Kavros: Not A RequestMature

I stared dwon the sight of my SVDK sniper rifle, waiting for my chance to take my target. When my target came into plain view, I watched for a few seconds, observing. Then, when observation ceased to be necessary, I put a round in the bastard's forehead.

As I was picking up my kit and preparing to leave, I heard one of the French troops below shout, "Fils de pute!" Luckily, that didn't mean they'd spotted me. People died every day in war zones. Foreign diplomats weren't an exception.


As I got back off my plane in a New York airport and headed out into the parking lot, I was approached from behind by a man wearing a black suit. One thing you got to know in this business - anyone wearing a black suit who approaches you from behind probably isn't there to make friendly small-talk with you.

When I reached my car, he was still right there. I discreetly grabbed my Magnum Research BFR from the glove box, then decided to try a little experiment. I walked away from my car and headed across the street to a nearby alley. The man followed, of course. Finally, when I reached the end of the alley, I turned on him, revolver in hand.

"What do you want from me?"

"Mr. Kavros, I-" this man had just done something which never ceased to upset me - he'd mispronounced my name, pronouncing it as something similar to Kovrus when its supposed to be pronounced exactly the way it's spelled - KAVROS.

"It's pronounced KAVROS!"

"Of course, I'm very sorry about that-"

"And call me Scott."

"Well....Scott, I'm Jeremy Simmons, and I'm with the CIA."

Oh, crap. Tell me I didn't just assault a CIA agent....

"Your actions of late have been of great interest to the Agency."

"And? Are you going to take me in, or..."

"No, Scott. Actually, the Agency would like to place you on a team which we're assembling to do a job for the government. You will be allowed to work outside the law, though you do so at your own risk, as usual - "

"Not interested," I said, plain and simple.

"Well, Mr. Kavros, it wasn't exactly a request." He scribbled an adress on a sheet of paper he retrieved from his pocket, handed it to me and said, "Be here on Friday."

The End

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