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This was supposed to be an easy mission. They usually were, and even when they weren’t, she was always notified in advance. But as she tried to peek around the corner of the old brick wall she had her back to, the sudden shower of bullets that forced her back into cover reminded her that today had been an unpleasant surprise. And indeed, today was full of unpleasant surprises, as her accuracy was frustratingly poor, and she was quite confident that it wasn’t her fault.
Break cover. 10 o’clock. Fire. Fire. Return.
In one swift, fluid movement, she rounded the corner, raised her gun, aimed and fired two shots. She’d fired right into the path of her running assailant, and watched as her bullets tore through the concrete, putting small holes in the barrier he was using for cover, one part of a set that had been left behind by an old, never-finished construction project. For a split second, she thought that maybe she’d finally tagged him. And then he got up and made a dash for some new cover. He raised his gun, and she ducked back behind the wall just in time to avoid getting shot. “Who is this guy?!” she muttered.
Identity unknown. Face obscured. Zero schedules match location and time. Assembling profile.
“Yeah, thanks a lot. Very helpful.” She risked another peek around the corner, but no hail of gunfire greeted her this time. She waited for a moment, watching and listening, but nothing moved. The place was quiet. “Where did he go?” she whispered.
Subject location lost. Extrapolating probable route.
A familiar red arrow traced itself onto the dirty cement floor, a visual representation of the extrapolation, sent directly to her visual cortex. It led her from her position to the other end of the alleyway, where her mysterious attacker had been, then off to the left, around the back of the building she’d been using for cover. Cautiously, she stepped out from the behind the wall, handgun at the ready, following the arrow. She paused just for a moment, to get a clear look at the holes left in the wall by the man’s bullets. Not much damage, must be a small caliber, she thought. And there’s no curve, so they must be non-guided. I guess somebody likes antiques…
At the end of the alleyway, she put her back against the wall. She could see the place her attacker had been up close now, and she could see all the holes she’d left from her firefight with him. There didn’t seem to be any blood on the ground, though, confirming her frustrating suspicion that she’d done nothing but miss. She rolled her eyes and put it out of her mind. Once she managed to catch up to him, she’d have another chance to make good on her otherwise spotless hit/miss ratio.
She peeked around the corner, saw nothing, then rounded it. The extrapolation ended right near a dumpster, long abandoned but still reeking of its former contents. She heard a faint shuffling noise from around the far side, and approached the rusted old container cautiously and quietly. Halfway around it, she took a breath, put her finger on the trigger and rushed around the corner. “Don’t move!”
A large rat quickly fled in terror, casting a surprisingly long shadow as it ran off down the empty street, lit only by the dim light of the early morning sun. “Damn,” she muttered. “But then where…?”
The dumpster burst open abruptly. She whipped around, raising her gun quickly, but not quite fast enough. She saw the flash, heard the unmistakable crack of gunfire, and then…
Nothing.
A Straightforward Enigma 