Another flash. This time, the man was much closer, and appeared to be heading toward the door. He may have seen me in the flash, though I doubt he could make out my features any more than I could see his, and instead he merely knew that the safest option was to escape from the mysterious intruder while he still had the chance.
The door opened, and light trickled into the room. I saw his face, old and wrinkled, carrying a look of surprise and anger. I rushed to the door, and chased my target down the hallway, holding the miniature bomb in my hand. He turned to look at his killer, eyes wide with the realization of my identity, before sprinting to the stairs and screaming for security.
If he hadn't looked back, he might have got away. I caught him opening