“Adventure lured you out of retirement?” A man in grey shirt asked, handing over an envelope containing money trails, few profiles, some cash and IDs.
His companion paused before replying, “Remember the factory blast in ’15?” His handler nodded, they’d lost some good men and women.
“My mentor was among the fallen.”
Before he could berate the operative for revenge missions, the yellow clad man stood, watching his wife come up the path.
She smiled radiantly as he handed her the pomegranate juice, but the envelope burned a hole in his pocket.
Some debts were too great to be left unpaid.
Written for Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers.
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