"You're a traitor, Odhie! A complete snake!" Kevo roared, his voice bouncing violently off the cramped metal walls of the tech stall.
His chest was heaving with a mixture of rage and panic.
"I had to save my own skin, buda! " Odhiambo shouted back, his defensive anger masking his fear as sweat poured down his temples.
"Hand over the plastic card right now! They're already on this floor! You can't outrun them!"
The heavy footsteps outside grew louder with every passing second, accompanied by a distinct, terrifying sound that made Kevo’s stomach drop.
It was the sharp, metallic clack-clack of a tactical combat shotgun being chambered in the hallway.
The Cleaner's professional mercenaries were systematically closing the perimeter around Stall 312, cutting off the exits.
Kevo didn't waste another second arguing.
He reached onto the repair desk and grabbed a heavy, metallic...