The outside world never seemed so far away. Dick had been stuck inside of the mall for almost forty minutes, which reminded him that he had around twenty minutes to stop the terrorists before they shoot the first choir member. There was no way that there could be any deaths under his belt, and more importantly while he wore the suit. By now, he was already near the food court, and the lounge had to be nearby.

“Yo, Dick!” Michael quickly hissed, getting his attention.

Michael was behind the counter of the Burger Monarch, far from his goal and trying to keep hidden. Dick was alarmed livid seeing that he was nowhere near security room. He started to dash over towards the counter, quickly jumping behind it and taking cover.

“Why the fuck are you here?” Dick whispered.

“I couldn’t get into the security room, there was some big guy guarding it and I decided I’d come here first and regroup.” Michael replied.

“Piss, how’d you get here so fast?”

“You took the long route around apparently.”

“I’m not good with maps,” Dick started to ramble on before hearing some footsteps coming from across the food court. “Get down!”

The two lay against the greasy floor, well out of sight as the footsteps approached. Muhammad started to make a patrol of the floors, still clenching his AK47. The inside of the food court had an ominous gloom. Its tables had once been filled, now all remained was trash and cold food. Muhammad looked over every counter as he walked past, slowly making his way towards the two. Dick held his pistol tight. He had since run out of ammunition and was just holding the weapon to show at this point. Before Muhammad could approach, his radio started to buzz.

Achmed was speaking on the other end in his native tongue. Dick and Michael were alarmed, but tried to decipher the message. Muhammad continued to talk to Achmed, laying out their master plan once more.

“I can’t understand him, what are they saying? What language is that?” Michael whispered.

“Sounds like they’re speaking Muslim,” Dick replied. He started to slowly rise from the floor, signaling Michael to follow him back through the kitchen. “Let’s get out of here while he’s still distracted.”

The two carefully made their way back through the kitchen, keeping a low profile. While continuing forward, Muhammad started to make his way past the front of the store. Surely enough, he spotted the two making their escape and was quick to react. He wsa too late to try and take a shot, so he started to make his way around the food court and towards the back area.

Between the areas of the food court was a massive kitchen area. It was vast, filled with shiny metal surfaces and dozens of counter tops to help allow the many chains to operate. The countertops were all parallel to each other, and big enough to conceal a person. Muhammad began a slow sweep of the inside, quick to try and spot the other two. Dick and Michael were both fully aware that he was on their trail. The two were able to spot him out through the bottom side of the counters and had been frozen in place.

“What do we do now?” Michael whispered.

“Can you get to the security room from here?” Dick returned.

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“Yeah, it’s not far from here.”

“Split up, and no snack breaks this time.”

Michael nodded before starting to crawl on all fours towards the exit. Dick knew he was going to have to find some way to fight back. His opponent would easily be able to gun him down, and his massive frame would be a big target. With the options and time running out, Dick finally decided to bite the bullet and improvise. He rose from behind the counter, pointing the empty pistol at Muhammad.

“Don’t move,” Dick shouted to Muhammad, immediately causing him to turn back towards him with the AK47. “Looks like we got a Mexican standoff.”

“Perhaps.” Muhammad shouted back.

“Do you think you can even hit me with that from this range?”

“Of course, how will you hit me with your safety on?”

“Jokes on you, dick head, my gun isn’t even loaded,” he said back, this time with a snarky smile before pausing. “Fuck.”

Muhammad pulled the trigger, the barrel of the AK47 started to ignite into a fury. As the bullets flew, Dick started to make a dash down the aisle as fast as possible. The hot metal flew past his head, making a popping noise. He continued ahead as fast as he could, trying to keep low. Once he reached the end of the counters, he dived in place to let the bullets pass overhead.

After a few seconds of nonstop fire, Muhammad heard a loud click from the rifle. He continued pulling the trigger, only to realize he was already out of bullets. Once he looked down to reach for a new magazine, he heard a loud yell. Dick jumped out from behind one of the counters with his foot out to deliver the most bad ass flying kick possible.

Muhammad did a sidestep, narrowly avoiding the attack before squaring up. The two started to do battle. Every second they threw punches and kicks at each other, each deflecting and parrying their attacks while they moved down the aisle. Dick finally delivered a quick roundhouse, kicking the AK47 out of Muhammad’s hands and across the kitchen. While moving backwards, Muhammad took notice of a bag of flour sitting out on the countertop. He quickly reached out to it, grabbed hold, and slung the contents towards Dick.

“Shit!” Dick shouted as the cloud of flour enveloped him.

He squared up again, realizing that Muhammad was using it as a window to attack. Seconds later, Muhammad rushed through with a knife in hand. He took a shot towards Dick’s face, but the attack was quickly deflected. Dick grabbed a hold of Muhammad’s hand and tried to get a hold of the knife. The two continued to wrestle over the blade, slowly moving towards the deep fryers. After scuffling a little more, Dick finally delivered a Judo chop and smacked the weapon away. While the knife sailed away, Muhammad went for a haymaker, this time striking Dick in the forehead.

The sudden strike caused his vision to go white. He stumbled backwards, this time landing on top of the fryers. He could hear the oil boiling behind his head. There were still Freedom Fries and other charred remains floating in the baskets. Right as Dick tried to stand up, Muhammad rushed over and tried to push his head inside the vat. Dick had done a lot of abs earlier, and he did not quite have the endurance to crunch his way out of this one. His head continued to dip lower, this time causing the hair on the back of his head to greet the oil. It was getting perilous, but just then he noticed a pack of cold bacon sitting next to the deep fryer and grabbed hold. With one clean sweep, he swung it towards Muhammad’s face and pressed it against his flesh. Muhammad let out a scream of horror, almost as if the pork was burning his skin. He released Dick, allowing him to get to his feet and go for a knee strike.

Muhammad took the blow straight to his stomach, feeling all the wind get knocked out of his lungs. Since Dick never skipped leg day (and neither should you), it hurt extra bad. He then went for one final punch, this time sending Muhammad flying backwards towards the rifle. After landing on his back, he was quick to try and reach for the weapon and sight in. He gripped the rifle, cocked the weapon to load a round, and then started to point the weapon back towards Dick.

“Wait,” Dick shouted to him. Muhammad froze in place, eager to hear what he had to say. Dick then lifted his hand, revealing the remote for the suicide vest still around Muhammad’s chest. He then asked, “Did you forget something?”

Dick pressed the button, causing the vest to explode. The vest blasted Muhammad to smithereens before consuming the entire kitchen in a ball of fire.