09-03-2023, 08:49 PM
Mission 883 was the last one I faced without moral qualms. Eight hundred and eighty three missions before my conscience kicked in. Eight hundred and eighty three targets eliminated. Eight hundred and eighty three people dead. By my hands.
By now the number is upwards of a thousand. Unfortunately my moral qualms have not helped me actually stop killing. Six years I’ve slaved through everything. Shed a tear with each body. Of every mission I’ve ever faced only one, 883, has lived. At least for now.
•••
January 17th, 2017
Mission 883 - Lily Nils
Target: Andreas Holgersen, rogue Zongongian journalist
Target is attempting to investigate deeper into LarinRilarin Labs, home of the Jackie Project. Asset must be kept secret at all costs. Interlopers must be eliminated in secret. Body cannot be found. Zongongian government cannot be alerted. Cover story must be developed to halt investigation.
You have three days.
Eliminate.
•••
Poor Mr. Holgersen wasn’t the first Zongongian I’d been asked to take out. At the same time, I’m not sure I could tell you the names of a single one. Such is the life. In the back of my mind, I’d felt the dying stages of my conscience for many years now. To be able to kill so many people and not remember a single name is scary. There is no world where that can be considered moral. Not in war, not in peace. But I’d ignored it for years, right? Why stop now?
Our poor Zongongian friend was a reporter. A little extra research told me he’s been sent by the Zongongian Gazette, a well respected Zongongian media outlet, on the health beat. A little inferring had told me he’d looked just a touch too deep and stumbled across something our “great” leaders didn’t want him looking at.
I arrived at his cabin at noon, the house I’d been told he was staying in. The job was simpler than usual. Kill him, bury his body in the woods, leave no trace. The rest was up to the story riggers. They’d find some reason for him to have disappeared and that would be that. All done.
The house, unfortunately, was empty. It wasn’t an uncommon experience in this line of work but it did mean I had to sit in a freezing cabin in the woods until I could shoot the man in the head. Damnit I just really wasn’t in the mood. Boredom set in quickly and I spent some time surveying the house. It was a nice cabin honestly. Secluded, dark but not lonely, full of all of the homely furnishings of a place well cared for. I remember wondering at the time how a foreign reporter had even scored such a place. I also remember putting it on my list of potential houses to buy.
Eventually I stumbled across a manila folder. It was laid out haphazardly on the mantle to the fireplace. Inside it, several pages of documents, pictures, writings, and half-finished articles lay in no particular order.
It’s funny to think that boredom, at the end of all of it, is what made me change my life. Not a desire to do better or a need to save lives but simple boredom. And, of course, Andreas Holgersen.
The folder contained information. More information than I could’ve ever dreamed of. Government secrets, projects, ideas, spy networks, everything. I was so immersed in reading it all that I didn’t even recognize the opening of the door as Andreas returned home.
“Good stuff, eh?” he mused, sipping from a mug with one hand and pointing a peashooter at my head with the other
My hand immediately shot to the gun on the side table before I heard the cock of his gun and put up my hands above my head, resigned.
“Shoot me if you wish. Don’t miss, you’ll be dead in a second.” I said, my eyes cold
It wasn’t the first time I’d had a gun to my head obviously, and damnit I’d survived it a hundred times before.
“That’s why I’m not planning on shooting it.” He said, “At the end of the day I’d say we both want the same thing, wouldn’t you? Neither of us want to die. Let’s negotiate.”
“Wait. I have a better idea. My job, as I’m sure you’ve guessed with the whole gun and breaking into your house shtick, is to kill you. Given what I’m reading right now, I’m guessing both of us know exactly why.” I replied, gesturing to the papers spread on the table in front of me
“Yeah.” he said in reply
“I want to join you.” I said
“Bullshit, you just said you wanted to kill me.”
“No, I said it was my job to kill you. After reading that, the last thing I want to do is kill any more for this government.” I explained
“You must know how suspicious that sounds. I may be young but I’m not stupid.” he replied
“How do I get you to believe me? This is the most incredible piece of investigative work I think I’ve ever seen, without any connections in government as far as I can see. I work for the government, the secret branch at that. You can’t possibly pass up on an opportunity for that kind of inside information.” I said
“Sure I can. You’re a trained killer. The moment I put this gun down I’m getting a bullet between my teeth.” he said incredulously
My response came in the form of one foot slashing to the side, flipping the table on its side. My gun slid across the room and papers flew about in a flurry.
“There, now I can’t get my gun anymore.” I said, gesturing toward my gun across the room
“And how do I know you’re not carrying anything else?” He asked
“Oh I totally am. Would you like me to strip as well?” I asked, “I can do a million things but you’ll never know I can’t kill you. It is, after all, my job. But here’s a question for you. Do you think you can handle this job alone? Do you think you can take on the government like this and live? I know there’s a voice somewhere in your mind that knows you won’t make it on your own. So it’s up to you. Kill me, right now, and another agent will be sent in my place. Or, let me join you and you’ll be as safe as you can possibly be under the circumstances.”
He was silent for a moment but I could see in his eyes he knew I was right. If it wasn’t me, it was someone else. If it wasn’t them, there’d be another. I was his only chance to be able to investigate in secret and probably his only chance to live at all.
“Fine.”
And just like that, both of our lives changed. Officially he was dead and the mission was complete. I sent photo evidence back and they spun a story. And the next day I went to work like every day before. But every night I would sneak to a remote cabin in the woods and continue working my real job. Until now.
For the first time in six years, that cabin is empty. For the first time in six years, I haven’t had to kill someone this week. For the first time in six years, my life is in immediate danger. And strangely, I wouldn’t trade any of it for a second. It sounds cheesy worded that way but one wonders how long they could’ve killed for the system before they themself became a part of it. Andy was my savior in a way. My last chance out of a life that was corrupting what little morality I had left. And at the end of the day, we might change the world. Isn’t that incredible?
By now the number is upwards of a thousand. Unfortunately my moral qualms have not helped me actually stop killing. Six years I’ve slaved through everything. Shed a tear with each body. Of every mission I’ve ever faced only one, 883, has lived. At least for now.
•••
January 17th, 2017
Mission 883 - Lily Nils
Target: Andreas Holgersen, rogue Zongongian journalist
Target is attempting to investigate deeper into LarinRilarin Labs, home of the Jackie Project. Asset must be kept secret at all costs. Interlopers must be eliminated in secret. Body cannot be found. Zongongian government cannot be alerted. Cover story must be developed to halt investigation.
You have three days.
Eliminate.
•••
Poor Mr. Holgersen wasn’t the first Zongongian I’d been asked to take out. At the same time, I’m not sure I could tell you the names of a single one. Such is the life. In the back of my mind, I’d felt the dying stages of my conscience for many years now. To be able to kill so many people and not remember a single name is scary. There is no world where that can be considered moral. Not in war, not in peace. But I’d ignored it for years, right? Why stop now?
Our poor Zongongian friend was a reporter. A little extra research told me he’s been sent by the Zongongian Gazette, a well respected Zongongian media outlet, on the health beat. A little inferring had told me he’d looked just a touch too deep and stumbled across something our “great” leaders didn’t want him looking at.
I arrived at his cabin at noon, the house I’d been told he was staying in. The job was simpler than usual. Kill him, bury his body in the woods, leave no trace. The rest was up to the story riggers. They’d find some reason for him to have disappeared and that would be that. All done.
The house, unfortunately, was empty. It wasn’t an uncommon experience in this line of work but it did mean I had to sit in a freezing cabin in the woods until I could shoot the man in the head. Damnit I just really wasn’t in the mood. Boredom set in quickly and I spent some time surveying the house. It was a nice cabin honestly. Secluded, dark but not lonely, full of all of the homely furnishings of a place well cared for. I remember wondering at the time how a foreign reporter had even scored such a place. I also remember putting it on my list of potential houses to buy.
Eventually I stumbled across a manila folder. It was laid out haphazardly on the mantle to the fireplace. Inside it, several pages of documents, pictures, writings, and half-finished articles lay in no particular order.
It’s funny to think that boredom, at the end of all of it, is what made me change my life. Not a desire to do better or a need to save lives but simple boredom. And, of course, Andreas Holgersen.
The folder contained information. More information than I could’ve ever dreamed of. Government secrets, projects, ideas, spy networks, everything. I was so immersed in reading it all that I didn’t even recognize the opening of the door as Andreas returned home.
“Good stuff, eh?” he mused, sipping from a mug with one hand and pointing a peashooter at my head with the other
My hand immediately shot to the gun on the side table before I heard the cock of his gun and put up my hands above my head, resigned.
“Shoot me if you wish. Don’t miss, you’ll be dead in a second.” I said, my eyes cold
It wasn’t the first time I’d had a gun to my head obviously, and damnit I’d survived it a hundred times before.
“That’s why I’m not planning on shooting it.” He said, “At the end of the day I’d say we both want the same thing, wouldn’t you? Neither of us want to die. Let’s negotiate.”
“Wait. I have a better idea. My job, as I’m sure you’ve guessed with the whole gun and breaking into your house shtick, is to kill you. Given what I’m reading right now, I’m guessing both of us know exactly why.” I replied, gesturing to the papers spread on the table in front of me
“Yeah.” he said in reply
“I want to join you.” I said
“Bullshit, you just said you wanted to kill me.”
“No, I said it was my job to kill you. After reading that, the last thing I want to do is kill any more for this government.” I explained
“You must know how suspicious that sounds. I may be young but I’m not stupid.” he replied
“How do I get you to believe me? This is the most incredible piece of investigative work I think I’ve ever seen, without any connections in government as far as I can see. I work for the government, the secret branch at that. You can’t possibly pass up on an opportunity for that kind of inside information.” I said
“Sure I can. You’re a trained killer. The moment I put this gun down I’m getting a bullet between my teeth.” he said incredulously
My response came in the form of one foot slashing to the side, flipping the table on its side. My gun slid across the room and papers flew about in a flurry.
“There, now I can’t get my gun anymore.” I said, gesturing toward my gun across the room
“And how do I know you’re not carrying anything else?” He asked
“Oh I totally am. Would you like me to strip as well?” I asked, “I can do a million things but you’ll never know I can’t kill you. It is, after all, my job. But here’s a question for you. Do you think you can handle this job alone? Do you think you can take on the government like this and live? I know there’s a voice somewhere in your mind that knows you won’t make it on your own. So it’s up to you. Kill me, right now, and another agent will be sent in my place. Or, let me join you and you’ll be as safe as you can possibly be under the circumstances.”
He was silent for a moment but I could see in his eyes he knew I was right. If it wasn’t me, it was someone else. If it wasn’t them, there’d be another. I was his only chance to be able to investigate in secret and probably his only chance to live at all.
“Fine.”
And just like that, both of our lives changed. Officially he was dead and the mission was complete. I sent photo evidence back and they spun a story. And the next day I went to work like every day before. But every night I would sneak to a remote cabin in the woods and continue working my real job. Until now.
For the first time in six years, that cabin is empty. For the first time in six years, I haven’t had to kill someone this week. For the first time in six years, my life is in immediate danger. And strangely, I wouldn’t trade any of it for a second. It sounds cheesy worded that way but one wonders how long they could’ve killed for the system before they themself became a part of it. Andy was my savior in a way. My last chance out of a life that was corrupting what little morality I had left. And at the end of the day, we might change the world. Isn’t that incredible?