"Good," he says. "Welcome to the rest of your life."
The officer drives you to a secret army base located underground, beneath the Wal-Mart in Walpole. There you train for six months in the art of assassinry.
You are trained to kill with precision, using a host of weapons -- or no weapon at all. By the end of your training, you can easily defeat groups of six to ten other men in melee combat. You have become a one-man army.
You are then sent on you first mission. You are given little information. In some unnamed third world country exists a man of considerable power whose picture you are shown. Your mission is to bring about his termination by any means necessary.
You are blind-folded and put on a plane which flies for several hours. When the time comes, the blind-fold is removed. You are handed a back-pack full of weapons, a parachute and a small map.
In the blackness of night, you jump from the plane and open the chute. Using your night-vision goggles, you guide yourself down on top of the building designated by your map. It looks to be a large governmental building in the middle of a city.
Releasing yourself from the parachute, you find your way to a hatch on the building's roof. Peeking inside, you see a hall below with two military guards standing by a door.
You assemble your high-powered rifle with the telescopic lense and a silencing device. You take down both guards with deadly ease.
Putting away the rifle, you drop down into the hall and silently move to the door that was guarded. You assemble the silencer onto your customized pistol, take a deep breath, and kick open the door.
It's a bedroom. Two guards on either side of the doors aim their guns at you. You swiftly drop to the ground as they each clumsily riddle the other with bullets.
Kicking open the door triggered a loud wailing alarm. Soon more guards will be upon you, so you set about completing your task: assassinating the man asleep in the bed.
You approach the bed on the far side of the room swiftly but cautiously, gun aimed at whoever might be there. Finally you see the oldish man, still sleeping -- his ears stuffed with cotton.
Like the cold-blooded killing machine your country has trained you to be, you place the barrel against his sleeping head, and squeeze the trigger.
As soon as the job is done, you make for the door. You approach it from the side, and as you suspect might happen, two guards rush into the room, guns drawn, shouting in a foreign language that sounds familiar, but you can't quite place. As they rush over to the bed, you ice them both.
You approach the door, and peek around the corner. No one is coming, so you dart into the hall and make for the hatch in the roof.
Just as you reach it, however, a solitary guard comes around the corner and is face to face with you.
You double-take.
It couldn't be... but it is!
Milton!
Bedecked in Greek military attire, but otherwise all too recognizeable.
It is clear he
recognizes you as well, as you both hold your guns aimed at each other,
hesitating.