Serrurier Secret

            The cool night breeze moved along the men’s suit jackets. The street lights viciously flickered, almost as if they were trying to warn about a mysterious threat.
“Agent Key, approaching the target.”

“Agent Smith, approaching the target and observing Solitaria Heart 01.”

            Key takes a deep breath. He pushes the doors open and Smith follows. Bright colorful lights strike them like a lightning bolt. The loud sounds of rich men laughing as they gave up their money for better or worse gave the two agents a clear hint at where they were at, as if they didn’t know already. They were at The Hippodrome Casino in London.

“I’ll go upstairs and look around. Of course, the hard work’s all up to you, so get to work.”

He pat the other agent on the back, getting a response in the form of a nervous smile.

            Key was new to this. His ‘card target’ was possibly the most dangerous domestic terrorist in America, Russell S. Lockley. He was inside the casino as well, hiding in plain sight while spreading his crime organization and giving away hefty amounts of money at his pleasure. This is how new Solitaria spies were trained. They weren’t given easy missions at the start. They were handed the hardest task possible at the moment in order for them to become autonomous and aware of the dangerous situations that await them.

            Knowing he had to blend in and work from the inside out, Key took the opportunity to sit at a semi-circular table that was being used for games of Blackjack. Right before he could sit, he felt a strong hand grip on his left shoulder. His heart started pounding and he turned around slowly, only to see a tall bearded man with a built physique and long black hair combed back. Key immediately knew who this was. It was Lockley.

“My bad, man. Uh, I left to go get me a drink and I thought nobody was eyeing this seat,” the man said, obviously drunk.

“Oh, um.. No worries, mate. You can sit. Uh, enjoy your drink.”

            Lockley sits down slowly and gives the agent a thumbs up and a smile. Key knew what he had to do next. Phase one was complete. Now, onto phase two.

            The spy walks into the restroom in a hurry and checks his equipment, readying it for the ultimate task. He notices his pistol has no magazine. He grabbed a spare one from his jacket pocket. He directed it into the bottom of the gun. It wouldn’t fit. He tried to put it in again. It won’t fit. After a third try, he finally gets it to attach and stay there. With his gun loaded and suppressed, he was ready. All of a sudden, he hears a crackle in his earpiece.

“You used the wrong formula, but you got the right answer. Nice going. Now, what are you doing in there? Get the job done, quickly and quietly,” said the other agent.

“This is way harder than I expected. How do I take him out?”

“That’s for you to figure out. Just don’t get us caught and killed.”

            With his pistol in his hand, he takes a few deep breaths. He knew Lockley was drunk, so the plan was to wait until he came into the restroom.

            After what seemed to be hours stuck in the stall, the restroom door finally opened. Key took a peek through the side of the stall and confirmed it was Lockley. The terrorist approached a urinal and started doing his business while humming a catchy tune.

            After yet another deep breath, he steps out of the stall. He turns the corner of the stall and aims at the man’s head. He starts shaking tremendously. Sweat starts pouring down his face. His heart and mind start racing. He can’t get himself to go through with it. His head wants to, but his heart won’t allow it. After a raging war between his morals and responsibilities, he shuts his eyes quickly and shoots. He opens his eyes to see the horrifying aftermath, only to see a ghost aiming his gun at the agent.

            Key acted upon instinct and tackled Lockley. The recoil of the attack caused the target to shoot unintentionally, letting everyone close by know about the ongoing event. His head hit the bottom rim of the urinal and he landed on the dirty floor. Key got up, palms up, heart racing, lungs expanding and shrinking rapidly. He looked down to see his target knocked unconscious.

“Smith, he’s out cold. What now?”

“Get out of there, whatever you did in there, it alerted every person on the left side of the first floor!”

            Key heard footsteps approaching fast. He ran and hid in the stall nearest to the restroom entrance. Multiple men entered the restroom and saw the unconscious terrorist. They ran to help, and Key took this opportunity to leave and rendezvous with Smith. He ascended various flights of stairs and finally saw his senior agent.

            “Ok, what now?”

            “Well, you obviously didn’t do a good job.”

            “Maybe don’t send a beginner to hunt down an entire terrorist next time!”

            “Whatever, now that everyone is in there, we can take initiative.”

            Smith hands the agent a grenade.

            “This will get rid of the target plus all of the witnesses.”

            “What?! You can’t kill any innocent people. This wasn’t explained to me!”

            “As long as the target is gone, the surrounding circumstances and events do not matter. The cyber team back at HQ brought all cams down. Leave your benign attitude behind and get it done. You’ve already dawdled too much.”

            “I don’t care if the cameras are down. There’s no way I’m going to kill all of those people just to get rid of one man. I didn’t join to kill no matter what, I joined to get rid of any major threats.”

            “Well, I guess you’re just not fit for this kind of job.”

Before Key could react, the senior agent swiftly pulled out his handgun and aimed. Key could only put one hand in front of his face before a sharp burning pain struck through the inside of his hand and the left side of his face and head.. The spy let out an anguished scream as his arm and left cheek were covered up in blood. All of a sudden, his vision and his hearing go dark. His body collapsed, laying in a small pool of blood. Morals were to be completely ignored as a Solitaria agent. This was never taught, but instead learned on the field. If the agent refuses, then they refuse to continue with their life.