Marrick took one look at the notice and tore it down. He ripped it in half and tossed it in the trashcan, then glanced back at Brynt.

"And you were just 'released'?"

"Apparently they have an odd way of determining whether someone should be allowed back into the public. They let me in even though you're probably more ready than I am." Brynt glanced at Marrick from the side. "What are you planning on doing?"

"Where have the police been alerted?"

The hours passed. The first man finished the papers and looked at the others. Neither returned the attention. Both were now staring at the door, consciously or otherwise it wasn't clear.

The first man slowly turned his head towards the door.

At that moment, the hinged piece of wood opened. A brown-haired, gray-eyed young man stepped in, dressed in a white lab suit and carrying a clipboard. He glanced at the three at the desks in front of him. And he smiled, a condescending smile.

“My name is Cliff. I'm here to tell you, your time is up.”

A gray room, its walls void of any decor. Three desks, stationed in three corners. In the fourth corner was a locked door.

At the first desk, there was a man of about twenty years old, diligently scratching words on page after page of questions to answer, decisions to make ...and the reasons why. Only briefly would his dark green eyes leave the page and wander towards the door, but then the golden brown shock of hair on his head would drop down again, back to his work.