
An hour had passed since Napoleon’s call for Illya’s back-up had been cut off mid-sentence. Communications had been unable to re-establish contact, but had managed to pinpoint Solo’s general location. It had turned out to be a seemingly abandoned factory, which was apparently devoid of life. At least, that had been Illya’s train of thought before he heard footsteps echoing towards him.
Looking around the corridor in which he was walking, Illya saw nothing which he could duck behind so drew his weapon and carried on going forwards. He found himself hoping that it was Napoleon heading his way, but the gait sounded wrong. Within seconds, a figure dressed in a THRUSH uniform stepped into corridor. It wasn’t Napoleon but he was armed. Both men raised their guns and fired at the same time.
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