"Halt! Hands in the air!" one of them shouted.
"What the hell?" Wheatman couldn't help but blurt out.
His hand instinctively reached for his weapon. This unexpected intrusion caught him off guard.
At the same time, his keen eyes quickly scanned the attire of the individuals who had stormed into the room.
The military uniform. That's what they are wearing.
Since they were on the same side as him, Wheatman felt relief washed over him.
Now that he looked again, he had seen the one in the middle.
'Isn't he the one who received a medal a few months back? What was his name again? Wil...Wilnot? Willot? No, no, no. I think it's Wilmot.' he thought, recalling the prestigious event held in the capital before.
"I said hands in the air!" Wilmot's stern voice cut through the tension in the office as he repeated his command once more.
Apparently, they didn't manage to recognise him and even found his presence suspicious.
