Her target wore Armani. She winked at her partner, he returned it; they were ready for the kill.

She fell into character and slumped to the ground. Her target rushed to help, while her partner, whistling, snaked his hand in and out of the target’s pocket.

She smiled sheepishly, thanked the target, and hurried to her partner. But his face was sour and the wallet was empty. She sighed and hugged him. She cursed herself for bringing him into this world to suffer. She patted his hair and spoke:

“I am sorry. Tomorrow, after the elections, we continue your training”.

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