(Libertatem 1, 59 7:55AM)

The room was plastered with maps and papers that littered the dark wooden floor. 

Between the room and the hallway, an entire group of soldiers and agents led by a blonde-haired agent were all positioned in a single file line. Inside of the blonde agent’s right pocket, was none other than his right hand, his fingers grasping onto something cold and dark. 

His eyes peered into a figure that sat down on a rotating luxurious chair, with the figure looking out the window as the morning sun shone down on him. Despite no signs of the man in the chair twitching or making a move, it kept every agent and soldier at bay, their fingers grazing the contents of their weapons.

(Agent Briggs) Who are you?

(???) If I tell you, it will ruin the surprise.

(Agent Briggs) How about you stand up and turn around or else I’ll give you a surprise on the back of your skull.

(???) Oh?

In an instant, the figure slowly stood up as he placed both of his hands onto the armrests of the black chair to help himself up. Noticing that the figure was wearing sandals, the rest of the agents and soldiers took a whiff of the figure wearing a priest-like white robe, followed by the man’s hair color being a light green.

Briggs gulped.

(???) You know I don’t want to kill any of you.

Everyone quickly pulled their weapons out of their pants or jacket pockets, all pointing the pint of their barrels. 

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Slowly, the old man raised his hands, his knuckles facing the agents and soldiers with his palms hitting the rays of the morning sun. Taking a step forward, Briggs placed his left hand right onto his right hand that gripped the handle of his eagle revolver.

(Agent Briggs) What makes you think you could kill us?

(???) All of you are weak. Fragile, even. A simple gust of wind could push you all down. 

Briggs scoffed.

(Agent Briggs) And you?

(???) You’d be surprised…

The old man placed both of his hands into his sleeves, having one of his hands overlapping the other inside of the white robe. Turning his body around, everyone including Briggs got to take a look at the old man’s wrinkled eyes that were protected by his oval-shaped glasses. 

Tilting his head upward, the old man let out a smug smirk, as the corner of his right lip reached the bottom of his right ear. With just that simple smirk alone, Briggs moved his pointer finger from the side of the gun to the trigger, caressing the metal with his sweaty fingertip.

(???) By just how powerful I can be.

Two figures came out of the corners of the room.

A quarter of everyone pointed their guns toward the tall man with blonde hair, while the other quarter pointed them toward a woman with red hair and rectangular glasses. As for half of the soldiers, they remained their barrels drawn to the unholy man that was standing right in front of them.

Briggs remained silent as he glanced at all three dangerous figures that faced him. Not hearing a response, the old man slowly started to walk forward as his average height slightly towered the below-average height of the blonde-haired agent. Standing directly in front of him, the barrel of the gun that Briggs pointed was merely placed right along the left side of the old man’s chest.

(???) It is true that my knuckles and hands were not what they used to look like, but…

In an instant, the weapon that Briggs pointed was suddenly aimed down onto the ground.

His elbows and arms were working along with his hands as if something was pushing his weapon down to gravity. Grinding the back ends of his molars, Briggs glanced at his two hands that were clasping the gun together, his hands that were bound by none other than an extra pair of hands.

(???) No human has ever dented my knuckles.

Briggs buckled his knees as he began to hyperventilate, his chest heaving up and down as his airflow weakened.

Letting out a simple chuckle, he tilted his head up, beginning to look down on the scared agent as the old man took a step back.

(???) It would be stupid to kill all of you, mostly since you guys work directly under the government.

The two figures stood side by side with the light green-haired old man, their hands curled into fists. Without the need for basic weapons, the two of them soon began to alter or change the atmosphere of the room, causing many of the soldiers to lower their weapons in a heap of surrender.

Which even caused the cold frowning Briggs to drop his too, along with the two other agents that were beside him. 

(???) Let’s change some events in the story, shall we?