Sunday Photo Fiction: The Mission


“Do you understand your assignment?” The agent nodded. Enter the building, plant a bug, and return to the helicopter. The agent set his watch to five minutes as his handler stuck a communication device in her inner ear. The agent did the same. “Remember, no matter what, do not abort the mission. Do you understand? Do not abort. It is critical the bug is planted.” Once again, the agent nodded as helicopter landed on the small landing strip by the pier.

He walked briskly down the boardwalk, wearing a navy-blue maintenance personnel uniform with an ID clipped over his left breast pocket. He entered the building and lowered to the ID card scanner, nervously waiting for the light to turn green. The moment it turned green, he half-ran, half-walked to the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor. He entered the target’s vacant office – target was out for lunch – and stuck the bug behind the computer monitor. “Got it,” he said to his handler.

“Good, bug out.” The agent nodded but just as he left the office, he heard his handler, “Hey, what are you doing? You’re supposed to wait for him.” The agent hurried to the window and saw the helicopter below.

“What’s happening?” He asked the handler.

“I don’t know,” his handler said with fear in her voice. “I don’t know.”

A Response for Sunday Photo Fiction

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