Pending Death

Rod:

"How do people even survive living in places like this? It's horrific."

Bill (teasing):

"You feel sorry for them now? That's rich coming from you, fake blond."

Jix:

"This is reality for the poorest of the poor. Multiple shelters are like this."

Rod (concerned):

"Still... be careful."

Jix:

"Don't worry. I grew up in places like this—I know what it's like. So you three can relax."

Bill (surprised):

"What? How—"

Jix (sharply):

"Now shut up and help me finish this mission. Nill, what's next?"

Nill:

"You head down to Quarter Four. That's where you'll find the door with his file."

Jix:

"Okay. Thanks. I'll have to cut the comms now."

Bill (admiring):

"She looks amazing in that dress."

Nill (amused):

"Comm hasn't cut yet, you know."

Now she had to finish alone. Just her mind—and her memories closing in. The closer she got, the louder her doubts became. Visions from the past came flooding back—over and over again—just like the faces of people she was seeing today.

And at the end of each vision, a single voice always echoed. The same voice. Always holding out its hand. This voice was hers—relentless, insidious, embedded in her like an unhealed wound.

She despised these places—not because they were dirty or dangerous, but because they reminded her who she was. What she had desperately tried to forget.

Doubt. Nothing but doubt. She no longer thought—why kill him. Never aloud, never among others. But inside...

As she walked toward her target, she suddenly bumped into a woman in her thirties. Beautiful—but worn by life. Her smile was enormous, set on a fractured face.

That woman was Cathie. Jix didn't know her—didn't even know her name. But for ten minutes, only one thought filled her mind: why didn't everyone deserve a smile like hers?

Cathie (gently):

"Please, ma'am... help me."

Jix (auto-polite):

"Pardon, ma'am, but..."

Cathie (pleading):

"I beg you. I won't ask for much. Help me save my husband."

Jix (coldly):

"Unfortunately, I have more important tasks ahead."

Cathie's immense smile vanished. All that remained was emptiness.

Cathie (defeated):

"More important than my husband's life? I understand. You're probably here for a soldier. Do your duty. But please—just give me some cotton and alcohol to dress his infection."

Jix:

"Infection? Explain."

Cathie:

"He took a bullet to the leg while gathering herbs for his pharmaceutical research. Since then, he hasn't awakened."

Jix:

"Impressive. Risking your life for weeds."

Cathie:

"He dreamed of becoming a pharmacist—finding cures for diseases. But war shattered that dream."

Jix:

"If I provide supplies—are you sure you can remove the bullet?"

Cathie (weak):

"I can't promise. But he's all I have left. He cannot die."

Jix:

"I've got three hours. I can spare time to help."

Cathie (relieved):

"Thank you. Thank you for not being like the rest. May God repay you."

Jix:

"God... after everything I've done, God has nothing to do with me anymore."

She knew what she was doing—the military taught her how to extract a bullet. But doing it well—and on time? That was another story.

Still, her hands shook. Removing a bullet from a stranger was easier than carrying that gaze. The gaze that still screamed in her memory.

She had one hour left after the operation.

Jix (afterwards):

"It's done."

She left immediately, without waiting for thanks. Headed for the door.

Cathie (calling out):

"Wait! My name is Cathie. And you?"

Jix (pausing slightly):

"Jix. My name is Jix."

That day, in one person's memory, Jix became a savior—not a killer. And for the first time in five years... she felt human.

Jix (to herself):

"I'm ahead of schedule. I'll make it. Just see him as an enemy. A simple enemy."

Then—

A massive sound. A building exploded. It was the building where her target was.

Two minutes later, every screen and device lit up with the same message:

Message to the People:

"I know you're suffering. None of you want this war. War is an abomination. And yet, it is used despite us all.

No one wants death, blood, sadness. But our voices don't count.

I don't care who's right or wrong. War brings nothing. I bear its scars.

If governments can't agree, let them fight in a ring—alone. Stop sacrificing lives for their problems.

I am the voice of the people. I will end this war. Join me. Together, we will change history.

We will be the Saviors of the Modern World.

I am Peace."

Masked, but unmistakable. Jix had her suspicions about the person behind it.

And she felt... relief. Relief she didn't have to choose.

Near the fiery debris of the explosion, the connection returned.

Rod (angry):

"Where the hell were you? He got away, Jix!"

Jix (calmly):

"Oh, you reconnected, I see."

Nill:

"What the hell were you doing this whole time?"

Jix:

"Nothing."

Rod (frustrated):

"Nothing? That's your answer?"

Bill:

"Now we're never catching him."

Nill:

"That's not like you, Jix. You just fucked up a critical mission. You're supposed to be our leader, damn it!"

Jix:

"I was busy. Didn't expect him to escape that fast."

Nikki (worried):

"Be serious, Jix. Are you kidding? We're worried. Don't tell me..."

In the chaos, one voice cut through—calm. Terrifying.

Not in her earpiece.

It came from behind her.

Jix froze. It wasn't heat sweating her—it was him.

A drop of sweat traced her temple. In that moment, the past** crashed back. This wasn't just a confrontation. It was a return to a never-healed hell.**

Jix (softly):

"I'll leave you now."

Nill (confused):

"You're fucking—"

Too late. She couldn't speak.

Voice (deliberate):

"Hello, Jix."

Jix (voice breaking):

"No... Not you. What are you doing here, Ryan?"

Ryan:

"Pleasure to see you again. Five years, right? If I remember correctly."

Jix:

"So... you found me."

Ryan:

"Did you really think you could run forever?"

Jix:

"Is Jack sending you?"

Ryan (smirking):

"Let's just say my father isn't entirely innocent in my arriving."

To be continued...Burdened...