Dark clouds spiraling into a vortex. A tempest swirling just above his head.
The boy hesitantly took a step back, but a small crackle in his ear caused him to slip and fall, "—Zero One—"
Her voice reminded him of their earlier discussion. Her words came rushing back to him:
"All of the agencies are watching you, Agent Two-Zero-One. They will evaluate everything after the mission. They want to see what you can do. Or if you can even do it."
On the ground, he glanced towards the villa. The icy path in front of him was lined scattered bullets, and sitting its edge was the long black barrel of his half-buried rifle.
Paralyzed, he was unable to make a decision. Moving forward was a risk; turning back, a failure. Staying put meant certain death.
A low rumble rolled through the air, and his headset crackled once again, "Two — One, return to the ——come back — before the blizzard—"
A small smile formed on his face as tears welled-up, relieved at the thought of going back. To run away before the oncoming snowstorm reaches him.
But as he turned, hurriedly crawling back to the forest, a strike of lightning turned everything white. In that moment of pale blank, the heiress' frightened face flashed in his mind. Her fear-filled eyes. Her horrified expression. How the butler was hurting her.
When the brightness faded, so did his hesitation.
Anger flared in his mismatched eyes.
Balling his hand into a fist, he got back on his feet and marched back to his position.
The storm punished him for his decision and struck him with a barrage of pale white pellets. Tiny cannonballs that filled his ears with burning explosions and stabbed his cheeks with thousands of invisible needles.
Every step slid across the snowy surface, pushed back by the blizzard's relentless assault. Aware that his window of opportunity was getting slimmer.
Even though he was unaware of the current situation, or whether the heiress was even still alive, he powered through.
His stiff fingers picked up the sunken bullets in his path, only recovering the two that glimmered above the white blanket. He clung onto them between his fingers and he reached for his rifle, which was toppled over by the wind. It had slid significantly from where he had it aimed.
It did not take him long to return to his initial position, all he had to do was search for the warm yellow dot in the distance.
Beyond the frozen rain, however, he saw that the situation had escalated inside. The CEO inside was kneeling in pain and bleeding from his arm, having been shot by the butler, all while his daughter was frozen and crying.
His target grew increasingly rabid and started shouting and moving in erratically, swaying his gun around as if to tell them to stay back.
The boy bit his lip, frustrated that he had to wait for the butler to sit still.
A few more seconds pass. His lip started cracking from the cold as he waited for a better shot.
Until an opportunity presented itself to him. One of the audience members tried to walk to plead with the butler, taking away his attention from the girl. The shot was clear.
He had practiced this shot countless times, it was an act he was intimately familiar with. But now, staring at his target's face, his finger froze against the trigger.
But his mission was clear. Protect the heiress. There was no room for hesitation or self-doubt.
He squeezed the trigger —
Blood splattered.
~