The city was alive again, but for Ash, it might as well have been a graveyard.
Every flickering streetlight, every echo of a passing train, felt like a countdown.
He had the file.
He had the order.
And somewhere out there, Vernon was waiting.
Ash moved like a shadow through the rain-washed streets — the hood of his coat pulled low, gun holstered beneath his jacket, heart hammering beneath layers of silence.
He told himself it was just another mission.
But his body didn't believe him.
Every nerve screamed when he imagined Vernon's face. The memory of his lips. The way he'd whispered finish the mission as though he knew this would come.
Ash swallowed hard and kept walking.
The city's pulse shifted as he entered the abandoned district — rows of ruined buildings, rusted staircases, and shattered glass. The perfect hunting ground. The kind of place where ghosts came to disappear.
He scanned the rooftops.
No movement. No sound.
Then his earpiece crackled.
A familiar voice, smooth and cold.
"You're late, Agent."
Ash froze.
"Vernon," he whispered.
"I was wondering how long it would take before they sent you."
Ash turned slowly, his gun drawn. "You knew?"
"I always know," Vernon's voice replied, calm as smoke. "They gave you the order, didn't they?"
Ash clenched his jaw. "You think I'll do it?"
There was a pause — a soft, low chuckle that hit like static.
"I think you'll try."
A gunshot rang out.
The bullet missed Ash's head by inches, shattering the pipe behind him. He dove for cover, rolling behind a concrete pillar. His breath came in sharp bursts.
"Vernon!" he shouted. "Stop this!"
"You shouldn't have come."
Ash peeked over the edge — saw a flicker of motion on the upper platform. The glint of metal. The familiar black coat.
He fired back — one, two, three rounds — not to hit, but to remind Vernon he wasn't the only one trained to survive.
The shots echoed through the empty warehouse, sparks lighting the shadows.
Then silence.
Only rain.
And the sound of his own heartbeat.
Ash pressed his back against the wall, eyes shut. "I don't want to kill you."
From somewhere above, Vernon's voice drifted down — quieter now, rawer.
"Then you shouldn't have fallen in love with me."
The words hit harder than any bullet.
Ash froze. His throat tightened. "You knew?"
"Of course I did."
Ash stood slowly, his gun lowering. His voice cracked. "Then why didn't you stop me?"
There was a long pause. When Vernon spoke again, it was barely a whisper.
"Because I wanted to know what it felt like to be loved… before dying."
Lightning flashed through the shattered roof, illuminating Vernon standing on the catwalk — gun still raised, but his eyes soft, almost human.
Ash took a step forward.
Then another.
Their gazes locked through the smoke and falling rain.
"You're not dying," Ash said hoarsely.
"We both are," Vernon murmured. "Just at different speeds."
He turned his gun away — and fired at the ceiling. The old metal beams groaned, cracking loose.
Ash ran forward. "Vernon, no—!"
The structure gave way with a deafening roar. Steel and dust exploded around them.
Ash leapt, tackling Vernon to the ground just as the platform collapsed. They hit the floor hard, the impact stealing their breath.
For a long moment, there was nothing but silence — their bodies tangled, faces inches apart, eyes wide with shock.
Then Ash realized his hand was gripping Vernon's shirt, his knuckles white. "You idiot," he whispered. "You could've died."
Vernon smiled faintly, blood running down the side of his face. "You dove for me again."
Ash didn't answer. He couldn't. His body trembled with relief, rage, and something dangerously close to love.
Their faces were still close — too close. He could feel Vernon's breath against his lips, warm and uneven.
"Tell me," Ash murmured. "Was any of it real?"
Vernon looked at him for a long time — the kind of look that could unmake a man. Then he lifted a shaking hand and brushed his fingers across Ash's jaw.
"Everything," he said softly. "Everything except the ending."
Before Ash could reply, the sound of approaching footsteps filled the air — agents moving fast, weapons drawn.
They both froze.
The organization had found them.
Ash's pulse spiked. He turned to Vernon. "Run."
Vernon shook his head. "It's too late."
The door burst open. Flashlights swept across the room. Voices shouted commands.
Ash grabbed Vernon's hand and pulled him behind a fallen beam.
"Listen to me," he hissed. "We can still make it out."
But Vernon's eyes had gone distant — calculating. "If we run now, they'll chase us to the ends of the earth."
"Then we keep running," Ash said fiercely.
Vernon looked at him for one last, lingering heartbeat — and something broke in his expression.
He pressed a small chip into Ash's palm. "Take this. Everything you need to know is in here — about them, about me, about us."
Ash stared at it. "What—"
But Vernon was already standing, stepping out into the open with his hands raised.
"Don't!" Ash shouted.
The gunfire started before he could move.
Bullets tore through the air, sparks flashing in the dark.
Ash screamed his name — once, twice — but his voice was lost in the chaos. Ash pressed the chip to his chest, his vision blurring. The world around him was collapsing — sirens, shouting, rain — but all he could hear was the echo of Vernon's last words.