The Sleeper: Part Four

cooltext1471861634Part Four

Written by Derrick Nadeau

As Greg knelt on the floor, doubled over in pain and spitting up blood, he ran through the events of the evening that led him to this moment in some desperate hope that he might be able to find a way out of his current predicament.  A pleasant dinner with his family interrupted by the knock at the door began Greg’s downward spiral when Sam, the man currently holding a gun to Greg’s head, handed him an envelope with information that would activate Greg’s status as a sleeper agent.  According to the orders contained in the envelope, Greg’s first task would be to eliminate his wife and son, thereby cutting all ties to his past life.  Greg had accomplished the murder of his wife, a task that had broken his heart, but could not bear the thought of killing his own son.  Greg had attempted to escape with his son Peter, but his escape was blocked by Sam and a squad of soldiers that had invaded his home.  To Greg’s horror, Sam brought Peter to the bedroom where his mother’s dead body lie bleeding out while informing Greg that everything he thought he knew was nothing more than a complete lie.

“What are you talking about,” Greg spat as he watched his crying son being dragged out of the bedroom.  “What is going on?”

“Let me explain this too you as succinctly as I can,” Sam said, grinning wickedly as he pushed Greg’s own gun into his temple harshly.  “You see, you think that you are a sleeper agent whose job was to settle into a certain area and settle down with a family until the day that you are finally needed to be activated for some stupid mission.  I believe your mission was supposed to be assassinating that geneticist you work for or some shit like that.”

“Why are you telling me this,” Greg cried out.  “Why are you doing this to me?  Why are you doing this to my son?  What is your game?”

“Don’t interrupt me,” Sam shouted, backhanding Greg with the gun in his hand.  “Let me finish and it will all make sense to you.  I promise.”

Greg coughed up more blood, looked up to his son who could not meet his gaze.  Greg’s heart broke again as he watched his son standing in front of him, staring at the floor with tears streaming down his face.

“Now then,” Sam continued as he moved towards Greg’s son.  “You thought this whole time that your life was leading up to the moment when you would be activated for your ‘true mission’.”

Sam paused a moment to let out a loud, obnoxious laugh.  Greg coughed up more blood and tried, unsuccessfully, to get to his feet.

“The truth is that you have already completed your mission,” Sam stated as he knelt down to look Peter directly in his tear-stained eyes.  “Your true mission was to raise us a new generation of agent.  And you have done that very well.”

“What,” Greg  shouted.  “What the fuck are you saying?”

“My but you really are dense,” Sam laughed.  “Do I really have to spell out every single word for you?  Fine, it will truly be my pleasure to break this to you.  You, my friend, are not the sleeper agent you have always thought you were.  You are, in fact, nothing more than a nanny agent.  Nanny agent, I love saying that.  The truth is that the sleeper agent here is actually this young man right here.”

“No,” Greg spat.  “No!  No! No!  What kind of fucking mind game are you playing now you sick, twisted fuck?”

“Oh, this is no game,” Sam replied with a diabolical chuckle.  “This is the sad truth.  Your son Peter here is the true sleeper agent.  You raised your son with our ideals, taught him to live by the same codes you were raised by.  Hell, you even taught him how to use a gun.  Of course, we taught him how to shoot with accuracy.  When you thought your son was going to a normal school every day, he was really being trained to be a perfect little agent.  Now, he has reached the age where he doesn’t need this little fantasy life you have provided for him, and we can take Peter into our fold and fully train him to be a proper agent.”

“No,” Greg shouted, letting his anger take control of him.  “You are lying!  You sick fuck!  You are lying!”

Greg’s rant was cut short as the three men pointing guns at him teamed up to beat Greg down.  Greg was unable to block the torrent of fists pummeling him, and soon found himself lying on the floor with blood pouring out of several open wounds on his face and body.

“I see you will require proof,” Sam said, throwing a pitiful glance in Greg’s direction.  “I will be happy to give you that proof.  I think it is time we finally end this game any way.”

Sam moved his hand down to Peter’s chin, lifted the child’s head, and gently rubbed the tears from Peter’s cheeks.  Sam smiled down at the sniffling child and gave him a pat on the head.

“Now, now,” Sam addressed Peter with a soothing voice.  “Agents don’t cry child.  It’s time for you to buck up and suck it up.  Now then, pay attention to what I am about to say to you.”

Peter sniffled again as he focused on Sam’s face.

“Good,” Sam said.  “Now then, wake up sleeping agent.  It’s time to activate.”

As Sam said these words, Greg watched in horror as his son’s face suddenly took on a stoic expression.  The tears Peter had been shedding stopped abruptly as his breathing immediately became calm and steady.  Peter looked to Sam with cold, staunch eyes, ignoring everything else around him, including his own father.

“Are you with us agent,” Sam asked.

“Yes Sir,” Peter replied coldly.  “I am here and ready for duty.  Do you have a mission for me Sir?”

“Yes,” Sam replied.  “As a matter of fact I do.  This man on the floor here is responsible for the death of your mother.  Your first mission will be to eliminate him using this gun.”

“It will be my pleasure to complete this mission,” Peter stated, taking Greg’s gun from Sam.

Greg watched in horror and disbelief as Peter walked up to him, pointing the gun directly at Greg’s head.  Greg looked up at his son, begging and pleading Peter to come to his senses and drop the weapon, but Peter ignored Greg’s cries.  With nothing but indifference in his eyes, Peter carefully aimed the gun at Greg’s forehead and coldly pulled the trigger twice.  As Greg’s lifeless body slumped to the floor, Peter turned to Sam and handed him the gun.  Sam walked over to Greg, and kicked his body a couple of times to ensure that he was, in fact, dead.  Satisfied that Greg’s life had been taken, Sam turned to Peter with a smile of approval.

“Well done agent,” Sam lauded.  “You have completed your first mission perfectly.”

“Thank you Sir,” Peter responded coldly.

“All right men,” Sam said, addressing his squad of soldiers, “let’s get this mess taken care of.  Take our new agent to the van so we can get him back to HQ and get him debriefed.  Then, call in the cleaners and have them scrub this place down.”

Sam watched Peter intently as the soldiers led him down the stairs and out the door.  Sam noticed with satisfaction that Peter paid no attention to the body of his dead father as he passed him.  Sam allowed a wry smile to cross his face, taking pride in the young man that he had played a part in sculpting into a perfect sleeper agent.  Once Peter had exited the house, Sam took in a deep breath and proudly began to leave himself, stopping briefly to address Greg’s deceased form.

“Goodbye Gregory,” Sam said, smiling down at Greg.  “Thank you so much for a truly lovely evening.  I  had a fantastic time.  You really know how to throw a party.”

Sam then turned and walked down the stairs and out the front door, laughing hysterically the entire time.

The Sleeper: Part Three


Part Three

Written by Derrick Nadeau

Greg’s mind frantically searched for a way out of his predicament, but was unable to find any solution.  Closing his eyes, Greg ran through the events that had led him to this point in his mind.  Greg had enjoyed his life as a sleeper agent, married to a wonderful wife and raising a good son, but his life had been ruined earlier in the evening when a man arrived at his door handing him an envelope and informing him that he had been activated.  Being activated meant that, in addition  to completing an assignment given to him by his superiors, Greg would also have to kill both his wife and his son to tie up any loose ends from his life as a sleeper.  Though it broke his heart, Greg had completed the first step of his assignment, killing his wife by shooting her in her bed.  The murder of his own wife had left him so distraught that Greg could not bear to kill his son.  Instead, Greg had woken his son up from his slumber and attempted to escape with him.  As Greg and his son attempted to run, his house had been invaded by a squad of men, each carrying a weapon.

Greg stared at the three men pointing guns at he and his son when he was suddenly distracted by the sound of footsteps climbing the stairs.  Greg focused his gaze to the stairs in time to see the man who had activated him earlier in the evening approaching.  Greg’s heart sank as the man walked up to him, paused briefly to look Greg in the eyes, then continued on to the bedroom where Greg’s dead wife lay.  Greg looked down at his son and felt the urge to cry as he witnessed the pure terror in his young son’s eyes.  A moment later, the man who destroyed Greg’s wife walked out of the bedroom, pausing once again to look in Greg’s eyes and shake his head in what Greg could only guess was disappointment, then continued on to the room of Greg’s son.  Greg felt a sudden pain in his chest as the man then walked out of the bedroom carrying the gun that Greg had used to murder his wife.  The man walked up to Greg and his son and pointed the gun at Greg’s head.

“What is your name son,” the man asked Greg’s son.

Greg’s son was too frightened to answer and could only stare up at the man with tear filled eyes.

“Too scared to answer,” the man continued.  “I understand.  It doesn’t matter any way, I know your name is Peter. “

“Please,” Greg pleaded.  “Don’t hurt my son.”

“Shut up,” the man growled, jabbing Greg’s own gun into his forehead.  “Shut up and do not say a word or I will make sure you and your son die a very slow, very painful death.  Now then, Peter, my name is Samuel.  But, you can just call me Sam.”

Sam bent down on one knee, looking Peter directly in the eyes, and let Peter get a look at Greg’s gun in his hands.

“Do you know what this is Peter,” Sam asked.

Peter’s lips trembled as he stammered out his response, “a g-gun.”

“Well, Yes,” Sam agreed.  “But it is more than just any gun.  This is the gun that your father used to kill your mother.”

Peter began to shake his head furiously as tears streamed down his face.

“It’s true,” Sam said, his face taking on an expression of mock sadness.  “I’m sorry to have to tell you that.”

“You are lying,” Peter shouted.

“I know it must be hard for you to believe,” Sam said in a soothing voice.  “But it’s true.  You mom is dead, and your father is the one who killed her with this very gun.”

“Shut up,” Peter screamed.  “You are lying!  I don’t believe you.”

Sam let out a long sigh before standing back up and turning to one of the three men pointing guns at Greg.  “Take him in and show him.”

“No, please,” Greg said, resulting in one of the men to jab the butt of his gun into Greg’s ribs.

As one of the other men grabbed Peter and dragged the screaming boy into his parents bedroom, Sam turned to face Greg, who was doubled over in pain from the shot to his ribs.  Greg coughed as he clutched his sore ribs, and a few specks of blood found their way to the corner of his mouth.

“Why would you do that to him,” Greg asked between coughs.

“You surprised me tonight Gregory,” Sam said, examining Greg’s gun in his hands.  “I am always surprised by you sleeper agents.  No matter how many times I do this, I can never figure out what you fools will do.  I can never anticipate how you will react.  I guess, ultimately, that’s what makes my job so much fun.”

“What the fuck are you talking about,” Greg asked, spitting blood towards Sam.

“Oh, this is my absolute favorite part,” Sam replied with a hint of glee in his voice.  “It might be a bit of a cliché, but I absolutely love this part where I get to explain everything to you right before I kill you.  I completely understand why villains in movies do this.”

Before Sam could continue, he was interrupted by the cries of Peter in the bedroom.

“Ah, I see your son has seen your handiwork,” Sam said.  “That’s certainly going to scar him for life.  That will make him easier to keep in line.”

“What do you mean,” Greg asked, suddenly horrified.

“This is my favorite part,” Sam said, leaning in close to Gregory and speaking softly.  “The truth is that you aren’t what you think you are.  You were never what you thought you were.  Everything you thought you knew was a complete lie.”

“What are you talking about,” Greg asked, spitting blood again.

Sam straightened up, flashed a wicked grin at Greg, then turned to face Greg’s bedroom.

“Bring the kid back out here,” Sam called out.  “Let’s show Gregory here who the real sleeper agent is.”

The Sleeper: Part Two

cooltext1471861634Part Two

Written by Derrick Nadeau

Greg stood next to his bed and stared down through tear soaked eyes at his dead wife bleeding out in front of him.  The last few hours of the day ran through his mind like an unstoppable train of horror and sorrow.  Greg’s entire life began to fall apart the moment a strange man arrived at his door during dinner and informed Greg that he was no longer a sleeper agent living a quiet life in the suburbs, but had at that moment been activated to complete an assignment.  To Greg’s horror, being activated meant that he had to destroy all evidence of the life he had built as a sleeper agent, including killing his wife and son.  Greg had struggled with his task for hours afterwards, drinking scotch and rereading the assignment notes until he had at last built up the courage to begin his assignment.  Even as his heart was breaking, Greg somehow found the nerve to shoot his wife as she lay asleep in their bed.  The act of murdering the woman he loved nearly tore Greg’s soul apart, but he managed to hold himself together in order to complete his assignment.  Greg wondered at that moment how other sleeper agents dealt with such pain, but then thought that perhaps they did not allow themselves to become attached to anyone the way Greg had.  Greg’s mind began to wander down the path of what it actually meant to be a sleeper agent when he suddenly snapped himself back to reality.  There was still one more task for Greg to complete in order to separate himself from his past life, and Greg was left with no other choice.  Killing his wife had pushed Greg past the point of backing out, the only option left was to murder his own son.

With tears still streaming down his face, Greg turned and slowly walked out his bedroom, into the hallway, and continued to his son’s room.  Greg placed his hand on the door of his son’s room, thankful that it had been closed and had hopefully kept his son from waking up, and paused long enough to compose himself.  Greg took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then slowly opened the door to his son’s room.  Once his eyes had adjusted to the darkness of the room, lit only by the wash from the hallway light, Greg took a quick scan and saw that his son remained in his bed, undisturbed and sleeping peacefully.  Greg fought back the urge to cry again as he quietly walked over to his son’s bed.

Greg stared down at his sleeping son as a surge of memories flooded his mind, causing such sorrow that he began to feel actual physical pain in his heart.  The birth of his son had been the single greatest joy in Greg’s life, and that joy now lay shattered at the bottom of his heart as he prepared to murder his own son.  Greg could feel his hands shaking, almost losing his grip on the gun he had just used to kill his wife.  Greg sucked in a quick gasp of air, tightened his grip on the gun, and forced his nerves to calm down.  Greg closed his tear soaked eyes and raised his gun towards his son.

Greg took several more deep breaths to calm himself, opened his eyes,  and lowered his gun.

“I can’t do this,” Greg whispered to himself.  “I can’t kill my own son.  I can’t.”

As Greg stood there, staring at the gun in his hand, he began to hear the sound of music playing.  Greg quickly realized that the music was coming from his son’s cellphone lying on the nightstand beside his son’s bed.  In a panic, Greg grabbed the phone, tried unsuccessfully to shut the phone off, then threw it out into the hallway.  Greg’s first instinct was to run out of the room and keep running, but the sound of his son’s voice caused Greg’s mind to suddenly go blank.

“Dad,” Greg’s son croaked in a sleepy voice.  “What’s going on?  What are you doing in my room?”

“I-” Greg began to answer his son, but quickly found that no words came to his mind.

“Dad, are you okay?”

“I’m so sorry,” Greg finally whispered.

“What did you say,” Greg’s son asked, sitting up to face his father.

Gregory could not answer his son, but instead dropped to his knees, allowing the gun to slip from his hands and slide down to the floor.  As Greg dropped, some unknown object struck the wall behind him exactly where his head had been a moment before.  Greg realized instantly from the sound of the impact that the object that had hit the wall was a bullet.  At that moment, Greg let his survival instincts take control, grabbing his son and pulling him out of his bed onto the floor.  Greg pulled his son close to him as he crouched down near the bed and tried to quickly plan his next move.  Greg looked over to the door of his son’s room, made a quick distance judgment, then focused his attention on his panicked son.

“Listen to me now,” Greg shouted, trying to hold his son’s attention.

“What is going on dad,” Greg’s son cried out.

“Listen to me,” Greg barked again.   “Just focus on me.  Don’t worry about anything else.  Just focus on me.”

“I’m confused dad.”

“Don’t worry, I will explain everything after.  Right now I just need to get you out of here.  To do that, we need to make a quick run out the door of your bedroom.  But you need to stay low and get out as quickly as you can.  Do you understand?”

“What is this?  What-“

“Don’t worry about that now,” Greg replied, grabbing his son by the shoulders and forcing him to focus.  “You need to do what I tell you.  Do you understand me son?”

“Okay,” Greg’s son replied, staring at his father’s face.  “I understand Dad.”

“Good.  Now, when I tell you too, you need to run out to the hallway as quickly as you can.  But, you also need to stay as low to the floor as you can.  Understand?”

“Yes Dad,” Greg’s son replied.  “I got it.  Run to the hallway.  Stay low.”

“Good.  Now get ready.”

Greg and his son moved to the edge of the bed and prepared themselves for the quick run out the bedroom door.  Greg paused for a moment, signaled his son to be quiet, then listened closely to the surrounding area.  Greg’s eyes widened as he heard the sound of whispered voices coming from somewhere outside his house.  At that moment, Greg realized that his handlers had been watching him since the moment he had been activated.  Having failed to kill his own son, Greg knew that his superiors would send in a team of specialists to clean up the mess he had caused.  At that moment, Greg decided he would do all he could to save the life of his son.

“Are you ready.” Greg asked.

“Yes Dad,” his son replied as he crouched down like a cat about to pounce on its prey.

Greg took one more deep breath and stared at the doorway that now represented his son’s salvation.

“Go!  Now,” Greg shouted as he instantly ran towards the door.  Though they tried to stay as low as the could, Greg and his son were forced to expose themselves as they left the safety of the bed and ran to the doorway.  Several more gunshots ruptured the wall near them, and Greg realized that there must be a shooter in the house of their neighbor across the street.  Greg wondered briefly if that meant that his neighbors had been killed as well, but quickly pushed that though out of his mind.  Though it seemed like an eternity, Greg and his son reached the doorway in seconds, stopping only once they had made it safely into the hallway.  Greg grabbed his son once again and quickly scanned him for any injuries.  Greg let out a sigh of relief when he saw that his son had made it out of the bedroom unscathed.

“Are you okay,” Greg asked his son.  “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine Dad.  I’m just confused.”

Greg embraced his son and let his tears flow freely.  The only thing on Greg’s mind at that moment was the love he felt for his son.  Nothing else in the world seemed to matter as Greg and his son stood in the upstairs hallway hugging each other.  The moment was soon ruined by the sound of loud pounding on the front door of the house.  Greg let go of his son, moved to the top of the stairs to look down.  Suddenly, the front door burst open and several men burst through, pointing guns in front of them as then entered.  The men spotted Greg instantly and ran up the stairs towards him.  Greg tried to grab his son and flee to one of the bedrooms, but the men were upon him before he could run.  Greg held his son close to him as three men surrounded him and pointed their guns at him.

The Sleeper: Part One


Part One

Written by Derrick Nadeau

Greg had just sat down to dinner with his wife and son when the doorbell rang.  Greg frowned in the direction of the door,  then looked back at his wife who returned his look of disdain. Greg let out a sigh, stood up, moved to answer the door in the front hallway.  On the other side of the door stood a man in a grey suit and black trench coat. his face stern and joyless.

“Good evening,” Greg said calmly.  “Can I help you?”

“Are you Gregory Sanders,” The man asked.

“I am,” Greg replied cautiously.

“You have been activated,” the man stated, he handed Greg a sealed envelope.  “This is your assignment.”

“I see,” Greg said, feeling despair grip his heart as he stared down at the envelope.

“You have until the morning to prepare for the assignment,” the man continued.   “You must be ready to begin your assignment by dawn tomorrow.  All information regarding your assignment can be found in that folder.”

“Understood,” Greg said again, looking back up at the man before him.

“That is all I have for you,” the man said as he turned and began walking away.  “Good evening.”

“Yeah,” Greg answered back realizing that his mouth had gone completely dry.  “Goodbye.”

Greg closed the door, walked to his study adjacent to the front hallway, and placed the envelope in the top drawer of his desk.  Greg stared down at the desk and took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself down.  Though he knew the day of his activation would eventually come, it had been twenty-two years since Greg had been placed in his small community as a sleeper agent, and he had foolishly allowed himself to believe that he would never be activated at all.  No matter what happened, Greg’s life would be permanently changed once dawn arrived.  Greg took one last, long, deep breath to steady his nerves, and let it out slowly before returning to the dinner table.

“Who was that,” Greg’s wife asked.

“Oh,” Greg replied pausing briefly to decide on a convincing lie.  “It was just some religious people trying to get me to join their church or something like that.”

“Those people are so annoying,” Greg’s wife spouted off.  “Not bad enough they come and bug you, but to do it at dinnertime?  That is just completely rude!  I hope you gave them a piece of your mind.”

“Not really,” Greg said, smiling at his wife’s  indignation.  “I wanted to get back to our lovely dinner as quickly as possible, so I just got rid of them as fast as I could.”

“Well then, I can’t blame you for that,” Greg’s wife laughed.

Greg pushed the thoughts of his assignment to the back of his mind and tried his best to enjoy his final dinner and conversation with his family.  After dinner,Greg helped his wife clear off the dining room table and then excused himself telling her that he had a big assignment for work the next day that he needed to go over in his study.  Once he was in his study, Greg closed the door, poured himself a scotch, and sat down to read through his assignment.  Greg took a sip of his scotch, opened the envelope, and removed the contents.  The envelope  contained several pages of typed information accompanied by a handful of pictures.  Greg quickly read through the typed pages, instructions and pertinent information on a target Greg was to assassinate, searching for one single piece of information that he hoped he would not find.  Greg’s heart sank quickly when he finally stumbled across the one sentence he had been dreading.

Before you begin your assignment, your wife and son must be eliminated.  

Greg took another long swig of his scotch and read the line again.

Before you begin your assignment, your wife and son must be eliminated.

When Greg had first been planted as a sleeper agent, he had known that he could be activated at any given moment of any day, but he never expected it would take twenty-two years.  In that time, Greg had slowly allowed himself to grow comfortable in his role as a common man.  Five years later, Greg met and fell in love with his wife, leading to the birth of their son five years after that.  Greg’s handlers had been very supportive of his decision to take on a family, which led Greg to eventually believe that he might never be fully activated.  Greg had taken employment as an assistant to a scientist in the genetics field, and he believed that as long as he continued leaking the scientist’s research to his handlers, Greg might never need to be activated and he could enjoy the life he had built for himself.    Greg felt a sadness wash over him as he read through the assignment given to him.  Greg’s main objective was to assassinate the scientist he had been working for, and had become friends with, for several years.  The assignment would be difficult enough without the fact that Greg would also have to destroy his family and erase the life that had made him truly happy.

Greg poured himself another scotch, pulled a set of keys out of his pocket, and unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk.  Greg reached into the drawer, pulled out a black case, and placed it on the desk before him.  Greg took another long drink of scotch, and stared at the case for a long, sorrowful moment before finally opening it to reveal a nine millimeter pistol and silencer.  Greg pulled the gun out of the case and  attached the silencer hesitantly.  Once the silencer was attached, Greg took another drink of scotch and stared at the gun with an expression of repugnance.  Greg had often enjoyed going to the local gun club to practice his shooting, even taking his son with him on several occasions, but now the gun in his hand was the tool he would use to destroy what he loved the most.

Greg finished the scotch in his glass, took one more deep breath, and headed out of his study to begin his assignment.  As Greg slowly walked up the stairs to his bedroom where his wife had already gone to bed, his mind began to flood with memories.  Thoughts of Greg and his wife moving into their new home when they were still newlyweds bled into memories of the day they brought home their newborn son, which then turned into memories of dinners with his family, parties with friends, and all of the wonderful times Greg shared with his wife and son.  Once Greg reached the top of the stairs, he moved as silently as he could to the bedroom where his wife lay sound asleep.

Once in the bedroom, Greg walked up to his wife’s side of the bed and looked down at her.  In the faint light flooding in from the hallway, Greg’s wife looked serene as she slept.  Greg wanted nothing more than to grab his wife, embrace her, and hold her tightly in his arms, but he knew that he would never be able to complete his assignment if he allowed her to wake up.  Greg grabbed a pillow from his side of the bed, placed it over his wife’s head, and aimed his gun down at her.  Greg could feel his hand shaking from the emotions welling up inside him, and tears began to stream down his face.  Greg tried to steel his nerves, but was too distraught to find any sort of calmness.  Closing his eyes for a moment, Greg tried to imagine that the woman he was about to kill was not his wife, but rather some stranger he had never met before that he had not emotional attachment to.

As Greg tried to calm himself, his wife suddenly stirred and let out a muffled moan.  Greg panicked suddenly, fearing that his wife was about to waken, and instinctively pulled the trigger of his gun, firing a bullet through the pillow.  Greg’s heart began to race as his wife’s body went suddenly limp, and he fired two more quick rounds into the pillow.  Greg, now a mess of nerves and adrenaline, held his breath and quickly scanned the area around him, listening for any indication that his son had been woken up.  When he was satisfied that all was quiet, Greg moved the pillow from his wife’s head and angrily threw it across the room.  Even in the dim light provided by the hallway, Greg could tell that his bullets had found their marks.

“Oh God,” Greg whispered as he watched his wife’s blood pool out onto the bed.  “What the fuck have I done?  I just killed my wife!  What have I done?”

Greg fell to his knees and let the tears flow from his eyes for a few brief moments.  Greg then closed his eyes and took several deep breaths to calm himself.  With the murder of his wife now completed, Greg knew that everything he built was now destroyed.  The life he had led was over, and Greg had no choice but to continue on with his assignment.  Accepting the fact that it was now too late to turn back, Greg stood up, his shaking knees threatening to send him crashing back down to the floor, and prepared himself for the next step of his assignment.  Greg’s wife had been eliminated, next, he would have to kill his son.

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