On and on the fight went, until suddenly small feet skipped down the stairs. They belonged to Cole Anderson, one of the children Daniel had brought to the art gallery today.
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The boy either wasn’t aware of the police operation downstairs or he was under the impression that being the Lieutenant’s son cleared him to watch it, in any case Cole arrived in a cheerful mood - that died the moment his eyes fell on his afterschool teacher.
“D…d…daniel? What are you doing, Daniel?! Are you drunk?”
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His ward’s arrival caused to Daniel to momentarily hesitate.
“Daniel! Stop attacking people!” Cole called out in his squeaky voice that was reminiscent of a mouse’s. “The cops won’t hurt you! Just fine you, and I bet you can even put that on your expense list! Please surrender! I promise it’ll be okay!”
Daniel didn’t care for any of the words, but Cole’s tone resonated within him. The boy’s disappointment was more than the Visitor could take now. He started moving slower, less coordinated, although far from sluggish.
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Slowing down didn’t make Daniel any less of a danger in melee, but he was now a valid target for David Allen, the third cop who had been in the police car. David didn’t take any chances. Soon as he had an unobstructed line of sight, he emptied a full magazine of gel rounds into Daniel.
As the Visitor went down, he cursed little Cole for “tricking” him.
The cops grinned, after all, a little spite in the face of this defeat was to be expected. And then they smiled with relieve, because Daniel was still breathing, his heart beating. Uncanny combat powers notwithstanding, this was a living being, not a robot.