Within the room, Javier and his cohort were locked in a stale look-off– a staring contest.
Tension brewing in the mix while they stood at the edges of the class, wary of the other.
What had played out so far was far from their expectations. In fact, it was anything but, and they were beginning to brew in the consequences.
Or at least what seemed like it.
Javier, ever composed– though startled for a while back, there was at the forefront, four other Lecturers standing beside him.
Well, what should have been the Lecturers?
These were merely robed figures, masked by the aura of their Cult, enveloped by the open arms of their will, and soaked in the blood of their convictions.
The real Lecturers had been stealthily killed at the time they entered the room.
Their bodies were discarded at the front corner of the Classroom, piled against each other with blood forming a puddle around it.
