chapter 4

It had been five years since he had walked down 17^th street. He scratched his silver hair, wishing it was longer for cold days such as now. To be more specific, he was in the park on 17^th and Constitution Ave with the National Mall just in sight. It was now evening, and the meeting was to take place soon. The silver haired man sat down on a bench and took a deep breath, remembering the old days back in the Secret Service. There were two types of Secret Service Agents. The less known were the ones that went after crimes against the Treasury, the reason why they originally formed. It wasn’t until 1901, when President William McKinley was assassinated, that the Secret Service started protecting presidents. Starting out in the Marines, it was clear the silver haired man was meant for bigger projects. He was transferred to the Secret Service in 1981 and three months in, Regan was shot in the chest. It was a wakeup call, he had to always keep his senses up, because any moment the President could die. Training himself to notice anything that didn’t feel normal, he practically formed a sixth sense. He learned secrets about Regan, Bush, and Clinton and how they handled politics. And after serving for 15 years, he had seen just about every disaster possible. It was time for him to get out, and for the next ten years, everything was peaceful. One night he walked home to feel something very wrong. Maybe it was too quiet, or maybe one too many lights were turned off, but something set off that sixth sense of his.

Opening the door to his massive house in the city of Minneapolis, he paused to notice it was too dark. Where was Lauran? He felt for the light switch and turned it on to find blood everywhere on the floor. He let out a horrid scream and before he knew it, someone right next to him hit him in the temple. The silver haired man fell on the ground and took a beating from three men in the room. He knew what this was about, he was being sent a message. But why did it have to affect Lauran? After being kicked around for five minutes, he was able to see the man who was behind it all. That fat ass, he had no right to do any of this. The silver haired man came back to the present as a young Mexican waved at him in the park.

His name was Omar Vasquez and he was one of the top mercenaries around. He was different than everyone else in the park with his dark skin and buzzed black hair. Dressed with the most stylish American Eagle clothes, he refused to look like a thug. He wore a red AE hoodie with it zipped down enough to see a gray t-shirt sporting the eagle. He also had on a pair of dark blue slim jeans and completed his outfit with a pair of Aviator glasses. He had just turned 33, but he dressed like a teenager. He loved the style, but he actually wore the clothes to throw people off. Walking like this every day, no one expected him to be the infamous mercenary who funded weapons to wars in different parts of Africa.

“Hola Mr. Crockett, aren’t we having such beautiful weather? I love this snow a lot. You see, growing up in Juarez, I never saw snow. I feel like a kid again.”

“You are not to mention my last name,” replied Crockett as he scratched his silver hair, “this is Washington. You never know who is listening. With all my years of experience, you learn quickly that less information is better.”

“Te preocupas Señor,” smirked Omar, “you worry, all I have said is useless information. Now where is the third man?”

Mr. Crockett remained quiet. There is no such thing as useless information. He liked Vasquez because he was gifted and got the job done, but he still lacked in experience. This wasn’t delivering drugs or weapons. This was the takeover of the country. A full-proof plan that was already halfway through. The country had become weak and people were looking for shelter. Mr. Crockett would speed up the decomposition and set up a new system. Citizens were crying out for change and the government only continued to drop the ball. It was time to unveil the government’s sins and let justice be uncaged. Vasquez would not fail. But it still wouldn’t be enough. The third man had to arrive, his power was necessary.

Crockett sixth sense went off and he immediately saw Jian Shi appear out of the corner of his eyes. How did that man get so close without me noticing him? Mr. Crockett knew that Mr. Shi had been part of the People’s Liberation Army (PLA), and that his branch was involved with nuclear weapons and missiles, but he had no idea the man had military experience in stealth. When observing, you learned to look for people with eyes darting, quickened or slowed pace, even something as simple as moving fingers. However, Jian Shi showed none of those characteristics. Not only that, he was able to walk in Crocket’s blind spot even when he would tilt his head. Of all the men he had met, Jian Shi was the man he had to watch out for.

Jian walked towards the two men with control in his steps. Wearing a black pea coat buttoned all the way, Jian couldn’t help but shake in the freezing weather. He didn’t look a day past 35, but in reality he was 45 and his wisdom expressed that he was over 55. Not much was known about his past, just that he was born in China and survived without his parents. Gifted with an IQ of 149, Jian used his brains to graduate college at 19 and went straight into the military. Many wondered why such a brilliant man would waste his life in the military. But in less than four years, he would be named Lieutenant General and wielded vast power. Rumors of how he came to power told of the most horrific murders and forms of torture. Always gazing, never smiling. That was his slogan. Those in his inner circle would rarely see him smile and he was straight to the point. After achieving wealth and power, he chose to leave the PLA and went into politics as the Communist Party. The People’s Republic of China has three groups, the Communist Party of China, the Central People’s Government, and the People’s Liberation Army. With Jian having formed connections in the PLA, it wasn’t hard for him to switch and hold position as one of the nine Politburo. Specifics on the power they wield is a mystery, but it is safe to say they hold a strong grip on the government.

Jian Shi came within speaking distance and with a gaze at each of them, he said, “we shall leave this place. Follow me to my car, there we can talk without anyone listening.”

“Hey, how do we know this isn’t a trap,” replied the suspicious Mexican, “for all I know, you are actually against us. My mom always told me nunca confíes en un extraño, never trust a stranger.”

“It’s okay Mr. Vasquez,” stated Mr. Crockett, “this man needs us. We can trust him and besides, I’m afraid someone will be listening and if that is true, we may be in trouble. Let’s follow Shi and we can continue our conversation then.” After walking for seven minutes, all three of them approached a black limousine and Mr. Crockett assumed it was safe to say that the limo was bullet proof. They entered the limo and Crockett was ready to talk business, Vasquez on the other hand was enjoying his first time inside a luxury car. For Crockett, limousines were all show and too large a target. He imagined how easier his job would have been if the Presidents were to use something a little less flashy.

Jian Shi noticed the glee in Omar’s and asked, “have you ever been inside a limo, Mr. Vasquez?”

“No sir,” answered Omar, “I’ve never had the need. I have been in some rather nice SUVs, bullet proof and rather cozy. But we don’t use limos to transport drugs. Although, it would be less suspicious than a SUV filled with armed men. Now, let’s get to the point mister.”

“You seem to have a point,” replied Shi, “now Mr. Vasquez, do you have an idea of what you are about to be part of?”

“Truth is, not really. And I really don’t care. All I want in return is money. Crockett has been keeping me out of the loop and my guess is he needed me to not know so far. But I guess this is the part where you tell me what is going on.”

“You see, back in December of 2012, some very rich and stupid people decided to get rid of everything they had and convert to save their petty lives,” continued Shi, “stocks went down and panic spread throughout the country. Property was destroyed and Wall Street hit a new time low. It has been a year later and nothing has gotten better. It’s an understatement to say that the United States is weak. Your country is slowly coming apart and we are here to overthrow the government.”

Shock overtook Omar as he Crockett began to talk, “it is not as impossible as you think. And we are not the only people that think there should be a change. Nor is this some stupid terrorist attack. What I plan to do is tear down the old government and set up a new one, strong and able to return to its glory days. The winds of revolution are already in the air, we just need the spark.”

“Wait, how far has this gone,” asked the bewildered Mexican.

“I am sorry but we cannot say,” replied Jian Shi, “we have no idea if you will tell someone. Now you said you will do anything for money, are you willing to do this?”

Omar Vasquez stayed silent for a moment and in that moment, the two powerful men wondered what his answer would be. Yet it wasn’t a yes or no that broke the silence. It was a small chuckle and that chuckle grew into laughter. Vasquez rolled his head back and laughed even louder and the two men wondered who they were dealing with. After he was able to control himself, he slowly said, “I have always wondered, ‘how far would I go for money?’ When I was little, my parents would try to hide how desperate they were in need for a single dollar. We lived so poorly and I hated it, but I also hated my parents for being so weak. I knew I would do whatever it took for the sake of cash, and now I get to prove it. This can’t get any better, I will be making money for helping reshape history. I do not care if this goes down in history as good or bad, just give me the damn pay when I’m done.”

Crockett let out a sigh of relief, glad that he wasn’t going to have to kill such a valuable asset. The was a chance that he was lying, but that laugh showed something else. No, it wasn’t the laugh, it was the eyes. As he was speaking, Omar gave off the eyes of a mad man. This may be the man we need, he is truly crazy enough to do this. With this in mind, Crockett continued to talk, “part one is done and you will be in charge of part two of the plan. And for part two, “you will strike the Executive Branch and show how truly weak and evil they are.”

“Are you talking about attacking the White House,” asked Vasquez in disbelief, “killing the President? His staff? I may be willing to do anything, but it should at least be possible.”

“We do not want you to kill a single man,” answered Jian Shi, “that would not be good enough. Presidents have been assassinated before and still the government survived. You will not be killing the President, you will be destroying his title.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?” asked Omar with a chuckle.

“In case you don’t your history,” continued Jian Shi, “the pope used to be the most powerful man in the world. Yet now the pope is merely a figure head. Besides controlling the Catholics that still exist, he means nothing to the common man. But back then, he influenced the whole world. He told someone to do something, and they did it. Now, how is it that this great figure fell? You see, there was a schism and power was split into two popes. Hell, a third pope soon came to power. The whole world was confused and began to choose sides. It wasn’t long till power began to disappear and now we are going to do the same thing to the President. The current Vice-President is power hunger and once in power, he won’t give that up. I want you to immobilize him and my men will deal with the Vice. In two days, you will strike and in this envelope is what you are to do and where to do it. I will provide you with some men, but you are expected to lend yours too.”

Omar was not impressed. “This is going to destroy the title of President?”

It was Crockett’s turn to talk, “This will not destroy the title, but weaken it. And think of it as the building block for part two of our plan. There is more . . . but I am not ready to tell it to you. But expect the title to have no meaning within two weeks.”

Chapter 3

It was two hours since Senator Logan had come out of surgery, but he had yet to wake up. With him on the third floor, the SWAT team had positioned men near each room so that no one knew what room he was in. Each member had on their uniform, a bullet proof vest, and a Glock 17 in their sidearm. Four of them carried a magnificent semi-automatic M4, capable of killing in an instant. They each had gone through the same training, waking up at 4 am, running through obstacle courses, combat training against one another for hours, and honing their sniping skills. They lived together, fought together, and would die together. And their one goal was to protect Senator John Logan.

Led by them was Captain Hector Allen, few others deserved such respect from a team. With dirty blonde hair and blue eyes, he traded his good looks for a call of duty and a scar that spread vertical on his chin. At age 40, he had seen more action than most people see through movies. Eager to find action after watching Die Hard 2, he signed up for the military. He served in the first Golf War, and found this was the thrill he needed. After serving for 8 years, he wanted to live in one area and joined the police force in D.C. It was only a matter of time before SWAT found him and asked him to be part of the team. He served in mission after mission, showing he wasn’t just your average adrenaline junkie. Finally promoted to Captain, he guarded the door that led to the senator. And he would only allow the doctors and nurses to enter.

Captain Allen gazed ahead to find Jake Myles approaching him. Hector examined every part of the doctor, making sure nothing was out of place. Even though men holding guns surrounded Jake, the captain noted that he was unfazed. He was surprised, many people become nervous around guns. There wasn’t any sweat on his forehead, nor any change in his walk. It meant one of two things, the doctor was either trained or he felt he was in control. He smiled to himself, even though the doctor was conceited, Jake gave a positive aura. Hector was taught never trust anyone, but something was different about him.

“Hey Captain, how’s it going?” asked Jake with a grin, “I could never stay in one place for hours on end, just trying to protect someone.”

Captain Allen smirked, “you get used to it. And aren’t you a surgeon? I thought your whole job was to stay in one spot, hours on end, trying to save the poor cancer victim.”

“That’s where you are wrong Captain. Sometimes we play music, tell each other jokes, even text. It can be fun, not to mention we are slicing into a complete stranger. This is practically the whole reason I went to med school. Sure, sometimes I need to do my homework on a disease. But it’s all worth it when I enter into that room and cut a man up.”

“Wow, I am very happy you didn’t become a serial killer. I love the chit chat, but what is your business here?”

Jake was already opening the door when he said, “I need to check up on my patients. These are the most critical hours. I have to make sure he doesn’t have an infection and that he isn’t in too much pain. I’m doing the same as you Captain, I’m protecting him.”

Both of them walked into the Senator’s room to find him sleeping. It was easy to see the favoritism in the deluxe room. Almost twice the size of a regular room, even the big plasma screen TV looked a bit small in the room. The walls were painted a calming light blue with white calligraphy on the edges. An antique clock rang softly, giving the only noise except for Logan’s breathing. It seemed at first glance that there was no protection inside the room, but two trained snipers aimed their PSG1 at the doctor and SWAT member as the approached the senator. The snipers were in the building across the hospital, and nothing would escape their view. Keeping their fingers next to the trigger, they looked for anything out of suspicion. Noting nothing was out of the ordinary, they eased their sniper rifles as they saw Jake and Captain Allen conversing.

Jake strolled over to the bed and examined Logan. Grabbing the senator’s wrist, he pressed his index and middle fingers against it and counted the number of beats. Afterwards, he checked his temperature and made a few other observations. He then pulled out a pen and wrote down on his planner. After reviewing a few things, he said to Hector, “his heat beat is a little slow, but besides that, he is doing well. I will send over a nurse to give him something to fix him up. But that is it for now.”

Jake was then escorted out of the room and sent for a nurse to give the senator his meds. Five minutes later, a young nurse was on the third floor. Even in spite of the ugly outfit, most members of the SWAT team could not help but admire her beauty. With long black hair, brown eyes, and a model’s figure, she had their complete attention. And by her facial features, it was clear she had Asian heritage. Walking with style and grace, she approached Hector Allen and remained professional.

Another person who is unfazed by all this weaponry, Allen pondered in his mind, and it’s a young nurse. She must have been raised around guns, but something seems a little odd. The Captain came out of his train of thought and asked, “is there a reason you’re here miss?

“Yes sir,” answered the nurse with a smile, “Dr. Myles sent me here to give Senator Logan his medicine.” She lifted her hand to show she had a needle with the name of the medicine. Giving a kind smile, she walked into the room as Captain Allen opened the door for her. She quietly approached the senator and lifted his arm to give him the medication.

“Stop that right now,” replied Jake as he barged through, “I don’t know who the hell you are. Captain, the nurse I sent for was found dead a minute ago in the supply closet. A janitor found her dead and stripped of her clothes. I immediately ran here as soon as I heard.”

Captain Allen had his M4 aimed at the fake nurse, keeping his finger steady on the trigger. The woman took a couple steps back and laughed, “You have no idea what you are doing. I suggest you lower your weapon if you want to live. And as for who I am, you only need to know that I am with very powerful people and if we went him dead, he is dead. So drop your weapon.”

Something felt very wrong to Jake, why would someone make empty threats? Unless it wasn’t a threat. Jake gave the room a quick check through, looking for anything that could lead to their downfall. He then examined the Asian woman, she seemed too calm and even had a smile on her face. The door was closed and the SWAT members didn’t know what was going on, but they still would stop her. Jake then concluded her only exist could be out the window. He knew there were 2 SWAT members outside, so how could she escape? Then it hit him, why haven’t the SWAT members killed her yet? His eye glanced over to the next building and searched until he found the sniper. But only one was there and his gun was angled not at the woman. Then it hit him.

Jake yelled out, “Get down now!” and no sooner did a bullet break through the window and hit the senator in the chest. Jake and Captain Allen struck the ground next to the bed. Grabbing his M4 tightly, Allen crouched up against the bed and then raised his semi-automatic to find the woman gone and the window shattered to pieces. He quickly aimed it to the man across the building and fired off. The semi-automatic rang out, but failed to hit the sniper. Captain Allen ducked back down, trying to think of an idea.

“Dr. Myles, how well are you with a gun,” asked the Captain, “I have a Glock that should reach him. If I act as a distraction, maybe you could hit him.”

Jake took the Glock from his side holster, “I’ve been going to a gun course for the last few months. I think I can get him, I just have to imagine I’m Jack Bauer.” Jake gave a smile and then added, “I just need you to hold him off for a few seconds and I can get him.”

Captain Allen nodded and raised himself to shoot, but dove back down as a bullet zoomed past the top of his head. Taking a deep breath, he got back up and started firing. Jake took the chance to army crawl towards the wall and leaned his back against the edge. Taking hold of the gun, he waited and looked at Allen. Allen lifted himself up, positioned his M4, and gave quick nod. Allen rose up and fired off a few rounds into the room with the sniper, but the sniper had already dropped down and was reloading his PSG1. Instead of dropping down, the SWAT Captain stood his ground and continued to aim at the hiding sniper.

It’s always a terrible feeling, trusting someone with your life. It’s even worse when you have to trust someone who you barely know. Captain Hector Allen had done it many times before, but it was with members of the SWAT team. This was completely different, he had to trust a doctor who had no military background. Sure, he said he had been going to a gun course, but he could be lying about going there. Or he could be going, but suck. As he looked for the signs of the sniper popping out, he felt a little more comfort at a new thought. Whoever this doctor was, he was confident. Even though he joked around and was conceited, he had something many new recruits don’t have, confidence.

The SWAT member smiled, somehow this man made him believe he was safe. Breaking off his concentration, he saw a faint movement from the sniper. It was faint, but he knew what it was. It was the movement every man made before he threw himself in danger. It could either be a body shrug or a let out deep breath, but that tell was no different than the ones poker players look for. The Captain looked at Jake and gave a silent nod. The man across the window used incredible speed, so fast that Captain was completely caught off guard. It was a split moment, but the Captain knew he was about to die. Everything slowed down in his mind as he expected the bullet to hit him square in the head, but instead he saw the man fall back gripping his chest. In that split moment, Jake had aimed and fired two bullets into the sniper’s chest. Jake had removed any hesitation, but was cool and calculating in his shot. It was clear Jake had the making of becoming a pro.

Taking a breath that turned into a sly grin, he said, "damn I really did feel like Jack Bauer. I almost want this job instead of mine now."

Chapter 2

December 5, 2013

Washington, D.C

Patients were being rushed left and right through the Washington Hospital Center. One of the best hospitals in the U.S., it had received greater recognition with their new top surgeon, Jake Myles. He had gone to medical school at Stanford and had a keen eye for solving problems. Not only was he one of the smartest people in the world, he kept his body physically trained. From a young age, he realized to become the best; he had to train both his mind and body. Since the age of 18, he had practiced Capoeira. Capoeira was a form of Brazilian Martial Arts that combines break dancing and Tae-Kwon-Doe. Now twenty-nine years old and only a second year attending, he had proved to the world his surgeon skills. Taking on risky cases on his first year of only his residency, he proved he had ambition to become the best.

Jake Myles was born into a middle class family, but from a young age, he knew he was destined for greatness. At 6’1, dark brown hair, and green eyes, he could catch any woman. Beneath his tie and white coat, anyone could tell his body was chiseled from Apollo himself. But it was his charming smile that made popular. What made him different than any James Bond character was that he could also get along with the guys. Whether it was hitting on girls, or hanging out with the guys, he always had a smile on. But beneath the surface, he had a demon like self. To work in trauma, and not be consumed by death and sorrow, he had to enjoy it. And he enjoyed the blood, guts, and was heartless when the job required it. Always on the thin line between sanity and madness, he had to be cold and brutal, or his job would destroy him. He couldn’t let the dying children faze him; he had more patients to fix.

At the Trauma Center, everyone was looking for Jake. U.S. Senator John Logan had just been shot in the chest, and needed critical attention. Dr. Michael Boyle ran through each hall, searching for Jake. Michael was only 5’6 and had the straightest cinnamon colored hair that fell to his eyes that looked like a coconut head. With a face like a cute chipmunk, it was hard to take him serious. But few others were smarter than him. He had known Jake since Med school and admired his intuition, but he always had to light a fire on his butt. Two years ahead of Jake, he acted like an older brother.

After running through the halls for 2 minutes, he found Jake chatting with a nurse. “Well, I do have surgeon hands,” Jake said as he grabbed the girl’s hands, “and I can tell you have great hands too. Not to mention your eyes are stunning.”

“Thank you,” the nurse said with a small blush, “You are quite a charmer. It’s clear your reputation precedes you. It would be a shame if you didn’t take me out to dinner.”

“Don’t worry, that’s what I was planning to ask you next. I am not busy right now actually. Maybe we could get something to drink. And I can tell you more about myself. You see, I’m not just this hot shot doctor, I am your average man. I eat, sleep, laugh, cry; even fall in love.”

“Did you really say you are not busy right now?” questioned Michael in a serious voice, “you are on call right now. And not just that, everyone is looking for you! A senator has just been shot, and you’re out here flirting with a nurse. How come this always happens? If you weren’t so good, you would be kicked out of here. Now head to the ER, or your career won’t survive.”

Michael pulled him away as Jake turned his head to say, “Don’t worry, I will find you later. And don’t forget our date. Now Michael, how serious is this? Because those politicians always complain about the smallest cough or fever. And did you see her? She looked--”

“Listen, I know you like to goof off and that you’re serious as soon as you touch that scalpel, but this is different than any case you have had. This is a senator, and these are our specialties. We were hired not to heal the poor, but to heal those who control our government. No one has risen to your stature so fast, and that’s thanks to the incident last July. But one wrong move and you won’t even be able to work in the cafeteria. I’m telling you this as your friend, don’t miss anything.”

“Thank you Michael,” replied Jake, “I won’t let you down.” Jake then ran to the Emergency Room and found twenty-some people blocking the door. Reporters threw themselves at him with their questions. Pushing them by, Jake turned serious and entered the sanitary part of the room. He put on his surgical mask, cap, and washed his hands vigorously. Drying his hands, he then put on his gloves and entered the OR.

Walking into the room, Dr. Myles found himself with seven other surgeons. One of them approached Jake and said, “We gave him propofol 10 minutes ago, so he will be knocked out for a while. He was shot from the back and the bullet pierced his left lung. We are removing the blood in his lungs with the Yankauer suction device, but we need you to fix the wound.”

A wave of excitement came of Jake as he imagined cutting into the chest. He walked over and examined the chest cavity. With a chest retractor in place, he could see the lungs and the hole in it. This is what he was born to do, cut. It was a wonder he wasn’t one of those kids that practiced on animals. He didn’t discover his love for slicing until biology class, but the first time gave him a sinister thrill. Having a dark side since a young age, this was the prefect way for him to keep that side under control. It wasn’t that he was destructive, in fact it was the opposite. When he took grip of the scalpel, he used precision was calculating in his movements.

After working on Senator John Logan for 6 hours, they were done. Jake took a deep breath and removed his mask as he walked out of the OR. He was taken by surprise as everyone surrounded, each one trying to get him to explain what happened. Cameras surrounded him, but he was already use to this. Back in July, he shocked the world and was on the news everywhere. The Washington Hospital Center decided to use this as a way to increase their popularity and began to let Jake take on his own cases. There was much controversy and Jake had to learn to be careful what he said in front of the news reporters. Especially with the women reporters, he realized they were more than a pretty face. After playing this game for the last few months, he understood the less said was the smartest choice. No one could take his words out of proportion.

He straightened his chest and said aloud, “I am happy to tell you Senator John Logan is okay. And to answer all your questions, I don’t know who or why he was shot. He took a bullet to the chest from behind, my guess is someone aimed for his heart and missed. And for your last question, yes I am single and yes I know I’m a little conceited. Have a good day everyone.”

And with that, Jake pushed his way past them and continued his job. Everyone started to murmur to themselves, but one woman walked away from the crowd. She exited the hospital and walked to the parking lot. She stopped, turned her head to make sure no one was near; then pulled her long black hair away from her ear as she grabbed the phone. She dialed a number and then spoke, “He lived and he knows part of our plan. No, it’s not enough to stop us, but he can cause a problem. Okay, I will take care of him. I won’t fail this time.”

Chapter 1 of my story (untitled)

The bullet pierced through Jeffery Matchen’s head as he tried to flee. No one would miss him. After all, he had killed six people, two of them children. Jeffery’s body flung across the concrete sidewalk and faded into the darkness. He was a wanted man in three states. Well, only his six year old son would miss him. It was just an accident, he didn’t mean to kill her. He was drunk and angry; she slipped off the balcony. He decided to drive away, but he was still drunk. After driving for fifteen minutes, Jeffery’s motor skills began to decline more. He tried to keep the car in a straight line; however he didn’t see the father and daughter walking on the sidewalk. Glass flew everywhere and there was a loud scream before the silence engulfed the night. He slowly got out of the car and saw blood everywhere. Wiping off the blood from his head wound, he wobbled away. In the coming months, three more people would die from accidents as he fled from place to place. All he wanted to do was go home and hold his son. To tell his only joy that he is sorry that he screwed up so bad.

Now he would never see his son. He lay on the cold cement, nothing of worth to this world. The news would say, “Criminal receives fair death.” After all, six people were dead because of him. No one really knew the full story, especially not the man who had just killed him. The wind slowly died down as footsteps rang against the pavement. A silver haired man stepped closer to examine the small hole behind the head. A perfect shot, few could have done even better. Especially considering it was night. Even though it had been fifteen years since he left the Secret Service, he had kept his remarkable speed and precision. He lifted his Beretta 93r back into his chest holster.

He smiled to himself, happy that the sinner was dead. “God doesn’t need to look at your life anymore,” he said to himself, “I did Him a favor and made Judgment Day arrive for you.”

He kicked the body, and zipped up his jacket as the cold wind blew against him. In the dark, only his silver hair could be seen. It was an army style cut. Wearing a black coat, boots, and gloves, he looked almost invisible. He turned his head and began to walk away, but stopped suddenly. Across the street, stood an old man leaning against the building in seer shock. The old man had seen his face, and worst, recognized him.

The silver haired man stayed quiet for a moment. He knew who the old man was. His name was Robert Gale. He had lived alone for the past 2 years since his wife had died of cancer. He was in Robert’s house the night she died, holding him and telling it would be alright. He wanted to walk away and not kill him. But if he ran away, Robert would tell the police and his plan would be ruined. He closed his eyes for a second and wished it could have been different. He lifted his gun and aimed it at Mr. Gale.

“I am sorry you had to see this,” the man with the gun said, “And I wish with all my heart that I could let you go, but you know who I am. But it will be alright, I am not killing you in vain. I will tell God to let you in, maybe this will cleanse my sin of killing you. Goodbye.”

“Please Father, don’t kill me,” begged the old man. Then there was a loud bang as the frail man fell against the wall, griping his chest. Blood flowed across the pavement and the man with silver hair quietly walked away from the scene. Only one man was supposed to die, but it seemed fate had called for two deaths in one night. He took up a quick pace after leaving the crime scene. Avoiding cars, he went through back alleys and jumped fences, making sure no one was following him. After running for ten minutes, he slowed down to a brisk walk and straightened out his clothes.

He returned to his home near the Lake of the Isles. One had to be rich to live there, and his house proved it. A Spanish Revival home, it was two stories tall and circular with a large porch holding different types of flowers. He looked up to see snow begin to fall. He walked up the steps and opened his door. Taking off his coat, he went straight to his room. He turned on the light, laid his Beretta93r on bed, and pulled out a suitcase. He was packing his clothes when the phone rang. He picked up the phone and was silent for a few seconds. “That is perfect,” he finally said, “I will be on the plane in four hours. I trust you received the packages and formed the key. Yes, it will be done in five days.”

The silver haired man hung up his phone and continued to pack. He stared down at a picture of a beautiful woman. Memories flashed through his head of a time when things were simple. Tears started to flow out of his eyes as he began to hear screams in his head. He grabbed a cup on his bed stand and threw it against the wall. Pieces flew everywhere as he sat down on his bed. He wiped away his tears and silently said to himself, “I swear to God, I will spread justice everywhere on this earth. I will tear this country apart and create a kingdom that will never fall. And when I go to D.C., my goal will be achieved.”