Soo… This is a challenge on this blog. We’re supposed to write about the antagonist of our novel based on one or more of the prompts following:
- Your antagonist is between three and ten. Write something that represents their life at that point.
- Write about a year before the start of your novel.
- Write about the first time your villain killed or ordered the death of someone
- Your antagonist and his/her best friend, brother or sister, or second-in-command are talking about something completely random of your choice, within the past year.
- Write about when your antagonist moved into his place of current residence
I chose to do number 3. Of course, I wrote about Morpheus. XD For those who are curious, this is supposedly his first assignment after he joined the wet-works operation in the military. As for the feeling of something missing at the end thing, that’s something to be explained in Cold Hands itself. 😀
“Okay, M,” the voice said into the assassin’s earpiece. “I’ve got eyes. You ready?”
M grunted, taking his gun from its holster and cocking it. Reaching to his shoulder, he unbuckled the protective strap on his sheath that held the knife in; never could be too safe. He grinned, light glinting off his two metal canines. This was his first mission that involved him as a field agent, and already epinephrine had triggered blood to race through his veins. He could feel his heart thumping in his chest, and as he adjusted his earpiece, M wondered for a moment if this assignment was over his head.
“Alright assassin, here we go. I’ve looped the footage in the cameras, so they’re blind. Take ‘em in, clean entrance, clean exit, don’t mess with anything more than you need to.”
“Shut up, Buzz,” M growled. The tech operative was nicknamed ‘Buzz’ by the others for a reason. His constant chatter was as annoying as a bee buzzing.
Ignoring the stream of prattling in his right ear, the assassin ducked down below the line of a wall and moved rapidly to the back of the mansion. He paused for a moment, pressing his ear against the concrete. A slight scuffle alerted him of a guard, probably idling by the mansion. Now the question was how to scale the ten foot wall. M looked around for a moment. His analytical brain studied the trees by the wall, calculating angles, force, potential noise. He finally decided on a tall pine.
Standing with his back to the wall, M faced the tree. He breathed deeply, then took a few running steps towards the tree. At the last moment he jumped and twisted, pushing off the trunk with his right leg. He was sent flying towards the wall, and with his arms outstretched, just managed to grab onto the top of the wall. Breathing heavily, he slowly pulled his body up till he was at eye level with the top of the wall. The guard did not seem to notice.
“Nice athletics, M, but you forgot to do a glass check. Your fingers could be sliced to shreds by now.”
Morpheus ignored Buzz’s comment, but it stung, all the more because he had truly forgotten to check. Hoisting himself up till he was on the wall, he made a mental note to be more cautious in the future. M briefly considered distracting the guard with a noise, but it was supposed to be a clean operation. He’d just have to take the chance that the sentry kept his eyes on the grounds and not the wall.
Buzz congratulated M as he landed silently on the other side of the wall, but M knew that it was too early to celebrate. Even though Buzz had hacked into the mansion’s security, you never knew when, on some whim, the target had decided to lay down a hardware trap, completely separate from the rest of the security system.
Getting on his belly, M slowly crawled towards the mansion. Hearing some motion from the direction of the guard, he froze. Buzz kept chattering. Satisfied that he had been deluded, the sentinel resumed his lazy scanning of the grounds, and M continued right past him to a lower story window. Removing a specially designed tool from a pocket, M inserted its carefully crafted edge into the aperture in the window. As he did so, a nagging feeling stopped him.
“You sure that you’ve hijacked their security?”
Buzz’s response sounded hurt. “M, do you really think that I’d let some private civilian beat our military technology?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Morpheus said, still not convinced.
“Just chill M, you’re too tense. That glass thing was a joke, I’d have warned you if there was anything to look out for.”
“Well then, here goes nothing.”
M twisted the tool and the window popped open. No alarms went off, there was no shouting or firing of weapons. Carefully he entered the house, making sure not to touch the sill with anything. His shoes would be discarded later, but fabric from clothes were easily traced. A camera in the top corner of the room blinked silently at him, and he shivered slightly, thinking how only a small repeated clip was the only thing between him and detection.
There was no one in the house. Sometimes, M thought grimly, paranoia could come back to bite you. Silently he slunk up the stairs. He was so close to his goal. Down along the hall, a dim light outlined the silhouette of his target. From a pouch, M drew out a small, deadly-looking syringe. On the end of the syringe was a long, sharp needle. Stealthily he moved towards his target, and finally he stood up. This was what everything balanced on.
The man turned around, surprised, and before he could do anything, M jabbed the needle into his target’s chest, right into the main artery. The poison travelled rapidly through the man’s blood system, and a second later, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he fell over. M felt relief wash over him. He had successfully completed the mission. Then the thought struck him; he had just murdered someone.
His rational mind hastened to assure him. He had done it legally. The man he had just killed was a threat to everyone. Yet his conscience prodded at him. Was this the right way to go about things? Once again, M had that empty feeling that he knew something that he could not remember. He sighed, it was probably nothing. Buzz’s congratulations rang hollowly in his ears. Killing someone in cold blood was bad enough, but to be congratulated on the success of the operation was too much.
“Shut up, Buzz.”