All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
Redemption at the White House
47 climbed up to the rooftop and paused for a moment to catch his breath. Disguised as a worker, no one would guess who he was. He opened his suitcase and began to assemble his sniper. From here, he could get a clear shot. He was tired and couldn’t wait to go back to his apartment. All day, he had worked to get this worker costume; he wasn’t going to let this opportunity go to waste. After setting up his gun, 47 checked the time. He had twenty minutes left before the VIP arrived. He settled down and spat out his gum. Then he decided it would be better to silence the sniper. He did so and sat down again. It was a beautiful night and there was a full moon out, but for some reason, the night seemed grim to 47.
Agent Cooper grimaced at the sight of the body. Seeing dead bodies was a part of his job, but he still wasn’t quite comfortable with it. For some reason, the body had been stripped of clothing and all that was left was underwear. Cooper recognized the dead man; after all, they had met only yesterday. Yes, Cooper was sure it was Van Hudson, a worker in the plant of Mr Reese. After calling a pickup van for the body, Cooper began to look around. To his surprise, he found a neatly folded black suit in the corner of the room. Suddenly, it all came to him in a flash: the suit probably belonged to whoever killed Van. Nobody except workers were allowed inside the White House, now that it was being remodeled. The killer must have wanted to go inside or near the building. Cooper stepped outside and started walking towards
the White House. It was a beautiful night and Cooper couldn’t help feeling a sense of excitement.
47 was now getting that feeling of tenseness that he got before all his contracts. Ten years of contract killing, and he still wasn’t comfortable with it. The idea of murdering for money had never entered his mind till he had gotten out of Harvard. He had been an innocent child and teenager. He used to get all A’s and was the star football player in his school.
But slowly, after graduating, 47 had felt that his life was boring. He had wanted that thrill, that exhilarating sense that he was getting right now. Also, contract killing was getting him good money. Even right now, he was getting paid $5000,000 and this was a pretty straightforward mission for a man like 47. Surprisingly, 47 wasn’t an extravagant spender. He led a quiet life in a two- bedroom apartment. He didn’t have a car, as he relied on public transport. Anyway, a car would be a huge hassle. 47 mostly spent his money on getting better equipment, as it was very expensive. Even an ordinarily pistol cost a lot these days.
Other than equipment, 47 didn’t need to spend a lot, as his diet mainly consisted of milk and bread. He needed to be in top physical condition, as a single fault in his missions could get him killed. 300 pushups and a 10 mile jog everyday were a part of his daily routine. Occasionally, to reward himself on a successful mission, he would eat outside. 47 didn’t have any hobbies except reading. He didn’t have a big social or love life. 47 realized that no woman could love a contract killer. But he was fine with all this, because being a hit man would require sacrifices, as every job does. Overall, 47 loved his job. 47 checked his watch; only five minutes left...
Cooper explored all areas of the White House, but couldn’t find anyone.Being an FBI agent had never been his passion, but it got him through life. Actually, Cooper had been a peaceful boy when he was little. He used to read books and obey his parents. His dad was a member of the SWAT team and wanted son to be one too. Cooper easily got the job due to his father’s influence. However, Cooper had resigned after a month; SWAT was way too violent. His dad had become angry and forced Cooper to do some law enforcement job, so Cooper became an FBI agent. It was still violent, but relaxed. He often had other guards with him. Being an FBI agent was fine with Cooper. Suddenly he realized that the killer could be in the basement or rooftop. Cooper sprinted towards the basement.
47 looked through the scope of his sniper. The limousine was approaching the garage. The president and Mr Reese got out. Reese had been abusing 47’s client in public. Time to fix him up once and for all. 47 took aim...
Cooper went up the fire exit stairs towards the roof. A s soon as he opened the door, he could see a man with sniper clearly in the moonlight. Slowly, Cooper sneaked up behind the guy and took out his Wolfram pistol. He jammed the tip against the sniper’s head.
“Ho Ho Ho. Looks like Santa’s come early this year,” muttered Cooper.
47 grimaced. This was a major setback. He put down his sniper and turned around. An FBI agent was standing with a pistol lingering at his face.Now 47 would have to think of something else.
“Put down your weapons, please,”ordered Cooper. 47 obediently took out his uzi and silenced silverballers and laid them next to Cooper’s feet. He still had a combat knife and a garotte wire, but didn’t take them out. Cooper took out a mini metal detector.
“Got anything else to surrender before I check?”asked Cooper. “If you have anything that you didn’t surrender I’ll shoot immediately.” 47 had no choice but to put down the knife too. He didn’t take out the garrote wire, as it was made of fiber and rubber, and couldn’t trigger metal detectors. Cooper checked 47.
“Okay, you’re clean. Put your hands up.” Cooper said in an alarming tone. 47 did as he was told. Cooper took out a walkie-talkie and started talking to the Chief of Defense. Apparently, the Chief was going to send a pickup van for 47.
“I’ll have to think of something fast,” thought 47. Suddenly, he realized his sniper was right behind him. An idea came to his head in a flash.
“Can I sit down?”asked 47. “I’m a drug addict and I get dizzy every hour or so. Cooper looked at him. “Sure, but don’t try anything funny,” was Cooper’s reply. 47 sat down.
In a fluid motion, 47 took the sniper and pointed it at Cooper. “Seems like you’ll be the one putting your gun down now, Mr....?” asked 47.
“Cooper. And what’s your name?” asked Cooper.
“Call me Bob.,”said 47. Now, to be safe, 47 got up and smashed Cooper’s walkie-talkie. The two men stared at each other, guns in their hands.
Cooper grew stiff; who would fire first? Then, suddenly, the hit man shot him right in the head. The last thing Cooper remembered was that he fired a shot before collapsing. Why, what had he ever done to deserve this? This is the reward he got for being a good, law abiding citizen? Everything faded to black...
47 clutched his stomach in disbelief. A burning sensation filled his body. He couldn’t die. It was too late to complete the mission. The White House security would be here any minute. Quickly, 47 took off his clothes. He ripped up his shirt and wrapped it around the bleeding chunk of flesh on his abdomen. He stuffed his suit into his bag and dressed up as the FBI agent. Finally, he retrieved his equipment and dumped the FBI agent’s body in a dumpster. A subway station was right next to the White House. 47 quickly jogged there and steeped into a train. It was empty; who rides the train at 11:30 at night? 47 sat down. As the train started rolling away, a tinge of remorse went through him. He was not a good man.