Sam Fisher- AK Evasion

  The Citroën’s driver throws the car into reverse and begins rolling back at a high speed. A guy in the passenger seat thrusts his upper body out the window and leans over the hood—and he’s holding an AK-47. I jump to my feet and run for cover, but there’s nothing but the storefronts behind me. The shooter fires and the street becomes a crashing war zone. I slam forward and hit the ground as bullets rip over my head. The windows of the travel agency behind me shatter, and someone inside shouts. The Citroën squeals to a halt again, ready to move forward for another volley. I’m aware of other civilians, alerted by the noise, looking out of restaurants and shops.

  When the gunfire begins again, the bystanders scream and run. I realize I have to lead the killers away from the pedestrians, so I do what might be considered a foolhardy thing and jump to my feet. I run into the middle of the road and stand behind the Citroën as it moves along the street. They seem to have lost sight of me. Should I run for my car? It’s about fifty yards away in a small lot on the opposite side of the square. No, it’s too risky. By the time I got there, they’d be on top of me. The Pazhan could never withstand a round of fire from an AK-47.

  The shooter points and says something to the driver. They’ve spotted me. The Citroën performs a wild U-turn and accelerates in my direction. I run to the opposite side of the square, the side next to the water. A short brick wall separates the road from the marina and a small lot where seven or eight cars are parked. I sail over the wall just as the bullets begin to fly again. Chips from the stones in the wall scatter like shrapnel, so I hug the ground. I hear the car zoom past, shriek to a stop, and back up, swerving closer to the edge of the road.

  This time my instincts don’t fail me. I roll like a log toward the parked cars and then squirm between a Chevrolet pickup and a Volkswagen. The passenger sprays the side of the street, perforating the two vehicles with dozens of bullets. Windshields and headlights explode and tires are blown. I snake beneath the pickup as the rounds ricochet within inches of my body. The noise is deafening and must surely be attracting the local police. I hope it’s attracting the local police!

- Splinter Cell, Chapter 20