"We've been compromised, I repeat, we've been compromised," I hissed into my stopwatch. At least that's what it appeared to be to any passerby. I continued jogging at my steady pace, glancing into the reflective mirrors on the sides on my sunglasses. The same runner had been following me at my pace, highly suspicious considering I'd been changing my pace constantly. Then for the first time, he began catching up to me. The look in his eyes screamed predator and he neared closer and closer. I glanced down and realized he had started sliding a gun out of his pocket; I had to think fast.
Taking a deep breath, I sprinted as fast as I was trained to, running to the nearest restroom up ahead. The man behind me increased his speed and soon he was almost at my heels. "Excuse me, sorry, sorry, just sliding through," I muttered as I began weaving between runners, hoping to shake this guy off my tail. There was a surprisingly large amount of joggers out for such a hot day on the Floridian beach. The weaving got the man to slow down, but he was still hot on my track. Concentrating on the pounding of my feet, the slamming of my shoes against the pavement, I slid off the track and into the women's restroom. If anything, once that man stepped into that restroom the women would spread out and flee like wildfire. He did not hesitate to enter and I was correct in my assumption as per usual; the women ran, shrieking and flailing their arms all the way to the exit. You don't work for the CIA without having gut feelings for these sorts of things.
I didn't have time to hide and there weren't enough women for me to blend in with. Before I knew it, the man had whipped out his gun and was pointing it right at me from the other side of the restroom. A smirk curled at the end of his lips. "Looks like I caught the ever-famous Ryker, eh?"
I had my hands up in surrender. "You work for Darkwell, don't you?" I asked.
"The one and only," he replied, keeping his gun steady. "Now, you're going to walk out with me, calm as can be with this gun in your ribs, and you are going to do what I say. If anything goes wrong... well, I'm sure you're familiar with the consequences." I kept my expression cool and stable as I slowly approached the henchman. I let out a sigh as I got closer and closer. The muscles in his arms began to ease, perfect target.
Using the outside of my foot, I kicked my foot into his wrist, the gun flying out of his hands and sliding across the floor. The henchman reached to jab punch me in the gut. I grabbed his fist, my strength obviously throwing him off, and took the opportunity to swing my foot up into his face, giving him a gushing bloody nose. With the red liquid dripping from his arms, he turned away, attempting to stop the flow. I lunged for the gun and held it steady, not taking my eyes off of the man's stance. Slowly, he drew up his head, wiping away a few more drops of blood and smirking at me. "Take one step closer and I'll pull the trigger," I threatened. "Believe me, you won't have been the first guy I've shot." The man's smile grew wider.
"Oh believe me, I know," he told me, already stepping towards me. I lowered the gun and pulled the trigger towards his right knee. Nothing happened. "Good night, sweet cheeks," and with that he slipped a bottle from his wristband and before I knew it, his smile faded to black and I slipped into unconsciousness.