Knock. Knock. Knock.

Three steady knocks interrupted the Russian chatter.

Looks were exchanged.

"One of yours?" one of them said in a heavy Russian accent.

"Niet." the other replied.

The bald man stepped towards the door, gun in hand.

It was a classic Russian pistol the man was wielding.

A makarov, security switched off, gun cocked and loaded.

He slowly unlocked the door, holding the gun against it.

"Yes?"

Bang.

The door flew out of it's frame against the Russian's face, sending him flying against the wall behind him.

A second Russian was sprinting down the corridor, AK in hand.

He expected to see someone, a killer, an intruder, someone.

But no. Everything there was, was the lifeless corpse of his comrade.

Crack.

His neck snapped as the man in suit behind him turned the Russian's head to an almost inhuman angle.

He shoved the body to the ground and calmly walked down the corridor, Glock .22 in hand.

Click clack.

The sound of him loading his pistol echoed through the entire building.

It was surprisingly silent.

That was, until three of the Russians ran towards him, knives.

One, two, three, four, five loud shots pierced not only through the silence but also through the Russian's bodies.

They all dropped to the ground. One of them not so dead.

He shot one of his lungs. Blood soon filled both of them as the masked man shot the injured Russian's throat.

Russian shouting. Gunsmoke filled the entire corridor, causing the fire alarm to go wild.

A baseball bat-wielding Russian ran towards the assailant.

Click, click, click.

The gun was empty.

Quickly the masked killer dodged the incoming attack by ducking under the horizontally incoming bat and shoving his knee into the stomach of the brave Russian.

The Russian flew on his back, moaning in agony.

The masked man simply stepped on his face with all his might.

"CRACK" was the last thing the Russian heard.

The corridor came to an end, which was a wooden door.

The loading of AKs and commands being shouted were the only things the murderer heard behind the door.

He grabbed a second clip from his suit and loaded the Glock once more.

The door slowly creaked open.

Two, three, four Russians. Shotguns in hand.

One of them was sitting in his chair behind a desk, 1911 pistols in both of his hands.

"Hello... Traitor."

"... I really hate this name you know?" the masked man suddenly spoke.

The man sitting in the chair started to laugh.

"You deserved it though." he said, still laughing, then followed by "Kill him."

The black chicken mask looked at the armed men. All of them were pointing their shotguns at him.

He slowly raised his pistol to shoulder-height, pointing it at the boss.

His right, unarmed hand flipped off the light-switch beside him.

Shots illuminated the darkness for a split-second, the man was jumping from a Russian's bowed back, pointing his gun at the dual-wielding man, then blackness again.

Shots were fired from left and right but eventually seized.

Click. The light-switch was flipped back on.