“How long before extraction?” Wallace shouts. He’s in contact with Eyes, who provides him with intel.
“Can’t –ell, bu- on th- -ay,” the voice on the other side of the comms says. The line is filled with static, as Wallace’s comms are jammed because of the fall he made.
“Copy that,” Wallace says.
The contract was simple: travel to London, kill the target, obtain the briefcase and get out. The reality turned out quite the opposite, however. He’s taking cover because he’s under fire from several directions. Wallace wipes the sweat from his forehead and reloads. He looks at the stairwell leading downstairs behind him, but if he heads for it, he’ll definitely get a bullet in his back. With his back against the flipped table, he looks to his right. There are several windows, some of them shattered by bullet fire. It’s cloudy outside and there’s no sun to be seen. The clouds are dark, indicating it will rain soon. On his left there’s the bar, where he drank a Dashford just minutes ago when suddenly all chaos broke loose. Lots of glass and bottles hanging from the ceiling, ready to serve anyone, but not in these circumstances. At the back of the bar there are mirrors, reflecting the assaultants firing at Wallace. Some bar stools in front of the bar, half of them fallen over, the plant, which miraculously is still intact, and the lights, one of them unlit make up the rest of the bar. The four hostiles are closing in on Wallace, taking pauses between firing to keep the agent behind the table oppressed. He has to come up with a plan fast, or the glass in the room won’t be the only thing shattered.
Wallace looks at the mirrors and sees the four guards are close now, only a few more meters and they’ll have him surrounded, with nowhere to go. He closes his eyes and focusses. No escape possible via the stairwell. A leap through the windows might do the trick, but he’ll never be able to run around the guards. The colours of the environment become black and white and every sound present in the room vanishes. Time slows down and his mind leaves his body, ascending to the ceiling. The enemies are slowly drawing nearer. Wallace notices the wall behind the mirrors at the bar. Besides a waterline and the frame of the walls there’s a powerline running through it. Within less than one fourth of a second Wallace’s mind returns to his body, he aims his gun to his left, at the exact place where the powerline runs and fires. Instantly, all the lights go out and the whole room becomes dark. The guards start shouting in surprise and empty their clips at the table, speeding up their pace. As they blast around it, there’s no one behind it. Wallace looks over his shoulder, at the guards who are starting to rage and jumps out one of the shattered windows. He drops onto a scaffolding, opposite of the building he jumped out of and descends it quickly, by gliding down one of the bars. As he sprints back toward the city center, Eyes contacts him again.
“Wh-t’s yo-r stat-s?” he asks. Wallace doesn’t respond at first, but starts talking after a while.
“I lost him.”