Status: Updated on random occasions
Invictus
Job Description
May 30, 1962 Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic
It was a minute passed midnight when General Rafael Trujillo walked out of the government building. The man felt so safe, so in control of the chaotic country that he freely walked the crime ridden streets of Santo Domingo on the way to his luxury car, which was parked around the corner. The dictator's over-confidence played directly into my hand. I watched from my position on top of the opposite building as the strict dictator step off the curb and into the street. General Trujillo never made it to his car.
As the warm crimson blood flowed from the General's head onto the cold street, I broke down the high powered rifle, whose patent was classified as Top Secret. About an hour later, I was on a small speed boat headed for Puerto Rico. I sent a quick message to the CIA team located in Miami using the boat's encrypted radio. As usual, the spoke the message completely in code. To anyone who had managed to pick the signal, it would sound like I was ordering pizza.
I had been working for the CIA for over 15 years. Practically ever since the American saved me from my war torn homeland. Now, in return, I worked for them. It wasn't the prettiest job. I yet had to conceive a way in which I could ever call my job, which entitled me to kill people, pretty.
It was a minute passed midnight when General Rafael Trujillo walked out of the government building. The man felt so safe, so in control of the chaotic country that he freely walked the crime ridden streets of Santo Domingo on the way to his luxury car, which was parked around the corner. The dictator's over-confidence played directly into my hand. I watched from my position on top of the opposite building as the strict dictator step off the curb and into the street. General Trujillo never made it to his car.
As the warm crimson blood flowed from the General's head onto the cold street, I broke down the high powered rifle, whose patent was classified as Top Secret. About an hour later, I was on a small speed boat headed for Puerto Rico. I sent a quick message to the CIA team located in Miami using the boat's encrypted radio. As usual, the spoke the message completely in code. To anyone who had managed to pick the signal, it would sound like I was ordering pizza.
I had been working for the CIA for over 15 years. Practically ever since the American saved me from my war torn homeland. Now, in return, I worked for them. It wasn't the prettiest job. I yet had to conceive a way in which I could ever call my job, which entitled me to kill people, pretty.