HITMAN: The Anthology

by MrRieper

Agent 47 takes on a multitude of contracts around the world that will bring about his status as an urban legend. From a coal mine in China to the hunting grounds of a red room livestream; from the top 1% to human sex traffickers, each chapter focuses on a singular contract and different targets.

15. Contract 15: Lambros

1989. The Berlin Wall fell, Emperor Hirohito passed away, and the rallies in Tiananmen Square were quashed. And a young Diana Burnwood had found her place as the pupil to Savi, a voracious gang boss in London. If she wanted to take on Blue Seed and destroy lives, a part of who she was had to be destroyed first. Such was the basis of her training regiment.

But Diana wondered if Savi's literal, and physical approach worked. If the end result was meant to leave Diana bitter and hissing every time her sleeves nipped at her scabs, then she succeeded.

She resigned to her bedroom that noon after a bath, which she kept tidy even though she still lived with her aunt and uncle. Diana was replacing her bandages when someone knocked on the door. The knocking was too soft for it to be any of the thugs, and Savi wouldn't even have bothered. That left only one person.

"Madelyn? You can come in."

Twisting open the door, a short and baby-faced girl revealed herself. Where Savi was the domineering arms dealer, her little sister, Madelyn, was meek and submissive. The former never seemed to acknowledge the existence of her, so Madelyn naturally gravitated towards Diana. They were close in age, and if she had to be honest, it was pleasant to be in the company of at least one person who liked her.

Madelyn blatantly stared at her wet, red hair in admiration. She had opened her mouth, but forgot what to say. But Diana knew what she would have said, anyway: some question about her school life and society. She was so easily fascinated by the things Diana considered mundane and a waste of time.

This time, Diana would start their conversation. "Have you ever explored this mansion? I found something that not even Savi knows about." Madelyn didn't respond, but her eyes were full of intrigue. "A path between the walls. It leads outside to the rooftop. I've been using it every night to look at the stars. "

"At night?" Madelyn frowned. "While I'm working?"

It was Diana's turn to frown. She had tried to mentally blot out how the red-light district favored the young girl. And with how nonchalant she acted about 'work', Madelyn's enthusiasm for the normal life made sense. "Do you want to know where it is?"

She lit up with excitement. "Tell me! Please?"

Then Diana remembered one of Savi's first lessons, and an irreversible idea popped up. "I'll tell you if you tell me something new. Something I don't know."

Madelyn tilted her head. "Like what?"

"I don't know... maybe something about your sister?"

"But there are lots of things! That's way too vague."

"Then what about anything that her 'workers' are upset about, regarding her? Gossip, maybe?"

"Well, there are some things I hear while performing for them..."

Diana wasn't proud of staking Madelyn's life as her backup plan. But as Savi so kindly taught her, manipulation was the key to living in their world. If they didn't seize what was available, someone else would. At the time, It only felt natural to do.

But 20 years in the future, Diana occasionally thought about the girl. She was the only innocent person in that entire mansion; there were so many things she could have done differently to help her and keep on the same path. But nothing can change the past.

And as Erich Soders shook Diana awake, the guilt from her dream left a bitter taste in her lips. Sighing, she lifted her head off the desk, checking the time. Annoyance replaced regret at seeing how many hours passed.

"Good afternoon." Erich opened the window blinds, and what little sunlight left in the day seeped in. "You've spent night and day going at this. Guess you don't need my help after all."

Diana managed a smile. "It's at times like this that you'll pick up the slack for me. Was there something you needed to say?"

"I looked into the names you provided. I got nothing on 'Grandfather', but Madelyn Chase yielded some results. Do you know about the Robinson Brothers?"

"I read their case. They fell off the grid, after Patrick Robinson's assassination, but have since risen in force and numbers. They've become more discrete as of late, making MI5 believe the gang has dissolved."

"I asked some of our informants in London. There's a rumor floating around that one of Patrick's favorite prostitutes was the killer—and subsequent usurper." He took her anticipating gaze as a cue to continue. "Her name was indeed Madelyn. But if it's the same one you know? We're not sure. We could try to find out more—find out an exact location to search—but that would involve a bigger circle, and you don't want that."

"No, I don't," Diana affirmed. Normally the roadblock would have frustrated her, but… she had an idea of where to look. A thought that she decided against telling Erich. "And what about the Russians?"

"My people say they're in Africa. Senegal, specifically."

"Africa?" Diana couldn't hide the doubt on her face. "Are your analysts sure?"

Soders shrugged. "They reported from Senegal less than two hours ago. Sent pictures, too." He took Diana's mouse, navigating through the UI to open his messages. Indeed, the reports pictured the Russian agents deep in the southern forests.

"What about the satellites?"

"Also confirm it."

Huh. Diana pondered on this. "What could they want in Africa?" A question for later, she decided. There was another name she gave him. "Anything on Silas Lambros?"

He nodded. "Diana, did you know Lambros Tobacco was a former benefactor to the Agency?" She shook her head. "I don't blame you. They were only a minor sponsor; weren't too involved in our affairs, but they know about us. Contact was lost after Thorakis' death. Silas definitely attended the meeting in Raul's mansion. The company records show funds allocated to several causes and donations, but following up on each of them, they end with the money simply disappearing. Likely a cover-up for the transaction."

"Then this means... The controller you sacked was not our mole."

"Don't get ahead of yourself. We still have no solid evidence that Clera attended, or anything about this 'Grandfather' figure."

"But she was there. And she purchased people from Grandfather, citing a new initiative with Benjamin Travis."

Soders furrowed his brows. "I assume you have proof? Because none of my usual sources heard anything."

"Because I didn't check our informants. I looked into Agency records."

"And who gave you authorization?"

"She's trying to create a new strike force under her supervision. She could've created one using ICA assets; not unless she wants them loyal to herself." Diana reclined in her seat. She knew Erich was getting uncomfortable, and that those last statements were merely speculation. Any more, and she feared he'd pull out of her little campaign.

Eventually, he sighed. "Say your lead turns out to be true... What does this have to do with Surtr, your original end goal?"

Diana turned to the monitor, showing her agent's location in Athens. "That's for Agent 47 to find out..."

---

"The 25th anniversary of Lambros Tobacco..." Jonas Lambros always felt carsick at this time of year, despite how smoothly his limousine turned the streets while sandwiched in its convoy. He leaned on the side of his seat, staring out the window like he did as a forlorn child. "I hear it celebrated every year from every mouth."

Adjacent to him, his wife, Eleni, rested her hand on his. Even after years of creating an image of an untouchable youthful energy for the press, the mask crumbled like sand in front of her. It took some years of light prodding and nudging for him to open up to her, but it all worked out. They were closer than ever.

And Eleni already knew what troubled him. To Jonas, today marked the 25th anniversary of his family's death. "I'm sorry." She knew the apology didn't mean anything, but it felt like it helped. "Your parents and Ajax would be proud of how far you've come. You're strong and handsome; I've seen you dominate those self-defense courses. And you own a billion-dollar company that expands overseas."

Jonas turned away from the window, smiling at her solemnly. "You're wrong about that last part. We both know my uncle is the real man running the show, and if anything, my brother would probably hate my guts for letting this happen."

She let out a mental sigh. They both knew where the conversation was going now. "That would change if only you stood up to him."

"And change what? You know more than anyone how much I wish I could. But it all belongs to him, I'm afraid."

"But he's not the son of the founder. He's a leech. And I know you can assert yourself and turn things around."

Jonas met her eyes. Such thoughts crossed his minds on many occasions. His Phalanx team would certainly be willing. But the wave of change that would come with terrified him. So, almost mumbling, he replied, "Maybe one day. But not today."

"You keep saying that..."

"Save it for later." The limousine slowed to a stop. An uproar of voices rose like a wave as paparazzi clambered as close to the walkway as they could, only impeded by the steadfast security. "We're here."

Eleni took that as a sign to let it rest; let fate play its hand.

When Jonas pushed open the door, what the blinding flashes caught were wide smiles and a loving couple holding each other close. He wore a shining, tailored suit of midnight blue. The lapels of his jacket were adorned with discrete metallic Grecian motifs.

His young and handsome face paired well with the beautifully blonde Eleni, who wore an ivory-white floor-length toga. Coupled with a plunging neckline and a low back—and edges embellished with gold leaf patterns—many photographers already knew that the magazines would liken her to a goddess. Others guessed how much it costed; likely more than the average white-collar could afford.

They strode the red carpet, waving to the crowd and their ceaseless questions, which fought and created an incomprehensible language. Blinding flashes from all sides made the two hurry their steps, even if they didn't intend to. The couple passed the gated entrance, where they knew nobody could penetrate the three-meter-tall, 20-centimeter-thick concrete walls surrounding the estate.

And beyond the reach of the middle-class, the sprawling hillside gardens greeted them. Olive trees lined the staircase to the mansion, while bushes of bougainvillea and rosemary filled the rest. For Jonas, the walk was the best part to each of these galas.

Unfortunately, this year's walk wouldn't be among them, as a grey-bearded man and his bodyguards emerged from the underground parking lot, treading the path covered by foliage to link up with the staircase. In contrast to the couple's opulent attire, he bore a muted seafoam green polo shirt and tan trousers.

"Uncle," Jonas greeted. "I thought you'd be arriving later, and properly dressed, no less?"

Silas shook his head. "I'll retire upstairs early. There's business to handle."

"Even though the gala was your idea?" Eleni remarked, glaring at him with faux friendliness.

An attitude that he mirrored with a grin. "It's urgent business. One of our... sponsors has gone quiet."

"Which sponsor?" Jonas asked.

Silas bit his lip, considering his words. Eventually, he wrapped an arm around him, patting his back. "You should enjoy the gala. Let me deal with the ugly stuff."

They all knew he was dodging the question. But they knew there was no use in pushing it; he'd have brought up a totally different issue to debate about, like all the other times.

Approaching the grand double doors to the gala, which flaunted violet banners with gold trim along the walls, chatter from inside spilled out. The mansion, a mix of modern luxury and classical Greek architecture, provided a beautiful look across Athens from atop the hill, surrounded by its lush gardens and the backdrop of the Acropolis.

Greeting them at the extra high front doors were 10-meter-tall statues of various gods, serving as pillars for the pediment, carved from flawless marble. Closest to the double doors was Nemesis. She held a balanced scale in one hand and brandished a sword in the other.

"I wished you talked to me before spending on these," Jonas said. "The press wasn't merciful—"

"The press can go to hell. Are you really whining about having the gods at your front door?"

"No, of course not. I was just saying..."

Silas harrumphed, entering first. He and his entourage passed by a black and blue uniformed guard against the doorway, disappearing into the grand foyer. Asterios, captain of Jonas' personal security team known as the Phalanx, was waiting for him.

Eleni stayed behind as her husband went to talk alone. Such was the routine nowadays.

"Any word from Charis?" Jonas asked.

"Still quiet. Normally I'd brush this off as him being deep in cover, but something's acting up in my gut, and I don't think it's the souvlaki I had earlier."

"You're not alone in that... Something's keeping my uncle on edge, too, and perhaps it's rubbed off on me, but human instinct is a powerful thing. But I know I can count on you."

Asterios straightened himself, as though he couldn't look any more proper. "My team and I have your backs. Please enjoy yourself, sir."

Jonas extended his arm to Eleni, and they linked up as one. Tonight, they could forget about their worries...

But behind the statues, the gardens, the gate and concrete walls, hidden in the paparazzi, Agent 47 stood. His earpiece buzzed. "Hello, 47. Welcome to Athens, Greece. Your targets are Silas and Jonas Lambros of Lambros Tobacco—a former benefactor of the Agency, having cut off contact after Aristotle Thorakis' death. Lambros Tobacco is a billion-dollar corporation based in Athens, which is also the home of the family and current location of your targets. Today is the 25th anniversary of the company's founding, and they are celebrating via an exclusive gala reserved for friends and others in the upper echelon of society.

"After a fire killed his parents and older brother 15 years ago, Jonas found himself in custody of his uncle, Silas. Citing his nephew's young age, he took reigns of the company and its money for when Jonas became of age. And to the public, Jonas has indeed taken over. In reality, Silas is responsible for the majority of company transactions and decisions, and hides behind the curtain that is his nephew. This includes Lambros Tobacco's clandestine dealings, which we are here to uncover.

"Since finding his name in Raul's guest book alongside Clera and 'Grandfather', I did some digging. Grandfather is the moniker of someone attempting to create a group of highly trained for-sale assassins in a location known as the Shelter. You may remember the Brazil contract, in which the anonymous client asked us to dispose of Coisa Um and Coisa Dois. Based on what you heard there, it's safe to assume that said client was Grandfather."

"Based on ICA records and receipts dug up from Lambros Tobacco during that date, we believe Clera is organizing a strike team with help from the Shelter, and Lambros Tobacco paid for the transaction. Soders' analysts indicate that only Silas and Jonas are aware of the company's role, making complicit in a conspiracy against the Agency, thus making them targets.

"Security is tight as you'd expect. Alongside the regular mansion security, Jonas is protected by his personal squad of six elite guards called the Phalanx. They range from ex-military and mercenaries. In order to keep a low profile, we couldn't acquire an invitation. You will need to find your way in through other means, and I believe I can help with that. Good luck, 47."

Location: Athens, Greece
Targets: The Strawman, The Puppeteer

Agent 47 knew from the days leading up to the gala that standing out here wouldn't get him anywhere. The perimeter walls and truckloads of security made for a solid defense. There were only two gates, a front and back one, and the back gate was guarded and locked shut—not that it kept more paranoid paparazzo from stalking it 24/7. If the gossip rags were to be believed, Silas Lambros was becoming increasingly camera shy. So the reason for 47's presence was to watch the guests filter in, basking in attention and all.

But few of the photographers kept a keen eye on the staircase up to the mansion, which eclipsed over the walls only when the guests became distant stick figures. And after Jonas and his wife made themselves comfortable to the camera flashes, 47 watched the stairs. He saw Silas and his polo shirt appear with them.

Now confident about the hidden entrance's existence, the hitman left.

"Diana?"

"Already on it." She flipped through the tabs of schematics and floor plans of nearby buildings, landing on one. "Head to the Olympos Oasis Mall. There's an underground parking garage near it, and its proximity to the mansion makes it a likely candidate for the entrance."

The trek was uneventful. A lack of patrons tonight meant the security was bored. As for the underground parking lot, the only thing they had to deal with was a few delivery trucks. They drove in at different times, with their destination being the gateway in the corner of the lot. It led into a vast tunnel, presumably connecting to the Lambros mansion.

One truck, whose driver's tight schedule left his bladder uneasy, took advantage of the mall's emptiness and parked around a turn. He stepped out and hurried towards a corner, unzipping for some relief.

He couldn't have seen the hitman coming from behind, putting him in a constricting chokehold.

Agent 47 took his clothes and keys. He lifted the stripped body onto a nearby metal bench. And, foraging the nearby trash bins, he found an empty bottle and wrapped the man's fingers around it.

By the time he got to the checkpoint, they already let in the prior two trucks. While one guard skimmed 47's papers, the other two discussed something.

"You know, I worked with some of the Phalanx people back in the day. I was there in the office when Asterios called in, announcing the capture of Aionia Ekstrateia's leaders."

"So, you were a desk clerk?"

"Still worked with him... Meanwhile, you checked receipts at the supermarket."

The first guard handed the papers back to 47. "Alright, you're good to go, sir." He promptly sped away.

The mansion's underground lot was similarly empty. Satisfied, he went to the back of the truck, adorning his suit once again.

A staircase led to the surface. When Agent 47 emerged, he found himself in a world of color; the renowned gardens of Lambros. But rather than take the main staircase where guards lined the sides and more eyes lingered, he noted the veranda off the side of the mansion and opted to venture there. A few steps down the overgrown path, he turned left into the bushes and disappeared.

The lush plants provided convenient cover to the patrols and their flashlights, who swept the walkways in what seemed like a permanently dull pattern. They stopped periodically to tap their earpiece and check in with their captain, ensuring that none of them mysteriously went dark.

Agent 47 ran into a circular clearing, where a little fountain provided white noise to this quadrant of the hill. On it was a plaque commemorating the lives of Jonas' parents, Katia and Vasso, and his brother, Ajax. It read, "The memory of our loved ones is the most beautiful garden in the world, a garden that can never be cut, tended, or erased."

The clearing with the fountain laid against a dirt slope, ramping up to the aforementioned veranda. From there, Agent 47 glanced around. None of the guards faced him. So, he hiked with his knees up high, wanting to scale the slope quickly.

The veranda neared. 47 jumped, grabbed the ledge with his fingers. With a huff, he almost pulled himself up.

Then the door swung open.

A lone person in high heels stepped outside to the frigid air, a welcome break from the lively party atmosphere. She went over to the railing, looking out at the dots of light that let the world know Athens was still alive. And, eyeing the distant guards and checking if anyone followed her, she sighed in relief, not knowing that an assassin sat below her feet.

The woman pulled out her phone and tapped in a number from memory. The call only rang once when the other end picked up. "Did you get Charis?"

"Thanks to you, we did. If we had lost this moment of retribution..."

She smiled. "Then all is well. And now it's on you to avenge our lives once and for all."

"I've dreamed of this moment through every passing moon. Neither of them are leaving this place alive... Does Jonas suspect anything?"

Laughter rang out. "No, my malaka of a husband isn't the least bit aware. But I should get going before he worries."

The two exchanged some pleasantries before she hung up. As she twisted the doorknob, Agent 47 climbed over the railing just in time to see the dress' low back and Eleni's shining hair.

Diana echoed his thoughts. "That didn't sound like a celebratory message for the company's anniversary. Eleni Lambros is up to something, and ."

Food for thought. For now, the gala awaited him. Before entering, Agent 47 cleaned himself up, picking away burrs and bits of dirt. Aside from the results of his foray into the gardens, his timeless look matched with the expected formal attire.

Satisfied, he turned the knob.

"Opa!" Wine glasses clinked at an immense table, seating a circle of friends. Their plates featured high-end Greek and international cuisine, and delicacies such as moussaka and baklava. Others stood about, conversing merrily with one another around the dining room. With the party atmosphere in full swing, Agent 47 was just one more to the growing crowd.

At the end of the room, Eleni left for the adjacent living room. The hitman followed, brushing by a woman's sparkling dress and another leaning into his path from a deep kiss with her lover.

The living room was transformed into a museum-like space, displaying ancient artifacts and artwork purchased from many auctions. Marble murals took up the walls and ceiling, presenting a blinding mix of gold and white. A live band played traditional Greek music while guests mingled.

And, of course, the scent of tobacco pervaded the mansion.

"Well, if it isn't the power couple of Sanguine!" a man's haughty voice greeted. "I hope you'll enjoy your time in Athens. That'll make the discussions about our little deal more fruitful."

"Anything will be better than the flight," the wife, Dalia Margolis, remarked. "Our plane had the wrong amount of fuel, because the airport workers miscalculated when converting the metric system to imperial. So we ran out midflight, and Viktor here was—"

"Please. I don't want to talk about it," he said with a forced grin.

"Good god... I echo my husband's sentiments," Eleni said. "I take it we won't see you in the ballroom, then?"

"I'm afraid not," Dalia answered. "We'll probably head to our suite soon. Get things ready for tomorrow."

"Yeah. But before that, I can't help but notice you've taken a liking to our gift!" Viktor nodded to Eleni and her gorgeous dress.

"What can I say? It's the loveliest one I've laid eyes on!"

The couples excused themselves, and Eleni had locked her arm around her husband. 47's earpiece buzzed. "That is Jonas Lambros, current CEO and figurehead of Lambros Tobacco. His uncle, Silas, is the real one in control, but Jonas was just as complicit in the conspiracy. Be mindful around him. He's taken self-defense classes from the Phalanx since his adolescence."

Still in the phase of greeting their company, Eleni locked eyes with the unfamiliar face of Agent 47.

But instead of the glimmering smile and polite greeting that 47 expected to come, Eleni paled. Her countenance gave way, and she unwittingly tightened her arm around Jonas'.

Agent 47's feet already turned towards the dining room. The targets, least of all Jonas' wife, weren't deeply involved with the Agency—they shouldn't have known his very existence. Did Diana's ghosts she chased warn them? If that were the case, security wouldn't have been so lax. This left the option that this was a coincidence, although that was a gamble.

The hitman threw his dice. "Is something wrong?"

Eleni bobbed her head up at his cadence. Now that he was closer, she could pick at the shrewd details of his face. The color returned to her face, and she couldn't help but laugh quietly. "Oh, no, sorry... I mistook you for someone else."

47 mustered a slight smile. "I get that a lot."

Jonas was glancing between the guest and his wife, though he also made a double take at the former. "What happened?"

"For a moment, I thought that was Charis."

Jonas looked at 47 again, then broke into a more lighthearted laughter. "I don't blame you!" He extended his hand. "Nice to meet you, Mr...?"

47 shook, and Jonas almost let his expression twitch from how cold his hand was. "Rieper. Tobias Rieper. Our companies worked together for a short time."

There must have been a hundred small and big companies associated with them; it was impossible to know them all. Some were only known to Silas, too. Jonas could only nod. "I see... Enjoy the gala, Mr. Rieper."

"Thanks." Before they turned to leave, 47 stopped them with a question. "What's this I heard about a ballroom?"

Jonas raised a brow, but gladly answered. "Why, we're holding a dance within the hour! Did you not get the memo?"

"Apparently not."

He laughed at that.

Then someone dressed in a black uniform and donning a cyan strip down their shoulder appeared beside Jonas. Pinned on his chest was a badge depicting a dome of shields akin to a turtle shell, with dory spears protruding between the cracks. 47 recognized him as part of Jonas' Phalanx. Asterios whispered something into his ear, to which Jonas nodded.

"Sorry, you two. I'll be a bit." He waved, joining his guard away from the crowd.

Eleni excused herself and descended to the next set of guests to greet.

Agent 47 left for the grand foyer near the front doors. It was similarly decorated and had servants offering trays of wine or champagne to the visitors. He'd seen them weaving through the crowds in the other rooms, making themselves known while staying out of the way as much as possible.

The stairs up were each blocked by regular officers. Someone wanted their privacy, and it could only have been Silas.

"Cornelia! I thought I'd see you here." A recent arrival came up to the girl, glancing around.

"Engelhorn?" After she processed that it was indeed him, she relaxed. "Well done. You've guessed what even a kindergartener could. There's only one pair of Venus de Milo's arms, and the Lambros family has them."

Engelhorn shrugged, adding, "Well, I was more certain I'd finally catch your dad."

Her mouth widened in a silent 'Oh'. "Dad really wanted to come along, but he's busy with work. As usual," she said casually.

"Damn... Alright." Engelhorn beckoned for a servant carrying wine, and they promptly hurried over. The servant's existence faded the moment he plucked a glass. "You've seen the ballot for the next Chairman of the Ark, right?"

"Indeed, I have. Let me guess, you wanna talk about Simon Deveraux's candidacy?"

"You read my mind! Simon is a genius, yes, but God have mercy if he ever became Chairman. The moment he gains access to their resources, he's going to blow it all on eugenics."

"Tell me about it. He's either overly ambitious or tone-deaf."

"Right? I have a friend who is Biosphere's financier. She once told me how difficult it was to create legitimate receipts for lost billions, when in fact all of that capital went into his little passion project in the Philippines."

"I've heard of that! But, with Byron Washington's literal existence, he stands zero chance."

47 fazed out of the conversation by then, eyeing the main hall on the second floor. Coming in view was a servant rolling a service cart, then entering one room. For it to have gotten up there, he suspected of an elevator shaft.

It didn't take long for him to find it, placed at the end of a hall and next to the kitchen. A guard stood by it as well, though he was sure none of these rich folk would even think about trespassing. A chef stepped outside for some air, and 47 spotted an entire line of service carts in the kitchen. Each was large enough to hide a person.

Agent 47 then traveled to a patio opposite from the veranda. It was larger and hosted plenty more partygoers, who took this location as the unofficial smoking zone and filled it with tobacco. Rather than join in, he focused more on the second floor and its windows. A bedroom appeared to be on this side, which had wall-high windows blinded by curtains.

A plan formed. Now all he needed was a dance partner.

...

The salsa dancing began a short while ago. The band had migrated from the living room and started with an upbeat symphony. Jonas and Eleni took to the ballroom first, laughing and pulling each other close. To everyone's eyes, they were the perfect couple with an incredible story of their love. The press called it an 'enemies-to-lovers story'; how the Lambroses bought out the Bouras family's declining company, laid off all its associated staff, and dismantled their assets, stirring Eleni's hatred for them. Then how she and Jonas came to understand each other. How, as their feelings connected and hearts opened up, all transgressions were forgiven.

Hestia Petrides sat alone in the ballroom, where she felt awfully stupid for thinking this gala would be any different from the rest. "Go have fun with your friends," Father said. "Bring back an affluent husband," he said. Except her friends were getting ready to dance with their lovers, and Hestia had no interest in these men.

Her friends called her picky, but what choice was there, when they all came in the same thousand-dollar suits and reflective hair?

Despite such thoughts, Hestia sank into her seat. It must have been nice, having someone to hold them. Someone to spill their mind to; to simply lean on. Hestia imagined a partner appearing out of thin air, but she knew better than to count on miracles.

"Excuse me. May I have this dance?"

Hestia shot up in her seat, making its legs scratch against the floor with a grating sound. She lightly slapped her cheek, making sure her imagination didn't just play a trick on her. But as the bald man and his chiseled jawline presented a hand, it was very much reality. She reached for his grasp... then rationality kicked in. Love at first sight didn't exist. He was likely more attracted to her cleavage than anything else. "You don't have to force yourself," she said with a sigh. "I'm perfectly fine alone."

"I don't think so. The way you look at your friends says otherwise."

Her eyelids fluttered wide open. "Was I that obvious...?" More importantly, that meant he was paying attention to her beforehand. "So you're doing this out of pity, then?"

"I'm not."

She stared at him and his emotionless expression, and finally broke into laughter. "You're right, you really don't look the type to do that." Hestia didn't know what to think anymore. But normally, the man would have gone away at this point. So she grabbed his hand and rose. "Let's dance."

"I have to warn you, I'm not a great dancer."

With that, the new couple joined the mass of dancers on the floor. The bald stranger took the lead, much to Hestia's delight. He took her to a clearing next to the Lambroses, where they commenced a slow dance. He was very thoughtful, she felt, as he constantly glanced around as if to make sure they wouldn't be interrupted.

As the music hit a quiet valley, she said in a hushed tone, "So... why ask me?"

"Because I need you."

The bluntness and instant response brought shades of pink to her cheeks. "That's so sappy..."

The bald stranger thrust her into a spin. At the same time, he made eye contact with a distant wine-carrying servant. Without her noticing, he beckoned him over.

Hestia came in again, this time with another remark. "You know, you never told me your name."

"Neither have you."

She conceded on that. It had slipped her mind, having been awoken into this unexpected reality. "Touché. I'm Hestia Petrides. Now you."

They danced closer to Jonas and Eleni. "Tobias Rieper."

Hestia raised a brow. "No way is that real," she joked.

"Maybe it isn't."

"What's that even supposed to mean?"

Tobias glanced at the Lambroses; how fast they rotated. He looked at the approaching servant. And, in a second, he positioned them so that Hestia's back faced the couple. Anticipating a response, she failed to notice any of this.

Nor his foot that snagged hers, making the woman scream as her foot bent, and gave way for the rest of her body. Hestia tumbled to the ground, taking the cautious servant by surprise. Trained to avoid such events, he kicked his legs backward to make distance—at the cost of the tray of wine.

The glasses flew through the air, just as Eleni had faced them. Her ivory white was painted red. The cups shattered into thousands of pieces.

Silence rippled over the guests. First, they stopped dancing. Then the band, noticing the break, paused their performance. The scene was a mess; a fallen lady, a pale-faced servant, the shattered glasses, and Eleni Lambros doused in wine. Then came the murmurs.

Eleni shot a glare. "You... You...!"

Hestia shrank into herself as her heart threatened to burst. A million thoughts raced through her head. She tried to apologize, but the words spilled out as a mumbled mess. Her breath picked up into hyperventilation.

"It was my fault." In seconds, her heart quelled. She looked up to see her partner between them. "I'm an inexperienced dancer. I tripped her."

Eleni directed her gaze to him, but at that point, she realized her position as the hostess. Jonas came around, grabbing her shoulders. "Come, dear, we can change you out of that dress. We can wash the stains out. It's fine..."

Both women had a grip on their emotions. As Hestia rose to her feet, Eleni was smiling again. "Don't blame yourself," she said. "I have plenty in my wardrobe."

The crowd picked up on the fortunate end, and the murmurs returned to regular chatter. Servants were already mopping up the mess, and with Jonas accompanying his wife, they'd be back in no time. The band started up again, and some couples gladly returned to dancing.

Hestia's friends surrounded her, all asking if she was alright, saying that she was lucky, and some curious about her mysterious bald partner.

Speaking of, she realized her cheeks were warm to the touch. She spun to where he stood moments ago. But, to her disbelief, he was already gone.

Some time later, a chef had just noticed an order pad that wasn't there a second ago. It called for service upstairs, meaning Silas was getting antsy again. "A bowl of Kalamata olives and—!" As he read it out, he spotted the assorted items already plated on the nearby service cart. Someone must have readied it and got caught up in other work, he figured.

The chef glanced at his hard-working companions, and wiping the sweat from his forehead, took the cart out. He nodded to the guard, strolling past him and into the elevator.

As the doors shut, the chef was granted a brief reprieve from the endless work. He rested his back against the cart, thinking about his humble cottage and the quietness.

The cart's drawers swung open. Just as the noise registered in his brain, Agent 47 grabbed his neck. He couldn't put up much of a fight.

The elevator pinged. A guard waited on the second floor, and he greeted the lone chef with a smile.

Agent 47 rolled out the cart and the body inside. As it was, Jonas and Eleni had just reached the top of the staircase. They turned their backs to 47, heading down the hall. Rather than following after, he waited until they found and disappeared into their room. Only then did he continue.

47 stopped at a set of double doors in the center, through which he heard a faint voice belonging to his third target. Most of what he said was unintelligible, but he made out a few sentences. "After everything they said... why would they randomly cut us off like this?" and "In times like this, I really wish Hunting Season was still online..."

Not wanting to waste any more time, 47 knocked. The voice fell quiet, and there was a shuffle of movement and pushing of furniture. Before long, an exasperated Silas revealed himself. "What do you want?"

"That is Silas Lambros," Diana chipped in. "The true head of Lambros Tobacco, he has done everything possible to keep all the power in his hands. From the unethical to the criminal. He also happened to be close associates with the former Aristotle Thorakis."

"Here you are, sir." 47 nudged the cart over. "A bowl of Kalamata olives and a bottle of ouzo."

Silas eyes the snacks skeptically. "I didn't ask for these."

"Are you sure?" The hitman peeked over Silas's shoulder, spotting an exhausted group of suits. Lawyers, executives, analysts; they could've been anything. "None of them asked?"

The uncle paused in thought, sparing some glances at the group. Eventually, he shrugged. "Sure, why not? We're gonna be here for a while, anyway..."

With the cart off his hands, no chance of Silas suspecting an unconscious body inside, and no way for the staff to find their missing chef, 47 could move on. Once Silas shut his doors, he tapped on his earpiece.

"Diana, do you have Asterios' contact yet?"

"I have the anonymous tip ready."

"Send it."

Checking to ensure the guard wouldn't spot him, Agent 47 ran to the end of the hallway and climbed out the window. His feet caught a ledge as the frigid winds blew the tobacco smoke into his nostrils. The patio guests remained stuck in their conversations, oblivious to the suited man sidling above.

Inside the bedroom, Eleni had finally chosen a dress to change into, which she threw over a nearby chair. She placed her phone on it, and as she slid the wine-laden dress off—which still hurt to see—a pair of arms wrapped around her waist.

She yelped, but it was obvious who it was. "Jonas..."

"What?" The confusion in his voice might have convinced her, if his hands hadn't moved across her stomach, then to her breast. He knew that she knew the look on his face. "Don't blame me. You knew exactly what you were doing with that dress."

"The guests are—"

"The guests can entertain themselves for a while."

Eleni sighed in mock disbelief. She shivered as wind came through the ajar balcony doors. "I suppose I can humor you. You might not have another chance."

He grinned and began unbuttoning.

But Jonas only reached for his third button when someone knocked at the door. The disappointment on his face was palpable. Eleni couldn't help but laugh, quickly covering up. "It better be quick..." He swung it open. "We're in the middle of—!"

"I'm sorry, sir, but there may be a serious threat." Asterios' stern demeanor cast a cold spell over the room. "We received an anonymous report about a bomb on the premises."

"A what?!" Surprising them both was Eleni's pale-faced shout. "Are you absolutely sure?" She joined her husband at the door, leaving the room nearly vacant while also blocking Asterios' sight further in.

So none of them noticed the balcony doors open slightly more, allowing someone inside.

Asterios shook his head. "We're commencing a sweep of the premises. It's an anonymous tip and therefore unfounded, but I advise to evacuate as a precaution."

"Do you think Charis sent it?" Jonas asked.

"No. There's no reason he'd have remained anonymous."

"No, no, no..." Again, it was Eleni who spoke up. "If it was an anonymous tip, there's a good chance that it's a brazen prank."

"Eleni..." She grabbed Jonas' hand tight, softening his countenance. With a breath, he composed himself to Asterios. "Don't alert the guests, captain. Keep searching until you confirm the actual existence of a threat. If not, then all is well."

"Yes, sir," he replied obediently.

And the couple was alone again. The mood earlier had vanished, replaced with a cold intensity and utter silence. Silence that was only broken by Jonas' attempt to calm his wife. He'd never seen her so shaken before...

But Eleni ignored him, uttering something as panic slowly gripped her eyes. She flipped through her loose clothes and the chair she could have sworn she left her phone on.

"Honey?"

She feigned a smile. "It's nothing big. I just can't find my phone..."

"Oh! I'll give it a call, then."

But there was only silence.

Stress gripped her by the neck. And though Jonas did his best to reassure her with sentences like "We'll definitely find it soon," and "You haven't used your phone all day, anyway, let's enjoy the gala," it was futile. Eleni at least recognized his attempts, and not wanting him to trouble himself anymore, she gripped his hands. "It's fine. Maybe it fell somewhere stupid, but you're right. I'll get it after the gala."

Her expression betrayed her, but Jonas could only smile. "Come on," he said, guiding her up. "Talking to our friends will cheer you up." And it wasn't long before they'd return to the party.

Meanwhile, on the balcony, having turned her phone silent, Agent 47 scrolled through her contact list. The most recent call was from someone titled 'Bouras'.

It was in their texts that 47 knew he was onto something. She and 'Bouros' had a short, random history of texts. Names, locations, pictures of buildings and celebrities. The latest text came from 'Bouros' only a few days ago, which read "Parthenon Pest Pros."

"47," Diana began, "Parthenon Pest Pros was a small extermination business that saw few customers. It filed for bankruptcy a month ago..."

"Does it have an address?"

"Yes. Its old headquarters are placed next to a long-defunct nightclub. I'm sending you its coordinates. This might be related to the group of shadows we're chasing; only one way to find out..."

Agent 47 retraced his steps, making sure to set Eleni's phone where she left it, and leaving the balcony doors at their prior exact angle. He took the elevator, donning his formal suit, which he hid above the hatch. And, wearing the chef outfit over it, evaded suspicion from the guard.

He left through the front, briefly eyeing the magnificent statues and descending the hill.

Without an invitation, he might as well be back at square one, but 47 had a feeling this lead would make up for it.

Some driving later, he wound up down a poorly lit street with a few cars parked. Indeed, Parthenon Pest Pros' building was there among a line of many, its sign worn and dilapidated, and its windows boarded up. Beside it was the similarly derelict nightclub.

There was a narrow alleyway around the club, revealing a fire exit and backdoor—both of which were locked. An empty dumpster sat against the wall, which 47 took advantage of. Scaling on top of it, it provided enough height for him to climb onto the rim of a lower domed roof.

There was a hole in the side of the dome, providing entrance.

From there, the hitman dropped inside. He landed on the metal supports of a light rig. At that moment, voices echoed throughout.

"Argiris!" a man shouted in delight. "So you made it, after all! I was worried you wouldn't make it."

"And miss the fight for freedom? It was tough, knowing my wife will have to raise our dear Thekla alone... but it's tougher knowing that capitalist pigs will own her life as she comes of age. She will be grateful for us."

One of them waded into the moonlight. They wore all black and carried a scrunched up ski mask in hand. It would have been a tactical choice if it weren't for the capital A surrounded in a circle, painted in all white across their entire torsos.

"47, I recognize their outfits. These are anarchists from Aionia Ekstrateia, Eternal Campaign in English, and more commonly referred to as AE. Their leaders were captured years ago and considered demobilized. Clearly, that isn't the case."

Agent 47 walked across the supports, finding a pillar decked in dusty wires. He climbed down until he was level with a mezzanine, which had an old bar against the wall. The seats and tables had been picked up and put together, evident by the clear cavities on the dusty floor.

"With you here, that makes seven of us... Don't make that face, brother. What matters is that our message is heard."

"You're right... Where's Ajax? I'm getting antsy; we need to go over the plan again, especially for those newbies that Stergios brought."

"Then you are in luck, my friends!" A third entered the dance floor, whose voice boomed over the others, abundant with confidence. Judging by the footsteps, the rest of the seven had come with. "Come. Join me on the mezzanine. As the hour of retribution nears, you will all become gods of all that is right and just! We shall strike against the demons that are strangling our world of life and freedom! And that imp posing as my 'brother' shall burn in hell."

Agent 47 dove behind the bar. One by one, they ascended the stairs. Leading them was the loud man grinning ear-to-ear. His face and skin carried uneven gashes and craters of pink; his hair follicles were all burnt away. But some things were unmistakable, such as the eye shape and jawline that mirrored his brother.

"47... that is Ajax Lambros, Jonas' older brother who died in the fire..."

The anarchists sat at the table—their makeshift war room. Ajax unrolled blueprints of the mansion, and a flashlight flickered on. "My brothers, in the dead of night, Greece will awaken to our dreams of liberation, when the capitalist guests are weary, and the Phalanx is in the middle of their annual debrief." He turned to one associate. "Alexios, is the IED ready?"

"Yes. I've kept it safe in my quarters."

Agent 47 peeked out, marking Alexios by his distinct curly hair.

"Good. Soon, I will send you and Argiris under the guise of a pest extermination company. Plant it where you see fit. When it detonates at the stroke of midnight—four hours from now—we shall attack from all sides. Remember, the higher the body count, the louder our message is heard. Much like the TruthSpeakers have done in the states—bless those enlightened ones."

"Ajax, should we not strike now?" one asked. "We don't know how much Charis told the Phalanx—and how privy Eleni is to their matters."

"You underestimate that woman," he answered flatly. "Eleni was there with me when nobody else was. She saved my life when my only family wanted me dead, and my own brother robbed me of my fortune. She has been the shining ray of light, not only for me, but for Aionia Ekstrateia. I believe her wholly. Besides, Charis can't spill anything anymore."

Ajax rose, followed by the other six. "Ready your body armor and your weaponry. While Argiris and Alexios handle the bomb, we must situate ourselves. We won't have another opportunity like this again; Jonas and Silas must die."

Once their steps faded and 47 was certain they were gone, he emerged from his hiding spot. They had left the blueprint on the table, which even included knowledge of the tunnel to the mall. Circled in red was a spot on the seldom-used third floor, close to the entrance's pediment.

The hitman tapped his earpiece. "I'm assuming the objective has changed?"

"You stand correct. If Ajax is left alive, he will plunder everything that his family touched, including anything related to the Agency. Given his clear ideology, the outcome won't be pretty for us."

"Understood."

Contract Updated
Targets: The Strawman, The Vengeance, The Puppeteer

Agent 47 followed Alexios through the nightclub. The anarchists had gone their separate ways, presumably to spend the last hours of what they knew was finite time. The building was only lit by lanterns placed on chairs or hung on nails, leaving most of the interior shrouded in darkness.

Alexios entered a karaoke room, and 47 was forced to wait outside.

"It has been too long; it feels like the public has already forgotten about Aionia Ekstrateia. A government measure, no doubt, to silence our message."

The hitman hugged the wall, where the lanterns did not reach.

"Indeed. What I'm looking forward to most is avenging our leaders. That government dog, Asterios, has been hiding in a veil of luxury since being awarded for the execution of our brothers."

"Yeah? If only we hadn't buried Charis already. I'd love to see his reaction to us parading his body around."

The door clicked open. Alexios, adorned in the Parthenon Pest Pros' outfit, left his quarters. He joined the two anarchists down the hall, and they disappeared in the distance.

47 intruded immediately, finding the room mostly barren. Save for a mess of clothes, empty plates and crumbs, a poster dedicated to the AE leaders, and a flimsy mattress, there was little comfort. But it was the gallon-sized spray bottle with the pest control logo slapped on the side that caught his eye. It was, as 47 correctly thought, the perfect place to hide an IED.

He unscrewed the lid, letting the device slip into his hands.

The hitman then took Alexios' discarded outfit and ski mask, donning them for his own disguise. As long as he didn't linger around the others for long, it would serve him well enough.

This allowed him to skirt around the couple of loitering anarchists on the main dance floor. Criminals, either inexperienced, lacking time, or overly confident, always made the same blunders when disposing of the dead. This group happened to be the latter two. A smell, though faint, was familiar to 47.

And though the AE was smart enough to not just leave the body out in the open, they hadn't buried him deep enough.

Agent 47 followed to scent to a concrete powder grave in the rooms behind the DJ booth. He started digging, using the shovel thrown into the corner.

He only dug six times before the skin of a man came to light. The corpse, pale and caked from the dust, was that of a bald Charis. He was still wearing the AE uniform. But of more interest to 47 were the belongings on his chest that were buried with him: a pocket-sized journal.

Fortunately, its contents weren't badly damaged. Its front page housed a list of codes, all but one crossed out. He flipped to later pages.

Charis' prowess not only extended to the AE, but to Lambros' family affairs as well. From the under-the-table dealings committed by Silas in relation to other companies' buyouts and the silencing of anti-smoking speakers—even his former involvement with the ICA—Jonas had employed him for any clandestine operation. His last notes consisted entirely of the Aionia Ekstrateia. Charis had convinced them that he fell out with the Phalanx and wanted to betray them. He had jotted down profiles on each member, from their fighting style, habits, and the smallest of details. Even the AE's plan of attack.

However, nothing connected the family to the global rebellion. A fact that Diana noticed as well. "Nothing... No names, no contacts, no history, nothing about his meeting in Venezuela. Even though we know for certain that the Lambros family was involved against the ICA..."

The only explanation was that the ghosts she chased had already spotted her.

In a heap near Charis' pants was another outfit: the Phalanx's own uniform. He likely brought it with him as a proof of his 'betrayal.'

Agent 47 donned the outfit. He left through the fire exit, able to unlock it from inside. His destination was the Lambros mansion.

The gatehouse guard almost dozed away when the suit of a Phalanx officer caked in concrete powder appeared at the window. He knew about the missing officer and immediately recognized him.

"Let me in. But don't inform them of my arrival. There are people in there working with the AE."

Without a moment's hesitation, the gate slid open.

47 made sure to avoid getting in the vicinity of other Phalanx officers. He couldn't reveal himself just yet. He made his way upstairs as the regular guards became submissive to the uniform. Up to the third floor, where the red circle marked the target.

The gala was gradually dying down when the explosion ripped through the mansion. Half of the pediment collapsed to the ground. The expensive statues saw chunks fly away, destroying parts of the garden like meteors. Debris caught on the rest of the pantheon; Nemesis' base was damaged, making her lean slightly toward the entrance. Banners and decor fell from the ceiling, and some artifacts inside shattered. Screams filled the mansion.

From the nightclub, Ajax and the Aionia Ekstrateia watched the billows of smoke in bewilderment and horror. Had someone chosen to attack on the same day? Whatever the case, their resting period had been cut dramatically short. Ajax yelled at his men to move. So much has been sacrificed for this moment; he won't let divine retribution escape his family.

Eleni was near the entrance doors when the bomb went off. The shockwave blew her off her feet, a wave of fiery air singing her arms. Smoke filled the grand foyer, and she covered her head as debris rained down on them. She didn't understand; the bomb was supposed to detonate at midnight! Did they text her a warning about the change in plan?

"Get out of the foyer!" Asterios yelled. "It's unstable here!"

Someone with tremendous strength grabbed Eleni, dragging her across the room. She broke into a fit of coughs, feeling her feet meet the living room's suddenly icy floor.

"Eleni!"

"Jonas..." When she cracked her eyes open, her arms were blanketed in soot. She felt it on the rest of her body with every movement. Her husband crashed into her with a hug, though her mind was elsewhere.

There was a clamoring some distance away. She glanced at it, spotting the team of six that made up the Phalanx. Except, there was a seventh—the man she was told had been disposed of. Their eyes met, and Eleni paled. "Charis?!" she cried, making Jonas recoil. "You're supposed to be dead!"

"Eleni...?"

She turned to him, donning a rage Jonas had never seen before. In the next moment, she lunged at his neck.

A desperate attack that Jonas countered with ease, twisting her arm and bringing his wife to the ground. She choked out pained groans, almost growling. Her beautiful blonde hair was caked in black, kicked in a mess that usually ended with her frustration at the servants. The hate in her eyes made Jonas sick to the stomach; this was not his wife.

"Guards! What the hell is going on?!" Silas emerged from the smoke, next, accompanied by his accountants. "Are we under attack?"

"Jonas. Silas." Asterios came up to the former, pushing his boss back and putting Eleni in cuffs. "Charis has returned. Your lives are in imminent danger, according to him."

Then all eyes were on 'Charis'. The elite Phalanx, Jonas, Silas, Eleni—all needing someone to trust in this heated moment. "Eleni has been conspiring with the Aionia Ekstrateia. Captain, I believe you're familiar with them." The captain nodded gravely. Agent 47 pulled out a familiar cellphone. "She's been in contact with someone called 'Bouros', which has been a constant back and forth of seemingly meaningless texts. But she and I know who is on the other end." He glared daggers into her, demanding she confess.

Jonas was going to find out, anyway. And she could at least die happy with his reaction to be burned into memory. Eleni grinned a sinister snarl. "Ajax Lambros."

The Phalanx glanced amongst each other.

"That's impossible..." Silas remarked. "Quit messing around! Ajax has been dead for over a decade now."

Jonas scoffed. For once, the two had agreed on something.

A temporary reprieve from which 'Charis' ended too soon. "She's telling the truth."

"You really have no idea how much you fucked up!" she spat at the Lambroses. "So blinded by privilege and arrogance. Did you two really think you could escape your crimes? That the fire you both started had burnt all your guilt away?"

"What are you talking about...?" Jonas asked. He glanced at his uncle, and to his shock, Silas had blanched.

"Your day of reckoning is here! All the lives you ruined will remember this day in glory. Because none of you will leave this place alive!"

"Dear..." Jonas uttered.

"Do not call me that!" she screeched. "My name is Eleni Bouras! I never once considered myself part of your disgraceful family. And I never loved you."

His heart sank at those words. From the wedding to their many passionate nights; was all of it truly a lie? Was this really the same woman who whispered words of honey...? And there was still the other revelation to process.

"Ajax Lambros... my brother..." Jonas turned his glare to Silas. "Uncle. Is what she's saying true? Was the fire not an accident? Were my parents murdered by you? And is my brother still alive, wanting our deaths because of you?!"

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came.

"Sir, if I may," 'Charis' interjected. "We don't have much time. Ajax and the AE are approaching our mansion from all sides. They are heavily armed and experts in combat. The only way we will survive is by fighting them."

Jonas couldn't take his eyes off of her, as he did many times before when he sought comfort. But Eleni had no more love to spare. "You're right... Asterios, get the security staff to corral and shelter the guests still inside. Charis, ready your notes. Tell us everything that will help us." And to Silas, "We'll talk later."

The Phalanx promptly evacuated the living room, moving the guests into the nearby dining room. They left Silas and Eleni in the hands of regular security, then pulling a table to the center. The seven gathered around their spy. "The stage is yours, Charis," Asterios said.

Agent 47 produced the journal. "There are seven attackers coming from all sides. I've profiled each of them in detail; their fighting styles, strengths, and habits in combat."

"But how are they getting in?" Jonas asked.

"The underground parking lot. I bet they've already killed the gate security down there and are on their way."

"So each of us will have to match them... Captain, I'm letting you take charge here. You know your men best."

47 continued. "Coming from the western garden is a man named Argiris. He is known to use vast amounts of pyrotechnics and explosives. His job will be to damage as much of the mansion as possible, inciting chaos in our ranks."

Asterios snapped to a subordinate in an instant. "Rena, you're up. His close range tactics won't matter against a marksman. I doubt he'll expect it, either."

"In the northwest, Miron, a CQC expert, will attempt to infiltrate the building and climb to the second floor. His job is to pillage any documents that might prove valuable to their cause."

"Stella, he's yours. There's nobody on earth who can beat you in hand-to-hand."

"Flanking through the back gates are Trifonas and Minoas. They're carrying the heaviest weapons and Juggernaut armor. They're the main killing force."

"But Juggernaut armor is heavy and cumbersome. Pericles, Eliza, take the ballistic shields and mid-range weapons. Wear them out; exhaust them. They won't reach the mansion."

"The northeast will see Alexios take up a position with a sniper rifle."

"Stephanos, that's for you. Getting behind the enemy is your specialty."

"One named Stergios will approach from the east."

"I know him," Asterios said. "He was the AE leader's right hand. I imagine he wants my blood. I will deal with him."

"What about the seventh?" Jonas asked.

Agent 47 locked eyes with his target. "Attacking from the front entrance is your brother, Ajax Lambros."

A silence lulled over the group. With the Phalanx already spread out, there seemed to be only one option. "I will deal with him."

"Sir," Asterios interjected, "I advise that you go with your uncle into safety. Once we take care of the attackers, we'll intercept Ajax—"

"You have my gear ready, correct?" The captain recognized that look. There was no denying him. "Whether we like it or not, Ajax is the Lambros' responsibility. I've done enough running."

...

Hestia was overwhelmed. Her friends disappeared in the swarms of guests crammed into the dining room, yelled at by guards and their orders to remain in place. A fruitless endeavor from the team, as Hestia could pick out bits and pieces from the cacophony of voices.

"What if another bomb goes off?"

"Let us out! I need to go home!"

"You can't seriously expect me to wait for death to take me!"

And Hestia agreed. She ended up against the window toward the front. Blue and red lights flashed in the distance, affirming her belief that things would turn out fine.

"You all can wait to be buried under 10 meters of rubble if you want, but you middle-class hobos don't get to control me!" An older man carried a chair up high, throwing it against the window. It shattered, and Hestia felt a wave of cold air.

The old man jumped out, and despite the officers' desperate attempts, many followed after. Hestia fled with them. As far as she (and everyone else) was concerned, the biggest danger was the mansion itself.

Her feet took control before her mind, running Hestia through the gardens and nearly tripping from the hill's slope. She felt her dress tear against the bushes, and she clicked her tongue—and felt ridiculous for worrying about her clothes in a time of crisis. They just needed to go down the flight of stairs, and they'd be into the streets where their chauffeurs must have been waiting.

Spurred by the thought of being in her mother and father's presence again, Hestia pushed to the front of the crowd.

There, she saw a man in all black emerge from the parking lot entrance. His hairless head was covered in horrific scars and skin grafts, but it was his grin at them that cast fear. Joining him were a few others, and only now did she recognize the weapons in their hands. The anarchists raised their rifles at the crowd.

Hestia was the first to scream—and the first to fall silent.

When the crowd was either dead or escaped, Ajax shouted for his men to move, and they split up toward their designated positions. He walked over the cadavers, more disgusted by their clothes and accessories than their faces forever frozen in fear.

Beyond them was the entrance. Many years ago, he developed a habit of staring from afar. He thought that one day, the guards would recognize him and smile the way they did at Jonas. Instead, the gatehouse workers laughed at his claims. Or sneered at his face. He didn't know which one was worse.

He had thought many times about asking Eleni what it was like. But now, ascending the stairs to God's gift, he couldn't care less. That life was not for the virtuous.

"Ajax!"

He held on the trigger and sprayed.

The owner of the voice dove behind a statue of Hermes, which had rolled down the stairs before leering to the side and getting caught by a tree. When the gunfire stopped, two hands rose over the cover, one holding a pistol. "It's me... Jonas."

Jonas, he mouthed. So the bastard knew about him already. That was somewhat disappointing. But there was no reason to complain. "I thought I'd have to do a lot more digging to unearth my murderer."

"Ajax. Please. I want to talk."

"If you want to talk, throw down your guns."

"Well... I'm afraid you'd shoot me."

"As am I, which means we're at a stalemate."

A second of silence. Then, from Jonas, "I promise it to the air."

For the briefest of moments, Ajax wavered. And if Jonas was looking, he'd have recognized the teary-eyed boy who broke the glass coffee table, begging his brother to not tell a soul. "I promise it to the air."

Both their guns clattered against the floor.

Jonas revealed himself, finally taking in the man that was his brother. He had to admit—his emotions were less rampant than he anticipated. Perhaps it was the cognitive dissonance from then and now. Or perhaps, "Ajax... this whole time, I thought you were dead. That the fire started as the reports said: from one of our parents' late night smoking sessions. But now I know it was uncle who started the fire that night... I am so sorry..."

"So you proclaim innocence." His cadence remained indignant. But the fact he was listening, Jonas knew, was a reassurance. "Don't apologize. It's unseemly of you. Besides, I've learned something from the fire." Ajax stepped closer to him. "The forest of capitalism has only kept the sun from the saplings below. And the only thing that will bring about new growth is the flames of liberation."

A chill ran down Jonas' spine. He didn't know if it was his words, or the glint of a blade under Ajax's coat.

"Tell me, brother... Are you really willing to leave the cushy canopy of wealth untold?" The silence was telling. Ajax dipped his head, partly disappointed in himself for expecting anything more. "Fear not... I will set you free."

Ajax thrust his dagger. Jonas swiped his arm, redirecting the swing and locking his arm, leaving the knife useless. The two exchanged blows, and the fight had begun.

At the northwest angle, Stella had finished Miron off with ease. Hiding in the garden's dense shrubbery, she waited for him to infiltrate and stalked him like a panther. And, much like the animal, she struck his vitals and stuffed his throat with blood for a silent assassination.

"Tango down," she said into the radio. "I'm on my way to help with the back entrance."

And, with utmost efficiency in mind, she left. Agent 47 was free to loot Miron of the rappelling rope around his waist.

An explosion of fire erupted from the west garden as Argiris fell to a well-placed bullet. Gunfire filled the air around the mansion, as sirens finally drew faintly close. From the ground level, reporters scrambled on top of vehicles and buildings to record over the walls.

At the forefront of the news was Jonas engaging in a bloody fistfight with an unknown assailant. Ajax had pushed him back, refusing to give his brother a break with the attacks. They gradually stepped closer to the entrance, next to the statues.

Off to the side, Agent 47 scaled a cypress tree, then grabbing onto Poseidon's trident, which had stabbed into the tree after tipping from the explosion. He pulled himself up, balancing on the prongs, then the handle. Nearing Poseidon's grip, 47 could reach the top of his head and scale that, making it over the statue.

The next pillar, that of Athena, remained straightened. Not that it helped support what was left of the pediment, as her head was blown clean off. One of her legs met a similar fate, and a noticeable crack emerged on its last foot. Its survival was a miracle, for both it and Agent 47.

He eyed the brawl once again. They had moved up a few steps. Ajax forced Jonas on the defensive, trying to strike his openings. Jonas could barely keep up with reacting to his moves. Even through his body armor, Ajax's knuckles hit the air out of him.

Agent 47 jumped, grabbing the edge of the pediment's front. He climbed on, now skirting the mural and sidling closer to Athena. Now, in the space between her and Poseidon, he attached the rope and rappelled down. He peeked out one last time, making sure the brothers were in the zone. 47 began swinging.

Ajax threw a wide swing. Jonas took that moment to deliver a strike to his exposed stomach—the solar plexus. It connected, and Ajax keeled over, devoid of breath. But, with an energy that could only have derived from spite, he tackled Jonas to the floor.

Once Agent 47 picked up enough speed, he put his feet out and rammed into Athena's side. The impact made a loud thud, followed by cracking at her base. She fell against the pillar of Ares, sending him over as well, like dominoes.

And at the end of the line was Nemesis. Ares met her with a decisive strike.

Jonas was blocking his face from the strikes, and his arms were growing numb. It was through the crack in his defense that he saw it. "Ajax!" he cried, and his brother threw one more punch. Then the crumbling sound turned him away, and they both stared death in the eye.

The impact sent a wave of dust and soot into the air. Nemesis crashed through the floor, making the red carpet bunch up. All was quiet at the front doors.

"Jonas and Ajax Lambros eliminated," Diana confirmed. "Now for Silas."

Inside the mansion, as the gunfire stopped, six people returned. The Phalanx, utterly victorious against the anarchists, brought relief to the wise ones who stayed in safety. It was Asterios who first learned of his boss' fate, thanks to 'Charis' and his story. From their fateful meeting to the poetic way that their lives ended.

And as the curious and hopeful guests gathered around, he turned to address them all. "The mansion is safe, and the attackers have been fended off. The brothers, however, have killed each other."

The crowd murmured to each other, finding solace in that they all went through the same thing. Some expressed sorrow at Jonas' brave sacrifice. Among the crowd, Agent 47 picked out Silas, pale as a sheet, weaseling his way through the crowd. He was accompanied by one guard and the handcuffed Eleni.

Before the hitman could tail them, though, Asterios grabbed his shoulder. "Charis, I want to thank you for your service. Without you, I have no doubt the AE would have gotten further in their scheme."

"Mm," was his response. "Make sure you thank the rest of the team."

"Where are you going?"

"There's some business I wish to take care of first. I won't take long."

Asterios gazed at Silas and nodded. Then he tended to the survivors and his team. When asked about Silas' death, he would claim not to know anything.

Silas made it to the underground parking lot when he finally let out a yell. Was this his punishment, he wondered, that the universe bestowed on him? For wanting more in life and getting it the only way possible?

He grabbed Eleni's arm, throwing her down the steps. She screamed the entire way down, landing on the concrete with a loud thud. Silas whispered to his guard, "Kill her."

The guard promptly retrieved his pistol, descending the steps. Silas walked past them and to his vehicle. He ignored the gunshot behind him.

Getting into the passenger seat, Silas tried to still his shaking hands. A mental checklist formed in his mind; who he needed to call to make sure everything would remain in order. Another call to make sure Eleni's death would be linked to the terrorist attack.

Come to think of it, everything still belonged in his possession. But the thought brought little calm.

In the rearview mirror, he saw what he assumed was his guard's suit approaching the vehicle. If he paid a little more attention, he might have noticed the unconscious body beside Eleni's corpse. So he was very confused when his 'guard' opened the back door and jumped in there.

Then the cold barrel pressed against his head. He soiled his pants.

"Hello, Silas. I have some questions, if you don't mind answering."

Whimpering, he nodded.

"Good. In your office. Who were the suits?"

"C-Corporate fixers..."

"The same people who covered up the fire?"

Silas bit his lip; until 47 pressed the silencer harder against his head. "Yes..."

"And what were you doing in there?"

"This... group calling themselves the Great Rebellion had blackmailed me. Threatened to spill my actions to the press if I didn't offer money. But then they up and disappeared; wiped all our conversations clean. I had no idea what this meant! We were discussing the possibilities, but we never got anywhere!"

"Is this 'Great Rebellion' the same people you brokered a transaction with in Venezuela?"

"Y-Yes... How did you know about that?"

"What did they want?"

"People! I don't know what for... They kept me in the dark about everything."

47 pressed the barrel more, making Silas' head tilt.

"Please!" he cried. "I swear I'm telling the truth!"

"Anything else you know about them?"

"That's all I know! I swear on my life! They only contacted me online, but it's all wiped! They threatened, I gave money, that's all that happened!"

"I see." Agent 47 lowered his pressure, letting him breathe.

"You... You're from the Agency, aren't you?" No response. "They told me one more thing. Said that, if I cooperated, I would get revenge for what happened to Aristotle. That they would bring his killer straight to me."

"They were right about one thing." 47 wrapped his finger on the trigger. "His killer is right here."

Total fear gripped his heart.

Agent 47 pulled the trigger. "Confirmed kill on Silas. All targets are down. It's time to go, 47; we've gotten what we could."

Silas' body crumpled on the parking lot floor. The hitman started the car, speeding down the tunnel. He passed the dead gate guards, disappearing into the mall.

---

BILLIONAIRE LAMBROSES DEAD AFTER ANARCHIST ATTACK ON FAMILY HOME

Aionia Ekstrateia, an anarchist terror group once declared demobilized, launched a brutal attack, leaving 28 dead.

The Lambros family was renowned in Greece for their tumultuous tales of corporate greed and romance. Lambros Tobacco, a billion-dollar company, was celebrating their 25th anniversary at the family home: a $55 million mansion on top of a hill. Affluent guests from around the world were invited, from the owners of the powerful fashion company, Sanguine, to private citizens. The family—controversially—invested millions more into carving beautiful details of the Greek pantheon as pillars at their entrance.

The gala was attacked by seven terrorists from the anarchist group, Aionia Ekstrateia, or AE. After an explosion destroyed the front of the mansion, claiming the lives of 12, they entered the grounds via an underground tunnel to a parking lot. Though security advised guests to remain inside, many panicked and tried escaping to the front—where the attackers came from.

AE extremists gunned down 16 lives on the steps. They then circled around the mansion, trying to flank from all sides. It is thanks to the security team known as the Phalanx that the attackers were stopped, and many lives saved.

Jonas Lambros, the young CEO of Lambros Tobacco, bravely faced one attacker in a fistfight at the front. News cameras captured both of their deaths on live television, having been crushed to death by a statue of Nemesis, damaged in the prior explosion. Silas and Eleni Lambros were found dead in the underground parking lot, presumably shot by the AE while trying to escape.

While a horrible tragedy, many online forums have voiced shocking celebrations in response. With claims that "they deserved it," much of the discourse revolves around the fact that the attendees hailed from the top 1%.

Jonas had inherited the company at a young age after a tragic house fire killed his immediate family. Silas, his uncle, assumed control as regent until he became of age. However, many theorized that Silas was using Jonas as a figurehead, taking control of his funds and assets even as Jonas came of age. Such accusations have been repeatedly denied by Jonas, who spoke of his uncle as caring and easygoing...

EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT THE UPCOMING PRESIDENTIAL DEBATES

In a time of historical unrest in the United States, nothing is flaming up the populace more than the upcoming Presidential Debates. Taking place in Nashville, Tennessee, controversial president Garton Rogers—the most hated president in recent history—is pitted against Senator Bud Davis of Kentucky. Tensions have hit a breaking point, and misinformation is at an all-time high. So, what do you need to know about the two candidates?

President Rogers has been caught in the biggest scandal since Watergate. Not only did he carry out an affair on the First Lady (who thankfully divorced him), he personally provided nuclear launch codes to Russian extremists, if the Free Bird files leaked by Surtr have anything to say about it. Rogers has destroyed the economy even before the controversy, responsible for rising unemployment levels and immigration rates. In response to the nationwide riots, he condemned reliable sources of information and news outlets, infringing on the 1st Amendment. He even threatened to use the National Guard to dispatch of peaceful protests!

On the other hand, Senator Davis has stood up to the tyranny of President Rogers when nobody else has. He has promised to fix this country and revert all of Rogers' horrid policies. He will take a stand against Russia and equalize the wealth gap; through force if need be, which is a crucial and bold step forward. Rogers' fake news agencies keep trying to paint Davis' past with "racism and far-right ideologies" using edited sources of information and distorting facts. Senator Davis has not once relied on corruption or dishonesty to earn his position.

We hope that you use this completely unbiased news source to vote for the ideal president once the ballots are up!

JAPANESE SCHOOL CAUSES CONTROVERSY WITH CLAIMS OF "FIXING" MENTAL ILLNESSES

For anyone post-graduation in Japan, and happen to be of wealth, they may find themselves eligible for the Tokyo Academy of Reason and Reflection, or TARR. This is an optional set of courses that, according to the website, "will leave troubled adults cured of retardedness and fit for human society." A statement that, combined with multiple testimonies from former students, is a blanket term for torture and severe punishment.

According to an anonymous graduate, staff kept a keen eye on students. Anyone who showed any sign of "disorder" would be subject to electric shock therapy as punishment. These "disorders" could be as harmless as stimming, which helps neurodivergent people manage emotions and cope with overwhelming stimuli.

In 2002, a TARR faculty tied the anonymous graduate down to a board and shocked them 31 times at the highest amperage setting. The first time was for shaking their leg while sitting at a desk. The remaining 30 was for crying and shaking.

Their story is only one of many. Other sources cite that TARR has recently implemented a hierarchy system based on "social points," in which more "normal" students were given better privileges. At the very bottom, access to lavatories is stripped away. At the very top, students were given permission to order and dish out punishments as they see fit.

Despite its history, the academy still has many vehement supporters—parents who claim their kids were "cured" by its practices. Its most notable endorser comes from CICADA Director Yoshihara Nozomi, whose descendants are reportedly attending.

Many disability rights organizations still call for the academy's closure...

---

London, England

Savi's old mansion was mostly the same as she remembered it. The garden plants had withered into a dry and sad brown. Mold and mildew turned the exterior walls a shade darker. But more surprising were the armed gangsters filling the property.

It seems nostalgia affected them both. But another part of Diana was growing weary of mansions.

Diana was noticed by one of them, a man of dirty blonde hair reaching his shoulders, barking orders to the others. He uncrumpled a ball of paper that he stuffed in his pocket, glancing between it and her. To her surprise, he shouted for the gates to open. Even more so were his first words. "Ms. Burnwood." He offered a hand and a crooked smile. "The name's Aiden Reeves. You may know me as the Robinson's Top Dog, the best of the best. The boss lady was expecting you."

"The boss lady?" Diana observed his hand and the one in his pocket, and after deeming it safe, hesitantly shook. "Does it happen to be someone named Madelyn Chase?"

He confirmed with a wider grin, showing off a couple of missing teeth. "Head over to the front doors. Her lover will lead you around."

Diana was still hung up over how they knew she was coming, and before she knew it, she was standing on the gravel pathway. After some steps, the handler glanced behind her. The gangsters had amassed an entire army beyond the metal fence, turning the outer area upside down as if searching for someone. In fact, everywhere she looked, someone was stationed at the window or even the vent grilles.

It was one surprise after another. "Angelo Agosti?" Of all the people to greet her, the last person she expected was the last Agosti.

"In the flesh! Sorry, but I gotta search you. I'm told you're a cunning one." For someone whose entire family was killed, he didn't appear too pressed. He patted her body—spending a suspicious amount of time around her buttocks. "So, you're Madelyn's old friend? Sei bellissima. I've heard that redheads are the sexiest kind of woman, and you fit that to a T." Angelo laughed heartily.

Diana rolled her eyes.

"Alright, all clean! Let's go." The moment they stepped inside, Diana felt overwhelmed; so much so that Angelo's flirts didn't even register. It wasn't the amount of guards, either. The last time she checked on this place, it was becoming worn down and dilapidated. Now? Everything was as it was 20 years ago. It was a mix of nostalgia and disgust.

They turned through the rooms and down the halls. Muscle memory kicked in, and she recognized their route: the path of Savi's office. Soon enough, the mahogany door beheld them. "You seem awfully stressed. I can help relieve some of that." Diana remembered Angelo was here. She must've not hid her confusion well, because he asked, "Why the face?"

"I thought you'd show some humility now that your whole family is gone."

He raised a brow, though still keeping his smug grin. "What?"

Oh, you poor thing. "Give them a call." Diana offered a consoling smile, then stepped inside the office.

The door closed behind her. Angelo nervously scrolled through his contacts.

With Angelo's growing curses muffled behind, Diana found herself alone with a familiar face. Sitting in the former seat of her older sister, Madelyn Chase turned to her with a glare so unlike the Madelyn she knew. A deep V-neck rimmed with white fur revealed her cleavage and a belly button.

"He said you'd come here."

If there was any doubt, Diana recognized her voice. It was older, but definitely her. Nobody else had Savi's cadence.

"Impressed? I'm finally getting my life in order; reclaiming the life that was taken away from me. The life that I deserve." Madelyn walked around the desk, sitting on it as she faced her old friend. "I would've shared it with you, but I bet you were quite comfortable in your office playing God."

"Madelyn..." For once, Diana was at a loss for words. She had suspected correctly, but actually meeting her was different. "What... What happened?"

She scoffed. "After you got Savi killed, what do you think happened? The job that I was forced into became my only way to survive! You got so wrapped up in your revenge against Blue Seed that little Madelyn Chase was forgotten."

"I thought you were killed alongside Savi."

"I wish. I really wish that was the case..."

A knock at the door, but he let himself in, anyway. Aiden smiled at Diana, coming up to his boss' side. "We've swept the area, and all entrances are accounted for. She's all alone."

Diana's eyes widened. "You thought I'd—?"

"Yes," Madelyn said matter-of-factly. "I know about your little pet in the Agency. I'm more surprised you didn't bring him along. You walked in here alone; I took you to be wiser than that."

Diana took a breath, putting her thoughts in order. Madelyn essentially confirmed that there were still moles in the Agency. And feeling sorry for herself wasn't going to make any progress. "For what it's worth, the way I treated you back then was wrong."

"Don't apologize, Diana. What kind of self-respecting lady would I be if I didn't have it in myself to look past one's mistakes? My savior has shown a new path for me. One that doesn't have me embark on a self-destructive path of revenge. Because, as he puts it, we're ultimately fighting for the same thing."

He? Diana couldn't think of anyone else but Surtr. But she still held no evidence, and that's what frustrated her the most. "And what is that thing?"

"Equality. A world where I don't need to cover up the stains of my past to be respected. Where even someone like me, who had to sell my body as a kid, can have the luxury of clean hair and expensive clothes."

She was definitely talking about Surtr. "I doubt that. People will always be greedy and spiteful, and this method of fighting won't erase that. Besides, are you really going to keep this mansion and an army of gangsters in a world of equality?"

Madelyn's brow twitched. "You won't think that way forever. Not when Ragnarok comes, and the world is released from their oppressive governments of corruption and greed."

Diana kept her mouth shut. She saw no point in provoking her ideologies further. She already learned everything she could get from this encounter, too. Madelyn seemed to realize this as well.

"Aiden, please escort Ms. Burnwood out of the premises. I believe we're done here."

"You got it, boss." The gangster led her out. They passed a pale-faced Angelo, whose father hadn't picked up his past 23 calls, and whose calls to his wife never dialed for more than a second. They made it outside where the gangsters had all returned to their original patrols.

The gate shut behind her, and Diana was alone again. From the Athens contract to this meeting, she was miffed. Surtr was toying with her. For every miniscule step he allowed her to make, all she had to gain was circumstantial information and new hunches. If anything, killing the Lambros family likely tied up their loose ends for them.

Diana made the walk back to the civilized part of London. She spotted a bus stop, which had only one other person seated, engrossed in the newspaper. Smiling, she sat a space away from him, opening a book in her lap.

This time, she was stepping ahead.

"Did you get in?" Diana asked.

"It was tough. She accounted for almost everything."

Diana smiled to herself. "Then she still has no idea where that path is... So. What did you find?"

"I found a computer with messages in the trash. I recovered them." He flipped to the next page. "The Russians aren't in Africa. They're in Nashville, Tennessee."

"Nashville," she parroted. It didn't take a genius to align the timing. "So I was right. Myung must have caught on—a lot quicker than I anticipated—and interfered with our search. We have to consider Soders' circle compromised."

"Mm."

Diana shut her book and rose. "I'll book us a flight. See you soon, 47." And she walked by him, disappearing down the street.

The bus arrived shortly after. Agent 47 vanished as well.