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training they’ve had must have focused on working as a team to quickly and effectively take down crazy people.
    And right now, it doesn’t get much crazier than this.
    I shrug. “Okay… maybe a few more people need to get hurt… But answer me this: what exactly did you mean when you said federal ?”
    One of the guards takes another step forward, raising his cattle prod. “This is a federally funded facility. Which means, when we sound the alarm, an FBI tactical unit comes running.”
    “Ah… well, I’m glad we cleared that up. So, listen—I’m going to have to ask you real nice not to press that alarm, okay? Under any circumstances.”
    The guard smiles. “Too late, asshole.”
    Shit.
    “They’re maybe three minutes out.”
    Double shit.
    I cast another glance at Ruby, whose mental act is visibly giving way to concern.
    Any advance on double shit?
    “We’ve also sent them your picture, taken from our security feed,” says another guard, probably the oldest of the five. “Turns out, they’re really interested in you , boy! They’re sending two units to make sure you play nice.”
    There it is.
    Triple shit.
    “Yeah… I don’t know what it is you’ve done, but they couldn’t believe their luck when we told ’em about you!”
    He smiles, and that pisses me off. I take a deep breath, in and out, to focus my mind. Being in this place has really thrown me off my game, but shit just got serious. If the FBI are coming, and they know I’m here, then I’m shit out of luck because the CIA won’t be far behind…
    “Gimme the keys,” I say to Ruby without taking my eyes off the guards. I reach to the side and she places them in my hand. To the guards, I say, “Right, listen up. My friend here isn’t crazy. She’s extremely dangerous, and a damn fine actress, but she ain’t crazy. She’s here to hide out because she’s actually an assassin. You boys have been doing her a favor all this time, which I’m sure she’s grateful for.”
    They shuffle uncomfortably on the spot and exchange glances of uncertainty and concern. It’s all in the eyes, you see. Even though what I’m saying sounds ridiculous, the practiced intensity in the stare I’m fixing them with makes them believe me.
    “Myself, on the other hand… well, I’m definitely dangerous and arguably a little crazy as well. The FBI are gonna waltz in here and try to arrest me, and they’re gonna need to climb over your unconscious bodies to do it. And they’re gonna fail. Wanna know why?”
    No one answers. No one moves.
    I lunge forward, jabbing the business end of the cattle prod into the stomach of the guy nearest to me. It buzzes quickly and loudly, like when a fly hits one of those Insect-O-Cutor devices you see in restaurant kitchens. The guard screams and shakes before dropping to the floor, out cold and twitching.
    I step over him swinging the stick around, catching another guard on the jaw. As he starts to drop, I spin around, thrusting the stick forward, hitting the next guard I see in the groin. His eyes go wide. He opens his mouth to scream, but no sound comes out. I’m guessing the pain is literally too much to process…
    I feel a little bad about that one.
    That’s three down in as many seconds. The two left are the ones farthest away from me on either side. I step toward the one on my left as I throw the cattle prod, shiny end first like a spear, at the guy on the right. It hits him squarely in the chest, taking him out of the equation.
    I raise my arm, blocking the swing of the remaining guard’s own weapon with ease. With his head and chest exposed, I hit him hard in the jaw with my fist. He staggers back, dropping his stick as he hits the wall. He’s groggy, but awake. I whip my leg up, kicking him hard in the gut. He wheezes, doubling over and sinking slowly to the floor. Another swift kick to the side of the head puts him down for good.
    “ That’s why.”
    I look back at Ruby.
    She’s standing, out of character,