Misunderstandings are a simple part of life, except they aren't actually simple. Misunderstandings can range from minor consequences like getting the wrong kind of ice cream for a birthday party, to throwing a poison dart at a figure that you thought was one person but was actually another.

You have likely read Chapters Four, Five, and Six and know what's coming up. If you haven't, read those. Or better yet, don't read the rest of this at all.

But it was a simple misunderstanding. I assumed the trio going to the fire starter building were fire starters.

So my reaction when I punched Klaus Baudelaire was to be expected.

Klaus staggered back, recoiling from the punch I had delivered to his jaw.

"K-Klaus?" "Lemony?" "What the hell?"

Those were said by me, Duncan, and Klaus respectively, a word here meaning 'in that order'.

"I-I'm sorry, I thought you were fire—wait." I started to apologize, before realizing what they had done. "You all tricked me." I said in realization, as the three kids had pulled the wool over my eyes, a phrase here meaning 'the three children had followed me in secret trying to find Violet as well'. Honestly though, had the roles been reversed and Jacques and Kit were in danger, I would have done the same. I couldn't blame the children.

"We had to. You can't do this alone." Klaus said, rubbing his jaw. I felt very guilty, but they didn't seem quite mad.

"So, this is where Violet is, right?" Klaus asked me, hope in his eyes.

"There's no other headquarters they could hide her in."

So, with that, we went inside. Of course, we had to be very careful. I didn't imagine they would want to use the air vents, but I had to ask.

"So, should we go through the air ven-"

"No." Isadora and Duncan said, likely due to some form of claustrophobia from being in a cage and then a red herring statue than a water fountain, and Klaus didn't need to say anything, as he was most certainly not going to punish his friends more than needed. That's what friends are for.

So we walked, silently and carefully. The high abundance of printers made things easy, of course. They were old printers, and the whirring and clicking was annoying, a word which here means 'me and the children couldn't have had a conversation if we wanted to'.

Finally, we made it to a dark room at the very back, labelled 'Head Reporter'. Underneath this logo however was a V.F.D. logo, so we stepped inside. Inside was a normal office, barring the V.F.D. carpet along the floor. We pulled up the carpet to find a secret entrance into a secret headquarters.

We stepped inside, and we knew Violet had to be nea—

With that, a bloodcurdling scream rang out. Violet .

Klaus' eyes hardened, and he rang down the hallway, seeking out his sister. We followed him, me being right behind, the Quagmires a step behind, as we went through the remarkably clean and polished headquarters. It reminds me of Stain'd-by-the-Sea in fact. A dark feel of order, two feelings and tones that don't often mesh well.

It was only a few minutes when we heard a voice.

"Do it, darling." A woman's voice said. The voice sounded familiar, but it didn't matter yet.

Klaus turned around. "Who are you? Where's Viole-"

If you have been in a great deal of near-fatal experiences like I have, which I seriously hope you haven't, but you have my deepest condolences if you have, you know that ominous feeling when something is very, very wrong. Whether you have this feeling because you suspect someone is about to die, a terrible betrayal is about to occur, or a trap is right around the corner, this feeling feels the same, making it truly impossible to use it to your advantage.

I am very, very sorry to inform you all three happened at once. A betrayal had already occurred in a form, Klaus fell into a trap then and there, and a terrible death was about to occur.

Klaus fell to the ground, a bullet having been shot into his shoulder. Out from the shadows stepped two figures.

One figure was a tall woman with shiny green eyes, question mark eyebrows, and jet black hair. I should have been more scared to see this person, if not for the second person.

Violet Baudelaire. With a cruel grin on her face, and a smoking gun in her hand.