Chapter Two

The next week passed by uneventfully. I had a few liaisons with some of my California-based business partners like Nate, became better acquainted with the local nightlife, and had a few slightly more private “liaisons” with some lucky girls.

It was times like this that really made me love my job. Not that my job was just one big vacation: I knew it was going to come to an end soon. In a few days it'd be back to New York and back to mountains of work for me. I still had the party left to look forward to though, and I was prepared to live it up for all it was worth.

I was curious about what the boss was going to say to me at the party – if he was even planning to say anything to me at all. Whatever it was, it'd almost certainly be good. The Nielsen ratings for the show's reboot had come back and they were very promising.

As I approached the entrance of the Los Angeles headquarters of Humanity Incorporated, I made a mental note to bring that up if I came across Nate.

The lobby inside the building was filled to the brim with security - tough-as-nails hessian veterans. No doubt they wanted to be extra careful what with the boss being there. I flashed my I.D. to the guards and was quickly passed through the checkpoint. I walked on down the hall and into the auditorium. I entered the room and panicked a little when I noticed that there was nobody there. It was definitely the right room: there were tables and drinks all set up and balloons teeming on the ceiling. It almost seemed as if everyone had just gotten up and left all at once. I had arrived fashionably late, as always, but I was quite sure I hadn't arrived that late.

I had to know what was going on. I did a quick three-sixty, looking for someone I could ask. In the corner of the room, about to walk out a door, I saw someone dressed in dark clothes.

“Hey!” I said.

The person froze.

“Yeah, you.”

I walked closer and got a better look at the person. It was a blonde girl dressed in black leather. Not exactly the most obvious choice for this kind of party, but hey, I wasn't going to complain.

“Can you tell me-”

She turned and looked me in the eyes.

I couldn't help myself from stopping in mid-sentence. I know this'll sound corny, but this was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen in my life.

Her eyes were a fierce, piercing green. Her hair was like poofy, feathered silk. Her features were perfect, like a china doll or something... and her ass was fabulous.

“Yes?” she asked, an oddly blank expression on her face.

Her voice was like a soft breeze.

I faked a cough and tried to compose myself.

“Ahem, sorry. Can you please tell me where everyone is?”

For a second she seemed almost relieved.

“They're all in the next auditorium over. There's some sort of presentation going on.” She paused for a moment. “You should probably go now before you miss any more of it” she added.

“You're not going?” I asked, somewhat disappointed.

Her eyes widened a bit. “No.”

She turned and began to walk away.

A crazy thought came to me. I knew it would make me seem desperate, but I figured this would be the only chance I got anyways, so I gave it a shot.

“Hey, do you want to get coffee some time?”

I immediately regretted saying this.

She turned again. She looked puzzled.

“Coffee?”

“Yeah...” There was a moment of awkward silence. “I know a place called Jakarta... Best coffee in West Hollywood” I said, nervousness beginning to tinge my voice.

A smile slowly crept across her lips. “We don't even know each others names.”

“I'm Sam. And you?”

She laughed sweetly.

“I'm sorry, Sam, but I really do have to go.”

She turned again and left the room.

I waited until I was sure she was gone and then slapped myself in the face. I hadn't let myself go like that in a while and I wasn't going to let my transgression go unpunished. I pride myself on my ability to keep my cool, but I'd really lost it there.

So what if she was the most gorgeous woman I'd ever laid eyes on? I should be able to handle that.

I made my way back out into the hallway and into the next auditorium over.

A large crowd was seated before a stage with an empty podium on it, behind which, a large video was being projected onto the wall. It was a clip from House of Cards.

Regina looked cross and had her hands on her hips.

“Joe, are you running around the house in your birthday suit again? Does my living room look like a nudist colony to you?”

Joe the hessian looked up at her from reading a newspaper, the newspaper tastefully covering his junk.

“Under the law of Djin, no importance is placed upon clothing” he said, matter-of-factually.

“Well mister, you're under the law of the housewife now, so put on some pants!”

The crowd burst into laughter. The clip ended and amidst a storm of clapping, a man stepped onto the stage from the side. It was my boss. It was James Monroe, C.E.O.

He was odd looking guy - hard to describe. He had wide eyes and thin lips. His cheeks kind of sank in a bit, giving his face the look of an upside-down triangle. Nonetheless, there was something about his face that conveyed a sense of elegance. He had dark brown hair swept back with gel and he was wearing a suit that made Floyd's look modest. He walked up to the podium.

“Wonderful. Glorious” said Monroe into the microphone while clapping.

His accent immediately gave away that he hailed from my hometown, New York. I'd say Brooklyn, to be specific.

“It's humour like this that's going to bring both our species together.”

Monroe paused for a moment to let the clapping subside and then continued.

“The success of House of Cards is encouraging. So encouraging, in fact, that I'd like to reveal something new to you all today. House of Cards is just one of the first of a line of services and products that Humanity Incorporated will be producing in order to foster better relations between humans and hessians. It is my hope that some day, people of both our species can sit back and enjoy a good T.V. show together in harmony. I won't be making any specific announcements at the moment, but I will say that we're going to have our best men working on it.”

This was news to me. I was simultaneously filled with hope that this was the opportunity that Floyd was talking about and worry about the fact that no one had mentioned this new program to me yet.

“Thank you, loyal employees, investors, and members of the press. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

With that, the crowd began filing out of the auditorium and into the hallway, back to the refreshments.

I, myself, felt like I could go for a bit of alcohol, so I followed closely.

Out of nowhere, I suddenly found my path blocked by a hessian – Majiiz.

“Sam O'Sullivan” he said in a thick, exotic accent, calmly striding towards me.

His eyes were locked onto me like a hawk focused on a mouse. I consider myself a pretty progressive guy, but it's hard not to feel a bit intimidated when approached by a hessian. The animal part of your brain screams at you to go run and hide in a hole. I shoved all that into the back of my mind and tried to act normal.

“I want to thank you for obtaining this role for me.”

Majiiz had been my first choice for the role of Joe. Not necessarily because he was a great actor, but because he could act, period (hessians don't generally make for good thespians); the fact that he was actually good at it and could even put on a convincing American accent was just icing on the cake.

“It was nothing” I said, waving my arm dismissively.

Actually, it was something. Before I got him his job as an actor, Majiiz had been a bodyguard for Monroe himself. The fact that Monroe actually signed off on having one of his top bodyguards leave his side to pursue a frivolous acting career was pretty astounding in my books. Though, come to think of it, it makes a lot more sense knowing that Monroe had been planning this new media campaign the whole time.

“It was all that talent of yours that really made this happen.”

“Humans are finally going to respect me as an actor.”

“Don't get too ahead of yourself there, partner” I said, patting him on the leg and walking away.

I spotted the bar and made my way on over. I wasn't particularly surprised when I found Nate there.

“Nate! Good to see you!”

Nate turned and glared at me.

“Come on, Nate - do I even need to say anything?”

Nate took a very angry sip from his vodka tonic.

“Oh of course I do! Because, you see... I told you so, Nate.”

Nate loudly clanked his glass onto the table.

“So you managed to get the plebeian masses to flock to your drivel. So what? I'll be having the last laugh when the critics tear your garbage to pieces, shithead.”

Suddenly, I heard a voice come from behind me.

“Sammy! Who's your little buddy?”

I turned. It was Floyd.

“Floyd, meet Nate O'Neil, my... er, associate.”

“I'm the director, actually” said Nate, in an annoyed tone.

Floyd leaned in and and very loudly whispered into my ear “so is this is the guy you screwed over?”

Nate's eyes narrowed.

“No, actually. This is the guy who I consulted with.”

Floyd burst into laughter and pointed at me.

“Right! That's a good one!”

Nate let out a low growling type sound.

“You might want to ease up on the drinks there, partner” chuckled Floyd.

Nate got up stiffly and walked away.

I turned to face Floyd.

“What the hell was that?”

“I was having a little fun with the guy. What's the problem?”

“The problem is that I have to deal with that now” I said, waving my arm in the direction of Nate, who was engaged in a vigorous battle with his wallet and shouting obscenities.

“Big deal. I heard what you were saying to him when I got here.”

“Well I... You are...”

I couldn't think of a defence.

“Okay, point made.”

Floyd smirked.

“He's my guy though. You go find your own.”

“Perhaps I shall, Sam. Perhaps I shall... using my new cellular telephone!”

Floyd dramatically drew a plastic brick out of his suit pocket.

“Your what?”

“Oh, haven't you heard, Sammy? It's only the latest communications technology innovation.”

“What, are you planning on building a radio station with that thing?” I asked sarcastically

“I can see why someone not in the know wouldn't bother trying to make a serious guess about how it works. For your information, this device connects with a wireless radio network in order to pass calls through.”

This piqued my curiosity.

“What network? If this thing's so cutting edge, then how is there a network for it?”

“Humanity Inc. has transmission towers built throughout the country” said Floyd without skipping a beat.

“Since when?”

“Since the seventies. You didn't think they were just repairing the highways, did you? They were future-proofing the country's infrastructure, Sammy.”

“Makes sense, I guess. How'd you get yourself one of the things?”

“Oh, I've got my connections.”

“Alright, I'm somewhat impressed.”

“That's all I wanted to hear. So, did you get what the boss said up there?”

“Yeah. If this involves me, then why haven't I heard about this before?”

“I don't know...-” Floyd's eyes suddenly focused on something behind me “-but I think we're about to find out.”

I turned.

A man in a suit, escorted by a hessian guard, was walking in my direction.

“Sam O'Sullivan?” he asked.

“That's me.”

“Mr. Monroe would like to have a chat with you. Would you please come with me?”

“Of course.”

I took a step towards the man.

“Wait. Sammy, take this.”

Floyd handed me his cellphone.

“Call me at my condo after you hear what he has to say. I've got some, ahem, business that I have to attend to right now” said Floyd, gazing in the direction of a young redhead. Floyd turned to face me again. “If you get so much as a scratch on it though, I will crush you.”

“I'll try to keep it safe, Floyd. No guarantee it won't tear through my coat pocket though.”

I turned and fell into line beside the man. As he led me out of the room, I spun and gave a thumbs up to Floyd, but he was already too busy flirting to notice.

The man led me through a hallway to another room – some sort of lounge. As I entered the room, the door was closed behind me. I'd entered the private part of the party.

I took a look around. I could see why they'd want to keep this part of the party away from the press – most of the suits in here were doing cocaine and there was a stripper dancing on a table. All in all, it looked like my kind of party.

The man led me to a table in the corner of the room. Sitting there, next to his bundled-up coat, was James Monroe.

“Well well... Sam O'Sullivan. How long has it been since you left my office?”

Monroe wasn't just the C.E.O. of Humanity Inc. - he was also my former mentor. He taught me everything I know.

“Five years, give or take.”

“And in those five years you've made quite a name for yourself - a far cry from the incompetent protegé I remember.”

“Well, I-”

“Enough small talk. I imagine you probably already know why I asked for you.”

I said nothing.

“There's no need for modesty, O'Sullivan. You and I both know that you're the best damn marketer we've got.”

That gave me a boost of confidence.

“So then you want me to head the campaign?”

“Head the campaign?” Monroe laughed.“Look who's getting too big for his britches!”

My hopes immediately plummeted.

“No. I want you doing what you do best, O'Sullivan – toiling in the back while the good looking people take all the credit.”

“You always were a straight-talker, Monroe.”

Monroe smirked.

“I can afford to be.”

I took a seat across from Monroe.

“So what exactly is this campaign supposed to accomplish?”

“Why, to foster better relations between species, of course.”

“What is it about really?”

“O'Sullivan, you're quick to jump to conclusions – there is something more to this, however. This campaign isn't meant for humans.”

“You mean-”

“That's right. I want you to make me the first ever marketing campaign aimed at hessians.”

“Hessians? What do you even want to sell them?”

“Humanity.”

“What?”

“Are you aware, O'Sullivan, that hessians are the largest unassimilated minority in America?”

“Somewhat. What does it matter though? We've got the hessians in our pocket – nobody else will touch them.”

“I'm not worried about anyone else snatching them up – I'm worried about them leaving us. I don't suppose you've heard about the anti-human sentiments that have been running through hessian communities lately?”

“No.”

“Good. Then my people can keep their jobs for another day.”

“So then you're afraid of us losing another war with the hessians?”

“Not at all. Mankind's loss in the first war was a fluke - whatever advantage the hessians once had is gone. A war with the hessians would be a guaranteed win for our species. No - the problem is that without the hessians, Humanity Inc. loses its technological advantage, most of its manpower, and the trust and respect of the entire world.”

“So, in order to avoid that scenario, you want me to somehow turn these anti-human sentiments around and have the hessians lining up to apply for U.S. citizenship?”

“Essentially, yes.”

“You want me to delve into the collective psyche of an alien species – the conquerors of man – and not only understand it, but twist it into becoming more human?”

“If that's what it takes.”

I shrugged.

“I can do that.”

Suddenly, Monroe's coat shifted in its seat.

I blinked.

“Did your coat just move?”

Monroe swatted his coat. A high pitched moan came from it.

“Don't mind him. That's just my nephew.”

I couldn't help but laugh.

“You're telling me you brought your nephew with you to a party with strippers?”

“Why do you think he's under the coat? What kind of uncle do you think I am?”

“Clearly, the best. Why bring him here in the first place?”

“He's the reason I'm in California. I'd be a terrible uncle if I didn't spend time with him.”

“You mean you're not here-”

“For the campaign?” Monroe chuckled. “That was just a case of providence. I wouldn't be here in-person if I had to go out of my way for it.”

“I should have figured.”

“So who put that idea into your head? Let me guess: Floyd Finnegan.”

Monroe could tell by the expression on my face that he was right.

“Of course. How's the little shit doing?”

“Well enough.”

“You can tell him that he's in. I'm sure you could make some use of an assistant.”

“You never cease to amaze me, Monroe.” I stood up from the table. “It's good to be back in business with you.”

“Save the sentimental bullshit for until you've actually done something for me, O'Sullivan.” Monroe smiled and and reached his hand out to me.

I grasped Monroe's hand from across the table and we shook.

Back in the day, Monroe always told me that one of the keys to success in any business venture was having a good handshake - not too firm, not too loose. Maybe it was a sign, then, that this campaign wasn't going to end well when suddenly an explosion rocked the building and Monroe's grip on my hand tightened to a crushing vise.

The lights flickered and cloud of dust scattered from the ceiling. Everyone in the room was either frozen in shock or sprawled on the floor. The place had become eerily quiet save for the suddenly out-of-place music that was still playing.

Monroe paused for a few seconds, still gripping my hand, his eyes rapidly darting left and right, as if he were reading an invisible book. After a moment, he let go and brushed past me, ignoring me completely.

“Zaniit! Baanshen!” he shouted, breaking the silence.

Two tough-looking hessian guards sprinted over to him from across the room.

“Baanshen, I want your squad to protect this room and everyone in it with your lives. If anyone – anyone – enters in here without my word, you will tear them limb from limb.”

“It will be my honour” growled one of the hessians.

Gunfire began outside the room and was quickly followed by screams.

“Zaniit. You're coming with me.”

Zaniit raised his alien rifle and shouted something incomprehensible in the rhythmic hessian language. A half-dozen hessians that had been guarding various points throughout the room all convened at his location.

“Monroe! What are you doing?” I shouted.

Monroe looked back at me with a quizzical expression.

I was a bit confused myself. “Do I really need to explain to you that they – whoever they are – are out there?”

“Shit, O'Sullivan. What is this, your first terrorist attack? They expect me to stay in here. I can guarantee you that they're going to be striking here soon.”

“What? And you're leaving us here?”

“Yes.”

Another explosion went off somewhere else in the building. I threw my arms up in protest.

“You'll be fine. Baanshen's one of the best.”

A hessian's dying screams echoed down the hallway.

“I'm somehow still not comforted.”

“Would I really leave my protegé and my nephew to die at the hands of terrorists?”

I crossed my arms.

Monroe smiled slyly. “Okay then: would I really go to all the effort of starting a new campaign only to let my manager and all the business assets he brings to the table get assassinated before it even fucking takes off?”

I uncrossed my arms. “Now I believe you.”

“Good.”

Monroe walked past me and over to his still coat-covered nephew. He laid his hand on him and whispered something I could just barely make out.

“Whatever happens, stay under the coat. Don't move. I will come back for you.”

I'd never heard Monroe talk like that before. This kid must've meant a lot to him.

Monroe got up and nodded to Zaniit. Zaniit, followed closely by his squad, rushed over to door to the hallway and peeked around the corner. He waited for a second before shouting something harsh in hessian. His team burst out the door firing. Gradually, they began to move forward and Monroe calmly followed behind. Baanshen closed and locked the door behind him.

I leaned over to the still coat-covered kid.

“Don't you worry, kid. Your uncle is the most powerful man in America. If anyone can get us out of this, it's him.”

The kid said nothing. Must've been scared out of his puny mind.

Come to think of it, so was I. I'd heard about terrorists going after Humanity Inc. before, but I'd never been involved, myself. It seemed so far removed before – just another news cycle to be digested and forgotten. This though – this was real. I felt like I had to do something, but I knew there was nothing I really could do. Powerlessness isn't really my thing, so I crawled underneath the table. I figured I'd be able to consolidate my power better from under there.

A loud thud came from the door. Baanshen took cover behind a flipped table and readied his weapon. Another thud came from the door, this one louder.

Oh shit.

With a crash, the door flew open and Baanshen opened fire. His laser-fire scorched the door frame and melted the door from its hinges. After a few seconds, Baanshen stopped firing. What was left of the door clattered to the floor. There was no sign of anyone.

Baanshen screamed what was no doubt a well worded message of indignation at his unseen opponents. Seemingly in answer, a small canister flew in through the burning door frame. Baanshen ducked behind the table, but the canister didn't explode. A gas began spewing from the canister. After a few seconds, it was thick enough to obscure the door. Baanshen started firing again. After a few more seconds, the gas enveloped Baanshen. Baanshen roared in defiance. A single gunshot rang out and Baanshen's laserfire suddenly stopped.

Two black-clad figures stepped out of the haze.

It looked like a man dressed in leather and-

“You have got to be kidding me.” I whispered to myself, in disbelief.

There she was, the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen in my life, an assault rifle slung over her shoulder, and hessian blood spattered across her face.

Suddenly her behaviour before made a lot more sense. Of course she didn't agree to go out with me – no doubt she would've, but she was too busy being a terrorist.

“Alright, which one of you fuckers is James Monroe?” she shouted. This time, her voice was less like a soft breeze and more like a roaring hurricane.

Nobody said anything.

The man next to her step forward and loudly blasted his rifle into the air. “Answer the lady when she asks you a question!”

A suited man cautiously stepped forward. “P-please, I'll tell you where he went if you just let us go.”

She hesitated for a moment and looked at her partner, who shrugged at her. “Fine” she said, turning back to face the man.

The man had an expression of disbelief on his face. I couldn't really believe it either – terrorists aren't known for their compassion, after all.

“He left a few minutes ago... Out the door you just came in. He knew you'd be coming.”

“Shit.”

The suited man waited a moment.

“C-can I go?”

“Yeah. Get out of my sight.” She said, turning to talk with her partner.

The man was frozen in relief for a moment. He came to after a second though, and quickly ran out the door. He was soon followed by everyone else. I was about to go too, when I remembered the kid.

I crawled over to the coat and tugged on it. “Hey kid. It's time to go.”

There was no response. I was beginning to wonder if there even was a kid under there. For all I knew, Monroe was just messing with me.

I lifted a corner of the coat up.

Sure enough, lying there, staring at me with big round eyes was a young boy, probably about ten years old. One tiny peculiar detail that stood out to me was the fact that he was black. I thought about it for a moment.

“I guess that could make sense.” I said to no one.

Suddenly, I remembered what I was doing.

“Kid, we've got to get out of here.”

The kid just stared at me silently.

“I know you're scared, but we're free to go.”

Actually, the kid didn't look scared at all. He had a completely neutral expression on his face. Just sort of blank. Not stupid – just not invested.

“If you're not going to move, then I'll carry you.”

I started to move to pick the kid up when I heard a loud slam from the other side of the room. I quickly turned my head. Oh god – everyone else was gone. The terrorists had barricaded the door with a table. I turned back to the kid.

“Change of plans. Think you can stay quiet and motionless a bit longer?”

The kid blinked.

“I'll take that as a yes.”

I dropped the coat corner and focused my attention on the terrorists.

“Shit, Allison: he knew we were coming!” shouted the male terrorist.

So that was her name: Allison. I'd always liked the sound of that name.

“I know, I know!”

“We're going to have to go back to New Orleans to regroup. God only knows if anyone else is even going to be able to make it out of here alive.”

So New Orleans was their base of operations? I figured I should hold onto that little nugget of information.

“We all knew what we were getting into, Shaun.”

Shaun buried his head in his hands. “I know. I just don't understand how they could have seen us coming, unless...” Shaun looked up at Allison.

“What?”

“Did you talk with anyone?”

“Did I talk with anyone?” repeated Allison with a tinge of anger in her voice.

“When you were scouting this building out. Did you talk with anyone? Anyone at all?”

“No! Nobody!”

Allison paused for a moment and looked away from Shaun.

“Except...”

Allison happened to turn in my direction.

“You!”

The blood drained from my face.

Allison raised her rifle and quickly stormed over to my hiding spot.

I laughed nervously as she approached. “Oh hi there. I was just on my way out and-”

“Save it, you motherfucker!” she said, grabbing me by my shirt and wrenching me out from under the table.

She stomped on my chest with her boot and aimed her rifle at my face.

“I swear I didn't know!” I said, somewhat worriedly.

“You're lying!”

“No really. I just thought you were some lost guest!”

She rolled her eyes.

“Tell me the truth or I'll put a bullet square between your eyes.”

My eyes widened a bit.

“I can prove it! I can prove it!”

I started quickly looking around the room.

“There's got to be something!” I shouted to no one in particular. “Somewhere in this room!”

My gaze fell on the kid and lingered for a moment before I quickly looked away. Too late though. Shaun walked over to Monroe's coat.

“Nope, not under there. Definitely not under there!”

Shaun ignored me and continued over to the coat. He loomed over it and slowly peeled it off.

A smile began to form on his lips.

“Well, would you look at what we've got here” said Shaun, with contained glee. “I think the bastard might actually be telling the truth, Ali.”

Allison looked in Shaun's direction, but kept her gun pointed right at my head.

Allison was stunned silent for a moment.

“There's no way in hell that Monroe would have left him here if this was a set up” she said.

Shaun dramatically tossed the coat aside.

“We've got to take him back with us! Can you imagine what we could do with him as a hosta-”

Shaun was stopped mid-sentence by a laser beam silently piercing through his head, instantly melting his eyes and brain out through his eye sockets.

“Shaun!” shouted Allison, futilely.

A laser sight quickly began making it's way over from Shaun's corpse over to Allison, who dived for cover before it could be trained on her.

I couldn't see who was shooting at them. I guess Monroe must have sent Zaniit's team back to help Baanshen after he escaped.

Allison crawled over to the table that I'd been hiding under and pulled it over. After it came to a rest, she rolled behind it. A laser beam promptly carved the table in half.

“I think you're gonna' wanna' take a new approach, darling.” I said sarcastically.

She turned and looked at me with an expression that could burn through a glacier.

“Or your way is fine too.”

Allison pulled something from her belt. She tossed it over the now burning table. Another gas canister?

The floor shook violently as a deafening explosion destroyed the other half of the room, tossing clouds of dust into air. Guess not.

As the dust cleared, it soon became apparent that the exit was totally gone – buried under a pile of rubble.

Allison sighed and stood up. She slowly walked over to Shaun's body. A pool of boiling blood had begun to form around him. I think she said something that I couldn't make out. She lingered a moment before spinning around to face me.

“Don't think I've forgotten about you!”

I involuntarily took a step backward.

“What about me?”

“You overheard us, didn't you?”

“No.”

“You know where our headquarters is, don't you?”

“Nope.”

“And you know what that means, don't you?”

“Is there any answer I could give you right now that won't result in me getting a gun pointed at my head?”

Allison raised her rifle.

“I wasn't holding out hope.”

Allison squinted her eyes as she took aim. I closed my eyes and slowly drew what I knew would be my last breath.

So this was it. I guess I hadn't lived a terrible life. Rich parents, clean city – no war or messed up infrastructure in New York. Life full of opportunities. I got myself an education and made even more money than my parents with a job that made me feel ever so slightly above everyone else. And I'm not even going mention all the women I've had. Yeah, not a terrible life – I knew I could do better though and it killed me (pun intended).

A couple of seconds passed and I drew another breath (of course I didn't die – how else would I be narrating this?). Normally this is where I'd throw in a snarky remark, but I didn't want to mess up a good thing.

I opened one eye and looked up at Allison. She had a determined look on her face. She remained motionless for several seconds.

“I kill you and I'm just as bad as you.”

I opened my other eye.

“No. I'm not going to kill you.”

I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank you so mu-”

“I'm going to take you hostage.”

“What?”

She kicked me hard in the back.

“Get up.”

I slowly crawled to my feet.

“Seeing as you now know where our base is, I think it's only right that we invite you to be our guest there.”

I wasn't going to complain. I'd take hard labour in a militia camp to getting shot in the head any day.

“While I'm really looking forward to what'll no doubt be a top notch, five star vacation stay, I think I should point your attention to the pile of rubble blocking the only exit.”

Allison smirked.

“You didn't think we were dumb enough to come in here guns blazing with only one exit, did you?”

Allison walked over to a corner of the room and stomped her foot on a floorboard. The floorboard cracked in half, revealing a hole big enough to fit a person into.

“Son of a bitch.”

She turned to face me. “Get in.”

I shrugged. “Alright.”

As I crawled into the hole, the thought suddenly crossed my mind that the tunnel might have been weakened by all those explosions. I turned around and looked back. Allison was following right behind me, rifle-first. No turning back then.

The hole broke into a large metal air duct. I could tell by the marking on the walls of the shaft that it'd been sawn open some time before. It was clear the terrorists had been planning this for a while.

After a few minutes of crawling through darkness, I saw a dim light shining around the corner. I pulled myself around. A metal grate lay ahead, behind which, I could see a parking garage.

“The grate is loose” said Allison, behind me.

I grabbed the grate and pulled, but it wouldn't budge.

“For Christ's sake” spat Allison. She kicked me forward, painfully smashing me against the grate. The grate clattered to the ground. I slowly crawled out and rolled over onto my back. I had a horrible thudding pain in my head.

I was getting tired of this abusive treatment.

Allison crawled out of the vent and quickly leapt to

her feet, scanning the room. When she seemed satisfied, she reached into the vent and pulled out the kid.

“Look, 'Allison'. I think we've got have ourselves a chat.”

Allison ignored me and started walking towards a car, pulling the kid along behind her. “Follow.”

“I can appreciate that you've got yourself a deadly weapon - I fully recognize that you could blow my face off at any time, but we need to establish some professional decency here.”

Without so much as glancing in my direction, Allison blindly shot the floor at my feet. I covered my eyes as sparks and bits of asphalt flew into my face.

I walked forward. “See, that is the exact opposite of what I'm talking about.”

Allison opened the backseat of a car and shoved the kid inside. I took a step back and examined the car. It was a beat up 1969 Dodge Charger. A bit rusty on the edges, but still a sweet looking vehicle nonetheless.

“Nice ride.”

“Get in the back” she ordered coldly.

“Have you heard anything I just said?”

She sighed.

“Get in the back, please, you slimy idiot.”

“That's more like it!”

“Just get in the fucking car.”

I climbed in.

Vinyl upholstry, an 8-track sound system, coffee holders and metal bars dividing the driver's seat from the two back seats – this car had everything.

I closed the door behind me and it automatically locked. I was caged.

It suddenly began to sink in, just what was happening to me. A cold chill came over me, which nicely countered the burns I got from the bullet sparks a moment ago.

Allison hit the gas and quickly spun the car around before heading out the exit.

I glanced over to the seat beside me. The kid was sitting there, calmly strapping on his seat belt like this was just a casual drive. There was something wrong with that kid.

Suddenly, I heard gunshots and shouting outside the car.

I looked forward again, just in time to see Allison drive the car off a ramp and over a road block. For a moment, I felt like I was floating... that was when I smashed my skull against the ceiling.