9/11 Creative Writing

“Sometimes I really hate this job,” the hero mutters to himself. Alone, he sits down in front of the mantle in an old, dilapidated house. He leans back against a couch and takes off his mask and belt, then sets them next to his gun on a cracked coffee table. He wipes the sweat from his brow, and flicks it into the rubble blocking the doorway. A cold breeze blows in from a hole in the wall to his left. The quiet, though unnerving, was relaxing. He leans his head back onto the couch and takes a deep breath of the Swedish air. It reminds him of times long passed. The hero pulls out a small card, a picture, of a beautiful mountain landscape. Peace and serenity seeming to emanate from this small photograph. In the foreground is a person, a man,

He contemplates his dilemma in silence. The dilemma being that the hero questions the motives of what he has done. He has always remained cold and aloof from everyone to prevent getting attached. Attachment opens the possibility of loss, loss generates weakness, and weakness is not acceptable. “Weakness gets you killed.” Here he stands, still alive, but parts of him missing. Khan strokes his thin, white beard and ponders for a few moments. He opens his mouth, pauses for a moment, then says, “From the moment you were thrown into this world, you were fated to bring much death. Despite this, remember that a man chooses, a slave obeys. You reap what you sow. Force answers with force, war breeds war, and death only brings death. To break this vicious cycle, one must do more than act without any thought or

“I wish I knew the answer.” “We all make choices, but in the end, our choices make us.” “I didn’t ask for this!” the hero blurts out, returning to the crumbling home. He picks up his belt and mask, puts them on, and returns his gun to its holster. He stands up and ambles over to the hole in the wall, surveying the landscape before him. In the distance, he can see the compound where his target, Adam, a rogue agent of The Order, is hiding. “I was told to kill a man in that compound for opposing The Order,” the hero thinks to himself. “They say that if I manage this, I’ll be a hero. They tell me, I’ll bring peace to a world of chaos. Is this the truth? Is it a lie?” The hero shakes his head to clear his thoughts. He steps over the low wall and steps foot back into the dirt. A kilometer stands between the hero and his target. “Best that I make it there as the sun sets, I’ll need the cover of darkness.” The hero begins his trek across the