𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘 ➤ [ 𝑚𝑖𝑡𝑐ℎ 𝑟𝑎𝑝𝑝 ]

1

__________________

"THE MISSION is off." My earpiece rings with the voice of Victor Boysen, "what the hell do you mean the mission is off?" I spit back quietly, keeping my voice steady in order not to attrack any unwanted attention.

"You fucking heard me, the mission is off, now get the hell outta' there." I roll my eyes at him, my mind buzzing with questions as to why this would be called off, I had been trained for today, and now Victor, my 'boss', or more like the guy in charge, calls it off.

"Pleoh, you take the damn order, get out." His voice is irratating, frustrating me even more, there is no way in hell that I'm going to retreat.

"Shut the hell up, and let me do my job." I spit into the earpiece, already hearing Victor's voice shouting, and without another thought, I take out the earpiece, throwing it onto the ground, Victor's voice fading as I take a deep, shuddering breath, adjusting my backpack.

I peek around the wall of the tall building and my eyes land on a door, guarded by two tall, armed men — they almost look like satues.

My eyes travel to the door behind them, a smirk masking my face at the sight, just behind the secured door lays my target, Ahmed Ali.

He's very dangerous, according to Victor, and his criminal actions are grusome, but still, here I am, just a few minutes away from putting his life to an end.

He deserves it, for what he has done to me, and to others, he deserves every little piece revenge coming his way, not even hell is good enough for him.

I place my head against the cement wall, licking my lips as I take one last deep breath, before turning around the corner, making sure my backpack is secure. I head towards the two gentlemen, my combat boots crunching on the gravel beneath me.

One of the men's head snaps toward me, catching sight of me.

Knowing what to do, my pace picks up, and in mere seconds, before the guard can lift his gun, my elbow already makes contact with his nose, my right foot kicking the second guard in the crotch as he stumbles backwards.

Easier than I thought, not to be cocky.

In a quick motion, a fist comes in contact with my face, I stumble a little before I catch myself.

Knowing that I have to think quick, I quickly remove my hidden gun tucked behind my back in the waisband of my jeans.

I really hoped that I didn't have to kill more than one person, but it seems as if hoping does not help.

My gun is aimed as I pull the trigger twice, thankful for the silencer, and I watch as the two limp bodies fall to the ground.

I quickly recover from my deeds, my mind already racing on what to do next.