"I'm getting out of here!"
Clearly not everyone had been inspired by my speech. I know I wouldn't have been.
The applause was still going on when one man broke out from the crowd. Before anyone could tell him he was being an idiot he was rushing toward the front door, flailing his arms and legs like a bad cartoon. Several hands darted forwards at him, all narrowly missing his tailcoat. I wasn't sure who he was, but I guessed he must've been pretty up himself to be wearing a tailcoat.
He obviously wasn't that smart either. It was one thing to not think before acting, but another to be manic and rash and ridiculous after what had just happened. As if he'd be able to just waltz out of the hall. If that was even slightly conceivable I'd have done it myself.
"Where the hell are you going?" I called as the man darted past me, surprising myself with how tired I sounded.
"Out!" was all he cried as he got closer and closer to the set of double doors.
Someone really should have stopped him. I tried but, as most people found, he was going too fast to catch. But everyone in that room had their own idea of what would've happened if the man got through the doors. The hole in the wall would give him an immediate escape, but there was no way he would've been allowed out without being shot on the spot. It was a wonder that this guy hadn't considered the fact that if someone could break them and their cronies into an Agency party, blow a hole in the wall, rig the light system, take control of the projector and have a family member shot in their own kitchen, they'd have someone outside the building to shoot him in the head.
Fortunately for him, Violet wanted as many people left at the end of her game, and decided to humiliate him rather than kill him.
The clapping had ceased by the time the man's arms lunged forward to push the doors open. I knew I was expecting a firearm to go off the second he stepped through into the corridor, and I guessed most other people were expecting it too. The anticipated silence was enough to go on.
"Oh crap," Will muttered just as the man collided with the front doors.
The cracking of bones echoed through the hall, causing a coo of gasps from everyone. The man bounced back instantly and fell onto his back, his hands covering his already blood stricken face. He had begun whimpering uncontrollably as people started to run to his aid, forcing him to his feet again.
"Are they locked?" I asked Mr Hetley.
He shrugged carelessly. "Probably. I don't know any more."
"I think it's fair to say they're locked," Lara said irritably. "He did just faceplant them."
"Well, technically, he didn't faceplant them," Ashton said. It was funny how oblivious he was sometimes. He'd somehow not noticed the fact that she'd had a crush on him since she was twelve. "That would mean hitting the floor. He hit the do-"
"Oh my god, Ashton," Lara said, her fingers twitching like she wanted to wring his neck. "Seriously? Now?"
He fell silent and looked between us several times before stepping awkwardly backward. "Oh. Sorry."
A short buzzing began to sound, quiet enough that I guessed half the people in the room had missed it. I noticed it though, and Mr Hetley did too. He stopped in the middle of his sentence and groaned instead, turning to face the screen that was surely about to re-illuminate with something horrible.
I was expecting a scene of another hidden camera with another relative about to be shot down; Paxley shooting down the light person must have struck a chord in Violet's conditions of the night. However, what actually came back was arguably worse. It wasn't a relative; it was instead Violet herself. That meant she either wanted to warn us of a punishment or change the rules of her games. I guessed the former.
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The Elites
ActionHarry Eastbourne was the golden boy of The Elites Agency. As a special Agent with the fame of a reality star, Harry found himself thrust into the spotlight overnight, the pressure of becoming the best of the best a tumultuous weight on his shoulders...