"I know your type has had special training. Out of respect, I didn't hold back. Honestly, beating people up is exhausting, and I don't have time to play games with you." Ivy Holden raised her hand, cocked the gun, and pressed it against the man's head again. "Now you have two choices. Cooperate quietly, or I'll send you to meet God."
"What… do you want?" the man asked, gritting his teeth.
Ivy Holden was hesitating when she suddenly heard a PUTT-PUTT-PUTT sound. The noise grew closer, and when she turned to look, she saw a farm tractor driving into the poplar forest.
"Mr. Aldrin?" Ivy Holden stared at the man on the tractor, unsure whether to laugh or cry.
'Didn't I tie this guy up in that dark little room? How did he get out so fast?'
"President Holden! That was really uncool of you! I told you I'm not a bad guy! Director Morrison specifically sent me to protect you!" David Aldrin jumped down from the tractor, a bundle of hemp rope in his hand.
