ME: Alright, as I said in the summary, here's a story concering Jason, a reason for the existence of bed-wetters and the bad guys grim reaper. He's Mojotheomegawolfs OC, so thank him as without Mojo I wouldn't have written this story. And there is real-life stuff in this fanfic, plus a significantly darker tone if you will.

"My name? Jason. Past? Even I don't know and CIS is none the wiser. Hobby? If blowing some guys head off with a fifty-cal sniper rifle counts, then yeah. Friends? Nope, I only get a partner whenever I'm put in for significant recon or assassination jobs, and even that thankfully hardly happens, so I'm mainly alone in the field. Profile amongst colleagues? I'm 'That Guy. The Directors Personal Killer. The One Who Carries TWO Sharp Knives.' And the truth is I AM that guy."

Some called him "X" even though those who referred to Jason in that manner knew his real name. But he didn't care.

Why?

He was an agent of the Canine Intelligence Service. He was one of the top snipers in the world. He was a member of CISes PHYSINT Branch for a reason, and it wasn't to become a social animal.

He was to shoot his targets in the head since no one could be hurt by a dead guy.

As he remembered those facts he walked down to the Directors office. The few canines and a few cats that had to be either visitors or liaisons that noticed him tried to avoid his gaze.

At least they had a silent understanding with him.

A couple of the braver office workers looked him in the eye briefly before shuddering away.

Was one brown eye on an otherwise all-black Anatolian Shepherd THAT repulsive?

Finally he made his way to the overall Directors new office. Security had been tightened in light of traitors being revealed, so armed guards made for a secure perimeter as he approached.

"Where's your identification sir?" a big-boned one inquired. Jason didn't answer and instead simply gave him his ID card. After both card and Jason being inspected thorougly the guard returned the card.

"Alright, you're clear. Just pass the checks at the door and you should be fine."

Jason nodded and went to the door. It was a necessary pain but still very much annoying for anyone who had to meet the Director.

"Welcome!" a female computer voice greeted him. "Please comply with the following security measures in precise order; paw scan, retinal scan, voice verification and keyboard-inputed password!"

Great. But he merely silently complied. Ten seconds of his right paw being on the scanner resulting in a torturous beep, a pair of excessively bright lights took in his mismatched eyes, the two words he said into the microphone were, "Agent Jason", and the typing of the password: V-A-C-C-I-N-E.

Fitting considering the means of the Directors legendary unintended recruitment.

Finally the woman "thanked" him and Jason stepped inside past the now opening blast doors.

"Why hello Agent Jason!" Director Lou said all-business. For someone teased about supposedly ugly sweaters he must've not gotten the point of the comments, for the Beagle wore a navy-blue blazer, an open white dress shirt and gray pants.

Nerd of all nerds.

"Sir," he replied. "Honor to be here Director."

"Honor's mine," replied the glasses wearing dog. "I trust you have a good idea of why you're here, correct?"

"I believe I've been selected for whatever Herculean task I'm needed for."

The Director nodded. "There have been leaks," he said as the Beagle tapped away at his laptop. He pointed behind Jason, who nodded and turned just in time to see a casualty list of both MEOWS and CIS operatives.

"I know sir. We lost a lot of good agents in LA, but I fail to see how this concerns me."

"Internal Affairs revealed Kitty and the Feline Liberation Front had moles on the inside for years. The highest one of which is a Pitbull by the name of Fang."

Now a thuggish-looking Pitbull took up the screen. Jason growled. "Sir, that guy was the dog in charge of all of our California operations. What kind of canine does that to his own?"

"Fangs kind apparently. When he realized we were coming after him he and a lot of the traitors stole a plane and attempted to escape. Air Force scrambled a couple of fighters and intercepted him."

"Then how is he still alive?" the Anatolian Shepherd asked.

"Missile that got fired off blew off one of their wings. Had it been fired a second earlier we wouldn't have had this discussion, but past is the past. Crashed into the Pacific. Recovery teams retrieved quite a few bodies but not Fangs."

The Beagle then took a deep breath. "SIGINT just got word of a deal he and a few other turncoats-some of whom are MEOWS operatives-made with a high-end FLF member that has ties to the Russian Mafia; in exchange for safety in Moscow, they're gonna provide codes for our spy satellites. I don't want the bad guys even having one space-based camera, so your primary objective is to destroy the data via any means necessary to prevent the FLF from gaining control over our assets. Peeks is working on a virus that'll delete everything including itself when all the other stuff on whatever system they're using is wiped clean. Secondary objective is to capture high-level participants of the deal for questioning."

"Sorry for interrupting," Jason began, "but I've got questions Director. First off, where will I be going and when to stop this? Second, what if I can't capture that FLF boss or the rogue agents?"

"You'll be flown to St. Lawrence Island in the Bering Sea. You've got two hours until we stick you on the plane. And if you cannot bring in any particular targets, do what you do best."

"Kill them. Roger that sir," the assassin nodded.

"Good. I've got paperwork and bureaucrauts waiting to see me, so dismissed. Just as a sidenote, you'll get additional information later."

ME: Okay, looks like Jason just got the most important mission of his life. Stakes are pretty high ladies and gentlemen. Reviews and PMs to help make this story better will be appreciated by me.