[center][h3]March 14, 2018 - Harvard, Massachusetts.  Bromfield School.[/h3][/center]
[center]51 Degrees.  Rain.  Thunder in the vicinity.[/center]
[center][IMG]http://i68.tinypic.com/2r3b7eo.jpg[/IMG][/center]

  Beads of sweat poured down Isaac's head and face.  His labored breaths hissed out of his mask as he and Sticks ran through the halls.  Visibility was becoming increasingly problematic as the smoke grew thicker and obscured the emergency lights.  To make matters worse, while most of the risen gave chase to the Patriot monstrosity, some stragglers remained which made every corner and doorway a risk.

  The two men knelt in the middle of a long hallway and away from walls and windows.  Sticks wheezed and panted as he looked behind at the blackened void.  Isaac, meanwhile, checked his weapons and took some moments to catch his breath.

"They're not following."  Sticks said in a loud whisper.

Isaac didn't reply.  Sticks tapped Isaac's shoulder, which instinctively caused Isaac to turn and shove him backward.  The skinny man hit the ground with a soft thud.  But he recovered and gestured backward, "They're not following."

Isaac motioned to Stick's earpiece.  His eyes went wide and he frantically turned the mic on.

"Stan!  Bill!  Ow-..."  Sticks nursed his shoulder briefly from a swift punch from Isaac.  But he got the message and spoke quieter.  "Are you still alive?"

Isaac gestured forward and the two proceeded.  Radio silence followed, with a flip blips of static.

"Stan?"  Sticks replied as he called out to Nosering.  "Stan, if you're trying to call us, we didn't get that."

Silence.

Sticks suddenly felt a firm hand grip his arm and pull him toward a wall.  He raised his weapon and drew in a sharp breath.  Isaac's masked face drew in close.  Close enough for Sticks to see Isaac's cold dark eyes staring through him.

"[color=goldenrod]Quieter.[/color]"  He uttered darkly.

"Okay..."  Sticks said, trembling under the hand.  Isaac nodded and released.

As the two proceeded, Sticks could finally see what Isaac saw.  Several figures wandered through the hall.  Their strides were cautious.  Deliberate.  Not the bumbling steps of one of the risen.  As they drew closer, their boots made a heavy sound.

Isaac pulled Sticks into a classroom and quietly shut the door behind them.  He then crouched low and pressed his back against the wall, quickly scanning the room for hostiles.  The figures approached, flashlights piercing the darkness and smoke as they shined through the windows above Isaac's shoulder.  Their footsteps resonated hollowly as they approached the door.  Muffled voices spoke carelessly in the dark.  All the meanwhile, Sticks remained frozen to the ground.

After a few moments, the boots moved away from the room and the hall fell silent again, however briefly.  Static played over the radio again until the voice of Nosering spoke up, panicked and winded, "Where the hell are you guys?  Are you still upstairs?"

Sticks' eyes lit up.  He looked up at Isaac, who gave an approving nod before replying quietly.  "We are.  We're in a classroom.  There's people walking around."

"Did they see you?"  Skullface's voice responded rapidly.

"I...I don't think so."  Sticks replied.  "What's happening?  Who are they?"

A long pause.  "Is the New Guy there with you?"  Skullface asked, finally.  Sticks confirmed.  "There's a room on the second floor.  It's where they control the lights and the scoreboard for the gym.  Get over there and you should be able to climb down to the first floor.  Stan, Eddie, and I will meet you."

"Eddie?!"  Sticks shouted, right before a quick jab from Isaac.  "Is he chasing you?"

"It's hard to explain," Skullface said.  "I think he's trying to help us."

"Or he's being very polite and wants to smash the Franks before he smashes us."  Nosering replied, between breaths.

"Hurry to the gym.  We'll meet you there."  Skullface replied.

"C...copy."  Sticks added.

Isaac gave Sticks a nod and checked the door.  It was clear.  He motioned for the lanky man to follow as he inched his way back out into the hall, this time, sticking to the walls.  His hands looked for any signs that could point the way.  He found plaques for rooms, boys' and girls' restroom signs, and a bunch of random motivational posters.  It wasn't until he reached the hall that he found what he was looking for: an indicator for the direction of the gym.

Sticks was about to follow it, but Isaac redirected him.  "[color=goldenrod]Too much smoke in that direction.[/color]"  Truthfully, however, it wasn't just the smoke that gave Isaac pause.  It was those people.  Who knew how many more of them there were and what those people planned to do if they found Isaac.

Knowing the general direction of the Gym helped Isaac navigate the halls of the second floor.  With the path relatively clear, Isaac's search for the control room turned successful.  His hand tested the doorknob.  Cold; Unlocked.  Confidently, he opened the door and stepped in.  There, he saw a small room that housed little more than a booth, a sound mixer, lighting controls, and an unpowered desktop computer.

Sticks followed, quietly closing the door behind him.  But when he looked back at Isaac, he saw the man lowering the semi-automatic rifle and readying his hunting rifle.  Like a cat creeping up to its prey, Isaac took a few steps forward, poising his body for a strike.  When Sticks looked past Isaac, he saw an assembly of Eastern Front men, some of whom he recognized, with weapons pointed right at the booth.  In the middle of it all stood a tall, dark, and muscular man with a shaved head and a stone-cold face.  Beside him, a shorter man with an eighties haircut and a pair of black aviator glasses.  On their knees beside them were Nosering and Skullface, with rifles pressed directly to their foreheads.

"Mr. Singh," Morgan called up toward the booth over the radio.  "Let's talk."