Andy Vaccaro's Real Identity

I tap my fingers on the cold iron bench beneath me. I'm at the park—the park Andy told us to meet at. He didn't need to say the name. We both knew exactly which one, and even the precise spot. This place used to be our go-to for updates on his missions or cash handoffs. Familiar ground… but now it feels like enemy territory.

I glance at my watch again. Exactly thirty minutes have passed since Andy ended the call.

Slowly, I slip my hand under my jacket and unclip the safety on my gun. Something's coming. I can feel it crawling through the silence. I'm not an idiot—I know this is a trap. One Andy didn't plan. One he's caught in just like I am.

I sharpen every sense, focus dialed to the maximum. If anything shifts—one breath, one flicker—I'll know. The park is dead quiet. It's 8:25 PM, and the weather's turning cruel—windy and cold enough to peel the skin off your face. No sane person would be out here. But this silence… it's unnatural.

No one comes. Not a jogger. Not a dog. Not even a rat.

My brow furrows. Something's off.

Even if this wasn't a trap, Andy should've shown up by now. In nearly five years of friendship, he's never been late. Not once. Not even close.

I check my watch again. Five minutes late.

Still gripping my gun with my right hand, I slide my left into my outer jacket pocket and dial his number. Voicemail.

I hang up and call again. Still voicemail.

Once. Twice. Three times.

Something's wrong.

I stand up and leave the park immediately. This wasn't a trap—it was a cry for help. Andy genuinely wanted to tell me something. But someone—someone—stopped him.

My walk turns into a sprint. My sprint blurs into a full-speed dash. The world around me becomes a smear as I crank my speed into fighter-jet mode, tearing through the city toward Andy's apartment.

I reach his building in less than a minute—by human time.

No ringing the bell. No knocking.

I kick the door open.

And freeze.

Andy lies on his bed, blood pouring from a gash on his wrist like a crimson river. 

-

I sit on a stool beside Andy's hospital bed.

I managed to call 911 while pressing down on his wrist, trying to stop the blood. The ER doctor said my quick action saved his life. But I know better—I should've realized something was wrong sooner. I blame myself for ever thinking Andy had set a trap for me.

The police have concluded the incident was a suicide attempt. I didn't say a word to argue, even though I know the truth. Even though there was a so-called suicide note on Andy's desk—one that claimed he killed Daniel and that guilt pushed him to kill himself—I know that's a lie. Someone did this to Andy.

It's been almost twenty-four hours since I found him. He still hasn't woken up. Though he's past the critical stage, he now lies cuffed to the bed frame—his right wrist locked in place because of that false confession. I'm lucky the police let me stay by his side at all. They confiscated anything they thought could help him escape and stationed an officer right outside the door.

I take another sip of what must be my sixth or seventh cup of coffee. I've barely left his side—only for quick trips to the coffee machine across the hall or the bathroom at the end of the corridor.

Despite everything going on—despite my urgency to find Jennifer—I can't leave Andy. Not just because I need to hear what he wanted to tell me… but because he's my best friend. And now, I know he's in real danger. Sooner or later, whoever did this to him will find out he's still alive—and try to finish what they started.

"Scott…" I hear a raspy, broken whisper.

I lower the newspaper I was barely reading. Andy's eyes are open.

"Hey, buddy…" I greet him, relief flooding my voice. "Welcome back," I add, a grin breaking across my face.

Andy tries to lift his right hand—and that's when he notices the cuff. "What…?"

"They found your suicide note," I say carefully. "The one claiming you poisoned Daniel."

Andy's eyes widen in horror. "I didn't… I wouldn't… wouldn't…"

"Psst… I know you didn't," I say quickly, glancing at the glass door. The officer who's supposed to be on guard is passed out on a bench outside.

"I have to tell you something…" Andy whispers.

"Relax. You should rest first."

"No! I have to tell you now," he insists, voice raw, eyes urgent. He grabs my arm with trembling fingers and lifts himself slightly off the bed.

"Okay, okay…" I whisper. I gently push him back against the pillow. "But keep your voice low—we don't want the cop waking up."

"I'm sorry," Andy begins, eyes full of guilt. "I've been using you this whole time."

"…What do you mean?"

"I… I work… at the Organization."

"What?!" I blurt, too loud.

Andy flinches but nods weakly. "Let me explain from the start."

And then he tells me everything.

Andy does work for the Organization. That's how he was able to make those fake IDs look so real—the Organization gave him the exact same machines the government uses. They also supplied him with all the tech he needed to create disguises: faux-skin fingerprint covers, temporary Botox facial sculpting, everything.

But unlike me, who wore the silver mask and once lived in the North Wing Tower of headquarters, Andy's level was far lower. He's never even set foot in the HQ. While I answered directly to Madam, the High Seater, Andy had never even spoken to her.

His job was to support low-level operatives. It made sense he never heard any gossip from the higher circles. So, four and a half years ago, when I came to him for a fake ID, he truly had no idea who I was.

Later, when he saw I could take out targets with ease, he got the idea to outsource failed missions to me. Eventually, he became known as the Rebound Guy. His rank climbed a few levels over the years.

Early this year, he heard whispers—the High Seater was searching for her "lost lamb." After gathering information, Andy began to suspect that lamb was me.

"So… I contacted HQ," Andy says, voice hoarse. "To tell them about you. I didn't mean harm, Scott… You have to believe me. I just… I just thought, since you were already in the assassin world, if you really were her lost lamb, then maybe… maybe when they took you back… I could go up with you."

I believe him. I understand. Who wouldn't want a promotion?

"So… you arranged the incident at the airport," I guess aloud.

Andy nods. "Yes. But after that, nothing. No feedback. Since you didn't mention it, I didn't dare ask. I figured I was wrong. That you weren't Madam's lamb."

He pauses, then continues.

"Until one day… this Eastern woman came."

"Lily."

"Yes. Ms. Andrew. She came with another woman—"

"Charlotte."

"No. Charlotte Parkinson is the one who wipes memories, right? This wasn't her. This other woman… she was so persuasive, but in the most annoying way…"

I frown. Another member?

"Anyway, Ms. Andrew asked how you met Jennifer. At first, I didn't want to talk. But that other woman kept underestimating me—talking down to me—and I just snapped. I told her. I told her how you protected Jennifer from an assassin. Then she left, and I didn't hear anything else… until you said Radwansky got help. Then I suspected—it was her. Ms. Andrew."

I nod. Makes perfect sense. Lily knew where I lived. The explosion at Jennifer's apartment was all over the news. All she had to do was track the assassin—or even just the story. Fred could've easily found it.

"Then… about four… no, maybe three months ago, Madam contacted me."

"What did she want?"

"She told me to persuade you to come back. Said it didn't matter if you didn't remember your past—as long as you returned. She promised me a huge promotion… a position inside HQ!"

"But I decided to quit being an assassin," I say.

"Yes!!" Andy's voice spikes. "I was so upset with you! You killed my future before I even had a shot!" he hisses, then sighs in defeat.

"A week ago, Ms. Andrew came again. This time with Ms. Parkinson."

I clench my jaw.

"They forced me to tell them who knew Jennifer. They wanted me to help erase her. I refused. I said no. But then…" Andy's voice cracks. His hands tremble. He covers his face and breaks down. "Then… Daniel walked into the room. Ms. Andrew took off her glove… and just touched him. He turned purple—just collapsed!"

He sobs harder.

"She… she promised to bring him back if I helped her. So I did… I really did!"

"But she broke her promise…" I murmur.

Andy nods over and over, tears spilling freely now. "She said… said I hadn't fulfilled my task. That I hadn't done enough. I told her it was all I could do. But she said no. That wasn't enough. So… so she couldn't help Daniel yet."

His voice breaks again.

"But Daniel… he… he couldn't hang on. At first, he was still breathing. But then… that day… I found him. Cold. Not breathing. He's dead!!"

Andy's wail is raw, full of grief. It rips through the room like a storm of agony. His mourning is loud, guttural, impossible to suppress.

He sobs for ten minutes straight—grieving, gasping, shaking with the loss of the man he loved.

Then, voice trembling again, he continues. "When… when I threatened Ms. Andrew… I said I'd tell you everything… she…"

"She slit your wrist," I say softly, finishing the sentence for him. He breaks down again.

Lily would've done it anyway. Threat or not. I'm sure of it. I also believe poisoning Daniel wasn't part of the plan. She probably didn't mean for him to die. But now that he's gone, she needs a scapegoat.

"I'm sorry, Scott… I'm so sorry… I never meant to hurt you. Or Jennifer. Never."

"I know," I whisper, rubbing his back to soothe him. "I know…"

Andy cries silently for over an hour, until he has no more energy left… and finally drifts off to sleep.

-

I jolt awake when my cheek hits the cold iron of the window frame. My body aches from sitting too long on the stiff stool. I stretch, trying to shake the soreness out of my limbs, then glance at my watch. 11:23 PM.

It's the day after Andy told me everything.

Since then, the police have forbidden me from staying inside his room. They were ready to transfer him to prison the moment he regained consciousness, but the doctor intervened—said Andy still needed to be monitored for another 48 hours. Reluctantly, they agreed to keep him in the hospital a little longer.

I stifle a loud yawn and decide to head to the toilet to wash my face. The cop guarding Andy has just returned from refilling his coffee.

I figure I might as well relieve myself, even though I don't feel the urge. Afterward, I wash my hands and face. I scoop cold water in my palms and splash it up from my jawline to my hairline, exhaling loudly. Trying to shake the weight off my chest.

A thought of Jennifer slips into my mind—and worry crashes down on me instantly.

My hands ball into fists. My legs twitch to move. Of course, I could harden my heart and leave Andy behind to look for her. But even if I did, I have no clue where Lily is hiding.

She definitely doesn't live at the Andrews' residence anymore. Ever since we became Royal Knights, we moved to headquarters. And yesterday, Thief told me her bodyguards still notice suspicious activity around her dorm—someone's searching for her.

That means Lily knows she targeted the wrong person.

Now she's hunting the real one.

I close my eyes and murmur, "Please… take care of her."

People call it a prayer. But if it is… to whom? I don't know God. I wish I did.

I sigh and reach to turn off the faucet.

Then—I hear it. A click. Metallic. Sharp.

Shit.

Someone just locked the bathroom door from the outside.

I sprint toward it. No hesitation. I don't even try the handle—I rip it from the doorframe. The metal comes off in my hand with a snap. I burst out of the restroom, and without wasting a second, I ignite my speed—shifting into fighter-jet mode as I tear down the hallway toward Andy's room.

The entire hallway feels frozen in time.

A nurse stands motionless, like a statue. The cop is still, staring blankly at Andy's room—his eyes wide but lifeless, like something's seized control of him.

And then I see her.

Lily.

She's standing beside Andy's bed, her left hand still pressed against his chest. Her index finger lifts gently from his skin, and I see his chest stop rising.

No!!

I slam into the room with everything I have. Rage ignites in my veins.

"You!!" I grab Lily by the shoulder and hurl her into the wall with bone-cracking force. Blood spills from her lips, but I don't care. I'm done holding back.

My hand clamps around her throat. I choke her with everything in me. Her mouth opens—gasping, twitching—gurgling for air.

"You… you… better… help… him…" she rasps, voice barely more than a breath.

"After I kill you!" I snarl, tightening my grip.

But suddenly—he's there.

Bruno.

He appears behind me in a blur and yanks my arm off Lily's throat.

"Bruno!! Don't you dare—"

"She's waiting for you," he says calmly.

Then—he disappears again, taking Lily with him.

Gone.

Just like that.

@@@@@ AUTHOR'S NOTE@@@@@

Long chapter this time. Did you expect about Andy being a part of the organization ? If so, at which chapter ? Please let me know in the comment :*