It seems a normal morning as the repair truck rolled up to the loading dock of the Airport Hotel. Today the President would be giving a speech to his constituents in the main ballroom. Wearing a single piece workman’s overalls and cap and carrying a large tool box, the journeyman handyman strolled to the guard’s desk to sign in as a contractor. A quick check showed that the contractor was on the scheduled list for the day. Housekeeping staff walked up and down the linoleum floored corridor with the occasional full suited Secret Service agent making his presence known. One glance from the agent looking the worker over made a dismissive expression and walked on by.

He knew exactly where to go as he took an authorized “Employee Only” door as planned which was a staircase leading upward to the meeting room and catering level. Beyond that was a private hallway that went up to the observation level that was windowed with two way mirror glass and projector equipment for presentations but on this day it was closed except for the visitor, who quickly began unloading the contents of his large tool box. He pulled out what looked like a large industrial stapler until he unfolded a stock and screwed on a barrel! He then quickly loaded a magazine that he had checked to make sure the 26 caliber ammunition was fully loaded. This is was Russian compact commando miniature submachine gun, a larger caliber version of the Israeli Uzi.

There was a tap on the door! It was the guard who would maintain surveillance until the mission was complete and he would flee too. Below, a full-fledged festivity of food, beverage, and banquet table affair was in full swing as everyone awaited the president to take stage. The Secret Service were already encircled around the platform. Camera men were rolling at the foot of the stage for a frontal shot. The audience buzzed with anticipation over the state of the union and military matters concerning unidentified crafts that had been spotted over many of the nation’s airports and military bases. The people were expecting the same mundane explanations, misidentifications, unauthorized drones, weather phenomenon, or simply hoaxers! The mainstream media was good at regurgitating this kind of dogma.

The guard nodded to the shooter briefly to signal everything was fine and he continued assembling his tools of evisceration. The silencer screwed onto the end of the barrel which also served as a flash suppressor which would delay the witness identification of where the shots would be coming from. Secret Service Agent, Terry Walker, strode up the stairs to the projector room, but was stopped by the hotel security guard who assured him the room was closed and off-limits to anyone and that he had just checked it. The agent appeared relieved that this one of many of his check points was already secure. He nodded and headed back down to the lower corridor.

Buck Rainier, the shooter, had been in Special Forces, retired and become a mercenary. The cause was just. Intelligence from whistle blowers in the Pentagon revealed that an Alien presence had infiltrated the US federal government and an imposter was now actingas the US president. In actuality, the president had been replaced with an operative from another civilization from the Zeta Reticuli star system. They had been visiting earth for decades abducting people, now and this was just one step in their plan for world domination. There was just one catch. Their plans had been discovered and a deep state counter movement was underway, unbeknownst to the general public and compartmentalized from most armed forces sources, though there were there traitors who had sold out to the alien invaders!

There had been earlier attempts. Failed airplane crashes as Air Force One routinely changed schedules to avert planned assassination attempts. Another prior shooter had been forced to stand down when unexpected changes had foiled the window of opportunity, but this time seemed to be coming to fruition! If it didn’t, Buck had his cyanide capsule to ensure he would not endure interrogation but more importantly that the undetected espionage movement against the aliens would not be discovered! Every other phase of the mission was in place including his planned escape route!

Buck glanced downward just in time to see the president taking the stage! AKA Lance Thompson POTUS as he was code named by the Secret Service, his real name according to his alien world, was unrepeatable in human tongue, but it translated into “Liberator X” in his native language. He slowly slid the two way mirror panel open just a crack and stepped back a few inches from the window so as not to be spotted and raised the small but deadly commando machine gun. He had to wait for just the right moment. He was using a portable eye piece that magnified his target. People had to move out of the way, unnecessary collateral victims would hopefully move as well. Sweat tricked down his forehead. He didn’t want to hit bystanders as he fired the first short bursts, but the ultimate objective had to be obtained as it outweighed all other considerations.

He breathed slowly but deeply to settle down and concentrate on this imposter who was not even human. It was now or never! The sweat dripped from his nose as he finally had a clear target and squeezed the trigger! A slight muzzle flash effectively suppressed, sent a burst of ordnance at the stage striking the president in the head! His skull burst open to the horror of all witnesses who reacted like a stampede of cattle running and screaming in all directions! Many were too stricken with fear to see the green fluid splattering from the dead president’s cranium! As planned, the electrical circuits to the overhead lights were shut down at the box by the co-conspiring guard who also locked down the control panel! Now chaos and confusion set in as Buck quickly pulled off his overalls revealing the hotel uniform he would now be wearing as he pushed the tool box and disassembled machine gun under a couch and tore off his gloves stuffing them into a trash container as he strolled out of the observation deck room.

Screams could clearly be heard now as he descended the “Employee Only” hallway to just above the loading dock level to the concourse bringing him to the reservation lobby and a corridor leading to the parking garage just beyond the concourse tunnel. Perspiring now but trying to remain outwardly calm, Buck walked calmly down the tunnel to a row of rental cars that waited to his right. He came to the number he’d been instructed to take and found the keys on the driver side rear tire as expected. He started the engine and drove at 20 miles per hour down and around to the toll booth where he handed a ticket he found underneath the visor to the garage attendant who flipped the switch that raised the gate. As he drove away he saw Secret Service agents scrambling to close off entrances and exits to the multi-level parking building and breathed a sigh of relief.

Instead of taking the main highway in and out of the airport entrance which would be blocked off, Buck steered onto “Aviation Services Rd.” which would eventually take him back onto the interstate headed into town. The plan had worked perfectly. All actions by the Secret Service had been anticipated and neutralized. His co-conspirator hotel guard had gone walked into a man’s restroom and taken off the life-like silicone mask throwing it into a trash container and blended into the crowd as the Secret Service lockdown procedure impotently attempted to contain whoever had shot the president. He already had a hotel room checked out in a different name and calmly ordered room service once he had arrived in the room.

Once Buck had entered onto the freeway headed into town and leaving the chaos of a shocked hotel behind, he calmed down a bit. Taking some deep breaths, he next headed for his motel room, already reserved and with liquor ready for his consumption. It was an old franchise chain well known to tired travelers, and he was one of them. When he got in, he quickly flipped the TV to one of the news channels and poured himself a drink. The hotel room phone rang 3 times, hung up, and rang 3 more times. That was the signal that everything had gone as planned and to hang tight until further instructions.

As for the work van sitting in a parking lane near the hotel loading dock, investigators could find no current owner existed and the van had been purchased in cash weeks in advance, but could be traced no further. The entire mission had come off without a hitch! Thanks to the planning of the underground resistance that knew far more than the typical citizens who lived in an air of false complacency.

Philip Townsend, veteran newsman and talk show host, had his marching orders. The network had issued their script for him to recite as only the official version would be released to an unsuspecting public! “Ladies and gentlemen, I have some tragic news for you today as our President, Lance Thompson, has been assassinated and no suspects have been captured so far. In the midst of a lavish celebration at the Airport Hotel, a shooter fired onto the stage platform from a deck above killing the president and wounding bystanders who only suffered non-life threatening injuries! Further details at this time are scarce and we will be getting back to you as more information is presented. A spokesperson for the Secret Service, Gerald Brown, says that all resources are being utilized to capture those responsible and bring them to justice! We here at the news channel are sorry to bring you this news as our nation mourns for the president and his family.”

Notably, all footage of the assassination was confiscated by the Secret Service. They did not want to the color of the president’s fatal wounds to be revealed as witnesses were grilled over not making public statements about what they’d seen! However, Senator Sam Hodges had seen the whole thing and it stunk to high heaven! He was going to get to the bottom of this! The UAP’s over US nuclear missile installations, the sightings over major airports threatening air traffic, there were too many things going on that just didn’t add up!

Buck had pounded down 4 or 5 mixed drinks by now just trying to settle down the waves of PTSD that always accompanied a deadly mission. Then there was the paranoia. Would the door to his room get kicked in? Would some curious motel clerk think they noticed something out of the ordinary? He flashed back to the jobs he’s been used for like taking out guerilla leaders at a thousand yards in the Middle East with his Barrett M-95 rifle. The hours he spent sweating it out after making a kill shot and then waiting deep behind enemy lines to be extracted by helicopter as the enemy searched for him! Picking off drug cartel leaders in the jungles of Central America and making it back to the LZ before they caught up with him! All those worrisome moments came back to haunt.

Buck remembered first being contacted by the Assistant Section Chief of the ISS (International Surveillance Service), a little known branch of the DIA. He had been informed and given the option to pursue the mission to take out the Exo Imposter President! Buck also anticipated that he would have to undergo a secret debriefing, and was it too much of a stretch to think that he could end up being the fall guy who had been fed with false intel? God only knew! He also knew that $150,000 in US currency would be deposited in his discrete offshore account with more to come if things went as planned. Yet, that was of little comfort under the circumstances.

Buck’s alcohol consumption had made him hungry now and he ordered a pizza. Just then a call came into his “Burner Phone”. “Buck here,” he answered.

“Nice Job. Your work was excellent. However, this will be the tip of the iceberg. There will be many more assignments. Are you up for it?”

“Yes, Colonel, but for now I’d like to just relax and act like this isn’t all happening. You know what I mean, Sir?”

“Of, course! You’ll have the typical obligatory briefing in 72 hours 0700 hours ZULU. Understood?”

“Yes sir.”

The line went dead and Buck sighed half angry, half exhausted and munched his mushroom and sausage pizza as the motel room seemed to darken even more than it already had as the TV blared nonsensically in the background!