Gordon Renoir, governor of Wessite, most powerful man in the city; The man with the most connections with the politicians, the man with the greatest reserves of money, with eyes all over his city so that no matters, no affairs, no plots and riots and such could ever go unnoticed; The man who was paid to provide peace, who the people saw as dynamic, as magnetic and capable; The man who was infamous in the surrounding city-states, who was feared; The man who, with enough effort and conversation, could have anything he wanted in the world, was afraid. The man who could stir fear in his political enemies, the man who criminals and protesters trembled before, was now trembling over his entire body, quivering like a leaf barely hanging on to the branch tossed into the winds of a storm. Though, one wouldn't have noticed if one were sitting in the car as they hurtled down the main road pushing 70.

"Did we lose them!?" Gordon threw about four looks over his shoulder as he spoke those words, the excess flabs of skin and fat in his cheeks and on his neck jiggling with the skull-rattling shaking of the vehicle. He grappled the leather arm of the door until his knuckles were white.

"I think so, sir--"

"Is anyone on them?! Tell me they're going to be dead in the next five minutes!"

"Sir, my men are doing the best they can--"

"How did this happen!? I can't believe they would make an attempt on my life here!"

"Reis, how is the leg?"

A stifled grunt from the passenger side. "I'll manage--"

"Where are we going right now, and how long until I can get in a safe room?!"

The man in the driver seat gave Gordon a look through the rear-view mirror that was all but wishing to strangle the governor. "Sir, we are currently headed toward the Military Bunker as planned. We'll be there in fifteen minutes, maybe ten if the rear wheel holds up."

"Are you sure they're not following us!?"

"Governor, please remain calm. We'll get you there as quickly as we can."

Gordon didn't seem to hear the man. He turned his eyes down at his expensive, ebony suit, noticing for the first time the sticky warmth coating the underside of his hand resting on his belly. He lifted his hand up, peering at the dark red smudges that covered his hand, smelling the coppery scent of blood. The blood of the bodyguard who had taken the bullet to the head. "AAH!" He almost leapt to his feet, his head bumping roughly with the roof of the vehicle, and began to smack his suit with his hands, attempting to wipe off all the blood. "Gah! G-Get it off!"

The sounds of bullets suddenly filled the air, the car swerving dangerously to one side. Gordon was thrown across the backseat the bangs of gunfire striking the sides of the car. "HOLY GOOOOD!"

"Governor, please put on your seat belt!"

"Where are they?!"

More gunfire, this time spraying the driver side of the car. The driver let out a cry of pain, his entire body cringing to one side. The car swerved again, wheels and tires screeching against the asphalt as several wooden stands from the parade shattered at the front of the car.

"They're coming from the left!"

The driver let out a grunt, cranking the wheel sharply to the right as they entered an intersection. Gordon was screaming the entire time, his body rigid against the cushion of the seat.

"Jordan! Jordan, are you okay?"

The bodyguard let out a low moan through clenched teeth, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. One hand was clenched tightly around the wheel, the other pressed against his lower abdomen where blood was slowly staining his brown jacket. He let out a sharp breath as the road abruptly turned, banking left then right.

"I thought you said they wouldn't follow us!?"

"It's obvious that this is an organized hit, Gordon! They probably got guys stuck all over the city! Shit..."

"Jordan, what's the damage?"

"I can make it to the bunker. Don't worry."

Gordon threw his gaze up at the buildings moving past him, his eyes sweeping over every building face for suspicious reflections of light or flashes of gunfire. He could barely think straight with the metallic grind of the flat tire or the ring of bullets loud in his ears. His body was so charged with enough adrenaline to make him seem like he had drunk too much coffee. He spoke words like the terrorists fired bullets.

"I'm going to find them! I'm going to find them and I'm going to send their asses to jail!" His arms were braced against the door and the arm rest on the other side of him. "And then I'm going to give them the death penalty! Public execution! I'm going to hang them all!"

As he roared, flashes of gunfire erupted from another building before them, almost as if the very same assassins had followed Gordon's escape vehicle and stationed themselves exactly in their way. The driver let out another curse as he swerved the car again to dodge the gunfire. The bullets didn't even hit the car this time as they turned down into a market street. None of them noticed how there were no civilians wandering the streets.

"How many of them are there?!" Gordon cried.

"Mr. Renoir, please shut up!"

"Governor, keep your head down!"