Late night. A rain-soaked alley behind a luxury hotel in the city. The bodyguard, soaked and bleeding from a skirmish, leans against the wall, gun in hand. He’s alone — or so he thinks.
Assassin
(Voice low, from the shadows)
You’re not as careful as I expected.
Infiltrator
(Doesn’t flinch, voice calm)
You’re late.
Assassin
(Steps into view, black coat dripping, blade in hand)
Didn’t know this was a meeting.
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