Trapped In Me

___Chapter 8___

That song though...
Should be more popular.

"Give me one good reason as to why I shouldn't kill the both of you this instant."

One? Heck, I could give hundreds.

First, because it would be a shame for the world to lose a beauty such as me.

Seconds, killing is wrong. And quite rude as well.

Third-

"Sir," Walter answered, not daring to look him up in the eye. "We're sorry. We lost our way and confusion-"

"One thirty-two, I'd suggest you to keep you excuses to your measly self," the boss cut him off. "How dare you two interrupt my meeting and then dare to talk back?"

How the fuck did we talk back? He asked us a question, we tried to answer it.

Countless thoughts and insults (some pretty uncouth ones) were swimming through my head, but none of them ever found their way to my mouth. I just couldn't take the risk to say anything in front of the man who was almost twice the size of me and could dice me into pieces with a flick of his hand.

Speaking somehow seemed unwise. Walter, being Walter, didn't seem to realize that.

"You both idiots are in the wrong position and are wasting my time," the boss growled. "You deserve no mercy."

"I'm-we're very sorry, sir," Walter spoke. "It was all just a simple mistake."

And that was the very line that almost got us beheaded.

"Just a mistake?" The boss roared. "Just? Do you still not realize the seriousness of the crime you've committed?"

I don't know how his words affected Walter, but the results showed it all for his next words were just plain eye-opening.

"I believe not," he snapped. "Crime, I'm sure, is a pretty big word for this simple human error."

The boss's eye, along with mine, widened in horror. What was this boy thinking talking to the head of the country like this?

Silence took over the hall. No one dared to say a word. However, it all lasted for merely a few seconds before the boss exploded.

"You little twat," he muttered. "Idiot. Asshole. Bastard. Oh, I'll punish you well."

Next, he produced a gun from his back pocket and aimed it right at Walter's head. His fingers circled over the trigger ever so lightly, as if he were touching a newborn child.

Walter's eyes widened and stared right at the gun. He looked like he wanted to say something but was unable to.

And it was not just any gun, but the ones that are produced exclusively at Python only for its members.

Now, I don't know the technical part of how that gun is superior to others, but I've seen it before, used it too. All I know is that it certainly kills a lot faster.

Everyone let out a small gasp. They knew he'd be pissed and probably punish him, but immediate death? No.

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."