Prompt 3

Fundamental Argument

NOTICE:

THE FOLLOWING CONTAINS CLASSIFIED INFORMATION. IF YOU ARE NOT AUTHORIZED FOR LEVEL 8 SECURITY YOU MUST BURN THIS, AND ANY OTHER DOCUMENTS ASSOCIATED. IF NOT YOU ARE SUBJECT TO PROSECUTION UNDER STATUTE 127 OF THE CODE.

To: Agent White

Current Alias: Jeremiah Johnson

Concerning: The package of previous concern.

Intelligence has informed us that the package lost in Venezuela has been located in your vicinity. You are to retrieve it at all costs. Exercise caution as Rogue Agent Black is believed to be involved and is linked with the disappearance of three other agents. All intelligence related to the job is located on the following papers. Commit them to memory and burn before seeking to complete the job.

Agent White flipped the through the following pages. The intel was thorough. It looked like the crows back at HQ had done their jobs this time. A fact that made A. White smile inside. Operations hinged upon Intel, and he had seen many ops go south simply due to a lack of intelligence. Glancing over the papers one more time Agent White smiled to himself. This should be easy enough. He folded them into thirds and stuffed them back into his jacket, before picking up his binoculars and continuing his observation of the old town house across the street.

The building was three stories, and every window was framed in iron bars. Nothing to surprising given the neighborhood. The bottom two floors were occupied. Silhouettes with cromagnum foreheads paced by the windows, the tell tell shadows of gun barrels pointing over their shoulders. The top floor was completely still however. No lights, no sounds. It was possibly an attic, but a feeling in his gut told Agent White that the top floor was probably the most dangerous. Everything matched up with the briefing, given a few minor details, and for the past eight hours nothing more that the routine changing of guards disturbed this hidden fortress.

Agent White crawled backwards from the rooftop where he’d lain for the better part of an afternoon. Soon as he was sure that he was out of sight, he stood up and with soft steps ran to the fire escape ladder. The ladder dropped down to an alley way that opened into the street. With the movements of a skilled surgeon he cut his way from shadow to shadow. Each step, stop, and duck already programmed into his mind. It was no wonder that the guards didn’t see the ghost that slid across the street and into the alley beside their house.

The alley was dim, shaded on both sides by multi-storied walls. It ran straight back about fifty meters before coming to a dead end. Trash cans, and old crates were pushed randomly against the walls allowing a small stream of gray water to trickle down its center. In short, controlled movements Agent W made his way from cover to cover never taking his eyes off of the alcoved door near the end of the alley. It looked like nothing more than a dark spot on the wall. Purely unnoticeable, and probably would’ve stayed that way except for the single guard that leaned against the door. The burnt orange glow of his cigarette floated a few feet above the ground, rising every so often to the guards mouth. Each draw pulling more light from the cigarette, illuminating the guards face with shadows. He’d take a few drags, and then let his hand fall. The cigarette falling back to a barely noticeable burnt orange.

Agent W.’s pistol moved from holster to hand in one fluid, memorized motion. Without slowing his pace, he raised the sights up and with two silent puffs of air the guard fell to the ground. A few more steps and Agent W had two fingers on the guards neck. His pulse was weak, but in a few moments that would no longer be a problem. Still, precautions were everything in this line of work, and in a few short moments the guard was laid under a pile of trashbags, and his gun dropped in a dumpster and the clip tossed into some bottles. Next came the door.

Oddly enough it wasn’t locked. A light tap of the pistol and it slid open on greased hinges exposing a tiny guard room. A wooden chair pointing towards a small security monitor was the only piece of furniture. Apparently they weren’t wanting anyone getting too comfortable. Beyond the chair stood a door. A large heavy metal door with no handle. A closer inspection showed it could be opened by some sort of key, which was found in the guards flak jacket. The key slide into the lock, and with a quick jerk Agent W. was rewarded with the grating sound of metal on metal. Large bolts could be felt as they pulled back and dropped into fittings built inside the door. The door was heavy, even as it glided inward Agent W. still felt it’s weight under his hand. A good push and anyone on the other side would be crushed.