[Music Recommendation: "Play with Fire" feat. Yacht Money by Sam Tinnesz]
With two guns in my hands, I pointed one at the driver and another at their comrade, whom they said was named Billy—probably a pseudonym since he obviously looked Korean.
"Sh*t! Sh*t! Sh*t!" the driver cussed over and over while his hands trembled, probably confused about what to do.
"One wrong move, and you're dead," I said, pressuring him more.
"Pull over, man!"
"Are you stupid?! They will kill us!"
"Bump them! They're just in a motorcycle!"
On and on, they argued. Perhaps liking that last idea, the driver tried to bump with us by shifting toward the left where we were.
Too bad for them, when it comes to missions, I'm a woman of my words.
"I hope you said your prayers."
BANG! BANG! BANG!