3. Two assassins in one room

"I have no idea who you're talking about," the barman shrugs Elisa's question off for the seventh time this evening. Every single time she got the same answer.

There's a boy who's around my age that rents one of your rooms above the bar. who is he, she asked him every time. And he never gave her an answer that satisfied her.

I have no idea who you're talking about.

This is a lie, obviously. Elisa has seen the assassin. Has followed him here. She never saw him kill again because she left before she saw anything bloody. She knew that if she stayed, she'd imagine Mor.

It's been a week since Mor disappeared. A long week full of searches in the hope that Mor hadn't fallen victim to the boy.

The boy. He reminds her of herself. Actually, of what she would've become if she stayed at the commission. She doesn't know if he ever feels bad about killing, it isn't notable if he did.

After a year of having pretty much a normal life and being happy, because that she was; happy, she's forced to face the commission once again. The place she wished never to hear its name again. The place she wanted to forget.

She can't. She won't. And most certainly not now.

Elisa doesn't order another drink to persuade the bar owner to give her an answer. Instead she hops off the bar chair.

The man doesn't notice her. In fact, he hasn't the whole time only when she ordered drinks. She's fed up with him. So now her eyes stay on him while she walks calmly behind the bar to then disappear through the door to the private part of the bar.

Perhaps she could stay here until the bar owner returns. She might couldn't do anything in the bar so he would tell her the boy's name, but here she can make him.

But that'd be a waste of time. If the assassin is indeed one of the commission's, then he gave up a false name. Just like Elisa has been doing for a year. She has not heard the name Elisa on someone's lips for so long. It's almost something she misses. But it also reminds her of her assassin life, which she does want to forget.

Plus, she doesn't need the name of the assassin to face him.

The private space behind the bar is a tiny room. It concludes a single bed, a closet, a table and only one chair. It's rather sad, Elisa thinks. The man probably lives here, needing the money of the apartments' rent above.

Clothes are laying on the ground, and everything smells strongly. Elisa forces herself to look around closely, needing to find . . . something. The spare key.

Where does this man keep them?

With a sharp eye she turns around, now watching the door that she came through. A smirk comes on her face when spotting the key hanging on a rack on the door.

Easy, she thinks while taking the metal piece in her hand. It feels cold, making her shiver a little. But the first part is always easy. Now she must face the assassin. In his room.

The third room. The room that has a view over the street. The room that has a view that makes sure you see it when someone comes to you.

Good thing he isn't here. Not yet.

Elisa watched him leave, and only then did she enter the bar.

Now she's so close to meeting him. To asking him what he did with Mor.

Did she really die?

Did her blood really wash away on the street? Underneath Elisa's very feet maybe.

Is her Morgana really no longer?

Elisa shakes her head. Those thoughts need to leave. She needs to concentrate. She needs to be the assassin she never wanted to become. She will be the perfect assassin, but not underneath the handler. She will be her own boss. No more orders.

Without being noticed, Elisa sneaks out of the private space and to the hall that leads to the stairs.

She doesn't stop. She doesn't even slow down. In a quick pace, focussed on her mission, Elisa walks up the stairs.

When in front of the door of apartment number three, she realizes that she's been squeezing the key tightly. The palm of her hand is already becoming red when she takes the key in her other hand.

Her fingertips touch the wooden handle. This is where she'll await him.

"All right," Elisa mumbles to herself while she puts the key in the slot. "Time to let my other side out."

She does not mean her powers. She hasn't used them in years. They frighten her. After all, it's frightening for a girl to know that she can make everything explode around her. It's fearful to grow up knowing that you're a living bomb.

She means the side of her that's used to be bold and used to be getting whatever she wants. She only has to frighten people enough. That's what she's been trained.

You can get anything if you only scare people enough. That were the handler's words. She said much more, but she meant that the most. She wanted to get everything, the world even, through Elisa. When Elisa left, she had only the commission. Which isn't much, but it wasn't what the handler wanted. She wanted more. She'd think of another plan to get more, no doubt.

Now it's Elisa's time to take something she wants and not the handler.

It's time to work for herself. Only herself.

It's time to say goodbye to the sweet and innocent girl she wanted to be. It's time to go into a cruel and hard world.

The door opens quickly, revealing a tidy room. When seeing the owner's tiny and messy room, Elisa wouldn't have thought this to be one of the apartments he rents. It's white, very modern and there's no mess in sight.

She locks the door behind her, wanting a complete surprise for the boy.

Now it's time to wait.

Elisa lets herself fall down on the white seat next to the window. She leans back, gets comfortable, but is careful not to drift off in the dark apartment. It must be dark, otherwise the boy will know that someone entered his apartment. He wouldn't come back. Not soon at least.

It's evening, the boy will return soon. After a kill, Elisa suspects. How horrible it is. If she wasn't so afraid of getting taken back to the commission, then she'd find a way to stop him. She'd find a way to protect the people.

She might after getting clarity about Mor's disappearance. It's the least she can do.

Minutes pass.

An hour passes.

At one point Elisa was close to standing up and putting on the lights, but she succeeded in stopping herself from doing so. It would've been dumb and foolish. But the darkness keeps reminding her of the trainings she had to endure. She hates the déja vu.

A key gets turned in the lock.

The door opens.

Elisa forces her body to look as relaxed as possible. She needs to look completely unfazed by his presence.

The light gets puts on.

There he is.

The boy's eyes fall on Elisa.

He doesn't react shocked, probably trying to come over as unfazed, too. Two assassins in one room. A dangerous combination. Maybe even deadly.

"How did you get inside?" the boy asks, tilting his head out of curiosity. For the firs time Elisa gets a proper look at him. He has dark brown hair that's now dripping wet.

For a moment Elisa doubts whether to answer him. In the end, she does answer him.

"Through the door."

"No shit," the boy rolls his eyes, radiating a little annoyance. He's more than annoyed, Elisa knows that, but he's hiding it well.

"What's your name?" she asks him, curious to know it.

"What's yours?" he smirks a little before throwing off his backpack, and placing it on the table that's standing only a few steps away from the seat that Elisa is sitting in.

He turns his back on her. A huge mistake for every assassin. But it's only an act. He's a complete act. But so is Elisa.

"I'll tell mine if you give me yours," Elisa shrugs, leaning back even more in the comfortable seat.

The boy doesn't make an attempt to give his name, so Elisa doesn't either.

It's a strange situation. There's no anger or rivalry see-able, but there is. And there's a lot. They both know it.

"Why are you here?" the boy asks again while making himself a drink.

Elisa doesn't answer. She just watches him. The boy wears a white shirt with black pants. A weird choice for a murderer. It's all a part of his act.

"You entered the apartment I'm renting," he starts again. "I do expect some answers."

Now is the moment.

"You murder people, I do expect some answers."

For a fraction of a second, he seems taken aback, maybe even shocked. But he recovers himself quickly.

"You're accusing me of a serious crime," he grabs his drink in his right hand, puts his left in the pocket in his pants while walking towards the table.

Once next to it, he pulls a chair underneath it and turns it so he's facing Elisa who's still enjoying the comfortable seat.

"Well, I must say I committed a crime, too, by sneaking in your cosy apartment," Elisa keeps her eyes on him. "Let's go to the police, shall we?"

It stays quiet.

"But I do think that they will find your crime more interesting than mine," Elisa finishes.

"Let me ask my question again," he says. "Who are you?"

"A no one, really," Elisa says, telling him the truth.

She doesn't really exist.

Samantha Brown does not exist.

"Now you're making me very curious," He bows a little forward, opening his legs so that his glass can stand there.

"Aren't we all curious about something?"

"I suppose so," he nods, looking rather impressed that Elisa has been able to keep on her act the whole time already. He's expecting her to break. "Tell me, what are you curious about?"

Elisa knows that she should not answer. She knows. But she does anyways.

"I'm curious what you did with Morgana Davis," she puts her chin up, trying not to look as broken as she is inside. "The girl that disappeared a week ago. I know it was you."

"You're accusing me of her disappearance?"

"Indeed, and all the other disappearances." she tells him.

The boy takes a sip of the strong drink. It doesn't surprise her. Elisa has drunk a lot, too. She's been waisted an awfully lot, too.

His eyes stay on her, and hers stay on him.

They're taking each other's body language in. The boy won't find any sign of anxiety or fright when looking at Elisa. And she won't find anything when looking at him, too.

Both so trained well.

"I haven't gotten a clue what happened to all those people," he starts.

He does, Elisa knows he does. But she stays quiet and controls her every movement. Even her breathing is part of her own act.

"I'm very sorry for your loss," he continues. "I assume she was close to you."

She was. Maybe too close, Elisa also knows that. Opening your heart for people is the most dangerous thing to do. That's a lesson Elisa learned a very young age.

She wants to rise and break every bone in his body. She knows how to do that. She's been trained to do that.

But she stays in the seat, not showing the boy a sign of distress.

She puts her emotions off.

He expected her to rise. Maybe she did, too. The boy leans back in the chair, placing his arms on the back of the chair, careful not to spill his drink.

"I thought you'd let yourself act on whim. . . on feelings," he admits, not hiding his surprise. He tilts his head, stretching his neck. He does the same action again but then with his head to the other side.

"You thought wrong," If he only knew how close she was to actually doing so. He probably does. He's an assassin, after all.

"It appears I did," He smooths his white shirt.

"You don't know me," she shrugs.

For the first time since he entered the apartment, she allows herself to rise.

"But I do know you," she whispers in a dangerous voice.

She starts to walk, but not towards him. She turns her back on him, repeating what he did just a few minutes ago.

A thin smile gets placed on her lips while inspecting the apartment. It looks so standard. Especially with the flyers of a business party (that certainly wasn't meant for him) laying on the counter.

One would never know that a murderer stayed in here.

She turns around, facing him again. But she does not stop walking. She slowly moves her body towards the table behind him. His chair isn't against it, which is perfect for her to pause behind him.

Elisa knows her effect on both women and men.

"I know everything about you," she whispers, watching his neck tense. His whole body tenses, actually.

It surprises her. She didn't think he'd tense just by a whisper. The handier for her.

He let her on the playboard the moment he touched Morgana, and she's going to throw him off.

Elisa Brookle is going to win this dangerous game.