I sat in the corner of the concrete room I was kept in. Cold and dazed, I almost didn't notice when the guards threw a boy about my age into the cell and slammed the door. The first thing that caught my eye was his arms. The eight short thick lines scattered across each of his forearms, near the elbows. Just like me.
"Welcome to hell, kid," I said. "Name's Eight."

《☆》

"This is our stop, isn't it?" The boy nodded to the sign out the bus window.
"Yeah, it is." Eight sighed. "C'mon."
"You never told me where we're going."
"I'm trying to encourage you to ask fewer questions. Not keeping your mouth shut can get you killed in this line of 'work'."
"Okay, well I won't talk if you tell me what's happening."
Eight stopped walking and turned.
"Fine. We need guns, I know a guy who has guns, he gives us guns, we shoot someone with the guns, we give him back the guns, he makes the guns disappear. I'll do all the talking unless he speaks directly to you." Then she continued walking.

After a while the pair approached a food truck. When they got within ear-shot the truck, they realized the owner was yelling at a random man.
"Hey! Hey mate! Yeah, you! You look pretty hungry! 'You want a burger? I make the best burgers!"
"Sammy! Is business really that bad?" Eight shouted, pulling the man's attention away from his would-not-be customer.
"Eight, hey! I'm just trying to make ends meet, you know how it is." Sammy shrugged and disappeared into the back of the truck.
"Sam! Buddy! Mi casa es su casa! All you gotta do is contact my employer, mention my name, maybe sprinkle in a little 'Hail Hydra.' and you're set for the next year!" Eight said, leaning against the truck. "It's no big deal!" Sammy reappeared out a door on the other side of the truck.
"And that's why you're my favourite customer!" He smiled, but his face faded into curiosity when he noticed the boy. "Who's the scrawny kid? What happened to that hot little thing who was dragging you around?"
"That's two different people. Five was the guy who was dragging me around, but he's been dead for a year or something now. Nine was the... uh... 'hot little thing' you're thinking of. This is..." Eight turned the boy. "You're Twelve right?"
"What?"
"On your wrist." She pulled up her jacket sleeve to reveal a tattoo that featured the text SLV8-8.2P and the Hydra symbol.
"This is why I'm called Eight."
He rolled up his sleeve to look at his tattoo; PTR12-8. "Oh, um, then yes. I'm Twelve."
"Alright! Twelve, Sammy. Sammy, Twelve. Now!" Eight clapped her hands and then held out her arm. Sammy grabbed her forearm and they were both silent for a moment. Then Sammy blinked and gave his head a small shake like he was waking up from a dream.
"Ah! I got just the thing for you!" He exclaimed, then he disappeared back into the truck. Once he was gone Twelve turned to Eight.

"What was that?"
"Huh?"
"The whole arm thing."
"Oh! That's my 'gift' from the serum. If I touch someone I can essentially talk to them through their mind, among other things."
"Can you do it with me?"
"Might as well, good to have undetected conversation tools." Eight reached out and pinched a bit of bare skin on Twelve's arm.
"Hey!"
"Hey yourself dickhead." She thought to him. Then Sammy reappeared with sniper rifle and an extra package of bullets, he handed them to Eight. She checked the scope and them smiled at him.
"Yes, I think this will do... well, not nicely but..." she trailed off. "Thanks Sammy. You know the drill. If all goes smoothly I'll see you in a couple hours."

《☆》

"That building should be easy enough to get on top of." Eight pointed to a abandoned apartment complex across from the small café that was their target. As the two climbed the stairs, Twelve spoke up.
"Did you volunteer to be an experiment?"
"Don't think so, but the serum makes things fuzzy so there's a very unlikely chance I did. Why?"
"You seem so calm about all the killing."
"Well as bad as it sounds; you get used to it after a while."
"How long is a while?"
"I've been a couple years. Maybe three or four. I just do what I have to to survive here."