Mission Complete

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Action and Adventure  |  House: Booksie Classic

So, you wanna be a secret agent? How's this for a first assignment? Just, don't be fooled...there may be more to this story.

Please feel free to leave genuine comments. If the story sucks, I want to know. If you like the story but the writing is terrible, try to explain that, too. There are no bad comments! Unless, of
course all you say is, "This is dumb!" but don't explain why...you get it.

Thanks, alot! A.E. Scott

Submitted: October 10, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: October 10, 2017



He swirled the auburn liquid around in his glass, watching the ripples circle in a methodic, hypnotic rhythm. The opulence of the room was mind blowing. Unable to believe he was here, shoulder to shoulder with the rich, the powerful, the elite. That's how first assignments go, he guessed. The hard part was blending in, finding the right person. The easy part was killing him.

A speaker approached the mic at the front of the room. His suit probably cost more than my first house, designer, custom fit. Expensive didn't describe the watch he was wearing, nor the shoes. He spoke with an eloquence that sounded natural but more likely practiced over the years, refined and regurgitated on one group then the next. Perhaps he was just an actor and this was just another paid gig. Nobody here knows. Nobody cared. They just stood there enraptured by his smooth voice and smooth clothes. They hold their drinks up and laugh at all the right moments, entertained. I play along.

A man stood at the edge of the group. He held a drink, but the glass was warm, no condensation like everyone else's. No ice. He scanned the room. I had to nudge the woman next to me, smiling at her, acknowledging the talented speaker. Her eyes sparkled and she smiled, nodding her agreement. She's a perfect stranger. The man at the edge of the group looks right past me. I'm one of them, invisible.

The speaker finished. Everyone claps and begin to part, returning to their previous conversations and sub-groups to await the guest of honor. I move around the room, making pleasantries with those I pass. They're so drunk they don't even know they don't know me. But my target is in my sight. He does the same. Moves as I do. Circles the room. Who is his target I wonder? The guest of honor presumably, but it would be a mistake to presume. A deadly one.

But then he moves close, behind a woman. The same woman I used to evade his attention. Could she be...? Surely, no. She turned into him, a confused look on her face. I must act quickly. He spoke to her in whispers and her face changed. The sparkling eyes sobered and grew cold as they stared into his. I was close. Her neck reddened with menace. She must be his target. But not his victim. I am there. I am...


The man codenamed 'Venice', turned and met the man advancing on him. Met him with the pointed end of a dagger.

The surprise in the rookie's eyes changed to knowing. He'd been played. Spy vs. spy and he had lost. No good guys or bad guys only winners and losers, all doing their jobs. A job of life and death. Not of their own, but for a thousand others, millions even.

Venice held his victim close and walked him to the edge of the room and deposited him behind a dark curtain. No one saw. The woman with sparkling eyes had taken a drink and was now unconscious on the floor. A crowd of people all around her.

The man moved through the crowd, a mask of concern on his face, until he reached the exit and vanished into the night.


© Copyright 2018 A.E. Scott. All rights reserved.

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