The card game had long since ended, but the pile of poker chips still dominated the round table, and Silas stood in thought, staring at his glass player piano as it played Somewhere Beyond the Sea.
The song was interrupted by heavy and deliberate steps heading up the stairs, the steel toed shows clanging against the glass stairs. Silas paid it no mind until the steps stopped abruptly with the sound of bare skin sliding against glass. He looked over and saw an older man try desperately to pull himself up by the rail. He quickly ran to him and helped him to the top of the stairs, revealing the blood spilling from his stomach, seeping through his buttoned shirt.
"What the hell happened, Reeve?!" Silas asked, looking down the stairs. The old man paid no mind to his wound and coughed up a response.
"There are several soldiers who demanded to see you, Sir... when I asked who they were... they opened fire on everyone..." He closed his eyes and scraped his shoes against the floor in pain. Silas squeezed the medallion tightly in his hand. He knew why they were there.
He pulled his wrist up to his mouth as he held the man up and hit a button on the side of his watch with his chin.
"Yes, Mr. Midnight?" A voice responded readily.
"How fast can you get H-24 running??" Silas answered, propping the old man up on the chair and hurrying to the player piano, which was still chiming away to older tunes, checking behind him as he did so.
"No more than five minutes, Sir," the voice said.
"Get as many staff members onto the plane as you can," he said, looking around again and speaking as though he was out of breath, "Take anything you think we might need. I'll be there in ten minutes."
The voice needed no explanation and sent back a right away, Sir, before Silas turned back to the piano. Hesitating for only a split second, he smashed down the first and last two keys, causing distant, almost rhythmic slamming noises. The lights dimmed and Silas wasted no time, grabbing the injured, old man in his arms and hurrying over to the elevator. Once inside, he slammed the lowest button with his foot and waited for them to reach the basement floor.
When the doors opened they were greeted by a team of fancily dressed men and women, as calm as though nothing had happened. Wasting no time, Silas sprinted down the large warehouse full of large jets and luxury cars, instructing the men and women to do the same. He climbed aboard and leaned the man up into a seat, buckling him in. He waited for the rest of the staff to climb aboard and accepted a drink poured for him.
"So, wanna tell us where we're goin', Sir?" The pilot buzzed in. Silas paused for a second, clutching the cold glass as he gripped the medallion tighter in his hand.
"East..." he said finally, lifting the glass to his lips. "I don't know why... but I feel like that's where we need to go."