The Former Marine

After a series of successful missions in Afghanistan and Iraq, Derek Rogan stood out not only for his operational skills, but also for his adaptability and cultural understanding. These qualities caught the attention of other branches of government, specifically the CIA. One afternoon, while back at base after a mission, Derek was summoned to an unusual meeting with Captain Rawlings.

As Derek entered the room, he immediately sensed something was different. In addition to the Captain, there was a man he had never seen before. He was dressed in an impeccable suit and had a quiet but confident demeanor—someone clearly accustomed to operating in the shadows.

"Derek, this is Agent Donovan from the CIA," Rawlings began. "He's here to discuss an opportunity that has been brought to our attention."

Donovan stood and shook Derek's hand. "Nice to meet you, Rogan. I've heard impressive things about you. Your adaptability and language skills have been noticed beyond MARSOC."

"Thank you, sir," Derek replied firmly, but without arrogance. He had learned to be modest about his successes.

"We're planning a covert operation under CIA Title 50," Donovan continued. "This is a special intelligence operation with special clearance, something that won't be on the traditional military record. For this, we need someone with your skills. It's a sensitive mission, and your identity needs to be completely concealed. There will be no uniform. Nothing to link you to MARSOC or the military."

Derek listened intently, familiar with covert operations, but he had never been "loaned" to the CIA before. "And what would be the objective of the mission?" he asked bluntly.

"A high-profile target within a Middle Eastern arms trafficking ring," Donovan explained. "We need someone who can infiltrate, blend in with the local population, and ensure the target is eliminated without attracting attention. You will be a shadow, a ghost. And that includes making your appearance less... military. We will need you to grow a beard."

Derek nodded, understanding the need to blend in.

"How long until the mission begins?" "You will have a few weeks to prepare, adjust your appearance, and receive detailed instructions. We will work directly with you, but remember: officially, you will not be there."

Rawlings intervened.

"Rogan, I know this is out of the ordinary, but I trust you to handle it. The decision is yours."

Without hesitation, Derek nodded.

"I'm in."

In the weeks that followed, Derek began to grow a beard, something that at first seemed strange to him. Accustomed to the strict discipline of the Marines and the always clean-shaven appearance, he now saw his reflection transforming. The beard gave him a more rugged, rugged appearance that would help him blend in better with the locals.

As his beard grew, he received intensive briefings from the CIA. Donovan was relentless in making sure Derek knew every detail of the mission, from escape routes to psychological profiles of targets and contacts. They trained him in advanced interrogation and manipulation techniques, as well as survival strategies in case the operation was compromised.

One day, during one of these sessions, Donovan pulled Derek aside.

"You've been in tense situations before, Rogan, but this will be different," Donovan said, his tone serious. "You won't have direct support. If something goes wrong, there will be no helicopters or rescue teams. The CIA will deny any involvement. Are you prepared for that?"

Derek looked Donovan straight in the eye. "I am. I always knew some missions would be like this. I'm willing to take the risk."

Donovan nodded, satisfied with the answer. "Good. That's what I wanted to hear."

Finally, the day of the infiltration arrived. Derek was disguised as a local businessman, wearing clothes he would never wear on a standard military operation. His beard was now long and unkempt, and he wore a traditional scarf around his head. He looked like an ordinary man, someone who would go unnoticed on the streets of a busy Middle Eastern city.

The operation was to be conducted in a small town near the Afghan-Pakistan border. The target was an arms dealer with strong connections to insurgent groups. He was holed up in a fortified mansion, protected by armed guards and a complex surveillance system. Derek would have to infiltrate unnoticed, eliminate the target, and escape before any alarms were raised.

Donovan dropped him off at the edge of town, in a secluded spot. "Good luck, Rogan," the agent said. "Remember, you're alone."

Derek simply nodded and began walking toward town, his disguise complete.

As he entered the town, he blended in with the crowd without any trouble. No one gave him a second glance. The streets were filled with merchants, children playing, and motorcycles weaving between people. Derek kept his pace calm, but inside, every fiber of his being was on alert. He knew that at any moment he could be recognized or perceived as a threat.

He followed the instructions he had memorized in his briefings. First, he went to a market where he met a man named Kamal, a local informant who was working undercover for the CIA. Kamal was a middle-aged man with wary eyes and a well-groomed gray beard. He was selling fruit from a stall, seemingly just another merchant.

"You're late," Kamal said in a whisper as he continued to negotiate with a customer.

"Traffic," Derek replied in the same low tone, using the previously agreed upon code.

Kamal didn't look directly at Derek, but he gave a slight nod. "The house has a lot of eyes today. The guards are alert, but the target will be home by midnight. You'll need to enter from the west side, where the wall is lower."

Derek nodded, taking an apple from the stall and handing Kamal some local currency. "Thank you," he said, pretending to buy the fruit. He then walked away, watching every movement around him.

As night fell, Derek prepared for infiltration. He hid in an abandoned house on the outskirts of town, watching the mansion from afar. The lights around the house were on, and he could see the guards patrolling the perimeter. He knew he would have to be quick and precise.

At midnight, as planned, he began his move. Keeping to the shadows, Derek made his way around the perimeter to the western side of the property. The wall there was lower, as Kamal had mentioned, but there was still a guard nearby. Derek snuck up behind the man and quickly neutralized him with a clean strike to the back of the head, silent as a shadow.

Scaling the wall with agility, he infiltrated the property undetected. Inside, the house was surprisingly quiet. Derek moved with the precision of a seasoned operator, slipping through the hallways until he found his target's bedroom. He opened the door slowly and found the arms dealer, a burly man with a thick beard, sleeping in his bed.

Derek knew there could be no hesitation. He walked over, drew his knife, and in one swift, silent movement, accomplished his mission. The target was eliminated.

Wasting no time, Derek left the mansion the same way he had entered, disappearing into the night without a trace. For all intents and purposes, he had never been there.

Back at the rendezvous point, Donovan was waiting in the car. Derek got in silently and settled into the passenger seat. Donovan looked at him and asked only one question.

"Is it done?"

Derek, with a firm look, answered. "It's done."

Donovan nodded. "Good job, Rogan. Now it's time to return to the darkness."