Chloe circled behind the researcher, pressing the cold muzzle of the gun against the back of his neck.
“Very good.
Now, take me to the cable car.
Don’t try any tricks!”
“Don’t you think this is too obvious?” The researcher raised his hands, turned around, and countered with a question.
Chloe’s eyes darkened instantly, and she had an idea.
She no longer pointed the gun at him.
Instead, she suddenly withdrew it, and her small body lunged forward, throwing herself directly into the arms of the standing researcher.
Like a frightened test subject about to be taken away for disposal, she leaned softly against his chest.
In the next second, her hand hidden behind her back suddenly rose, and the muzzle of the gun was pressed hard against the middle of their pressed-together abdomens, aimed right at the researcher’s soft ribs.
The force wasn’t great, but it was cold, hard, and carried a lethal threat.
The researcher froze, not daring to move an inch.
Chloe buried her face in his white lab coat, her voice carrying a chill that only the researcher, who was pressed extremely close, could hear through her gritted teeth:
“Hold me.
Pick me up like you’re carrying a test subject to be disposed of.”
“If you dare to look up, if your eyes look wrong, or if you dare to make a single sound for help, I’ll fire right now.”
“This gun will be pressed against you the whole time.
As soon as you panic or falter, I’ll pull the trigger immediately.”
The researcher broke into a cold sweat, his hands rising stiffly as he obediently took Chloe into his arms.
The little girl was held horizontally in his arms, appearing completely defenseless, like a test subject at someone’s mercy.
But only the researcher himself knew that his life was being held firmly in the hands of this small body.
Chloe lay quietly in his arms, her eyes half-closed, looking weak and harmless.
However, her fingers hidden between them were steadily on the trigger, not relaxing for a single moment.
“Now, walk forward to the cable car,” she whispered in a breathy voice.
“Remember your identity: you are escorting a test subject about to be disposed of.
I am your cargo.”
“If you dare to show a single flaw, we’ll die here together.”
The researcher’s Adam’s apple bobbed hard.
Holding Chloe, he stepped into the long, narrow, and dim corridor of The Ark.
The metal walls glinted with a cold white light, and emergency lights flickered overhead.
The sound of footsteps was amplified clearly in the empty passage.
Occasionally, one or two researchers carrying documents would walk past, only giving them a hurried glance before looking away.
In The Ark, carrying a test subject to and from the disposal room was perfectly normal.
No one knew that beneath that seemingly harmless little body, a gun was pressed hard against the hostage’s vital organs.
The researcher carried her all the way through the empty corridors.
Because the test subjects at The Orphanage had lost control, more than half of the security in The Ark had been diverted there.
Everything went more smoothly than imagined.
Chloe lay in the researcher’s arms, the gun still pressed against him, but her heart gradually felt a sense of relief.
She thought she had calculated all the loopholes: the lack of security, the numbness of the personnel, and the fact that no one would suspect a small test subject awaiting disposal.
She even felt that by continuing this way all the way to the cable car, she could leave this hellhole for good.
She let her guard down, the gun pressing against the researcher shifted slightly, and even her focus began to wander.