Page 135 of Shrapnel

“What am I doing?” he asked again, shrilly and full of bravado. “Do you know who I am?”

The guy shifted, gripping the gun a little firmer. “No, who are you?”

Dazzle them with bullshit.

“I’m the IT guy. I’m here to service the….psionic processors.”

He looked confused, glancing from Owen to the moved toolbox. “The what?”

“The processors! They have to be serviced every three days. Do you know what happens when a hydroponic titanium core melts down?”

The guard looked worried. He shook his head.

“Let’s just say, it’ll give off enough radiation to make Chernobyl look like it popped a bag of microwave popcorn.”

“We have that here?”

Owen rolled his eyes dramatically. “What do you think runs the biosynthetic hydroplasmic 8069 security system?”

“The hydroplasmic—”

“8069!”

Owen was really hoping this guy didn’t know his high school locker combination.

“It gives off radiation?”

Owen looked around conspiratorially, he waved him closer. The guard leaned in. “Between you and me, my boss has worked around these things since the 90’s. You know how it was back then, all cowboying around. They didn’t have the safety regulations we do now, and he got some pretty serious radiation.” He shook his head like it was a sad story. “His wife of twenty years left him. Now, it’s never been confirmed but…” he waved his pinky finger in the guy’s face.

The guard stared horrified, instinctively covering his groin with his hands.

“You need to get down there.” The guard pulled open the door, exposing a set of narrow cement steps. “I’ll take you. I don’t think I’m supposed to leave you alone.”

“Please do. I get hopelessly lost.” Owen lied, fingering the thick Stun Baton in his jeans. He followed the guard down the stairs, hopping down like a weird penguin.

“What happened to your leg?” he asked dubiously.

“I was in graphic design until I took an Apple Pen to the knee,” Owen answered dryly, looking down the long hallway. It was claustrophobic. Narrow walls that no one had bothered to finish with drywall leading into the bowels of the mansion. Bare bulbs hung suspended every ten feet or so, their light providing only the barest of illumination.

“Wow, I didn’t know computers could be so dangerous.”

He followed the guard farther in. Noah hadn’t mentioned that there was anything else down here besides the cell. He had no idea if there were any computers or anything even computer like. While this guard was clearly not the sharpest tool in the shed, he might notice Owen trying to free a six foot plus mercenary rather than fixing some made up technology.

“Hey, don’t you need any tools?” the guard suddenly asked, stopping quickly and turning around to face Owen.

This was it. His moment. He had no choice.

Plunging his hand into his pants, he fumbled for the Stun Baton. The raised lip caught on his underwear, and he struggled to pull it free. He fell against the unfinished wall, wrestling with the wrist strap. Finally, he pulled it free, flipping it right side he leveled it at the guard.

“How’s this for a too—”

Two thick hands reached out and grabbed the guard, jerking him against the iron bars of the cell. One hit and the guard crumpled to the ground unconscious.

“Aw. I wanted to shock him.” Owen pouted, looking up to see Jackson staring at him incredulously.

“That was the saddest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Jackson was leaning against the bars, one sword sharp eyebrow raised as he apprised Owen. He looked a little gaunt, but otherwise in good condition.