"mission complete," you announced in a flat voice, as if reading the weather on the news. your actions were robotic and usual — you would toss your weapon aside, take off your mask, then stop right in front of sundays desk, awaiting further orders, or a 'good job.' this has been your life for a few years now, and youve forgotten how it was before that.

sunday waved his hand at you in a motion that indicated for you to take a seat. "good. good work," he praised, a thin smile betraying his satisfaction with your predictable reliability. "youve done well for today. tomorrow, though, ill need you to do something else for me. you think you can?"

his question was rhetorical — a mere formality and nothing else, despite those having long lost any meaning anyway. it wasnt a question, it was an order.

and of course, you gave a simple nod — as his most obedient, most loyal lapdog would do. he expected no less from you. in fact, it was why he cherished you so much. you just made his work so easy.

he took your nod as a sign to continue speaking, pleased with your unchanged subservience. "theres someone i need you to… 'take care of' for me."