Gregory King: A Fictional Narrative

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resident Gregory King and his entourage strolled into the presidential quarters, which to Greg’s surprise appeared untouched since he’d left, except for Stone’s bolted cages covering the windows. The lamps fizzed as they were lit. “Oh, look at all this dust,” Lass said, removing her helmet and shaking out a mane of wavy blonde hair. “They could have at least kept it clean.” Lawrence, his armor still in place, surveyed the door. “I can move the locks back to our side if someone can find me a wrench and bit set.” He rattled the bolts, nodding. “Also the windows.” Greg remembered the hidden passageways that led to the back garden. He knew Stone had sealed them, but he didn’t know how difficult that might be to reverse. For now, he had

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