The semi in her hands was a Declaimer 9970, one of the Marel brand. Favor hefted the gun, her eyes sharp and watching for movement as she opened doors slowly and carefully, searching in the rooms one at a time. She was looking for a specific set of documents that would help her client—more specifically, she was looking for a set of forged identities.
Disappointment in the next few rooms, as usual. She was impressed. They didn’t use any of the usual hiding spots—but she’d done her research. She knew this man, and she knew where he kept everything important.
The man in question was in the next room, the study. He turned, looking terrified. Without blinking, Favor shot him once in the forehead. She stepped over his body and began to rifle through the papers in the desk when a quiet voice echoed into the room, “Daddy?”
Oh no. Oh, fuck no. A child. Elle hid her gun and closed her eyes, counted to two, and then turned around. A little boy clung to the door, holding a blue blanket that trailed on the floor and he was wearing footie pajamas. His eyes were wide and he looked up at Elle.
She placed a finger over her mouth and then crouched so that she was on eye level with the boy. “What’s your name?” she asked quietly.
“Davey,” the little boy said. “Why is my daddy on the floor?”
“He’s sleeping, Davey,” Elle said with a kind smile. “Don’t wake him.”
Elle flipped the question back on the little boy. He couldn’t have been more than five years old. “Where’s your mum?”
Davey shook his head. “I don’t have a mum.”
Good. Best for him to get used to disappointment early. This way, he would be provided for and he would actually have a degree of freedom. “Go back to bed, Davey,” Elle said quietly. “I’m sure you have school in the morning.”
The little boy nodded solemnly, and Elle took him back to bed, tucked him in, and turned off the lights. Maybe that kid would grow up to be something. Better than his now-dead father, anyway.
Something tugged at her. Where the man had been looking. Not at her, terrified. To her. From Davey.
She tapped her metalminds and found the documents within one minute. Favor was fucking furious. With the last of her strength, she finished the mission and made the dropoff.
Then she started storing. She could feel her mind deadening, and then thoughts were like reaching for something one foot away in air made of molasses. It was so difficult to think, but then, that was the point. If she couldn’t think quickly, she didn’t have to think about the little boy and his father. She didn’t have to think about that parental protective instinct. She didn’t have to think about what she had done.
She didn’t get to ask herself why the fuck she cared.
