The first scenario it is then.
In his current dilemma, that was his only option. At least, the only one he could think of at the moment.
Rye knew that running wasn't an option as they would catch him in an instant. Fighting was even less, given his preference to avoid conflict and the massacre that lay behind him.
That left one option: the clueless cleaner jest.
Rye took a deep breath and exhaled sharply. He stuffed the gun into his uniform and with a glimmer of hope they wouldn't kill him the moment he showed his face, Rye stepped out from behind the doorframe, both hands raised high.
He let out a shaky breath as he summoned his most convincing expression of horror.
"I-I-I didn't see anything, I'm just the janitor! I didn't mean to—oh my god, what is this?!"
Rye exclaimed as his eyes darted toward the piles of corpses on the ground. He ensured every muscle in his body was trembling and his voice was shaky and one step away from breaking into a stutter.
