Let's Start A Riot

Chapter Twenty-Three - Not Your Prince Charming

Silence descends in the room, none of us looking at each other or speaking, just waiting for whatever punishment is going to come.

"Well?" Director Thomas says as he stops flipping through the folder on his desk and leans back in his chair, casually intertwining his fingers on his chest and watching us carefully.

"What do you want us to say?" Marcus says gruffly, his own posture deceivingly relaxed, careless.

"I would like for you to explain," Director Thomas motions a hand and Agent Hartley lifts a large wooden box onto the desk, "Why during morning checks, my soldiers found these in one of the cabins."

Agent Hartley slides up the front panel of the box and reveals its contents. The smell hits me immediately, taking me straight back to my first day of camp standing in the cabin surrounded by death, because that is what is in the box. Death.

The severed heads of James and the three men sit squashed in the box. As Hartley tugs the front panel free of the box, the heads move and James's rolls free, falling to the floor and landing with a sickeningly wet thud, coming to a stop when it hits the edge of my boot, smearing crimson blood on the toe of my boot.

I stare down in horror as James's unseeing eyes stare right back at me, his face perpetually frozen in an expression of raw terror. I shove my chair back, scrambling as far away from the head as I can. I look at Sarah and Hugo and they look almost as shocked as I feel, their jaws slack in disbelief, Hugo's skin paling impossibly further than his natural tone.

The only person who doesn't look shocked at all by the severed heads is Marcus. Marcus wears the same bored expression that he had when he walked into the room. His eyes lazily move from the heads to his father. "It would seem that four sadistic bastards met a fortunate – sorry, unfortunate end. What a terrible shame."

Director Thomas grits his teeth. "You cannot kill candidates that belong to the very service that you are trying to become a permanent fixture in, son." He spits out that title with a venomous tone. "How do you think it looks when my offspring is killing the sons of former agents of this organisation, hm?"

"It looks like the former agents of this organisation produced vermin that should have put more sand in their hourglass before they inevitably got exterminated like the rodents they were." Marcus retorts, his voice lethally quiet.

"That was not your call to make." Director Thomas slams a palm on the table, causing the other heads to shudder precariously in the box.

"They tried to kill a member of my squad, which I'm sure you have the footage of, and I know that you know that makes them fair game." Marcus stares down his father, leaning forward in his seat. "Or have you forgotten that you also murdered another squad during training for trying to ambush yours?"

"Times have changed." Director Thomas grinds out.

"No. They haven't. Everyone knows that this place doesn't abide by the regular rules of civility. I have sworn to protect each member of my squad just as you did yours. The difference between you and me? I don't plan on failing." Everyone in the room freezes at Marcus's cold words, Agent Hartley's eyes darting between the father and son, readying himself for intervening.

Director Thomas doesn't move; his only reaction is the slight twitch of his right eye. A minute of silence passes, both Marcus and the Director watching each other like they are the two predators at the top of the food chain, ready to claw at each other to make it into first.

"Romeo squad will have death duty for two weeks, as well as an immediate demotion in the new squad rankings to be announced tomorrow, they will begin last on the leaderboard. Get out." Director Thomas dismisses us all without a glance, motioning at Hartley to remove the box of heads from his office and returns to the paperwork on his desk.