Alex's Point of View
Alex looked down at his girlfriend's sleeping form. Her sweet face seemed relaxed, younger, at peace. Alice always slept best after a kill. It was like there was a poison inside her that would gradually build up. Taking down a target drained that poison right out of her.
Kills were infrequent enough that he didn't go mad with jealousy, once a month at most, but sometimes tracking down a particularly elusive victim could take longer. He always noticed; if Alice went too long without her medicine she'd start looking haggard and careworn. Things she used to enjoy would lose their charm. Her appetite would go first, then he'd notice she wasn't listening to her music or paying attention when they watched Netflix together. Finally, her sleep would suffer. She'd toss, turn, and wake frequently. Above all, the nightmares would come back.
These were intense nightmares, very real. Alice would jolt awake, disoriented, carrying the terror of her tormentors back from the dream world. Soothing her back to sleep could take hours, not tonight, though.
Tonight had been perfect. Their first coupling had been a catharsis, a plea for forgiveness, a renewal of their bond. It was their ritual. Afterwards they ate pizza and watched Netflix. Then they made love again, this time sweeter, with no guilt, no urgency, just being together like usual. They'd be normal for awhile. Alex planned to savor it while it lasted.
Alice's eyes snapped open and Alex felt her hand on his throat.
"It's just me, baby," he said kindly. "You're here. You're safe." Sometimes her assassin instincts were just a little too sensitive.
Her intense blue eyes softened. The hand at his neck rose and cupped his cheek. "I know," she rasped, still half-asleep. "Hold me."
Easing her into his arms, Alex kissed the top of his girlfriend's head and they drifted off together.
The next day they ate breakfast and went to work: Alex to Lockhole-Merlin's Arlington office, Alice back to the district to resume her hunt for the guy who was blackmailing a senator.
Being an engineer at Lockhole-Merlin had certain advantages, among them the fact that he quite literally couldn't take his work home with him. Everything had to be done in the office on a secure network. The code monkeys in Silicon Valley might get paid more but Alex's work/life balance couldn't be beat. His commute was pretty short, too.
Alex was a guidance, navigation, and control systems engineer, a fancy title that meant his job was all about making bombs and missiles hit what they were supposed to hit.
Today was the day he started working on ANIS, or Aero-Naval-Intelligent-Strike. The Marines needed a new missile platform for detecting and engaging a large number of ships and planes in a littoral, intense electronic warfare environment. It went without saying, but the intended theater of war was the South China Sea and presumed enemy the Chinese PLA Navy.
In the new littoral regiment configuration, infantry Marines would seize small islands, allowing the attached artillery battalion to deploy ANIS. Each island would then become a node in a network-centric warfare "kill web", integrating seamlessly with other assets in theater. The whole concept was ultimately based on the Guadalcanal Campaign in World War Two, where the Marines held an island foothold, allowing planes based at the local airfield to harass Japanese operations.
Did Alex seem interested? Because he was!
Of course, the big hurdle was the "I" in ANIS. Even though he preferred hardware to software, Alex had somehow found himself working on AI.
Just my luck, but at least I'm writing code that runs on missiles and not some chatbot that flirts with people. That's way cooler, right?
He already had a plan. First he needed a spatial reasoning model, then they'd start testing it in simulation and accumulating data.
Alex wasn't at his desk for more than fifteen minutes when Charles "Chip" Lackland interrupted him.
"Got anything for me, buddy?" he asked.
Chip Lackland was the natural enemy of every engineer: the non-technical manager. What made it worse was they knew each other and had to pretend to be friendly.
"We just started today, Chip," Alex explained. "We're in the phase where we're still building the machines that make the machines. It'll be a little while."
"Come on man, move fast and break things! This is an agile software company!"
Chip definitely didn't know what "agile software" meant, but Alex had to pick his battles.
"I'll have some training data by the end of the week," Alex promised, hoping that would placate Chip. Even that was going to be a stretch. He wondered if he could use some video game development tools to speed up the process. Open source, maybe? No way would the company spring for a license.
"Not good enough, Devil," Chip talked to him like they were old battle buddies. As far as Alex knew, Chip had never been in the military. The guy washed out of a finance internship after barely graduating from Haverford, spent a few years "traveling", and gotten a job at Lockhole thanks to his senator father.
"What do you mean, 'not good enough', Chip? This is going to involve a lot of 'close to the metal' programming, very intricate work you can't rush."
"Hey man, if they've got AI that can write essays, draw pictures, why can't you make an AI for bombs? It should be easy!"
"It's not the same at all!" Alex replied with more heat in his voice than he intended. "Those AIs are full of errors, outright hallucinations, and false data. We're dealing with calculations where being slightly off means the missile is miles away from where it's supposed to be! We need a missile that can tell if it's being jammed! A missile that can separate fake signals from real ones! It has to be right, every time, and that will take time! A weapon that doesn't hit what you aim at is a shit weapon, Chip. Lockhole-Merlin doesn't make shit weapons."
"Yeah, yeah," Chip clearly wasn't listening. "The higher ups are breathing down my neck, and they need results soon. It's an election year, the polls are close, and that defense appropriations bill is stuck in committee. If you don't want this whole project shut down, including our jobs, then we need something to show the politicians ASAP!"
Fuck, that actually made a lot of sense, as much as it hurt Alex to admit. They depended on government contracts and the political uncertainty now that Clayton's second term was coming to an end made everyone nervous. Maybe he'd have to start working late, even weekends.
"I'll get on it, Chip," he said resignedly.
Chip put his hand on Alex's shoulder and Alex had to consciously keep himself from shrugging it off. "I'm sure you'll pull it off. You're smart."
"Oh," Chip grinned cockily. "And tell Alice I said hi."
Stay away from her!
***
Alice's Point of View
Alice's employer was "The Corps", not the Marine Corps, or the Peace Corps, just "The Corps". She'd spent most of her life under the thumb of someone else, but the Corps was a kinder master than most. They let her stay with Alex, at least. Or maybe they thought she'd be too unstable to work without him. Maybe they were right.
She pulled into the parking lot of a day spa. The receptionist ignored her as she walked past and made her way to the back. Smells of shampoo and a dozen kinds of skin cream assaulted her nostrils.
Why does headquarters need to be in a place like this? Are there not enough unmarked office buildings in Washington?
"Ah, dear Alice, come in! Come in!" greeted her handler brightly.
Ugh, Dahlia is never not in a good mood.
Her handler, codename: Dahlia, was an attractive middle-aged woman with black hair, glasses, and great fashion sense. Alice had dated a few women in college, so she somewhat knew what she was talking about. Was she still a little bit gay? Well, these days she was an Alex-sexual, but all the same, Dahlia's aesthetic appeal couldn't be denied.
"Good morning, boss," Alice tried to sound professional.
Dahlia reached across the desk and took her hand. Alice only flinched slightly at the unexpected contact. "Come now, Alice, we've been working together for a while! Talk to me! Is Alex well?"
Careful not to jerk abruptly, Alice slowly withdrew her hand, trying to seem casual. "He's fine, Dahlia, new project at work, kind of a big deal." She tried to keep it vague.
"That's wonderful, Alice! Br-," Dahlia cut herself off. "My husband and I had a date night last night. We dropped the kids off with his mother and had a wonderful time. My oldest will be in college soon, you know! We've been talking about having just one more. We're getting older, but it might be possible!"
That was the thing about Dahlia, she positively bled "mominance" or "mom dominance." She was the most attractive, best-dressed mom in the PTA, with the pinterest-perfect house, the loving husband, and children with accomplishments she could brag about endlessly. In short, most other women hated her. Jealousy was a bitch. Alice didn't blame Dahlia for wanting to be friendly with her, but they had a job to do.
"Another dry hole last night," she reported.
Dahlia's body language tightened up and she arched an eyebrow. "Is that all?"
Her handler's silent pressure was no joke. "No, that's not all," Alice said softly, still feeling a little guilty about letting the dead man kiss her. "I took a target of opportunity."
"That 'target of opportunity' was a lobbyist for your boyfriend's company, Alice!" Dahlia scolded.
Fuck! She really hoped she hadn't caused Alex more trouble. "Can you do anything?" she pleaded.
"The Corps has influence," Dahlia said vaguely, "but you must be more discerning in the future. I know you're frustrated, but unsanctioned hunting causes problems for all of us. You need to curb your urges."
It was the same old refrain. Alice tried! She really did! But it was the only way she could protect Alex! She had to get it out of her system somehow! The guilt ate at her every day.
Alice looked down in shame. "I'm sorry."
Dahlia reached out again. "I know, dear, I know. The 'black widow' thing is your way of coping. You've been through a lot. Just think about Alex. Don't you want to be a better girlfriend for him? Don't you want to stop hurting him?"
That's a low blow, Dahlia. "Yes, okay! I hate it! I'm a monster! A cheating whore! I don't deserve him. He's so good to me and I keep doing this. It's so hard," the last part came out as a choked sob.
Dahlia rushed around her desk and hugged Alice. "I know, sweetheart. It's a process; you'll get there someday."
Alice wanted to believe her. She enjoyed the warmth of the hug and gradually calmed down. "So, Connor Oswald?"
Her handler stopped being the caring mother and went back to professional mode. "We failed you there, and for that I'm sorry. It turns out the senator was lying to us."
"Lying?" Alice asked. "Lying, how?"
"The official story, the one he initially told us, was that Connor Oswald was sleeping with Senator Lackland's wife and blackmailing them. That turned out to be false."
Alice perked up in interest. "So if that was false, what's the truth?"
"Connor Oswald is sleeping with Senator Lackland himself," Dahlia said simply.
Oh, that explains a lot. I wouldn't have been able to seduce him even if we ran into each other.
"Then what can I do?" Alice asked. "The honey trap is my thing. A gay guy wouldn't fall for it, unless he's bi?"
Dahlia shook her head. "He is not. We're going to have to bring in somebody else."
Well, that was a month wasted, Alice lamented. "So am I getting a new target? I'm not sure what I can contribute here."
Dahlia smiled evilly, a smile so evil it reminded Alice that she was talking to a master assassin as well as a loving wife and mother. "It's time to broaden your horizons, I think," she said ominously.
At her handler's signal, another person came into the office.
Alice was instantly in fight or flight mode. "What the hell is a man doing here?" she spat. Alex was one thing, targets another, but dealing with any other man made her want to puke!
"Calm yourself, Alice," Dahlia said sternly. "Richard here is gay. He's also new and unproven. You'll be working together on the Connor Oswald assignment."
"Nice to meet you," he said, holding out his hand. Alice didn't take it. A gay man was still a man.
Dahlia took off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Think of this as therapy, Alice. You're going to have to get used to working with a man and taking down your target normally. Wouldn't your boyfriend love it if you could work without your 'special preparation'?"
Alex would love it. He had no problem with her killing. Ironically, during her boyfriend's time in Raqqa, Syria, he'd indirectly killed thousands. His "body count" was higher than she could ever dream of, what with hunting targets one at a time. He'd bombarded a city for months straight.
If she could get used to killing targets without fucking them first he'd be so happy. She had to try!
"I'm in!"
"Good," Dahlia seemed pleased. "Richard here is not used to wet work. His role will be to lure the target to one of our secure kill rooms and you'll finish Mr. Oswald yourself. You may use knife, pistol, garrote, whatever you please."
"What if I want to do it?" the man asked. "Don't the agents who can do both luring and killing get paid more?"
Dahlia looked skeptical. "If you feel you can," she allowed. "But your psych profile doesn't indicate a killer, and you haven't been trained. However, if you think you've got the stomach to slit Connor's throat once he's restrained, Alice won't stop you."
Yeah, like that would happen. This guy looked soft as warm butter. "Look forward to working with ya, Dick!"