Held Accountable

The next day, I found the time to write, a small escape from my stressor.

Spent a couple of hours there, draughting nonsense into my notebook.

But when the words started blurring together and the exhaustion settled into my bones, I decided that it was time to go home.

Upon reaching my apartment, completely oblivious to my surrounding, I stepped inside and noticed that the lights were on.

The scent of fresh coffee lingered in the air.

Spectre. 

I work my way towards the kitchen, and she was already there, standing by the window, fingers loosely curled around her mug.

She took a slow sip before finally acknowledging me, violet eyes flicking toward mine.

"You're finally home."

Scanning my surroundings; there was nothing out of place except her.

She points her mug towards the counter, "There's a cup for you."

I settled my things down on the table and grabbed the mug.

Why is she here? 

This isn't normal.

"Did you—break in just to steal my coffee?" I muttered.

She takes another sip. "Relax. Have a drink."

I sighed, grabbed the mug and took a sip.

The coffee was smooth, perfectly blended, almost too good.

Then—the shift.

A slow, creeping weight in my limbs. A dull hum at the edges of my vision

"You might have noticed by now that there's something wrong with the coffee."

"What did you—"

Spectre only smirked.

"Don't fight it. It'll be easier that way."

The room tilted, the lights stretching into blurred halos.

My pulse pounded sluggishly, slower than it should be.

My grip on the cup slipped, ceramic shattering against the floor.

Then I followed, landing harshly on the floor, barely holding on to consciousness.

Spectre was just standing there.

"Sleep, Ren."

Then Darkness rushed in.

...

I woke up to silence.

Dark room, one table, isolation.

Cuffed. Tied.

I was here again.

Though I don't think it would be on good terms this time.

Then, Spectre steps into view, her eyes locking onto mine, her expression showing dissatisfaction.

"Ren Takahashi, did you actually think that you could withhold information from us and get away with it?"

She threw a folder onto the table; its contents scattered along the table.

Inside there were documents, photographs and transcripts of hidden conversations between Raines and my relative.

My heart sank.

"We already had enough evidence, Ren."

"I-I can explain."

She sighed and pulled out an envelope from her pocket.

She opened it; she laid down the contents on the table silently."

Photographs.... of my family.

These weren't captured by surveillance cameras... No, they were captured by hand.

Hiding among the crowd, they observed each one of them...

She pointed to one of the photographs.

"Your father arrives at eight, leaves at six, works overtime on Thursdays and always parks in the same spot."

She grabbed another.

"Your mother," she continued. "Gets coffee every morning at that corner café. Always orders the same thing—hazelnut, no sugar."

"And lastly," she picks up the last photograph, "Your little brother, he likes to take the long way home from school, right?"

"Walks through the side streets near the convenience store, usually around 4:15 p.m."

"You wouldn’t—"

She laughed softly—not kind, not amused.

"That’s adorable," she murmured, moving closer. "You think this is still a negotiation?"

"You made a choice, Ren; you voluntarily left out vital information.

She gets closer, "We don't tolerate that."

Then—she pulled out her gun.

and points it directly at me

"You know, I had high hopes for you... but you shattered it."

She sighed, "I should've done this a long time ago."

My chest tightened.

Is this it? There's no escape; she made up her mind already.

"Wait!" I shouted, "Let me explain!"

Her eyes widened. "Five seconds, Ren."

I inhaled sharply, my pulse hammering against my ribs.

"I—I thought it wasn’t relevant."

"Five."

"It wasn’t—it wasn’t part of the report; it didn’t—"

"Four."

"They aren’t involved—I swear, I swear I wasn’t hiding anything—"

"Three."

My breath hitched, my words breaking apart, stumbling over each other in the rush to make this moment stop.

"I thought if I kept them out of it, they’d be safe; I thought—"

"Two."

Spectre’s violet eyes didn’t waver.

She wasn’t listening.

She was waiting for me to break.

I tried to force coherence into my explanation, but time was moving too fast.

"One."

"I thought—"

Then—her phone rang.

She slowly grabbed her phone, while her eyes were still locked onto me.

"This better be important."

As the call went on, I could see her mood slightly changing.

"I'm kind of in the middle of something."

Then—

She holstered her gun.

Organised the photographs and documents scattered onto the table.

She smirked, "Lucky you; it seems like fate has other plans."

I swallowed, barely understanding what had just happened.

She adjusted her coat. "I have an extraction mission. And you’re coming with me."

Without even getting time to process what just happened, she undid the ties and the cuff. "Follow me," she said as she led me towards the door.

The hallway was dim, lined with reinforced walls.

I swallowed hard, my pulse still uneven, my thoughts still catching up.

I forced myself to move faster, trying to match her stride.

Was she actually planning to pull the trigger?

We stepped through the final checkpoint, heading toward a sleek black sedan parked just outside the loading zone.

"Sit behind and stay quiet when the VIP arrives."

Spectre opened the car door, sliding inside without hesitation.

Then we rode off.

During the drive, I couldn’t help but ask Spectre, "Were you actually about to kill me?"

"What do you think?"

I let out a breath.

"I think if your phone hadn’t rung, I wouldn’t be here right now."

Spectre smirked—just slightly—but it wasn’t amusement.

"Protocol states that an escort mission requires at least two operatives."

"And lucky for you I don't have a partner." She finally looked at me. "So whether you like it or not, you're coming with me."

I let out a slow breath, "Are you still going to kill me after this mission?"

She laughs, "Depends on the outcome."