She was a crack shot with any firearm, knew all the finer points of close quarters combat and could, in all likelihood, bench press a Buick. You’d think she’d have been the perfect person to have at your back when the feces made contact with the rotating oscillator. You’d be wrong, of course, but I can’t blame you for that. She also possessed, it seems, a highly-developed ability to pull the wool over everybody’s eyes.
Though I’d spent my entire life scribbling formulas on dry erase boards and formulating ground-breaking theories, I still had enough common sense to know my work was of inestimable value to any of Gemini Corporation’s competitors. So, the logic of a bodyguard was valid to me. For once in my brilliant analytical life, boy was I wrong.
She wasted no time turning me over to some very rough-looking guys in a featureless warehouse. She’d been on the job less than a day. Either she signed on intending to sell me out or she was the easiest person to bribe in the history of such. Right now, I’m not so sure it matters which of those two possibilities is most likely.
She took their credsticks and, while hugging me goodbye, whispered in my ear she’d be back to bust me out in no time. That was, by my calculations, three days ago and it’s occurring to me she lied about that too. A very compelling proof of the theory: fool me twice…shame on me, it seems.
This story was written for the weekly Thursday Threads flash fiction challenge prompt: "Right now, I'm not so sure."