A nervous smile crept across his face. He realized that despite his job taking him around the world, paying well, and providing the kind of rush that Hollywood types would assert captivated men and women alike, he kept little company besides his coworkers and his family. But perhaps today that would change. His close pal, the medic, had met some other medical practitioners at a conference and got the phone number of one of his constituents after a pleasant evening of medical discussions.

They hit it off and had plenty of discourse regarding ethical (and thoroughly unethical) treatment of the teams they worked with, but at the end of the night it was obvious they shared a relationship that was something between professional and jovial. Further discussion, however, redirected to his friend the sniper. The medic revealed a loneliness, a passion to serve, and an adherence to standards not set by their employers or even comrades that led the medic to tell her about his friend and their similar situations.

He opened his notepad, and gazed upon a name and number among dozens of other names that he had crossed out. This wasn't a professional hit, but he was confident this would be a name he would metaphorically cross out by the end of the night. The encounter was sudden. They agreed to meet at a little known restaurant atop the pagoda at Suijin. The food was easy to forget, a simple table already set and devoid of even a waiter. She, however, was stunning - but not in the classical sense. He didn't expect at all to see some sort of... science fiction Valkyrie? Astronaut angel? Cosmonaut Erinyes? To say she wasn't pleasant to look at would have been a lie though. He fancied himself a connoisseur, and this little sheila would do, yes she would.

She introduced herself as "Mercy". Bugger, maybe she was as wonky as she looked? He would play along, "Sniper" was the name he gave her despite both of them knowing that wasn't his name. It didn't matter either way, they hit it off immediately, something about his crass and oxymoronic personality actually attracted her. Throws piss and talks about propriety? Somehow, it worked for her and he was glad. She babbled on and on about her coworkers, big and small, human and not. He found it especially odd how she would be willing to work with people that hated her guts for the sake of pushing a bomb, but at the end of the day, he often did the same thing, too, and for reasons even more petty.

The tone changed rapidly when they began to talk about matters of mortality. The sniper mentioned that he never really worried about his safety. His team always watched out for one another, and come what may, they would be back to do it again tomorrow. She questioned how that could be possible - if he always succeeded and his enemies always failed, how were they always back to fight the next time? He was stunned. He had always taken it for granted, assumed that the same kind of science magic that the medic used to render his mates invincible must drag them back from the gates of hell. That was when it happened.

As he sat agape for a second, momentarily off-guard by the inward consideration it took to ponder the potential of scientific immortality, she reached across the table and seized the collar of his shirt, pulling him into the most passionate kiss of his life. He briefly wondered what it was that spawned this sudden expression of lust, was it the talk of mortality? The lack of fear of it? Was he significantly more impressive a fellow than even he expected? As soon as the thought occurred to him, however, it dissolved.