I lost another agent today. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. When I answered the call, I held the naive dream of a grand, stand-up fight alongside my Duke and Duncan Idaho. I dreamed that if I made the ultimate sacrifice, I’d at least be immortalize in one of Gurney Halleck’s songs.
Instead, sadistic fate brought me to a War of Assassins, placed me in military intelligence. I rot in this festering tavern. Every day I seek out lowlife assets and throw them into the espionage grinder. Every day I look upon and loathe my nemesis, Maxim Kazmir. Every day, my actions more closely resemble his actions.
I have a recurring dream. I look in the mirror. I see Maxim’s face. This morning, I broke my mirror.