Mitchell stood, gun leveled at the door. He was backed against the wall, back against the wood, staring. Frightened out of his mind, he could feel his heart thudding harder than it had in a long time. Not since the assassination, and he'd been scared, paranoid for a while, but not like this. This was a direct threat.
He stepped forward, sliding the chain loose, the sound obvious, but if Pherson tried the door then, it still wouldn't open. He stopped, breathing hard, he stepped back to the wall, and leveled the gun at the door. A normal gun. It might not kill Pherson, but it could injure him. Pherson would get in one way or the other, but he didn't need the stress of losing his door.
LOCKS, DISENGAGE.
And he stood, gun leveled at the door. He knew Pherson would hear his voice, it was distinct, unlike anything else. He held his gun level, right at the door. Waiting.
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He stepped forward, sliding the chain loose, the sound obvious, but if Pherson tried the door then, it still wouldn't open. He stopped, breathing hard, he stepped back to the wall, and leveled the gun at the door. A normal gun. It might not kill Pherson, but it could injure him. Pherson would get in one way or the other, but he didn't need the stress of losing his door.
LOCKS, DISENGAGE.
And he stood, gun leveled at the door. He knew Pherson would hear his voice, it was distinct, unlike anything else. He held his gun level, right at the door. Waiting.