Chapter 1
Johnathan sat on the rooftop, sniper aimed at the exit, waiting. The team inside was already at work, setting off the anthrax alarms, getting the target to evacuate. Soon, the alarms went off, people rushed out the door. Now came the hard part.
Johnathan saw the target, a middle aged man, brown hair, with a goatee, Light grey suit, and a steel briefcase. He centered the scope on the man, a pulled the trigger.
All hell broke loose. The bullet swept out, taking the target's head away. Then bullets spat into the cement the rifle was positioned on, Johnathan was diving backwards, as part of some unknown sense that something was wrong. He took cover behind the ramshackle room housing the stairs, slipping his Sig Sauer P228 out of his jacket.
He looked around the corner, spotting five men on the rooftop next-door. They opened fire, Johnathan slipped back around the corner, just in time, as the plaster next to his head exploded. He remembered how thin the plaster was, and emptied his clip in a rectangular pattern. He kicked out, shoving the plaster in, making a hole just big enough for a person. He slipped through, onto the staircase, running down it.
He got onto the thirty-fifth floor, looking around, pistol in hand. It was empty, as it should have been. The last twenty floors of the thirty five floor building had been made off limits, after some toxic mold was found. The clean-up team had vanished the day before, and had not yet been found.
Johnathan started sprinting down flights of stairs, until he got to the twenty-fifth floor, slowing down, he slipped down the last five stairs quietly. When he reached the fifteenth floor, he stopped. No one was there.
The lower fifteen floors were part of an office building, and Johnathan was staring at empty cubicles, on a Thursday. Johnathan know something was up, and when he reached the sixth floor, he understood what.
He could hear voices and footsteps below him. A group of people were coming up, and judged by the clanking noises, they were coming up for him. Johnathan spotted a fire exit out the window, so he ran out into the offices. He moved along the wall, judging which door to enter to get there.
He grabbed the doorknob.
Locked.
He kicked twice, blasting the door open. The footsteps stopped, and then started up again, faster, getting louder. They had heard him.
Johnathan pulled out his Sig as he ran to the window, putting two rounds into before he dove through the glass, onto the fire escape. He sprinted and hopped down, until he reached the ground. He sprinted away from the target's building into an alley. He ran and ran and ran, until he could no longer hear the sirens. He was safe.