Apologize for the rather lengthy hiatus. Hope you all enjoy this chapter. Thank you for reading

The coordinates were a tough go at first. Providence took extra precaution to cover its tracks. However, it seemed the ICA would always be one step ahead. Unraveling the codes and symbols, they had a pretty good idea where to find him. The stinging winds and biting snow was brutal, especially given the agent's delicate condition. In the distance was an old railroad track, partially obstructed by the blinding snow.

The agent's steel blue eyes narrowed to keep the coldness from stinging them. The closer he got, he discovered a multi-car train seemingly stalled on said track. This had to be The Constant's home base , so to speak. He eases himself through one of the small car windows. The narrow corridor was endless, dozens of cabin room doors lined its sides. He had to take extreme caution. There was, without a doubt, bodyguards and snipers around every corner.

"I'm in"

47 radios to Knight.

"Good..finally. Just, be careful. Arthur Edwards is a dangerous man"

"Oh, believe me. I'm well aware of that"

The assassin carefully resumes creeping along the corridor. Taking note of one of the rare instances a door was actually opened. Peering inside, 47 discovers a guard asleep on duty. Just like he had at the office station. He incapacitates him with one swift motion. It was going to take a fair amount of effort to get into this particular uniform, as to be expected, the midsection was stressed beyond its limits.

Somehow, despite this, he was able to power through it. Even managing to sling the HK33 over his shoulder. So far, so good. When coming upon one of the cab's doors, the train's whistle screamed, it signaling it was ready to depart. The overall inertia nearly had the agent falling backwards. He steadies himself and resumes unlocking the door with a pick. What lied in front of him was nothing short of nightmarish. This cab seemed bigger, big enough for a table and few chairs, that is.

With his disguise, thankfully, he managed to evade detection. 47 continues, attempting to maintain his casual demeanor. But inside was chaos, the baby beginning to practice his ICA defense classes early, certainly didn't help matters. The assassin winced, but was determined to push forward. Without warning, he heard the semi-distant yell from one of the guards. They had found the unconscious body in the room.

"Everyone! Stay alert! There's a psycho on the loose!"

47's heart starts racing, his anxiety soaring. He was so close now, this couldn't be where it ended. He takes a deep gulp of air, praying they didn't grow wise. He tipped his visor down to shield his face even further. Just as he was about to reach the second corridor door, he heard the previously incapacitated guard shout.

"That's him!"

The assassin's heart was now in his throat. His only option was to climb out the small window and shimmy alongside the moving train. He had no idea how he was going to pull it off, much less if it would even work. But he had to try. With as much stamina as his tired body could muster, he heaves himself through the narrow frame. A blast of cold air and snow whipping his face mercilessly. The assassin clung on for dear life. His black leather gloves digging into the cold steel. He could faintly hear the guards frantically search about.

"He's gone! Where the Hell did he go?!"

Taking extra precaution to not harm his son, he gradually places one foot beside the other. Not stopping until he had reached the third passenger car down. There was a good chance they wouldn't go beyond their cab. Thankfully, it seemed this one was sparsely patrolled. A guard fast asleep in an area of what seemed like endless lined seating. The bitter wind blew with fury through the open window hatch. Once again, moving with extreme vigilance.

Although, as it seemed, luck was simply not on his side. The sharp blast from the chilling temperatures roused the resting guard. 47's eyes grew wide as he saw him reach for the ARX strapped to his back. He was quick, but the seasoned assassin was quicker. Lightening fast trigger finger with his Silverballer, before the man could blink, he found a silenced bullet planted deep into his skull. The agent smirked, normally he would dispose the body out the open hatch. But there were weight limits he had to abide by for his son's sake.

He managed to successfully open yet another door. Was he ever going to reach the Constant? The drone of a radio somewhere within the cab, bright colors from a soviet poster caught his attention. Namely, the communist hammer and sickle. What a nasty bit of work he was up against, The moving of the train and bitter weather provided for unstable ground. He found himself swaying from side-to-side involuntarily, this cab revealed at least three guards, but in entirely different tactical gear. It was almost reminiscent of WW2 winter camo smocks.

This, naturally, made him stick out like a sore thumb. The one guard whipped around to face him. Shouting something in Bulgarian. The agent's grip tightened around the silencer. Making quick order to reload. He ducks behind a bench seat for safety, watching as plumes of wood dust erupt around him from the gunfire. He takes one last glance, three perfect headshots. Despite him not being there, Knight could still see everything that was unfolding. His stunned and spirited voice erupted over the agent's earpiece.

"Damn, man. If the ICA doesn't give you a promotion or somethin', they're crazy"