Secret Agent

The secret agents, even if the general populace is unaware of their existence, are indispensable to the government's operation, namely to manipulate information and get rid of uncooperative political figures. As long as countries wage war with each other, or until humans stop fighting with each other, the secret agents will exist and prove their usefulness as necessary evil. It's not uncommon for the secret agents to do ethically questionable things. What is it that keeps them doing what they do? Working in the shadows, the secret agents know no honor. Their achievements are only acknowledged among themselves; even their families are oblivious of what they do. Are they given wealth for their service? They're paid as much as regular government employees are paid; the money that they get is nothing compared to the risks that they take in the line of duty. Patriotism. Twisted loyalty toward their country. The acknowledgment by their country, which they cannot share with their friends outside the work. Whatever makes them believe they're doing the right thing may be false, but regardless, it's deep-rooted. But what if their country abandons them? If it denies their privilege to be buried in the National Cemetery, what do they have left that can keep them going? What does an abandoned secret agent have left? We don't know. Only the few connections that he had with others would prove that he once existed. The Secret Agent is a fast and precise killer. He makes use of his Kodachi and a suppressed handgun to perform an array of continuous, deadly sword strikes followed by repeated pistol fire at his chosen targets, making him excellent in sustained damage. When I was a secret agent, I once was captured by a hostile organization. The torture that lasted for weeks wasn't enough to open my mouth, but it surely was enough to make me want to die. The only thing that kept me going was my determination to accomplish my last mission. I wanted to die proudly as a secret agent. I thought the enemy fed me a hallucinogen because I woke up and saw my boss standing in front of me. I failed to return alive, and my boss was looking at me with warmth in his eyes. He was more generous in that hallucination than he ever was in real life. "Now that your identity has been revealed to the enemy, this is the end of your brilliant career." He said brilliant. I didn't know why he was complimenting me, but that jerk sounded so real that it gave me goose bumps. He covered me with a blanket and helped me walk. Only then I realized I'd been rescued. Later I learned that he negotiated with the enemy to save me. Interesting story, huh? But... I wonder if the few weeks I suffered in the hands of the enemy were in fact the time for my superiors to test my loyalty. Did you rest enough? Then let's get back to the interrogation. - The Enforcer, in the secret room in the heart of a hostile organization There's no need to clash your weapon against your enemy's; just stick it where it hurts. Holding a contest is not part of your job. Extraordinariness only gets in your way; pursue blending ordinariness. Remain peaceful until the end of your mission. Noise is ineffective; crying before you die won't help you. Noise also includes gunshot. A sense of guilt is a luxury. We agents don't have to be philosophical. Kill anything that shakes you first. Don't question your missions. Questions only slow you down. Kill yourself. Clear your mind. A good agent is a dead agent. A requiem of painful screams echo on this moonlit night. - Codename Executioner “Is that true?” He appeared as if he was there from the beginning. In the middle of the night, those who had gathered deep in the back-alley planning something, were surprised by the sudden appearance of the man, making them pull out their own weapons. “What you said about there being those who are removing traces of ‘Master’.” A dry and emotionless voice spoke as if he were asking about the weather. The man was well out of the range of bullets that were shot instead of answers, as if he had expected it, and the man’s sword swung without hesitation, drawing a darkly colored trajectory. The back of the man disappeared, melting into the darkness that his sword had created. He dropped the wanted letter, now completed, after quickly taking position behind the person that seemed to be the leader of the group. What soon came was complete darkness as if the moon in the night sky had set. The occasional flash of bullets and shining blades shone. Each time, screams implying death resonated, but faded quickly. As the final cry faded into the darkness the man appeared under the rising moonlight,. “My last mission…” The man cleaned up his traces at his scene, then walked into the dark, checking the time on his pocket watch as if it were a habit.