On the southern western side of the city, crowds were beginning to grow, making their way to other festivities. 

The city’s people were getting livelier as the music bands intermingled in the streets. Sounds reverberated through the city buildings’ acoustic halls. Vendors of all sorts were beginning to sell their wares. Merchants were selling vegetables, some paintings, others crêpes, and one selling hand-stitched hats. 

While the streets bustled with excitement, a single individual decided to escape it all by standing on the rooftop.

He wore a violet plum suit. 

“Damn it.” He grumbled to himself. “Torch officers, I tell ya. Not worth their salt in the sand. We should have been involved earlier. We could have avoided this if we were there instead of them.”

He knelt down and began surveying the landscape. His glare bounced from the building to the masses, streets, and serpentine canals. 

The crowd was growing larger by the minute as it congregated further north of Nezzar Square. As he scanned the landscape, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. 

“Found ya.”

As he spoke to himself, another individual approached from behind carrying a briefcase. Despite the differences in clothing and style, they were clearly peers from the same organization.

“You didn’t have to leave so early.” He commented.

“What does it matter? We are here now, and I found him.”

“Oh, should we get in contact with P then?”

“No. I got it. Plus, she is busy right now. We don’t need to call her for every little thing.”

The second individual nodded in agreement from the sound words. 

He then laid the briefcase, which he held flat on its side, before popping the latches. 

“Let the others on standby know so they can get into positions for retrieval.” 

“Roger that,” he responded by removing parts from the briefcase to hand over. His words were meek, but he was eager to finish the job. 

The one standing watch kept his vision focused. He was not going to lose the target.

As he was handed the assembled components, his partner had another question.

“Can you hit him from here?”

“Of course. I’ll have you know I scored a 72 on the Marxes Exam.” 

“Ohhh, impressive! By the way, who is the target?”

“Not entirely sure. Telling from how he’s been moving and a rumor I heard from Luna, supposedly one of those freelancers. Personally, I think there are far too many to keep track of. Given how he more or less slipped through Torch security without them noticing a missing uniform, well, he’s half decent at the very least.”

“Makes sense. I still think one of us should have been at the docks, but that’s not my place to say.”

“I wholeheartedly agree,” He said, loading a magazine containing tranquilizing bullets. He propped up the rifle on the ledge of the building to steady it.

There was one last thing to do, and he achieved that by brushing a loose lock of his hair out of the way before peering down the scope to set his sights on his target.

As the target moved swiftly through the narrow streets and alleys, they expertly blended into the bustling crowds whenever they emerged onto the main street. This strategic maneuver kept them concealed from ground-level pursuers and potential observers on the rooftops and balconies above.

***

“Come again, did you say a young man. Describe him in detail as best you can... No! Don’t kill him. Restrain him, and I will do the interrogation when I get there. He’s dangerous. I think I know who he works for. Keep everyone else away once you’ve done what I said. I am meeting Bruno shortly. I have to go underground and lose some annoying pests.”

After ending his call, he broke the SIM card and tossed it in the trash; the device was thrown in a passing canal. 

There was a procedure when one was compromised, and he knew the handbook inside and out. Granted, there was no actual handbook. In fact, he had recently picked up quite a lot from a new individual he admired to the point of calling a teacher. His so-called teacher was very calculative and intelligent; however, he was quick to snap at you should you make a mistake.

“I better hurry because if they get involved, I am screwed.”

***

Back on the roof, the individual with the rifle signaled to those on the ground. 

Calming his breathing to steady his aim—he peered through the scope, tracking his target. He noticed the large crowd of individuals the target was walking towards. That was less than ideal, for the target would blend right in, making things worse. A slight mishap, such as a gust of wind or a jumping dancer, takes the unintended shot instead. None of this caught his attention as something else entirely caught his gaze.

The entire mob was moving in unison northbound, but that made it more evident when he noticed a single individual going against the wave. He was wearing one of the celebratory masks and a bandana. 

There was nothing out of character, as many individuals were dressed or accessorizing with the festival theme. But that was until the individual pulled two shiny canisters out of his utility belt. 

The masked figure moved toward the crowd’s edge and released the two smoke capsules from their containers. Smoke billowed out in two different colors, spiking everyone’s excitement.

The crowd began to cheer, chant, and raise their arms. Their excitement was through the roof as the smoke continued to funnel through the streets.

It wasn’t long, as it happened in mere moments—the target disappearing amongst the sea of bystanders and slipping entirely out of sight. 

The individual on the roof jumped upward, scanning in all directions in a flurry of hysteria. 

No, no, no.

It was too late. The masked man and the target were gone. 

Over the radio, various on-the-ground agents were in a mass panic, and they searched through the citizens.

“I lost track!”

“Where is he?”

“Move, move, move!”

“Get out of the way!”

Losing color in his face, his partner, standing by his side, patted his shoulder to ease him. 

“It’s alright. But…you know… P’s going to be pissed.”

“Shut up.”