Barbarians

I have lost the will to live

Simply nothing more to give

There is nothing more for me

Need the end to set me free

Things not what they used to be

Missing one inside of me

Deathly loss, this can't be real

I cannot stand this hell I feel

Emptiness is filling me

To the point of agony

Growing darkness, taking dawn

I was me, but now he's gone

Metallica- “Fade to Black"

The man sat on the bench, tearing off bits of bread and scattering them to the waiting creatures hovering nearby. The Tetrarchy had no pigeons or squirrels, those being relegated to the human worlds, but it had analogs that filled similar ecological niches. The small animals jostled one another, chittering and squeaking for attention as he tore off more bread, gobbling up the bits of food before the hit the ground. So intent were the animals on their meal they barely glanced at the woman that sat down on the bench beside him.

“...I wondered who they’d give the job to,” the man said, tearing off another hunk. “I suppose I should be grateful it’s a friend.”

Tango raised an eyebrow. “I’m not here to kill you, Whisper.”

He reached into his bag for another hunk of bread. “Yes you are,” he told her, “you just don’t know it yet.”

She watched as he scattered more food to the tiny creatures. “You’re a hard man to find. You went to a great deal of trouble to disappear.”

“Not great enough,” he said.

“I had a couple of advantages,” Tango explained. “And before you ask…Nassat didn’t tell me.”

Whisper nodded. “I didn’t think he had. He wasn’t in his right mind when he contracted me for the hit.” A snort sounded in the back of his throat. “But then...neither was I.” He tore off another piece of bread. “Fujimoto sent you, didn’t she?”

“She did,” Tango confirmed.

“I figured.” He sighed and set aside the bag. “I always knew she wasn’t quite done with me.”

“She plans ahead,” she agreed. Tango turned and leaned against the backrest. “I almost didn’t recognize you. If I hadn’t known what happened, I would have walked right past you and not stopped.” She gazed at her former teammate, eyeing him. “What does it feel like?”

“I doubt I could explain it to you,” Whisper replied, “not in a way that would make any sense.”

“Try me,” she insisted.

The creatures at their feet squawked in protest, demanding the remaining food. He handed Tango the bag. “Here...you might as well make yourself useful.”

She removed a hunk of bread and began shredding it. “Our good Field Marshal knew all about that last job,” he explained, “she had her own reasons for wanting Chugaz Uydan dead. She made a ship available, provided me with funds through an untraceable account, passed on any intel she came across...all under the table. Governments can’t be seen using assassins. Bad for the image.” Whisper gave her an unreadable look. “Especially ones like me.”

“And the Prime Minister?” Tango asked. “Was she in on it too?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I never dealt with her, only with Fujimoto. But if had to guess, I’d say she was at least aware. There was a certain...tacit approval, that I sensed. But if she knew, her hands are clean. She hasn’t stayed in power this long by making those kinds of mistakes.”

“Fair enough,” she nodded. “But you haven’t answered my question yet.”

“I’m getting there,” Whisper explained. “Fujimoto wanted proof when the job was done. Something that couldn’t be faked. She also wanted Nassat to think it had all been his idea.”

“Why?” Tango asked.

“I think she was nursing a grudge,” he said after a moment. “The Healers were regrowing her arm, and she was bitter about the loss of the ships under her command. Part of her blamed Nassat for that, I think.” Whisper shrugged. “Whatever the reason, she had her hooks set deep. When I got back from Khonhim space with the proof she’d wanted, she set up a meet. My final pay off.”

“Since when was money ever a motivation for you?” she asked.

“Never...but it’s nice to have,” he said with a wan smile.

“True,” she nodded. “And the proof?”

“Chugaz Uydan’s head, on ice,” he said matter-of-factly. “Hard to fake, that…though I had a little fun with it first.”

“I’ll bet,” Tango said. “You can spare me the details.”

Whisper nodded. “Once she inspected the head...and she did it without flinching, which I thought was impressive...she handed me a credit chip and walked away. That was the signal.” He shook his head in disgust. “I didn’t spot her team. Sloppy of me. They had me tranked and bundled up before I could lift a finger.”

“Why did she bother?” she asked. “No offense, but if Hélène was tying up loose ends...there are easier ways.”

“It’s like you said before, she plans ahead. I could still be useful...but running around without supervision was a potential problem for her. In that mental state, anyway. So instead, she had me...fixed.”

Tango nodded. “When she handed me the report…” She paused for a moment and shrugged. “I’d always assumed your...condition...was incurable.”

“For us humans, it was...but the old Triumvirate races knew a few tricks we didn't.” He was silent for a moment, staring off into the distance. “That’s not to say the procedure wasn’t invasive...or painless.”

“And now?” she prompted.

“You mean, now that I’ve had a conscience grafted onto my brain,” he said. “You know what I was like. You know what I did...well, you know some of what I did,” he corrected, after a moment’s thought. “Imagine for a moment committing those acts without so much as a twinge of guilt, because guilt was a word without meaning for me. Consequences?” Whisper barked out a laugh. “Bring it on. None of it mattered to me. Not the threat of prison, or torture, or even death. I simply didn’t care.”

“But now, you do,” Tango speculated.

“And now I do,” Whisper agreed. “And even worse...I remember. All of it. Every act, down to the last detail. Every sin I’m guilty of...and every drop of blood.” He turned and looked her in the eye. “Imagine the sheer weight of that. Imagine, for just a moment, carrying that burden. Every. Single. Day.”

She let out a breath. “...I don’t think I can,” she admitted.

He nodded. “I appreciate your honesty. You were always honest though...in the sense that you never tried to pretend you were something you weren’t. It was a trait we shared.”

“We did,” Tango agreed. “Musashi and Graybird were skilled, no argument...but we were the killers.” She considered that for a moment. “So…why didn't you...?"

"...end it?" Whisper sighed. "Because I can't. They made sure of that, too."

She nodded, taking that in. "So, can you suit up again? Is it even in you anymore?”

“Oh yes,” he said. “You see...they gave me a conscience but couldn’t quite take away the drive. The urge. I may not be as ‘Devil-may-care’ as I once was, but I still have the skills.” He paused, then whispered, “...and the need.”

Tango finished tearing up the last of the bread and tossed it to the animals, before standing up. “There’s a ticket waiting for you at the port. Just make sure you don’t go home.” She shrugged without apology. “We had a contingency plan, in case this didn't work out.”

Whisper didn’t seem surprised. “Always a pleasure, working with professionals.”

Tango nodded. “You know we’ll get bloody on this one, right?”

For the first time since she’d sat down, Whisper smiled.

“Oh…I hope so.”