Joyce was about to fall to her knees; this was the assassain on the news from three years ago.
"What are you doing here?" She tried to say loud enough.
"Hiding." The killer simply said.
"Why at my house?" She asked.
The menacing face stared at her, maybe he was about to kill her. He simply took the goggles off.
"Because." He said.
Joyce didn't live far up in the apartment, she was on the second floor. This made her slightly worried. The assassain jumped up, and before she knew it, he was in her apartment. Joyce ran to the cabnet in the kitchen and tore through for the pistol she had hiding. She grabbed it and pointed it at him. The assassain put his hands up.
"I don't have a gun." He admitted.
Joyce gripped the small gun tightly, he finger wrapped around the trigger.
"What's your name?" She asked.
The man shook his head.
Joyce got closer.
"What is your name?" She demanded.
"James, I think." He said.
"You think?" She asked.
"Yeah." He said.
He then reached for the gun, tossed it on the ground and put Joyce in a choke-hold. He was using the mysterious metal arm.
"Don't." He warned.
Joyce struggled to try and get free, but it was no use. This guy was twice her size and had a metal arm.
She noticed he had green eyes.
"Don't?" She asked.
"Don't tell anyone about this." He hissed.
His grip tightened and everything went dark for Joyce.