Pressed

This can't take forever. I just don't have the time. One way or another, I'm gonna have to wrap this up.

As I stood there standing over the body that thought kept running through my mind. I knew the others would show up soon and I didn't want to have to explain why I was covered in Jose's blood.

It had all happened so fast, even now looking down into his eyes I could only barely understand. Seconds ago I was standing behind Phillip's desk holding in my hand the very thing that I had come here to find, and then Jose had run into the room. He must have realized what I was holding, because he ran at me. Before I could even scream he was on me.

He grabbed my arm and we struggled. He tried to rip it from my hand. I stomped on his foot and grabbed his head with both my hands. Something strange happens when you find yourself suddenly fighting for your life. Neither of us said a word. For a few seconds we focused every ounce of ourselves on the singular goal of killing the other. There was no discussion. No quarter asked or given. There was only each other, and the struggle we shared.

And then I smashed his head into the corner of the desk until his body quit shaking and I could feel the weight of his death in my hands.

There was blood everywhere. And any minute now three men I could already hear coming up the stairs were about to walk into this room and see what had happened. I wouldn't be able to talk my way out of that.

I didn't think I could kill them all. Not three of them.

So I did the only thing I could think of. The only thing that would keep me alive. I reached down and put the box in Jose's pocket and I ran towards the stairs screaming for help.

Three years. Wasted. And instead of being free I was tied more tightly to Phillip and his organization than ever before.

And I'd lost the box.

They wouldn't be so casual next time. It had taken me three years just to get it in my hands. And now they'd be ten times more careful. Even if they blamed Jose for what happened, the fact that someone, anyone, had tried to steal it would make them cautious.

I would get another chance. Eventually. Perhaps killing Jose would gain Phillip's trust. Perhaps I wouldn't have to wait another three years before I held that box in my hand again. But today, a day that for one moment had held such promise, would not be the day I was made free.

As I rounded the landing and headed down the stairs, screaming all the way, I had one more thought.

With Jose dead, Phillip would need a new lieutenant.

Perhaps I'd hold that box again sooner than I feared.