Stanislawa Jurkowska tore out the drawers to her desk desperately. Where was the gun? Where the hell? She never thought this day would come, but the gunfire and screams kept getting closer and closer. Why had father been so stupid to try to defy the Armstrong Corporation? She tried, hopelessly, to call the Tetsuo family representative in charge of their acquisition. Her comm let out a dead tone, then its AI “helpfully” reported “I’m sorry, I can’t make a call without a connection to the ansinet, try moving a few meters in any direction!”
She threw her comm at the wall in frustration. Father always told her there was a gun hidden in the desk if she needed it, and she needed it now. Even if just one charge or bullet was left in the damned thing…
The reinforced panic doors to her office shook, and bent, but took the impact of whatever god awful ballistic weapon the Armstrong mercs were trying to use to bust it down. A framed cover of Young Qiyejia magazine with her face on it fell to the floor, its case shattering. She picked it up, shaking.