𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐏𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭: a sensitive, crucial area or issue against which concerted persuasion or pressure tactics can be wielded to produce a desired result
𝗠𝗮𝗰𝗚𝘆𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟭𝟲
𝘼𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙨 𝙈𝙖𝙘𝙂𝙮𝙫𝙚𝙧
𝙅𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝘿𝙖𝙡𝙩𝙤𝙣
𝙈𝙪𝙧𝙙𝙤�...
I shoot up in bed sweating once again. A sharp pain seems to fill the room as I bite my lip so as not to yelp. No bullet lies in my shoulder, but a wretched scar will always remain to remind me of it. I scan the room around me. There is no cool water filled with blood or armed men above me. There are four walls, my "DIY things" as many call them, the sound of Bozer's snoring from the other bedroom, and... apparently something playing music that i must have hit off of my nightstand.
Maybe if the room wasn't nearly pitched black and the object I knocked off wasn't currently malfunctioning, the music would be settling. However, the current song it's playing sounds like the start of a horror movie. The unfortunate music box is not helping the situation... or my heart rate at this point.
While the sleeping nightmare has faded away, the living one still very much continues. The pain in my shoulder is very real. The same could be said for the loss that accompanied it. It may have been months since it happened, but the hurt feels as fresh as the physical wound. Unfortunately, ibuprofen can't do anything to fix it.
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2 months ago...
Lake Como, Italy
Where Everything is About to Go Sideways
"Nikki?"
Nikki steps slowly around the van. She doesn't even have to say anything for me to know something is very wrong. First, there was no reason for her to be out in the open with known hostiles in the area. Second, her eyes say it all. She looks scared to death.
A barrel of a handgun emerges from behind the van. It's pointed directly at her. As they move further, I see the man holding it, but he's not someone I've ever encountered before. Jack raises his gun as well, but we both know if he has to fire... Nikki is as good as dead.
"I'm sorry, I..." she starts before being cut off as the man whips her around, placing her in a choke hold and the gun to her temple.
"The canister," he says, "please."
"You let her go," I demand.
"That's not how these exchanges work, Mr. MacGyver. You hand over the canister, and I will let your friend live."
I know the odds of this going smoothly. They are odds I'm not fond of. I'm not the only one here who knows it.
"Don't do it, Mac," Jack tells me right before another hostile clocks him, rendering him unconscious.
