Prologue

If you looked at me with no knowledge of who I really am, I would appear to many to be a normal person, with raven black hair, and being of an average height, a regular citizen who has a little more muscle than most men my age. I’m 22, by the way.

Now, this isn’t the case, as I’m a rather special individual for many reasons, namely, I have completely red irises, I am a master of every martial art known to man, and I work for a secret government agency. As you can tell, I am far from normal, but these things aren’t the only things that set me apart.

I am, unfortunately, completely, and undeniably, insane.

I know what you would say, that if someone acknowledges that they might not be completely sane than they still have a semblance of morality, but I disagree.

I lost my sense of morality long ago.

It is as my master said, “the only difference between man and beast is the morality of the man.” When I was age 12, I graduated from my master school for aspiring agents, and began to train myself to keep my morals in check. My master said that morals may divide us from the beasts, but someone with too strong a conscious won’t be able to do what needs to be done.

I will not speak of what I did during the four years that I worked to weaken my morals, but suffice it to say that it was a blood soaked four years. On my sixteenth year, I went on my first mission, to Iraq. Over the flight, I carried no weapons. Of course, on an area as confined as a plane guns and the like would only slow me down.

Once I arrived, I met the other field agent, who was a little surprised to find his reinforcements to be a single 16-year-old boy. However, once I gave him a quick spar, his doubts were no more.

He quickly equipped me with all the equipment that I would need. Frag, high explosive, and incendiary were all the grenades that he outfitted me with. I was also supplied with a deagle, dual magnums, and an ak47, as it was the most common weapon on the market, so I would be able to blend, at least to a small extent.

With perpetrations complete, we began the mission. My partner set up on a roof at the end of the road that the operation would take place on. He had also set up remote detonated c4s on the road, to take care of any heavy vehicles. As the time to set the plan in motion was nearing, I scouted out the convoy, and found that in addition to the 3 standard light desert jeeps, there was also a tank, and a Mercedes Bens, which looked way out of place, compared to the rest of the vehicles in Iraq.

I opened the radio frequency to my partner and said, ”Mission objectives spotted. Begin when I give the call.” The pre-prepared signal was a flare, shot into the air. We would avoid using the radios as much as possible, as others could listen in on our plan, and my master always said, “it does not matter how tough an opponent may be, if you can anticipate his moves, he will be helpless before you.”

Different colored flares indicated different things. Red would indicate personnel removal, green was to shoot the tires of the vehicles and stop them. Yellow was an indication to activate the c4 underneath the road.

As the convoy came roaring into the town, I shot up the green flare, and he immediately shot out the front tires of the jeep in front. When the vehicles came to a stop, I had already shot up the yellow flare. An immense explosion was triggered beneath the tank; which was at the back of the convoy. Now the three other vehicles were trapped between their own vehicles. I shot up the red flare, and the first of the people in the convoy to stick their head out of the window to check what was happening ate a bullet. Literally.

I took out an incendiary and took out the pin. I waited 2.6 seconds, then threw it into the house to the right of the road on which the convoy was pinned. 0.4 seconds later, a wall of flames engulfed the house and sidewalk, denying them the chance to evacuate from the exposed position and find cover in the terrain. I took out my other incendiary and repeated the process with the houses to the left of the convoy. Meanwhile, my partner was taking out any who attempted to see what was happening.

With a quick look, I saw he had made 7 of them casualties. I took out a high explosive, waited 2.8 seconds, then hurled it underneath the second jeep. Which promptly exploded. I took out my other high explosive and did the same with the third jeep. Now all that was left was the Mercedes. Perhaps, if I was into cars I would have admired it, but right now, it was just an obstacle to my objective.

I shot it with my ak47, but the windows were made of an incredibly tough glass, and from what had happened when a few of my bullets had gone astray and barely scratched the paint, it looked like they had an extremely hard, and probably expensive, steel alloy completely covering the car. I thought for a moment as to what to do, but I knew what had to be done. My mission was simple. Destroy the convoy, till only dust remains. And leave no survivors. 2 simple objectives.

As fast as I could I descended down to street level, and shot off the white flare, signaling that I would take care of the rest. Approaching the vehicle I took out my magnums and cocked their hammers. As I reached the window, I could see the minute scratches that were made by my machine gun. However, that was from 6o feet away, and with a relatively inaccurate gun. I took my magnums, put them up to the window, and pulled the triggers. The slugs bounced off of the glass, but left some respectable craters in the so called ‘bullet proof glass’ I cocked the hammers again, and repeated the process. Now there was only a thin vein dividing me from mission success.

I took the desert eagle out, and shot through the window, shattering it. Now that the windows were destroyed I could peek in. there was the driver, who had my desert eagle’s bullet in in his skull, then there was a bodyguard in the passengers seat, and in the back, I saw a young lady, dressed in the strangest clothes I had ever seen. Seeing the man in the passengers seat pulling out a glock, I aimed my desert eagle and pulled the trigger, shooting him through the heart. The lady started screaming, and I shot her in the eye as quickly as I could. And with that, I had completed my mission.

When I got to the airport, before I had the chance to get out of the car, I received a call. “I see that you have completed your mission. Now, dispose of the evidence.”

“As you command.” I said this emotionlessly, and turned to my partner, took out my silenced pistol, and plugged the bullet in his ear. Then I took a high explosive grenade from his bag, and got out of the car, leaving the door open. As I walked away, I took the pin out and threw it over my shoulder into the car. As I strolled away, I could feel the heat of the explosion on my back. I felt a little sad that I had to dispose of my partner, as he was rather amusing, making puns at the slightest opportunity. But the commands of the agency must be carried out. On the flight back, I composed a ballad to the puniest partner I have ever had. Of course, he was the only partner I had ever had, but that wasn’t important.

Four more years passed, I kept accomplishing my missions to the letter, only retreating when it was impossible, and my reputation within the agency was starting to reach new heights. From the time when I turned twenty to the time I reached 22 I was constantly under threat of assassination, both from my enemies and from my collogues, who were envious of my status, for whatever reason. For these two years I was constantly attacked, poisoned, near shot, and almost crushed by falling objects. My vehicles almost always blew up the moment my would-be attackers thought I got into them. It got to the point that I had to learn how to hotwire, and from then on I always took a random car so that a pre-prepared bomb wouldn’t be the end of me.

I was saved the first time because I paused just outside of the door to answer a call, and at that moment my car exploded. I went away with many burns and lacerations that day, but I quickly went back to completing missions. Multiple times my collogues tried to backstab me, but each time ended with them dead and with me walking away unscathed.

During the last few, however, I usually added a scar to my growing collection, as the attempts got more and more cunning, making it harder to survive each one. Until, finally, on my 22nd birthday,(at least, what my master had told me was my birthday) I received a mission. “You will receive further instruction when you arrive at the operations area.”

When I arrived, preparations were well under way. As I went up to the supervisor, he said “aaa! You must be the famous agent, ‘silent death’ that I’ve heard so much about! You’re younger than I thought you’d be, but no matter! You will be protecting this package as it travels to the airport, then escort the carrier to the client. Be carful, as you will almost definitely get intercepted on the way their.

“Understood.” Was all I said.“What equipment do I need?” was all I asked.

“Equipment? Why, of course! You can’t protect a package if you don’t have equipment! Here, take your pick.” Saying so, he led me to a room labeled, ‘armory’ and revealed a room full of top grade weaponry, as I walked through I looked at the wear on the weapons and found none, meaning that these were brand new, not having been used before. I took an m16 and 2 desert eagles, along with 4 uzies, an army grade grenade launcher, and a bag filled with high explosive grenades. Once my preparations were done, I donned my sunglasses that I had gotten myself for my birthday and headed out. For the mission, there were 2 BMWs and an armored car that would transport the package and the carrier.

I got into the front BMW, and took the passenger seat. Once I was in, the supervisor gave the signal, and we moved out. At first, it was quiet. The houses passed in silence, and the 3 people in the car with me were apparently intimidated by me, which was understandable, my reputation, the sunglasses, and the dark suit that I had taken as my uniform were all things that made me intimidating.

My thoughts were interrupted by an R.P.G., as luck would have it.

I was unhurt, mostly, because the rocket had come from the driver’s side, and because my body was many times harder than my partners. Of the driver, nothing but a scorched stain was left, of the two in the back, the one on the drivers side, or the left side, had shards of metal and glass imbedded all over his body. The one directly behind me was unconscious, probably from his head hitting the window from the force of the explosion.

I tried my door, and it seemed to be bent shut, I had to kick it a few times, further warping the metal, and on my third kick the door flew off of the hinges. As I got out, the first things that grabbed my attention was that the BMW that was behind the armored vehicle had also exploded. This seemed to be a coordinated attack, well planned and well carried out. I saw the telling signs of explosive traps in the buildings adjacent to our convoy, and I could barely make out a sniper high up in the window of the building at the end of the street, where the turn was. I had a slight feeling of deja’ vu, it seemed that they had planned for everything. However. They didn’t plan for one thing.

ME

I took out the grenade launcher and loaded up a high explosive, took aim, and shot out the window with the sniper in it. I turned, sprinted to the armored car and took cover. A second later and explosion could be heard, and pieces of shrapnel fell. I was protected by the car, but shrapnel was the least of my worries, as I saw shadowy figures beginning to appear from the smoke of the car I had recently been riding in.

As their outlines became better defined, I holstered my launcher and took out my m16, and flipped up the sights. All this was accomplished in a smooth, machine like motion.

I took the safety off, and finally, took aim.

“One.” I said as my first shot went off, knowing it was a hit before I pulled the trigger. “Two.” Was all I said as the second figure fell. “Three” as the figures continued to drop, the ones who weren’t hit ducked down, trying to conceal themselves. A futile endeavor, as they were caught out in the middle of

a road and an expert marksman picking them off one by one. Another shot sounded. “Four.” Bang!

“Five.” Bang! “Six.”

Abstractly, I thought that it was strange that they would be so incautious as to send in men down the middle of the road, “Seven” especially after their plan had seemed so well coordinated. “Eight.”

Then, I noticed the lines running through the air. “Nine.” They wiggled a little bit. Must be something heavy attached to the end to cause a line pulled that tight to move so much. “Ten.” My suspicions were confirmed, as men began zip lining down them. “Eleven.” I turned away from the road, where the only people I ignored were corpses. I waited patiently while setting down my rifle and pulling out two of my uzies, and as the ‘heavy attachments’ came flying out of the smoke on near invisible lines they were met with a hail of submachine gun fire.

“Twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty.” The nine men who trusted their superiors plans met their ends at my hands. Just like so many before them.

The immediate threats having been dealt with, I turned to the armored vehicle and gave it a casual knock, and said into the speaker on the side, “all clear.” The door was slowly swung open, and out came two men in suits and ties, with a thirteen-year old. I showed no surprise, as I had dealt with things more surprising than this. I simply waited for orders.

It looked like the thirteen year old was in charge, and it told me in a voice that had an impressive tone of command, “Continue along the route until you find a suitable vehicle, then bring it back and you may escort me to my destination. Move quickly!” my objective said in a voice that brooked no argument. I nodded my head in acknowledgment, and ran along the route the convoy had been pursuing until we had been interrupted. Once I turned the corner, I saw the vehicles one through eleven must have used to get here.

I quickly and efficiently mad a quick check for remote detonated devices that could be planted on the underside of a vehicle, and ran my fingers along the rims to see if their were any sort of tracking device. Once I had confirmed that the vehicle was in no way dangerous, I took out the keys that had been kindly left in the ignition. It was a smart thing to do, if one through eleven had needed to get away in a hurry, they would not have wanted to have to fiddle with a key while they were being shot.

As I drove the white van up to the trio beside the now destroyed armored car, I popped open the door and got out of the drivers seat, waiting for my objective to get safely into the car. Once the objective was in, and one of its bodyguards in the drivers seat. I followed the objective into the back and waited for further instructions.

As I looked at my objective silently, it started to look uncomfortable, and started to fidget, which looked strange, for one who, moments ago, had the confidence to order me without hesitation. After five minutes or so, it finally looked over at me and said in an annoyed voice, “do you mind?” it said this with a peeved expression, and looked like it was ready to punch me, which made me further impressed with its bravery.

“I do not understand your question, what would I ‘mind’?” I said this in a calm, emotionless voice, and at that same moment my objective shivered visibly, and I wondered if it was cold, I did not want my mission to be delayed by my objective getting sick. So I once again spoke in my regular voice, “Is your body temperature lower than healthy? If it is, I can acquire additional articles of clothing to help stabilize your temperature.” I decided that I should clean my grenade launcher while it looked like there was no sign of hostiles, so I took out my grenade launcher.

For some reason, it paled to a nearly pure white color and raised its hands quickly and franticly waved them to add emphasis while it said, “No! No! I don’t need any clothing!”

“Are you sure? Your complexion is pale. You may be experiencing shock, and in that case you will need

first aid.” I said this as I took my launcher apart and took out a rag and began cleaning out the barrel and firing mechanisms.

For some reason, when he saw that I was just cleaning it it relaxed its tense muscles and regained color in its face. “That won’t be necessary. Just escort me to the airport.” The tone of command had returned, and it once again spoke with confidence. I briefly wondered what had caused it to have its confidence shaken, but quickly dismissed such thoughts.

---

“As you wish.” was all the man said, while continuing to clean his grenade launcher While still looking at me. I wish he would stop looking at me like. When I see that look, its like I’m not even a person, just an objective that must be protected. It was down right creepy, but to accomplish such a high position in such a short time, while also starting at the ridiculous age of seventeen, he must be an amazing person. At least, that was the earliest age that he was documented to have accomplished a mission. So much about him was shrouded in secrecy, like his real name, who his parents were, where he was raised, how he was trained, even if he had a girlfriend! After his cleaning was finished, he took out his two uzies and his m16 and began disassembling them, then cleaned them too. He did so with a machine-like efficiency, all the while looking at me from under those sunglasses.

It felt kind of awkward inside the van, and I felt the need for there to be some kind of noise besides the occasional squeak from the man cleaning his gun. And so, I asked a simple question that I thought would be a good icebreaker, (and I really want to know the answer) “What’s your name?”

He slowly looked at me, and for a second I felt so intimidated that I could hardly breath. “Would knowing my name help the mission?” he said this in his chillingly emotionless voice, and I had to suppress my shivers, so their wouldn’t be a need for a second conversation about my health.

“W-well, it might, you never know.” I tried to say this cheerfully, but all he did was look at me, and all I could think was oh gosh, he’s going to kill me, I just know it however, much to my surprise, he said, “In that case it’s-“ BOOOM

Our car flipped over, and it scared me quite badly, so that all I could think was, well, that’s one question answered, at least I got to hear his na- and then I realized, I didn’t hear his name. AHHHHHHH!

My thoughts broke apart as I felt strong hands haul me out of the wreckage of what I could only assume was the van we had been up until this moment been riding in. I looked up at the face of my savior, and any gratitude I felt dried up quicker than water in the desert as those cold, hidden eyes stared back at me. I then promptly fell unconscious.

---

After I pulled it out from the wreckage and made sure it was breathing, I pulled out my uzies and turned to the direction of the attack.

We were in front of a liquor store, and regular citizens were either running away screaming or staying still in shock. What had upset the van was probably a grenade, thrown from the side, and as I surveyed the area where the attack had come from, I saw 3 pure black BMWs were right alongside each other in the parking lot.

Even as I watched, 12 men got out of the vehicles and took out various firearms. Attacking in the middle of a crowded street suggests supreme confidence in their own ability to fade from media and peoples memories, which also means that whatever organization they work for is powerful, as powerful as the agency.

I emptied my clips in their general direction, which was unexpected, as uzies are at most mid range weapons, and at that distance they were extremely inaccurate. Shooting at long distance was like betting on roulette. However, the sound of shots triggered the men to duck for cover, and not stride arrogantly up the road. Ignorant arrogance was one of the few things that truly annoyed me, and it seemed that all the people in this particular organization had an abundance of it. I then pulled out my m16 and flipped up the scope, turned the safety off, and attached a silencer. I then sprinted into the store, opening the door quietly.

As I approached the door that led to the parking lot I stealthily made my way along the wall, and peeked through the door to see if any of the would-be assassins had noticed my entrance to the building. When I saw them peeking over their cover at the place he had previously occupied on the road. At this point, I allowed one of the few facial expressions I had to manifest, in the form of a grin, and if any of the attackers had seen this grin, then they would have immediately run as far away as they could. It was scarier than any weapon, more sinister than any nightmare they had ever experienced, and the grin told them the absolute truth, that none of them would survive this encounter.

As he took aim, he was already taking count. The one farthest from the liquor store suddenly started spouting blood, and they could all faintly hear a voice, as if by magic, start counting.

“Twenty-one.” the man to the right of his now dead companion fell with a hole in his neck.

“Twenty-two.” And the one to the left of him.

“Twenty-three.” “Twenty-four.” “Twenty-five.”

One by one, their companions fell, accompanied by the chilling counting, and all of them felt the icy hand of death closing around their heart.

“Twenty-six.” “Twenty-seven.”

The remaining five looked around in fear and alarm, but no matter where they looked, they couldn’t find the source of the deadly shooting, and they unconsciously tried to group together, thinking that they would be safer in a group. As their backs touched, they heard a clinking noise.

“Twenty-eight.”

They all turned around slowly.

“Twenty-nine.”

They all saw the same thing, but it didn’t register for a second.

“Thirty.”

There was a grenade, sitting in the middle of their huddle.

“Thirty-one.”

And they all felt a deathly silence emanate from the road, where the pedestrians were all long gone, and their screams were heard no more, and the only noise they heard.

“Thirty-two.”

Suddenly stopped.

And that one second before the voices prediction felt like a lifetime to each of these men, and they blew up, still wondering who had been counting.

Only those who are already dead hear the counting.

---

“owww..” my head. I wonder what happened? As I slowly gained consciousness, I was able to look around and find out were I was. When I looked to my right I saw a window and quickly moving scenery.

I was in a car, and at the speed I was moving I was probably on the freeway. When I looked to my left, I had a sinking feeling, and I saw that sunglass clad man sitting behind the stirring wheel. At first, I tried to hide, and pretend I was still asleep, but he noticed and nodded to me. Which, out of all the things he could have done made me the maddest. “Is that it? Are you gonna just sit there and ignore me? Cause if you are, I’m going to punch you.”

As I looked at it, I was stuck once again by its bravery, not only in the midst of battle, but also when facing an unknown and dangerous killer. It was afraid, I could see that, but it was suppressing that fear, and my respect for my objective was rising all the time. “I have never ignored you. My only focus for this entire mission has only been you.” I said this matter-of-factly. And for some reason, its face went red when I said that.

“O-oh…” I never thought of that. I just thought he was ignoring me. I can’t believe he said that! Stupid sunglasses.

Wait, why am I acting like this. I’m acting like a Japanese schoolgirl! This is unacceptable. My father always told me that I must be his heir first, and daughter second. Getting flustered wouldn’t do any good. Even if he was good looking.“It’s still rude to not respond when I’m talking to you.”

“I see, I will follow your orders to the best of my ability.” He said this humbly, with no sign of rebellion.

This exasperated me to no end. “At least stand up for yourself! You’r not some robot without feelings or emotions! At least tell me to shove off or something! The way you just take orders makes me so mad I just wanna… gah!” Her outburst was met with no show of emotions.

“Shove off.” He said this with a straight face. His lips didn’t so much as twitch.

For a second, I was so shocked that I hardly breathed. His reputation claimed that he followed his orders to the letter, but this was like he really was a robot. “You… really are what you seem, huh.”

“Yes.”

“You really are a stupid old man.”

“… Why do you say I’m old?”

“Well, you don’t listen to any music, and you talk way too formally.”

“Well, how do you want me to talk?”

“Again! Why do you bow so easily, at least defend your own way of speaking! You irritate me so much!”

“I irritate you because I’m being respectful?”

“Yes.”

“… Then tell me way not listening to music makes you old.”

“Well, there’s a perfectly good radio right in front of you and your just driving in silence, it’s like you

don’t even know how to use a radio.”

“I wanted it to be quiet so that you could rest.”

Its face suddenly got crimson, and it looked away.

Stupid old man, talking like he was giving a speech. Being so considerate.

It tuned to me and said, “Why are you wearing sunglasses? All the reports say that you don’t wear anything on your head.”

“I got them for my birthday.”

“What?! When was it?”

“Today.”

It sat there shocked for a second, then it screamed again. “Why are you doing missions on your birthday?! Can’t you take one day off?! It’s like you don’t even have any emotons! I mean, seriously!” it was quite red at this point, and had gotten so caught up in its rant that it didn’t even realize that we were pulling off of the free way.

“That may be, but I was raised to be efficient. Things that don’t pertain to missions are worthless.”

“So, after this I’ll be worthless too?”

When I looked out of the corner of my eye, I was reminded of a sad puppy.

When I looked at it, I couldn’t say yes, so instead I told it no. “I will remember you, you are one of the bravest people I know.” This made it happy, I don’t know why. It’s only the truth.

“Hey, I have a joke. Guess what it is.” It said this mischievously. And I got a bad feeling about this.

“I have no clue, what is it?” I felt a sinking feeling.

“What should you take on a trip to Afghanistan?” that evil smile was still on its face, but nevertheless, I asked it.

“What?”

“A boat. Because if you fly back you’ll crash into a building.”

“…”

“Well? What do you think about it?”

“If I told you you’d punch me.”

The look on its face was priceless, and for the first time I could remember, I let myself have a smile that wasn’t because of violence, but honest amusement. “You.. STUPID SUNGLASSES!” and proceeded to slug me in the arm, which didn’t hurt at all, but I let out a small grunt to make it feel better. It nodded its head in satisfaction, and said. “That will teach you to insult someone who’s trying to lighten the mood with a few good natured jokes.”

“The only thing that’s good natured about you is your clothing.”

When its face turned a quick succession of colors, I couldn’t help the largest grin I had ever felt show on my face.

“AHHHHHHH” it yelled this as it snatched my glasses and smashed them on the dash. “THERE! TRY AND

LOOK THROUGH YOUR STUPID GLASSES AND GRINNING AT ME NOW!”

At this, I couldn’t help it.

I, dubbed silent death by my employers because I maintained a strict silence at all times, was helpless with laughter.

I laughed so hard that my sides ached more than during my training. Through all this, it looked so incensed its face seemed that it would permanently stay that perfect shade of red.

Eventually, I was able to stifle my newfound laughter, and speak in my usual voice, admittedly, though, it still held a subtle teasing note. “You know, those glasses cost over two hundred dollars.”

“That’s your problem. If you wanted to keep them, you should have taken better care of them, and not unnecessarily risk them by provoking volatile young women.” It said this as though it made perfect sense.

“You admit that you’re volatile?”

“N-no, what makes you think that! I was just speaking generally.” It was still blushing, but it had regained most of its composure.

New to this ‘conversation’ thing, I decided to let it off the hook, and sat in silence, though my lips still twitched, and every now and then a smile threatened to break through. It sighed, and started to talk.

“Haaa… stop holding back, I can tell your grinning. At least grin to my face.” I stayed silent, and quashed the amusement from my face. After some time, it finally said, “A-anyway, I’m, uh, I mean to say, that. um,”

It was stuttering, but it stopped and took a deep breath. “What I mean to say is that I’m sorry for breaking your new glasses. Oh, and happy birthday.” It said the second cheerfully, and I was struck speechless for a second. It had apologized to a subordinate, and even wished me a happy birthday. Not only was it brave, clever and thoughtful, it was considerate.

None of my training had prepared me for someone so genuine, so innocent, even though it had witnessed death and atrocities, it still held this level of decency. Frankly, I had never been one to believe in religion, but right now, I felt that I was looking at the face of an angel.

“What? You have a funny look on your face.”

It looked genuinely concerned for me, but I just smiled, which was feeling more and more natural, and said,

“Nothing is wrong. Nothing at all.”

Of course, that was when everything went wrong.

I pulled into a gas station, and set the nozzle to the gas. Then I walked in to pay, and took it with me, so it didn’t leave my sight. I opened the door, which revealed the counter to the left, and a variety of shelves holding the regular products for a gas station. When I turned to the counter, I felt something graze my ear. When I took a closer look, I saw that the man behind the counter was holding a gun, and had a stain of blood on his face, which I presumed to belong to the real cashier. I took out my desert eagles and shot him in the face, before he had the chance fire a second shot. ”Thirty-three.” Turning had saved my life, but it wouldn’t save me a second time.

When I looked at the shelves, I saw that they were trembling.

I shoved it over the counter and quickly followed it into cover. As I vaulted the counter, three gunmen had surfaced from behind the shelves. I ducked behind the counter and heard the bullets ricochet off of the counter and lodge in the wall above me, showering me in plaster.

I put my eyes above the counter and took aim, but their shooting forced me to duck again, and this time I peeked around the side of the counter, and shot one in the leg. He fell with a scream, and his companions turned toward him, but one would never witness his fall.

“Thirty-four.”

As his two companions fell, the last man standing ducked and I heard him yelling into his radio, apparently calling for reinforcements. If that were the case, things were bad, I had to get out, now.

I emptied one of my desert eagle clips into the shelf and ran towards the door to secure it.

“Thirty-five.” But as I was looking out the door I saw that the reinforcements were here. They probably hadn’t put all of their men inside so that if things got hectic they wouldn’t have the high probability of friendly fire.

A smart move. However, them being intelligent was bad for me. I retreated back to the counter as the glass doors were shattered by gunfire. When behind the counter I reloaded my desert eagles and took out my m16. The first man to come in though the doors like an idiot became blind. And dead.

“Thirty-six.”

The second was more cautious, and blindly shot into the building without looking before dashing towards the nearest cover, one of the shelves previously occupied by his companions. However, the second he stopped shooting blindly, I took a peek and shot him through the throat as he was running.

“Thirty-seven.”

At this point, a brief ceasefire ensued, as they looked for a way in without getting gunned down, and I looked for a way out. Honestly, the situation was one of the worst I had ever faced. But not the worst. I had faced things much scarier than being surrounded by armed gunmen. As I feverishly thought for a way out I heard a groan, and it slowly sat up. “what’s going on?” it asked dazedly.

“Nothing. Go back to sleep.”

It was shocked fully awake as the back door was busted open, and I heard footsteps come from the back of the store, which was away from my line of sight. I took aim and waited.

It quickly grasped hold of the situation, and assumed a crouching posture similar to mine. As the first peaked around the corner I did some free dental work, and he fell.

“Thirty-eight.”

When the others saw the bravest of them fall over, they started to mutter among themselves. Seeing my chance I stepped out of cover and took out a grenade.

Time seemed to slow down, and I saw my mistake.

It was a stupid thing, really.

It could have been easily avoided.

The man I had shot first, the one I had hit in the foot and then forgot about.

He had a look of victory on his face, as he pulled the trigger.

I looked at the slowly spinning piece of metal that spelled my doom, and thought that I was incredibly

stupid for someone so intelligent.

It wasn’t arrogance. It was the truth.

I was smarter by far than most people. My IQ had nearly reached record heights.

And my physical side was among the top in the world.

And as I saw that slowly spinning bullet, I had one clear thought.

All of these things, my abilities, my training, my mind, my achievements, everything that I had ever

accomplished or sought in my life, all of it was useless against that bullet.

It was heading toward my heart, and it would hit.

Nothing within my power would stop that bullet.

This was my death.

I vaguely wondered what number I’d be to my slayer, but these thoughts came to an abrupt, and tragic

end.

I didn’t die.

But it did.

It stepped in front of me, and took the bullet through its chest. As it fell, I mechanically aimed and shot

the man who had spelled my end.

For a second, I was shocked. I forgot to count him, and instead looked at it.

It, which was braver than I could ever hope to be.

It, who looked at me as a person and not as a tool.

It, who told me a joke and then got mad at me for not laughing.

It, who broke my glasses and said sorry, like I was a human being.

It, who looked at me and saw someone to be cared for, someone that I had looked at countless times

in the mirror and saw nothing but worthless flesh.

No. No. No. No. NO. NO. NO. NONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONO

Not it. NO

Not that. NO

NOT IT. SHE

NOT MY OBJECTIVE. HER

NOT A MISSION. A PERSON. AN ANGEL.

And she was bleeding on the ground, because of me.

Because of my arrogance.

Because I was stupid.

Because I saw her as an object, something to be protected, but not treasured.

And I felt something that I had never felt before. Hatred, anger, I wanted to TEAR THEM TO PIECES. I looked at her, and I felt her reach up to me. I bent down. She said to me,

“I never managed to *cough* introduce myself. My name is Silica. Nice to *cough* meet you. What’s your name?”

I looked at her, and for the first time in my life, someone had asked my name, not out of curiosity, not so that they could find weaknesses in me, but because she wanted to now me.

And for the first time in my life, I felt something wet on my cheeks. It dripped down onto her face, and I bent down to her ear, and told her. She smiled, and simply said.

“It’s not as *cough* impressive as I thought it would *cough* be.” She looked at me and tried to cheer me up even as she lay there bleeding.

“I’m not a very imaginative person.” I said jokingly while smiling through my tears. She smiled back as the life slowly drained out of her. I had known her for less than a day, but she was closer to me than my master ever was.

As I slowly stood up, I felt something else new. A kind of coldness, a chill, an experience that made me feel weird. I don’t know what it was that triggered it, but I think that having the only person I cared about dead at my feet, and having her murderer and his companions just a few feet away from me, while still breathing, made something snap.

Something broke.

I don’t know what, but suddenly, any wound I received seemed like it would be trivial. All I cared about, now that the only person I cared about was dead, was making them pay. And it didn’t matter who. As long as they weren’t dead already, and as long as they could scream, I would make them pay.

I took the pin out of the grenade with my teeth, and tossed it to the wall where I could hear breathing. I could hear them because I wasn’t breathing, and my heartrate was slowing. When someone tried to kick the grenade away, I shot their food off. Then it exploded. I walked away from the counter and the only person that I had ever cared about, and found that they were still breathing. I didn’t bother to count. I just shot them. I wondered why I had cared so much about assigning numbers to the men I killed. After all, they weren’t valuable enough to have numbers.

I heard footsteps coming from the front and more men burst through the broken doors. I didn’t bother to count them, I just shot them with my rifle until it ran out of bullets, then I took out two of my uzies and kept shooting. I received wounds. my side started bleeding, and my right ear was shot off, but they didn’t hurt.

A round hit my kneecap, and I fell. But I kept shooting. My leg was barely attached to my body, but I kept shooting until my clips were empty. By this time, the first wave was annihilated. I dropped my uzies and pulled out the other two. Then I waited for the second wave.

When they came in, they were surprised that I was on the ground, and I killed many of them before they had the chance to react. When they did, their shots were badly aimed, and merely chipped the ground next to my face. The chips lodged in my left eye and effectively blinded me.

When they were all dead, I kept shooting their dead bodies until the triggers clicked, meaning that my guns were empty. I had a little more time than before between waves, so I stood up. Dying while lying down seemed too shameful, so I stood up and took out my desert eagles. When they arrived this time, they had riot shields, and it became apparent that they were trying to capture me alive now, since I was so wounded.

They probably thought I was no longer a threat, and they could gain valuable information about the agency from me. “That’s bad manners, when some ones trying to kill you, you should at least respond in kind.”

I said this while twisting my face into something that constituted as a smile. Then I took careful aim, and even though my left eye was blind I still had my sharply honed instincts. I shot the foot of the lead shield barer, and when he dropped his shield to cradle it, I shot him in the head. Then I shot the men behind him, and repeated this process until I had emptied my guns. I tried to reload, but a bullet pierced my left arm and I dropped the pistol in my left hand. At this, I threw my now-empty desert eagle in my right hand at the oncoming men. When they saw that I had no weapons, they rushed at me with batons. I took out the knife I keep in a sheath on my chest, and cut the throat of the first one to reach me.

When they kept coming, I used my left arm, which was already useless, to nock away their weapons, then I slashed their throats.

One, two, three, until six of them were choking on their own blood. The leader, at least I assumed he was the leader, saw that capturing me would cause too many casualties, and having accomplished his main goal, the assassination of the agency’s heir, he gave the order to shoot me. Then he screamed, as I had thrown my knife into his eye.

We both went down in a cloud of blood. Me, with bullets ripping through every inch of flesh I owned, and him with a knife in his face. I smiled as I fell, and as I did, I saw the fear I had inspired in my enemies. And on the ground, bleeding from countless bullet wounds, I laughed.

In insanity.

In pain.

In amusement cause one had gotten so scared he peed himself.

I laughed at myself.

It felt like up until this morning I had been moving through life like a dream, not really caring what happened, just being driven by my loyalty to the agency.

And finally, because I finally gotten the joke Silica had told me.

It was hilarious. Immensely offensive, but still funny.

“Ahh, I would *cough* have liked to hear more of your *cough* jokes.”

And with that, I felt the darkness closing in. I slowly let sleep take me, and had the sensation of floating, of going higher than the clouds. It felt amazing, almost like flying. And I laughed. It felt like I had finally awoken.

“Which is ironic, since your dead.”

End of Prologue