The masked man didn't heed the shudder that ran up his arm, responding to the bite of the North Korean wind. He climbed the stone wall smoothly, quickly, confidently... perhaps too confidently. His black leather gloves found purchase easily on the broken rock as his legs propelled him further and further away from the already distant ground.

Underneath his gloves, his nails were broken and bloody from where he'd scratched and torn at the harsh material of his cell wall. A purple bruise covered the left side of his face, it's ugly edges poking out around the sides of the white masks.

Below him was a not-so-secret 'top secret' base of the North Korean Military, tucked away at the base of a towering cliff. Above him, further up the cliff was the personal stronghold of some general or another. The man never really paid much attention to names. 

He felt the thin shoe slip a millisecond before he fell, his other three limbs searching desperately for a hold. He cursed his lack of equipment, this was meant to be a quick mission. 'Shoot him at the Parade, then get the hell out' simple enough. But he supposed it was just pure luck for the General that one of his Police Officers were running late that morning, his eye catching on the Caucasian slipping away from the crowds into the nearby hotel rooms. 

When they found him, they'd also found the sniper rifle he'd been carrying. From there, it had been Game, Set and Match- "straight to a torture camp for you!". It was annoying, he didn't even enjoy this kind of work. He preferred the close and personal, bloody, messy, intimate, killings.

Pulling himself up with his arms, he searched with his feet for another hold. It took him only a few seconds, and then he was propelling himself back up the cliff. Spotting his destination, now directly too his left and down some, he paused and examined the situation. 

There was a small artificial cave cutting into the cliff face, serving as a balcony for the Fortress. Three guards stood on constant vigil, scanning every nook and cranny of the small balcony. The Generals room was only a few doors down on the third corridor to the left from the balcony. Once he got past the guards, it would be a simple matter to finish him  off, 'a quick, quiet sl-' 

His thoughts were cut short by the wail of a siren below, tearing the night sky. Red lights flashing and smaller torches scurrying like ants about the base in a frantic hurry. Simutaneously, the three guards rushed forward to the guard rail, peering down, exchanging brief conversation in rushed whispers.

They were soon joined by a forth figure, of large stature and greying hair, his medals gleaming in the minimal lighting. The General, obviously heard the sirens, and had rushed out to inspect like his guards.

'Looks like curiosity really did kill the cat.' 

Creeping over above the balcony, he turned, his back to the wall, heels balancing on a narrow ledge. The balcony only jutted out a meter or so. His jump had to be accurate. Unsheathing two blades from his belt, he leaped down, landing perfectly. Before they could turn at the sound of his landing, he rammed the blades up the back of two of the Guards skulls, and a shoulder barge for the third sent the three sentries off.

The General turned, his eyes widening in terror as they landed on the mask of the man sent to kill him.

The generals word was in Korean, but it was drowned out by the sound blood gurgling out of his lips.

The masked man nodded and grinned in the darkness,  tearing out his dagger, bathing in the red spray of his victim. The other man fell backward, over the railing and down the cliff after his sentries. 

'Now, how to get out?'


-5 Days Later-

"Moscow. Yes, that's right. Moscow. No, I won't be home. I'll deposit the money today. Why Moscow? Well, the games are on. Yes, those games. No, I don't plan on dying, but I don't plan on losing my position either. So, yes. Moscow. I'll be flying out of Sol tomorrow morning. Yes, Goodnight."

Silence looked up at the mirror, reflecting his image as his voice fell quiet, and watched as the mirror image of himself placed the phone back down in its base, the blood red of the Eastern Sunrise glowing around him. Flicking his long black hair off his face, he looked down at the hardened leather mask in his hands. Tossing it down onto his pack, he couldn't help but smile.

The Games Were On.


The End

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