The Brains Behind the Operation
“Give us one exemplary reason as to why we ought not,” challenged Acrylic.
The man, his hands up in mock surrender, sidestepped closer to us. He seemed to look pensive for a brief moment, but then he just shrugged his shoulders. “I can’t,” he admitted. “I just needed to stall you so I could activate a couple of my droids here.”
Instantly several androids, in appearance indistinguishable from normal, run-of-the-mill humans, emerged from both ends of the hallway. The mysterious man started to laugh—barely a chuckle at first, but progressing to out-and-out guffawing as he ran out the door. “You think I would let you destroy the product of my artistic genius?!” he sputtered, dissolving back into crazed cackling as he closed the chamber door behind him.
Acrylic reached into one of the front panels of his coat and pulled out a gleaming, matte-black weapon. As he withdrew it, it seemed to configure itself, with parts automatically turning and rotating. It beeped and chirped softly.
“Then let us dance,” he spoke.