“Countdown to the end
And we’re headed there faster
Come on down my friend
It’s time to meet your master…”
-- ‘Meet Your Master’ by Nine Inch Nails
With a sick grin twisting upon my lips, I walked fully into the room, never letting my finger off the trigger of my gun. I heard the soft footsteps, muffled by the thick, lush carpet, as Jade followed me. Not losing my target, I grabbed one of the two spare guns out of the bag and passed it back to him. Jade took it with shaking hands and, I assumed, aimed it at the same target that I had.
A certain Mr. Wilbert Bray, the official Overseer of National Manufacturing for the Bureau. He was the perfect title, as Jade and I had decided -- he was important to have a ‘national’ title, but he was unimportant enough to not be heavily guarded.
Okay, I’ll cut to the chase -- he wasn’t guarded at all. That single goddamn door was the only thing protecting him, and we all see how well that protected him. But he would be delightful as a captive -- with the right amount of torture, he would rat out all the Government’s secrets. Well, most of them, at least. The important ones.
He seemed to wilt in his chair as I pulled out that cold pair of handcuffs from my bag. I just grinned at him as he sat, frozen and glued to his seat. A small part of me pitied him. But, then again, that part of me was small and the rest of me knew that he was feeding this ugly machine of hatred and lies. He was part of what had lead me here.
Too bad, suckers, what comes around goes around. Or whatever that saying is.