The Silent Man's Whisper [ninjago]

09 | intimidated

Click...Clack...Click...Clack...

"Ma'am, you can't just go in," a guard told the older woman, standing in front of her and denying her access to Krypterium. "You will need to undergo the security protocol like anyone else."

"Oh, shucks! Well, kind gentleman, I only need to say happy birthday to my grandson. He is turning twenty-seven years old today. But we don't say 'old' in our household, we say 'young'!"

The guard looked down at the woman and studied her. Her hair was curly and as white as snow. Her posture was as crooked as a banana. Her eyes were hidden by a pair of dark glasses. A walking stick was in her left hand that she used to steady herself and not topple over.

"And what is your grandson's name?"

"Uh, Brandon... Brandon Brandonson."

Rolling his eyes, the guard grabbed the woman's hair and pulled at it. He expected to rip off a wig.

So one couldn't understand the surprise he felt when a few strands were ripped off instead of a bundle of hair. The woman screamed in agony as she fell to the floor and clutched her head.

With wide eyes, the guard bent down and pulled off her sunglasses to reveal green eyes instead of brown ones, like he had expected.

"Oh lord," he whispered, immediately crouching down to aid the woman he injured. "I'm so sorry, ma'am! I thought you were wearing a disguise!"

A few other guards quickly came to the woman's rescue and escorted her inside and right to the medical center of Krypterium.

"What was that, man?" a colleague of his came to stand next to him. They were close friends.

"I don't know," the guard answered, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "I just thought she was-"

"Howdy, fellas!"

The two guards looked at the person standing in front of them. They were wearing cowboy boots, a cowboy hat, a brown leather jacket and dark blue jeans. A toothpick was sticking out of their mouth and above their upper lip was a large mustache.

A large mustache that looked like it was glued on.

The guards narrowed their eyes at the same time, thinking the same thing. "Name," one of them ordered.

"Randy Britches."

"Britches?"

"Britches."

"Okay, Miss Smith," the friend of the first guard said, sighing. "Please just give up. You are not allowed to get in."

"Smith?" the person's southern accent rang out. "I ain't no Smith."

The guard gripped the man's mustache and pulled on it. "You are not allowed to-"

"Ow!"

The guard immediately let go of the mustache and watched as tears gathered in his eyes. His hand rubbed his upper lip as he glared at the guards glossily. "What the hell, bruh? What kind of cop are you?!"

"But-but that looks so fake!" the guard exclaimed.

"Now you know how I felt pulling that lady's hair," the other guard said, sighing. "We are sorry, sir."

"You boys better be!" the man yelled. "I will sue your butts to oblivion, just you wait!" With that, the man angrily walked away from the scene, looking back every now and then to scowl at the guards.

"When's our break?" the two guards asked the other at the same time before chuckling.

The moment another person stepped in front of them, they became serious again.