This is going to be quite long...
Ch. 2- Enter The Monitors
“What do you think about yesterday’s shooting, Chuckles?” Envidi asked in a serious manner.
“I’m glad that kid was shot, that bastard owed me some money, and if he hadn’t been shot, I would’ve done the shooting myself, with the help of my trusty revolver, of course,” Prescott responded.
“What do you think about the discovery of drugs in that student’s locker?” Envidi asked with slight ire evident in his tone.
“Give me some,” answered Prescott.
“What do you think about the woman who was raped yesterday in the afternoon?” Envidi asked with annoyance.
“Wish I could’ve been there. She wouldn’t have classified it as rape if I were there,” replied Prescott.
“What should we do about the broken windows?” Envidi asked irritably.
“Nothing. Now I can get in the building without having to remember the damn PIN,” said Prescott.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t throw you out the window again,” Envidi demanded.
“The three hours aren’t up yet,” replied Prescott.
“Do you have any last words?” asked Envidi.
“Get me some more whiskey,” responded Prescott.
“See you tomorrow,” said Envidi.
“I didn’t get my whiskey yet,” Prescott yelled, crashing through the window, shattering the glass as his body pressed against the thin sheet of clear glass. Blood and glass scattered about and the blood that remained on the unbroken glass slowly trickled down, leaving only drying, red lines behind.
“Go to hell,” Envidi concluded, turning back towards the door, sighing in disgust as he twisted the door handle and exited Chuckle’s office. The principal was lying down, bloody and unconscious, on the warm concrete tiles, though his unconsciousness was due to drunkenness, and not injury.
Envidi returned to his cherry wood table and stared intently at the nearly empty calendar that lay before him, with only one date circled that represented the start of the school year, which had occurred a few weeks prior. His datebook also lay nearby, but the entries were intentionally vague so as to prevent any pests or blackmailers from being able to trail him throughout the day and use that information against him, not that he did anything that would diminish his reputation without the necessary precautions. The amethyst lamp sitting on the table contrasted heavily with its surroundings, as it was the only piece in the entire room that was from the cubist furniture set that Envidi made certain he removed from the office, judging the style to be unorganized and chaotic in general, only leaving the lamp because the replacement had yet to arrive.
There was a knock at the door, followed by the entrance of a young girl whose hair glimmered like the sun and was slightly more orange than the color of a peach. Her attire consisted almost entirely of white, with khaki pants and two khaki-colored belts going across her chest diagonally. On her hands were gunmetal grey gloves with a white patch across the back of her hand, with gold buttons holding the patches to the rest of the glove. The inside of her shirt was jet black, which could be easily seen, as her outfit was too large for her. Small, circular glasses with green rims that matched her eyes rested on the tip of her nose, leaving whether or not she actually required them for her to see solely up to speculation.
“Ah, Gwen, I’m glad you’ve come. As I’m sure you are aware, they are playing Hotel California in the halls again. I’m certain that you understand what this means.”
“The hall monitors have begun their daily hunt for fresh prey,” answered Gwen immediately.
“Precisely. Although I expect you to have expected this, Persey has become incapacitated, and is no longer capable of executing his obligatory duty,” he said, placing emphasis on Persey’s obligation. “As such, though I know you’ve been working hard these past few days, we need you to take up this duty for an additional day.”
“I understand, and I accept. I will begin immediately.”
“Very good. We’ll be certain to reward you for your continued assistance,” he added after a second thought.
Gwen exited Envidi’s office and proceeded to travel towards her locker, where she stored the equipment she would require to carry out her duty.
Ferrik and Thomas had been making a frantic dash through the halls, knowing full well that discovery would result in a number of increasingly dissatisfying situations, all of which the duo were hoping to avoid. Thomas tripped and slid across the floor, and Ferrik momentarily stopped to help him up, but then he noticed that he was beginning to see people. One of them stepped out into the main hallway just as Thomas was back on his feet.
“Stop where you are! Reveal to me your passes,” shouted the hallway monitor.
Thinking quickly, Ferrik nudged Thomas in the direction of the corridor closest to them and he began, “They’re in our pockets, just let me reach in the—“
He immediately turned to run the instant the monitor lowered his weapon, which gave him and Thomas just enough time to turn around the corner. In a few seconds, the monitor would catch up to them, and they would almost certainly be horribly maimed, if not killed, and others were quickly approaching, as the pitter-patter of increasingly louder footsteps were quickly congregating on either side of the hallway.
“Yo, Ferrik! What do we do now?” asked Thomas, unable to focus enough to be able to formulate a suitable solution.
“Just open the nearest door and run in,” said Ferrik, twisting the handle of the fourth door in the hallway.
They slammed the door and immediately began scavenging the area for anything that was large and sensible enough to use for blocking, resulting in the rearrangement of many desks and chairs, as well as a lone television monitor that hung in the corner for no apparent reason. The tall pile of what could now be considered art by some now completely enveloped the doorway and the room’s entrance in darkness, and to complete the image, Thomas hung the poster of the cat with the caption, “Hang in there,” on top of the mound school furniture.
“Do try not to be too idiotic, Thomas. It decreases the already small amount of respect I still hold for you.”
“Hey, shut up, Ferrik. It adds to the total weight of the mass of jumbled desks,” said Thomas in defense.
“I didn’t say that, Thomas,” said Ferrik, twisting his head in the direction of the corner of the room.
A white-haired young man was leaning against the corner, with his arms folded and his eyes suggested that he had been sleeping only a moment earlier. His jacket was grey, with black lines around the collar and towards the ends of the arms and a white spade across the front. He was wearing comfortably fitting white pants with nothing truly exceptional aside from the many zippers on either leg.
“Salutations, friends. What brings you to these parts?”
“Mackwell? What are you doing here?” asked Ferrik, perplexed.
“Can’t you come up with something else? I mean, you said the same thing when you encountered me outside,” said Thomas, hanging a lampshade on the massive heap of wood and metal.
“I’m fairly certain that now is not the time for that,” asserted Ferrik.
“Well, Mack… Why are you here?” inquired Thomas.
“Cleaning my wig, what the hell do you think, you sack of dog’s bollocks” responded Mackwell, fairly annoyed by the query. “And why the bloody hell are you wearing a trench coat with a plaid shirt that looks like it belongs on a Scotsman’s kilt. Not to mention the fact that your maroon pants make about as much sense as water spontaneously catching fire without the assistance of any fuel whatsoever.”
“What’s wrong, Mackwell? You’re not usually so deprecating.”
“It’s my wig. It’s beginning to thin out… And I’ve no idea what’s happened to Fiona, as well. One day, we were pleasantly conversing in the courtyard, and the next day, nobody claims to have seen her. I fear something bad may have happened to her, but with those bloody bastards patrolling the grounds, searching for her is pointless.”
“Ah, that’s right. I had nearly forgotten that ol’ Mack didn’t want anyone to know that he’s an albino,” Thomas remarked.
“Shut up, Thomas,” commanded Ferrik. “There’s seems to be more out there than usual today. Do either of you two know why?”
“More than usual?” began Mackwell. “You’ve been practically unconscious for over two weeks straight. Some kid came to school with a local gang and proceeded to fill people with lead. Afterwards, they came to the conclusion that the school board would be safer if there were more people watching out for our safety. It’s a load of bull, really.”
“Hmmm,” Ferrik pondered insightfully. “Well, before we can even consider looking for Fiona, we have to find some way to get out of here without being noticed by the hall monitors.”
“What about the air vents?” asked Thomas.
“Too obvious, Thomas. I’m certain that they have a few people inspecting the pathways up there. I suggest we try underground,” said Mackwell, lifting up a flap of carpeting that had been covering a metallic trapdoor. “Even the school officials haven’t discovered the labyrinth below.”
The mess in front of the door began to fall apart as the monitors were forcing their way through, though they weren’t far enough to get a clear sight of anything inside the room yet.
“Done,” said Ferrik hurriedly, “but won’t they know that we went down there?”
“Don’t worry, it covers itself up,” said Mackwell, sliding down the ladder beneath the metal panel, with his voice echoing as he went further down the corridor.
Thomas and Ferrik looked at one another and shrugged, and Ferrik said, "Looks like I'm not going to class anytime soon."
------That took forever to write, but I'm going to enjoy writing the next part, as I like writing in detail.
Last edited by Fievel
on Tue Feb 02, 2010 1:44 am, edited 3 times in total.