Chapter 7 - The Men in Black Tactical Gear
The sight of the silenced barrels gleaming in the firelight froze Evelyn in her tracks. She threw her hands up instinctively, shielding Arthur’s head with her body as the two tactical operatives advanced through the smoke with terrifying, mechanical precision.
"Don't move," the lead operative commanded through a black gas mask, his voice modulated and devoid of any human emotion. "Step away from the boy. The Vance directive requires containment of both assets."
Arthur’s heart hammered against his ribs. Assets. Not people. Not a son and a guest. Just assets to be secured, contained, or eliminated by whatever shadowy board of directors controlled his father’s empire from the shadows.
"Who sent you?" Arthur demanded, forcing as much authority into his voice as he could muster while sitting trapped in his motorized wheelchair. "Julian is in police custody. You have no jurisdiction here!"
The operative chuckled darkly behind his gas mask, stepping closer. "Julian was just a figurehead, kid. A greedy little pawn who thought he was running the board. But the Vance Foundation answers to a much higher power—one that doesn't appreciate old secrets crawling out of the basement."
Evelyn slowly lowered her hands, her eyes darting toward the heavy service door that led down to the underground bunker. The brass key in Arthur’s hand suddenly felt burning hot, the key to unlocking everything they had fought for tonight. But the tactical operatives were blocking the path, their weapons locked firmly on target.
"Evelyn," Arthur whispered under his breath, his thumb hovering nervously over the joystick of his motorized chair. "When I count to three, hit the manual override switch on the back left wheel. I’m going to ram them."
Evelyn didn't look at him, but her fingers subtly shifted position against the metal frame of the chair. "You'll flip the chair, Arthur. The drop is too steep."
"Do it anyway," Arthur hissed, his eyes hardening with a desperate, reckless bravery he never knew he possessed. "One... two..."
Before he could say three, Evelyn lunged sideways, grabbing a heavy brass fire extinguisher mounted on the charred wall and hurling it with all her might directly into the face of the lead operative. The heavy canister struck the man square in his gas mask with a sickening crunch, sending him stumbling backward into his partner.
"Now!" Evelyn screamed.
Arthur slammed his thumb forward on the joystick while Evelyn kicked the manual override. The motorized wheelchair leaped forward like a startled beast, its heavy rubber tires tearing across the burning carpet straight toward the two stumbling operatives.
The second operative managed to recover, raising his pistol and firing a suppressed round that grazed the side of Arthur’s dark blue jacket, tearing the fabric and embedding itself into the wall behind them. But before he could pull the trigger a second time, the heavy wheelchair slammed directly into his knees with full mechanical force, sending him crashing hard to the marble floor.
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Without looking back, Evelyn grabbed the handles of the chair, pushing and guiding Arthur through the shattered service door and plunging headfirst down the steep, pitch-black concrete staircase leading into the subterranean depths of the estate.
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