Remnants of Time

Prologue

Song Choice: Silver Crimson Black by Zack Hemsey

London, A week ago

Voices joined the noise of the metropolitan city that featured the honking and screeching of cars night and day. The only difference was that these voices were hidden behind the walls of an empty and tonight, guarded office building. They were supposed to be kept in the background, to not be heard.
A redhead in a sand- colored business suit nodded, the command for the action to finally begin, the result of endless preparation and diplomatic back-and-forth between the CIA and the other side who claimed to possess very delicate intel.

Agents focused their technical equipment on the other building, the smaller one with the dark roof that they had determined as safe exchange location days ago. There was only one back door beside the main entrance and that one had been bricked up since half a decade. If anything went south, back-up would handle the situation in an instant. No one could know the government agency operated on foreign ground right now, not with these highly classified documents involved. What they had been promised could shatter the European Union, even the NATO.

Two armed figures, provided with subtle headsets and two brown attaché cases, moved out of a bus and crossed the street. Twelve pairs of eyes were on them, the men knew their team had their backs. As soon as they stood before the smaller building, they entered it and, as arranged, took the lift to the eleventh level and stepped into the room with the left hand placed on the watch on their right wrist. The sign. They were welcomed, placed the cases on a table to reveal the enormous amount of money inside. Everything as agreed.
The three men who'd expected the agents nodded and the first of them put away the handgun he'd drawn. With the numbers clear in his mind, he opened a safe that showed the promised files. In exchange for the money. Everything in order.
He took the files out and turned around.

Only then, a window shattered. Immediately, the men started to shoot into the window's direction. Then, it was quiet. All of the sudden, an object emitting a sharp, bright light flew into the room. The men went down, sought cover. Little noises appeared in the big empty level area, little noises like books falling and pens crunching under feet. The men knew those sounds were meant to taunt and confuse. But maybe, maybe they were dealing with more than just one attacker and they were really coming closer? After a couple of seconds that sped up every heart in the room in expectation, one of the men couldn't take the suspense anymore. He stood up and fired the entire round in his semiautomatic, eyes closed. But the room was empty apart from his colleagues, the agents and him.
Suddenly, the dazzling light disappeared, leaving all the men blind even in the darkness they'd managed to operate in before. They didn't see the brunette hair moving through the room; they didn't hear the silent footsteps nearing and very definitely, they didn't see the little round trademark plates buzzing blue with electricity flying at them.
Soon, they were all down, unable to ever stand up again. The unmistakable scent of burnt hair filled the atmosphere. Blood was sticking to the ground.
The attacker moved through the room with powerful strides, always staying behind the walls for cover. Every professional would've known this exchange was supervised and backup was on its way already, without doubt.
But even if they spotted this individual, they'd never find out who this person was. All the masks, tricks and lies applied had already been ensuring that level of secrecy for years.
The attacker moved fast, unseen and unheard, quickly grabbing the files and both cases. In exchange, a strand of red hair, and a drop of blood, all collected and stored with the greatest care, were placed throughout the room. It would lead the government on the tail of a certain Russian redhead, just like the remaining electric shockers she was known for.
When the CIA backup had finally conquered all the stairs and entered the room where the gleaming white light had been seen only a minute ago, every agent was ready to shoot the opposition. All they found, however, was emptiness. No visual on the attacker, not even one hint as to where he'd disappeared.

Suddenly, glass shattered. Everyone turned around immediately, weapons ready. They didn't shoot. Silence and beating hearts. Seconds passed. No one dared to move. Whoever was playing games with them, whoever was trying to kill them like their other agents, would pay. A minute of nerve- wracking silence followed and the agents, though more prepared than their predecessors, were growing irritated. Nothing happened.
Out of the nothing, the shattering noise returned. But no wind hit the skin of the agents. Confused glances were exchanged. One of them slowly walked into the direction the sound had come from, gun aimed, the one with the calmest hand. He inspected a wall and when he returned, holding up a mini device that was programmed to relay the same sound every minute, everyone let out a sigh of relief.
The leader of the team nodded to himself, he would make sure this attacker would pay tenfold for making them look like fools, for playing with his trained agents. This psychological attack would leave scars, and combined with the high-stress levels of their jobs, some in his team would need even more counseling.
One of the agents called for the team and pointed at the corpse-littered ground. A drop of blood with a long hair in it. A good find, more than just a blood sample. Perfect.
The unit's leader smiled. They'd catch this psycho quickly.
There were enough traces to follow around.