[ WP ] Your remaining lifespan averages with someone you kiss

I crouched down in the bushes, wincing in pain. Any sane doctor would have dragged me into a hospital, muttering something about the Hippocratic Oath and morals. Unfortunately, the military was sorely wanting of any doctors at all, and they had tossed me out into combat. 
 
 `` Your target has entered the forest. ETA five minutes,'' the voice buzzed over my radio, neutral as could be. Perhaps the one on the other end was a heartless bastard, or just pretending to be. I could never tell, and the higher-ups probably did n't want us to be able to, either. 
 
 I unsheathed the knife, my sole weapon in this fight, and watched as it gleamed in the little light that filtered through the canopy. Above me, voices rung out, the casual speech of soldiers who had obtained a respite from combat. 
 
 The party passed before me, and for a moment I considered backing out of the mission entirely, to not have my path to life be to kill. I glanced down at the watch on my wrist, counting down from 250. I grimaced, shook the nagging thoughts from my head, and stabbed my stomach with the knife. My body was already covered in scars and wounds, but the searing pain was new every time. The watch blinked, and registered 44. I breathed out a ragged gasp of air, biting down on my lip and hoping it had not been noticed by my quarry, or dismissed as a rustle of wind on the leaves. Peeking out, all seemed normal, and I breathed out again, a significantly quieter sigh of relief. 
 
 Then I saw him, his body decorated garishly with glimmering medals. The man's salt and pepper hair glinted in the sunlight, mirroring my weapon. To paraphrase Hannibal, I was to ease my superiors of their continual care, who thought it long to await the death of an old man. Of course, this man was rather active in the war effort, so the quote may have been inapprorirate. I glanced down at my watch a final time. 22. My instincts kicked in, sparing my mind from needing to work through the pain. 
 
 I flew from the bushes, ignoring the complaints of my abused body. Grabbing the official, I stabbed him furiously in the chest, my knife creating a cacophony of either the sickening, satisfying, sound of metal penetrating flesh, or the ringing of metal striking metal when I missed and hit the medals. The soldiers had spun around to fire at me, but I was too close for them to get a clear shot. The official grimaced, but was still a seasoned professional, and drew his own knife. Then I showed him why I was the secret weapon of my country, and did my duty. Dodging the blade, I grabbed him by the face and pulled him in for a kiss. 
 
 Soldiers know how to react to a knife, or a bullet, or a grenade. A kiss often renders them as flustered and confused as a teenage boy. I leapt back, glancing at my watch. 80. I leapt onto another soldier and mashed my face into his, furiously frenching him. I was, perhaps, one of the few combat units who could regain the element of surprise after revealing their presence. I was sure to use it. I dashed out of the forest, keeping my head down. I had selected a young, blonde, strong specimen of a male, not for the pleasure of kissing him, but for the rewards. My watch now blinked constantly, indicating that it was unable to register a value. 
 
 `` Target down,'' I said into my earpiece. 
 
 `` Copy that, report to field hospital for debrief,'' the voice responded. 
 
 *5, 4, 3, 2... 1. * I counted in my head. An old man cried out from behind me, the swan song of a general scaring the crows from their perches.
