The Assassin's Game

November 30, 2012
With Agent 73 stopping me without a split second to even move, shooting me dead, I continuously spawn in a world of assassins. In the city of London, with a tall clock tower as the background for the city, I, along with several others have been on a quest to hunt down, and kill a corrupt member of parliament. Agent 73 is a prime enemy as well, perhaps more so then the parliament member, Howard Gregory.

Continuously spawning, I think quickly as to how to escape. Shoot? No, my gun shooting without a silencer would wake Howard Gregory from his midnight slumber. Agent 73’s gun has been silenced, as have all members of the security force, “Operation 100” 100 standing for the number of security officials, including Agent 73. With seconds to spare before I respawn yet again, I decide to lurch out at Agent 73, tackling him to the ground, and if possible grabbing his gun, and “disposing” of my threat.
3…2…1. The portal opens and instantly the shots from 73, come at me, but I am too quick, and I tackle 73, watching as his bald, and emotionless head smacks against the cobblestone alley. Within a second, Agent 73’s pistol flies out, landing quite near a gutter. I run past, ignoring 73, leaving him behind, as I dash for the door to Howard Gregory’s apartment building. Once inside, I dash up the stairs, climbing to the top of the building, I stop. Two Agents are in front of the door, either on a normal job, or worse, they are expecting me. Silently I reach for my gun.

“Crap, I left the silencer behind on the street,” I spat in my head.

I lean around the corner, using a small mirror I always have to peek around the corner at the floor. The Agents aren’t budging. They face forward like terracotta soldiers, stuck in place. Operation 100 is comprised of genetically modified soldiers who are the strongest of soldiers, greatest of shooters, and wisest of men. They are the perfect soldier. They are bald and have no facial hair or eyebrows. They have identical faces and wear plain black suits. They never show emotion as that would take away from their sole job, their job of protecting those who they serve.

Going straight to them would be a disaster, and I’d be walking to my death without question, but no matter what, it is vital that Howard Gregory be terminated by morning, if he isn’t he will be part of the passing of a law that infringes on privacy, taking down cybernetic systems such as my employer’s main network. Without that, we do not exist. My company Third Freedom operates out of the United States, from a remote server and headquarters in Las Vegas, some gambling city of which I have yet to visit, as I have lived within England for my entire life. The United States and Britain are working together on this law that will apply to both countries, being equally devastating.

I walk back to where I came, entering a small broom closet. Once inside, I see the ceiling is made up of tiles, tiles of which I can crawl up into to. I begin to climb the side of the janitorial shelf, hoisting myself up and into the dusty ceiling. Once inside, I see the vent system that leads into Gregory’s room, a direct path past the guards. Two bolts keep the vent latched to the large metal tube. I unscrew the screws with a penny, and then quietly lower the vent onto one of the ceiling tiles beside me. As I crawl in, I lift the ceiling tile I previously moved to enter the ceiling, and put it back in place. Finally I turn forward and continue down the vent, trying to make as little sound as possible.

It is dark, nearly pitch black, but the sounds of Howard Gregory snoring, lead me to the source. When I reach the end of the vent, I find that his vent is screwed in from the other side. Thankfully I know a trick. I put my feet on the vent, equally on each side, and then with one push on my left foot, I put pressure, then switch to all my force on the right, pushing again.

The vent budged slightly.

I push again, until suddenly my feet shoot through the vent, hanging out into Howard Gregory’s bed chamber. However the vent lands painfully loud on the wood floor, and instantly Howard stops snoring.

“Who’s there!” exclaimed Howard into the night, leaning over to turn on his bed side lamp.

I crawl back into the vent, quietly.

Howard crawls out of bed, wearing a long nightshirt, and cap covering his grey and white head.

“You can’t hide from me,” he said.

Still hidden in the darkness, I pull out my pistol, afraid to use it, not because I haven’t, but because then my cover has been blown, and this was not a “silent” death as Third Freedom wants. Ever so slowly, my hands begin to shake, trembling while holding the gun.

Suddenly Howard found the vent, laying on the floor, and just as he looked up, my finger moved up onto the trigger. I was still in darkness, and he could not see me.

“SECURITY!” he yelled out.

Without a second, I pulled the trigger, and the bullet flew out of my gun, ending up directly in the middle of his forehead. He staggered back, before collapsing on the wooden floor, beside the grate.

I breathed a sigh of relief.


Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

Site Feedback