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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Henry" data-source="post: 883845" data-attributes="member: 158">3rd June 1998 10:13 a.m.“You can come out. I promise I’m here to help.”A voice, quite reassuring and very West Coast (Californian?) in accent, greeted Richard from inside his own office. OK, first, that’s impossible, Richard decided. Second, I’m so screwed. He going to kill me.Richard’s hesitations were obviously noted by the stranger. “Richard, I’m not here to hurt you, and I’m not him. You can come out.”“OK,” Richard offered calmly, and slowly eased up from under the desk, pistol-first. Standing before him, in a quite sharp-looking smoke-grey business suit, was a thin man, Dark-haired and with muted Asian features – possibly Japanese? But at least it was not his psycho-of-the-day. The newcomer gave him a disappointing glance, as if her were expecting Richard to draw down upon him as he did, but still disappointed to see that it had actually happened.Richard wasted a quick glance back at the slim window beside his office door, then back to the stranger. “Who-”He was gone! In one second, he had vanished! Richard panicked, scanning the window to the outside, then turning back to the hallway.“It’s OK, he’s-”Richard recoiled backwards as he whirled and fired. He realized in horror he had fired straight at his nonviolent newcomer, who had suddenly reappeared.Mild shock set in when the lamp behind the man exploded, leaving him unharmed! He reacted as if Richard had sneezed on him.“Just as jumpy as ever.”Silence for several seconds. “All right, WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!??!” The man smiled, a wide smile that spoke mischief as much as sincerity. “Call me Roger. All questions can come later. For now, we need to get you out of here safely. Your assassin is still hunting YOU, and we still have some work to do to get out of here. I can help you; but you’ve gotta trust me. Deal?”Roger spread his hands open, showing no weapons or tricks of any kind. Any kind Richard could SEE, that is. The whole popping around and letting bullets pass through him was a wholly different story altogether.Richard’s mind raced as he cycled back and forth between the door and Roger. Roger offered him absolutely nothing. Just trust in him, he whom Richard knew for less than two minutes, versus death at the hands of a bunch of psycho-killers who all looked alike. His life was shattered; the only people he remotely called friends were now dead; his bosses, the damned cowards, were probably gone by now, or the scared bastards probably locked themselves in their offices and dialed 911 when the shooting started – kind of like what he himself was going to do.Alternately, lots of questions to be directed his way, about whether he knew the assassin – assassins? - and why they, he, IT, wanted him dead.Curiosity is not always good to indulge. But... Damn.He lowers his gun. “What do we do?”To Be Continued...</blockquote>

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