The compliance spread across the room, wrapping around him like a shield wall. They didn't know about the guns. They didn't know about the ticking clock. But they were ready to bleed for him anyway.
Ryan felt the agonizing pressure in his chest loosen, just a fraction. The corners of his eyes tightened.
He looked at the machinery of his empire, spinning up to a lethal speed.
Ryan simply smiled.
"Thank you," he said.
----
The next day.
The sharp, rhythmic clatter of mechanical keys echoed like gunfire against the bare walls of the living room.
It was 3:14 AM. The city outside his window had finally settled into its lowest gear, leaving only the distant wail of a siren and the low hum of the refrigerator.
Ryan sat hunched over his monitor, the harsh blue light washing over his face. He reached blindly for the ceramic mug beside his keyboard. His fingers brushed the cold surface.
