Running

Three, Two, One...

TW: Cursing, Death threats, Panic Attack, Death mention, Attempt to force someone to commit murder,

Logan's POV:

As soon as we scatter, I know where I'm headed. Straight for the IT lab. I've some unfinished buisness to clear up, and if we're going to be captured, I'd like it done beforehand.

I hastily turn on one of the computers, speed-typing my password.
I bite my nails anxiously to distract myself from the loud noises coming from elsewhere in the building. Sure, I could be helping, but what would it do?

We've outwitted them before, but there were a lot of them this time. Besides, this is more Virgil's battle.

Opening Gmail, I punch in the email of a certain person, and type out what I'm going to write.

Dad, - No. That sounds too friendly.
Father - Ugh. I don't think it sounds right. You know what? Let's use first names.

Liam,

In your favour, I should have sent this email a lot sooner. I'm sure you know what's been going on.
Time is running out.

I just want you to know, that, this doesn't mean that I forgive you, or that you're off the hook. You never will be, in my eyes atleast.

I better not see you while in captivity. If I do, there will be hell to pay. I don't care what your boss tells you, you won't come anywhere near me or my friends. I'm sure you know of them.

I'm not going to let what you did to Mother slide, is what I'm saying. Sure, I've been a little pre-occupied recently, but don't think you're safe now. You never will be. I don't give a fuck whether I'm a free man or not, you'll die at my hands one day. That's a threat, and a promise.

A loud crash distracts me from what I'm doing. I really don't have long.

This has been a good chat, but I've got buisness to attend to. Do not bother replying to this.

Your favourite son,
Logan.

I'm about to send when I feel the need to be spiteful.

P.S: You forgot to send me the usual $10 for my seventeenth birthay a few months ago. Bad parenting much? 

You see, it's funny because not giving your child a birthday present is not bad parenting compared to the things I have grudges against him for.
I start to hear the commotion stop, and footsteps. I hastily press send and log out of Gmail.

I walk over to the door, and place my ear upon it, hearing muffled conversation.
"Don't lie to me, Veve. Where's the last one?" A voice that I don't like speaks.
"There were only ever seven of us, Johns. I think the dementia is kicking in with the old-age."

A half-laugh, half-snicker comes from a high-pitched, girlish voice. Melanie.

Before the man can retaliate, I pull the door open and walk out, hands behind my head. "Sorry I'm late." I smirk. "I had to send an email." 

Logically, I won't be able to fight these people. The three of us wouldn't take them down. So, I let a man in a uniform pull my hands behind my back and handcuff them. He starts to drag me away, but I step on his foot so that he stops momenterily.

"Virgil?"
"Y-Yeah?"
"Good luck."

-------------

Melanie's POV:

As soon as the crash rings out, I find Virgil grabbing me by the wrist and dragging me over to a wall. I find tears watering in the corner of my eyes.
"Wh- what do we do?" He pants, placing a frail hand on his speedily hyperventilating chest.