Foreign Affairs 1

In the cold, grey alley in London, England, men wearing black suits haunt a building. Inside, a commotion is brewing. A glass breaks against a wall. Suddenly, the door bursts open, splinters against the outside of the building, before the frame falls forward against the other wall. A big muscular man steps out. His shallow eyes meet the stoic look in the back suited men's eyes. He then starts walking away. Approaching the corner, he stops, pulls a round object out of his pocket, and throws it down the alley. A muffled explosion, followed by smoke rising above the surrounding buildings, rises from the alley.

Five streets over, on the fifth story of a residential building, a man holding a modified rifle peers down the road. He squints in the lamp light. We whistles twice. In the distance, an echo is heard, but of three. Turning quickly, he gathered up all he had, and rushed out the door.

At the stairwell, he covered two steps at a time, down through the stories, until he reached ground level. The clerk at the desk snored. Tying up the still sleeping clerk, he heard distant sirens. He struck a match, set a curtain on fire, and ran out the door.

The muscular man rounded the corner ahead. "The deed is done," he said.

"Did you make sure the grenade landed in their group?"

"Didn't have to, Marco. The walls collapsed."

Marco, still holding the gun, saw a red and blue shadow against a nearby wall. Dropping to a knee, he turned, and as soon as he could see the front bumper, he emptied a cartridge into the engine. Exploding in a vicious fireball, the engine dropped, breaking the front axle, and causing the vehicle to spin around, tumble, and crash into a nearby building.

"Okay, there will be more. Let's go to the wharf. You take route A, I'll take B," Macro whispered.

The muscular man dashed down the alley to his left, took a long street down to the river, and waited to catch his breath. After a minute, he began wondering where his partner had gone. A man, peeked out from behind a building. Looking behind him, he ran across the street, and he suddenly came to realization that he was on ice. He slipped, hit a pole, and fell sprawled across the ice. He sat up, brushed himself off, and careful crawled off the ice. Upon standing up, he looked over the Thames, and saw a small yacht. He waved his arms, and the captain waved back.

The yacht slowly turned, and pulled forward to dock. Suddenly, police cars come from everywhere, and Marco, still holding a gun, used an entire magazine to cover their retreat, and jumped on board.