The Assassin’s Ascension, Jared Lopin Age 11
Chapter 1, Moscow Air
The searchlight played over the exquisite design of red square, he stood there, eyes fixed on the Kremlin, official residence of the Russian president and one of the most heavily guarded places in Russia. For a moment the young mid twenty-year-old with neat cropped black hair and stunningly bright blue eyes was frozen at the edge of the markets in Kitai Gorod, Going over the plan in his head thirty times a minute. Finally he snapped out of the quiet spell he was in and responded to the instruction of his case officer. “Agent November, The Communications have been disabled inside, proceed with mission 406-A.” Her shrill voice rang colder than the freezing moscow air.
The officials of the KGB had received the puzzling report only hours ago, that the president and the staff of the Kremlin were secretly being held hostage by a corrupt european governor named Kristoff Calvon and his private army. The rest of the world and almost the entire Russian population was not aware of this dire situation. November and his case officer April were told to neutralize the threat.
The security, an army-for-hire called Shoreline would be no threat to him, they were a bottom line mercenary team that were not highly trained, he could get in without being detected by them. The only real threat that was posed by the situation was the Calvon’s private guard, a group of ten highly trained men loyal to a fault.
As he lightly paved through the grass and beautiful gardens November heard the distant talk of Shoreline mercs. “If those KGB swabs show their faces here we’ll light em’ up bru.” The army’s failing grasp on english and their ridiculous African accents provided a small bit of thrill and amusement in avoiding their sight.
Two minutes after he had been given the go-ahead, November was inside the Kremlin, standing outside the main ballroom where the Calvon was. Before he went in, He contacted his case officer. “I got in undetected,” he said. “Well almost.” glancing at the two dead Shoreline soldiers who had seen him, wondering how he was detected. “Tell Kross to be ready for extraction in T-minus 4 minutes.”
He entered the ballroom quickly, all he heard was “Hey! Get out or we will open fire, put your hands…” he swiftly drew his silenced TT33 and shot the Calvon two times rapidly in the face. He would always remember that moment, the sharp noise of the gun and the silet thud of the door behind him. The first night he killed without knowing everything. November fled as quickly and quietly as he entered, with just one bullet ever coming close to wounding him. As he made his way to the extraction site he could see a KGB helicopter, and surely enough in the windows he saw April, and Karlov Kross.
“Anything out of the ordinary agent ?” were the last words November remembered from that night, The night he had tried to erase. The night of The Kremlin Assassination.
10 years later
Daniel Smith awoke early that crisp Monday morning, the fight with his stations manager still vaguely ringing in his mind. He grudgingly got out of bed, got ready and headed to work. Daniel smith worked as a senior field agent for the FBI, and today was his last day till his 2 month mission to Paris.
When he entered work he realized it was already 8:58 so he hurried to the large meeting room down the hall. As he walked into the large dome room with a large conference table, he spotted three people sitting, Carter, his stations manager, Harold Brown, the director of the FBI, and a woman he didn’t recognize.
When he was seated, Harold said. “Mr Smith this is Caroline Ross, she runs the Central Intelligence Agency, or CIA.” “Greetings Ms Ross.” Daniel uttered, he personally had no respect for the CIA despite their connection with the FBI. After being given the go-ahead by Harold Brown, Caroline ross began to speak. “Gentlemen, we are at the precipice of disaster, although it is of no surprise to you, the amount of terrorist attacks recently have been growing in number.” “Which brings upon my purpose in being here.” She started “We have reason to believe that a high rolling businessman named Victor Calvon is the target of a terrorist attack by the Claw Of Lion.”
“It is most likely this attack will happen on his business trip to London next week..” “And that’s why you’re shipping me to London” Daniel interrupted. “In a nutshell, yes, that is why you are going to london Mr. Smith.” said Harold Brown. Daniel stood up and walked toward the door, then he turned around and only said “Can I..” before being interrupted by Harold, “Yes Mr. Smith, you can bring your dog.” A look of relief crashed over Daniel as he realized he would not be on this mission alone.
London, England
Smith awoke just as his 6 hour flight was ending, and after a painstaking amount of time, his baggage arrived. As he walked to the parking lot with Caesar, his German shepard, he saw a silver agency sedan that had been sent to pick him up. On either side of the shining car were two men. Although the men were dressed like wandering tourists, Daniel could tell that’s only what they wanted people to think. One of the men had forgotten to remove his fancy business belt, and the other was still wearing overly-expensive shoes.
“Where are we going?” Daniel had asked the two men in the front of the car a question to which he already knew the answer. As Caesar sat on his lap, Daniel looked out the window and recognized the route, they were going to the FBI safe flat just north of St James Park.
Magdeburg, Germany
It was a cold evening in Magdeburg, Germany as a strange man stepped out of his stone lodge
to confront the cold and light of the town, this man was known by everyone in the village, but nothing was truly known about him. It seemed like everyone in the village had a theory for who he was, former soldier, spy, or just a man who prefered to be alone.
The only thing that was agreed on about him, was that everyone resented him for being better than anyone at anything he did. The men were jealous of his clean cropped black hair speckled with grey and his piercing blue eyes, the children were jealous of his perfectly maintained Italian racing bike, and the women in the town were jealous of his expensive imported clothing.
The town only knew him as Rosbach.
Chapter 2: The “Paddington Station Attack”
The new Friday morning held no significance to Daniel. He was woken up by Caesar jumping on to the rusting twin-size bed. As he walked to the living room of the safe flat he saw the two men who had brought him there squeezed onto a small couch watching channel five news. He took a slow walk around the flat with Caesar, it had been changed from the last time he was here, there was furniture, paintings and a balcony.
After rummaging through the crummy cabinets to find breakfast, Daniel was told to get ready to leave. Dressed and ready to go, Daniel was soon back in the silver sedan with the two men and Caesar. From the way they were driving, Daniel could tell the driver was trying to avoid surveillance.
A whole hour of back streets and alleyways later, the sedan pulled up to paddington station. As Smith got out of the car, he saw Calvon with an escort of bodyguards and security, just as Daniel was about to board the same train as Calvon, a man emerged from the security exit to the left of Daniel. The man slowly walked past the departing trains he pulled what appeared to be a
balaclava over his head and then immediately took cover, not a millisecond later, five more men wearing balaclavas emerged from the shadows and started firing AK-47s at the crowd. Daniel and his entourage took cover behind some rubble and fired back at the attackers, Daniel poked his head out to see Calvon’s train barreling away. “They’re too Late.” Daniel thought before being forced back into cover by gunfire.
As the firefight continued daniel got a call from Carter, “Daniel we’ve intercepted a message from the terrorists Calvon’s not the target, they’re there for you!” “Yeah I figured that by now” Daniel turned to fire at the terrorists “These sons of bitches won’t leave!” Daniel yelled while reloading his trusted beretta.


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