You must have frozen too long.
Perhaps it was your tetchy glance at the map behind you, giving away the fact you weren't meant to be there.
A second of stillness passed, both you and the stranger locked in place.
And then they moved.
Lunging towards you, arms outstretched, they barely granted you enough time to spring from their path and now your back met the desk – hard. Among the crash of the wood against the wall, the vague crumpling of the paper as it slid to the floor.
Your foot was already raised, kicking at their stomach to throw them off. Before you could blink, a fist rushed towards you and you were throwing yourself out of the way. From your ducked position, you shoved forwards, forcing both of you to the ground, grappling with each other with grunts and sharp kicks as you fought to immobilise her.
Somehow a hand met your face, knocking you off balance for just a second; a second that it took her hands to find you again, your cheek slamming against the cold floor.
Scrabbling to find your feet, the click of a gun had your eyes zeroed in on her hand, ignorant of the trickle of blood crawling down your face.
Like lightning was running through your veins, you darted forward, foot finding the concealed weapon, metal scraping across the ground moments later as your arms fought to get her under control, grasping at her neck and shoulders as she tried to drag her body closer to her weapon, simultaneously clawing at your face.
With one final wrench, her body collided with another of the tables, the grainy screens wobbling alarmingly with the force.
Apparently abandoning her attempt to wrestle you off, the stranger's foot met sharply instead with your knee, sending you crashing into the floor without time to deflect the blow to your side from another kick.
Staggering up, you clutched at anything for support, fingers slipping over the switches on the table. You managed one last gasp for air before the weight of a body was once again pressing on your neck as her forearm starved you of precious air. The rush of blood in your ears almost drowned out the rattling of metal somewhere nearby.
In your panic, your eyes fell on the radio; it had toppled over in the commotion, propped slightly by the piles of cables strewn around.
While your still flailing feet succeeded at distracting your opponent, cables wound their way around your fingers.
All it took was the image of Jimin and the others at Kwangsu's mercy, in this very building, that gave you the strength for one last push. Finding the back of her head with your free hand, your teeth gritted as you poured every ounce to tug her down, face meeting with your knee, making even you wince.
No time to recover the air you lost, you grabbed her before she met the ground, pinning an arm behind her. You would never know how you did it, but in an instant the cables you had yanked from the table were looped around her wrist, and then her other one, leaving her nothing but to weakly struggle.
Something had clattered to the ground, spinning a short distance away. Reaching for it, you found the agent's personal radio and instinctively clamped the button down at its side, holding it to jam darkwater's signal as you fumbled for another wire to secure it with.
That would solve one problem.
With only a vague plan in mind, you yanked a small controller from the end of one of the wires around your assailant's wrists.
Chest still heaving, you stood on unsteady legs.
Now firmly in the grip of adrenaline, your eyes searched and quickly located the pistol lying harmless on the floor. Running to it, you checked the magazine before shoving the weapon into your belt, feet already carrying you out of the door.
