It's been nearly a week since I killed those men. Parkinson is taking his sweet time trying to find me. Either that, or he already has, and he's just waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.

I'm currently taking a cab to my safe house in New Haven, Connecticut from a hotel near Yale University. I could tell that I had at least two spies following me, giving information of my whereabouts to Parkinson. There was a black van parked on the corner of the block next to the safe house. The cabbie dropped me off at the house and I payed him accordingly. I told him to have a nice day and he drove off.

I entered the house calmly, locking the door behind me. I pulled a pistol out of my bag and slung it back over my shoulder. I cautiously continued through the house and made my way to the basement, which is where I kept an arsenal of weapons mounted on four walls. Trunks were full of grenades, smoke bombs, and just about anything that was a military-grade explosive. Walls were mounted with assault rifles, sniper rifles, automatic shotguns, etc. I was good to go. I get decked out in FBI SWAT gear and put on a ski mask and thermal vision goggles. I had heavy-duty boots and Kevlar from head to toe. I had two pistols, two Army knives, and a sawed-off automatic shotgun.

A bang. Bang. Bang. Smash. My front door fell to the ground and a team of soldiers stormed the place. I lift up my shotgun and cock it. Blood will be spilled.

I turned the corner and shot two soldiers approaching the door. Another man was at the top of the stairs and I shot him too. I kicked down the door and it landed on a man. I jumped on top of it and shot three people. My shotgun then ran out of ammo. I dropped it and pulled out my two pistols. I pointed one downwards and shot the man in the head through the door.

I continued trough the house and out the front door. I duck behind a chair and peer over the top. On the rooftops nearby, I counted four snipers. That van was still there, and four more armored vehicles had pulled up next to it. All this for me. They should've just run me down.

I take out four grenades and roll them under each armored vehicle. They blow up and burst into flames. I prop up one pistol and aim carefully. I don't have any sights, so I'm gonna have to eyeball it. I shoot one, then another. Then another. Then another. Now, all that's left is the van. I stand up confidently and approach the van with both pistols at the ready. Alright, Parkinson. Nowhere to hide...

A shot coming from inside the van shoots the pistol out of my left hand. Then another shot, shooting out the one in my right hand. I grab my Army knives as a masked individual steps out of the van. I get in a battle position. He pulls out two knives of his own, each longer and sharper than mine. He looks almost like the Winter Soldier.

I go in for a swing, but he anticipates it and slides across the ground, nicking me in the leg. He gets up behind me and drops both knives. He grabs my arms and twists them behind my back until I drop my knives. He kicks me and I dive forward and smack my head on the van.  He takes out a syringe and injects a large object into my neck.

Ow!

The last thing I see before slipping me into unconsciousness is a large boot coming down onto my face.