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This was it. Nixon had a gun, too. A real one.

Alessio was going to die. They stared at each other. Alessio relaxed his expression, not looking angry anymore.

"Who are you? I want to know who you are."

He lowered his gun a bit.

"I'd rather be...home."

He really was. Gunpoint. His stomach hurt. He was too nervous in this position. Perhaps he could engage in a conversation with Nixon to find out who they were. To find common ground. They both rather wanted to be home. Alessio did not need enemies. He either needed victims or helpers.
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70's Horror Movies III: Swooooooooord Caaaaaaaaaaane · The Cafeteria