General Numenmyer and Private Atkins marched down the winding corridors in a hurried pace. Atkins kept glancing over at the General. He knew that General Numenmyer had a reputation for being the baddest muddafucka in the entire Canadian military force, underground or no, and wondered just what would go down with his involvement. Private Atkins wasn't exactly sure what the situation was like down there, or even the rebel leader was. He was on a strictly need to know basis, and he certainly didn't need to know much about this. In fact, he was surprised that the General was actually letting him accompany this far. He wondered what General Numenmyer was thinking.
General Numenmyer was rolling the situation over in his head. He had told the higher ups that this wasn't a good idea. The individual didn't need to be captured, or studied, all that was needed was a quick and swift execution. It was known that he had charisma and obvious leadership skills. This was just the sort of thing that was bound to happen, if you kept him in an area where he could be in contact with others. Of course, given his history, he wondered if the prisoners weren't divided into two fractions. The General was sure that there would be an equal, if not greater group of people against him than for.
Passing a signed marked "Restricted Area", it's paint flaking and dull, the duo turned left. There they encountered a nook, barely big enough for the two of them. The neon lights flickered over head, giving the area a ghastly pale look. General Numenmyer flipped open solitary panel, and pushed in a secret number combination. A hum was heard, and then the doors in front of the two hissed open. It was an elevator. As they entered the sound of Killing Me Softly could be heard in the form of lightly playing muzak. Private Atkins lost himself in the delicate nuances of the song. He began to hum along, closing his eyes and getting a feel for this serenity, and then suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, he remembered why he was here. He immediately stopped and stood rigid. A quick glace to his side confirmed that the General hadn't noticed this breach in protocol.
He must have far too much on his mind, thought Private Atkins, to worry about what's going on around him. I wonder what he's going to do about this whole mess. I wonder what I would do if I was put in this situation, Atkins shook his head and peered at the ground. Oh man, I'm still not even sure what's the matter down there.
General Numenmyer, however, was in complete control of his emotions. He knew what had to be done, and he knew that he had to do it. As the elevator buzzed downwards further, he straightened his tie and became ready to exit. Finally, after what seemed like an hour, but hadn't been more than a minute, the elevator came to a stop. It gushed open, and the General got out. Private Atkins began to follow, but Numenmyer's large hand halted him. "You, go back upstairs and notify the higher ups that situation XT-795 is underway."
Atkins managed to shout out a hastened, "Sir! Yes, sir!" before the elevator doors closed.
The General turned back to the giant doors marked "LAB B-32." He glanced at one of the guards and grimaced. "Take me to the problem. Take me to… Space Hitler!"
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