One Shot, One Kill.

Chapter 6: Little Pieces

POV: Christopher Mun

September 24th, 2005.

There were dates. Hundreds of dates.

There were also places. Hundreds of places.

Places my father had visited. The dates he had visited those places. The reasons he had visited those places.

There were also names. Names of people. Thousands of names. There were secrets. Secrets hidden within the pages. Pages buried in a box in the basement. A box I had moved to Mrs. Petrov's house two weeks ago. She was my guardian now.

My father had documented all of it. Every single thing.

A month ago , I had considered myself a normal thirteen year old. I went to school like a normal kid. I was the top of my class. I had parents. I had a family.

I had a father with an honorable job. He was in the army. A father who loved the country. A father who lived for the country.

In one month, I had grown twice my age. My father was dead. And my mother...

I didn't even know if she was alive.

Mrs. Petrov and I had tried everything. We had done everything. The police had been of very little use, especially when they found out who my mother was. Who her husband was.

The fliers had also been of very little use.

No one knew where she was. No one had seen her. Not in a year.

So I had resorted to my last alternative. I had gone through my fathers files. Hundreds of them.

I had had several sleepless nights.

And in two weeks, I had learned more about my father than I had in the thirteen years I had spent with him.

My father's name was Vincent Mun. He was a member of the American secret service, a sector called Omega X. He was an honorable man. A man who loved the country, a man who loved the people, who loved his team, and loved his family.

He was a man who had given so much to the country.

He was a man who would never disrupt the peace of the country. If not for any other reason, for the sake of his wife and son who lived in this very country. And for the sake of his comrades whom he loved very dearly. Comrades he knew would likely die if a war broke out.

But he was also a man who knew too much.

A man who knew too much about the government.

A man who knew too much about the individuals in power. He was a man who knew too much about the rotten things that occurred behind close doors.

He was a man who had too much information. And in all reality, the only treason he ever committed was asking to be free.

I ran my hands through the smooth paper of the journal. The journal, who's pages were filled with my fathers childlike, but somehow legible writing. It was his last entry.

"Han beon gae, hangsang gae." He had written. "Once a dog, always a dog. My father used to say this to me all the time. If my father was here, and alive, he would despise me. For certain. I fight for the very country that murdered him. The very country that murdered my people, and stained the grounds with their blood.

"If he was here, he would probably say that I ought to be ashamed of myself for becoming a dog. The country's hound. But I do not think it as so. The events that took place in my life led up to this very moment. To this very beautiful life with Addy, and with our son

"I wish I could say that I am not afraid. But I am terrified, as this might either be my last mission, or my last journal entry. Or both. Colonel Cornell once told me, that the only way out of the Omega X is death. In my heart of hearts, I wish to prove him wrong.

"Today, upon the orders of Colonel Dunn, I shall leave for Afghanistan today, to defend the Country once more. I shall be marching for Addy, and for my son. I shall be marching for my team mates who need me. And maybe this march may just buy me my freedom. Just maybe,

"A simple life away from all of this mightn't be so bad after all. I despise Addy's idea to move to the country side after all of this passes. I would love to go back to Korea. I have not visited my fathers grave in years. I have not visited my mother's grave in even more years. I would love to show Chris around. And to let him see that it is completely okay to have almond shaped eyes. Hell, I can think of a hundred places I would rather move to than the countryside."

I stifled a small laugh, feeling a tear drop roll from my eyes as my eyes moved down to the last words scribbled down on the sheet of paper.

"But for Addy, anything."

"For Addy, anything." I whispered under my breath as I shut the journal.

Where was she?

I had needed a name. Just one.

But reading through my fathers journal had given me two names.

One of this names was Colonel Cornell, who according to my research, died of Alzheimer's disease nearly five years ago.

And the other name was Colonel Dunn. Colonel Fredrick Dunn, or Senator Fredrick Dunn as he was now popularly known as. He was practically untouchable. I could never get to him, talk less of get an audience with him.

However, there was one more person.

Isaiah Keys.

Isaiah was the key to it all. He was the only surviving member of my fathers team. He was the only one lived to tell the story. The only one who lived to spit his venom. To spread his lies. To tarnish my fathers name, his reputation, his honor.

And I could never understand why.

My father loved Siah. My mother loved Siah.

And I knew in my heart of hearts, that if there was any person in the world who could give me closure, that if there was anybody in the world who could explain what really happened to my father to me, who could tell me where my mother was, it would be Isaiah.

He was right in the middle of everything.

He has always been right in the middle of everything.

From what I'd learned from Mrs. Petrov's personal investigator, he had been redeployed immediately after the incident. She didn't say where.

I knew that she was afraid I would do something drastic. She was scared that I would get into trouble. That I would go up against the "big guys."

But just a few days ago, I had run into Isaiah's mother whilst running an errand for Mrs. Petrov.

The elderly lady had feigned concern, and had extended her apologies.

"I knew your father to be a good man." She had said. And I had felt bile rise to my throat. I had felt anger coursing through my veins. Not particularly at her. But at her grandson who had said several vile things about my father on National television.

But I'd knew one thing.

If she was here, Isaiah couldn't be far.

I did not want to stir up any trouble.

All I wanted to know was where my father had been buried. And where my mother was.

I needed to pay my respects to my father. To have him know that I did not believe him to be the traitor the world had made him out to be. I wanted to tell him that I would love and respect him forever.

Drawing in a deep breath, I flicked my tongue over my lower lip and then pushed my cap further over my head. I shut the journal and then carefully placed it back in the box. Next I reached into the box once more and then wrapped my fingers tightly across the grip of the metal object. It was cold to my touch.

I had also managed to find some bullets amongst my fathers old things.

Fully loaded, the gun seemed twice as heavy as its original weight.

I tucked the gun carefully in my jeans, just as I had seen my father do in the past. Afterwards, I drew in multiple deep breaths before I walked out the door and then headed for the stairs. I climbed down the stairs, and then made for the door. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Mrs. Petrov walk out of the kitchen, a bowl of strawberries in her hand.

She gave me a cautious look. One filled with curiosity.

But I knew that she would not ask me where I was going. Our relationship wasn't as such. I could not recall how it happened, or what it was that had caused me to move into her house. We lived together, but we barely ever talked.

She wasn't trying to take the place of my mother.

And I respected her greatly for it.

"Be back for dinner." She called out to me. I muttered slowly under my breath in response as I walked out the door.