Igi 2 «Pro»

Thump—CRACK.

“The scenic route,” Jones replied, handing her a pistol. “Can you walk?”

The white light and thunderclap sent them stumbling. Before the first man could blink, Jones was on them. A rifle butt to the temple. A knee to the second’s chest. They fell in a heap.

The rain over Siberia was a liar. It fell soft as a whisper, promising peace, while below, the Krasny Prison Facility hummed with enough firepower to level a small army. David Jones adjusted the strap of his suppressed MP5 and pressed closer to the icy rock. Thump—CRACK

Jones’s blood turned cold. Compromised.

Here’s a short story inspired by IGI 2: Covert Strike .

The main gate was suicide. Too many cameras, too many heavy-caliber nests. Instead, Jones went vertical. He scaled the drainage conduit with his fingertips, pulling himself up hand over hand until he reached a ventilation shaft. The metal groaned, but the rain swallowed the noise. Before the first man could blink, Jones was on them

“Change of plans,” he said, pointing to a fuel truck parked near the south wall. “We’re leaving loud.”

Nightshade looked at him. “You lost the stealth bonus.”

He grabbed a grenade from his belt, pulled the pin, and lobbed it toward the main generator. The explosion turned the night orange. In the chaos, they sprinted across the tarmac. Bullets cracked past. Nightshade fired twice, and a sniper tumbled from a water tower. They fell in a heap

Nightshade’s cell was a reinforced door with a keypad. Jones didn’t have the code. He had something better—a portable bypass tool he’d “acquired” from a disgraced MI6 quartermaster. He pressed it to the panel, and the lock clicked open in twelve seconds.

“I can run.”