"Holy shit." I mutter, completely dumbfounded at the sight of a man in a full iron bondage suit blundering around a decaying classroom, scrawling away with a nub of chalk in his hand. When attending school today, I never expected to end my day with something as outlandish as this.

The prisoner drops to both his knees with a loud metal clang and he begins writing on the one of the concrete walls, using the tiniest, most miniscule script possible. The fresh words fill in the few empty gaps remaining in the graffiti tarred wall, the competing texts all yelling for my attention yet saying the same thing.

I WILL NOT TALK ABOUT THE PURGE CYCLE.

All very interesting, but I'm now more concerned that I've stumbled into some sicko's private prison. Honestly, it seems obvious in retrospect. The derelict academy had been declared a health hazard and been sealed off from the rest of the school. Anyone with access to the keys would easily be able to turn it into a dungeon without the rest of the students or faculty finding out. The only reason why I made it so far was because our dungeon master cheaped out on maintenance, letting the termite problem get out of hand.

But news always leaks out in some form or other. The stories about students going missing in the old building, rumors about ghost hauntings. People had noticed weird disappearances or strange noises but never bothered to check any further. After all, why risk your own health venturing into a condemned, mold infested husk? All for the sake of checking out a few vague tales?

But this conclusion leaves an even more troubling question.

How long have the disappearances been going on?

"Hey. Hey." I hiss while rapping the classroom door with my knuckles. A shower of powdery wooden flakes stains my shirt sleeve, more evidence that the termites have overtaken nearly everything in this building. Never mind having this place renovated. It should be burned down to its foundations if only to prevent the termites from spreading everywhere.

The prisoner abruptly looks up, ceasing his labors. With near herculean effort, the man struggles against the weights fitted on to his suit, tortuously rising to his feet. He slowly turns in my direction, groping the air with both hands. Now that the prisoner's facing me, I realize that the helmet he wears is fashioned like a smooth metal egg. There are no eye slits for the prisoner to see out of, forcing him to stumble about like a blind man. How he even manages to keep breathing with that helmet on is a complete mystery to me.

I pound the door again, harder this time. The door's surface this time visibly dents from the impact and squirming black grubs emerge from the porous wooden surface. The prisoner, following the noise half stumbles, half runs toward me. But the chains linked to his neck don't have enough slack and tighten mercilessly, leashing the prisoner to the spot. Unlike almost everything in this building, the chains are new, shiny and well polished. And the mountings holding the chains to the concrete walls are securely bolted in. No matter many times the prisoner throws himself forward, he won't be able to free himself.

All the prisoner manages are muffled cries that I can't decipher past the door.

"Screw it. I'm in deep enough shit anyway." I grunt and slam my elbow hard against the offending wooden object. The termite eaten wood splinters, leaving a large hole. A rank smell hits me with full force and I realize that it comes from the prisoner. Whomever kept him here must have forced him to shit and piss himself inside that metal bondage suit. I cover my nose again, the strong scent nearly causing me to throw up.

"Mouse. Mouse is that you?" a weak, hoarse voice rattles from beneath the metal helmet.

"I'm going to get you out." I call back to the wobbling man, "You know how to get rid of those chains on your neck?"

"Not Mouse. Not Mouse." the prisoner almost sounds bemused, "Someone else has come to visit me."

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

"Who's this mouse you keep talking about?" I steady myself before throwing my shoulder into the door. The entire frame shakes and warps from the impact. A few more good hits and I should be able to tear the whole door down.

"Mouse? Mouse used to live up there. High above." the prisoner mumbles pointing vaguely upward. Parts of the false ceiling had crumbled, leaving behind the rusty metal skeleton.

Huh. So whomever visited the prisoner before managed to get inside the classroom using the crawlspace between floors.

"But Mouse got scared. Scared! After all that boasting she did." the prisoner weeps, "She left Bart behind here, in the darkness. After Bart taught her everything there is to know."

"Bart, that's your name?" I slam against the door another time, the wood nearly giving way, "I'm not scared of whatever clown set this dungeon up. So don't worry."

"You should be scared." Bart sits down on the floor in an exhausted heap, "Mouse was soft, quiet, careful. You're not like Mouse. Loud. They will know you're here."

"They?" a trill of fear runs down my spine. I had thought it strange there were no guards in this dungeon. Now it turns out that the guards were just hanging around somewhere else?

"The Faceless Men." Bart whispers in near terror, "Stop making all that noise and open your ears! Can't you hear it?"

I immediately stop ramming the door and yes, I do hear it.

Footsteps.

Confident, broad footsteps approaching my direction.

"They're coming." Bart's fear is palpable, "Run, run, before you end up like me."

"I'll return, I swear it." I promise the poor man slumping on the floor in utter defeat.

"Mouse promised too." Bart wails sadly, "But remember something, the purge cycle. You must outlast the purge cycle."

"What do you mean?" I grit out, eager to flee. But a part of me demands that I listen to what Bart is trying to say. As if he's imparting a vital secret that I had to know.

"To outlast the purge cycle is to outlast death itself." the prisoner gets to his knees and implores, "And as long as you live, Bart can always hope for rescue."

"I understand." A lie. How could anyone understand what's going on here? But Bart is right about one thing. I had to leave before the dungeon's guards caught up with me.

I bolt down the corridor at full sprint, doubling back toward the new school building. As my pursuer picks up his pace as well, Bart lets out a loud, animalistic scream. Bart's helping me escape, trying to force the guard to investigate his cell. And the gamble works out. The guard's footsteps immediately divert toward Bart's direction.

Damn it, I wanted to play hero back there. In the end, I was the one that needed help from the guy kept in chains. My pride's wounded but my common sense urges me onward. Whomever runs this place doesn't give a shit about due process. And I'm not keen on finding out what wonderful world of torture awaits any intruder the dungeon master gets their hands on.

"Oh, thank god." blessed relief fills my veins as the door separating the two buildings comes into view. Barging right through the door, I don't bother about the racket I had to be making. First things first, I need to get out of the school. There's no telling when the dungeon guard will decide to continue their pursuit of me. Once I lose myself in the crowds of the city, I should be in the clear. Then I can sit down and try to work out what Bart had been trying to tell me.

Or more likely, go to the police and let them handle this. This is way more serious than any delinquent student can handle. So I should just pass it on to the professionals.

"Carl!" I yell while dashing into the classroom we were cleaning up, "There's bad shit going down -"

And of course Carl isn't here. His blazer is no longer left on the teacher's chair and the classroom's floor is sparkling, meaning that he's most likely moved on and cleaning somewhere else now. Most probably he went home, having assumed that I had ditched him and detention. How long was I wandering about in the dungeon anyway? I peer out of the window.

Long enough for darkness to fall. Damn it. No wonder nobody's around. All the more reason to make myself scarce as well.

As I move to retrieve my Rutger's blazer, I notice there's something sitting by the classroom window. Its a rat.

Or rather, its the rat I saw in the train.

The rat gives me a disinterested look before returning to staring out of the window. I follow suit and to my surprise, a pair of black SUVs are barreling straight into the campus grounds.

"Two cars this time. What could have changed?"

I cast my eyes around to find who's speaking before realizing the obvious. That's the rat's voice I'm hearing.

"Hello?" I announce myself to the rat, wondering if I've really gone crazy from the stress.

"Oh?" the rat regards me with its tiny black eyes, "This is something new as well."

"What's new?" I resist the urge to start laughing to myself. Talking to a rat. That's normal right? Totally not something an insane lunatic would do.

"You managing to understand me Robert." the rat nods, "So I suppose greetings are in order."

"I'm Mouse. Pleased to meet you."