The night air hung heavily around the head of the assassin while anticipation circulated throughout the atmosphere. The world seemed to hold its breath as if bracing itself for the rain that was due to pour down from the luminous clouds overhead and the bullets that would surely be fired from the loaded gun which was gripped tightly in the assassinÕs hands. A single drop of sweat made its way down the dark skin of his temple which was already glistening with perspiration. Despite the oppressive heat, the assassin wore a heavy vest full of ammo, atop his long-sleeved shirt and pants. Though it may have been unfitting for the weather, this black attire helped him stay hidden from the guards who blocked the doorway just fifty yards ahead. Taking a hiding spot behind a dumpster the assassin raised his gun. He had worked towards this day for years and didnÕt plan on failing. Pressing his face against the cold metal he steadied, aimed, and fired. The men were taken out in just two shots. Though he had just killed for the first time the assassinÕs hardened face didnÕt change; he stepped past the corpses without a thought about who they were or how many people were going to grieve their passing. Once close enough to employ the full strength of his arms he pushed hard against the thick metal doors that kept him out of the building. With force they gave way, swinging open with a loud screech that alerted the guards inside of his presence. After barely putting his foot inside the door, a bullet whizzed past his head. There was no time to make sure his gun was set and he simply lifted his weapon and shot at the man standing at the end of the hall hitting him square in the chest. The man was dead before he hit the floor. Quickly moving down the passageway the assassinÕs boots thudded dully as they slapped the concrete. Reaching the end of the hall he pressed himself against the wall, listening for other guards who may have been alerted by the gunshot. Sure enough three men came running around the corner. He fired and took out two of them but the other raised his rifle and fired, hitting the stone just to the right of the assassin. Another shot from his gun and the guard was dead, lying on the floor with his bloody coworkers. Thinking it was safe the assassin turned the corner and began to creep down the dimly lit corridor. The old fluorescent lights overhead buzzed, creating the only audible sound. Reaching the next corner he stopped for a moment and wiped the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. Taking a deep breath he plunged into the next section of the passageway only to find that it was empty. The silence made him a bit uneasy. Where had all the guards gone? Surely the building had more than six protectors. But as he reached the next corner he ignored the knot that had formed at the pit of his stomach and listened to the voices he heard echoing off the walls, apparently coming from the end of the hall. They were evacuating the building! The chief was being rushed to the roof to catch a helicopter. Knowing he couldnÕt waste anymore time, he rushed forward shooting at the two men who chatted by the stairwell. He hit one but the other pulled out a pistol and the assassin had to duck as he ran to avoid being shot. He fired again, miss. Once more, another miss. The pistol cracked again and the assassin slammed himself against the wall to avoid the bullet. Reloading his gun quickly the assassin threw himself to the floor to avoid another shot. Lifting his gun he fired and the pistol clambered to the ground as its holder died. Crawling to his feet the assassin ran up the stairs only to be greeted by two more guards, charging at him with raised guns. With a few quick shots they both keeled over before they could attack. Continuing on his way the assassin ran around another corner and was met with the firing of guns from two men blocking the elevator. He fired back and kept running. Bullets flew around him but soon enough the two men had fallen. Stepping inside the elevator he sent it up straight to the roof. The doors opened and revealed six men waiting for him with rifles. He tried to shoot at them but felt a burning sensation and lost control of his right arm, signifying that a bullet had burrowed its way straight into the bone. He kept trying to fire with just his left hand but his aim was off. He took out one, two men but he was outnumbered. The assassin fell to the ground, darkness filling eyes as rain began to fall on his dying body. As he closed his eyes he heard the helicopter holding his prize taking off and leaving him behind. While he accepted death, red letters flashing GAME OVER appeared over his corpse; much to the dismay of the little boy gripping the controllers who was all out of quarters.