Night came fast enough. I did wait for it, but on realizing it had come, I made for my luggage, fished out my costume box, and checked if everything was in place. None of them was missing or damaged, I was good to go for a secret military base mission.
My phone blinked twice. I logged into the mail that came and saw a video from Baba. It could only be seen once and could delete itself automatically. I sat on the bed and watched him do what he did best in the short video.
"A car has been provided." He said without blinking an eye. "It awaits you in front of the hotel, ready to pick you up once you set out."
That was all. I knew what he meant by front. It's slang, and the word car meant a motorbike was waiting behind the hotel where no one would see me.
I scurried off from the room with my box and used the back stairs. It lead to the parking lot. I got there, and lo, a motorbike was waiting amidst parked cars.
I made for the motorbike, mounted it, and masked my head with the big helmet. I slipped in the key I found by the side of the motorbike and turned on the engine. A communication device was attached to the helmet, so, I could speak and be spoken to by the round table and by Baba.
"Agent 1200 on the ground." Someone came loud in the helmet. we know ourselves by numbers, but most of us don't know each other by face or personality. All we know is that we are agents of our society.
For this mission, I wasn't informed how many agents would be on the ground, so, I was shocked to hear Agent 1200 speak.
"Agent 1515, do you copy." I pulled out of the parking lot and headed out onto the roads.
"Agent 555." Came the third agent. "Sniper on the ground, waiting for striker agent 1515."
I drove fast enough till I got to a safe place where my clothes, a house I bought five years ago which I only visited a few times a year. No one knew about it. I changed over to the widow gown and wore the mask, then, I took my guns, and once again, I stepped out with my motorbike.
"Agent 1515, do you copy." Agent 555 came in my ears.
"On it." I stopped my motorbike as I got to my destination.
"Agent 555, do you copy," I said for the last time.
"Sniper aiming right." Came agent 555 in response.
I took off the helmet and dismounted the motorcycle. We are not allowed to go into action with communication, in case we fall, the enemy wouldn't pick and study our communication system.
Some people argue that our society didn't function with gadgets. They said we communicated with the heart. I made for the facility undisturbed. The sniper was my cover, and for the other agent, I didn't know.
The first man fell before it got to him. The second, the third, the fourth, and the fifth. It was then I realized the other agents were at work. One was using a drone to shoot, while the other was on the snipper, doing what he did best.
I decided to leave the open spaces outside, while I made into one of the buildings. Five men were there playing cards. Those were none of my business. They turned to me, but before they could grab their riffles to make me surrender, I offered them bullet holes in their vital organs to ensure they all perished.
"Hey, who…" a man who barged into the room screamed on seeing me. "I thought you were dead."
I smiled behind the mask and shot him in the head. The government assumed I died in my last mission, but what they didn't know was it was made up.
Two armed men rushed into the small house, but I was fast enough to open fire. Among the two men, one was not badly hit. He survived my shot, but he was losing blood already.
"Show me the two journalists in your possession," I said with the gun on the man's head.
"Vas-y, tue-moi." The man hollered fearlessly.
I opened fire on his head and his brain melted out of his head and sputtered on my face. The mask took the stains. I walked off and barged into about fifteen of them, aiming for the drone up in the sky.
"Les Americains!" one of them screamed while they fired gunshots at the drone. I smiled; this was the kind of stuff I liked seeing. Americans would be fair if compared to us because we were known to kill when it was necessary, so, it was better America came for them than us, because I was sure none of them would dare go untouched at this moment.
I tossed a knife at the first man and brought him down with the knife stuck to his chest. The rest turned and opened fire, well, that's not without me knowing what to do. I jumped out of their sight and went behind them.
"That's the widow gown." One of them said. "Did she come back to life?"
"We killed her, right?" said one of them.
"We didn't." said another one.
I slipped unto their backs and pulled my guns off their place on my gown. I shot them randomly, killing many with the reckless shot.
The wounded cried out loud. My bullets were poisoned, anyone who was shot by me would perish in the next moment.
"The journalists.?" I asked a wounded man amongst them. "Where are the journalists?"
"That way, buddy." The man was dying slowly.
"Okay." I left him.
***