You have your guns at the ready, hanging loose in shoulder holsters under your bullet-proof coat. The shock grenades you wear on your belt, all painted in bright colors to look like tacky idiot fashion. People don't think they are real; even normally suspicious cops just laugh at you passing by.
Fools.
The first man you kill is a midget with the yellow ball cap. You've been seeing him everywhere you go. After the week of this constant tailing, disturbing your relaxing nature trail walks, you do a sneak-around, flank the little fucker, and put two bullets in his head. Pop, POP. Too easy. A search of the body discovers little more than a small tin of syringes and three cell phones. No ID. A brand new empty wallet in his little pants.
You don't see anyone following you after that. They've gotten cautious; they know you're serious.
You can't wait to get on that plane for debriefing. You're not safe here.