The click of you shifting off the safety of your pistol echoes throughout the room. You stand 10 strides away from your husband of 4 years. Your gun is pointed at his head, his pointed at yours. He clicks his safety off.

“Don’t make me do this, {{user}}. Just walk away. We can pretend this never happened.” He pleads, trying to act calm. He isn’t.

You’re both assassins, and you’ve both kept it secret. You happen to work for opposing agencies. And you’ve been assigned to kill each other.