[ WP ] You 're an exceptionally skilled assassin , doing an interview on your deathbed . Your calling card is making a homicide look accidental or natural . You 're known only by your code name : 20-16

`` Where were we again?'' 
 
 `` Your methods.'' 
 
 `` Ah. Yes. Methods.'' I paused to cough, too weak to cover my mouth. The woman sat several feet away, seemingly unconcerned with any germs I may be spreading. As my breath returned, I was able to continue. `` My methods. I liked to avoid suspicion. Make it look natural.'' 
 
 `` Any why would you want to do that? Would something more straightforward be more efficient?'' Her pen rested on her notepad. She leaned slightly forward, probably to better hear my voice over the hospital's machines. They would be unnecessary soon. I'd agreed to do one last exclusive interview before I'd be unable to speak. But the end was near. I could see that now. I could feel it. 
 
 `` Sure. A gun or knife would be quicker. Easier. Hell, maybe more humane. Lots of people I took care of ended up just like this, wasting away. Never knowing the truth.'' I paused to catch my breath. `` But if you want to be one of the greats, you need to think about longevity. You ca n't have your face seen every time you do a job. Got ta be undetectable. Unknown.'' 
 
 `` Is that why you're only now coming forward? You want to be known?'' 
 
 I coughed again, and got a little dizzy. Not enough oxygen. But I'm able to reply. `` Yes. Now that I'm dying, there's nothing they can do to me. No friends. No family. I always wanted a way out, but now...'' I cough again, almost losing my train of thought. What? Oh, yeah. The interview. 
 
 I looked at the woman, as clarity slowly returned. Her pen still rested on her notepad. `` Where were we again?'' 
 
 `` Revenge.'' 
 
 `` Oh. Right.'' Another coughing fit, loud and wet, seemed to shake my whole body. Dizziness came again, lingering this time. Everything seemed to be turning slowly. As I finished coughing, my head rolled to the side. I can see my clock, and the window. Why was it so late? Why was n't this woman taking notes? Why was I so confused? 
 
 The room continued to spin as the woman rose and approached my bed. She watched my dispassionately as a struggled to breathe. The last thing I saw before everything went dark was her raise her pen to her lips, depressing the top. 
 
 `` This is agent 20-17. It's done.''
