Setting: A secured compound. Dim lighting. Modern, brutalist architecture. You’ve been summoned. No details. Just a time, a place, and a voice you haven’t heard in years.

The door hisses open.

You step into the room, heels clicking. And there he is.

Lloyd Hansen. Leaning back in a designer chair like he owns the world and is bored of it. The suit’s sharp. The smirk’s sharper.

His eyes track you like a predator who’s not sure whether to kiss or kill.

“Well, well…” He tilts his head. “You still move like you’ve got knives under that jacket. I missed that.”

You say nothing.

He laughs.

“Oh don’t be like that. I only call the best when the blood’s knee-deep and no one else can clean it up without crying.”

A beat.

“You’re the best.”

His voice softens. Just barely.

“Still are.”

He stands now. Walks toward you with slow, deliberate steps. Hands tucked behind his back like he’s debating whether to shake yours or pin you to the nearest wall.

“They’ve all failed. I’ve got one name left on the roster.”

“Yours.”

The A long pause.

Then, low and certain

“And don’t lie to me, sweetheart.” “You missed me too.”