Agent X didn't move.
The cold steel of the gun barrel pressed against the back of his skull, the trigger finger steady. No shaking. No hesitation.
This wasn't just some Echelon foot soldier.
It was someone who knew him.
"Turn around. Slowly."
The voice was familiar. Too familiar.
X obeyed, shifting with calculated precision, hands slightly raised—not in surrender, but to mask his next move. As he turned, his gaze locked onto the man standing before him.
Agent Kessler.
X's stomach tightened. Not him.
Kessler had been one of Echelon's deadliest operatives. A mentor. A rival. A man who had trained alongside X for years.
And now, he was here to kill him.
Kessler's face was unreadable, his sharp blue eyes studying X like a predator sizing up prey.
"You made a mess, X."
X exhaled slowly. "I didn't botch the mission. Someone set me up."
Kessler smirked. "Echelon doesn't care." He stepped closer, gun still leveled. "Control's orders were clear. You're a liability now."
X tensed. "And you just follow orders, huh? No questions?"
Kessler didn't answer. Instead, he pressed the gun harder against X's temple.
That was his mistake.
X exploded into motion.
His hand shot up, slamming into Kessler's wrist, forcing the barrel away. At the same time, he pivoted, twisting his body and locking Kessler's arm. The gun discharged—a muffled shot into the alley wall—before X wrenched it free and slammed an elbow into Kessler's jaw.
Kessler staggered back, but recovered fast, throwing a brutal kick toward X's ribs. X barely dodged, countering with a vicious strike to the throat.
The two assassins clashed, each move perfectly executed, honed from years of training together. They knew each other's fighting styles too well.
X feinted left, drawing Kessler into an overcommitment, then struck with a knee to the stomach. Kessler grunted, but before X could finish him, he rolled back, pulling a blade from his boot.
"You're fast," Kessler admitted, wiping blood from his lip. "But you're not getting out of this alive."
X smirked. "Neither are you."
Before they could engage again, X's phone vibrated in his pocket.
Whisper.
Right on time.
Suddenly, the night erupted with noise—alarms, sirens, and distant explosions. Security alerts blared from buildings across the district. The sound of police chatter flooded the streets.
Kessler's eyes flickered with realization. "You had help."
X didn't hesitate. One second of distraction was all he needed.
He moved fast, lunging forward, striking Kessler's wrist. The knife clattered to the ground. X delivered a final, brutal kick to Kessler's chest, sending him crashing into a pile of crates.
No time to finish the job. He had to go.
X turned and disappeared into the chaos, vanishing into the London night.
Minutes later, he slipped into a stolen car, gripping the wheel tight as he sped away.
His phone buzzed again. Whisper.
"You owe me big time," she said, amused. "That was a lot of effort just to keep your dumb ass alive."
X exhaled. "Tell me you found something."
A pause. Then, her voice grew serious.
"Oh, I found something, alright. And you're not gonna like it."
X's grip tightened.
"Echelon didn't just put a kill order on you," Whisper continued. "They wiped your entire existence. Your records, your bank accounts, your safe houses—gone. As far as the world is concerned, you never existed."
X's jaw clenched. Echelon wasn't just hunting him. They were erasing him.
And that meant only one thing.
They were afraid of what he might uncover.