"You have everything in check, correct?", asked my supervisor.

"Yes.", Thorne replied.

"I know you have a story with him but try to do it carefully, you know how it went down back in Moscow."

"Yes, I know. I will never forget how he made a fool of me on my first assignment.", Thorne said bitterly.

"I remember the time I handed you down your first assignment." he chuckled. "You were so uptight back then." he said with sad reminiscence.

Thorne's breath got caught in his throat for a moment. But the man continued.

"Anyways, you've grown out of it. Now, you will have two week to finish the job. Go get your phantom nemesis." he said and the secure call software cut out, automatically closing itself in few seconds.

Uptight was always a word Thorne did not like to be described by, as a spy you always tried to look as genuine as possible. But he cleared his minds from the old worries and thought that any agent real or fake would be nervous on his first assignment.

The file was on his laptop screen, proudly displaying Anatoly Kuznetsov in his assignment list. He knew exactly who it was, and knew where exactly he was. He smiled wryly, lines on his face feeling strange. He remembered those days with sad sense of reminiscence, KGB days and his homeland those were all so distant now. Anatoly Kuznetsov was his old identity in KGB working as double agent, feeding the KGB all he could find. Now, however he was Darren Fletcher and he felt like he was truly him. Old memories seeping into his mind, it felt like Anatoly was actually a seperate person.

Think.

All the gears in his head moving like a well oiled mechanism, he went through ways he could bury Anatoly well under the earth, never coming back to haunt him again. This was his country now and KGB days were over, he had stopped sending information about 10 years ago, and that was 15 years after KGB had been supposedly over. He knew he wasn't Russian anymore, at least not in his heart and this country contained all his life, his wife and two daughters. Fake the hit, send the information he decided. Textbook, simple way were always the best especially with cases like Anatoly who had next to no information.

Eight days later

France, he couldn't remember how many times he flied out here on a mission. Thorne took out his oversized travel bag from the baggage carousel. Fixing his cap to straight position and walked out of the airport he caught a glimpse of his appearance on a huge mirror. Thorne looked exactly like any foreign traveller albeit someone with an air of living on the road for some time. Orange shirt