Disappointment doesn't even describe how I felt after we simply strolled past the front gate of The Forum Warehouse. Conflicted would probably be the closest word I could use. The guard at the reception merely nodded to our group in acknowledgement, and the lack of metal detectors in a city where half the population had pieces of metal in their bodies meant that guns got through security checkpoints without much difficulties.

“Disappointed?” Jason asked, as if he could read my mind.

I replied, “Hardly.”

I stood at the head of the group with Jason, while our rear flanks were watched by his two men, with John, Amelia, and Lindsey trapped in the middle. Though their limbs were free, the three were still hostages to the situation.

Amelia voiced out in a hushed whisper, “I can't believe you are doing this.”

I did not need to turn back to know that was directed at me. I continued walking, ignoring her discontent.

She continued, this time to Jason, “What makes you think we won't just suicide charge you once we get the chance?”

“I'm sure you will do just that, Miss Smith,” the Colonel replied. “But despite your foul mouth and questionable attitude, you're not stupid. Or are you?”

John asked, “What are you getting at?”

“You can try to attack now, but failure would mean no one left in the city would be able to stop us. I'm assuming you would wait until the most opportune moment to do so with the least chance of failure,” he explained calmly as we entered one of the large elevator platform. The door closed behind us. “But as long as I do not give you such an opportunity...” He pulled out his gun for a glimpse and his men did the same, hiding the firearms in the larger pockets of their coats, though with their fingers still on the trigger. “There's absolutely nothing you can do.”

I glanced back to see the siblings exchange defeated looks. Though Lindsey, who had opted to remain silent through the walk, gave me a slight nod.

We reached the 13th floor and an announcer over the speaker noted that we had reached the “Armoury.” We exited the giant elevator in a file. The level was just as what one would assume a warehouse to look like. A wide corridor stretched in front of us, before cutting a sharp right at the final shutter of the row. The ceiling was nearly 10 meters high, and each storage room was marked by large, red numbers painted on 5 meters high shutters.

“Storage nine,” I said, and Jason led the way.

Realizing no one was in the building - or at the very least on the same level - with us, Jason's men fully drew their guns and pushed them into Lindsey and Amelia's back, guiding them forward like a pirate would to someone walking the plank.

Our footsteps reverberated loudly through the empty halls and even the sound of Amelia's grinding teeth was audible. We stopped before gate 9. A smaller, human sized door served as an entrance beside the giant shutter. Embedded in the wall next to the door was a hand scanner.

Jason gestured to it with his gun. “Go on,” he egged me on.

Though I did not liked being ordered around, I could only give him a solid, angry stare. I stepped up to the machine and, though unsure of what would happen, placed my flesh and blood palm onto the scanner. A soft green glow flashed beneath my hand, followed by a click as the door unlocked.

A wicked smile was drawn across Jason's face as he heard the door opened. With my free hand, I gently pushed open the barrier that guarded the storage space.

I demanded, “Here you go. I've done what you asked. Now let them go.”

The Colonel simply stared stoically at me before walking into the now opened room. I could hear his footsteps echo from within, along with the rare clunk and rasping of metal and wood. It seemed he was examining the place.

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After what seemed liked hours but really, only minutes passed, Jason stepped back out into the hallway with a smug smile that I wanted to slap off him. “You did hold up the end of your deal, Mister Jones.” He waved his hand in a signal, and his henchmen raised their guns at my family and Lindsey. “But I'm afraid we can't have you running around alive and spoiling my plans.”

Calmly and slowly, I held up my robot arm, palm outstretched to Jason's face. At first, the old soldier looked at my action quizzically, scanning the inches on my being, before settling his gaze at the palm of my hand. His eyes grew wide, a look of fear I had yet to see in the old soldier's eyes.

“You know what this is?” I asked him.

His knuckles let out a reverberating crack as he formed them into fists. “Makeshift grenade,” he identified.

Within my hand, tied around my middle finger, was a metal ball filled with gunpowder from bullets, wrapped in sheets of metal salvaged from Lindsey's walkie-talkie. It was no bigger than the size of my palm, but I was confident in its abilities to inflict damage.

My anger had to be showing, for there was a slight growl when I said, “Smart man. I figured you wouldn't let them go, so I had Lindsey prepare this little surprise for you. Easy to hide, especially since your men were only looking for guns and not explosives.” I did not turn to look, but I could have swore I heard my grandchildren sighing in relief and a snicker from Lindsey.

Somehow, Jason managed some of his confidence back, asking, “How are you going to set it off? I don't see a detonator or anything of the sort.”

“Had an engineer friend of mine whip up sparklers in my hand. I just think it and boom, shrapnel in you face.” I felt like one of them comic book heroes, throwing out quips at super villains.

“You're bluffing,” he called.

“Try,” I replied.

He stared at me.

I stared at him.

He asked, “What do you want?”

“Simple. You hold up your end of the bargain and let us go. And we'll leave you to your bomb.”

“And why should I trust you?”

“You probably shouldn't.” I smirked. Or at least, I thought I smirked. Can't tell without feelings in facial muscles. “But I think getting blasted in the face right now is probably not that good a thing.”

I was calm. I was beyond calm. A part of me was enjoying it. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to like the intensity of holding a possible mass murderer hostage, but the enjoyment felt primal. Instinctual. For some reason, I thought of my grandfather.

Jason asked again, “What do you want? No. Why should I give you what you want?”

“You'll still get your E.M.P bomb and take over the city either way. All I'm asking is that you let us go. Besides, even if I were to tattle on you,” 'tattle', such a grown up word. “You would still have the bomb. Nothing lost.”

I could see from his squinted eyes that he was seriously considering the deal, looking for a way that such an arrangement could possibly backfire. He knew it was a trap. He must have known. Otherwise, I gave his intellect much more credit than I should have and I should feel ashamed of having been stumped by an idiot.

After the long pause, Jason said, “Fine.” He gestured for his men to release the prisoners. “You're all free to go.”

The soldiers lowered their guns, but Amelia did not move. Instead, she vehemently exclaimed, “I'm not going to let you guys get away with this.”

“Wait in the elevator,” I said.

Lindsey tried to calm her down, “Come on Amelia, Milton knows what he's–”

Amelia cut, “I won't forgive you for this, old man!”

I punctuated, “Wait. In. The. Elevator!”

She hesitated, shot me an angry look, and stormed off with Lindsey. John looked at me worryingly and said, “I hope you know what you're doing.” Before following them away.

I turned my attention back to Jason, my hand still held up like a cannon attached to my limb. “Get in the room,” I ordered.

“What?”

“I'm going to close the door behind you. You'll still have access to your toy. You just won't be able to shoot us in the back.”

Again, his calculating eyes scanned me. He knew that as long as he had the E.M.P bomb, whatever deal I made him would end in his favour, and I was counting on that train of thoughts. The idea that he had the upper hand.

Finally, he nodded. “Let's go boys. Rig up the thing and we'll be home for dinner and drinks.” His men gave a soft cheer and quick laugh before going into storage space 9. He turned to me one last time. “You're a good family man, Milton Jones. And that softness will be your downfall.”

“Keep walking asshole,” I growled back.

He turned, and without another look or word, followed into the room.

I rest my hand on the scanner again and the door closed shut behind them, locking with a click. I placed the makeshift grenade on the machine, activated the electric spark Clover Parker rigged for me.

I closed my eyes.

The machine exploded.

Time to meet the wrath of a furious granddaughter.