Pendulum Chapter 2 and 3

Chapter 2:

Grayson woke up. Damn that alarm. He had set it up himself three days ago in case of an emergency, but had considered it as one of his worst ideas ever since. He got up from his bed, and started putting on the few clothes he’d taken off to sleep.

His room was the cupboard on the fourth floor in the West wing, but it suited him nicely. It had a makeshift bed made from the curtains, and a table made up of several smaller desks, which he used to explain his plans to his lieutenants, along with some chairs and maps.

He put on his trousers, his holsters with it, grabbed his pistols from the table, put them where they belonged, and straightened his leather jacket. He looked at the explosive device on the table, and decided to take it with him. Might come in handy, he thought to himself. It was the only remnant of the supplies they’d found when they’d first gotten here. Back then, Grayson had just been announced the new leader of the Gray Sons, glad to find a place which hadn't been corrupted by the Great Men in the main building. They had planned to camp here for the night, but considering the state of the outside, and the rations inside, decided to stay here, and make it their base of operations.

The Great Men's home base was on the same floor, but on the opposite wing, and ever since, the other two wings separating them had been a no man’s land, except whenever Robb decided to throw more men at them, which they managed to successfully repel each time. They always lost some men, but made sure Robb lost more. This was a battle with no real winners, he thought, but he knew what Robb was getting at. Even though he couldn’t possibly take the base, he did win in some sort of way, diminishing each side’s numbers until none would remain, and this game could be over.

He exited his room, and took a look around. The place hadn't been smashed to bits, so things could have been worse. He saw men run to the corridors that led to the north and south wing. In the middle of things, his first lieutenant Putnam was busy barking out orders. Putnam hadn't been on the best of terms with Grayson in the past, being involved in several fights with him, but after the announcement, Grayson had saved his life, and Putnam had put aside old grudges, and proved himself worthy as a valuable asset.

He approached Putnam, yawning right in his face as he did so. “What time is it?” Grayson asked, while he yawned again. “About 2:30 in the morning.” Putnam responded, while smoking the cigar he’d found a couple of days ago. “Christ, that’s early, or late, depending on your point of view, I suppose. What the hell did they do now?”
“They attacked. What else? On both sides, in fact. We've got the north wing covered, but they've deployed reinforcements in the south wing. Didn't want to wake you at first, but they could use your, shall I say, expertise.” Putnam explained, while blowing smoke in Grayson's face, waking him up ever so slightly.

Grayson coughed, and responded: “Alright then, how many?”
“About 8 or 9, which includes the reinforcements.” “Well, that's not so much though, right?” Grayson responded, while checking his bullets.
“The numbers grow smaller every day, Grayson. They've got about 100 men, and we're barely scraping 70. The more people die, the less are available. I think you're smart enough to figure that out. The dead make for some really bad soldiers.” Putnam replied.

“We've only got 70? I remember when we were 200 men strong. Robb’s going to get what he wants at this rate. Let’s hope we can come up with a plan to off him soon enough or I fear we’re not going to be around much longer.” Grayson noted.
“Does that mean you have an idea?” Putnam suggested.
“I’ve got the start of one, but we’ve got to make it through this first. All I can tell you now is that if we stay here, I’m afraid we might lose this after all.” Grayson pondered, looking around the wing, waving to some soldiers, faking a smile while he did.

Putnam clicked his teeth. “You don’t trust our forces?”
“I do, but I trust the fact that Robb’s just doing this for no real reason other than to speed things up more.” Putnam pointed at Grayson. “You may have a point. We’ll discuss this later. Now go and help our people, or there won’t be anyone left.” Grayson nodded, and headed for the door, as Putnam put out his cigar on the wall, saving the rest for later. “Good luck! Try not to get killed!”

Grayson opened the doors, and proceeded to walk through the hallway connecting the two wings, ignoring the staircases, and approaching the pair of guards overseeing the doors to the east wing. “What are you standing around here for? Shouldn't you guys be fighting?” Grayson asked, while looking at the two.

One of them couldn't have been more than 19, while the other one looked like he was almost graduating. Why things had to go this way, and ruin everybody’s lives, Grayson hoped to understand one day, when he would get some privacy with the dean at the end of all this, like in those dreams he’d been having as of late. But it wasn't the time to think about that, the dean wasn’t currently firing in his direction beyond those doors.

“We were just guarding the door in case they come through here. We were waiting for you.” the youngest one nervously said, while trying to not make eye-contact with Grayson.
“And when would they come through here?” Grayson asked. He wanted to teach them a lesson about courage, even though he knew it wasn't really the time for that. Still, he thought, he could always have a bit of fun before risking his life.

“If all our troops are killed, sir.” the second one responded, saying it as monotone as he could.
“That's true, but if you were fighting over there, right now, don't you think that our troops might have more of a chance to beat them, so that they could never reach this hallway in the first place?”, Grayson retorted, thinking that he caught them with his pants down.

However, the second soldier responded: “We were waiting for you so that we could strike back at full force, sir. If you had never started talking about this, we might have defeated them together by now.” the second soldier responded, as cold as he could.

Crap, Grayson thought, he got me there. This wasn't going to be a good day; his smooth-talking ability had seemingly been getting worse since this mess had started.
“You’ve got a point there. Well then, no point in waiting any longer then, is there? We open the doors on three, and scramble to the nearest cover. Got it?” The two nodded, although the youngest one seemed slightly more nervous than the older one, swallowing so loud Grayson heard it even standing a fair distance away.
“Alright then, One...Two...THREE!”

The moment he slammed the doors open, Grayson felt a bullet sweep past his hair. He fired back and slid to the nearest piece of cover, a table that was thrown on its side. The chairs and tables at the university were made out of metal, so it made sense to use them as cover, which many ended up doing so, although it was a matter of how many bullets the things could handle before letting one through and killing you.

All of the wings consisted of one hallway, which was curved in such a way you couldn't see the door to the adjacent one. All of the classrooms were structured around this hallway, which made some of them a bit curvy instead of four straight walls. It was a design flaw, but a helpful one for gunfights. It made sure that both parties couldn't just fire pot-shots from the doors, keeping things at least a bit interesting. The hallway here, from Grayson's viewpoint, curved to the left, as he peeked over the table to see what he was up against.

It seemed almost all 8 of the Great Men were about 60 feet away. Two were ducking behind a table, while four were each stationed in the entrance of a classroom. One person was lying on his belly, so he could fire from underneath one of the chairs he had ducked behind. The eighth one wasn't anywhere to be found, so Grayson assumed that he was guarding the door.

He looked again, but this time next to him. The youngest soldier was ducking behind the same table, while the older one was standing in the entrance of a classroom left to him. There was someone else in a room to the right, and finally, there was a guy in front, ducking behind another table. It seems that he was stuck there. Next to Grayson was a corpse. He felt the skin, and noticed it was still warm. All the other corpses had probably been dragged into one of the classrooms. This one must have died after the reinforcements came through, he thought, while putting the blame on himself for not arriving sooner, but trying to focus on the battle at the same time, trying to figure out a strategy to win, while another bullet wheezed above his head.

“Uh, sir? You've been peering at them for two minutes now, what are we going to do?” the young soldier next to him asked.
“I've got a plan. When I say go, you run to the classroom to the right. Got it?” Grayson explained to him, partially lying. In reality, it wasn’t as much of a plan as it was improvising to survive slightly longer while trying to get the jump on them. Still, he thought, better than nothing.

He looked over and saw his chance. He fired his gun and hit one of them in the shoulder. He yelled: “Go!” while trying what he came up with.
He pushed the corpse next to him to the left, so that the Great Men would assume he's still alive. All six focused their fire on the corpse, while Grayson and the soldier ran into one of the class rooms, dodging a few bullets, but not nearly as much if the corpse hadn’t been there.

Unfortunately, Grayson hit the soldier standing in the doorway, both tripping as a result, resulting in a fall, but at least safe for now. “Sir? Why did you do that? Now we're all stuck in this class room. We're as good as dead!” the soldier stated, while getting himself on his feet again. “Don't worry, you’ll live. At least, I think so. I might have a way out.” Grayson stated, while taking out the explosive from earlier.
The two others took a step back, while the youngest asked: “An explosive? Where'd you get that? Isn't that extremely dangerous?”
“Yes, our base and yes. This particular sucker has the potential to blow up one of the walls, the note beside it was very clear in its instructions. All I have to do is plant it on that wall there, set the timer and wait until it explodes. Then we go through, get the jump on them, and kill them all. How does that sound? Of course, it could be the instructions were a cruel joke and this blows the whole place sky high, but I’m willing to take my chances. Are you?”

The two looked at each other, with the other one stating: “He’s either completely mad, or a genius.”
“I like to walk the fine line between both. Now then, you ready? It’s not too late to just sit here and die, or taking your chances out there, I guess.” he joked, while planting the explosive on the wall.
“You on my right, and you, on my left, so that’ll make me the center of attention.” The younger one took issue with that. “Sir, doesn’t that make you more likely to die? Shouldn’t we protect you?”
Grayson laughed. “You must be new here. That’s not how I do things. Who am I, Robb? Why do you think I’m here in the first place, to bark orders and stay safe at the sideline? Now listen, we go through and exit via the door. I’ll kill the majority, you boys round up the stragglers. Alright?”
They nodded, and went into formation. Just then, the bomb went off.

Grayson went first, and didn’t pull any punches. Entering the class room he’d just blown a hole into, laughing while he did so, killing the man at the door who had a look of surprise on his face, at least as far as Grayson could see for the split-second he was aiming at him. He pushed the formerly alive man aside, entered the hallway, shot the guy behind the table, and the two at the opposite side in the class rooms, without even breaking a sweat.

The soldier to the left of him killed the one lying on his belly. The younger one to the right finally entered the hallway, only to get shot by the last man in the doorway to the right of them. Grayson immediately turned in his direction and shot him twice. Then it was over.

The whole ordeal hadn't taken any longer than 15 seconds. Grayson looked around to check for more men, but couldn’t find any. It seems that Putnam had been mistaken about his estimation.
“It's okay. You can come out now. Shouldn’t be any left, I think.” Grayson said to the two other soldiers, still hiding behind their cover.
“You actually did it.” the older soldier said, looking at him in disbelief.
“You doubted me? I think two of them are still alive, put them over there. The pair of you, guard the doorway to the East wing. This wi-”

Suddenly, Grayson got cut off by someone storming out one of the class rooms, yelling. He turned around and shot him before the man could even aim his gun. He continued: “Where was I? Oh right, this wing is ours. If someone else is hiding, and you don't have a death wish like that guy, come out now with your hands in the air, and you'll go free.”

He stood there for a moment, waiting, only to see someone come out he never imagined to lay eyes upon again.

Chapter 3:

Drake went through the door scared out of his mind. Entering the hallway with the others, the guy in front of him immediately got shot, while another bullet whooshed past his shoulder, luckily, merely scraping him. Jumping to the nearest piece of cover, a table centered in the hallway, he tried to cover himself from the gunfire coming from the other side. However, three others had gotten the same idea, which made it quite hard for him to be completely in cover behind the small table.

He still had it easier than the others, however, as he’d at least managed to not end up at the ends of the table, where it was even harder to try and stay away from bullets. This fact was only proven by the guy to the left of him suddenly flying backwards, screaming, a tiny hole in his shirt, quickly turning its surroundings red.

Drake saw an opportunity in the man’s demise, as he grabbed his feet, and pulled his corpse towards him. Hoisting him up, he decided a couple of holes more wouldn’t be any worse for him, as he executed his way of hopefully sitting out the battle. He saw the doorway a couple of feet away, and while using the corpse as a method of cover, tried to reach it.

Surprisingly, this worked relatively well, as he entered the empty classroom without too much of a hassle. The corpse had taken more than a few bullets, but none of them had made it through to hit Drake. Dropping it off from him, making a silent thank you at the dead man, he made his way to the furthest corner away from the door, and tried to wait out the fight.

Little happened in the next five minutes, although he heard someone shouting: “He’s here as well!” followed by a lot of gunfire. Separate from that, a man entered the room too, although he didn’t see Drake tucked away in the corner, not even glancing inside. His attention was focused on shooting the other side, mainly using the room to hide his most vital parts, safe for his head.

After about another minute, the wall suddenly exploded. He jumped up in surprise and looked at the hole where there was formerly concrete, only to see three men jumping out of it. They ran straight for the door, not noticing him. Drake couldn’t make out any details in the second he saw them, except that the one in front seemed to be laughing. For the brief glimpse he got, Drake still thought he recognized that face. Was that Grayson?

They ran through the door, shooting the man in the doorway like it wasn’t any big deal, and left, leaving him alone once more. The gunfire continued for a couple of seconds, but then it stopped.

Someone started to speak. He heard the voice, and knew. That was definitively Grayson’s voice. What was he doing here? What the hell was going on here? He still didn't know anything more than when he had woken up, only that the world might have indeed gone to complete hell. He heard him ask if anyone else wanted to come out, and decided it for the best to see if his friend could try to explain to him what had happened, and maybe have a normal conversation.

“Drake? How did you get here? You were dead!” Grayson asked, baffled that his best friend was standing right in front of him.
“Honestly Grayson, I don’t have the slightest clue.” Drake replied, extremely relieved to see a familiar face again. Grayson put away his gun, got off from the chair he’d been standing on, walked towards him, and hugged him with one arm, while using the other to tell his troops to drop their guns.
“Damn, it’s good to see you again. We could have really used you sometimes. I tried going back for you, you know, but the Auditory was a dangerous place to go to, and after the first day, I really figured you must’ve either escaped or died. I’d hoped you made it to the neutral zone or something, but after my agents didn’t give anything on you, I’d pretty much given up. Good to see I was wrong. Just to be clear, would you mind explaining what you’re doing in the middle of my war zone with Robb?”

Grayson let go with his hand, while Drake tried to explain how he’d gotten there, in front of a man who didn’t seem too upset with the gunfight had just happened: “Good to see you too. I literally just woke up maybe fifteen minutes ago. I tried to get the hell out of the building, but one of these guys captured me and forced me to come here. Now, could you tell me what turned the whole place into this?” The soldiers turned towards Grayson, not really buying Drake’s story, as one started aiming his gun back at him. Grayson ignored this, and continued the conversation.
“I'll explain later, there’s time enough back at the camp. Now, by any chance, was it one of these guys who captured you?” Grayson asked, while pointing at the two survivors.

One of them had been shot in the stomach, coughing up the blood, while the other was merely hit in the foot. “Well, two are dead over there, but the left one was also one of them.” Drake said, while pointing at the man who'd been shot in the stomach.
Grayson walked up to the man and asked him: “That a true story?” The man spat at his direction. Grayson punched him in the face.
“I'll take that as a yes.” Grayson went over to Drake, and gave him one of his two guns. “If you want to, you can kill him. Guy's not going to live long anymore anyway, you’ll be doing him a favor.” Grayson noted.

Suddenly, the man guarding the two prisoners started yelling: “Are you crazy, giving him a gun? He was behind enemy lines, what makes you think he isn't one of them? I get it you're friends, but wouldn’t be the first time a friend stabs another in the back, you should know that!”

Grayson responded, looking very angry at the soldier: “You want to know why I trust him? This man has saved my life and others countless of times, and I have returned the favor a couple of times as well. We've helped each other through thick and thin, and stood by each other in times of trouble. This man is the only person in the world I truly trust, and if you don't think he is worthy of joining our cause, then neither are you.” The soldier went quiet and diverted the gaze of Grayson, which was a look of anger Drake had been stared down by too back in the day. The other soldier who’d been holding his gun raised, put it back in his holster, trying not to attract attention.

Drake looked at the gun he'd just been given, and then peered at the man who'd been shot in the stomach. Grayson was right. He had hours at most. He recognized him as the oldest one of the three, who was also the spy in Grayson's army. “So you’ve killed too then?” he asked Grayson.

Grayson averted his look, while the two soldiers looked on at the unfolding scenario. “We all have, Drake.” Drake then glanced at the other two soldiers, who nodded at him, staying quiet. “What about our morals? Our code? What happened to that?” Drake asked while throwing the gun down the corridor.

Grayson couldn’t look Drake in the eye, and to continue not having to do that, walked over to the tossed away gun. “This place isn’t what it used to be Drake. There’s no place for our morals anymore. I promise I’ll explain later, but right now, just understand that.” He picked up the gun, and threw it back at Drake, who caught it, looking in disgust at Grayson. “I’m not going to force you to do anything, but if you don’t want to, I will. He’s got a few hours left at most. And if you knew the rules of the game, you’d get it.”

Drake stared at him in confusion: “What game? What’s left of you, Grayson? You came up with that code, and now you tossed it away in the dirt? I’m not going to kill him.” Grayson sighed, walked up to the man, and shot him through the back of the head. Drake gagged. “This is what’s left of our code, Drake. Boys, take him to the camp, lead him to my room and notify Putnam of our guest. I’ll explain everything to you Drake, but my work here isn’t finished yet. See you in five. Oh, and order Putnam to place some guards here.”

With that, Drake disappeared through the door with the two others, not saying a word, leaving Grayson with his thoughts and the hurt Great Man on the floor.

---

Torturing was never something he was pleased about doing, and yet it had yielded the most results these past few days for him. Still, that didn’t mean it was the right thing to do, but it was the only way to extract intel, although in some way it still felt like he was just pissing on his own ideals. No one else wanted do these things; leave alone could bear the pressure, so it was up to him to do what was immoral, but necessary nonetheless.

Grayson knew he owed Drake some explanations, but he had concluded it was going to be hard enough to explain how they got into this mess, he didn’t even want to start touching on why he abandoned his former promise not to kill, essentially betraying himself. He was also a bit worried about how the other men would treat Drake, as he was pretty much an enemy soldier to them, but trusted in Putnam in taking care of that. With a bit of luck, he could even try calming him down a little.

Putting those thoughts aside, he looked at the man in front of him. He seemed about 21, and was wearing a red coat. For some reason, the Great Men thought that if everyone wore a red garment, it would improve their team spirit. It didn't. Instead, it only made them easier to identify, and kill.

Grayson grabbed a chair, turned it around, and sat down in front of the man on his knees.
“So then, here we are. I think you know how these things are supposed to go. I threaten you, you tell me everything, and you get to go back to that shit heap you call a base. Does that sound good?” Grayson asked, while waving around his gun.

The soldier responded: “Not much to tell. We attacked you. We lost. It happens.”
“But something about it rubs me up the wrong way. You attacked at 2 am. But for what reason? To shake us up? No, you guys also need sleep. So it couldn't be that. To catch us by surprise? No, you know we have guards stationed 24/7. So what remains? A diversion makes the most sense, but for what exactly? I’m sorry, I’m talking too much here, the spotlight should be on you. Please, go ahead.” Grayson rambled, trying to shake some answers loose.

The soldier responded: “It seems to me like you've already got everything worked out. If you’re so good at the guessing game, why not figure it out entirely? You won’t get anything from me. Kill me if you like. It won't help you.”

Grayson faked a worried look. “Well, now you’ve saddened me. I was just hoping you'd tell me everything from the get-go. By the way, that wound in your foot looks bad, but I think, when treated, you should be alright. What if we strike a deal? Here’s an idea, I count to three, and if you don't tell me what I want to know, I'll make sure it won't be treatable.” The soldier smiled. “Empty threats mean nothing. If you really think you can-” Grayson shot him in the leg.

The soldier screamed. “Why did you attack us?” Grayson asked, now yelling over his screams. “To distract you, you fucking bastard!” the soldier cried out in agony. “I got that already, tell me why!” Grayson yelled back.

“You think you're so much better than us, but you know what? You're just as bad as us! The things you do to your prisoners are a thousand times worse than what we do! We execute them, sure, but we don't torture them first! And we know your dirty little secret, that thing you hide on the main floor to secure yourself a secret passage! He's a monster and you know it. And Robb's told me all about you, about your little girlfriend! Just because she died, doesn't mean-”

Grayson shot him again, this time in the other leg. “Do not talk about her, have you got that? Don't even mention her if you want to make it out of here alive! Now tell me, why? Did you? Distract? Us?” Grayson roared out at the top of his lungs, so loud the guards behind the doors could hear him, shifting nervously.

He normally didn't react this way, but daring to talk about her, really got under his skin. “Because we're attacking the neutral zone! Now please, let me go!” the soldier shrieked, crying because of the pain.

Grayson went silent immediately. That was bad news. “The neutral zone? Why? When?” he asked, afraid of the answer.
“We were supposed to attack at 7 in the morning, this was trying to make you think we had our big assault for that day! Robb is looking for the second clue! Now please, just let me go!”

Grayson looked worried. If Robb knew what the second clue was, he could win this game by a long shot. Then he knew what was going to happen today in an instant. He had to get there before him. This’d be the end. But it was going to be a race. He had about four hours until the assault began, and Robb would assure himself of victory.

No time to waste, he thought, and turned his attention back to his prisoner. He got up from his chair, and started to walk away. The soldier pleaded for mercy, and begged for forgiveness.

Grayson turned around, and said: “Sorry to disappoint you mate, but I'm afraid it's the end of the line for you. With those wounds, you'd be dead in the hour. Only five men are you supposed to survive this anyway. You think someone with no legs would win? So you want mercy, I'll give you mercy.” Grayson said, his eyes filled with regret.

The soldier gave one last cry, cursing his name and damning him to hell, as Grayson shot him, silencing his words and disqualifying one more contestant in this game nobody wanted to play, yet everyone wanted to win.

He opened the doors to the West wing, and was welcomed by dozens of people applauding and yelling. He waved, smiled, and shook hands with some people, but he knew it wasn't the time to celebrate. He had to find Putnam.

He found him after searching a couple of minutes, standing at the other end of the hallway, talking to the two soldiers who were guarding the door. Putnam saw Grayson approaching, and almost immediately knew something was wrong. Grayson walked up to him and said: “You, me, my office. Now.” Putnam excused himself from the two soldiers and went with Grayson.

They walked to the door to his office, but noticed a small crowd gathering around them, waiting for something. Putnam sighed, took it upon him, and yelled: “I know that you're all really happy that our leader saved us. However, he is feeling a bit weary at the moment, maybe due to the fact that it's three in the morning for him too. He'll still be here at dawn, so please, feel free to pat him on the back then. Right now, I'd advise you all get some sleep, we've been through a lot and I think that Robb will be keeping his troops close to him right now. So please, sleep with ease tonight. Oh, one more thing, if you're on the notice board, you're doing a night-shift.”

Some people started to groan, while the majority went to the class rooms where they had laid all the blankets for sleeping. “I know, I know, it's a pain. Stand at the board if you are on it, I'll be there in a moment. Goodnight everyone.” Putnam closed, while Grayson gave one final shout: “Goodnight Gray Sons, I’m proud of all of you!” After that, they went through his door, and closed it behind them.

“You're pretty good at speeches, I'll give you that. Maybe you should be the leader. Oh, hey Drake, I'd almost forgotten you were here. Want a drink?” Grayson asked, as he got up from the cabinet in the room, holding a bottle of whiskey and three glasses.

Drake was sitting at the large table, which was actually comprised of several smaller ones, and had a map of the university on it. “No thanks, I'd rather be sober at 3 am in the morning.” Drake responded, while putting the empty glass on the table. “Good move, more for us.” Putnam laughed, while he started to drink.

“We found it in one of the dorms, and decided the owners wouldn't need it anymore. It's one of the cheaper brands, but hey, beggars can't be choosers. That and whatever lets us sleep at night.” Grayson explained, as he drank from his glass. “I guess I owe you an apology for earlier. Sorry. But I said I’d give you answers. I’ll start at the beginning, right? We can discuss my morals later, I’m not nearly drunk enough for that right now.” Drake nodded. “It’s alright. Putnam kind of explained how it works here. It’s necessary for survival. I mean, when we made our code, I don’t think this was a scenario we’d thought of. So then, the beginning?”

Grayson smiled at his friend. Just because it’s necessary doesn’t make it right. He was glad this wasn’t going to be some big discussion, but the feeling of betraying himself didn’t disappear. He could however, choose to ignore it for now, putting it away in a box for later, hoping it wouldn’t burst open at a bad time. But he was digressing. “Right then, well, your memory phased out right at the dean right? Well, let’s see if Putnam and yours truly can try to recollect what exactly he had said. It started out like this…”

“Hello there everyone! Who missed me?” the dean shouted to a full crowd. He was nervous, but he couldn't allow himself to show it. Everything had been painstakingly prepared for months now, and he couldn't screw it up.

The security cameras had been placed, as well as the microphones, and the guns had been carefully placed in the ceiling, so they could drop down when the time was right. But most importantly, the bombs had been placed.

He'd gone through a lot of trouble for this, and hoped that it'd be worth it. All he had to do was to find five men worthy enough of seeing this thing through, and find his little experiment. But those were worries for another day.

It had been a year since the man had come to visit him with knowledge beyond his own understanding, and now it was up to him to pass forth that knowledge, and hope for the best. The man wouldn’t let him down. He was sure of that, at least.

He turned himself to the crowd again, and started his speech he'd spent months preparing. “I know that you are all here asking questions. What was he doing in the past year? What is this gathering? Well, don’t worry, your answers are coming soon enough. I have spent these past months preparing a little contest. Well, little is bit of an underestimation. Everyone here will participate, and in the end, there will be five of you who'll emerge victorious. These five will receive 100.000 dollars each.”

The crowd started to get a little uneasy. He’d foreseen this. “The game is simple really. A free for all. Everyone here shall receive a pistol when this speech is finished. These pistols are filled with live ammunition. More ammo and other goodies are stored everywhere in the university. And there may be a few surprises along the way as well. If you wish to leave, however, you cannot. I have sealed the gate personally, and there will be no one coming for you. I have trapped you here, and the only way to get out of here alive is to play my game.”

Everyone started to get really nervous now. Some people were standing up and heading for the door. “Please don't, the doors are sealed until I am finished. The pistols will drop and you will be free to leave. I have one more thing to say though. I have spread three clues around the property, one in each building. These may help you to survive this game, and find out why it is happening. There is a purpose to this plan, and the clues will help you figure out what Phase 2 is. Good luck everyone, and I'll see the lucky five when this is finished.”

With those last words, he pulled the lever on the stage. A trap door opened beneath him and he fell through. At the same time, the doors unlocked, and the pistols fell from the ceiling. While sliding down, he felt nothing at all for those who would be killed in his plan. His cause was just, these sacrifices necessary, and it would all get revealed, and pay off, in due time.

“Safe to say everything went a bit crazy at that moment. Some were still trying to figure out what the hell he meant, while others instantly grabbed a gun and started firing. Some ran to the doors, in hopes of finding better luck there, while others ducked under their chairs. Kylie ran outside. I stayed, and ducked under my chair. You however, didn’t get to choose, because the person beside you had grabbed a chair to try and defend himself. Unfortunately, you weren’t looking at him, and in his range. He knocked you out. After the commotion, I tried waking you up, but you were hurt pretty bad.” Grayson explained, while pouring himself and Putnam another drink.

“I honestly can't believe it. Why would he do something like that? For what purpose?” Putnam responded: “Your guess is as good as ours, kid. We haven't gotten any closer to finding out the what’s and whys. Tell him about the clues, Grayson, my throat's a bit parched.”

Grayson frowned at him, and continued: “Ah, the clues, well unfortunately, there isn't much to tell. The first clue was a note, which was unfortunately burned by someone who was totally bonkers. He had this thing about burning things, remember him, Putnam? He ended up burning himself to death, so that was a dead end. The second clue is in the neutral zone, formerly known as the cantina and the gym. Frank, the leader there, has it stored in his safe, and no one except him knows what it is. The third one is in the library, but everyone who's tried to search for it, has never been seen or heard from again.”

“The cantina a neutral zone? How did that happen?” Drake asked, still having a difficult time swallowing the reality of the situation. Putnam grabbed the bottle and poured himself another drink, and explained: “Well, we didn't take as bad to the news as you guys. We suggested a peaceful approach, and decided that it would be the best if we waited it out. We gathered all the guns, appointed a leader, guards, living quarters, and hell, even a bar. Things have been running pretty smoothly over there, even with the whole 'impending doom' thing going on. I was there during that whole ordeal, could've even been the leader of the guard, but no, I had to go out and find adventure. Look where that brought me.”

“Speaking of that, how did you get here? How did Grayson become the leader of an army?” Drake asked, reconsidering the offer of booze, and starting to pour himself a drink.

“Well, that was thrill ride, I can tell you that. So there I was, ducked underneath my chair, alone and forsaken by fate and by men, when the gunfire stopped. Everyone who was gun-ho had either left or was dead on the floor. I was the one to break the silence. I made everyone who was ducking under a chair agree we wouldn't blow each other to bits. I succeeded, and we formed an alliance. Strength in numbers, you know? Now, I wasn't the original leader, that honor belonged to Jesse, he was a strapping big bloke, remember him, Putnam? A puppet for me, actually, but I enjoyed ruling from the shadows far more. We went outside and tried to scavenge whatever we could. Long story short, he got killed for a reason I’m not too keen on sharing, and I became our new leader. And we've been doing alright ever since, if I say so myself. There’s more to it, but is that enough info to satisfy you right now?” Grayson asked, taking a look at the half-empty bottle.

Drake responded: “I think I'm alright for now. I still have some more questions, but I think that this has been enough to swallow for one day.” Putnam lit his cigar, and said: “Well, the reminiscing has been fine and dandy, but I have a feeling that's not what you called me in for. What's the problem Grayson? I know that look, there's something wrong, so you better not lie.”

Grayson shifted awkwardly in his seat, and asked Drake: “Drake, could you leave for a bit if you wouldn't mind? I'm sorry, but Putnam and I have some things to discuss. Classified stuff.”
Drake looked at him, and said: “Yeah, sure man, no problem. I'll wait outside. But this is coming with me.” He grabbed the bottle of whiskey, and went outside, closing the door behind him.

“So then, what's the problem? Should I hold on to my chair?” Putnam asked, smoking his cigar. Grayson looked worried, and told him: “The guy I interrogated. He had some really alarming news to report.” “Well then, fess up, what was it?” Putnam asked. “Robb's attacking the neutral zone.” Grayson confessed.

Putnam spat out his cigar and looked Grayson in the eye. “You've got to be kidding me? If that's true, then that's the end for us, you do realize that, right? Are you sure he wasn't lying?” Putnam asked, looking dead serious now. He usually had an area of goofiness around him, which is probably why Grayson liked him so much. The people Grayson could appreciate the most were the ones he saw himself most in. But now it was gone. He'd never seen him with such a face, except maybe when they first met after the catastrophe.

Grayson responded: “He had no reason to lie. He was telling the truth. But don't worry, I've got a plan. At least a concept.” Putnam stood upright, while Grayson kept sitting, putting both his legs on the table. “And what is this plan? When is the attack happening? Is he also searching for the second clue?” Putnam asked Grayson, picking up his dropped cigar and starting to smoke once more.

“The attack is happening at around 7 am, which still gives me about 4 hours to get over there and at least warn them. And unfortunately, yes, he is searching for the second clue. And for god's sake, would you at least open a window if you're going to keep smoking!” Grayson yelled.

“I don't think smoking is the biggest issue here! And after you warn them, what are they going to do? Defend their home? Most of those people don’t even know how to use a gun! Also, side note, they'll never believe you. They think they’re safe in their ivory tower, no one would buy it. We're screwed. If he takes over the neutral zone, he's got enough food for a whole month! We'll be starving to death, while he'll sit there in that fucking penthouse! And don't even get me started on that second clue...” Putnam yelled, while opening the window.

Half the property could probably hear him by now, Grayson thought. “Okay, fine then, I won't warn them. I'll do something else. I've got 4 hours buddy, I can do loads in that time! I sneak over there, burn the supplies, snatch the second clue, and get out before he even considers that I might be there! What do you think?” Grayson asked, looking more hopeful by the second.

He enjoyed this far more than he should. He knew he shouldn't, but that made it even better. He felt bad for the people who’ve died, but right now, he felt like he could take on the world, outsmart anyone. Somewhere, beyond his guilt, he felt like he was born to do this. On one hand, this gave him even more conflicted feelings, but not right now. It felt right. He’d been thinking about his psyche for too long, because Putnam slammed the table to get his attention back.

“Do you honestly think that will work? I've got a fucking laundry list why it won't. One, if you want to sneak over there, you're going to have to go through the west wing door, and face that bastard again. Two, the supply cabin is probably going to be guarded up the ass. Three, you don't even know where the second clue is. Four, what do you think the odds are going to be it's guarded?”

Grayson looked at him, and lost it. He screamed: “Well, if you've got a better idea, I'd be delighted to hear it!” He leaned over the table, now face-to-face with Putnam. He wasn't that angry, but he had learned that shouting made him seem more imposing. This wasn’t even his loudest. Putnam leaned back, went over to smoke by the window, and shrugged. “You're right. I don't. But my points still stand. How are you going to fix all that?”

Grayson sat back down, and said: “I've got some ideas. I have an insider at the neutral zone, she's been looking for the clue for almost three days now. She must've found something. I'll distract the guards at the supply closet, burn it, and use the fire as another distraction for the guards who are at the clue. But before all that, I'm going to kill that son of a bitch at the West Wing door.”

Putnam looked up and responded: “Alright, I'll give it to you, it's starting to sound better, but how exactly are you going to kill him? You do know that he may have got a bomb which could blow up the entire complex, right?”
“I'm working on that. Now, do I have your permission to go through with my plan?” Grayson asked, hoping that the answer would be yes.

They'd both agreed to not take any actions unless the two agreed on the issue. A stupid rule, according to both, but a necessary one, as it kept them in check. Putnam threw his cigar out the window and went back over to the table. “Even though it's bat shit insane, I'm going to agree. Now then, how many men are you sacrificing for your little endeavor?”

Even though he realized everyone's lives were at stake, Grayson still got a smile on his face. He knew this was going to work. It had to. He thought for a moment, and then responded: “I'll need about four able men to guard the west wing after we killed the fucker, a member from the Supreme Squad as bait, and two more to accompany me to the neutral zone, and help me out there.”

The Supreme Squad was a group filled with people who didn't care about their lives anymore, so they took the most dangerous missions that ended up with them dying more often than not. Grayson had been inspired from a team from a marvel comic book for the name. Some of them had a big red S on their chest, for differentiation, and so the enemy knew they were up against men with nothing to lose, as an intimidation technique. Those were only the original members, however, not the newer ones.

Putnam thought about it for a second, and responded: “That could be arranged, I'll bring them in five minutes. One more thing, could you take that Drake fellow with you?” Grayson looked surprised Putnam mentioned him. “Why would I do that? You can take care of him, right?” Grayson asked.

Putnam responded: “The men are on edge, Grayson. We found out that one of the guys you killed was someone who was seen here regularly. He was a spy for Robb. Now, to leave someone here who was up until recently an enemy, might put them even more on edge, get it?” Grayson nodded in agreement. “You're right, I'll take him with me then. So, case closed?” Putnam nodded and headed for the door.

He opened it, only to find Drake falling into the room. “Were you listening in on us?” Putnam asked. “Well, to be fair, you didn't make it very difficult. Robb could probably hear you from here. And don't worry Grayson, I'm in. I'll go with you to the neutral zone.”

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