It was unusual for Z to be surprised. For a moment, he thought perhaps he had carelessly forgotten an important detail. The thought quickly left, however, as he assured himself he never misstepped and was always right.
"Put down your gun, Robertz. You think I couldn't see you? You think I don't know what you're planning to do? All this time I had thought you were more perceptive than that. It seems you're just as clumsy as those fools you're trying to protect," uttered Nefarious D. Scott as he grabbed the gun from Z and tossed it across the room.
"Scott, I'm not going to discuss this with you. Shut down your operations before I do and destroy you in the process," replied Z.
"Well, let's see if your body is a strong as your self-confidence. Take care of him boys. I've got fieldhouses to blow up." Scott cackled as he slipped out of the building. Several white and blue uniformed henchman rushed from doors with knives and baseball bats.
Preparing for a melee with the henchman, Z spotted his Desert Eagle across the room. Running and sliding across the well waxed floor, he grabbed his gun and unloaded his clip at the oncoming men. They fell helplessly before reaching him.
"Looks like it's going to be another easy year at conference," Z spoke to himself.
Without further hesitation, Z ran out the door and across the compound's yard. He could see Scott in the distance. He could tell Nefarious was only a few hundred meters ahead. The blood rushed to his veins. His fist clenched as began his running toward him in an all out sprint. The whoosh of passing trees was deafening like the sound of spinning helicopter blades. As Z closed in, he received a text message from headquarters reading: GOLDEN EAGLES CLOSING IN ON MAYFIELD. GET TO LOCATION IMMEDIATELY. SCOTT IS TRAP. DO NOT ENGAGE. DO NOT ENGAGE.
Frustrated by his orders, Z grumbled and raced back to his vehicle and sprayed gravel as he sped off toward Mayfield.
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