sheer | Machiavellian | soar

My eyes focused off his sudden Machiavellian smile and onto a growing reflection on the window behind him. With his snide, British accent came the last words I heard, "You never con a con-man," as the figure in the reflection slipped a sheer bag around my head and knocked me out.

"Wakey wakey. It's time to soar." I opened my eyes in time to see the ground rushing towards me.

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