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Assassination of the Innocent

When Watty woke up, it was instantly known to them that they were not in the bed that they shared with MySpace. Because even without their sight (probably obscured by a blindfold - this was a usual occurrence), they could tell that they were in a sitting position, and their body was stiff so they assumed that one, they were in a chair, and two, they were tied down.

They lifted their head sharply, tilting it to one side so that the blindfold hooked over the chair, and pulled forward. The Syndicate never had bothered with stopping them taking it off. They knew where they were, and who cared as long as they never actually found out how to get there.

They expected the small dingy room that they usually woke up in in these situations, but instead were met with a large room. There were windows right near the top of the high ceiling, so natural light flooded in, and lit the room. Watty wished it hadn't.

Because there, sat in front of him, arms tied behind their backs, and duct tape over their mouths, were the roommates Watty had grown to know and care for. They were all in tears, but they actually seemed to be more confused. Why had Watty been sat in a chair, not on the floor like them? How come they knew how to get their blindfold off, without even the slight bit of panic first?

"What are you doing here?" they tried to ask, but their whisper went unanswered.

Even the new guy - Snapchat - was here, and he looked more terrified than the rest of them. After all, he'd only really met them yesterday, and now he was here being held hostage in an operation that held Watty at the centre.

Watty had since begun looking around them, to see if any one else was present yet, or for anything that could help them. There was something, something right in front of them, but out of their reach. Two guns. They were identical, although Watty was almost certain they would be different in some way.

"Ah, Ghost. You're awake."

It was the voice! Holy shit, it was the voice on the ear piece. He never came to talk with Watty personally, why was he doing so now? The faceless person was to be paired with a face. But then, if this situation began to turn, he'd also end up dead.

"What do you want? Why are they here? You promised!" they yelled, "You promised me!"

"I did, but then you had to go and get yourself a love interest and friends didn't you? Surely, you didn't think you would be left alone if you mingled with other people. You put yourself and us in danger Nate."

"I didn't put anyone in danger. I didn't tell anyone, and I wasn't going to! You've put everyone in this room in this danger by bringing everyone here."

The man didn't say anything, but Watty heard the familiar sound of a knife being pulled from and sheath. They held back the gasp that stuck in their throat with their breath and waited for impact. But the only thing that happened was that the rope restraints keeping them to the chair fell from them, and left them sitting normally.

"Pick a gun, and point it at the head of the person you love most. And don't fuck with me here Nate, I know exactly which person that is. Look, I even sat her in the middle for you."

And it was true. MySpace was sat in the middle.

"And if I don't?"

"I'm not finished," the man snapped, still not walking into Watty's view, "If you do not, the rest of them will die. If you do not point the gun at her, or if you then move the gun away, the rest of them will die."

"Why are their two guns?"

"Do you want the truth, or the answer you expect?"

"The truth." Watty snapped.