The Compassionate Kill – The Speakeasy

The Compassionate Kill

BAE Cybernetic Systems: Model 2813/A
>system bootup: complete
>orders received
>Target: Brian Jeppeson a.k.a: The Buffalo
>Compassion Protocol: Active

***

Casper Conway, robotics expert, pushed aside the Fish & Chips in disgust and sipped his beer. Though the dark wood atmosphere of Townsend’s was intended to ease frayed nerves, it wasn’t working on him. “I hate this Compassion Protocol,” he groused. “It introduces unpredictable behaviors.”

Sir Prentis Hughes, Director of MI6’s Cybernetic Division, puffed amiably on a Cuban cigar. “Nothing to be done about it. You can’t nick 2 Billion pounds to build a robotic assassin and not have Parliament notice. The MPs only agreed to the idea if the mechanical killer could murder compassionately.”

“Compassionate murder? I don’t know what that means.”

“Understandable. Even so, I’ve read the reports from the device. Everything is going swimmingly. As long as the target is liquidated, it’s a victory.”

***

BAE Cybernetic Systems: Model 2813/A
>target acquired
>activating pheromone formula PX-547
>engaging

Brian was tense, always tense. Though half a world way Britain, danger lurked everywhere. Trying to relax, he sat in the Triple Rock Brewery in Berkeley, California savoring that singular American fascination: a hamburger. It tasted orders of magnitude superior to that McDonald’s shite, and their micro-brewed Titanium ale was excellent. Berkeley wasn’t too bad, noted the anti-government terrorist. It fostered alternative thinking, with people offering the Communist Newsletter freely. Despite the pleasant distractions, his mind still remained with the UK, and crushing its banking system before it drove the common people into oblivion.

About to take another bite, he froze, when she walked in. Strawberry-blonde hair flowed in torrents across her shoulders. Her cutoff Che Guevarra shirt revealed a lean, attractive midriff above a colorful peasant dress. She sat beside him and ordered in spanish-accented English. The scent of peaches and sandalwood, his favorites, wafted from her delicate shoulders. Brian couldn’t help himself, but soon she noticed him staring. Unoffended, she smiled and began to chat with him. He learned Damika was a student from Ecuador. While chatting, his omnipresent tension began to slip away and he found himself smiling easily, like a schoolboy with his first crush. She laughed often and easily, and before long she asked him to take her home with him. It wasn’t the first such offer he’d had. American girls were drawn to his British accent. Alarm bells tried to ring but they were dampened by the touch of her delicate hand.

As she entered his flat, his survival instinct overrode everything else. He slammed her against the door and placed a knife against her throat screaming, “Who do you work for? Who? Are you MI6?”

“I don’t know this, Emaye Sees! I don’t know her!” Tears flowed like waterfalls.

“I’ll gut you! I swear it!”

And then she did something completely unexpected…she sneezed.

Brian looked at her in shock. She’s about to die and she sneezes? The over-training of MI6 agents would never allow such a lapse of discipline. He dropped the knife and held her shaking body in his arms. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I had to know.”

When the sobs finally stopped she paused to stare into his moist eyes, and then she kissed him. Her passionate touch was like a bonfire in cold woods, a sunrise erupting over mountains, the scintillation of soft fur beneath the fingertips. They made love, first with heat and fury, finishing with soft caresses.

In the weeks that followed, they spent every moment together, enjoying the Sea Lions at Pier 39, fresh Oysters Fisherman’s Market, making love before the sunset at Big Sur. He felt a serenity with her he never imagined before. After a month, his contact finally called him. The hacker, who would help bring down the British banking system spoke in a simulated voice, but Brian barely heard it. Damika lay on the couch wearing only his tee-shirt, her legs propped open, erect nipples poking through the thin material. Her scent wafted to him. Entranced, he set the phone down without a word.

***

BAE Cybernetic Systems: Model 2813/A
>target termination: imminent
>Compassion Protocol anticipates target deceased in 47.3268 years

“The protocol is a disaster!” scowled Conway.

“Is it really?” said Hughes, setting down his brandy. “The Buffalo’s terrorist activities have ceased.”

“They’re getting married!”

“Happily, by all reports.”

Conway stalked off in a huff.

Hughes lit a cigar and mused. The Compassion Protocol contained flaws to be sure, but the result still felt good. Curiously, the rightness eclipsed every mistake made along the way.
______________________________________
Author’s Notes: BAE Systems is a real British company. They’re currently working on an electromagnetic naval Rail Gun for the US Navy. The Triple Rock Brewery in Berkeley is a real place that makes fantastic hamburgers, and their Titanium Ale is awesome.

Written for the Speakeasy, a weekly writing challenge for flash fiction up to 750 words long. This week the sentence, “The rightness eclipsed every mistake made along the way,” must be the last line of the story. The original writing prompt may be found here: http://www.yeahwrite.me/speakeasy/fiction-challenge-158-open/