Jason Clark
Mr. Tallman
English Language and Composition
AP
11/2/12
Track 1
This
is what it means to be alive, he thought as he dropped over the fence. As he
oriented himself with the digital map he had on his wrist, he felt his heart
beat jump. He had a mission, he had a challenge and now he felt right at home. The
man known as Mr. Tong was the largest drug dealer on this half of the globe,
and it was his job to take Tong out. There was a catch though. It had to look
like an accident. He had been airlifted just outside of Mr. Tong’s compound
with a silenced pistol, a vial of poison that would mimic a heart attack,
several high-tech gadgets and his own wits. The compound was one of the most
heavily guarded structures in the world.
He
found himself on the map: he was 200 yards south of the compound. A quick jog
through the jungle, and he came upon his target. The compound was an imposing
structure: all metal, large and teeming with guards. Now, it was time to
observe. After many years on the job, he had learned that every guarded
structure had one thing in common: patterns. Every guard, every camera had a
pattern that it followed, and patterns lead to predictability. So, he waited
and watched. And he found his opportunity. Every hour, on the hour, there was
flaw in the system. There was no guard in the southern corner. And so, just
before the next hour, he left his cover in the trees and made his way to the
wall. Once there, he unhooked a section of rope from his belt as well as a
small hook. He threw the hook up top and climbed up with ease, reaching the top
quietly and quickly. As he prepared to move to the shadow created by the
adjacent building, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. A guard. They
had changed their pattern, just now. The guard had not seen him yet, he was
about to turn the corner and was scanning the landscape. The agent had seconds,
if that, to not be discovered. His only option was to stand in the shadows and
hope against hope that he would blend in enough with the shadow that the guard
would not notice. As the guard turned the corner, time seemed to slow for the
agent. He felt cold sweat drip down his spine and felt an emotion he hadn’t
felt in years: fear. He could feel the pressure around him: if he was
discovered he would be killed. The guard passed by almost in slow motion,
seeming to take forever to traverse the several meters that would put the agent
out of the guard’s field of view. The agent pressed himself against the wall,
willing himself to blend into the wall.s He held his breath, praying to a god
he had never believed in that the guard would not notice him.
The
guard passed without noticing. The agent stayed pressed against the wall,
waiting for his heartbeat to return to normal. He took several shaky steps away
from the wall and began to return to reality. He breathed deeply, urging his
mind to take control of his body again. As he slowly returned to normal, the
precariousness of his situation took hold of him. Surely, the guard would be
back. He needed to move. He had been arrogant and it would not happen again. He
felt his confidence returning, tempered this time by the reminder of his own
mortality and imperfection. His target was in the middle of the compound, and
there were still guards and cameras in the way. He made his way across the
compound, effectively and conservatively using cover to move across to the
center. Now, it was just a matter of putting the poison in Mr. Tong’s favorite
wine and then getting back out. He went in through an air vent to the kitchen. He
inserted the poison through the cork, smooth and clean, and exited the way he
came in. His path back out would be the same as his path in. He knew the camera
placements and how many guards were along the way. His exit was smoother than
his entrance, and he was picked up by a helicopter several miles from the
compound.
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