"Pff… A what? You? An assassin? Don't make me laugh!"
The young man with the ebony complexion couldn't hold back a slight smile. His dreadlocks swayed with the jerky movements of his head, as if emphasizing his amusement.
Anathel, on the other hand, didn't find it funny at all. He had once been a ruthless assassin, an efficient cog in the LOVE organization. Admittedly, in this new body, he looked far too young to be taken seriously.
"I don't joke around with amateurs like you…"
Anathel's gaze had darkened, tinged with boredom and exasperation, as he crossed his arms. More importantly, he had managed to steal his interlocutor's weapon without him even noticing.
"If there's a beginner here, it's you."
"What?!"
The dark-skinned man's smile, clad entirely in black, vanished instantly, replaced by a wary and serious expression.
"So, she hired you to kill me?"
'Who the hell is he talking about?' Anathel's thoughts remained vague, though the situation piqued his curiosity slightly. He decided to have some fun.
"Kill you? Ha! She wouldn't have enough money to hire me."
He instantly adopted a haughty tone, boasting with almost theatrical ease about his skills. The most ironic part was that, in a sense, it was true. Before this pseudo-reincarnation, or whatever it could be called, he had been one of LOVE's best assassins, even though he had been killed like a novice just minutes earlier by number one.
"Anyway… I'm not here to kill anyone today. I just want to get out of here."
His interlocutor, whose polished appearance betrayed a certain attention to detail, wore a slightly bored expression.
"If you say so…"
With a sharp motion, he pressed his left hand against Anathel's temple, who had closed his eyes, still boasting with almost childish glee. Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger of his weapon. But before the shot could go off, Anathel warned him, an enchanting smile on his lips.
"If I were you, I'd avoid pulling that trigger…"
"Or else what?"
"Go ahead, if you really want to know."
He didn't waste another second. Yet, the expected effect was entirely different: no gunshot rang out. Instead, a small explosion violently startled the ebony-skinned man, making him drop the weapon onto the corpses lying at their feet.
"Damn it!"
The weapon was damaged. But when? he wondered, incredulous.
"I told you. I'm a formidable assassin. You won't wound me by attacking like that…"
Before the barrel had even reached his temple, Anathel had already sabotaged the weapon in a split second, without anyone noticing. Clutching his slightly burned hand, the young man in black stared at Anathel with restrained rage but quickly calmed down.
"Very well… If you're an assassin, then I wish to hire you."
"Hire me?"
The proposition caught him off guard, and he couldn't suppress a small laugh.
"No, no, you didn't understand me. I used to take contracts. Now, I have my own goals."
"What kind of goals?"
"How is that any of your business?"
His tone suddenly became far more threatening, and Hayne felt it.
"Then let me offer you a deal…"
His right eye, an intense sapphire blue, plunged into the reddish-brown depths of Anathel's with fervent determination.
"Don't tell me…"
"You help me achieve my goal, and in return, I'll help you achieve yours. Whatever it takes."
The dark-skinned man's intentions were clear. Anathel knew that kind of look all too well: the look of someone with nothing left to lose, who desired only one thing—revenge.
After all, he had nothing to lose in this contract. Better still, he might gain a powerful ally, which would help him take another step toward his own goal: creating his own organization to destroy LOVE. But his plan was already well mapped out, and this man wasn't part of it.
"Sorry, my friend, but no. I don't think I can help you, and you can't help me either…"
Anathel moved toward the restroom exit. Before he could step through the door, the young man with the piercing blue eye called out:
"You can't get out."
"What?!"
"I mean… it's impossible to reach a lower or upper floor. I've been wandering around this floor for hours, even going up or down."
Anathel initially thought it was a trick to force him into accepting the deal. But as he moved forward, he sensed something strange in the atmosphere.
"There's something weird floating in the air…"
He advanced, scrutinizing the dark gray brick walls of the corridor, which flickered with occasional glimmers of light. As he walked down the hall, he noticed something chilling.
"Could he be right?"
The sound of his footsteps on the smooth floor echoed into the distance, never meeting any obstacle. He eventually found the stairs meant to lead to other floors. The other man followed closely behind him, a mocking shadow that seemed to revel in his expression. Anathel paid him little mind, only casting a fleeting glance before scratching the wall with his weapon to leave a mark.
He descended the dark stairs, illuminated in bursts by pale white bulbs. He went down for quite a while.
When he finally reached the bottom, before he could even check his marking on the wall, the dark, slightly haughty silhouette of Hayne, leaning against the opposite wall, provided his answer.
"So, do you believe me now?"
Unfortunately, there was no room left for doubt. Anathel was an analytical mind: stubbornly persisting against such a phenomenon would only trap them in a sterile loop.
"Yes… reluctantly."
He stepped forward, somewhat dejected, and leaned his back against the wall beside the other man. His short-sleeved black T-shirt subtly traced the contours of his lean, muscular frame.
"What's your name?"
He didn't look at him, his eyes fixed on the stairs.
The ebony-skinned man answered in a casual tone:
"Hayne…"
"How do you pronounce it? 'Haine' or 'Hiine'?"
"More like 'Hayne.'"
"Oh. And to whom do I have the honor?"
Anathel paused to think. 'I've been reborn, but in a way, I still look a lot like my old self. The appearance especially, even if my hair and eyes are different. Taking a new name would be a boon for anonymity and the element of surprise. And yet…'
He didn't want to run. Changing his name would feel like hiding, and besides, if LOVE truly wanted him dead, declaring openly that he was alive would surely draw more assassins from the organization to him.
He made his decision.
"Anathel… My name is Anathel."
He scratched his chin, still hoping it was the right choice.
"Anathel? That's a weird name…
— Do you want to die?!
— Not before I've accomplished my goal, at least."
Hayne's goal remained vague for Anathel, but he was certain that helping him in one way or another would allow him to escape this loop. And besides, deep down, despite his shortcomings, he might actually make a good ally.
He sized up Hayne, who was slightly more imposing than him. Though he stood at 1m85, Hayne towered over him by a few centimeters, reaching 1m89. As he studied him, he realized the gap wasn't that great, but he couldn't help feeling a slight discomfort. He sighed.