A View from the Solarium RETRACTION: I could have and should have done a clear-cut Part One / Part Two document thing, but I was set in my ways, I suppose.

DISCLAIMER: In no way could any of this stuff ever happen in real life, and I'm sure some people will get enormously offended while reading this (maybe), so maybe you should go read something else, especially if you don't like reading long stories like this. If you thought "High School: It's A Concept - The Parody" was long, check this out!

TARGETS:

Part III: Chose an Ending.
Part IV: Afterword.

ADVISORY: I hope you at least make a valiant effort to read "The CPA Revolution" before you start on this document.

            "Now this looks like the hard part. How do we get you out the door past the guards?"
            Will and Ms. Cosman were stuck behind a garbage can in the lobby, for the moment safe from the prying eyes and ears of the four entryway guards.
            "I don't know how I can manage this, ma'am. I'm running out of clichés."
            "Wait... I think I know you. Didn't your mother do the cover art for 'Cooking Liberally'?"
            "Yes, she did. Oh, wait a second. I do indeed have another idea. If we can just cause a scene..." Will got up and beckoned Ms. Cosman to follow suit. He yelled to the guards, "Look out! I've got a bomb! Don't shoot me, or this whole place will go up!"
            The guards, startled, let them go through the entrance.
            One of the guards noticed that he didn't really have a bomb as Will and the MLA zoomed through. Gunshots ensued.
            "Run!!", Will shouted. Within a few seconds, they safely reached the police barriers.
            Ms. Cosman was immediately loaded into a cruiser, and two more cruisers were boarded for escort purposes. Soon, there were six less officers in front of CPA.
            "Well, people. A job well done. Let's split.", said the chief.
            "Wait! What about the school! People are in danger-"
            "Well, you're the President Interim. You do something."

            Will was soon back in the school, crawling through the ventilation ducts. Shawn and Ms. Beazley had the presence of mind to equip him with a radio. Shawn was examining the blueprints, and Ms. Beazley handled the radio.
            Will, covered with dust, struggled to hold back his coughs. He could barely see, and he had to resort to feeling his way around.
            "Will, Shawn tells me to ask where you are again.", crackled the radio.
            "Uh, near as I can tell, in a ventilation duct."
            "Ha-ha. Seriously."
            "Um... I see some pipes labeled A-134."
            "Hang on a second... okay, you're on the right track as far as we know. Shawn is still looking for a duct that leads into the gymnasium."
            "I wouldn't be suprised if there weren't any. It gets real hot in there... ahhh!"
            "Will, what happened?"
            "There was this intense blast of hot air. Ack... it was so hot it was painful."
            "Shawn says that may lead to the gym. Follow the hot air."
            "Yeah... okay."
            Ten minutes later, Will broke the radio silence. "Okay, I think I have to climb now. If you hear a loud crashing noise, then you might as well both head home."
            "Understood."
            "Errghh... ughh..." -SCRAPE- "Fuc-dge! Ah... blast... Errgghhh... ughh..." -BONK- "Stupid rotten piece of crap! Oh, fu-dge! ... Errgghh... ughh..." -SCRAPE- "Fuc-dge! Ah... blast... ..."
            This went on for several minutes as Will climbed up to the second level. Finally, he made it to the next duct.
            "Okay, I'm up. I see some pipes labeled 'A-134'... D'oh!"
            "How is that possible, Will? Didn't you climb up?"
            "Wait... false alarm... I did. It says A-138. Can't see too well in here."
            "Will, Shawn says you're only a few feet away from the stage vent now. Follow A-138 to a junction."
            A brief pause. "Okay, I'm at the junction. What now?"
            "Go right."
            "Okay, I can see through a grate, it's the stage... I can see a cage here... Devon Day's inside it... oh my God! They're going to execute her! I have to save her!"
            "Sure, Will."
            Will craned his neck so he could see properly through the grill. "Pssst! Devon!"
            Devon turned around from within the cage and whispered back, "Will, you bloody selfish pig. If you hadn't escaped like that, I'd be with my friends now!"
            "Shh... look, I'll figure something out."
            "You'd better! You're responsible for getting me into this!"
            "And I'm also responsible for getting you out of this. If I toss something through this grill, do you think you could pick it up?"
            "Yeah."
            Will silently passed the key he obtained from the guard during his own escape though the grill. Devon reached out of her enclosure (it was an eagle cage), picked up the key and unlocked the cage. "Now how do I get out of here?", she asked.
            "No problem.", Will coolly replied. "All I have to do is open this grate, and we'll be-"
            "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN AND TOUGHMEN OF EITHER SEX, I GIVE YOU... DEVON DAY!!"
            The curtain gave way, and the spotlight shone on Devon's open cage and Will in the duct.
            "WELL, WELL, WELL. HOW CUTE, FOLKS! SHE'S BEING RESCUED BY THE GALLANT FORMER GRADE TWELVE REP!!"
            "That's Acting President, bub!"
            "HOW ABOUT WE GET THEM BOTH, FOLKS?"
            The crowd cheered, hoping that as soon as they were knocked off, they could perhaps return to class.
            "YOU! SEND SOMEONE UP TO GET THAT FAT KID OUT OF THE VENT!!"

            "Uh-oh, I think he's in trouble!", exclaimed Ms. Harbord.
            Back in the staff room, the teachers were hunched over one of the computer terminals, watching Will's movements closely on the CPA Sensor Network.
            "Cut power to the gym, it might slow them down.", suggested Mr. Plato.
            "Affirmative.", reported Mr. LeRoux, operating the terminal.

            "AND IT LOOKS LIKE WE'LL GET TO WATCH TWO PEOP-le get... what the hey?"
            The TSF leader called over another operative. "We're going to have to do this the old fashioned way. I want you to set up two lynching devices, I believe you remember the specifications."
            "Yes, sir!"
            The grill was finally forced open, and Will and Devon were dragged to the center of the stage in short order. Coarse ropes attached to the ceiling beams were tied around their necks, and they were placed above a large trap door. It looked to them like it was the end!
            "Devon! Remember that time in Drama class when I said I hated you and I thought your brain and tapioca were of roughly the same consistency?", Will struggled to say.
            "Oh, how could I forget?", she replied.
            "I... I... I meant every word."
            "Oh... and I meant it when I said I'd vote for you over Kendra Bernard as soon as the New Kids on the Block™ release another number one hit!"
            "Ah... I figured that out for myself!"
            The TSF leader decided to do the honors. He walked across the stage to the lever labeled 'TRAP DOOR', and put his hand on the handle in a decisive manner.
            "This is what happens to those who defy the TSF!!" He pulled the lever.
            In an instant, Will and Devon's necks pressed hard against the rope, not breaking their necks just yet, but enough to ensure slow asphyxiation.
            In another instant, the ceiling beam bent so badly due to their weight that their still-living bodies and the ropes sank beneath the trap floor, allowing their feet to touch solid ground once again.

            "I knew that design defect would come in handy some day!", shouted Mr. LeRoux with glee.

            "Okay, people!", shouted the TSF leader to the crowd. "Looks like we screwed this one up... we won't be able to knock them off until the power comes back on in here."
            "Aww...", responded the crowd.
            Down below, Will and Devon were busy trying to free themselves from the rope.
            "Will! See if you can reach my pocket knife!"
            "Wow! You carry a pocket knife?"
            "Shut up and get it out... there. Now try to cut these ropes!"
            Two minutes later, the TSF leader had another idea. "Why don't we just hoist the ropes up by hand, it'll be the same thing! Joe, Mike! Do it!"
            Joe and Mike did as they were told.
            The ropes were empty.

            By now, Will had led Devon through another set of ventilation ducts to the point where he had taken the junction towards the stage.
            "Okay, now there's a bit of a drop up ahea-aaaaaaaad!!" THUD.
            "Huh?... Eeeee!" THUD.
            "Ouch!!", complained Will.
            Will and Devon continued along for a while until they reached the outside where Shawn and Ms. Beazley were waiting for something to happen.
            "Where were you?!", yelled Ms. Beazley. "The last we heard you say was, 'They're going to execute her! I have to save her!'!"
            "I'm afraid they confiscated my radio when I was supposedly being prepped for execution."
            "Oh... well, that's going to be a problem for... Objective Three: To rescue Ray Whitman from the TSF operative assigned to him, and bring him back to the outside if he so wishes."
            "Yeah, well the three of you are going in with me this time! I'm sick of this going in and out business. Sooner or later, they're going to look out the windows and find us here."
            "So we all go in and get killed.", Shawn commented grimly.
            "If it comes to that, yes. We have to figure out what to do about the rest of these objectives. Two out of eight ain't good. Let me have a look at that thing again."

Mission: Cheetah (objectives listed in order of importance)
1. To rescue Francene Cosman and bring her back to the outside at once. This shall take priority over any other objective.
2. To shut down the execution facilities of the TSF, and, if necessary, rescue the occupants of "Death Row".
3. To rescue Ray Whitman from the TSF operative assigned to him, and bring him back to the outside if he so wishes.
4. To re-instate the legitimate Student's Council at CPA, and to that end, possibly temporarily assume leadership of it until said crisis is over with.
5. To rid the premises of the TSF and all its operatives by whatever means necessary.
6. To return all hostages to their classes by 1530h on Friday ("Funday") to avoid nasty parental lawsuits.
7. To make certain Sackville High never hears of this incident.
8. To, if captured, make sure captives do not read this mission primer.

            "Okay, I think we'd better split this one up. A recognized harbinger of disciplinary doom (that's you, Ms. Beazley) should take care of getting Mr. Whitman from Robbie Truman, and, quite frankly, it won't be that difficult a job. You can also tell him our collective opinion of those Emergency Measures.
            Shawn, I think you should handle getting the Student Council, such as it is, back together. They may play a part in this yet.
            I'll handle the rest. I'll see if I can get some more people to help me though, it won't be easy.
            Devon, people like you, they hate me, so I need your help in getting help."
            "Natch.", she replied.

            Ms. Beazley crouched underneath the window to Mr. LeRoux's office, waiting for an opportunity to sneak inside. Her cue was Robbie Truman.
            "You know, Ray... you should try arriving at school late sometime, but we'll be in charge, and we'll make you struggle for an 'Admit to Class' slip!!", she overheard him say to Mr. Whitman.
            "Well... I always acted within all regulation-", he tried to reply.
            "YOU'RE BLOODY RIGHT YOU DID!!"
            During the verbal assault, Ms. Beazley jumped inside and knocked Robbie over the head with her Survival Kit.
            "Waste of a good kit, isn't it, Mr. Whitman?"

            "Well, I guess it's just one of those things that happen sometimes.", said Ken.
            "Yep.", agreed Dave. "In all my years of bus driving, I've only seen this happen three times."
            "You mean watching a militant movement take over a school like this?"
            "No, I mean having no one show up for the busses leaving school."
            "Point. This place gives me the creeps. Let's get out of here."
            210 and 213 sped off, the other busses quickly followed suit.

            The Student Council of a time past (minus Angela and Will) had holed up in the Drama room, now unused and empty. They sat on the floor playing cards, pencil and paper games and doing other things of that sort to amuse themselves while CPA fell all around them.
            At that precise moment in time, Shawn fell out of a ceiling vent. THUD.
            "Huh?", uttered Tim Martin, his game of Canasta with Mark Louch and the two Brians interrupted.
            "Uh... well, I'm Shawn Ahmed. You might remember me from the election, I ran against Brian Haas and Mark Louch here."
            "Oh, you're the guy who stole all my votes and let Jer win!", shouted Brian.
            "Hey!", shouted Jer.
            "Wait! Let's not shout like this, okay?", advised Kelly Brien. "We'll just end up giving our location away to that blasted TSF!"
            "Point.", said Jer.
            "Why are you here?", Brian Haas asked Shawn.
            "It's part of Will's mission to restore CPA to how it was before. Part of it is to get all you people back together waiting in the wings for Will to polish off the TSF."
            "Do you really think Will could do that?", asked Brian MacKay.
            "Yeah, like he couldn't even escort Ms. Cosman to the computer lab without allowing the school's administrative structure to collapse and introduce anarchy.", put in Kendra Bernard.
            "That's not the point! He's the only one who can- by the way, Jer, he took over your position until you people are back in business - ... he's the only one who can... can... um... well, he volunteered for the job, I guess."
            Jer was angered. "That twit is now the President?!"
            "President Interim. You'll get your job back soon."
            "Oh, God, there's no hope left when they put him in a position of power.", sighed Kendra.
            "Now there's something we can agree on.", commented Brianna Courneya.
            "Ah... she's right, Shawn. There's no hope. Let's get back to playing games already.", said Jer.
            The Council grimily re-shuffled their cards and started playing once more.
            "I have worse news. Ms. MacKenzie went missing."
            Silence.
            "Don't you care that your advisor went missing?!"
            "Maybe she'll miss a few meetings...", said Olivia Hasler.
            "Ack... don't you people care about anything?!"
            "When's the next Pep Rally?", asked Jon Saunders.
            "Kendra was right! There is no hope, as long as you lethargic morons sit here in despair. Think, you could be heroes if you help Will overthrow the TSF. You'll save lives! You'll gain popularity!"
            "Hey... yeah!", a good many of them started to say.
            "You'll all go down in history as the Student Council that did more! The Council that was successful! The Council that nobody got kicked off of (now there's something to aim for)! The Council that you'll all be proud to have served on when you get older!"
            "YEAH!!", they all shouted.
            "Because, let's face facts, this is really the end of the line for most of you! Odds are you'll never ever make it politically like this again! This is the last stop! Make it good!"
            They all frowned and almost returned to their cards.
            "Blissfully ignore that last paragraph."
            "YEAH!!"

            Devon and Will, both coated with a thick layer of dust, proceeded slowly through the second floor ducts towards the southeast side of the building.
            "Where the bleep are we going?", asked Devon.
            "The Staff Room.", Will replied shortly.
            "Why?"
            "Well... I did call in all my favors just to be permitted nomination... but maybe I can still get them to help me overthrow the TSF, though it will use up every last little bit of favor I have left."
            "I never knew you had any favor."
            "Well, I suppose you could say it's uneven. Here we are! Now this is where it gets tricky." Will knocked out the grill and he and Devon leaped out onto the Staff Room floor.
            Devon looked around in disbelief. "There's no one here! What a bunch of-"
            "Please state your identity."
            "What?", Devon exclaimed.
            "Will Matheson, Grade Twelve Representative, Acting President."
            "Since you have been admitted before, you are permitted to use the intercom function."
            "What's that voice?", asked a bewildered Devon.
            "It's the Staff Room computer. Don't ask questions.", Will advised.
            "Please talk after the beep."
            BEEP.
            "Um... hi, this is Will again, I need some help in overthrowing the TSF, and you people are the folks with the hardware, so..."
            "You have been admitted."
            The simulation dissolved and the real Staff Room, the one with the LA-Z-BOYs™, appeared around them. Mr. LeRoux got up to greet Will.
            "Hi... uh, who let her in?"
            "Oh, I just followed Will! What is this plac-" She never finished her sentence,  Mr. LeRoux took her to Slumberland with a quick dose from the hypospray.
            "We can't have outsiders just following you in here, Will. Anyway, she's asleep now, so she'll think this was all a dream.", he explained.
            "Wow. Too bad.", Will commented.

            The former Student's Council underwent a transformation at that point. For it was no longer the Student's Council... but the spearhead of The CPA Revolution Against The TSF, and they were to traverse the entire building, finding others willing to fight for the cause.

Supreme Commander - Jeremy Ross Strong
Tactical Officer - Colin MacDonald
Supplies & Procurement - Kelly Brien
Communications Specialist - Kendra Bernard
Lieutenant Commanders: Brian Haas
                                             Mark Louch
                                             Brian MacKay
                                             Tim Martin
Lieutenants: Brianna Courneya
                      Olivia Hasler
                      Karlie MacKenzie
                      Sarah Ready
                      Jon Saunders
Lieutenants Junior Grade: Roy DeYoung
                                              Erin Dillon
                                              Laura Johnson
                                              Jaclyn Saunders
                                              Jamie Taylor
Mission Specialist - Shawn Ahmed

            And it was Kendra Bernard, Communications Specialist, who marked this precise point in time as the beginning of the end of the Tantalon Separation Federation's rule over Charles Pillsbury Allen High School.
            Jer led them out of the Drama room, and many in that small group wondered if they would ever see it again.

            "This is totally unacceptable, Ms. Beazley. I must have a talk with Mr. LeRoux about a few things." Mr. Whitman strolled out of the office, and slowly made his way up the rubble strewn Main Stairwell, past the Solarium, and into the "back door" of the Staff Room, where he was quickly recognized and admitted by the local computers.
            The first thing he saw after passing through the simulation was Will sitting near a computer terminal.
            "You aren't supposed to be here!", he shouted.
            Mr. LeRoux stepped between Will and the principal. "It's all right, Mr. Whitman, he's with me. I needed to look up the disciplinary files of some key TSF operatives, and I asked him to watch me and perhaps help me out if he could."
            "How did he get in here!?" Mr. Whitman was fuming.
            "We had a vote and let him in. He 'won' by two votes!"
            "Wow, my popularity among you people just soars.", Will said with a note of sarcasm.
            "That's enough, Will.", warned Mr. LeRoux.
            "And, Mr. Whitman... well, I found out about this from the computer and a sheet of paper Will was carrying. It's something I should tell you in private."
            "Okay.", consented Mr. Whitman, and so they walked behind the 75¢ pop machine.
            "Will is now the President Interim."
            "Ha-ha. Excuse me for a minute." Mr. Whitman calmly walked into the washroom, and shut the door behind him.
            After yelling out many indistinguishable profanities, he emerged from the washroom. "All right, Mr. LeRoux, I've thought this through. I will give Will ten seconds to leave and work on re-instating Jeremy Strong, or I will expel him again."
            Mr. LeRoux walked back to his terminal. "Okay, I think you should go now, Will. Thanks for snitching on the TSF operatives for me."
            "Well, I don't usually snitch... the last time I really snitched was when Mark Wilbur tried to strangle me and then picked me up and threw me down the playground hill at SLA, and my arm hit a rock, and I broke it. My arm, I mean. Ms. Walcowiack made me say who it was before she took me to the Cobequid Center." Will then got up and left. Devon was tossed outside behind him.
            Will dragged her onto the Solarium bench. Ten minutes later, she woke up.
            "Wow... I must have fell asleep... Will?! What are you doing here? You know, I just had the craziest dream, and you of all people were in it... and there were these pipes, and I was about to be executed, and you were there, and there was this awesome Staff Room... it was amazing! But what am I doing here sleeping so late in the afternoon?"
            "Well, I'll clue you in a little. Everything except the Staff Room bit is true. A grate fell out from under you while we were crawling through a ventilation duct, and you fell onto the hallway floor and hit your head. I guess you must have dreamed up the rest."
            "Wow... I guess I did.", she murmured.
            "Well, time to wake up at any rate. I need you to help me recruit help like we arranged earlier. And I have good news. I saw Mr. Whitman in... I mean, um, I saw him earlier. It looks like Ms. Beazley completed her objective successfully. Four more objectives to go!"

            The Revolution inner circle walked into the Pickle Jar Office, as per Shawn's suggestion.
            "We will fill the newspaper with Revolution propaganda, and then distribute it to the entire student population! We will convince everyone to fight the good fight! STOP THE PRESSES!", he shouted excitedly.

            Will, in an experiment of sorts, walked into one of the few overlooked classes, still in session. It was taking place in Room 313, it was Mr. Lyne's math class!!
            "You could have knocked.", Mr. Lyne told him. "Sit down!"
            Will nervously took a seat near the door.
            "You will speak when I am finished, and not a moment before."
            Ten minutes later, he finished the equation at hand. "Now...", he turned to Will. "What is is that is so urgent that is has to interrupt my class?"
            "Well, I'm looking to recruit people to join me in marching into the gymnasium and overthrowing the TSF inner circle, basically to return CPA to normal."
            A student in the back raised her hand. "A question from the back.", said Mr. Lyne. "Go ahead."
            "What is the TSF?", she asked.
            "The Tantalon Separation Federation. They intend to separate from Canada and Nova Scotia, I think, or so I've been led to believe.", Will replied.
            "How can we trust you?", another student asked.
            "YEAH!!", shouted most of the class.
            "Gimme them tiets, Will.", said Barry Sibley.
            "Can I kill him, Mr. Lyne?", asked Will.
            "No.", said Mr. Lyne. "And I'll thank you to get out of my classroom, you lying serpent!"
            "Okay, Devon! C'mon in!", Will shouted in the direction of the entrance.
            Devon Day confidently strode inside the classroom. "Will here wants people to join his cause to overthrow the TSF. Who's interested?", she asked with a smile.
            The entire class raised their hands.
           God, I need her even more than I thought!

            "Done! There's the last copy!", Shawn shouted with glee.
            "Now what do we do?", asked Jer.
            "We distribute it."
            "What do we do with all this... stuff?", Kendra asked from the back corner, where she stood beside huge stacks of greyscale drawings.
            "Um... I think those are 'The Best of Supermodel Erin' proofs by Lisa MacLeod. We'll leave those for next issue."

            Devon and Will had so far recruited 75 students to help overthrow the TSF. They entered yet another classroom, and as usual now, Will let Devon make the proposal to ensure agreement.
            They all agreed to help, and that brought the total up to 99.
            Will noticed that Aaron Pollard was in the room, sitting at a corner desk, telling fortunes to pass the time.
            "Hey! Aaron!"
            "Hello, Will. Haven't seen you in a while. Where have you been?"
            "Oh, nowhere special. Just broke out of TSF confinement, took on position of President interim, rescued Ms. Cosman, almost got executed alongside Devon Day, identified the TSF inner circle, and spent a little time recruiting fellow students to overthrow the TSF. Average day."
            "Yeah, yesterday was a little harrier, wasn't it?"
            "Maybe. That's really up for debate. Anyhow, I don't suppose you could tell my fortune or anything?"
            "Oh, sure! Shuffle this deck."
            Will shuffled the Tarot deck, then handed it over to Aaron for him to arrange.
            "Okay, Will. This is going to be a little different. See, things are a little too unpredictable at this point to predict your future reliably. Just pick out three cards and put them face down on here one at a time."
            Will did as he was asked.
            "Okay... the first card... the Death card. And... it's pointing at you. That's the most probable outcome."
            "Damn! How?"
            "Um... I have no idea. Try the second card."
            Will again did as he was asked.
            "Okay... the second card... the Despair card. And... wow! It's pointing at you! I think you could interpret this to mean that you will stay alive for now, but things will not have worked out quite right."
            "Well, that sure beats dying."
            "I think that's the second most probable outcome. Try the third card."
            Will set down the third card.
            "It's the Eternal Happiness card. And it's pointing at you. I can honestly say I've never seen anything like this before, Will."
            "Hmm... does that mean I will be eternally happy?", Will asked hopefully.
            "No, because this particular card is inversely oriented. It has to point at me for you to be happy."
            "Damn!! Damn!! Damn!!"
            "But it does mean something nice will happen soon. Don't lose hope yet!"
            "So what should I do?"
            "Well, by looking at the whole situation here, I think very soon you will be presented with an important choice. The consequences of that choice are sitting right here on this table. Basically, I would advise that you think before you act. Or, in your case, think before you say anything."
            "That's just common-sense advice."
            "I know, but that's all I can tell you, the cards are as silent as Julie Brownell when you try to talk to her, Will."
            "I see. Well, thanks for the advice. I suppose Devon and I are behind on the recruiting. We'd better... Hal! Good to see you! You know, it's not really safe to roam the halls alone anymore! Where did you come from?"
            "That doesn't matter.", replied Hal. "But if you have any intentions of completing that mission, I have something important to tell you.", he said grimily. "The TSF aren't really the ones in charge! Their primary investor is the Mafia!"
            The entire class drew a harsh breath at that statement.
            "So what you're saying is..."
            "If we re-take the school, we'll be the ones in hock to the Mafia!"
            "That does add a new wrinkle to things.", commented Aaron. "But it explains a lot."
            "Like what?", Will asked.
            "Well, how do you think they got all those weapons?"
            "Point. Well, there's no time to lose anymore. We're going in with what we got. Devon, go back to all the rooms we visited and get them all to meet me by the main entrance to the gymnasium. We're going to do this in style!"

            Jen Holdway was now incredibly bored and uncomfortable. She lacked anything to occupy her mind, and so she was now trying to count the bricks in the gym walls.
            She was suddenly distracted by some shouting. She spun around and eyed the entrance nearest the Pit Stairwell. A group of students who vaguely reminded her of the former Student's Council marched inside carrying big boxes labeled 'PICKLE JAR: EMERGENCY DISTRIBUTION'. They began to open the boxes and throw the newspapers to the crowd.
            The TSF soldiers reacted quickly, but to no avail. Before they could do anything, great throngs of students were reading the latest Pickle Jar, chock-full of Revolution propaganda.
            But the TSF soldiers now had more problems to deal with. Will and Devon marched inside through the main entrance, followed by 99 vengeful students, all chanting "Destroy the TSF! Destroy the TSF!"
            At that precise moment in time, the TSF was reduced from a formidable militant force to hapless individual operatives who were quickly overpowered by their hostages. A few tried to fire their weapons, but to no avail whatsoever, except for the firing noise, and some students who screamed at the sound.
            "Don't you know that no one can fire an unauthorized weapon inside a school?", Will asked an operative who was trying to kill him. "The devices planted by all the entryways reduce your bullets to blanks! It pays to visit the Staff Room!"
            The brawl ensued. A few students were knocked out by the weapons themselves, but overall the students had a decisive advantage, if only due to their impressive number.
            The TSF leader and the Gibb brothers realized that their time was through.
            "It is time to flee. I know when I am beaten. Follow me.", he commanded. They disappeared into the ventilation duct on stage, hidden by the curtain.
            Only Will, who was too 'chicken' to fight, saw their escape. Will, alone among many, ran up to the stage, up the steps, and straight to the duct in pursuit.
            - INSERT CHASE SCENE MUSIC HERE -
            He climbed in and tried to get a sense of where they went.
            "Jamie! You fool! You fool!", echoed through the pipes.
            Will followed the sound as far as he could. As near as he could tell, he was somewhere on the third floor now. But, suddenly, he arrived at a junction of the pipes. He could go straight ahead, turn left, or turn right.
            Covered with dust, hacking beyond belief, and with no clues whatsoever, Will was forced to make a decision. NOW. In a strange inspiration, Will made up his weakened mind. He crawled into...

If you actually read this far, then you can stop for now. A target up at the top of the page can return you here later.

            Now it's your turn to influence events. This is based on a basic principle, if you hate me, you'll want to see me fail, if you tolerate me, you won't care too much either way, and will want to see a realistic outcome, if you have on occasion expressed a positive response to me, then you may want to see me succeed.

            Click here if you hate me. (or if you want to see me get my lumps anyway)
            Click here if you tolerate me. (or if you're a real pessimist anyway)
            Click here if you rate any higher than 'tolerate'. (or if you're a real optimist anyway)
            Click here if you wanted to read them all anyway.

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