Joyce tried to get the answer out of The Soldier, asked and asked repeatedly. She tugged on his sleeve like a child.
"Kill you. That's my job." He finally said.
"Kill me?" Joyce shrieked.
"Yes, I'm sorry." He said.
It took all of Joyce's will power not to punch The Soldier in the face.
Then came a knock on the door.
"Hide." The Soldier said.
Joyce ran behind the couch and The Soldier opened the door. A hand reached in and snatched him away.
"James!" She accidentally shrieked.
She ran to the door, and a black cloth was placed over her eyes, and a hand was shoved over her mouth. A few minutes later, she was tossed into the back of a truck. The cloth was removed and she was face-to-face with The Soldier. His hands were tied up, and so were his feet. Her hands and feet were tied up, too. Joyce glared at The Soldier.
"You better be glad my hands are tied up, jerk." She spat.
"Look, I wanna keep you safe." The Soldier sighed.
"Why now? Why not when you tried to kill me?" Joyce's voice was raising to a yell, he cheeks red with anger.
"Because, you helped me remember." The Soldier admitted.
The doors to the trunk opened again. An older man with reddish hair reached in and grabbed The Soldier's arm. He yanked him out of the trunk and the doors closed. Joyce whimpered, she was alone now. She struggled to free her hands from the ropes. She spotted a knife right before her feet. She scooted along the floor of the trunk, and finally grabbed it. It was tough trying to hold it right and not cut herself. She did gain a few cuts, but nothing more. Then the doors opened again. This time, another man had opened it. He had black hair, spiked up. Patches of it were missing, and he had a mask on. He had burns on his hands, and those same hands grabbed Joyce's neck and tossed her onto the concrete. Joyce let out a groan of pain, and frustration. Another man walked up, he had short black hair, too. He had a nametag that read, 'Agent Grant Ward.'