Starting to look like it...

You pull your clothes together before forcefully pushing your way out of the toilet, not caring who might see you. Loath as you are to admit it, Ji-Hyun was a wasted lead - and worst-case scenario, she might be right. Forcing your way through milling bodies you make your way back to where the photoshoot is. Or was, as it turns out. Mei is nowhere to be seen, as are the directors and cameramen. All that's left are the assistants left behind on clean-up detail. Roughly you accost one of them, a spindly youth fumbling with wires.

"Where's Mei?" you growl, as he looks back at you, stunned.

"Her bodyguards took her," he stammers in surprise. "They said she was being escorted to another appointment due to a schedule change, and the security - "

You loose your grip on his collar. Fantastic, you think; you have one three-minute fling and now you have to deal with a **** scenario. Vaulting your way past shoulders and machinery to the tune of angry and scandalized shouts you locate the nearest stairwell, descending down steps at a story every few seconds. With practiced aplomb you tumble onto the floor of the basement passageway leading into the parking lot, grunting as you barrel through the door.

Before you have a moment to compose yourself you have another barrel - that of a gun pointed directly at your nose. Silhouettes surround you, dressed in security outfits, well-maintained tuxedos, and a couple of police uniforms.

You allow a second for the threatening gunman to sneer at you in Korean, swinging your hips to reward his courtesy with a disarming kick to the knuckles, sending his firearm flying as well as crushing his fingers in the process. Instantly several goons swarm you on all sides, the others hovering their hands near their weapons as they surround you like natives circling the wagons, watching to see how this brawl pans out.

It's not your first fight against overwhelming odds, but you have to admit, these mooks are highly trained and conditioned - about several notches above what you were expecting, and that's on top of a rigorous conscription regime the country put them through to boot. No sooner than you've fractured a rib or dislocated a limb, another bruiser takes the place of his fallen comrade. Meanwhile Mei is probably getting further and further away, and so is any possible lead you might have had on her, or the thumbdrive.

"I need a breakthrough," the thought appears in your head as you ram a fist into an enemy jugular. "Or they're breaking through me."