I'll never say

The cool down

A / N
Damn it feels good to be back. Writing is fun, This is fun. more at the end. But just know, starting with this chapter, and the next few, will be a lot calmer. We won't be seeing a whole lot of Tay and kai, check the info book for more info on that.

Black leader sorted through the files on his desk, 6 folders in a pile of 6 different people. He opened one, finding a picture of a smiling male with short chestnut hair and thick eyebrows. Paul ter vorder was written at the top of the file. 40 years old, married to Patryck ter vorder and father of Tord Larson. It was such a shame that he was so far gone this far into the game. 

A quiet huff left the Brits mouth as he glared down at the papers stacked neatly inside the tan folder. 

"You poor unfortunate soul." he sighed, shutting the folder and picking up the next file.  A closed lip smile and chocolate brown hair pulled into a ponytail at the base of his neck. Patryck ter vorder. A young, 39 year old man.  Such a vital aspect, a key player, wounded. 

"We'll have to restore your health, your current stats just won't do." He sighed as four of his soldiers entered his office.

"Do you know why i've called you into my office today?" Black leader asked, closing the file and setting it down with the rest. The first person stepped up, they're blond hair falling to their face.

"Because of the condition we've put our prisoners in." Kai responded professionally.

"I gave you simple tasks, and you couldn't even do that. Do you think i have the time for this?"

"No sir.."

"It's been 3 months and you still haven't gotten anything out of him! How much longer am I going to have to wait?" Black leader snapped, slamming his fist against his dark oak desk. 

"He's a lot more resilient than we thought. He'd rather die than give up his base location.." Tay said, bowing her head. Black leader gridded his teeth in annoyance.

"Haven't you tried anything with Paul or Patryck? Oh wait, Pay gravely injured Patryck and Kai drove Paul insane!" He screamed! They flinched at his angry screams.

"Patryck isn't-"

"SILENCE! I don't want to hear another thing from you. We are wasting time and resources on them. I want this information and I want this man dead. You have 4 more months, if not I'll get it myself, and no one will survive. Do I make myself clear?" He growled.

"Yes sir." They all responded in unison.

"Now get out of my sight before I change my mind." The 4 of them all quickly shuffled out of his office. Black leader sighed in irritation, grabbing three files and opening them up. A grinning ginger, Matthew haygiving, working as trainee nurse. A frowning brit with mousy brown hair, Thomas Rosewell, a musician. A brunette grinning ear to ear, Edward gold, an artist. All of them were dating Tord Larsøn. He clicked his tongue, shuting them and placing them in their respective places.

Opening the last file on his desk, Tord larsøn, a picture of his face from before the crash. "Don't you worry, Tord larsøn, this will be over very soon." He chuckled darkly. "It's only a matter of time, and now that we have all the pieces, the real game can begin." 

_________

Pay grabbed a few roles of bandages, moving throughout the medical-bey while keeping an eye on his patients. He sighed softly, going over a mental list of things he needed to do. He needed to change his patients' bandages, feed them, and transport them to their rooms.

He moved over to the younger male, a water bottle and granola bar in hand. He gently shook him awake, watching his tired silver eyes open. "Come on, time for me to change your bandages." He said, helping him sit up. The boy didn't fight him, nodding along with half lidded eyes. Pay unraveled the bandages from his mouth and arms, inspecting his wounds to make sure there weren't any infections.