All In A Day’s Work

After a long, hard day of destroying an entire enemy outpost, killing almost 45 men, Agent N1218 sat in the back seat of the truck which was part of a large CIA convoy. All returning from a successful infiltration, thanks to one man.

War had become a natural reality. Governments, as we know, were becoming totalitarian by the day. Democracy was long gone and so was the UN. Almost every week or so, a new country used to announce that they had adopted a military rule in a desperate attempt to protect their civilians. Or at least whatever was left of them after the great war.

Agent N1218 was battered and bruised. He sat with his face in his arms, bent down and lifeless. Next to him sat his supervisor who he knew as TN223. He knew all the people he worked with by their badge numbers. He was trained that way. He had forgotten his own name too. His mind now had one purpose and one purpose alone. To kill people. TN223 was his supervisor who was responsible for his training and operations. She was always watching him and observing him so that there are no unwanted ramifications of his powers. She was responsible for training him every day, pushing him to the limits of his physical and psychological capabilities.

“You ok?”, she asked placing her hand on his shoulder with a remote hint of compassion.

“Yeah. All in a day’s work right?”

“All in a day’s work.”

The Stargate Project had been reinstated by the Federal Government and the CIA had total authority over the operations. CIA had mastered the art of weaponising the human mind and N1218 was their most ambitious and powerful operative yet.

The convoy stopped at a massive CIA installation which was hidden away from the rest of the world in a deep, remote desert. Apart from the people who worked there, you could count the number of people who knew of its existence in one hand.

The truck which was carrying TN223 and N1218 stopped right next to the closed vestibule which led to his chambers. TN223 opened the door and assisted him to get down. He put his arm over her shoulder and crawled through with her pulling him forward as much as she could. TN223 opened the lead-lined door with her palm prints.

He went inside his chamber. Less of a room and more of a crucible where he could hibernate until he is called again. Just enough space for him to sleep, an entertainment system with carefully curated programs and music so as to make sure his mind doesn’t get altered in any way. He threw his body onto the bed. His shoulder hit the white, padded wall.

“Take rest for now. You did good today”, TN223 reassured.

He smirked, knowing that he had killed 45 men just hours ago and thousands altogether.

TN223 closed the metal door behind her.

Agent N1218 lie on the bed with his eyes wide open, reminiscing of that fateful day, which changed his life and subsequently the course of the war.

“I need you to go back inside and shut the door! Don’t ask me why”, shouted his mother.

A small army of men in black suits barged through the door and she loaded the magazine onto her handgun.

“Tell us where he is and no one gets hurt”, said one of the agents.

“Get the hell outta my house!”, she shouted, swaying her hand and pointing her handgun to the whole lot of them.

Time was of the essence to the CIA and they did not mess around. Two men came around the side of the home and shot her through the kitchen window. They took the boy and forced him into their truck.

“Package secured”, one agent whispered into his radio.

Agent N1218 was almost asleep when TN223 stormed into his chamber, moments after she had left him to take rest.

“You’re needed. Come on”, she demanded while gasping for breath.

He stood up, reluctantly and stretched his arms.

“All in a day’s work”, he said to himself.

All in a day’s work.

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