The two agents look quite dangerous, especially the heftier one of the two. You have visions of your attempted tackle, a high school quarterback bouncing off an NFL guard. The bored guard swatting you away like an annoying fly.
“Thief!” you yell, then “Help! Fire!” You heard a statistic that people are more likely to get involved if you shout fire rather than help. By the looks from the bystanders that appears to be true. Crowds look at you and then follow your pointing finger to the big men next to the little car.
The two men freeze, startled. They recover quickly. Hands reaching into their coats, not the movement of someone about to surrender!
“Surely they won’t shoot in a crowded street!” you think to yourself.
You are dead wrong. Both men fire in your direction, frightfully accurate. Bullets miss you by a few inches. Chaos erupts. Half of the people in the street fall flat, the other half look on bewildered before running in a random direction. You decide that lying on the ground and seems to be a fine idea and take a dive behind a vehicle.
Several more shots ring out, both hitting the vehicle you use for cover. An engine being pushed past its limits and the squeal of tires announce the hasty departure of the agents.
You hesitantly get up. You look up and down the street. There is no sign of the old car or the agents.
Agent Jones appears at the corner. His face red and he is breathing hard. He sees you and runs over. “What happened?” he demands.
You give him a quick update. He is visibly angry at you. You guess that he would have preferred you dying in an attempt to stop them rather than live with the failure.
The data is lost and you can only hope that the technology is put to good use, but you doubt it.
The end.
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