Return to the ballroom (w dis)
From Create Your Own Story
You return to the ballroom and look around for Anthony. Over to your right, you see Anthony walking straight towards you. “Hey, you’re the magician, right?” he says, addressing you. You nod your head. “I hope you blew the audience away”
“Yes,” you reply, “they really enjoyed the performance.”
He gives you a meaningful look and mutters, “Indeed.” He grins and claps his hands together, saying happily “Well, my nephew loves magic tricks. Why don’t you and I go down into the basement and you can teach me some of your magic tricks.’
Is he trying to suggest something, you wonder. “A magician never reveals his tricks, sir,” you reply.
“Hey, come on,” he says. “What am I paying you for?”
You realize that he wants to see the guns that the Russian arms smuggler brought. “Very well,” you say confidently, “I’ll show you a few tricks.”
He chuckles to himself and says, “Excellent.” Turning around, he addresses his crowd of guests. “If you’ll excuse me, this will only take a moment.” He motions towards a body guard, who leads the two back into the lounge and through the door to the hall. The guard opens a door to the left, revealing a staircase leading down.
Anthony leads you and the guard down into a large room with few pieces of furniture aside from a sofa and a few chairs and a large television. He leads you over towards the television and pulls it away from the wall, revealing a small trap door on the underside of the television stand. He pulls a key from his pocket and unlocks the door. The three of you climb down a ladder into another part of the basement. This room is like a wide hallway, with a few doors on either side and a door at the far end. Anthony leads the two of you through a heavy, steel door into the first room on the right. This room is dark, with only a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling to light the room. You see a wooden chair in the center and a table on the far end with some rope and several knives on it. Your hear races as you wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into.
The body guard grabs your arm and pushes you up against the wall. Searching under your suit, he finds your weapons. “Assassin,” he mutters under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear. He then grabs your arm again and drags you over to the chair. “Sit,” he commends you in a thick Russian accent.
