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The Unbearable Likeness of Being Max

"Immobile," Max repeated.

The three hitmen stood around him, glancing at each other. Max stood up and brushed himself off. Thug lowered his gun and shrugged; he really didn't know what to make of the situation.

"What was that?" Thug asked.

"Yeah," Goon emphasized by smacking his fist into the palm of his hand.

"The sum of your victory depends on your mathematical problem solving," Max stated. He gauged the three men, he knew he had the situation well under control, he just wanted to play them. Curious to see how far he could take them.

"Let's quit stalling," Mook said. "Let's do this and get it over with."

"You're immortal behaviour depends on the input of the design," Max told Mook. He could feel the bullet in his arm, working out. He was willing it to dislodge, and it seemed to be working.