Kill Contract

The Mission | 7

Austin found and knocked on a door that hopefully held knowledgeable but dumb people.

"Who is it?"

He cracked the door open and poked his head inside, enough to subtly show the uniform.

Two well dressed ladies and several maids looked up at him. There were expensive paintings and furniture decorating the room, even a piano.

"There's an important message to be relayed to the president." He replied in Korean, hinting an urgent tone. "Where can I find him?"

The ladies turned to each other, not bothered or at all suspicious. "Oh,  he's usually up in the studio, sergeant."

"Yes, you'll find him there."

Austin tipped the hat he also borrowed from the guards. "Thank you, have a good night."

He closed the door quietly and took a moment to orient himself. Studio. Hadn't he seen a telescope poking out on of the windows when he was scaling the wall?

Austin rounded the hall and raced up the stairs, trying to act composed while self-aware that he absolutely did not look Korean. He kept his gaze low and pulled the hat over his eyes as steps flew under his feet.

Almost tripping on the second flight of stairs, a hand grabbed him by the shoulder and hoisted him back up.

"Careful there, sir-"

Face to face with a snobby looking man in a suit, Austin widened his eyes in surprise.

"Hey!...you're not..."

The man scrutinized Austin's face, realizing this was not a regular guard. Not even a Korean. Austin grabbed the chloroform solution.

The man pushed him back and yelled in alarm.

Gosh darn it, cover's blown already.

Austin leapt up the stairs two at a time, reaching for the fleeing man's tuxedo.

"There's an intruder! GUARDS! Someone-"

Austin yanked him back, the man lost his balance, Austin tripped him, flipping his momentum down to the floor.
The man collided on the marble with a thud and knocked out cold.

A commotion reached his ears faster than expected; Austin looked left to see frightened waiters and worried businessmen, and looked right to find racing guards with murder in their eyes.

"Stop!"

Austin took off the other way, yanking doors open as he passed. Screams and slams echoed in the hallway, making Austin's mind go in hyperdrive.

Where is he...where....

The whole palace was running in chaos. The dictator was probably being hurried downstairs and out to a safe place. That meant...if the studio was on the top most floor, and he was being alerted just now to escape the building...

Austin ran to the nearest flight of stairs to try to intercept him. He grabbed his gun and jumped over the railing, landing on all fours.

Across the giant dining room, a group of guards crowded protectively around...him.

Austin coldly locked eyes with the president, and from this far away he could sense the terror, the hatred,  the fury.

Three dozen fancy tables stood between him and his target.

The seven men raised guns.

And then, time seemed to slow down.

Austin took a running start and jumped atop the first table. His shoes skid on the pearly tablecloth, unbalancing the vase that crashed to the floor into a million pieces. The tinkling sounds of the glass shards mixed with ringing bursts as the men fired shot after shot.

He didn't see the bullets, he didn't even feel them as they bounced off his jacket.

The guards' faces all morphed to a look of horror as they backtracked into each other; slowly, slowly, Austin saw the panic unfold, the changes of expression, as he ran across the tables with his arm outstretched, a gun firmly pointed to a specific head.

All thoughts left him.

He jumped into the air.

Guns fired at random.

Every scream and yell and bang blurred out in his ears.

At the height of his jump, where he floated over the guards in a semi flip, he locked his gun to the dictator's head.

He stared into those eyes a moment too long, and time crashed back in its usual pace.

Austin fired.