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Writer's Sanctum Publishing

Aylesbury, Buckinghamshire

United Kingdom


Buzzer felt the electricity in the air…


Buzzer took a small step back as all ten men swung up their half-chargers and aimed at him.

Willis stood relaxed and smiled. “Would you please come with me, sir?”

“I’m sorry, no.”

Willis blinked in reaction to the blunt refusal. “I think that you are far too outnumbered to play these kinds of games, policeman...” Willis drawled the last word as the ten men surrounding Buzzer snickered.

Buzzer unholstered his blaster and brought it up to bear on Willis’ head. The move had been so quick that most of the security guards were still snickering among themselves before they realized the sudden change in events. Willis stared wide-eyed at the small black hole of the blaster’s muzzle in front of his face.

Buzzer felt the electricity in the air. Willis was frozen with fear, his eyes totally fixed on the weapon in his face. The room was silent, the only sound was the heavy breathing coming from Willis. “Put down your Goddamn guns already!” Willis snarled, eyes unmoving.

Eight of the guards responded to this order immediately by lowering their weapons, the other two looked skeptical. Willis glared at them and snarled. “Do it now!”

“Negative, Mr. Willis,” one of the guards rasped as his finger began to tighten on the trigger of his powerful weapon. “This man is outnumbered and outgunned and he is mine.”

The huge blast from the half-charger rocked the wall on the other side of the room. Buzzer came out of his dive and crouched behind one corner of the reception desk. He had fired twice while maneuvering and saw two men go down hard in a spray of blood and gore, one of them being the man who had fired first.

Buzzer was up and running now. Although he was well aware that the entire complex would soon be swarming with well armed security guards, the men on his tail were his most pressing problem. He had to move quickly or he would surely be pinned down somewhere in this room. Buzzer did not intend to allow that to happen. Poorly aimed fire followed him in his sprint down a side corridor. He swung around on the run, fired several rounds from his blaster and watched another man fall dead as several others who were beginning to pursue dove, once again, to the carpeted floor.

Buzzer turned a corner and fired again, hitting another target squarely in the chest from a distance of about ten meters. The body immediately hit the carpet and tripped up another who was close behind. Buzzer took advantage of this man’s sprawl in the hallway and put one in the top of his head, the body spasmed jerkily as blood washed into the carpet. He raced down a connecting corridor and found himself surrounded on two sides by lift terminals, with a closed door straight ahead. It was a dead end...