The man grew restless in the woman's company. She talked to him in a strange tone, one that he knew shouldn't be used for him. Flashes of barked orders, yelling, cold words slipped through his mind; [i]that's[/i] how he was supposed to be spoken to. He didn't know who he was, but he was starting to get the idea that he wasn't a good person. Hell, he maybe he wasn't even a person. People had names; he didn't.

The woman asked if he was hungry. "Yes," He said flatly, not sure why she would ask. She didn't seem to have any food, or at least not that he could see. When asked if he had a name, he shook his head. She offered him a set of plastic eating utensils, which he hesitantly took. The man looked down as one of the boxes was opened. It was some kind of strange...noodles or something. But that wasn't food, not for him anyway. He remembered what food looked like: grey and lumpy. 

[i]Don't eat it,[/i] Something told him,[i] Poison.[/i]

And then the man remembered. He remembered why food was grey and lumpy, and why he couldn't have anything else. 

[i]32 was at the FOH base, working on another project he'd been assigned to. He sat alone in a dimly lit room with a laptop, map, and papers spread out on a desk. Leaving him in charge of mission planning was a fairly regular occurrence, although he still had to run it by his superiors. 32 had been sitting here, memorizing every aspect of the mission, for 13 hours. He was in the middle of assigning the other men their tasks, by writing it down on paper, when the door to his holding room opened. Two young, newly recruited agents walked in. 

"No man, trust me. This'll be great." One murmured to the other. 32 looked up and turned to face them. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen them before, and he wasn't sure why they were there. 
"Hey, Murphy told us to give you something," The man who spoke had a certain mood to him; he seemed very confident in himself. In his hand, he held a red habanero pepper. 32, however, had no idea what he was looking at. The only food he ever remembered was grey and sloppy. He gingerly took the pepper from the man, then looked up at him with confusion. 
"Well? Eat it."
"What is it?" 
"Hey, whoa, who said you were allowed to asked questions? Murphy told us to give it you to eat, so unless you want me to tell him that you're defying orders-"
"No," 32 most certainly did not want that. He looked at the pepper, then, hesitantly, put the whole thing in his mouth. The first few chews weren't bad, until the spicy hit him. His first instinct was to cup his hand in front of his mouth to spit it out.
"No, you have to eat it!" The man said, trying his hardest not to laugh at the shade of red 32's face turned. Tears were forming in the assassin's eyes. It was like trying to eat fire. When he finally swallowed it, he could feel the burn down his throat. At this point, both men began laughing, practically doubled over. 

"He fucking ate it!" The other one said. "What an idiot!" 
"Ha ha! I told you he'd do anything you told him to!" The first one was laughing so hard he was practically crying. 32 quickly got up from his desk and hurried from the room, his entire mouth burning like the flames of hell. He remembered how torn up his stomach had been after that. He was used to eating bland slop, not extremely hot peppers. The two young agents were given a slap on the wrist for 'vandalism of company property', but where otherwise unpunished. Since then, 32 never ate anything that wasn't the grey and lumpy food he was used to.[/i]

The man stared down at the noodles, then closed the box and handed it back. He didn't want it.