"Heh. He left his balcony unlocked."
"Matcha, be careful," Zion whispered through his earpiece, "It could be a trap."
"I doubt it."
"He didn't bring Solomon Pharmaceuticals to the number two spot by being stupid," Zion warned, but Matcha did not heed it. He instead boldly - if stupidly - shoved open the door, and the curtains, and opened the room to the world.
Syrus was sitting on the bed in the room, his back turned. Matcha was amazed that he seemingly hadn't noticed the intrusion.
I can get the drop on him.
Matcha reached for his belt, grabbing his gun before rushing forward and jumping on him.
Syrus yelped, Matcha wasting no time in pressing the barrel of his pistol into Syrus' temple.
"Got you now, you sunnovabitch."
Syrus stayed still in his grip. He didn't struggle. He didn't bargain.
"You should look up."
"Hey! You aren't making demands here."
"Is that Syrus?" Zion asked.
"Yeah, it is. I've got him at gunpoint. He's... suspiciously compliant. I'll try to interrogate him."
"It says gullible on the ceiling," Syrus said.
"Shut up! Or I'll blow your brains out."
He could feel Syrus' breath catch in the chokehold.
"I... I don't wanna die."
"Why's he talking like that? He sounds high."
"Hey, Syrus! Are you high?" Matcha demanded. Syrus nodded. "Oh, my god," he laughed, "that's why you're not at the speech! Zion, he's high as hell!"
"Let me go."
"Kidnapping him's not a good idea." Zion murmured. "What drugs did he take? Maybe you can sober him up."
"Hey, Syrus, what did you take?"
"I'll tell you if you look at the ceiling."
"No."
Syrus shifted a little, if only for Matcha to press the gun further into his temple.
"Really, it says gullible."
"God, you're stu-"
There was a loud creak above him. Then, snap, and finally the ceiling fan crashed to the ground, a person wrapped around it.
"Gullible," the new face wheezed, and then they fell back on the ground.
"Matcha, everything good?"
"Not sure," Matcha narrowed his eyes, "but now there's a weird guy that's probably hurt on the ground and Syrus is still being strange."
"Let him go," the man on the ground groaned, "he's a kid."
"Dude, he's like, 22," Matcha protested, "you're like one of those people who say their kid is 36 months instead of 3 years."
"He's a kid," the man repeated, "now let him go, before I beat your ass."
Matcha scoffed, then cocked his gun. He wouldn't be ordered around by one of Ryan Solomon's goons, and he would not let Ryan Solomon's devil partner get away either. Both were terrible, both were evil, and both deserved pain.
Syrus made a noise akin to a whimper when the gun cocked, and Matcha nearly laughed. He acted so stoic, but now - now he was scared. Syrus Wilson deserved to be scared.
