HB – Episode 1

HB

Episode 1

Copyright Delia Kelly 2026

Written by D. and the Evil

HB was a novel of 6 books, written on a blog, between 2011 – 2015 by two co-authors, with more than 28 000 views and fans all around the world. This is the continuation of the story that never ended.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, events, organizations, and incidents are either the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, or events is purely coincidental. The views and actions of the characters in this book do not reflect those of the authors. References to violence, crime, or other harmful or illegal behavior are included solely for narrative purposes and are not intended to encourage, condone, or promote such conduct. This work is intended for entertainment purposes only. The authors disclaim any liability for any misuse or misinterpretation of the material contained herein. This book contains themes related to mental health, including references to suicide and psychological distress, which some readers may find sensitive or triggering. These topics are portrayed as part of a fictional narrative and are not intended to encourage or romanticize self-harm or suicide. If you or someone you know is struggling, please consider reaching out to a qualified professional, trusted individual, or a local support service. This work does not intend to promote, endorse, or include discriminatory or harmful content related to race, ethnicity, or identity. Any such elements, if present, exist solely within the context of the fictional narrative. Reader discretion is advised.

Portions of this chapter were translated from Romanian into English or Spanish with the assistance of ChatGPT (OpenAI). The AI was used solely as a translation and language refinement tool. The story, characters, plot, and all creative content are entirely my own.

Re-read the Intro here: HB – Intro – Delia Kelly

Motto:

‘Whatever happens

Don’t let go of my hand (don’t let go of my hand)’

(Michael Jackson – Whatever happens)

‘Humanity’s not all it’s cracked up to be.’

(quote from Damon Salvatore, played by Ian Somerholder –

in the TV Series ‘The Vampire Diaries’)

‘ Vincent Hanna: So, you never wanted to have a normal life?

Neil McCauley: What the hell is this? Barbecues and baseball games?’

(dialogue between Vincent Hanna, played by Al Pacino

and Neil McCauley, played by Robert de Niro,

in the movie ‘Heat’)

D.’s part:

I walked into a restaurant at midday…I stepped onto a thick light-brown carpet and walked across a brown carpet before going down two or three steps into the main dining area. On the restaurant, each wooden table is covered with white tablecloths, giving the room a cozy feel. I sat down at a table, near a large aquarium, filled with snakes instead of fish. Max was waiting for me at the table.

We are both dressed casually. He has a black T-shirt and jeans, while I’m wearing my usual black suit jacket and black skirt.

Behind him, more tables extend into the background. Beyond them, an open doorway leads outside, where people walk in and out, and the view opens onto trees and flowers.

Max looks at me and takes my hand into his. I smile and I know I am happy.

Max: D. you know what I have just realized…we never had a proper date.

And then all of a sudden, the fish tank bursts. Snakes get out and they go everywhere, some crossing below our legs. I know they are non venomous, however I am so damn scared.

People start screaming and there is general chaos…waiters run around, trying to catch the snakes and tell everyone to stay calm. And we don’t move. He looks at me in a way that he’s telling me he is protecting me. While everyone is running around, we remain at the table, while he keeps holding my hand.

And I woke up. Another messed up dream.

5.15 AM. Monday. Getting ready for the ER.

I live in Brooklyn, in a flat that is modern and spacious, with large windows, which are covered in long dark blinds. I have photophobia, so I don’t like natural lights as much. The apartment isn’t anything extravagant, but it serves the need, and it is in a good neighborhood. It has wooden floors, white walls, and an open living room that connects to a small kitchen. And it is also a storage place for all the guns & forbidden things that shouldn’t exist in such an apartment.

I have a Range Rover and a Lexus GX parked in the parking space of the building but cannot go to work with these. Need to keep the appearances.

I came to America at 15 after graduating high school early in London as an academic prodigy. I was accepted to MIT, where I earned my B.S. in Chemistry by the age of 20. During my second year, I was recruited into a highly classified U.S. government talent program for exceptional students, a commitment that lasted until I was 23. After MIT, I went to Harvard, where I earned both my J.D. and my M.D. while continuing my work with the program by 26. I completed my first two years of Emergency Medicine residency before putting my medical training on hold to continue my government assignments – and that’s when I met the Evil. At 28. Happy Birthday, D.

Now, after years away, I’m finally back as a PGY-3.

I get dressed and get out of the apartment at 6 AM, after a shower and my 10 minutes morning workout. Need to get to NYU Langone Hospital Brooklyn.

I always carry a bag with me – a medium-sized travel bag. Inside are the clothes for my other job, my makeup, a pair of heels, guns, knives, a pepper spray, smoking grenades, a tactical flashlight and a handful of other things that aren’t necessarily legal.

I can’t exactly show up at the hospital dressed the way I do for my other life. I just dress casually: a black T-shirt, jeans, sneakers, and a vintage leather jacket.

I step onto the subway knowing I’ve got about 20 minutes before I arrive.

The New York subway is nothing like London’s. London has a certain elegance to it. New York is something else entirely. It feels like the entire world is squeezed into one moving box. Some people are heading to six-figure jobs in Manhattan; others are just trying to make it through another day. You can’t ride it for long without your perspective shifting. But it keeps you humble. It makes me feel like I just live like other people – normal people.

When I arrive at the hospital, I know I have to talk to Mila, Theo, and Damian before I go in. They are my interns. I always try to get there by 6:30, change, and have a 10 -15 minute huddle with them before the shift. It’s important to organize yourself for the day, and it’s even more important to be able to connect with the people around you. A habit I picked up when I was at Colombia…

All three of them are still at the beginning of their journey and want to learn from me. They are all studying at Columbia. Ivy League. Theo and Damian are on scholarships, as they are originally from Croatia and New Zealand, while Mila was born and raised in the UK to American parents, who decided to move back a few years ago.

Theo is white, with curly brown hair and green eyes. He’s feisty. Damian is more calculated. He has black hair, dark eyes, and African heritage. Both Theo and Damian are tall and you can see they are the kind of guys who go often to the gym.

Mila has light brown hair, brown eyes and she’s moderately tall. She’s very direct and can get you into trouble sometimes, but she’s very eager to learn, and when needed, she slips into that polished, posh British attitude.

I walk into the hospital, take the elevator, greet the reception staff, head to the locker room, change, and then go to my colleague Mark, so he can tell me what I’ve got today before my little huddle.

I always liked taking over the shift from Mark. He’s born and raised in New York, knows the system and he’s the calculated type, straight to the point. He knows what to do, when to do it, and how to balance the treatment for the patients. It’s very important to know how to dose properly and not give a patient more than they need, but also to know how fast to act when it’s an emergency or when they’re dealing with life-threatening issues.

• So, Mark, what do we have on the list today?

I stop in front of reception and notice there are more people than usual – visitors and doctors rushing around.

• D., we have a problem… Camilo Hernandez has been admitted. They caught him at the port with a shipment of cocaine. They want to extradite him to Colombia, but the mayor and the authorities are keeping him here. He was shot twice. We operated on him – they just brought him out of surgery. The wounds were on his left arm, and they were superficial.

I stare into space, and I know exactly who he’s talking about. An old “friend” from Colombia…I know far better who Camilo is; how I took his streets from him and how much he hated it. Even so, I let him survive and continue running his business. And that’s why we have this mess now.

• Oh, if I tell the Evil…but let’s not go that way.

What Mark doesn’t know is that I used to work with the intelligence services, and I could make one phone call right now, have him handed over to the people he’s supposed to be with, and leave the local police out of it.

Mark continues.

• Other than that, the ambulance called. They said they’re bringing in a few overdose patients – the usual. Fentanyl. Apparently, it’s pretty bad.

Mark closes the chart and hands it to me.

• And for the rest… you know the drill. Same day, different story.

I take the chart and look at it.

• Any plans with Jessica?

• Oh, D., I just want to go home and sleep. I need that vacation really badly.

I smile.

• Soon, Mark, soon. Keep the faith.

He laughs and walks away.

I take the chart and head to the locker room to meet Mila, Damian, and Theo for the huddle and briefing.

Camilo…Damn.

The last thing I needed. I think about calling Dean – my internal contact at the secret service agency – and telling him that maybe it’s time for them to take him directly…As I know, if I call the Evil, it’s game over. Actually, the one I should call is Michael, but after Colombia, all ended between us. Well, I guess it’s normal, since I chose to be loyal to his brother and rescue him from the sanatory I put him in.

I walk through the door and see Mila, Theo, and Damian standing in the locker room, changing into their hospital clothes. As usual, we form a circle and I talk to them.

This morning, knowing what’s going on with this whole Camilo situation, I think I need to be careful how I deliver the message. I don’t have to show any hard feelings. At the same time, we need to prepare for the fentanyl emergencies.

• So, for the fentanyl cases, can we give them the standard protocol? Theo asks me.

• Yes, you can do that. We need to stabilize them first.

Theo is always calculated and always wants to do his job quickly.

Then Mila and Damian have other questions about what else we might have on the shift, how we’ll divide the cases between us, the standard things we usually go over.

• And what are we doing tonight? Are we still going to dinner? Damian asks.

• Yes, we’re still on for dinner at the Plaza. I think we’ve earned one.

They all laugh. I need that dinner myself.

• I’ll call later and reconfirm, Mila says.

I nod in approval.

We get ready to walk out of the locker room and start the shift.

And I think… if they only knew who I really am, what I do… if they knew even a part of who I am. It’s interesting to see how some people see you like this – as a mentor, as a leader, as their boss…yeah.

We head into the emergency department.

The doors swing open. The paramedics rush in with three young adults suffering from fentanyl overdoses.

I turn to Theo, Damian, and Mila.

• Okay, you can put them in these beds over here. Start administering the protocol, then draw blood for labs and order CT scans of their lungs.

They nod in understanding. Each of them takes charge of one patient and settles them into their assigned beds.

Nothing else critical comes in from the ambulances, apart from an elderly woman with what looks like a burn on her arm, probably from cooking. One of the other doctors on shift takes her case. Those patients wouldn’t have come to me anyway – that’s why we divide responsibilities among the staff according to our assigned roles.

I walk over to the beds where Theo, Damian, and Mila are working.

Then, without warning, the power cuts out.

Screams echo through the emergency department as the lights die.

I don’t know if the outage has affected the entire hospital. Through the doors, which are still open from when the ambulance came in, I can see that the neighboring buildings still have electricity.

Just not our hospital.

Immediately, I think I know what this is about. My dear friend, Camilo.

Nothing like this has ever happened before, and it’s too much of a coincidence for Camilo to be here at the exact moment the power fails. I cannot take the chance. I have to move.

At the same time, I remember that earlier that morning, when I took over the shift from Mark, on my way from reception to the locker room for the huddle, in that 1 minute and 53 seconds, I examined how many several critically ill patients there were. The advantage of having a high IQ with LLI. Three of them were dependent on electrically powered ventilators. Now, with the power out, they would only have minutes before their condition became life-threatening.

I shout across the department, giving Mila, Theo and Damian orders. I know they’ve already administered the necessary medication to the fentanyl patients.

• Go now to beds 22, 23 and 37! Stay with the critical patients and keep them stable.

I yell and I leave. I switch on my phone’s flashlight and hurry down the corridor.

I reach the locker room and immediately change back into my jeans, T-shirt, jacket, and sneakers. Over my clothes, I pull on my surgical gear, along with a mask and surgical cap. I need to stay undercover.

I grab my bag.

I know I have to reach the 2nd floor, where Camilo is.

I can’t risk anyone seeing me. If the cartel has infiltrated the hospital, I can’t afford to walk openly through the stairwells by myself.

I take a different route. Not the public emergency stairwell shown on the hospital’s evacuation maps – the ones anyone can find on the hospital’s website – but a restricted staff emergency stairwell reserved for exceptional situations, such as major security incidents or terrorist attacks.

I make my way through it until I reach the second floor.

Carefully, I ease the door open. I’m standing at one end of the hallway. Camilo’s private room is all the way at the opposite end. That’s when I see them.

Several armed men are entering the floor from the other side, moving with purpose towards Camilo’s room.

I take my phone and text Dean a code, only known by us at the agency. Then, I pull a smoke grenade from my bag and throw it down the hallway in order to temporarily make everyone fall asleep for a few minutes.

Smoke rapidly fills the corridor.

Keeping my face covered with a special mask I take from my bag, I move through the haze to the end of the hall.

I manage to get into Camilo’s room. He’s asleep.

I look around, close the blinds on the windows. I act quickly.

I take a syringe out of my bag and inject him with a substance, enough to paralyze him, so I know I have control over his body. I am the only one with the antidote for that substance, so that will give me some leverage.

I inject him directly because I don’t want to risk waiting for an IV drip.

I finish the injection, take the syringe, and the very next second at 3 cartel agents come through the door carrying Kalashnikov rifles. I raise my hands, since I’m still wearing my hospital gear.

I pretend to be his doctor. Let the fun begin.

• Please don’t shoot. Please don’t shoot. I am his doctor. My name is Dr. Jenny Smith, and I am the surgeon who operated on him. He is not stable. He needs treatment, and he is currently under a substance from which he will not wake up. Only if I inject him every few hours with another substance will he wake up.

I have a slightly shaky, nervous voice… just getting into character.

I see them looking at me.

There are a few moments of silence, and one of them says in broken English.

• Can you take him off the machines?

I nod.

Then I start doing it.

And I hear them talking to each other in Spanish.

• Tenemos que llevárnosla. Si de verdad es la doctora, todavía nos sirve.

• ¿Y después?

• Cuando lleguemos al cuartel, se acabó. Nos deshacemos de ella. No puede quedar ningún testigo.

• Entendido. Que mantenga con vida a Camilo hasta entonces. Después… ya no la necesitaremos. (1)

I act as if I don’t understand anything. I look at them, trying to keep my voice steady.

• If you want him alive, we need to move him in a wheelchair first. Then we’ll transfer him into an ambulance. There’s one parked behind the hospital. I’ll show you where it is.

One of the agents narrows his eyes.

• Why the back?

The front entrance is crowded. And the police might be here soon.

The three of them exchange a quick look. Finally, the one in charge nods.

• Fine. You lead the way. But don’t try anything.

I won’t.

‘cause if I will… you will be gone very soon. But not yet.

We put Camilo into a wheelchair, we go downstairs, we load him into the ambulance, and I get into the back with him and my bag. The agents are with us. One gets into the front to drive the ambulance, and two stay with us in the back.

I’m sitting beside him, and the two agents are sitting across from us with their weapons pointed in our direction.

One of the agents – the same one who spoke to me before – looks at me and says:

• Don’t do anything stupid.

The ambulance starts moving. I’ve already given the guy who’s driving the directions for where to drive, where to exit, and the exit codes, so no one can suspect that anything is wrong.

I wait until we reach the main boulevard in Brooklyn.

I know I have to act quickly. I know I have to do what I was trained to do. I know Camilo won’t stay unconscious for very long, and that isn’t to my advantage.

I keep my eyes on the road ahead through the rear door window, waiting.

The moment the ambulance reaches the main boulevard, I know this is the moment.

I lunge forward, catching one of the guys off guard. His rifle slips from his hands as I drive him backward into the side of the ambulance. The second man reacts immediately, throwing himself towards me. We crash into the cabinets lining the wall. The metal doors open as equipment scatters across the floor. I pick up the oxygen tank and hit him. I pick up as well the surgical scissors.

I manage to wrench one of the rifles away and throw it across the ambulance, out of everyone’s reach. The guy I initially hit now grabs me by the shoulder, but I drive him into the wall with enough force to send him collapsing to the floor and I take out the scissors and cut his throat.

The remaining man lunges again.

I twist away, forcing him off balance, and he crashes into the rear doors. Before he can recover, I take the rifle and shoot him 4 times.

The driver keeps speeds up. I climb into the front.

He turns towards me. I take off the doctor’s coat and put it around his neck. The ambulance lurches forward at high speed. I am strangling him, while I turn and look towards the back. Camilo’s wheelchair is rocking from side to side, sliding dangerously with every sharp turn.

I just hope he doesn’t crash into any of the medical equipment left unsecured in the rear compartment. The driver becomes unconscious within seconds and I take control of the ambulance.

I slide into the driver’s seat, grip the wheel, and hit the accelerator. He’s not dead. I know I have to keep one alive for the investigation.

I speed up and minutes later I pull the ambulance the secured entrance of the agency headquarters. I jump out, open the rear doors, and lower Camilo’s wheelchair onto the pavement and push him through the entrance.

The moment I cross the threshold, I slam my hand against the large red emergency button mounted on the wall.

The alarm echoes through the building. I shout.

• Code Black!

Within seconds, agents flood the corridor from every direction. I point them to the ambulance, to make sure they take care of the one who’s still alive and the other 2 potential dead bodies. I go back and pick up my bag and walk inside.

Dean is already coming down the staircase, his expression shifting from confusion to disbelief the moment he recognizes me.

• Dean, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you.

• Yeah, D., it’s been a long time, indeed.

2 agents start searching me, while staying in front of Dean.

• You know there’s protocol. You have to come in and explain everything. Especially for an inactive agent.

I look at him.

• Yes, I know the protocol. I know I have to come and do that, but I don’t have time right now. And this… is gonna be news soon.

The agents are still surrounding me.

• Let her go, I will deal with it, Dean says.

The agents let me go. I look at the clock on the wall. It’s 12.30.

I know I already have to be at my new job. I ask for the restroom. I need to take off all my hospital gear.

I enter and first thing is to wipe the blood from my hands, and change into a suit and heels. I do my makeup, put on perfume, place the rest of my clothes in my bag, throw the hospital gear into the trash. I look at myself in the mirror for a few seconds and take a deep breath.

What a day.

I really didn’t expect to kill anyone today. But I had to do what needed to be done.

I walk out of the building and stop a taxi.

I know I have to go to the bank and start trading.

I check my phone and see the hospital’s WhatsApp group flooded with messages. I text Mila, Damian and Theo on our group to let them know I had to go to the other job and that I see them tonight. I read their texts and they seem to have everything in order.

I also hear at the radio in the cab the news: Camilo Hernandez has been handed to the secret services this morning, in an escape from NYU Langone Hospital Brooklyn, organized by the notorious cartel…

I put in my Airpods and turn on my Spotify playlist as I cannot listen to that. This is going to be a long day. It is also one of those days where I would badly need to drink.

Then I remind myself that I can’t drink.

I mean, I can, but I’m an ex-addict.

So, I really need to take care of myself.

I can’t do that to myself.

When those overdose patients came in this morning, I couldn’t stop thinking about all the shelves of drugs we have in the hospital. How many combinations could be made to cause an overdose… and how I could access them in a second.

It’s a battle with addiction every single day. A hard battle.

It hurts to see it in other people because I know how deeply it can affect you.

And no matter how many support groups there are, or how many places are supposed to help you talk about it and recover, it’s a lonely journey, where it’s just you with yourself.

However, I don’t have time to think about that.

I need to go and make some money on Wall Street.

The Evil’s part:

What a mess… I can’t even begin to describe how disastrous all of this is. I’ve never been in a situation like this before – not since the very beginning of beginnings. And I’ve lived through more of human history than anyone could imagine.

But after being locked away in that asylum with Hans and the rest of the lunatics, I lost my powers.

Michael and I always had one rule throughout history: whenever we created something or made someone dangerous, especially brilliant minds capable of changing the course of the world, we made sure they didn’t stay alive long enough to become a threat. This time, I let one slip through. That was my mistake. One I have no intention of repeating. What can I say… when I left the sanatorium, let’s say that this message was very well understood and communicated at a global scale.

Now I have to leave and travel the world, to really understand the damage. Which, once again, is far from ideal. Sure, my brother and I have supernatural abilities, but every time we use them, we disturb the balance of the world. Whatever I do has to be a quick in and out. Otherwise, we start tearing at the fabric of time itself.

It’s fascinating, really. Humanity’s greatest engineers are still trying to figure out teleportation… while I can do it in an instant, whenever I choose. I know they recently were able to do the successful teleportation of a photon’s quantum state, between two separate quantum dots over a 270-meter free-space link in Rome. Amateurs… they should really look at the concept of complete quantum state transfer.

Basically, every particle in an object has to be linked with a corresponding set of particles at the destination. To create a perfect ‘match’. Then, the wavefunction would be able to transfer all the quantum information to the destination: all the atomic positions, the molecular bonds… all that matters is to reconfigure piece by piece the matter into an identical quantum state. Once the match is done, the initial object will be destroyed and the new one will ‘created’…

Ahh, I should teach. I tell myself that all the time. But I know there are secrets that can never be told – secrets that Michael and I have to keep to ourselves.

And with D., another mess. And now, there are souls like Max’s, trying to break the veil of death. How did we end up here? In the same kind of situation… repeating the same patterns. It’s utterly humiliating and deeply disturbing.

And the pandemic… damn, that wasn’t in the books. At all. That shouldn’t have happened. There is something that humans know as the theory of chaos… It’s the closest theory I can use to explain what happened with the pandemic. There is a lot that should not have happened. Lives lost. Lives saved. Michael and I in no control.

We are like yin and yang, my brother and I…if we do not balance each other, we cannot succeed.

D. and I had been through a lot…since the moment I entered her life. Humans like her don’t repeat as much through the history of time and they are born with a certain mission. In her case, she has to work with me…

My brother was smart enough and took advantage of this. However, I never expected that we would be so close to the Apocalypse. This has never happened. And we’ve been through two World Wars. And prevented the Third one… but that’s a story for another time.

And Max… that imbecile. Only when I think that he might be back and trigger her so much trauma. It took me agrees to make her realize how toxic he was and how she wasn’t doing everything she needed to maximize her potential because of him. Now imagine the risk of having all this work being undone.

But today is not the day to worry about that. I have to go in all the 4 corners of the world: Longyearbyen (Svalbard) in Norway, Sinabang in Indonesia, Ushuaia in Argentina and Puerto Villamil (Galápagos) in Ecuador…to see the damage. But one at a time. I start with Svalbard.

D.’s part:

I arrive at the bank for the afternoon shift. I only trade on European markets, that’s my specialty. I sit on my desk, and hear my colleagues talking about Camilo…that idiot.

• Hey, D., did you see what happened this morning?

They know I have a part-time job at the hospital, but they don’t know what I am doing and where.

I nod, while looking at the handover Word document and check the latest news and stock exchanges. I don’t have much time to talk while I work there. When you trade, you have to be quick. Markets are ruthless.

I trade both listed and OTC. The markets open and I can see a lot of panic on the listed stock exchanges, due to the events in New York this morning and the news coming from Colombia. Most stocks plunge with 8% on panic selling. After the first 30 minutes, I see prices moving up and down with gains and losses of approx. 5%.

The OTC market is even more chaotic. Fewer centralized quotes, thinner liquidity. Bid-ask spreads widen. Dealers constantly adjusting their quotes.

I know I don’t need to try to predict the markets’ direction. I need to wait for exaggerated moves, enter after panic-driven selloffs, and sell once prices recover.

This is how I will accumulate gains and avoid holding positions for long.

And I am right…as always.

It’s 4 PM and my strategy seems to work.

I have exactly twenty minutes for a break. Before I quit smoking, this used to be my two-cigarette break. Now it’s my tea break.

I need to stay focused because I’m trading across multiple portfolios, and I have to make sure I’m maximizing the NAV.

I told Salah to meet me at the café across from the building.

We’ve been seeing each other for a while. We’ve had sex a few times, but I’ve always been emotionally distant with him. I know he wants something more from me. I know he’s trying. I just can’t bring myself to think about that.

One morning, I woke up beside him after dreaming about Max, and ever since then I’ve told him not to sleep over at my apartment or stay there overnight anymore.

I enter the coffee shop, say hello to him and order my mint tea, while he gets himself a protein smoothie.

Classic – such a professional basketball player thing to do.

While we are waiting for our order, he stands behind me. I knew he is watching me.

I know Salah’s looking me up and down, taking in my skirt, my silk stockings, my stiletto heels. I know he’s wondering what I’d be like in bed… and I also know that he sees me as the kind of girl that’s unavailable. That’s too busy with her trading job. That she might be lonely at night or that she had a few bad experiences with guys and that she lost her faith in guys.

What Salah doesn’t know is that, to be honest, I haven’t met men who are fundamentally different from Max. Sure, I’ve met better versions – men who weren’t as low or as toxic – but the point is that Max set the standard for just how bad someone can be. And sometimes that improved version that I see of a man isn’t necessarily what a woman truly wants – it’s just someone who fills the emptiness when we’re alone. That doesn’t necessarily mean sex. It simply means attention.

And when all of them start to act like shining heroes, who show up, care, and even love… that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re what a woman truly needs. It just means they’re an improved version of the benchmark Max set.

As in the end, men are mostly the same. It’s incredibly rare to find the kind of man you see in movies or certain romance novels – the kind who respects his woman with the same reverence he has for God, or whatever higher power he believes in.

And apparently, if we’re going by what Michael said – and what the Evil confirmed – that Max and I had that real, true love. Can you imagine what that says about humanity these days if we were considered true love? And then people wonder why the world is falling apart.

I mean, if those are the standards we’re starting with, how is anyone supposed to survive, let alone be genuinely happy?

I pick up my tea and watch him while he’s still waiting for his smoothie.

He’s tall, of African descent, born and raised in America, and he plays in the professional basketball league. He’s younger than me with a few years, he’s 28.

He’s always dressed in the latest Adidas gear because he’s one of their ambassadors. He also likes to wear a bandana on his head from time to time and he has this tendency to keep his jeans or sweatpants hanging low; he is built with tons of muscle and a six-pack…And he’s tattooed.

I have a soft spot for tattoos. Max actually got one just for me that said “La Rubia”. Of course, it said “La Rubia”… but I don’t tell this to Salah. And Max also used to dress like that and look similar to him. No wonder I am attracted to him.

He’s also an overachiever, just like me, addicted to adrenaline. He’s very successful.

And yet, he keeps chasing someone like me.

He always picks me up in his Bentley, and we listen to rap because he knows it’s my favorite kind of music.

But at the same time… well, like I said, he’s nowhere near special. There’s nothing about him that makes me see him any differently.

He’s just another man in my life.

• Do you want to have dinner tonight?

He asks, while looking at me.

I look at my watch. Exactly twelve minutes left.

• I can’t. I’m going out with my coworkers.

The barista calls his name for the smoothie. He walks over to the counter and picks it up.

• You’re always busy when it comes to me.

He seems to be annoyed, but he doesn’t show it to me.

I play the innocent card.

• Are you accusing me of something?

He takes a sip of the smoothie without looking at me.

• No. I just think you’re avoiding me.

I don’t react. My face doesn’t give anything away…but his confidence amuses me.

• You’ll have to make me a better offer if you actually want me to have dinner with you.

I pick up my tea.

• You know I have standards.

I start walking towards the door, while he follows behind me.

• So you have standards, D?

He says it like he’s making fun of me.

We step outside, and he walks me to the entrance of the bank.

As we’re walking, I turn around and keep moving backwards, till I’m facing him, leaving a comfortable distance between us.

• Yes Salah, I have standards. Meaning that if you really want to take me out to dinner, you do it in a way that makes it impossible for me to say no.

I laugh.

He just watches me, without saying anything and follows me all the way to the bank’s entrance.

It’s not like he’s some desperate guy who doesn’t have other options. But I think he’s got a thing for me. He wouldn’t be the first, and he certainly won’t be the last.

I look at him and say flatly.

• You can’t kiss me here.

I know it annoys him. I also know he won’t react.

His eyes travel slowly from my head to my toes before he finally says.

• See you later.

Then he turns and walks away.

I head back inside the building.

What a waste of time.

The Evil’s part:

I arrive in Svalbard as my first destination. It’s been many years since I was here. I know I have to visit Magnus. Magnus has always been loyal to me. He never asked too many questions; he just did his job. And over the years, he answered the questions I needed to be answered.

There aren’t many houses here, but I know his house very well because it is the only red house in town, and I wanted it to be red. To make sure it stands out and it is very reachable.

I head towards it, and I see Magnus outside, drinking a mug of coffee or tea. I think it’s tea because I remember he really liked herbal tea. Magnus is bundled up against the Arctic cold, wearing a thick insulated parka zipped all the way to his chin, wool-lined trousers, heavy winter boots, and thick blue gloves. A knitted beanie covers most of his head, leaving only his weathered face exposed to the freezing air.

I walk up to Magnus. I realize I’m wearing nothing but a jacket and a T-shirt, but, well, I don’t feel the cold. One of the few advantages of being what I am is that temperatures mean nothing to me. And I know Magnus won’t ask any questions.

I walk up to him, and he is very straightforward. We don’t need much dialogue, so I ask him if he’s noticed anything strange over the past few months or lately.

• I don’t know what to say… the polar bears. They’ve kind of changed their hunting grounds. There was some kind of friction. All the animals around here left, came back, left again. Nothing out of the ordinary, but it was something I noticed. But during the last northern lights, there was something different.

• Different how?

• I don’t know. I noticed there was some kind of grey. It wasn’t the usual colors. There was a gray streak running through the aurora. It wasn’t bright or glowing. Just gray.

• This is not good. This doesn’t look good. These are signs, and they are not good signs.
• Anything else? I ask him.
• Yeah, there is something. Something happened recently, about a month ago, with the glaciers. And I know that we have the most important glaciers in the world here, the major ones. Two of them had pieces break off and fall, but I don’t know how to explain it. It didn’t look like they were just pieces breaking off. It looked like they had moved. It didn’t look like a normal ice collapse. The pieces broke off, but something about their motion had changed. They didn’t move the way ice usually does.

Magnus pauses for a second. Then, he continues.

• Maybe that’s just in my mind. I’ve been here a long time, so, you know… you know how it is when you see these things.

Unfortunately, this time I think Marcus is right…

I leave and go straight to Austfonna. I know what lays beneath its vast sheet of ice, and unlike any human, I could reach it. One of the few advantages of being what I am.

The glacier, one of the largest in the Arctic, stretches across the island. Beneath it lays a world no human had ever truly seen, nor it will ever see. To mankind, Austfonna is a glacier. To Michael and I, it is something else entirely – a place that had always been watched, guarded, and safeguarded.

I stepped directly into the water and descended into the depths. I don’t feel the cold and I have no need to breathe. Ah, it’s good to be back in shape.

What can I say, the darkness is more familiar to me than the light. I have to feel whether cracks had formed, so I go straight to the depth.

When I reached the base of glacier, I begin to move and touch the glacier. I start to feel deep cracks, wide enough for me to slip through, and that is not good… Not only I can slip through them. They are large enough for everything to break apart.

This is the First Seal from the Bible… the classic rider on the white horse. I mean, you can see why it is white.

I continue to touch the glacier and feel the cracks growing larger and larger. The Seal is breaking, and if the glacier collapsed, people would die and the climate would change completely.

It is bad. Very bad.

I decided I cannot stay any longer. I shut to the surface at the speed of light and land back on the snow. I am soaked, but I feel nothing.

• F**k… how did we get here?

I scream, but I know no one will answer this. This is outrageous.

This isn’t supposed to happen. D. Was actually right. The Apocalypse is coming… and that’s the worst news in human history.

I have to check the other locations, but one day at a time.

Now that I have broken the barrier of time and space by teleporting, I have to return to New York. I might have spent only two hours here, but in reality, much more time had passed…

D.’s part:

It’s 8 PM when I arrived at the Palm Court. I know Mila, Theo and Damian are already in. I could really use a drink tonight.

As I walk in, I see Dean waiting for me at the bar. Of course, he found me here.

I walk over to the bar, and Dean looks at me.

• Hi, D. Happy to see you again. You know the protocol. You know how it is. I need to fill out a report and send it to my boss this evening.

There are tall bar stools lined up along the counter. I sit down on the chair beside him.

• Yes, Dean, I say. I know. I know the protocol.

The bartender walks over behind the bar and approaches us.

• Do you want something to drink? Dean asks.

He’s having whisky on ice. I hesitate. I know I could really, really use a drink. But I can’t do that to myself. Not now. I can’t. I have to stay strong.

I look at the bartender.

• Just water with ice and a lemon.

Dean laughs and looks at me again.

• So, tell me what happened.

• You know what happened, Dean. The guy was admitted into the hospital. I had to check on him on my shift. They cut the power at the hospital, so I knew something was going to happen. And I had to act. There was nothing to think about. You know very well we were trained to know exactly what to do in situations like these. There wasn’t a second thought. I think you needed him in your custody.

The bartender brings my glass of water with ice and lemon. I take a sip.

• That’s right. D. I know that. Anything else you want to tell me?

I look at him.

• No, Dean. Nothing, to be honest. There’s nothing else I can really think of. But I know where to find you if that’s the case.

Dean laughs.

• Do you ever think of rejoining us?

If he would only know what I do for a living…

• No, Dean, I am happy with my normal jobs.

Then, I notice Mila looking over from the table. She spots me and waves.

• Ok, Dean. I have to go.

• See you, D.

I pick up the glass from the bar and walk towards the table.

As I leave the bar and head towards them, I notice an aquarium. It’s exactly like the aquarium from my dream this morning. Exactly the same.

I’ve never seen it here before.

I think it’s new.

I’ve been to this restaurant before. We come here at least once a month, and it was never here.

I begin to shake.

I tighten my grip around my glass, terrified that I might drop it, because this is exactly like my dream this morning. There aren’t any snakes in it as it is just an ordinary aquarium fish, but I don’t know. I don’t know how this is possible.

I need to text the Evil.

I need to tell him I need him to come here.

This isn’t how this is supposed to happen.

And I can’t… it would be too much for one day if I saw Max walk through that door, just like in the dream.

This can’t happen.

Not now.

Not tonight.

As I reach the table, everyone stands up and we hug. They are all very happy to see me.

• D., we ordered some starters. I hope you don’t mind. Go ahead and try some, Damian says.

I sit down with my face towards the entrance, exactly like in the dream, thinking that if it’s Max… at least, well, I guess I’ll be the first one to see him the moment he walks through the door. And then I text the Evil.

It is 9 PM when he walks through the restaurant door.

I see him walking past Dean at the bar, who is now there with another man, probably a client or a coworker, and he comes towards our table.

He sits down across from me. Mila is sitting to my right, and across from Mila are Damian and Teo.

He kisses my hand. Ah, I hate when he does that.

Damian, Teo, and Mila look at him in surprise.

• Oh, I’m sorry, I should have introduced myself. I’m Joseph. I’m D.’s boss from a previous job she had at an investment bank.

Where did he even come up with Joseph, the most Biblical name possible…

• Oh, Joseph, it’s so nice to meet you, Mila says. D., you never told us about your other jobs. It’s so great to have someone come and join us.

The Evil sits across from me. I look at him. I don’t react. I try to keep a smile on my face.

And he smiles.

• What a pleasure to meet you, Mila. You have such a beautiful accent. Are you British?

I see she giggles.

• No. My parents lived in England, but I lived there for many years, in London.
• Oh, London. What a city. Amazing. D. lived there as well.

I try to pretend and hold myself back from saying anything, because it’s going to be a long evening.

Now I regret that I only ordered a glass of water with ice and lemon at the bar.

I see the Evil looking around, analyzing everything, and he notices the aquarium.

Then he looks at me.

I look at him.

And we try to continue the evening as normally as possible, because I can already see that he’s getting annoyed. So, I ask him.

• Joseph, how was your day? What have you done today?

He knows that’s not exactly an appropriate question, because there’s no way he can tell me what he really did today, since I know very well that he told me he was going to investigate what had happened around the world.

• And I’m very curious to see how he’ll answer that question.

Theo also adds to my question.

• Yes, Joseph, what do you do for a living? Are you like the head of the trading desk?
• Head of product delivery actually. And yes, I do I travel a lot. I travel very often. Even today I was away, and I just got back.
• Oh, Damian says. Really? So early? That fast?
• Yes. I went to New Jersey and back.

I look at the Evil as I know the truth. He didn’t go to New Jersey.

• I have four clients that I have to meet, and I met the first one in New Jersey. But it was a very good meeting because we found out that we have a problem in the system.
• Oh, no way, Damian says. How bad is it? Did you know anything about this?
• Yes, we have a problem with our biggest product, and if we continue with this problem, we’re going to lose the product. And if we lose the product, we could even go bankrupt.

I look at the Evil and cannot believe that he’s making the analogy that the apocalypse would be a bankruptcy.

• We’ve identified a major glitch that’s happening in one specific location, and we’re hoping to mitigate the risk, so hopefully it doesn’t happen in other locations.
• Oh, this must be awful, Mila says. I suppose you were really stressed. No wonder you wanted to come for dinner tonight.

The Evil looks at me and smiles.

• D. invited me here because she knew it hadn’t been easy, and I know she also had difficulties at the hospital today.
• Yes, we all did, Theo says. We lost power for about half an hour. We were afraid the patients were going to die. We had to put them on battery-powered backup ventilators. We had to monitor them nonstop. Then we also had people come in with fentanyl overdoses.
• Yeah, and after you left, D., Damian says, things got even worse. We got new patients – some people come in stabbed in a gang fight.
• Oh, it was terrible, Mila says.

Joseph looks at them.

• Terrible day, guys. Isn’t that right, D.?

I look at him.

I don’t react.

And he knows what I mean from the way I’m looking at him.

We look at each other, and I see him smile, and I know how ironic is what he’s doing right now is. The waiter comes and he is asking for the main course.

And as if that wasn’t enough, I see Salah across the room as he walks into the restaurant with his friends. He doesn’t see me at first, but after he heads towards his table, he sees me.

He looks at me, I look at him. It doesn’t surprise me that he’s having dinner here – I think it’s the most popular place in town at the moment. Besides, he’s here with his basketball teammates.

I know it’s only a matter of time until something will blow.

The waiter leaves and we start talking about other subjects.

Then, he comes back bringing more alcohol, more bottles of wine. I see Mila, Damian, and Teo starting to feel good.

The Evil keeps ordering himself a whiskey.

I stick to water because I can’t afford to switch to anything else. It has been a long day. I’m starting to feel exhausted.

I glance at the aquarium from time to time, but I’m somehow relieved that the Evil is here, because I know that if Max’s capable of walking through that door, then I’ll be able to… I’ll be safe because he’s here.

The Evil starts telling the three of them stories about his travels – obviously fake stories, but he likes telling them. They all start laughing. They like his attention and everything.

• But what happened? Why didn’t D. travel with you anymore in the last few years? I thought she only recently changed the job at the bank, Mila asks.

The Evil and I look at each other at that question.

I decide to answer, so the situation doesn’t become more awkward.

• Yeah, I had an incident. My ex-boyfriend died.

Damian, Theo, and Mila look at me in shock. Mila hugs me.

• Oh my God, that’s terrible. How? Oh my God, so sorry to hear.

I look at the three of them.

• It happened a long time ago. I moved over.
• Yeah, what a tragedy.

The Evil makes sure to point that out.

• If I may ask, what happened? I mean, was he sick or something? Damian continues.

I stare into space for a few seconds before I talk.

• No. He was shot.

They are horrified.

• What?1 I can’t believe it, Theo says. No, that can’t be.

If they would only know…

The Evil continues because he sees it’s affecting me.

• Yeah, it was a feud between gangs. He got caught in the middle.

I look at him. He sees the reaction I have, but I don’t say anything.

I continue.

• Yeah, indeed. It was something that happened the way it happened, and there was nothing anyone could do.

And that’s it. I have to change the subject from this topic. It’s the last thing I wanted to talk about.

• If I may ask, what was his name? Damian adds.

I look at the Evil as I know how much his name annoyed him.

• Max. Maximiliano.

Mila pours more wine into the guys’ glasses, and meanwhile I see Salah on the other side of the restaurant approaching our table.

I’ve just noticed he is wearing my favorite black suit, the one that let the tattoo on his neck show.

I look at the Evil and try to whisper something, but I see he is already reading my thoughts.

Salah’s getting closer to the table, so I slam the glass of water down on the table. Damian, Theo and Mila turn towards us, unsure of what’s happening.

I continue to look at the Evil when Salah gets to the table.

• Are you ok, D.? Salah asks.

I am sure he saw my gesture.

Damian, Theo and Mila keep looking at me, surprised. The Evil stands up and speaks in the most English accent I have ever heard.

• Do we have a problem, mate?

The Evil takes a step closer to him. Salah looks at me. The Evil continues while I see the bodyguards approaching Salah.

• You are at my table, mate.

The three of them look again surprised.

The bodyguards get closer to Salah, but he doesn’t move.

• Are you ok, D.? Salah asks again.

He looks worried.

Ah…playing this game. It never gets old.

• Do I look like I have a problem, Salah? I say, on an angry tone, like his presence there annoys me.

He glances at me, then at the bodyguards. He seems surprised that I speak to him like this.

I continue – I need to put this one on him.

• I thought I told you today that if you want me to go to dinner with you, you have to make it impossible for me to say no – not make me want to get rid of you as quickly as possible.

He seems annoyed with me before turning and walking away.

The Evil looks at me and we both start to laugh. Damian and Theo are still trying to figure out what just happened.

• Who is this guy? says Theo.

• D., do you know him? What was he doing here? asks Damian.

I laugh.

• Joseph knows me well… that’s what happens when I don’t want to talk to guys. Salah is a guy who’s trying for a while to hook up with me. This is a game Joseph and I used to play…long time ago. When we were…

• In college. At Harvard.

The Evil finishes my sentence, giving me a look that tells me not to say too much.

• Indeed. In college. At Harvard.

I echo what he says, making it clear we’re in agreement.

• Well, then, you got him! says Damian, laughing.

We all start to laugh, while the waiter comes with the main course.

I’m not hungry. I can’t eat. I managed to eat something back at the bank, at the office. I know it’s not ideal, but I really can’t eat anything else. I’m not hungry, but I’ll keep up appearances and try to eat.

I look around the restaurant and I see Salah at his table, talking to the guys and explaining to them what happened. I can tell he’s angry. I see him looking at me, and I realize I have to do something about it.

I stand up.

• Excuse me, I’m just going to the toilet, I tell everyone.

I leave, making sure to walk past his table, so he’ll see me as I’m heading to the bathroom.

The restroom is huge, and there’s a hallway between the women’s and men’s restrooms. I wait there so we don’t cause any conflict. It doesn’t take long before he comes.

I notice there’s no one in the men’s restroom, so we step just inside the entrance area. The sinks line the wall to my right beneath a row of mirrors, while the stalls are on the left. He stays by the doorway, facing me, close enough to leave at any moment. I rest one hand on the sink to my right as I look back at him.

He’s angry. I can see it.

• What the f**k, D., what the f**k was that?

I look at him.

I don’t know. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to tell him. Because at the end of the day, what is there to say? I mean…

I can’t explain this. People imagine things. People imagine. People imagine. And that’s why there are so many books, so many ideas, so many movies even, that talk about these kinds of connections, these kinds of relationships where the guy looks good and the girl looks good and there’s chemistry and something begins to develop.

I mean, in real life, let’s think about what happened from this morning until now. Let’s think about what I was doing this morning. Let’s think about how I got from 8 a.m. to 8 p.m. and what happened. I mean, let’s not lie to each other. This whole thing that, oh, he’s this big basketball player and what’s happening… he’s living in an illusion. I live in real life.

These are fairy tales with princes. I mean, I went to Harvard and look what kind of guy I ended up dating. He wasn’t any Prince Charming. He was a thief and a drug dealer. And let’s remember that few months ago, I was running with Michael cartels in Colombia. Not even going to mention how I worked as an assassin for the Evil.

That’s why I can’t tell him that this doesn’t make any sense…but I know I have to say something.

• Are we still okay?

He looks at me, surprised, because that’s all I could come up with.

Then he scoffs, rolling his eyes in frustration, and punches the wall beside the doorway.

• F**k this day.

And he leaves.

Then I leave too and go back to the table. The Evil noticed what happened. I can tell Damian, Teo, and Mila didn’t.

So, we just continue the conversation.

Sometime around 11, the Evil pays the bill and leave together, knowing that the guys have to be at the hospital by 7 AM. I am off Tuesday.

The Evil and I grab a cab. As the driver weaves through the streets of Manhattan, the Evil turns to me and I can see irritation written all over his face.

• Why did you want us to pull that stunt with Salah? What’s your plan with him? I really hope this isn’t turning into Max 2.0.

I shake my head.

• No. Don’t worry. Just trust me.

He lets out a humorless laugh.

• When has that ever worked out for us, D.?

I don’t answer.

Instead, I let the silence settle between us.

We have far bigger problems to worry about. After all, the apocalypse is coming.

I take a small notebook out of my bag, grab a pen, and start writing.

‘People imagine…’

It’s been a while since I’ve written, and I need to write. Technically, at my core, I’m a screenwriter, director, and film producer… I had a film that won the Palme d’Or, but it was released under someone else’s name, back in the days when I was in missions with the Evil, before we reached the Colombia point… that was my greatest achievement.

But those were different times.

In 20 minutes, the taxi stops in front of one of the 220 Central Park South.

I know he had his apartment there for ages, in one of NY’s most exclusive buildings. We go at floor 66. He knows how much I hate heights.

Once inside, I feel like I can relax. There is no more fake life, no pretending. This is just so normal for me.

The apartment is modern, but the main living room has changed. A large table dominates the space. On every wall there is an enormous map, crowded with photographs, newspaper clippings in half a dozen languages, handwritten notes, and colored marking locations across the world. It looks like the center of an investigation.

This is new. None of it had been here when I was there 1 month ago.

It’s linked to the ending of the world. I need to actually SEE what happens in front of my eyes.

I watch him walk over to the wall, where there is a picture. I think of Norway or somewhere in the Arctic. I see him draw a red X across it while he writes ‘First Seal’.

• So, what happened? I ask.

He takes the picture off the wall and shows me the glacier.

• It extends several miles beneath the surface, forming an immense body of ice that reaches all the way down to its base. I went there today. I felt the cracks. Everything is fractured. And this is connected to the First Seal. I think the First Seal is breaking. And we are in danger because there are seven seals, before the Apocalypse is coming.

• Like in the Bible?

• Yes. Exactly like in the Bible. Not everything in the Bible is false, you know.
• Then we have a serious problem.

He looks at me like I’ve just reached the most obvious conclusion in the world.

• I’ll have to check the others as well. But it won’t be that easy. For some, I’ll need you to come with me.

I look back at him, nodded, and said nothing.

I go near the walls, trying to absorb all the information. He is now near the bar and he is pouring a glass of whisky on ice for himself.

• D., apart from that, I know there’s a lot of things that happened.

He keeps pouring without looking at me. I look at him, at the kitchen table, at the knives set.

Yeah…apart from the fact that 7 years ago I committed suicide when I reached my limit with our crazy missions and you did save me; apart from the fact that I had to lock you down in a sanatorium where you had previously locked me, to have you finally lose the power; apart from the fact that it triggered world chaos and a global pandemic; apart from the fact that you escaped and you did not…

• Kill you. Remember, D.? I didn’t kill you.

He comes closer to me. I keep forgetting he can do that. Reading my mind.

I was here 1 month ago…He was just back… from the Sanatorium. And I was just back from Columbia. From the mission I had with Michael.

He invited me for a fancy dinner and had his private chefs cook the best food for us. And while we almost finished dinner, he looked at me and said:

• It is time for dessert.

He knew I wasn’t eating anything sweet, so I knew there was a twist. Once the waiters cleared the table, he grabbed my hand and threw me on the table. He came and put his hand on my chest and I felt how I started to sink….and fall…and keep falling in the darkness. And then I felt the worst pain I have ever experienced, the darkest thoughts I have ever had. I felt darkness. I felt like my worst fears came true. I felt how I was burning. I heard the screams of thousands of souls…I couldn’t even describe it in words. I just felt torn apart in a million ways. I saw a million faces…one of them was Max’s, who was screaming…but I only saw him for a split second.

What lasted almost 5 minutes…for me it felt like 5 years.

And then all of a sudden, I was back on his kitchen table screaming. He took his hand from my chest and started to laugh. I kept screaming and couldn’t stop.

He then came back near the table and sat beside it. He placed both hands on the tabletop, one on either side of my head and leaned towards me just enough to meet my gaze.

He lowered his voice and whispered in my ear.

• Just use your imagination, D. If these were 5 minutes…just imagine what else, I can do to you.

I knew he wanted to scare me. I knew this was payback for the sanatorium. I knew that was his way of telling me not to cross the line. Not that I will ever do it again. As I knew that I had thrown the whole world on fire when he lost his power.

He keeps looking at me.

• I understand that you need to feel a bit ‘human’. As you are. But this….this is more important than any mission we had to do together. So, I need you to be available. At least 5 days a week. Keep your part-time jobs for Monday and Wednesday as nothing major started during these days in the world history.

Yeah, I knew what he meant by that. WW1 was on a Tuesday – same was 9/11. WW2 was on a Friday, Chernobyl was on a Saturday, Pearl Harbor was on a Sunday…OK, WHO declared Covid-19 a global pandemic on a Wednesday, but that happened because all was upside down.

I look at him and nod.

• I might need some extra help with that.

He nods in agreement.

He then goes and sits on the sofa with the glass of whisky.

There’s such a strange dynamic between us. Always has been.

Every time I look at him and that body… he always looks so impeccable. Defined abs, flawless skin – the kind of perfection that seems almost unreal. I know that body is nothing more than a cover, a carefully crafted shell, but that doesn’t stop me from thinking about it sometimes, from a purely human perspective. There has always been a certain chemistry between us, from the very first moment (or crime) and it is undeniable, no matter how hard I try to ignore it. But whatever exists between us is so twisted, tangled into something neither of us could ever call normal.

I go to the bar, take a glass, put ice in it, while he is watching me. Then I go to the fridge and pour sparking water on it.

It helps me deceive my own mind.

I sit down on the sofa opposite his.

A coffee table separates us. He crouches down, sets the glass on the table and looks up at me.

• Columbia. Now.

I sigh as I know it is gonna be a long night.

To be continued…

Footnote (1) (translation from Spanish):

• We have to take her with us. If she’s really the doctor, she’s still useful. 

• And after that? 

• Once we get back to headquarters, it’s over. We get rid of her. We can’t leave any witnesses. 

• Understood. Let her keep Camilo alive until then. After that… we won’t need her anymore.