"Open the door," Robbin said coldly, "or die."
Bob merely let out a bitter laugh. "Dream on, you masked clown. Even if I open the door, I'm dead anyway. So, killing me is your only option."
Robbin grabbed Bob and forced his head against the scanner for retinal and fingerprint recognition, but there was still a password lock remaining.
"It's useless!" Bob chuckled darkly. "I won't tell you the password!"
Robbin said, "This is just the reception room, not the archive room, correct?"
As he spoke, Robbin's eyes fixed on the keypad, then narrowed. "Six digits?"
"What?" Bob sneered bitterly. "Six digits mean there are a million possible combinations. Go ahead, feel free to try them all."
"Why bother with the trouble?" Robbin gripped Bob's mouth tightly and pulled out a vial of serum, forcing it down his throat.
Realizing what it was, Bob gritted his teeth and said, "Truth serum? Sorry, sir, resisting this stuff is a fundamental part of our training."
