******
Still not to any conclusive decisions, Michaels' train of thought was broken by a knock at the door. The knock continued, frantic in its insistence, and he called out, "Yes, who is it?"
The muffled response came, "Oh God, you are here! It's Myers, let me in!"
Puzzled, Michaels pressed the button to disengage the lock before standing and moving to the entrance. He pulled open the door. Without hesitation, Myers rushed into the room, appearing nervous and frightened. He swept a hand backwards. "Close the door," he said quickly before doubling over and breathing hard.
Michaels released the knob with a slight shove, and the door swung not quite closed. He didn't notice, as he was already moving towards Myers. "What's going on? What's wrong?"
Myers whirled around, still out of breath. "The Institute… I-I think all of Haven is under attack!"
Michaels reacted as though slapped, and he stuttered, "What? H-how did? Who is it? What-"
Myers threw up both hands. "I don't know! I came over here to see you and Arthur; th-there are fires, and a lot of smoke. I thought I'd be safe. I had just set foot in this wing when I heard noise from the lobby." He shook his head. "When I looked back, dozens of men were spilling into the room. They shot everyone!"
Michaels felt a chill roll down his spine, almost disbelieving the tale but for the truth in the eyes of the terrified man. "Are they coming here? Are we safe?"
Myers shook his head. "I don't know; I think so. I think they're heading towards the Inquisition, but that's not even the worst part."
"What? What is it?"
"I watched them through the window for a moment, an-and I saw something. It was Arthur." Myers lowered his voice, "I think that Arthur is a trait-"
A resounding crack filled the air in the room and Citizen Myers developed a very surprised expression, gasping. Both he and Michaels turned towards the door to see Arthur Dunlevy standing, holding a smoking pistol at his hip. Myers looked down, seeing a pool of red seeping from the wound in his chest.
Shock and adrenaline took hold quickly, as Myers let out a roar and charged towards the other man. Dunlevy calmly extended his arm forward and fired again. The bullet passed through Myers face, cutting off the yell and attack. Michaels threw up his hands, feeling the splatter of his colleague's blood as Myers flopped to the ground.
Adrenaline slammed into Michaels' system, causing a white-hot blaze of panic. He trembled and held his hands up, fully expecting Dunlevy to shoot him next.
Instead, Dunlevy stepped forward. "Are you all right, Gregory? He didn't try to hurt you?" He sounded almost concerned.
Still shaking, the part of Michaels mind not flailing from the murder he just witnessed became confused. His mouth worked up and down, trying to spit out the question. Arthur spoke first, grabbing him by the shoulders. "Gregory! Are you all right?" he shouted.
Michaels sputtered. "Y-yes." He sucked in a breath. "Yes, I'm… I'm fine!" He looked at Myers facedown on the ground, seeing the bloody mash of the exit wound on the back of his head, and the bile rose in Michaels' throat. He covered his mouth and turned away, taking several deep breaths to calm himself.
Without turning, Michaels tried to snap, but his voice came out tiny and weak. "Why did you kill him?"
Arthur put his arm around Michaels' shoulder and drew him in close. "The Institute is under attack. I have reason to believe that he is responsible for granting them entrance as well as tactical information." He walked over and looked out of the doorway down the hall. "It doesn't look like they're coming this way; thank God."
Michaels didn't believe for a second that Dunlevy was telling the truth. Myers was just about to implicate the fat man for the responsibility of letting the enemy soldiers in. That, Michaels thought, and he was the one who murdered Marcus Coleman. He's clearly not above rash action.
Dunlevy turned around and waved Michaels over. "Come, let us get out of here!"
Defiance sparked in Michaels, igniting into a roaring flame. He scowled, raised his chin and said, "I'm not going anywhere with you, filthy traitor."
Dunlevy reacted with a shocked look. He blinked a few times, then his expression melted into one of… sorrow? Disappointment? Michaels wasn't quite sure.
"Oh, my dear Gregory," Dunlevy began, "how can you say that about me?"
"Myers didn't have anything to do with the attack." Michaels spat. "It was you."
A sad smile crossed Dunlevy's lips. "Yes. You are correct." From his pocket, he once again produced the pistol which caused the death of Dennis Myers. "I hoped to avoid this until later on, but I'm afraid you must hear what I have to say and make your choice." He pointed the weapon at Michaels, stepped over, and closed the door. "For your sake, I hope you choose what is right."
Uprising Page 89