Boss Dragon continued speaking:

“Now, I wish to extend my thanks to the both of you.” Boss Dragon gave his usual smile. One that displayed more hatred or disgust than happiness.

The closed circuit TV was garbled with static every now and then, but the transmission was relatively clear.

“You have helped me in my search for this... ‘Coin’...”

Marty looked around. They had tried a minute ago to cut the TV off, but Boss Dragon did not like that. He displayed his displeasure in the situation by having a small gun turret appear out of where perhaps an antenna should be, but it had receded into the set for the moment.

“And, in return, I will guarantee your fame. The both of you. You will both be, in a matter of moments, rather hated suicide bombers. Personally, I like the term Infamous. It just has such an extra flair. Do you understand me, Mister Seventy? When the building explodes, sadly, you will go right along with it.”

Boss Dragon didn’t smile. He didn’t nod. He showed no outward signs of emotion. Marty was struck by this, the rage in his body building.

“You’re the most rotten, vile man to ever live, Dragon.”

Boss Dragon’s eyes lit up.

“Thank you, my friend.” Just as Boss Dragon finished speaking, they heard a door swing open. Boss Dragon heard it through the mic, and gave a sigh of satisfaction.

“And now the deal is complete. We will be in contact shortly.”

Just then the closed circuit TV shut off entirely, and some of the lights dimmed out. The hard concrete of the parking garage felt so cold.

A young looking man walked toward them in black shoes, with a large gun in his hand.

“So, Marty.” Mr. Seventy said low, “I suppose this is about the end, isn’t it?”

He pointed it at Mr. Seventy.

“No offense intended, my friends, but your names happen to be ‘one-hundred’ and ‘one-hundred and one. Sorry about this, but, really, what can we do.” The man spoke.

“Actually, my name is Mr. Sev-” Marty hit him hard on the back. Then as it seemed the end was about 15 feet away, they heard a great creaking noise, same as when Marty and Mr. Seventy had entered the building and the door slammed shut, locked tight.

 The man looked back, and shrugged, then pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

“What the d-”

The re-activation of the television cut him off.

“Now, you’ve all arrived. Good. I forgot to tell you all, an assasin who calls himself ‘NightVision’ would be joining you tonight, the third member in this group of three terribly confused men who decided to blow themselves up along with a very large building. We will be in contact soon. Goodbye.”

The television cut off again.

“So, I get all the way to the end, and I fail. This is certainly not what I’d hoped for.”

Mr. Seventy walked to the barred door, gave it a tug, and gave up.

“It’s not really what I wanted either. Not at all.”