“So you do work for the company?”
Enola edged at this question, then figured that if she was to knock him out, he wouldn't remember their conversation or he would think it was a dream, either way, he wouldn't speak of it again and it was nice to talk to someone that didn't go running after the first or second word. “Yes, I do,” said Enola, watching his every movement as his hand slowly, instinctively, and unfortunately reached for his gun on his waist belt.
“What do they make you do?” He gasped softly, his voice no louder than a whisper.
“Stuff that involve my abilities.” Enola told him, watching his hand instead of his eyes.
“What abilities do you have?” He asked her, his curiosity picking itself up as his fear almost seemed to go down, but it would rise again when she answered his next question, that is if she chose to.
“Do you really want to know?” She asked, edging closer with an almost menacing theme to her movements.
Three things happened within a matter of heartbeats. First, the guard noticed her closeness at this moment. Second, and as a result, he pulled his gun out of his belt pocket for the gun. And third, Enola raised her boot, ready to kick him in the next heartbeat.
It was a race to see who was faster, his reflexes or her leg, and unfortunately, Enola lost by a split second.
The gun fired and the bullet really was fast and the last thought that went through Enola’s mind before the bullet hit her forehead was: Damn, that gun actually is fast. So much for the ads critics! The next moment, the bullet went through her forehead and she fell back to the floor, dead.
It was only half of a minute later when Enola’s eyes opened wide and she gasped for air before getting to her feet to look the guard in the eye with anger.