He had not felt like this since his last days in MI-6, when he had been sent for a secret mission in Iraq. Just like now, he had been tasked with recovering an important individual, so he could be brought back to base and interrogated. Information was a valuable element, and it needed to be extracted as swiftly as possible from this person. Fred knew that while he would use violence and most likely kill opponents, he was absolutely forbidden from hurting his target. The operation had gone wrong, several of his comrades had been killed or captured, and he had barely managed to get himself out alive. But even on that day, he never felt uncomfortable not worried, nor afraid. Fred was like a machine at this stage. And with the feeling that he had been betrayed by his own country when accused of not fulfilling his mission to the satisfaction of his superiors (even though the target had been acquired, and brought back to a secret base for questioning), he had preferred to leave the force.
Today, he was feeling the same, but he also knew his mysterious boss was a nut, who seemed to have gone crazy about chasing and kidnapping important religious leaders in God’s name. But Fred could care less, he was doing it for the money, and ensuring he would have the life he always wanted. Well, not always. He had first wanted to fight for Britain and be one of the “good guys.” But after the Iraq incident, he knew the only solace he’d find would be in money and acting as a mercenary.
For now, Fred had killed two men, managing to produce minimal noise, and intently listening to the hallway and the others in the building, he was sure no one had any sense of what was happening.
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