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I could feel my communicator buzzing in my left breast pocket as I strolled through downtown Archea. My intent to ignore the call was secondary to my need to finish my assignment. To say that I didn't have time for this was putting it lightly. In the last year of working with the Agency I have put down at least twenty hits, most were a standard procedure of tracking and killing, but this one was different. My target, a woman who was a newer member of the Syndicate, at least for now. My brief had stated that she had been embezzling money through a series of contracts in order to build up her wealth. Apparently personal growth and success in the organization known as the Syndicate, a group of business class criminals was a no no.
    The hardest part of tracking this woman was that she bore a resemblance to my sister, Kara. I had seen a holographic display of Ms. Taggert and it had caused my blood to turn cold...briefly. My programming had kicked in and dulled the personal attachment that I was associating with my target which would allow me to focus on the task at hand. To kill her.
    Downtown Archea was alight with activity, the solstice festival was underway which was a week long celebration that had roots to our earthly beginnings. I'm not sure of the significance, but it gave most people an opportunity to lay back and consume copious amounts of alcohol and opiates. The party atmosphere was both distracting due to the sights, as well as making it hard to find Ms. Taggert, whom may or may not be dressed in festive costumes like most of the people in the square.
    "You see anything?" my associate Thom asked as he appeared from behind the shadows of an overhang. He was fresh out of training and had been assigned to me as my protege. Mentoring in the Agency was something liken to a big brother program for at risk youth. It was designed to serve a noble purpose, but most mentors misused their authority and destroyed the relationship between themselves and their fellow policemen. I felt a responsibility to do things differently, though. Perhaps it was part of my consciousness that was still intact from before the brain washing known as programming.
    "Nothing, You?" I asked, more as a way of reassuring the fact that he had done everything in his power to track our target. Sometimes a question that you fail to ask yourself can be the difference between turning over all of the stones, or just turning over the wrong ones.
    "No, sir," he said. " I even took the opportunity to survey Pontiff White's Palace to see if he had any guests," The possibility of White taking an opportunity to host a lovely woman in his Palace was not out of the question, though given the fact that he was little more than the Syndicate's puppet made me wary to think that he had the audacity to aid a fugitive. He was usually the first to know about hits filed through the Agency, unless of course he was going to be the target.
    "Very well, let us go back to Taggert's home. Maybe she will be returning soon," I said as I shoved my hands into the deep pockets of my uniform jacket. The gauntlet on my right wrist made it a tight fit, but I was used to it.
    "Are you sure? She most likely knows about the hit by now," Thom said with concern shown upon his face. I could tell that he was going to take failure personally. It was just a part of the programming he received as a prospect of the Agency. I had the same reactions early on in my career, it was a notion that dulled over time, but would never really go away.
    "We don't have much choice," I assured him as I turned to walk back to her apartment. It was an unusually large complex in a luxurious tower that overlooked the Archean Sea. Thom followed me the five blocks towards Taggert's home in silence. It was rare for two policemen to engage in work conversation in public due to the sensitive nature of our work, the strategic killing of political targets, targets assigned by the Syndicate and carried out by policemen who worked