'...Heat?' James said with a puzzled look on his face. Bane erupted with rage, slamming him against the varnished maple wall, gripping his shirt with ferocious tenacity.
'DON'T, play dumb with me this time, James. Are. You. Armed?' James gulped as the man he called his best friend, began to search him, rather uncomfortably.

It would have been an understatement to say that Victor Bane had been acting
weirdly over the past few months. He'd been ceaselessly and obsessively
gathering information on his guests, which accumulated in stacks and stacks of
papers in his office. He rarely answered the phone when James rang. And now
this. James was uncertain that he knew fully what Bane was planning. Suddenly, James felt Bane's hand clench tightly around his jacket pocket.


There they all were, milling about in the parking space outside the manor.
Uncertainty preventing the guests from crossing through the gate, and up the
massive stone steps towards where Desmond was standing, his back upright in a
classic butleresque pose. Turning his gaze upward, towards the black, starless
sky, Desmond sniffed, for the umpteenth time. It was to rain soon, and the
guests would have no way to escape their fate.
They would flock, like lambs to the slaughter.


'Tell me James, WHAT DO YOU CALL THIS???' James sighed, looking down at the
varnished floor.
'It's a gun, Vic.'
'Why did you think you needed such a thing?!?!?' Victor Bane waved it in
James's face like dirty laundry, the tiny 5-shot revolver pinched between two
of his giant fingers.
'You know I carry this with me all the time. In fact, I was just about to give
it to you.' Victor stumbled backward, putting the gun in his $2000 suit pocket.
He exhaled, massaging his temples.
'Okay... get outta my face.' James made his way past him, breaking into a
jog. As he ran, his lips slowly crept into a smile, as he fingered the cold steel
concealed inside his wool sock.

The End

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