"Shit. Shit shit shit."<br/><br/>Fereldr hurriedly brushed dust off of himself that had been blasted onto him, hacking up the same dirt from his lungs. He had been very close when the charges were set off, and his areas of exposed skin were cut and bruised from flying rubble. He wiped a trickle of blood off his cheek and tried a few steps forward. Everything was still functional. Feeling alright, he took off with a moment's further hesitation down to the bank, where a human was already milling around in the debris. Fereldr lept out onto a large collapsed section of bridge, and hopped to the next concrete boulder and the next, making his way across the blocked river. He reached the other side and climbed up the retaining wall onto the street above.<br/><br/>What had went wrong? Had he been noticed? Perhaps he was too daring with his surveillance. His target had suddenly roared off across the bridge, the structure exploding in his wake. If anything, Fereldr was certain that was his target now, he had no doubts. But he had failed to prevent the destruction of the bridge, and he considered with a grimace the trouble he would be in with the Director. Still, he had kept weapons out of the hands of the rebels, so that much may save him from his boss' full wrath. As for the perpetrator, the elf hadn't yet thrown in the towel.<br/><br/>Now on the same side of the river the bomber had sped off to, Fereldr quicky strode to the nearest car and rapped on the driver's side glass. The man inside, still rattled from the blast, looked out at Fereldr blankly. "Get out. Government business." The driver opened the door slowly and stupidly, and the elf grabbed him by the arm and slung him to the ground. Keys still in the ignition, good boy.<br/><br/>Fereldr slammed the door closed and sped off down the street. He still remembered the make and color of the car, but the tricky part would be catching up to him. He soon met with traffic. Fereldr had little patience for slow and distracted drivers. He weaved in and out of lanes, eyes on a swivel so they could catch a glimpse of his target. Several miles he rode, and the traffic gave way a bit. The realization gradually grew on Fereldr: he had lost his target, he had too much of a headstart.<br/><br/>He pulled over to the shoulder and slammed his brakes with a fury, his palm pressing angrily into the horn, blaring it. He beat the horn again and again, venting his rage. He cursed violently and vehemently.<br/><br/>"You damn sewer rat, when I find you, and I<span style="font-style: italic">will</span>find you, I'll hang you by your toes and bleed you dry! I'll mount your head on my wall as a trophy!" he seethed.