[i]10 minutes until attack[/i]

Cameras began to roll, news reporters starting their start of the competition day commentary. World wide coverage of the event meant people in Edmonton Alberta was watching as the WSM was broadcast. The official commentators in a raised booth were beginning a pre-event recap of the day before. Odds on favorites according to them were the defending champ Victor, a new Russian contender, and several old favorites who were making a prime showing.

[i]6 minutes until the attack[/i]

Victor was standing in the middle of a group of reporters, he was answering all the old questions. How had he trained? Where had he trained? Would he ever tell the world what he did for a living? That question was asked of him everytime, what do you do for a living Victor, what do you and Natalie do? You live such incredible lives, but no one knows what you do between WSMs. Victor knew the PMC kept their operatives under a no disclosure clause and a privacy act that kept either side from giving out sensitive info. For all the world knew, Victor and Natalie had huge sums of money but they weren't sure where they came from. Victor just smiled and answered the questions like he always did, dodged some of them, answered the others as truthfully as he could.

[i]One minute to the attack...[/i]

Victor had escaped his tormentors and was lining up with the other competitors. Trading playful and friendly jabs with some of them...

Then there was a roar...

The Metro bombs all went off at the same time or near too it. Within a 3 minute span. some of the bombs had been set wrong, and between the times of 11:59 am, and 12:01 pm the bombs went off. Explosions rocked the city. Reporters barked into their microphones about them, cameras kept rolling. And the first hint that Victor wasn't some kind of trust fund baby was shown. For about two seconds he was shocked, he had hunched over at the shoulders in surprise. But after that he just turned and looks over towards the nearest metro station exit. Black smoke and flame was pouring up out of it as the high yield bomb had almost gutted the place and set to flame anything flamable. Civilians were scrambling free from the entrance howling in terror.

Over the roar of the bombs, no one heard the report of a rifle. The sharpshooter had had a heart shot dialed in on Victor, but with him having turned the shot was off, and it struck him high on the ride side of his chest, cutting into muscle and bone rather then muscle and heart. Victor stumbled and went down to a knee.

Victor grunted as he felt the bite of a bullet. It'd been a long time since he'd taken a round to flesh. He was usually good enough or lucky enough to dodge shots like that. He dropped to a knee, below the gaze of almost everyone, he coughed as he tried to shunt away the pain. It didn't take long. He stood back up, and looked over the crowd at Natalie, his first need is to make sure she's okay. He spots her and despite the bleeding hole in his chest he nods to her silently asking if she's okay. His next need is to look around to figure out what the heck is going on.

And as he does, the terrorists in the crowd throw off their coats and bags. Revealing rifles, SMGs and LMGS. RPG launchers appear out of a few instrument cases. Grenade belts slung from shoulders and tied around waists. Yells of praise to various "prophets" and warlords are called as the shooting begins.

Victor narrows his eyes, the full switch from fun to business coming over him, going from the mentality of Victor, to the mentality of Brutal. Switching gears. Victor isn't about to let these people kill innocents, there are children here, the elderly. He spares Natalie a look, he's positive she knows what he's going to do. He breaks into a run, ten huge strides gets him to a fantastic speed. A blur almost, taking him to the first knot of assailants who have begun to attack

They barely have time to turn to see what's coming at them...