Chapter 19

    “Where are you headed?”
    Elise had made it halfway around the perimeter of the circle of electronics when a burly man wearing a plate carrier and dressed in black stepped out of the circle and blocked her path. He was bald, had a thick barrel chest and large arms that looked like he could crack watermelons just by flexing. Elise stood as straight as she could, and gestured vaguely behind the man. It was hard to discern his expression, but Elise could make out that he was not pleased. Or he just didn’t have enough coffee.
Elise said. “I am heading over to talk with Delta Leader Lance.”
    The man moved a little bit closer, so close Elise could’ve smelled his breath. Elise gave the towering man an equally as scrutinizing gaze. At first Elise thought the man knew she was bluffing, as if she could read her intentions. But then the man looked over Elise’s shoulder and then snapped his gaze back down to Elise.
    “Very well, then,” the big man said after a pause of examining Elise’s eyes. “I won’t keep you long.”
    “Thank you, sir,” Elise said brusquely and turned away. She didn’t look back as she finished her arc around the circle in the foyer and headed a straight line to the hall opposite her. As she grew closer to the opening the corridor to the exhibit, Elise felt the Medallion underneath her clothes rise in temperature. It felt like someone had suddenly stuffed a heated curling iron down her chest.
    She looked down, pulling out the Medallion for her to see. The coin’s edge were tainted with a faint purple color. A color she had never seen before. Elise frowned down at it. In all her years of having the Medallion she had never seen her coin like this before. She looked behind her. The large man that had momentarily stopped her had assumed his quarters inside the circle. He wasn’t even looking at her. Instead, he was busy typing away on a small, undersized keyboard next to an even smaller monitor screen. He looked really cramped in there, with the lack of space. Elise turned back around, facing the hallway. She looked at her gold coin again. Except, it wasn’t gold anymore. The Medallion had changed color. It was a sickly purple hue mixed with a deep shade of indigo. She didn’t recognize the color, the new unexpected color causing her to falter for a split second.
    “Elise?”
Elise stopped in her tracks, just at the edge of the hallway. Lance’s voice made Elise look up. The man’s face was contorted into a pained expression, and his voice didn’t have its usual confident tone. It sounded strained, as if someone was pressing an iron bar against his neck. He moved towards her, hands hanging loose at her sides. Elise stepped back, keeping equal distance in between herself and Lance.
“Lance,” Elise snapped, looking behind her then looking back at the Delta leader. “How did you-?”
Lance frowned at her, his shoulders slumped slightly, twitching once every second like a fish dangling on a fisher’s hook.
     He muttered, “You shouldn’t. . . you’re not-don’t. . .”
     His face contorting into a pained grimace, Lance stumbled to the side, his mouth twisting into a snarl, then into a frown.
     “Not. . . safe,” Lance growled, his facial expressions switching from anger to fear then back to anger. The pain in his eyes as he looked at Elise held the true meaning of his words.
     Lance mumbled dejectedly. “Medraut. . . control!” Lance scrunched his face into an expression of helplessness before a dark shadow passed over his brows. His eyes became vacant. His lips curled back like a rabid dog. He reached behind his back, and pulled out his hand cannon. Elise held up her hand, willing Lance to drop his weapon, willing the weapon to lock and freeze. She willed for whatever that was possessing him to exit his body. She could sense the dark strands, the malevolent curls of energy that wound around him. She sensed it like a cold breeze against her fingers. But the split second she did, she knew her efforts were being subverted. Being transferred and sent through Lance. None of what she was doing was having any effect on him, or the evil darkness that clouded Lance’s mind. The dark strands were controlling him.
     Lance brought up his large pistol and pointed directly and Elise’s head. He hesitated slightly, his finger a millimeter’s length away from the trigger.
     Elise backpedaled, then broke into a run. She could hear Lance shout out from behind her.
     “No! It’s. . . trap!”
     Elise looked back and ducked far to her left and down, barely avoiding the bullet that sped through the chamber of Lance’s pistol. It zipped by her ear, smashing into the wall next to her. Shards of drywall dusted her as she ran through the small, momentary mist of white. She stumbled, her left foot tripping over her right.  Elise dug her feet into the marble, feeling herself dash across the slick surface. The she ran headlong into Medraut.

                        
     ~~~

    Sean woke up to a splitting headache. Maybe it was his imagination, but he swore that it felt like his eyes had pointed in opposite directions from his nose. He blinked, the image his eyes deciphered a blurry mass of black on white. Once his vision had cleared, two barrels of a gun slowly merged to make one, pointed directly at the middle of his forehead.
    At the end of the barrel was a full helmet visor staring blankly back at him. Sean slowly sat up, not knowing if he should even try and disarm the gun. No. Who was he kidding? He would only get himself shot, and he wouldn’t even know why. Sean’s head was too busy aligning the pieces of memory that jumbled in his skull.
    One moment he was conversing with Elise and her suspicions about Medraut, and then the next he was waking up with a gun to his head. How had he gotten on couch? He didn’t remember falling asleep. He was laying down on one of the brown leather seats in the lobby. One foot on the ground, the other straddling the armrest. Sean raised his head and surveyed his surroundings. The conclave of white tables and electronics and computers were still cluttering the intersection of the hallways. Sean focused on the man behind the gun barrel that was pointed at Sean’s head. There was another man to Sean’s right, dressed identically to the man holding the shotgun.
    “Get up,” rasped a rough, husky voice at the end of the gun barrel. “I said, get up!”
    The gun barrel was so close to his face it nearly touched the tip of Sean’s nose.
“What the-” Sean sputtered as two other men in ballistic vests stepped from behind the gunman and hoisted Sean off his feet and into the air. Sean’s head swam and bobbed and pitched in his rocky ascension to his feet. The two men were large and husky, perfect images of two professional football quarterbacks. Sean’s head lolled back, but he straightened his neck, his heavy eyelids flapping up and down. His toes floated a few inches off the ground.
    The me that carried Sean didn’t say anything as they hauled Sean upright into the middle of the semicircle of tables and chairs. Sean wanted to say something, burst out yelling, but his mouth felt like it was sewn shut. His tongue was rendered a useless piece of cloth in his mouth. Although he couldn’t speak, Sean’s eyes were perfectly fine, and what he saw sent his heart plummeting.
    Captain Medraut stood in a tight knit group of his military buddies and sitting beside him was Elise. She was tied to a chair.
    Sean tried to yell, to scream, but nothing worked. He couldn’t even mumble Elise’s name. She was slumped in the chair, unmoving, her chest barely rising. Blood coated the side of her head, and her Medallion was nowhere to be seen. Sean met the eyes of Medraut, and what he saw there made his heart clench in fear. Fear, terror, and depression clinched Sean’s soul in a death grip. It was similar to looking into the Angel’s mask. Except Medraut’s eyes were also filled with a calm serenity, like that of a sadistic man about to kill vermin. Taking pleasure in the kill. It was a look of a nonchalant, cold hearted person that enjoyed death.
The captain’s eyes were ominously dark, his pupils nearly taking up most of the white in his eyes. Beside the captain stood Lance, his pupils just as dilated as Medraut’s.
    Sean wriggled in the arms of his captors, but in their grip, he couldn’t move an inch. Sean squinted, looking closely at Lance’s face. Instead of his regular passive expression, he looked uncomfortable. Constrained. Lance’s face was frozen in a perpetual expression of a grimace.
    Medraut grinned a wolfish smile, his chin slightly tilted to look up at Sean.
    “Nice of you to join us, plunger boy.”
    Sean tried wriggling in the grasp of the men that held him, but again they gripped his arms tight, four vice clamps restraining him fast in mid-air. Medraut nodded to his muscle men and they set him down, but they still had full control over where Sean could and could not move. The young custodian tried balling his hands into fists, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t move a finger while the two men on each side gripped his wrists and biceps. Sean tried to speak, but he found his voice wasn’t working either.
    The captain stepped up to Sean, and the young janitor could see that Medraut’s left finger was twitching slightly, moving in a ‘W’ pattern on his palm.
    “I’ll release your mouth, only if you promise to converse intelligently with me.” The captain said, his youthful face exerting the expression of a disgruntled forty-year old man. “The last thing I need now is dull discourse.”
    Sean swallowed and nodded slowly, and as he did, he could feel an invisible clamp holding slacken and disappear.
    “Now, then,” Medraut began in a smug tone. “What do you think?” He waved his hand to Elise and Lance. Lance stood as a mute stature, blank eyes staring forward, lifeless. Elise lay slumped in her chair with her chin on her chest, her body held to the chair by some invisible force. Both of his friends still, both of them looking like they had one foot in the grave. They were just six feet away, but Sean felt like an ocean was in between them.
    The young custodian cleared his throat and glared at Medraut defiantly.
    “Where’s Trys? And Percy? Where’s Smyth!”
    Medraut scoffed and laughed, an all-in-one snort that began at the back of his throat and exited through his nostrils. “What? You actually care about them? These people,” the captain pointed a finger at Elise, then at Lance. “these people that you’ve barely spent a day with, you care so much for them already?” Medraut shook his head, leaning in close to the custodian.
     “You’re just a naive little boy, lost in a world of magic-a world that he hasn’t even begun to figure out. You want to know where your ‘friends’ are? That scamp named Trys ran away the moment she saw danger on the horizon! Percy took the old man someplace, off to hide in one of his many rat holes in this depository, I don’t really care. If they act like vermin, might as I well gas them as such.”
    He turned away from Sean and towards Elise and Lance, gesturing at them with a flick of his hand. Lance’s expression was still in perpetual agony, in much more pain than before. Elise’s body shuddered, but she didn’t wake. Medraut stepped in front of Sean’s vision of them, his pale face masked in an unreadable expression.
    “If you care so much about them, then what was my point of capturing these two, then?” the captain sighed, twiddling the fingers in his left hand, causing Lance to double over in a fetal position, retching on the floor. The captain turned around, a wide grin cracking his porcelain features. He said. “I guess there’s no use in keeping them. The big one will have to go first-” Medraut crossed his index and middle finger slowly on his left hand. Lance, already buckling over, toppled to the floor, retching. A torrent of dark and bright colors spewed forth from his mouth. Black fluid mixed with cups and cups of bile, stomach fluid, and a thick, discolored paste. With a loud wet slap, it slapped onto the floor, the congealed mass spreading across the floor. Lance’s eyes rolled up in his sockets, only his whites shown.
    Sean lurched forward, but the strong grip of two hands on his shoulders prevented him from moving.
    “Stop! Stop it! You’re killing him!” Sean shouted, but soon his mouth was sewn up again by the invisible strands of magic at Medraut’s fingertips. The captain grinned maliciously at Lance, switching his gaze back at Sean.
    “Oh, don’t worry, boy,” Medraut whispered. “He won’t die. He’s just in a lot of pain right now. Aren’t you, Lance?” Medraut tweaked his pinky, and Lance suddenly arched his back into a painful ‘U’ shape, the back of his head nearly touching his heels. The Delta leader collapsed onto the floor. Sean felt his stomach roil inside of him just by staring at Lance.
Sean’s jaw muscles worked as he watched Medraut smile a sick, wild eyed expression at Lance’s agony.
“You were always the favorite, weren’t you?” Sean heard the captain mutter softly at the man he was torturing lay on the floor. Lance writhed on the ground, one hand on his stomach and the other clawing at the ground in a vain attempt to stop the pain that seethed underneath his skin.
Medraut continued, his eyes taking on a dangerous gleam that sparked as he muttered. “Black magic takes an enormous a toll on the receiver if he is not properly protected with the right wards. It is extremely painful, as you can see. . .” Medraut cocked his head, taking a mild fascination in Lance’s agony. The Delta leader whimpered, black goop oozing out of the corner of his mouth. The captain mused, “It may be pure pain for the receiver, but for me. . . it is ecstasy.”
After several seconds of self indulgence in Lance’s groans, Medraut stopped flexing his right forefinger. The captain’s chest heaved as he licked his lips. Medraut glanced over at Sean.
    “Sorry about that,” Medraut apologized, with absolutely no remorse in his voice. “I really do hate preventing the inevitable.”
    “You’re sick,” Sean shook his head, wrathful eyes lighting on Medraut. If it weren’t for the two body builders holding him back, it would take only five seconds for Sean to tear apart the evil captain.
    “And you’re quite the hero, aren’t you?” Medraut’s eye flashed, his gaze pointed at Lance unconscious on the floor in front of him. “You think you’re special, Sean? Do you really think that saving your family from the Angel of Death was so important?” Medraut’s nose right in Sean’s face. Sean tried to find strength to headbutt the leering captain, but he couldn’t. His neck was held fast by an invisible hand. The captain grinned, seeing the resistance in Sean’s eyes. Medraut said, “It doesn’t matter that you’ve saved them from my little pet. He was useful for a few centuries, but his sanity wore out in the end. I was surprised he had lasted this long anyway.” Medraut drew back, shrugging his shoulders and raising his hands.
The captain said. “Their lives are forfeit as I speak. My men are combing these walls, and they will find your mother and your sister. They will.”
“No,” Sean whispered hoarsely. “You won’t.”
Medraut stared at the young custodian for a second, then tilted his head. “Yes, they will. Unfortunately you won’t be here to see them die. You see, I’m not like the Angel of Death, keeping my adversaries alive long enough for them to kill me. I’m not into that kind of theatrics.” Medraut raised his hand, his teeth showing in a lipless grin. His fingers closed into a ‘C’ shape, then began curling slowly. Medraut gazed into Sean’s face.
Sean felt his throat clamp up, but not from the fear that welled in his chest. He felt a cold, icy hand begin to strangle him, thin wisps of immaterial fingers wrapping around his neck and squeezing like an anaconda around its prey. Sean blinked hard, his eyes beginning to bulge. Medraut’s grin grew wider, his eyes focused on Sean. The captain’s right fist was choking the air, but in fact, he was choking Sean.
The young custodian gurgled, breathing became impossible, his vision began to darkne. The captain looked on and simply said, “Goodbye, Sean Knite.”
    Sean felt the cloud of darkness encircle him. No! He couldn’t die! He refused to. If he died, then everyone he knew would too. His mother. His sister. Elise. Lance. Smyth, Percy and Tryss. Sean couldn’t allow that to happen-he wouldn’t. Sean pushed with his mind as well with the muscles of his neck against the force of pressure being applied to his throat. He caught resistance, then was able to breathe. The dark cloud faded away slightly. Medraut frowned, then grunted in surprise, his hand shaking slightly as he tried to squeeze his half-curled finger closer to his palm. Sean’s eyes were wide, so wide they felt like they were about to pop out of their sockets. A low growl emanated from the pit of Sean’s throat, and Medraut’s eyebrows rose suddenly. The captain stepped forward, inspecting the hateful gaze in Sean’s eyes. The custodian pushed harder, his eyes on Medraut. For a second it was just the two of them, Sean and Medraut. The captain, the strangler. Sean being strangled. Then Medraut released his grip, taking half a step back, panting. And smiling.
    “Wow! Just, wow!” the captain exclaimed suddenly, chuckling. “You’re one strong mongrel, Knite! You really are. I like that! I like that. . .”
    Medraut put his hands on his sides, shaking his head. Somehow, the captain’s sudden new interest made Sean’s stomach churn like butter. Sean found that his mouth was still sealed tight, his ability to speak still hindered. But he could breathe. He was still alive. For now. Sean promised himself he had to keep it that way.
    “You know, boy, there hasn’t been many men to break my death grip.” Medraut’s hand kept Sean’s mouth shut. But the young custodian shot hot air out of his nostrils, his eyes wide and filled to the brim with anger. The captain chuckled, looking at Sean. A sadistic grin spreading his lips, revealing a canine smile. “If you think you can resist me magically, then maybe I need to teach you a little lesson, then, won’t I?”
    Sean grunted a muffled response, a constricted sound vibrating in his chest and neck.
    “Oh, what? You wish to speak?” The captain cocked his head, a look of dangerous fascination in his eyes.
    Sean stared hard at Medraut; no reaction, just three long seconds of staring with contempt at the captain.
    Medraut chuckled, looking at the two guards that held Sean in place. The captain said. “The young gun wants to speak his mind.”
    Medraut punched Sean in the gut, expelling all the air from his lungs. Wheezing through his nose, his mouth sewn shut with invisible thread, Sean coughed. Medraut let out a bark of gleeful laughter, then said, “Sorry, couldn’t hear that.” Medraut’s second punch was a right hook that connected with Sean’s left cheek. Directly under the scrape on his temple from the rooftop. Sean’s head was flung back by the impact of the captain’s fist and he heard joints popping in the back of his neck and felt all his teeth shake in his mouth. Sean couldn’t hold back a muffled scream that never exited his mouth. He screamed and groaned and mumbled curses at the captain, who just looked on, a smirk plastered on his face.
Medraut said. “You like that? You do, don’t you? You know what they say-” the captain elbowed Sean in the midsection, right in his solar plexus. Sean wasn’t able to crumple into a ball because of how straight he was held by the two men at each of his side. He could feel his lungs inflate slowly, pain coming with the fresh oxygen that Sean hungered for so deeply. But with that fresh air came more and more pain. It was under his skin on his cheekbone. It slithered in his gut. It entered his lungs as he drew in slow, intermittent breathes through his nose, grunting as he did so.
“You see?” the young captain said, gesturing with both hands at the straightening custodian. “This kid just loves punishment. The more he comes back, the more he wants.” Medraut raised his fist, ready to pummel it into Sean’s head, and brought it down. Sean flinched away at the last second, preparing all his tendons for the oncoming blow. It didn’t come. Opening his eyes and glancing at the captain, Sean looked into the ruthless gaze of Medraut.
“You, Sean, are just like your father.” The captain rubbed both his hands, inspecting his knuckles. Sean felt his mouth was no longer held shut. He licked his lips slowly, staring at the captain. Medraut fed off pain and agony. That much was evident. If there was one way to go about at least freeing Elise and Lance, it would be through calm decisions and thought out plans.
Sean wasn’t Percy. He couldn’t formulate hostage rescue missions in fifty minutes or less. Sean didn’t have Lance’s strength or his mind blowing gun. Nor did Sean have Elise’s magical medallion that could pretty much do anything imaginable. All Sean had was himself and his wits. With or without magic, Sean was going to have to get him and his friends out of the mess they were in. Then he would have to come back for his family. They were still in danger. His mother and sister were sitting ducks. Sean prayed that he would reach them in time before Medraut’s men found them. Sean decided to do the only thing that he could do.
Stall for time.
For how long, Sean hadn’t thought that far yet. He just prayed that Medraut would make a mistake. Then an opportunity would rear its gracious head.
The young custodian kept his voice low, but the steel he embedded in his voice cut the air in between Sean and Medraut.
    “Your game-whatever it is-it’s going to fail.”
    Medraut raised a mocking eyebrow. The captain nodded, raising both eyebrows. “Oh, is that so? I can hear the anger in your voice, but the thing is, for that statement to ring true. . .” Medraut stepped back to where Elise sat. Medraut whispered. “You have to make me believe you.” The captain reached over and pulled Elise’s head back by yanking her hair, and Sean saw that her eyes were wide open. But they were unfocused; a limitless stare into infinity, glazed over like a mesmerized fish.
    “What’s wrong with her?” Sean asked. Captain Medraut grinned, rotating his middle and pinky finger in perfect synchronized motion as he spoke. Elise stirred, her body convulsing slightly.
    Medraut ignored Sean’s question, instead tilting Elise’s head higher, her wide-eyed gaze staring up at the sky. The captain said. “You know, when the Angel said he was going to annihilate the Knite blood line in one blow, I thought it was highly unlikely. But now I see why the Angel was so eager. And so stupid.”
    The captain’s gaze pierced Sean as Medraut stared intently at the young custodian. Medraut released his grip from Elise, her chin falling back onto chest. Coming forward, the captain spoke, spittle flying out of his clenched teeth.
“Don’t you hate it when you have to ask someone else to do something, and they fail in completing it? A simple task.” Medraut stopped in front of Sean. Not too close, but close enough to spit in the custodian’s face. But what the captain didn’t know was that he no longer had control of Sean’s neck. If Medraut drew close enough to him, Sean could headbutt Medraut. But where would that get him? He would still be held to the ground by the two walking boulders that had a grip on him. An attack on Medraut probably would just get Sean killed, or someone else like Lance or Elise. That was when Sean realized he couldn’t do anything. Sean’s mind began to race, finally realizing the hopelessness of his situation. Maybe he could get Medraut talking long enough, but Sean would still be stuck, Elise would still be unconscious, and Lance would be a walking zombie under the captain’s will. There was no way out. Sean began to sweat, moisture creeped out from every pore on his body.
At least with the Angel of Death, Sean had a chance. Sean had the Medallion. But now, Sean had nothing. He was alone, encouraging a sadistic college age maniac in a one way monologue that would eventually end in Sean’s demise. And then Elise’s. And then his family’s.
Now Medraut stepped forward, pointing a shaking finger at Sean’s nose.
    “And then when you do it yourself, and you find out how easy it was, it just makes you so much angrier!” Medraut punched Sean in the gut again, a solid uppercut that bruised Sean’s rib. Sean coughed and wheezed, yelping out in pain. Medraut didn’t magically clamp Sean’s mouth shut. Instead the captain just looked at Sean, shaking his head. Then Medraut glanced at Elise and Lance behind him.
    Medraut returned his gaze back to Sean, a disappointed, gleam in the captain’s eyes. It was also filled with hunger. Hunger that needed to be quenched.
    “You know what they say,” Sean dared to say. Medraut didn’t punch him, but instead listened, which surprised Sean. So he completed his sentence. “If you want something done, do it yourself.”
    Medraut nodded, his tongue licking his teeth. “Yes. Yes, you get it. You understand.”
    Sean gave the captain a nervous, unsure smile while Medraut stared blankly at the custodian. Then the captain let out a chuckled that grew into a dark laugh. He said. “It’s funny. You, the seed of who I seek to destroy understand me.”
    “No, I don’t,” Sean rasped, gasping, wriggling in the grip of the two men on each side of him. “You seem like a smart guy, though.”
    “More smarter than you.” Medraut said, taking the bait. Sean tried his hardest not to smile. Either this guy had never been subtly complemented in his life, or his ego was so big he loved to point it out every chance he got. Maybe it was both. But either way, Sean couldn’t care less. Medraut was slowly slipping. It was up to Sean to give the captain that extra nudge over the edge.
    Sean’s heart raced at the thought of it. How would he get a psychopath murderer who had the upperhand to lose control?
    Medraut’s gaze scanned all around Sean’s face. Sean said. “You were working for the Angel of Death?”
    Medraut nodded. Then, fully understanding Sean’s words, the captain shook his head vigorously. “What? No, the Angel of Death  was working for me! You insolent boy!”
    “Oh, okay,” Sean said, trying to put on his most nonchalant face. It was a difficult expression when the whole left side of his face was numb. Sean continued, attempting a shrug. His shoulder barely moved a centimeter. He said to the captain, “You’re a little young to be calling me ‘boy’. You’ve got to be, what? Nineteen? Twenty?”
    Medraut slapped Sean across the cheek. Sean returned his gaze on the captain, taunting the captain.
    “Why do you hate me so much?”
    “It’s not just you,” Captain Medraut shouted. “Your family has to die!”
    “Why?” Sean responded, anger rising in his voice. He glared at the captain, a new fire of indignation welling up inside of him. “Why is my family all of a sudden the center of hate for weirdos with masks and psychopaths like you?”
    “Because your family has spent the last thousand years I stay dead!”
    “Oh, come on!” Sean spat. “What are you, immortal too? Okay, then, Mr. Immortal Dude, please tell me why you hate me so much? I would love to know.”
    “You deserve to die.”
    “I at least deserve an answer before I die!”
    Medraut’s stare chilled Sean’s spine, but he kept his gaze on the captain. The captain’s voice was colder than black ice as he spoke, his words sharper than a razor against Sean’s ears.
    “You know the tales, do you not?”
    “Of. . . what?” Sean sniffed. “You mean the fairy tales of King Arthur? Yeah, I’ve heard of them. I think there’s a TV show of it too, with you in it. Your name’s supposed to be Mordred, right?”
    “I am Medraut!” Medraut threw up his hands. “My real name is Medraut, not Mordred. I have dueled King Arthur and fatally wounded him! I have killed hundreds of Arthur’s men, and several of his knights as well! I have even ruled as the king of Camelot, and you dare compare me to a character in a television show?”
    “I thought you died,” replied Sean.
    Medraut stepped forward. “You stand on thin ground.”
    Sean managed a weak smile. “I think I’m standing in front of a guy who can’t stand the fact that he’s going lose.”
    Letting out a sharp bark of laughter, Medraut shook his head. “What is this unusual bravado? What makes you think that statement is even remotely close to the truth? Do you have the gift of foresight? Even if you had, you would see I always win out in the end.”
    “No, I don’t have foresight,” Sean said. “I don’t have any magical abilities, or magical trinkets or magically enhanced weapons, or-” Sean paused, looking down at Medraut’s hands. “Whatever you do with your fingers. You’re right when you said I barely know the Vanguard. I barely know my father now, come to think of it. Now that I know the truth. Everything’s been so crazy and so much like hell I can’t tell what day it is anymore.”
    Sean paused, squinting at Medraut. “But I do know one thing. And it’s that people like you-egotistical maniacs like you always lose in the end. And I don’t need the gift of foresight to know that.” Sean let his words sink in. He watched the captain’s face. Medraut’s expression was that of confusion, then it cracked into laughter. He smirked at the young custodian, inching forward closer than ever before. So close that Sean could have bit the captain on his pointy nose.
    Medraut shook his head, obviously relishing the moment, pulling every single strand of pleasure from the words he said.
    “My dear boy,” Medraut murmured quietly, so quietly only Sean could hear. “I always win in the end. Here. Let me show you.” The captain’s hand came up, a finger about to touch Sean’s skull in the center of his forehead. But before Medraut’s hand could even reach the chest height, Sean moved. He had noticed by the slight relaxation in the men’s grip on Sean’s arms and legs that they were beginning to tire. Who wouldn’t, after waiting through all that dialogue? Sean guessed that some kind of fatigue had set in by now, and he decided now was the best time to act. Using all of his pent up strength in both of his arms, Sean moved his head in a diagonal line down and to his left, then jerked up hard until the man on Sean’s right was pulled along with him. Medraut’s fingertip brushed against the skin of the man holding Sean. Just as Sean had guessed, Medraut’s touch killed instantly. Like a bull elephant taking a 50 caliber round to the forehead, the large muscular man fell forward, stone dead. Right onto Captain Medraut.
    While the captain fumbled backwards from the weight of the man he had just touched, Sean was free on his right. This was exactly what Sean needed. He broke out of the grip of the second man to his left by jerking his arm and leg forward and thrust himself awkwardly out of the way. As he did, he snatched at the gun on the side of the second man, his firearm coming out smoothly as Sean lowered it. Fired it into the man’s knee. The gun went off, the bullet only tearing through flesh. It was only a flesh wound. The second man, even though he was wounded, swiped at him with a tree trunk like arm. It was as stiff as a trunk, too. Sean dodged the wild grab at him, then ducked behind the small frame of the captain and wrapped an arm around Medraut’s neck. The inside of Sean’s elbow smashed against Medraut’s throat. Sean jabbed the gun against Medraut’s temple. The captain gurgled, surprised, his eyes wide.
    The guards stepped forward, but Sean shouted, clear enough to be heard by everyone in the room. The gun felt slippery in Sean’s grip, sweat already seeping through every pore on his body. Especially in his palms. He gripped the pistol he held against Medraut’s hand several times. He shouted loudly, turning around slowly to survey the room.
    “Don’t move or I’ll snap his neck, I swear I will!”
    Sean could hear footsteps behind him, so he swiveled around and showed them their captain. Showed the gun to Medraut’s head.
    “Stay back!” Sean screamed, turning around and around, realizing he was surrounded on all sides. There was a circle of fighting-ready men surrounding Sean, nowhere for him to go. All twenty of the men and women who had been working in their little circle ot tables now were filing out. About five of them held shotguns. The rest had pistols drawn, pointed directly at Sean. This was it. He was going to die. Elise and Lance were going to die. And his mother and sister. . .
    “You idiots!” Medraut gurgled to his men. He gasped for air, Sean realizing that the captain had begun to turn pale. Sean released his grip by a millimeter, allowing the voice of the captain to ring throughout the depository.
    “Don’t shoot!” the captain rasped. “Do not shoot!”
    “Listen to him!” Sean shouted, sweat beading at the corners of his temples. He turned around slowly, a loaded gun pointed at his back, at all sides of his head. Everywhere on him. Sean moved in a more erratic pattern, almost as if he were dancing the waltz with the captain as his partner. Sean moved around in dizzying circles for a few seconds, glancing at Lance and Elise. Lance was still standing. But Sean noticed his shoulders had returned to their regular square position. His back was now ramrod straight, no longer unbalanced like before. And his eyes were closed. Wait. No, one of Lance’s eyes were open. It was impossible to see if you weren’t close enough, but from where Sean stood, he saw that Lance was looking at him. A pale eye ball staring through one slitted eye. Sean quickly looked away, trying not to react. But inside his hopes were returning steadily.
    Sean moved over to Elise, still moving unexpectedly in varying directions. Keeping the circle of guns around him always guessing. Giving them a moving target. Elise was still unconscious, but her body was slouching down the chair, her invisible bonds no longer restraining her. Her legs were splayed and her arms were nearly touching the floor. Sean breathed heavily as he returned his gaze back at all the guns ready to fire at his face.
    “Looks like we’re in a stalemate,” Medraut gasped. Sean hit the captain in the head with the butt of pistol.
    “Don’t speak!” Sean dug the gun barrel into Medraut’s ear. “Keep your hands in front of you where I can see them. If you so much as touch me, I will kill you.”
    “But I’m already touching you-”
    “Do it!”
    Medraut did. Slowly, the captain splayed his fingers out in front of him.
    Sean said. “Higher.”
    Medraut raised them higher, exposing all of his fingers.
None of them moved. They lay still. Not the slightest tremor or shake in them. Sean huffed.
    “You’re a real snake, Medraut.”
    “The prey is always the last to realize the obvious.”
    Sean dug the tip of the gun barrel deep into the side of the captain’s head. Medraut yelped out in pain, groaning against the cold steel entering his ear canal.
    “And the prey has a gun to your head,” Sean growled. “And the prey will kill you if you don’t order your men to stand down.”
    Medraut said nothing.
    “Do it!” shouted Sean, jamming the gun deeper into Medraut’s ear. The captain gasped and choked, his jaws clenched hard and his eyes wide.
    “Put your weapons down,” Medraut finally said. “Don’t shoot. Put them down. . . down. . .”
    The men and women encircling Sean looked at each other, some of them staring straight on. Some dropped their weapons instantly. Others watched and waited and looked at their neighbors lowering their weapons. A select few held their guns rock solid, still pointing at Sean’s head. Sean examined the current situation. The only guns that were still up were two shotguns and three handguns. Two of the shotguns now were hesitantly wavering, their holders thinking hard. The three handguns stayed. Sean cursed to himself quietly.
    “Looks like some of your people have guts,” Sean whispered down to the captain. Medraut didn’t say anything. Sean spoke to the three men holding the pistols.
    “Put it down.”
    “Or what?” One of the men said loudly, his voice muffled by the visor helmet he wore on his head.
    “Do it.” Sean asserted, glancing sideways at Lance. His eyes were closed now, but Sean could see his chest rising and falling slowly. Deeply breathing. Sean’s eyes flicked over to Elise. Her chest was rising and falling, but now her eyes were fluttering open. Sean looked away, making his movement even more choppy and less fluid; each step forward a feint back, each backstep a false step to the side. Randomness was key. He also looked like an idiot.
    “Let him go, kid.” said another one of the stalwart guards holding his pistol. His head was shaved bald and he was the tallest in the group, a head higher than anyone else. “There’s no way out of here.”
    “You think so?” replied Sean, stepping in front of Elise. He let his gaze sweep over her inconspicuously. She squinted in her slouched position, not moving; not daring to breathe. She knew what was going on; she was staring at Sean moving around with Medraut. He could see the hint of a frown on her features in the dim lighting. Sean couldn’t help but grin. Yes, his methods were strange, but he hadn’t died yet. They were still alive. So he must be doing something right. Sean turned his gaze on the three gunmen pointing their weapons. It looked bad. If the circle was like a clock, then the three men pointing their guns at Sean would be positioned at one o’clock, four o’clock, and nine o’clock. All three men had three different angles of Sean. Three lines of sight in where Sean could get shot in the back of the head. Technically even with only three men, Medraut’s men had the upperhand.
    So Sean decided to take the upperhand for himself.
    Moving in a slow parabola to where the man in the four o’clock position stood, gun out. The circle of men had somewhat collapsed into a square. It bulged out at the edges where Sean got within ten feet of the perimeter. But the man at the four o’clock position held his ground. Sean got so close, the man had to back away. That was when Sean ducked his head as far as it would go behind Medraut’s head, at the same time firing at the man holding the gun. Medraut flinched in Sean’s grip, but Sean held on tight, quickly coming up and readjusting his hold on the captain. Sean’s round had hit the man in the shoulder, his hands coming down, the gun dropping from his grip. Whacking the man at the base of the neck, Sean turned around to face the three other men. Sean could see that other people around him were raising their guns. But before anyone could shoot, Sean felt the concussive blast of a large gun go off. The sound piercing the air, splicing it in two. At first he thought he had been shot, but Sean saw that Lance had come alive out of his stupor, his hand cannon out and pointed at the surviving third man at the one o’clock position. The man at the nine o’clock position lay on the floor. Sean couldn’t tell what was left of the man’s torso in the poorly lit foyer. Elise had jumped up too, her hands whipping around and her fingers curling and projecting golden light around her, Lance and Sean.
    Lance shouted. “If anyone is still faithful to the commander of the Vanguard, stand with me!”
    No one in the rough circle moved an inch.
    “So be it,” Lance murmured, leveling his gun. “Traitors in life, traitors in death.” Sean moved closer to Elise and Lance, back into the circle. Medraut’s men tightened it, herding the trio together. Elise stumbled and bumped into Sean. She righted herself, swaying on her feet.
    “You don’t look so great,” Sean noted Elise’s appearance. She didn’t look at him as she spoke.
    “Thanks. You look like crap yourself.”
    “Quip less.” Lance growled, moving his gun left to right, sighting in his numerous targets. “Let’s get out of here alive. I know where Smyth, Tryss and Percy might be holed up.”
    “Where?” asked Sean.
    Lance looked at the captain struggling in Sean’s arm. Sean jabbed the gun in his head and shouted, “Your hands! Keep your hands up.” Medraut did, lazily, as if the effort tired him.
    “Please,” Medraut gasped, his eyes pointed at Lance. “You were saying, Lance? That hiding spot-”
    “Shut up.” Sean squeezed his bicep, constricting the captain’s throat, abruptly cutting Medraut off. Medraut coughed and gagged, his tongue sticking out. “Let’s get the heck out of here.”
    “Agreed,” Lance said with a scowl. He fired his gun into the circle. The rounds managed to go through the golden screen that protected them. Lance shot two men in the chest before the circle around them began to fire. It was like standing in front of a window and watching water splash across the surface of the glass. Except instead of water, gunshots smacked into the shield. Red sparks flashed across the golden screen, only three feet away from Sean’s face. Medraut wheezed something inaudible as Sean shouted to Lance and Elise.
“Where are we going?”   
    “Just follow me!” shouted Lance, as he stepped up behind Sean and walked in front of him, Elise following close behind, keeping the shield around them. Lance headed towards the hallway on the left. The Artifacts and Relic Hall. Sean hadn’t explored much of the exhibit, considering he wasn’t really interested in looking at old clay pots and large dull silver spoons. So when Lance began leading the way to the relics section, Sean was confused.
He called out. “You’re telling me they’re over there?”
    “Just trust me, okay?” Lance said, ducking reflexively at the sound of a deafening thud impact the shield. Sean saw a large splash of red that washed over the golden bubble, at the same time, Elise yelped, nearly keeled over. She managed to somehow stay upright and to keep her hands high, but her face was warped into a grimace. She stared ahead of her, not exactly focused on anything. Sean looked at where the shot had come from, which was to the side. It was hard to discern the human shapes from inside of the glowing shield, but Sean found it. He stared, squinting.
    Just to the left of them, inside of the circle of tables and computers, a man stood carrying a cylindrical tube on his shoulder. The mouth of the tube was open and pointed at the three of them in the circle. He had just fired the weapon, about to bring it down to reload it.
Elise groaned. “Bringing a rocket launcher seems a bit overkill.”
     Medraut gurgled something that Sean couldn’t quite understand. So Sean squeezed the captain’s neck harder.
The man holding the tube lowered it and inserted another shell into the breach. Sean nearly got tangled up in Medraut’s legs as he followed behind Elise who followed Lance, all four of them marching in an awkward, hasty shuffle to the corridor.
    “He’s going to fire again,” Sean called out, looking over his shoulder at the man with the launcher. He looked over at Elise. The bright honey colored bubble they were in caused everything inside it to look auburn. Sean could see pockmarks of heavy perspiration all over her face. Elise scolded. “Keep your eyes forward. It’ll be easier and faster for you move if you keep your eyes forward.”
    Sean did.
    He saw that they had already entered the hallway, but they were still as vulnerable as they had been outside of the corridor.
    “Can you take another hit?” Sean asked, his breathing becoming shallow. Elise shook her head, the bottom of her lip quivering. “Not really. I. . . I don’t think-”
    “Well, he’s going to fire again!” Sean looked over his shoulder again, watching in horror at the man cradling the tube on his shoulder.
    Lance shouted. “Take point, Elise!” Lance switched places with Elise, and then Lance took Sean’s place, shoving him and Medraut closer up the line. Lance aimed, sighted, and saw the man fire the rocket launcher. Sean could see it, the bright white and yellow flash that lit the entire corridor for a split second. And then the shell came. It was only a blur to Sean’s eyes, but it seemed to move like it was underwater. It sped through the air and before Sean could blink it blew apart the protective bubble into pieces. Fragments of amber flew everywhere, the transparent shield now turning into hard, discarded shells of plates that clattered to the floor. Sean looked behind at Elise. She was tipping over, her arms around her sides and her head low on her chest. She was passing out. Sean slapped a hand on her back and thrust Elise back onto her feet. She could barely stand up straight, much less walk, but Sean stared in amazement as she stumbled down the hallway. Any ideas Captain Medraut had in taking advantage of the situation were squeezed out of him by Sean.
    Lance had switched his gun’s firing rate to fully automatic, the large hand cannon blasting out a repetitive, buzz-saw like BOOM BOOM BOOM that splurged out in a continuous stream. Sean didn’t know if he hit anybody. He didn’t know if Lance had shot the man carrying the rocket launcher. All Sean was focused on was hauling Medraut and Elise to the end the of the hallway. But there wasn’t anything at the end of the hallway. No doors on the sides, no doglegged corner, not even a single cleft or deposit that could offer the least bit of shelter from the heavy fire they were receiving. Sean could hear and even feel the bullets rip the air above and beside him. Bullets skimmed off the hard marble underfoot, puncturing, cracking, and fracturing the entire floor of the hallway. Some of the artifacts in the exhibit sustained the gunshots that smacked into the glass cases, but some of the uncovered relics weren’t as lucky. Priceless antiques broke open and fragments flew all across the room. Sean and Elise had to swerve to avoid the broken pieces skittering across the floor. One hundred year old dust and grit filled the air.
    As he ran onwards, Sean’s legs began to falter, every muscle waist down beginning to liquefy. Elise was half gone by now, her head lolling and bouncing on her shoulders as she jogged aimlessly down the hall. Sean had to guide her once every while as Medraut struggled under the young custodian’s grip. Lance was shouting back at Elise and Sean to hurry it up and move, but Sean didn’t know if he wanted to die at the end of a hallway filled with ancient chamber pots.
    “Where do we go?” Sean shouted back at Lance.
    “You’ll see!” replied the Delta team leader, pausing for a brief moment in his gunplay for his words to be heard. “Elise will show you!”
    “Elise doesn’t seem to be in the mood to be showing anything anybody right now!” Sean screamed back in frustration as he choked Medraut in one arm and guided Elise with the other. Sean nudged Elise along with his arm, careful not to pull the trigger on the pistol he still held in his hand. Having the captain in a headlock didn’t make running down the hallway any more easier for Sean. It was the hardest thing he had ever done in his entire life.
    Sean heard Lance cry out. Sean risked a peek over his shoulder and saw the man holding his firearm with one hand, his other hand hanging limp at his side. A round splotch of blood welled from the back of his upper arm. Sean turned around and stared at Elise. She was still out of commission. She looked like a ragdoll being controlled by invisible strings as she trundled down the hall. Sean kept running, his mind thinking about nothing else. They were three-fourths of the way at the end. They were almost to the end. And then what? What was there to be saved by? The sheer thought angered Sean, and it gave him one last burst of energy that sped him down the final stretch of the corridor. The wall at the end of hallway was coming up fast. It looked like that he, Elise, and Medraut were all going to smash into the white wall. But he couldn’t stop himself. Sean just couldn’t stop running. It felt like he had began at the top of a hill and he was just reaching the bottom. His feet didn’t know the definition of stop. They didn’t need any reason to stop, besides the racketing gunfire that sounded from behind.
    Just before Sean could smash his skull into the drywall of the hallway, he saw Elise wave a hand in front of them at the wall. Suddenly the white wall disappeared, a wide door five feet wide and six feet high appearing. Inside the doorway, past the threshold, lightness could not penetrate. It was complete darkness. Complete darkness that Sean dove gratefully into without a care in the world.
    Blackness, like ink, swallowed him, Elise, and Medraut whole.