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I adjusted the mini-blasters under my jacket from being deeply concealed to being a quicker draw. They weren’t as powerful as my normal guns, but they’d burn a nice little hole right through my targets. I then put a smile on my face and strolled into the store.
The clerk, a female human, eyed me suspiciously. There were three others – two human males and one alien male – in the store pretending to shop (I’ve pretended to shop before, and I know the difference between doing it well and doing it poorly) also eying me suspiciously. The way they gestured and positioned their hands, it was obvious all four were armed. It would be hard killing these four amateurs and making it any fun, but, at least, there was a basement full of terrorists most likely armed with fully-automatics to look forward to. That could be a challenge.
I walked up to the clerk. “Hello. I am interested in purchasing a Koran.”
“We have it available in many different data formats,” she said, making it obvious she was annoyed by my presence.
“Actually, I like something more tangible. Can I get it in book form?” The three others slowly moved a bit closer to me. I kept facing the clerk in an angle such that none were in my blind spot.
“The complete integrated Koran comes in a twelve volume set. It is quite expensive.”
I chuckled. “Well, money shouldn’t be an object when you’re trying to be submissive to Allah.”
“Do you have business here?” demanded one of the men in the store, no longer pretending to be a consumer.
I gave an expression of hurt feelings. “I’m a newly converted Muslim. Why, I just started to grow a beard – I’ve made half a day’s progress so far.”
“Get out of here!” the man commanded.
“Fine. Can I at least get a gift for my nephew? Do you have a little electronic Mecha-Allah that walks around and its eyes light up?”
“We have nothing to do with that!” the clerk yelled, “Now get out!”
“Oh yeah, you’re not supposed to depict Mecha-Allah, are you?” I noticed a small red spot on the ground. “Hey! Is that pigs’ blood? Was my friend Mohammed through here spitting pigs’ blood? He’s so crazy!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the clerk asserted, “Get out of here right now.”
I looked to the door at the back of the shop. “He’s probably back there; can I go check for him?”
The four stood in front of me and blocked my way, the males to my left and the clerk to my right. “Employees only!” the clerk yelled.
“GET OUT!” one man shouted, all of them looking ready to kill – ready, but not yet trying to kill.
I acted like I had a sudden revelation. “I know what’s going on here! You have a terrorist cell down in the basement! I’m going to go out right now and telling everybody!”
One man finally went for his gun. I let him fully draw before I quickly drew my left hand gun and put a hole through his chest. That way, the gun clattered to his side as he fell and Tommy would know that I let them make the first move. Immediately following the first shot, I drew the right gun, shot the clerk through the head as my hand swept past her (she was about 1/16 as fast as she needed to be to outdraw me) and then fired one shot from each gun killing the last two, only one of whom had successfully drew his gun though he was still unable to get off a shot.
“We need some alive, Rico!” Tommy gritted through her teeth as she burst in, gun drawn.
Shooting people so that they live afterwards is not my specialty.
I was about to reach for the door to the basement, but Tommy grabbed me and threw me against the wall next to it. The door then burst open, and the terrorist was zapped by Zippy who hovered over head. There were a number of thuds as he fell down the stairs. I could then hear many voices, and something about “blowing up the building.”
“No time to wait for backup, Blondie,” I said as I leapt head-first down into the basement.
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