-= Chapter 2: Because You Just Might Get It =-

Dara froze when she felt the cold metal on her forehead.

 

'Staring down the barrel of a gun is definitely NOT my idea of fun and excitement', thought Dara. She almost giggled at her insane, overly understated, and ridiculously crazy thought. If she wasn't too damn scared, that is.

 

"Higher!" demanded the man, as the said gun was pressed non-too gently on her forehead, making her immediately raise her arms as high as she could.
 

'And I thought this day was boring', were her last thoughts before she saw the gun man slowly reach forward, menacingly threatening to touch her face.

Dara closed her eyes, expecting the worst.
 

“Stand up,” the gun man rasped, changing his mind, yet still keeping his weapon on her.

 

She stood up on wobbly legs that shook so much, she was afraid that she would fall. But somehow, she mustered enough strength to do as he said.
 

Great, I don’t get murdered by angry fan girls, only to be killed by some stupid, low-life thief, come to steal a few measly won.

 

The gun man took out another gun and turned to the other people in the café, pointing it at them, the other gun never leaving her forehead.

 

Dara’s brain turned into overdrive.

 

Somehow, there was something strange with the “criminal” holding them “hostage.” He made no attempt at all to cover his face.

 

His all-black, three-piece, Italian suit looked expensive.
 

His intense, brown eyes were neither desperate nor crazed; instead she saw that they were coldly calculating, with a hint of anger and frustration behind his cool surface.
 

One thing that Dara learned while dealing with celebrities was reading other people’s emotions. She knew when they were lying, truthful, deceptive, desperate, genuinely happy, or sad. She could tell when to zero in on a kill to get a story and when to just back out.

 

His cool, calm demeanor just did not fit a robber’s picture.

 

At least her picture of a robber, anyway.

 

After making sure everyone else was on the floor, their hands behind their heads, his cold eyes focused on her again.

 

“Keep those hands where I can see them,” he said coldly.

 

Dara followed his order to the letter, not wanting to contribute to her early death.

 

I’m too young to die, dammit! I have yet to write my story! And what a story this is going to be, she thought inanely.
 

She looked at the man’s face again, her eyes wild and desperate and so terribly afraid.
 

But the part of her brain not consumed with fright told her that this man was no robber or low-life thief. An inner voice told her that this man would be too proud and too stubborn to resort to something so miserable and dishonest as stealing; even if it meant that he would starve to death.
 

Besides, if he was indeed too poor to actually steal from the café, then the man could NOT afford an expensive gun as a Magnum .45, could he? No, this man was here for something else.

 

Something much more important than money.
 

“I’ve got her,” the stranger said.

 

Then he paused, as if waiting for something. He nodded.
 

'Oh, great! He has other psycho, evil friends to back him out!' she thought again.

“Alright, got it,” he said again.

 

He stowed his other gun back on its holster.

 

Then he angled his hand towards her face.

 

Dara closed her eyes in fright.

 

Okay, maybe this man isn’t here to rob people. Maybe he’s a ! Oh my ghad, please no. I’m too precious to be !

And not here where there are too many people to watch!!!

Dara felt his finger trace her hairline, down to her chin.


Oh ghad! Maybe he’s a psychopath who enjoyed killing people!

 

His hand went to her neck.

 

This is it. He’s a phsycho who enjoys people through strangulation! It seems like he’s going to use his ha –

 

Dara’s thoughts were halted when his fingers pinched her nose and started to tug it.
 

After a split second of pure, confused shock, she opened her eyes, turning cross-eyed, trying to focus on his hand.

 

“Excuse me, but what the fck are you doing?!” Dara asked in a pinched voice.

 

“Shut the fck up!” was the rude and abrupt response.
 

Why, I never!
 

Dara stood still as the man continued his incessant tugging.

 

“You’re not her,” he finally said after a few, tense seconds.

 

“Brilliant deduction, Agent Choi. I applaud you for coming this close. Now drop the gun,” said a low, sultry voice behind him, as the sound of a gun being cocked punctuated the command.

 

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WEEEEE!

Another chappie! Sorry it took so long!

Got busy with work, church, home, blah blah blah, I'm sure you guys aren't interested in my excuse anyways. TT___TT

Will update soon! <3

Mwah! 

Comments are love! ^_^

Kudos,

~Belle