clandestine
[klan-des-tin]
1. characterized by, done in, or executed with secrecy or concealment, especially for purposes of subversion or deception; private or surreptitious:
Their clandestine meetings went undiscovered for two years.
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His
breathing and footsteps were slow and controlled. He needed to move as quietly as possible, and
everything he did was for that purpose.
It was not easy though. The
hallways were made of metal and the floor was bare. Anyone walking normally would produce a
dreadful echo. It took immense effort
and concentration to keep his footfalls silent in such an environment.
He
approached a corner and peaked out just enough to see around it. Nobody immediately visible, but he held his
weapon at the ready, just in case. The
small, air powered dart gun was loaded with tranquilizing darts that could
knock out a charging horse. It might not
have been as lethal as its more explosive counterpart, but it was nearly
silent. That was more important in such
a clandestine mission as this one.
Besides, killing people drew too much unwanted attention. A sleeping guard would cause some eye
rolls. A dead one would cause an alarm
to sound.
The
dart gun’s only real weakness was ammo.
Each clip only held five darts, and he could only carry three extra
clips. Hardly ideal, but he had been
running reconnaissance on the facility for weeks in order to learn guard
movements and the placement of the security systems. With any luck, he would be able to complete
his mission without using a single dart.
He
froze. The sound of footsteps echoing in
the hallway. Then voices. Two of them, and both the steps and voices
were big and heavy. Guards, no
question. They were coming from around a
corner though, so there was a chance they would simply overlook him. He flattened his body against the wall with
his gun at the ready. He held his breath. Sure enough, the happily chatting guards
overlooked him as they walked by. A few
seconds passed before he dared to breathe.
He
proceeded to the location he knew to be the facility’s control center. It was much too late for anyone to be in
there. Maybe a tech or two, if he was
unlucky, but nothing substantial. He
slowly opened the door, being careful not to make a sound. He scanned the room, finding it just as empty
as he hoped it would be.
He
entered and closed the door just as silently as he had opened it. Choosing a computer at random, he pulled out
the reason he could only carry three extra ammo clips: a large electronic device that acted as a
kind of automated hacker. While he did
not have much computer skills, the device would be able to crack open any
system in seconds. And from there, a
small virus would be implanted that would give his employers full access to the
facility’s systems without the facility’s staff ever being aware of it, even
after the auto hacker was disconnected.
He
stood guard while the auto hacker did its job.
Seconds felt like minutes as he watched the door, unmoving. A tiny, almost inaudible beep told him the
job was done. The system was hacked and
the virus was implanted. He breathed a
sigh of relief, unplugged the auto hacker and headed for the door.
He
reached for the knob just before he came face to face with a guard. The two of them looked at each other for a
moment. Only a moment, and then a tiny
puff of air could be heard and a dart found itself in the guard’s neck. The guard slumped over, suddenly asleep.
He
sighed and prepared to drag the sleeping man into the room. He should have known. Nothing ever went perfectly.
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For best results, read this story with either the Mission Impossible or James Bond theme playing in the the background.
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