As I stare into the barrel of the gun, only one thought goes through my mind. I hope this guy’s a talker.
Well, there’s only one way to find out.
“You shouldn’t have taken this job, Johnny Stout,” I say.
If my knowing his real name takes him by surprise, he doesn’t show it. A true professional, Johnny. “And why is that?”
“Because one of us dies here today.”
He grins. “That’s the idea.”
“And then I go and have lunch.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Those are the dumbest last words I’ve ever heard, Professor. Care to try again?”
I am ready now. “How about this then. Your gun won’t fire.”
He pulls the trigger, but I completed my binding spell three seconds ago. His gun is useless; the only thing he gets is an empty click.
Without missing a beat, he reaches for the knife at his belt.
A true professional, Johnny. But I’m faster. I land a jab to his throat and he staggers backwards, choking. I rush in, sweep his legs from under him, and finish him with a burst of Power to the heart.
You may wonder why I didn’t start with that. Then again, you’ve never had a loaded gun pointed at your face. The blasted thing might have gone off.
I step over Johnny’s body, collect my coat and umbrella, and walk out the door, not bothering to look behind. First, I will have lunch; then the bastards who hired Johnny will share his fate.
You see, I am not like other men.