It was 11:45 PM in the Council Building. Everybody was either in bed or getting ready to go to bed. Those who weren't were occupied in the role of security guards, but they were busy screwing around with their friends and not watching any of the footage from the numerous cameras. Aside from them, there wasn't a peep; and not a man among the occupants wasn't going to bed.
Except for Namek.
He was bending over the folded-out monitor screens, looking intently at the feed coming from outside Room 7412. So far nothing was happening. Jack, folding his sheets over his bed, looked at Namek and sighed.
"Are we still staying up?" he inquired. "It's been five hours straight of bloody monitoring..."
"...They're in there somewhere," Namek muttered. Bags were forming under his eyes from sheer stress. "...They're in there, being slimy little terrorists..."
"Look, I really don't think they'll terrorize at this time of night," Jack reassured. "They're Robloxians, too, so don't they get tired?"
"Ah, criminals never get tired," Namek said. He clenched his fist. Jack remembered the scars that criss-crossed Namek's hands.
"Where'd you get the scars?" he asked, a little off topic.
Namek sighed. "Ah, it's a... memento," he said. "Something very bad happened to me, and all I'm left with are scars."
"Ah," said Jack. "War? Were you in any war groups?"
"No," replied Namek. "War groups weren't even popular..."
There was movement on the screen. Namek sat straighter. The door to Room 7412 was opening, slowly. Out of it came a reluctant gunbarrel. It looked like an AR-15, an assault rifle; there could be no possible mistaken identity as a Garand. A moment later, Ereuy cautiously stepped out, and then assured that nobody would see him ran off out of the view of the camera. A moment later, his assistant followed. And then there came five strangers armored in stealth gear, goggles with green lenses pulled tight over their eyes, scarfs covering their faces. Completely anonymous killers armed each with an Uzi. A formidable team, it seemed. But apparently, as Namek got up and pulled his Shiny Gun from his jacket pocket, this newfound terrorist team wasn't quite formidable enough to handle an agent of Spectre Branch.
"C'mon," he said to Jack, and then added, "Oh, and wash that hair gel out. In a good lighting I can see it gleam all the way from the door."
Jack washed out his hair in the sink, and then grabbing his shiny gun followed Namek. They exited the rom and walked slowly down the hallway, guns held in front of them ready for action.
"What's the plan?" Namek asked.
"What?"
"I thought you'd want a chance to make up a plan."
"Go... stealthy? Not going in all guns blazing?"
"Sounds good," agreed Namek. "Enter like a snake, strike like a tiger, that sort of thing?"
"Uh, yes," Jack said. "What's a tiger?"
"Never mind." Namek pressed his back to the wall.
A noise made them both jump. Namek pulled Jack into the shadow of a statue. From behind a corner stepped one of the terrorists. His breath fluttered the scarf around his mouth, and the goggles around his eyes glinted. The Uzi was held in a way that suggested the holder wasn't afraid of letting whatever stepped in front of him eat lead. The terrorist's boots made small scratching sounds on the carpet.
"Let's get back to the room," Namek whispered. "We'll waylay 'em as they come past." He snuck across a band of shadow, and Jack followed, walking crabwise as the terrorist motioned with his hand that it was safe to come around the corner. They entered their room, and Namek hunkered down at the security feeds. Jack shut the door quietly. The terrorists were moving like silk dolls through the hallways, and the security cameras were still rolling. Ereuy and his assistant moved back behind the others. One of the terrorists brushed the door gently. The noise made Jack jump a bit. He tried to steady himself, but the noise had done its damage. The terrorist's footfalls stopped.
"Boss, there's somebody in here. Thinks he's real quiet," the terrorist growled through the scarf.
Namek and Jack managed to shut down the screens, stow the container away under the bed, and barricade themselves in the closet before the door was kicked carefully open.
"You two," said Ereuy's voice, "get in there and search the room. Chairman Decahedra doesn't want anybody knowing about the operation."
Two figures stepped in, visible only slightly through the crack between the closet doors. They searched the bedsheets, the clothes strewn around the place, the cast-away formal Council jackets, and finally the kitchen.
"They're always hiding in the air vent," Jack heard one terrorist say to his colleague. "We always have to ventilate someone."
"So annoying," the other one agreed.
"Ready to make a last stand?" Namek whispered to Jack, just out of range of the terrorists.
"I'll do whatever you're doing," Jack replied. "You're my superior, after all."
They stole out of the closet. The terrorists were searching the bathroom, opening cabinets and rummaging through the fancy soap and shampoo within. A glass bottle fell and shattered with a tinkle on the tiles. The terrorist who had dropped it bent down to sweep up the pieces, looked up, and saw Namek looming over him. "Urk-"
The terrorist dropped dead into Namek's arms as the killer cut the other man's throat with his knife. Then, cleaning the blade, Namek slipped the corpses out of their clothes. He handed some to Jack.
"Put those on."
Jack obliged.
"Hurry up, men!" Ereuy barked. Jack hastened his assumtion of the terrorist's identity. Seeing an identity patch on the shoulder pad of the vest, he looked at it. TehCoolDude44, read the patch. You can only appreciate somebody's work if you walk a mile in their shoes, Jack thought.
They finished donning the outfits, and walked out into the hallway, Uzis held out in front of them. Ereuy lead the way to the end of the hallway, and to a large statue of an unknown Admin, banhammer hefted proudly over its shoulder. Ereuy walked up to it, and prodded at its legs. "Damn," he muttered, "I knew that button was somewhere... why couldn't Decahedra have just made a nice little wall switch for me?" His finger sunk in. Grinning, he stepped back. The statue began to move slowly, without any sound save for a scraping noise that would have been indistinguishable from the ordinary sounds of Robloxity at night.
When the statue had finished its progress and gone all the way up into the ceiling, Ereuy leaped down an exposed pit. His assistant beckoned to the terrorists, and they all went down the pit together. The metal walls rushed by at breathtaking speed. And then as they hit bottom they bounced on some sort of rubbery surface. The room they'd fallen into was pitch black, but far ahead there sounded a rhythmic beep-beep noise.
Lights flickered on, large garish strip-lights that served their purpose moderately well but could have been improved. A roar sounded, and a panel opened in the wall opposite the group. Ereuy walked forward to the lip of a suddenly exposed gulley. Then a gray, bullet-like shape slid to a halt in front of him. The train opened its doors, and the entourage walked into a nondescript passenger area. The doors closed again, and in the blink of an eye the train had gone.
OOO
There were many words to say about Decahedra, and yet none at all seemed to occur to all those before him. He could be described as imposing, tall, cool, steely, and dark. But using any words like that in front of him meant that you had gotten on his bad side. Description was for him and him alone, and all others under his command were in deep trouble if they so much as described how blue the sky was today.
And did he use description indeed. In their private minds, most of his colleagues thought of him as a large ham. He was a large ham. He spoke in a way that suggested he thought his every quote would be documented in the press. And he incessantly described everything.
Right then, he was pacing up and down. His dark and dully-colored armor was an unnecessary touch, but he liked it because it hid his face, and nothing would be more damaging to his reputation outside of the Associates than to have his face revealed to the world. So he preferred to go under the name Decahedron, and wear anonymity as a cloak.
A train pulled up beside him, and he stood in one place, ready to greet Ereuy and his associates.
