I am Devin Thomas. I work as a counterterrorism operative for the army. That’s the PC way of saying, I’m a government assassin. If you’re planning an attack on the United States of America, you should know about me. I am very good at what I do, and what I do, is frickin’ fun. I will hunt you down and kill you, and I will thoroughly enjoy every second of it. You’ve been warned.

After 9-11, President Bush called me into his office. He told me that from now on I had one mission in life. My reason for existing is to hunt down and kill Osama Bin Laden. I have lived with that as my mission for nine years now, and my mission is coming to a close.

I was holed up in a cave in the Iraqi desert, glued to my sniper scope. I was watching this town; I knew he was there. The guy’s eighty years old, but he doesn’t travel with anyone older than 21. Kinda sticks out. I’d been watching this town for a week; waiting for him to cross my sights. I’d been down into the town to do some up-close recon; but I couldn’t do that too often. I’ve dealt with some of the Iraqi people before, and a lot of them really don’t like me too much. I’m heartbroken. So most of the time I stayed up in the cave and watched.

I moved my scope just a little bit, keeping an eye on that one doorway. I was fairly sure that that’s where Osama would be; but if it wasn’t, I’d just wasted a week; and I would not be happy.

A man came out of the house. Young guy; no older than 20. I focused in on him, getting a good look at his face. I pressed a button on my scope; and instantly it took a picture and sent it to Langley. In the next twelve hours I would have the whole file on this guy. I focused back in on him. He was acting kind of weird; he didn’t go anywhere, he just kind of paced back and forth in front of the door, looking nervous.

Now I’ve been a Counterterrorist for fifteen years; but you don’t have to work in CT that long to know that when a suspected terrorist is pacing around, waiting for something, looking nervous; it’s probably time for you to get nervous too.

He leaned back against the wall and pulled out a cell phone, talked into it for a little bit; and then hung up. But he didn’t hang up fast enough. I’d read his lips; and I was already moving. It was time for some personal intervention.

It’s a half-hour drive down the mountain into the town; and from there about five minutes to where I wanted to be. That’s driving normal speed, when I don’t want to attract attention. This was, ‘Devin’s ticked off and doesn’t care’ speed. I was there in fifteen minutes.

Parking, walking up to the door, knocking, talking to whoever answers the door… that’s all good when you’re dealing with nice, normal people. But when you’re dealing with the scum of the earth like I do; that stuff’s for losers. Now, crashing through the front wall, coming out, guns blazing? That’s more like it.

I jumped out of the car, the tangos saw the muzzle flash from my AR-15 before the dust had cleared enough for them to see me, if they even saw that before they bit the dust. I shot everyone in the room and then moved on to the back. If Osama was in the house, he was in there and I had a max of ten seconds before he blew us all to kingdom come. I kicked in the door and stuck in my AR.

There he was, lying on a couch, C-4 wrapped around his body, all around the room in fact; his right hand reaching for a detonator. I put two rounds in his head.

See, the thing about killing people is that their nervous system doesn’t just immediately shut down. It keeps working for at least a couple more seconds, finishing whatever task it started. That’s what happened here. He died a couple seconds before he hit the button, but he hit the button.

Crap.
I moved out the door into the street; just in time too. I saw a big black limousine, coming down the street; two U.S. flags on it’s hood.

I put two bullets in its tires; sprayed down the windshield with bullets, and ran off; ducking as the Secret Service agents dived out of the car and shot at me. I ducked around a corner, just as the building I’d just been in exploded in fame.

And because I don’t exist; because I’m not legally allowed to serve my country; I would forever be remembered in history as the mysterious man who tried to kill the President; first with bullets, then with a bomb. Just another day in my life.