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“Reichstag Fire?”

Maybe something like this, around October.

(Found this fiction on the internet.)

INTERIOR UNDERGROUND DC PARKING GARAGE. BOTTOM LEVEL. NIGHT.

Libra’s footsteps echo off the walls. The buzz of a flickering neon light is heard. In the corner of the garage a whole sector of lights has gone dark. Shadows thicken. A lighter flickers in the darkness as a cigar is lit.

LIBRA: Carthago. Countersign?

CENTURION: Delenda est. Sort of overly dramatic don’t you think?

LIBRA: Not paid to think. What is the assignment?

CENTURION: The Wing thinks it’s time to lay a little blue smoke between the mirrors. Take the heat off our team and torch the other side. That’s your job.

LIBRA: Fine. How wet does the Wing want it to get?

CENTURION: We project that if three team members are sent down it should put a stop to any attrition in November.

LIBRA: Wouldn’t taking out just one serve the same purpose?

CENTURION: No. It has to look like a pattern.

LIBRA: Fine. Any particular team members you need erased?

CENTURION: Nobody from Chicago or San Francisco. And from safe seats only. We need to preserve the count. Renegade’s very keen on that.

LIBRA: Level of obfuscation?

CENTURION: None. Public and messy. “Accidents” would be counter productive. But no families. Renaissance would be upset.

LIBRA: Timing?

CENTURION: Within the next 10 days. It would be best if all three were within the same day.

LIBRA: You want target clearance and notification?

CENTURION: No. This will be the last contact for this contract.

LIBRA: Half to the Bahamas account by noon tomorrow and the half on completion to our friend in Costa Rica.

CENTURION: Done.

LIBRA: Anything else?

CENTURION: No. If we need you again we can always find you.

LIBRA: That’s what you people always think. Oh, by the way, was that stuff about you being naked in the showers the real deal?

CENTURION: Just get it done.

FADE TO BLACK