The first floor was just as quiet as the ground floor. The corridor was longer here, lined with closed doors and ornate paintings. The lighting was dimmer, casting long shadows across the floor.
And there were three guards here.
Scar stayed behind a pillar as one passed.
He waited.
Then moved.
One guard disappeared around the corner.
Scar followed stealthily behind him.
The man suddenly turned.
Their eyes met.
For half a second, neither moved.
Then the guard raised his rifle to fire. But before he could pull the trigger, Scar threw his knife.
The blade flew straight into the man's hand, disabling him and causing the rifle to fall to the ground.
The guard screamed, looking up at his pierced hand, the knife still embedded in between his palm.
Scar closed the distance quickly and drove his fist into the man's throat, then followed with a brutal elbow to his temple. The man collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.
