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A slight hummmmmm sounded. The air behind Joshua trembled.
A blue glow dropped in front of his face. He jumped in fright. No one should have been able to get near him down there. Audio white noise played from the speaker that was duct-taped to the circular drone’s belly.
“How’s that possible?”
“I worked as a spy for Cyber,” said Waltz. “You might think your computers are locked down, but you seem to have forgotten who I used to be and what I used to do. What do you think a cyber warrior is anyway? Do you think it was hard to hack your security’s little air force?” asked Waltz with scorn.
The bolt struck Joshua in the chest and sent excruciating pain through his torso that spread out to the tips of his fingers and toes. Such totalic agony was wholly unknown to him.
“Fuck you!” he said.
“No you won’t,” said the loud voice of Waltz. “And just so you know: that little guy I sent down to you . . . let’s call ‘em Hulk . . . Hulk won’t stop until you’re dead . . . and I am free.”
“STOP!” squealed Joshua. He swung clenched fists into the air, but his feeble attempts fell far short of the bobbing drone. His t-shirt burned. “STOPPPPPP!”
“This whole place will blow up,” he gasped, “and gas everyone with Ebola for twenty miles!”
“What did you say?” asked Waltz.
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