Mr. Q hovered around the corner, back to the wall, his heart racing. The footsteps that had been ghosting his own faded as they moved down one of the many corridors and once again all he could hear was the pounding of blood in his ears.

He clumsily slid himself down the wall and carefully applied pressure to the wound in his side he’d acquired during the disposal of Mr. H. This was his own fault and he knew it. He’d gotten overconfident and lost his awareness of his surroundings and in this game, ignorance means death. He was about to stand himself back up when he heard footsteps approaching at a fast pace. In the pit of his stomach he knew those footsteps were heading straight for where he was hiding. God –he was hiding. He was disgusted with himself.

The door was pushed open to reveal silhouette identical to his own, so identical he could’ve believed he was a comrade. The door opened further and the new man stepped into the room, and Mr. Q’s hopes of survival were quickly dashed. The man was wearing the same classic tailored black suit as Mr. Q, as everyone did, but with one crucial difference.
The man who entered the room was wearing a red tie, meaning he was an Upper Thirteen member (all men labelled A to M were) and an enemy of his allegiance, The Minors (all men labelled N to Z).

Almost quicker than Mr. Q’s eyes could follow, the new man leaped to the placed where he was still crouched against the wall. The man’s intense look of disgust was made only harsher by the poor lighting. “Minors” he snickered and struck Mr. Q with his blade.

End Game: MR. Q