The building was two stories tall, simple, chalk-white, and clean. Its roof was made of reddish-tile, and its windows were tinted sea blue in the glare of the sun. It sat on the crest of a hill, overlooking a calmer part of the outskirts of the city, away from prying eyes and the sound of traffic. From the heavy Iron Gate halfway down the hill, the driveway crept upwards. Lion-faced statues dotted the sidelines, paws raised in maiming taunt/greeting. As one neared the front of the building, a reflecting pool was visible, surrounded by carefully-cut trees. Miniature bonsai bowed in meditation. At the driveway’s end, bushes cut a defined curve around the bowl of the driveway’s cul-de-sac. A guest house broke off to the left of the house, the reflecting pool and gardens to the right. Around the back of the house, a pool sat. The reflecting pool was for reflection. This pool was for parties! Two women lay spread out on reclined chairs, bathing topless in the heat of the sun.

Lenna approached the villa from the front. She wore a black business suit, cut from professional cloth. Her shadow played out behind her as she made her way up the drive. Two guards stood stiffly ahead of her, guns in-hand. They didn’t shift their aim away from Lenna, even as she approached.

“Cortez’s summer home was far more welcoming when you people didn’t point those at me…” Lenna muttered to no one in particular. The guards didn’t give a single clue that they’d heard her. They were unflappable professionals, and to them, today was like any other. Goal: Guard a building. Primary Objective: Kill unauthorized visitors on sight. If possible, get their names first and give them warning. But again, that last part was more of an addendum to the first. Secondary, really. Lenna knew she was no exception. She walked across the royal red carpet of the entrance towards Cortez’s office.

24 hours had passed since her conversation with Slate. Cortez had received her information gladly, arranged a flight over on his private jet, and had even had time to play a game of beach volleyball with a few of his favorite women soldiers in the spare time before they were to meet. Lenna was a bit early for their discussion. She’d felt it better to be punctual and privy to information than stylishly late, and dead.

"I'm here," Lenna stated as she entered the office. Cortez looked up from a hard-covered book he was reading and gave her a cursory glance.

"Indeed."

A bodyguard stood on either side of Cortez's mahogany desk, arms crossed. The bodyguard on the right wore a white business shirt and khaki Cargo shorts. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up all the way to his elbows, revealing two black exhaust holes at either joint. Another pair were visible on each of his calves. The skin around the ports was rough, ragged, and cracked from exposure to heat. The ankle joints on his feet were charred to a similar extent, visible behind the straps of his yellow and lime beach sandals. This man was a mutant. That was obvious. The shock of red hair and the exhaust ports gave that away. He gave Lenna a perfunctory nod of recognition. Lenna averted her eyes.

“You wanted to see me?” Lenna asked. Cortez’s book snapped shut. He glanced at her calmly, voice low and hedging tacit impatience.

“Yes. I wanted to thank you for your work. You did a good job.”

The bodyguard on the left clasped his hands in front of his body. This one was dressed far more professionally than the one in sandals. Everything about him was straight. His tie, his collar, his jawline... his eyes. His face was kinda like a Picasso painting, actually. Lenna’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“A bit early to be thanking me for that. We don’t know yet if he’ll show. I’d think you’d wait until the very end to express thanks…” The corners of her cheeks tinged inwards acerbically. “Right before you set me free.”

“Right,” Cortez replied far-too hastily. “But some of my followers have told me I’ve been a bit snappy as-of late. Catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, you know? So thank you. For everything.”

“… fine” He wasn't welcome. Lenna's tone shifted to one of mild curiosity. "I don't suppose this 'application of honey' method applies to pertinent information... you've still told me nothing of your reasons for your interest in Slate. If you plan to kill him, I'd like to know why I sent a man to his death."

Cortez smiled weakly in appeasement. He almost looked hurt. "Lenna, my dear. I don't plan to kill him. I'm merely interested in his efforts to rebuild Columbia. That's all. He's building schools on Columbian soil. You know as well as I do that while I value profit and being on top, I'm still human. We did take you in when you were young, and teach you everything you know, didn't we?" He made a sweeping gesture with his right hand, as if to say 'see?' Lenna didn't say anything. She felt a bit sick of talking to him, to be quite honest. Cortez continued lying blindly. "And so you see, I'm just doing what I feel I must for Columbia. If this man wants to build schools and promote Her well being, who am I to stand in the way? Really? What good would come of me killing a man bringing good business to my contractors and education to the children of Bogota?"

"None," Lenna muttered listlessly, glancing away from his stupid smile.

"Exactly! And so you see... what I told you to tell him, about my interest in giving him aid? I did not lie."

Lenna once again stowed comments. That would have been a first. Cortez frowned, sensing her apprehension.

"Is... something the matter, dear? If you need to sit down...—" He took a step towards her, and brought his hand up to her forehead, as if checking for a fever.

"I'm fine!" Lenna snapped, taking a step back. The look in her eye held nothing back. “I’m satisfied with your answer. If there’s nothing else—” She’d take her leave. The woman turned, towards the door. A tutting voice from behind cut her short.

"What?" Lenna's glance cut over her shoulder, eyes tracing the thin line of his neck. Cortez wore a serious tone, eyes denoting a more-sincere message.

"I wanted to apologize for sending someone to kill you. I had no right. It is regrettable it had to end the way it did..." The bodyguard on his right shifted uncomfortably as the man spoke. As Cortez finished, the red-head broke shoulder alignment with the 'all-too-straight' guard.

"I'm taking a break," he muttered, and jabbed a thumb towards the door behind Lenna. Picasso-eyes narrowed. Cortez nodded his approval.

"Certainly. We were just about through..."

Lenna grit her teeth and said nothing. As far as she was concerned, it was too late for apologies. Still, he was making an effort. An obvious one. What did he want...?

She didn't glance at the redheaded man as he stalked past her right shoulder. His eyes trailed dangerously across her as he walked. Her chin tilted upwards, and she closed her eyes, ignoring him. "I agree, it was an unforeseen tragedy. You lost a good soldier." It would be best to honor at least that much, wouldn't it Cortez? He said nothing to the effect. He merely nodded halfheartedly and turned towards his desk, hands clasped behind his back. Hmph. It seemed the conversation was finally at a wrap. "If that's all, I'll take my leave. You have my contact information and know the location we're to meet tomorrow. Once that's through, I expect—” She gave a cursory tap to the back of her neck. The exact location of the chip.“This to be removed, and our contract to be fulfilled. Good day." She walked out the way she'd come in without another thought.

~*~

"You do realize he's interested in having you work for him in the future, don't you?" A voice on her right asked. The redhead from before leaned against the wall cooly, arms crossed. Lenna kept walking. He pushed off the wall and matched her pace. "Come on! It's obvious. The way he's apologizing, buttering you up... Lenna, honey. He's eying your future like a hotcake. They serve hotcakes with honey! No wonder he talked sweet."

Lenna upped the clip on her pace. She didn't want to acknowledge his comments. They all seemed too logical. "Cortez has given me his word he'll set me free." She replied icily.

"And how good has his word been in the past? It's garbage. Lenna, you—" Her eyes narrowed. She spun to face him, eyes aflame.

"What choice do I have, Johnathon!? He has my body in a vice! All I can do right now is hope for the best and fulfill the terms of our contract. Do you really think I'd be that naive? I know I can't trust him!! I just..." Her face broke. She looked to the carpet. On her face, the redhead saw the lines of Lenna's worry. She actually looked human... "I just want to hope for the best here... heh. Hope." She looked off. Her lips pursed in what almost looked like a smile. Something knotted in the redhead's stomach. Was she crying, or laughing? "I can't believe I actually said that. See how far I've slipped? Heh." She shook her head. It was a stupid concept, hope. A ray of light in an idealistic world. Hope was what children dreamed of on their breaks during training. They ran from reality and tried the roles of other workers, other worlds. In the end when they came home at night, they were stuck with the truth. She smiled at John weakly. He could tell the bullets loading that smile were ice cold. "That kid, Slate? He has hope. Hopes his little school will do something for Columbia, but in the end, it probably won't. I'll lead him to Cortez, and Cortez will do what Cortez chooses to do. Something will happen, and...— there’s no room for hope in my work, is there Johnathon?” Her voice cracked as she choked back a tear.

The man looked at her and his heart fell. His eyes rose to the thick double doors down the hallway blocking them from Cortez. This place was probably bugged from top to bottom, with closed circuit cameras to baby-feed this whole scene straight to his desk. He was probably laughing right now. Probably didn’t care what happened here, so long as it got results. John put a comforting hand on Lenna’s shoulder. “Hope is what we have to have in this job to stay sane, Lenna. It might not be faith in humanity or hope for a shiny future of redemption... or whatever the hell... but at the very least, we can have hope for ourselves. Lenna, I--" He pulled her forward into a kiss. Deep, gentle, warm.

She tilted her head away from him and broke the lock. "That was over a long time ago, Johnathon. You may want to quash your hope there..." Her hand rose to wipe a teardrop from the corner of one eye. "I should go. Cortez may be listening in, and I... you take care of yourself, Johnathon. I'll do my best to take care of me..."

"You used to call me John..." He muttered as Lenna took the first step away. She stopped, didn't look back at him. Her lips drew a tight line.

"We used to call each other a lot of things..." She continued walking, out the door. It swung shut behind her.

Johnathon's fist connected with the wall. Steam rose from his elbows. This wasn't over. Not by a long shot.