile. Though, I suppose that's what we get for..." He shrugged.

"For...? What? Finish your thought."

"Well, they've got no clue how sensitive those documents are." He peered up, albeit lazily. "If they knew, they'd be fucking shitting their shorts."

"Come on. This isn't a... goddamn spy novel. Huh?" He let out a weak chuckle. "It's just more governmental treachery here."

"Sure." He nodded, squinting down at his phone. "Won't matter if we fuck up, though. They won't just take what's in the safe and pay us off. We're beyond that. We're fucking dead if we mess this up."

"First of all, you can say all that like that while you play... what is it, Candy Crush or some bullshit?"

He sighed softly. "I've been doing a lot of meditation, thank you." He peered up once more. "Also, we won't fuck up, so..."

"Oh, okay," he rolled his eyes, looking back at the monitors. "One minute you're cheerily embracing certain doom and now you're certain doom's not coming, huh?"

"Hey, I didn't say it is coming, I sai..." His voice trailed off as he pulled himself forward in his chair. "What the fuck happened to the camera? Bottom left, why's it out?"

"I... don't know how that could be." He arched his brow. "I'll check it out." He looked back at the man seated, having immediately returned complete focus on his phone.

"Yeah." He replied lazily.

He stared him down. "No. You go."

His eyes darted up. "Huh? But I thought...?"

"No. I'm pulling rank. Get off your phone and go see what the problem is."

He stuck his phone deep inside his pocket as he gave his superior a deadpan stare. Pulling himself up, he grabbed the P90 that had been resting on the table adjacent to him. He pushed the door open and closed it shut as he glanced back at the surveillance feed.

The hallway's ceiling, which wasn't much higher than the height of most the guards, was dotted with caged construction lights, all connected together by wiring. Something in the room to his left caught his eye, backing up. He cocked his head slightly sideways, focusing on the two men who seemed to be talking quietly to one another. He approached the doorway, resting his hand on the wall as he leaned in. "Hey," he nodded at them. "You guys good?"

"Not really." The man on the right replied, arms folded. "Just got done listening to one of Phil's crazy conspiracy theories." Phil's eyes visibly darted to focus on his partner.

The guard in the doorway blinked. "Phil's a conspiracy theorist?"

"Can Phil not defend himself?" Phil spoke up. "It's not my theory. It's Anatoly's. He saw an urban legend, and I believe him." He nodded confidently. "Er, kind of, anyway."

"...okay. You guys good otherwise?"

Phil shrugged, looking at his partner before leaning back into his chair. "Nothing to report. You?"

"Gotta go check the camera in the storage room." He cleared his throat. "I don't want to take any risks so I'd actually appreciate it if one of you came with."

Phil shrugged, smacking his palms on his knees as he rose dramatically. "I'm not being appreciated in here anyway." He looked down at his partner with a smirk.

Back at the surveillance room, which was about as large as a storage closet, the guard focused intently on the maps on the table that clearly detailed the area around the bunker. He'd look back at the cameras now and then. The brief processing of a shoe scraping behind the man's position caused his head to dart up in surprise, but his reaction came too late as the blunt edge of a pipe struck his head, causing him to collapse and slide down the concrete wall next to him. 47 stepped over the man's leg, shuffling it out of the way as he set the slightly bloodied pipe down on the table by the desktop computer.

Reaching around to unplug the desktop, he used a small screwdriver to remove the side panel and yanked the hard drive from within, pulling out the cables it'd been attached to. He slipped it into his woollen overcoat.

A few minutes later, the guard returned with Phil to the surveillance room to discover it absent of the officer.