The Rat in The Signal

Chapter 15

Art by me

Rat squeaking, human speaking

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Seven returned to the skylight shortly after, lifting the lid up and dropping down, closing it behind him.

He got to packing, already collecting what supplies he needed before he left: the blanket from his bed, a notebook, a few books he could read during what little downtime the outside world would possibly give him.

His blue eyes scanned over to his desk, looking for any spare explosives he kept in his room in case of emergency. He gave an annoyed groan as he noticed his hidden pouches of gunpowder missing, chalking it up to Rain getting rid of them when she was taking care of his room.

Rain... he should at least say goodbye to her, besides he had to leave to get his backpack to put all this stuff in.

He left his room, walking down the short tunnel that acted as a hallway, finding himself in the dining room. Kids were preparing the tables, while some were already laying out plans as to what food they would go for first.

Right, the feast. Mono said something about it. Maybe he could leave before then, he didn't trust that trash bag headed, white noise making piece of shit. Plus, the faster he was out of here, the better off he would be.

He walked across, the kids not paying him any mind, just like normal. He glanced over the room, wondering where would be good spots to hide gunpowder and nitroglycerin at. Under the table? Maybe by the torches, just have to be careful.

He walked through the linger tunnel towards the pyrotech room, the half baked ground under his feet slightly warm from whatever recently fire Bread had made.

Seven's blue eyes looked around, before finally finding what his former apprentice was trying to make. Homemade cherry bombs, a simple explosive, though recreating them was mildly difficult if you didn't really know what they were doing. Were all of these explosive going to be used on the City? They'd be lucky if either them or the buildings were still even standing after they unleash all of this...

He collected his backpack, stuffing a few minor explosives in as well, making sure they were all in their own special spots as to not explode on his back.

Molotov cocktails carefully slotted in the lose interior pockets, a bundle of firecrackers in small lapel to avoid being damaged, a few small pouches of gunpowder, a vial of gasoline and nitroglycerin--

Special Molotov recipe, he needed it, he couldn't leave it here. He got up from the ground where he had been previously when packing, coming to his desk and filtering through a stack of notes.

Nothing, not it, nope, that's wrong, that's wrong... that one is wrong... nope... nope... nope... where was --aha!

He took the paper, sighing in relief. Younger him wasn't a complete idiot for writing it down of different sheets of paper, mostly due to reason like this. Of course, not exactly like this, but if he ever got exiled or something of that degree. He wasn't 'safe' after all.

Luckily, this was only a list of a quarter of what was in it, not giving the whole details. Getting up from the desk, he ripped the paper, dumping it into the small bucket of water next to the desk. His ears were filled with the sound of chatter from the other room; shit, what time was it? How long did he have left?

He took his bag, slinging it onto his shoulders. It wasn't like anyone would notice him anyway, so why worry?

The former pyrotech left, passing through the dining room once more. Loud cheering as songs were sung, and just like he suspected, no one noticed him. Good.