You admit to yourself the situation has spiraled from a simple desire to make some easy money to insanity. You’re looking down the barrel of a gun you have no clue about at a horrified Nobel Prize winning doctor. Just to make things worse, your clammy finger slips on the trigger of the gun and depresses it accidentally. You grimace, expecting to see a bullet shoot through Dr. Hurley. Instead, the gun emits a sound much like electricity discharging and sparks fly from the barrel as a bright green beam of transparent light zaps straight towards Hurley.
She couldn’t have possibly escaped the blast and the beam strikes her squarely on the chest. She bellows in pain and falls backwards to the floor, desperately staring at her hands, of all things.