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“But you have me however,” Fulton said. “We see one another. As a matter of fact, when you graduate, I believe you should work with me in the C.A.M association. Make our own office, make it the best. We don’t merit our dads, we merit us. Consider it.”

He got up and gone on with his work, as I remained there, lost and confounded. It was so difficult for me to see all of this. Maybe it was another person’s life. Like my own life wasn’t genuine any longer since these things had occurred in my mind and in my life as a matter of fact.

Fulton is attempting to do something to me, I know it! But what? For what reason would he say he is doing this to me? How could he do this to me? How could my dad do that to me? It simply has neither rhyme nor reason!

I removed a full breath and strolled from Fulton and went inside my room. My room was radiant and splendid, with a PC that was by the side on a work area. I felt nothing like the brilliance in my room, nothing by any means. It was dull and bleak within me at the present time, but I needed to traverse this.

I sat on the bed, and I could feel myself falling into an unfilled space within myself as my heart continued to pulsate increasingly fast in my chest. I would have rather not moved, I was unable to move, but I felt like something must be finished to fix this wreck at the present time. But how? How is it that I could fix this?

I shut my eyes firmly as I pondered all that had simply occurred in my psyche.

***

Before long enough, the following day came, an opportunity to catch George Greyson. I attempted to not ponder Fulton, but it was hard not to on the grounds that maybe he knew a lot about me, despite the fact that he denied it without fail. Furthermore, the most terrible part about it was that I was unable to track down the words to express anything as of now.

.....

He called us into the weapons room by and by, which I feel ought to simply be designated “YMPA Children Room.” Soon enough, the entire gathering showed up, looking stimulated and cheerful after their days off, prepared for their central goal today.

Fulton sat before the screen as we as a whole remained before him sitting tight for him to say something. His mouth opened and he talked gradually as though he was wondering whether or not to let us know he going to tell us. “Are you all prepared?” he at long last sprayed out the words as though they were caught in his throat.

We as a whole nodded our heads and viewed at Fulton as though he had recently said the world’s most befuddling sentence ever.

“Alright, you folks know we will catch George Greyson, right?” he asked, as we as a whole nodded. He offered a fast go-ahead, then turned towards the screen once more and kept talking gradually as though he were battling with each word that left his lips.

“Indeed, we won’t utilize the old strategies that we’ve been utilizing previously, send you all there while I watch. Now the FMA will be there to help so you folks ought to be protected. In the event that you really want any assistance, tell me okay?” he said, as we as a whole viewed at him with an inquisitive look on our countenances as he grinned and shook his head at us.

I remained there, squirming around with my fingers as though I was apprehensive as every other person went to Fulton with favors their countenances as they pivoted to view at me with this weird search in their eyes as though they could see that I was having an awkward outlook on this as well as another things.

I noticed Vicki strolling over to me gradually, and I felt a little feeling better that she had chosen to come here and talk with me about something different other than this.

She strolled over towards me gradually and grinned as she said, “Hello Connor.”

“Hello Vicki,” I said as I offered her a grin as a trade off and afterward she gave a grin back to me. “You alright?” she inquired.

I nodded.

“Okay, everybody, to the vehicle. We should go,” he said. Everybody lifted from their seats and we as a whole advanced out of the room, as Fulton sat in the room and gazed at the screen.

“Fulton, you’re not accompanying us, are you?” I inquired.

He shook his head as he kept on gazing at the screen.

“I’ll watch you folks from here,” he answered.

We as a whole viewed at one another and shrugged our shoulders as we advanced external the weapons room.

We as a whole got into the van that we went into, and September chose to take the driver seat. I recently started to understand after this entire time, September is in a real sense like our driver or something, no big surprise Fulton would have rather not escaped the vehicle with us today.

“Okay, September, advise Gina to bring you all to this location: 862 K Road,” he said into his earpiece prior to going to us and saying, “You folks be protected alright? Assuming you want anything or need assistance with anything make sure to me.”

“Okay,” September answered.

She said the location to Gina, as the van pushed onto the street. I’m truly trusting this van doesn’t make us crash or any such thing since I would prefer not to bite the dust in that frame of mind in my fantasy life like this.

I made an effort not to ponder Fulton any longer since it simply didn’t seem like we could at any point talk again in any case. I saw the clamoring roads, thinking about how their lives were, how they helped fun, what their families resembled and all of this data that I just couldn’t inspire myself to grasp as of now.

I heard September talking into her earpiece prior to saying, “OK Gina, we are here.”

The van halted, as shock and dread went through my body right now since we were directly before an old structure that seemed as though it hadn’t been utilized for a really long time.

Furthermore, beneath was a line dance of trucks, vans, all the stuff that was positioned there. Troopers hurried through the whole convoy, piling up a great deal of speed as they got into position and prepared themselves for what was going to happen today.

As I watched out of the van window at this scene beneath, I saw George Greyson in his typical red overcoat and pants stroll towards a white van that was stopped a couple of feet behind them.

He looked without a doubt more seasoned than he did in the image we were shown by Fulton. Perhaps that would him say him was in his mid thirties now? It was difficult for me to tell however as a result of how comparable his face seemed to his genuine self and how old he truly looked right now even with no scar all over or any such thing.

“That is him,” Greg murmured in wonderment, licking his lips as he directed out of the van window toward Greyson. “He looks frightening.” I took a gander at him fairly upsettingly, and afterward at the others in the van as they generally concurred with Greg’s assertion.

As I watched Greyson stroll towards the van and stop as he put his hand on the window and glimpsed inside, I noticed something a piece unexpected about him in comparison to how he searched in the photograph we were checking out.

He had exceptionally messed skin, extremely messed skin.

Before long enough, the convoy began moving.

The absolute first vehicle went to one side, trailed by the following one turning right, trailed by the following vehicle turning right also.

The last vehicle in the line was a rescue vehicle, as it went to the right as well as the wide range of various vehicles transformed left as opposed to going on into the convergence as we were passing through.

“Follow Greyson’s vehicle,” Malachi said. September went to one side where the white van followed the convoy, wobbling a piece as it went in the city.

As the vehicles turned left, there was a vehicle that halted just prior to entering the convergence before us. I thought it was going on like every other person did but then it halted as the convoy passed right by it. We followed very intently behind it, but soon a greater amount of that dark vehicle started to heap in.

The FMA, they were here.

Now it wasn’t simply us, but the FMA following them as well.

Yet again the convoy turned right and drove along the principal street, where there were two vehicles that were holding up at a stop sign. However, they were not turning right like every other person had. They were hanging tight for their opportunity to take a left hand turn into a rear entryway between a structure and a few additional structures.

The convoy made it past them and entered the back street, as we followed them into it with our own van following behind us. The convoy was going sluggish so we could stay aware of them.

Before long enough, Greyson’s white van took a left into another back street between certain structures as we followed them into that equivalent rear entryway. On the opposite side, three dark Escalades out of nowhere followed the van. But the FMA vehicles were behind us, prepared for an opportunity to assault.

The van now left the convoy.

Was this an endeavor to deceive us? Or on the other hand was this really the way in which they arranged it out? I contemplated internally as the van proceeded with its excursion and we trailed behind it.