[ WP ] You sneaked into the oval office on the first day the new president is in office . Convince him that you are the leader of a secret agency , that not even the CIA knows about .

Was it boredom or insanity that lead me here? Who knows? And in a few minutes, who will care? I'll either have pulled off the greatest con in my life, or I'll be in a secret cell buried from history. 
 
 Security around the White House is a joke. They seem to rely on the reputation of security and severe punishment, but in actuality, the system is riddled with blind spots, predictable rotations, and bored watchers who are easily distracted. Getting into the Oval Office was easy. Everyone was too busy at the inauguration. Now I'm looking to get out, when I hear people approaching. 
 
 *'' Jenkins, make sure to let me know the moment my wife leaves her mother's place. `` * 
 
 *'' Yes, sir. `` * 
 
 Out of time, I decide to try another old con trick: Pretend like you belong. Use their own cues to reinforce that belief. 
 
 The doors open, and our eyes meet. The new President is even taller in person. He looks dignified, even as his eyes widen in surprise. Before he can speak, I cut in. 
 
 `` Congratulations Mr. President. I am Davos. I have served your predecessor and I look forward to serving you.'' I cut my glance to Jenkins, who was surreptitiously moving towards the panic button. `` Jenkins, please secure the door and escort the President to his new desk, I must debrief him immediately.'' 
 
 Years of ingrained obedience to authority drives Jenkins to obey my commands even before he knows. I keep my hands open and make no sudden movements, and force my face to be as bland and none-threatening as possible. 
 
 Jenkins. 6'4'', 250 lbs of muscle. Two sidearms in shoulder holster, another in a IWB holster, and a small revolver in his ankle holster. Standard buzz cut. Callouses on his left hand, he's a lefty. Scar tissue on his right hand looks like a frost bite pattern. Non-syncopated General American accent, Jenkins is most likely from Colorado. Could be useful knowledge. 
 
 `` Mr. President, I'll be quick. You were n't expecting me here today because officially, I do not exist. My organization does not exist. Unofficially, we were founded just after the JFK assassination. Our duties are singular: To protect you from all threats. We have no operating budget, we have no roster.'' The President seems to relax as he processes this bit of news. I study him closer. The news stated that he's an avid golfer, but never made any mention of bowling. The heavy callous buildup and wear pattern on this thumb, pointer, and middle finger tells otherwise. There's also mild nicotine discoloration. Possibly a recent smoker, though that was also never revealed by the media. 
 
 `` At the moment, there is no active threat to your person, unless you were to slip on an over-waxed bowling alley or resume your smoking habit.'' 
 
 Bingo. His eyes register faint surprise, and then he relaxes completely. 
 
 `` Davos? What's your real name?'' 
 
 `` My real name is Jason Alexander. Officially I died several years ago, in my home state of Colorado. Same as your bodyguard, Jenkins.'' This was the biggest gamble yet. If I had guessed incorrectly, Jenkins would blow my cover and I'd be fucked. 
 
 Jenkins smiled. Briefly, in show of support to a fellow Coloradan. I exhale slowly. 
 
 `` I will not take any more of your time, Mr. President. Jenkins. Have a good day. We will be watching.'' 
 
 I turn smartly, and with more confidence than I feel, stride purposefully out the main doors.
