Another day, another hit request. Excellent. Sitting around headquarters was getting dreadfully boring.

Six was given very little information to go off of. A name, age, address, and photo. He had no idea why anyone wanted to kill her but it wasn't his job to care.

He briefly acknowledged the agent who delivered the request (more like yelled it up to him from the ground) and jumped down nimbly from the rafter he had been sitting on. After years of perfecting it, his landing didn't make a single sound.

His target's name was Claire Conway. She was twenty-two years old and lived alone in a suburb of Boston called Lexington. The DMV photo he had been given of her wasn't very flattering but at least he should be able to recognize her. She was blonde with hazel eyes and had a long pixie cut.

Sometimes Six was given a thick file on the person he was meant to kill. Other times he was given only a name. That could be a problem when there was more than one person with said name in an area.

Once another agent accidentally killed Harvey Whitlock Jr. instead of Harvey Whitlock Sr. but that was entirely the client's fault for not clarifying which one he wanted dead. How were they supposed to know anything that the clients didn't tell them?

It took Six a little over half an hour to make it to the address he had been given. Luckily for him, it didn't seem like anyone was home.

Breaking in took less than two minutes. Since the target lived alone, this should be an easy one. All he had to do was verify that she looked like her photo and then he could shoot. Making it look like a random robbery afterward would be child's play.

Unfortunately, the target didn't make an appearance for another hour. He was starting to get hungry and needed to go to the bathroom but it wasn't like he could do that here and potentially leave evidence behind.

Six started daydreaming about getting himself a cheeseburger and fries on the way back to headquarters after this. He should have eaten beforehand but he was so desperate to have something to do other than sit around watching all of the people at headquarters walk below that it had slipped his mind.

The sound of a key being inserted into a lock registered and Six tensed, readying himself to spring into action so he could get his cheeseburger. He did not expect what was behind that door.

"It's okay, baby," a cheerful female voice said. "We're home! I know you don't like being in the car but there's nothing to worry about."

A petite woman struggled to carry in what appeared to be some sort of plastic crate and set it on the ground with a relieved sigh. She shut the door, locking it behind her, before opening the crate and releasing what was inside. A black and white cat missing an eye and a leg walked out, meowing indignantly.

"I know, I know," the target replied as if she was having a conversation with the animal. "But hey, they gave you treats at the vet so I don't know what you're complaining about. You're fine; go take a nap or something."

The cat stalked off to do just that and Six scrutinized the target from his hiding place. That DMV photo really didn't do her justice. She wasn't smiling in it so it was impossible to tell she had dimples and her face wasn't as round as it appeared on camera.

Even though she looked better, this was undeniably Claire Conway. So why hadn't he killed her yet? He had been kind of surprised by the random appearance of a disabled cat but that was nothing worth stalling for.

All he had to do was pull the trigger and he could get out of here. He had done this a hundred times; why was he hesitating?

The target put the crate away and came back with a watering can, humming and talking to the variety of plants that were scattered around the kitchen and living room. She talked to her cat too…was this what happened when people lived alone for too long?

Six didn't know how long she had been living alone but this house was surprisingly large for one person. Judging by the dimensions from the outside, it was a three bedroom. And she lived here with a weird-looking cat and a bunch of houseplants.

He had never once been curious about the people he had been hired to kill. Why would he be? He was raised at headquarters and being emotionless was part of his training.

But none of his targets had ever been like this. Normally they were older, for one thing. And male. Sometimes the files he was given indicated that they were big shot businessmen or lawyers who had incriminating evidence against others (presumably the clients).

Why would anyone bother hiring someone to kill such an odd yet ordinary girl? Who exactly had she pissed off?

The target finished watering her plants, caressing their leaves as she went, and resumed half-humming, half-singing a song he vaguely recognized. He might have heard it playing out in public before since headquarters didn't have things like that.

She rummaged around in the pantry before producing a box of spaghetti and exclaiming "gotcha!" before reaching on tiptoe to get a pot out of a cupboard. She sang to herself as she waited for the water to boil and Six was beginning to question his sanity.

Why was he watching his target make herself food? His stomach growled. This was only making him hungrier. At least she didn't notice because she was singing too loudly. She appeared to be bouncing in place too like some sort of weird little dance.

This was so stupid. He should have killed her when she first came in.