The Asset

Sidney

He woke to the sound of berating from another room. A gentle breeze blew over his face from a small fan by his bed.

He reached up and touched the gauze wrapped tightly around his head.

Like a white summer dress. He thought.

As he climbed out of his subconscious, he could understand the berating voice more and more.

"I don't care that he beat up one of your guys," it said, "It was your responsibility to bring him here. You should be teaching your men to be more aware of their surroundings anyway."

He sat up and spots clouded his vision. Through a gap in the spots, he could see a glass of water on the nightstand.

As he drank and the spots started to clear, he heard the door open.

"Sorry about that, John always acts like he's part of the KGB or Mafia or something." Sidney said, sitting on a chair in front of the bed, "I knew I should've had someone else get you."

"It's okay, It just reminds me of all of our missions overseas," he said, "I'm getting nostalgic, really."

She chuckled, "How has it been since retirement?"

"Peaceful," Lance said with a smile, "I've learned how to play the piano, too."

"Really?" She asked, "Are you good at it?"

"Not much yet," he said, "at least I don't scare everyone out of the house anymore."

Her smile disappeared, "I don't understand how you do it."

"How do I do what?"

She looked down and a deep fury rose in her eyes, "How you can live a normal life after what they did to you? Work with them, even? They deserve nothing more than to watch as everything they built burns to the ground."

Lance chuckled gently, "Can't say I disagree."

"Then why do you help them? Why won't you work with us?" Her voice tinged with hurt.

"Because I wanted you back."

She got up from her chair and turned away, eyes red, "Why? You know I can take care of myself."

"Sidney," he said, "you were always the most innocent out of all of us. You seemed to preserve the best of your humanity despite everything we were put through." he stood up and stepped toward the window. Through a gap in the blinds, he could just see the corner of a billboard.

"And now you're working for terrorists," he said,

"We're not terrorists," She said, still looking away, "We're revolutionaries. Only our enemies would think we're terrorists."

As her back was turned, Lance pressed a button on a keychain trinket in his pocket.

"Even if that were the case," he said, "a major commonality between most revolutions is that the regime that comes after is often just as bad as the first, if not worse."

She laughed dryly and turned around to glare at him, "Do you think we're fools who don't understand how people work? We can rule better than any human that has ever lived. We will make this country the greatest empire in history. Rome would look like a disjointed village compared to us."

"But your plan is missing a crucial detail," He said, sitting back down in his chair, "You're still human. You will still be corrupted with power. More so, you would feel superior to them because of your abilities and you would not just crave power but feel entitled to it. Leading is more than being smarter than your constituents."