impact. With a groan on his lips, he reached for the bag over his shoulder containing his disassembled GR-99. When he opened the canvas sack, his eyes widened when he saw that the case was empty. He couldn’t believe his bad luck. It must have fallen out of the bag during his tumble.
All of a sudden the roof of the cable car by Sheridan’s feet erupted as bullets fired by the imposter tore holes through the metal as if it were made of paper. He scrambled back on his hands and feet from the steady stream of fire coming up from underneath him. Sheridan glanced over his shoulder and saw that he was running out of space. He knew he had to act soon or before long he would have nowhere left to go. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied a metal railing that ran along the length of the car’s roof. A plan born of desperation formed in his mind. He jumped to his feet and dove for the railing. He felt his hands grasp hold of the bar just as his body began to fall over the side of the car. Sheridan brought his feet up to his chest and then kicked out as hard as he could, breaking the glass window in front of him. With momentum on his side, Sheridan swung inside the cable car, landing just off to the side of his surprised opponent.
The man quickly recovered, spun about, and brought up his pistol to fire.
Sheridan anticipated the move and lashed out with his right hand, hitting his opponent hard on the wrist. Like a dry twig snapping, the bones in the man’s wrist broke. The imposter howled in pain and dropped his weapon. Sheridan dropped down to pick up the pistol only to receive a knee to the side of his head. Stars filled his eyes as his head shot to one side. A second later, he tasted the warm coppery tang of blood in his mouth. He spat out a couple of his teeth onto the floor just before his attacker struck again.
From a pocket, the imposter, ignoring the pain in his wrist, pulled out a cord and wrapped it around Sheridan’s neck. With a deep grunt, the man pulled back on the rope. Right away, Sheridan could feel the cord choking him. He struggled to get to his feet. He could feel the man’s breath on his neck as the operative tried to choke the life out of him. Sheridan gasped for air. He reached up with his hands and fought in desperation to break the snake-like grip of the cord around his throat. It was no use, the man wasn’t going to let go until Sheridan was dead. With his heart pounding away in his ears and his vision narrowing, he knew that if he didn’t escape in the next couple of seconds, he never would.
The voice of his unarmed combat instructor at the Academy yelled at him. “Fight dirty. It’s you or him!” With that, Sheridan shot his head back, hitting the assailant’s nose with the back of his head. The impact didn’t break it, but it stunned him for a brief moment. It was all Sheridan needed. He dropped to one knee and thrust his right elbow straight back into the man’s groin.
The imposter moaned, released his hold on the cord, and staggered back away from Sheridan.
First, Sheridan pulled the rope from his neck and took a deep breath to fill his burning lungs. Next, he dropped to the floor of the cable car and scooped up the fallen pistol. He swung around, brought up the weapon, and fired a single shot that struck the imposter in the chest. With a look of disbelief on his ashen face, the Chosen agent reached for the door handle. Before Sheridan could get back up onto his feet, the man opened the door and fell out.
“Jesus,” muttered Sheridan when he looked down and watched as his attacker’s body was sliced into hundreds of pieces in an industrial mulcher that was part of the city’s composting efforts. He lowered himself to the floor and laid back. His body ached everywhere. He had just replaced several of his missing teeth with new porcelain ones, all of which had been knocked free and lay on the metal floor in a pool of blood and spittle.
The car began to slow.
Sheridan
All of a sudden the roof of the cable car by Sheridan’s feet erupted as bullets fired by the imposter tore holes through the metal as if it were made of paper. He scrambled back on his hands and feet from the steady stream of fire coming up from underneath him. Sheridan glanced over his shoulder and saw that he was running out of space. He knew he had to act soon or before long he would have nowhere left to go. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied a metal railing that ran along the length of the car’s roof. A plan born of desperation formed in his mind. He jumped to his feet and dove for the railing. He felt his hands grasp hold of the bar just as his body began to fall over the side of the car. Sheridan brought his feet up to his chest and then kicked out as hard as he could, breaking the glass window in front of him. With momentum on his side, Sheridan swung inside the cable car, landing just off to the side of his surprised opponent.
The man quickly recovered, spun about, and brought up his pistol to fire.
Sheridan anticipated the move and lashed out with his right hand, hitting his opponent hard on the wrist. Like a dry twig snapping, the bones in the man’s wrist broke. The imposter howled in pain and dropped his weapon. Sheridan dropped down to pick up the pistol only to receive a knee to the side of his head. Stars filled his eyes as his head shot to one side. A second later, he tasted the warm coppery tang of blood in his mouth. He spat out a couple of his teeth onto the floor just before his attacker struck again.
From a pocket, the imposter, ignoring the pain in his wrist, pulled out a cord and wrapped it around Sheridan’s neck. With a deep grunt, the man pulled back on the rope. Right away, Sheridan could feel the cord choking him. He struggled to get to his feet. He could feel the man’s breath on his neck as the operative tried to choke the life out of him. Sheridan gasped for air. He reached up with his hands and fought in desperation to break the snake-like grip of the cord around his throat. It was no use, the man wasn’t going to let go until Sheridan was dead. With his heart pounding away in his ears and his vision narrowing, he knew that if he didn’t escape in the next couple of seconds, he never would.
The voice of his unarmed combat instructor at the Academy yelled at him. “Fight dirty. It’s you or him!” With that, Sheridan shot his head back, hitting the assailant’s nose with the back of his head. The impact didn’t break it, but it stunned him for a brief moment. It was all Sheridan needed. He dropped to one knee and thrust his right elbow straight back into the man’s groin.
The imposter moaned, released his hold on the cord, and staggered back away from Sheridan.
First, Sheridan pulled the rope from his neck and took a deep breath to fill his burning lungs. Next, he dropped to the floor of the cable car and scooped up the fallen pistol. He swung around, brought up the weapon, and fired a single shot that struck the imposter in the chest. With a look of disbelief on his ashen face, the Chosen agent reached for the door handle. Before Sheridan could get back up onto his feet, the man opened the door and fell out.
“Jesus,” muttered Sheridan when he looked down and watched as his attacker’s body was sliced into hundreds of pieces in an industrial mulcher that was part of the city’s composting efforts. He lowered himself to the floor and laid back. His body ached everywhere. He had just replaced several of his missing teeth with new porcelain ones, all of which had been knocked free and lay on the metal floor in a pool of blood and spittle.
The car began to slow.
Sheridan
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