“I just came to assassinate a politician, not blow up the entire White House!”

As Alistair said this he pulled his hands against the cuffs that chained him to the table. He kept them in motion, constantly clinking the chains together as he made elaborate hand motions. The secret service agent’s eye twitched slightly at the jangling but his face was otherwise impassive as until he heard the assassin’s next words.

“You should really get your agents under control. It was way to easy to knock them out and now you got this one guy of yours just going berserk! I thought you were supposed to be like… I don’t know… good at this whole protection thing.”

“We are good at this ‘protection thing’ but you should know, there’s always one.”

The nameless agent smirked, as if he had said something funny, as if he’d scored a verbal hit.

Alastair simply raised his eyebrow in a long practiced motion.

“Oh yes… always one.”

“So who, exactly, we’re you sent to assassinate?”

The mercenary glanced around the bare room, casually interested in the mildewed walls.

“Liam Michaels. I believe he’s your ambassador in Argentina. After the recent… disaster there, he was brought home. Kicked out of the country more like but either way, my benefactor believes it would be best if he was… suitability taken care of, after his last performance.”

The agent’s eyes had constantly narrowed while Alastair spoke but now they flew open.

“Oh, don’t get too excited.”

He told the guard.

“I’m well payed and my word is well. You won’t get the name from me under pain of death. The assassination was my plan until your guard heard about the casualties in Argentina. Now, he holds several important names, begging for the codes to the Football. And politicians aren’t like us.”

He leaned forward for dramatic effect.

“They will break under pain. They won’t even have to be close to death. The first time a paper cut it is inflicted they’ll beg Mr. President to give him the codes.”

The agent licked his lips, seeing sense in his enemy’s words and hating himself for it.

“What are we supposed to do?”

“Nothing. Let me go and I’ll stop him and rescue the hostages. Including P.O.T.U.S..”

“How can we trust you?”

“I’m a mercenary. I’m the bad guy. But one of your hero’s is holding a gun to the Secretary of Defense’s head because he wants revenge. I came to kill a corrupt man, selling arms to the other side, the reason for the failure in Argentina. I had friends there too. I had family there too. But I have no desire to fix that by killing an entire continent. I’m just here for money so I can give them a proper burial.”

“We don’t have money for criminals.”

“Not turning into a giant glow stick from radiation poisoning will be reward enough.”