Friday, 12:20 AM. The Minotaur Club, VIP Labyrinth.
The muzzle flash of Harrison Croft's suppressed pistol illuminated the dim, circular room like a strobe light.
To the three billionaires sitting at the table, the gunshot was a sudden, deafening crack that signaled the end of the negotiation. But to me, operating under the System's [Auto-Defense Protocol], the world had ground to an agonizing, gelatinous halt.
[System Override]
[Hyper-Reflex State: Active]
[Duration: 3.0 Seconds]
I watched the slide of the pistol cycle backward, ejecting a smoking brass casing into the air. I saw the distortion in the air as the 9mm hollow-point bullet tore across the space between us, aimed directly at the center of my forehead.
I didn't try to dodge. At this range, even with System-enhanced reflexes, moving my entire center of mass was mathematically impossible.
Instead, I moved my hand.
