Sheldon could hear the President’s maniacal laughter echoing throughout the halls of the bunker as he hurriedly limped towards his chambers. The interior hallways of the bunker had a very unique design; the walls had been painted black on the bottom and white on the top with a glaringly bright red stripe right down the middle. Endless numbers of large wooden doors lined the walls. In all the years that Sheldon had lived there, not even he knew what was behind all of them. After rounding several corners in the halls and passing dozens of more doors, he finally came to a stop in front of his door. The only way he could tell it apart from the rest of the doors was because it had a small box attached to the wall outside for the President, or anyone else, to deliver messages to him while he was away. To Sheldon’s relief, there was nothing in it today. 

      He seized the wooden door’s handle and swung it open, entering into a large stone-walled room that looked almost identical to the interrogation room. In the far corner of the room, he had a pillow and a worn-down sleeping bag; close by stood a small wooden table with a mirror and a washbowl. At the corner of the wall closest to the door, all of his gear was lying in a heap; guns, a vest, a cape, his electricity-sword, etc. Sheldon pulled the door shut and let out a huge relieved sigh. His body ached and he was exhausted but he was glad to be back in his chambers and away from everything else. 

      Limping forward, Sheldon made his way over to the table with the washbowl and mirror. Glancing at himself in the mirror, he could see that his face was covered in sticky red blood and brownish bruises. He leaned forward and scooped up handfuls of the cool clear water from the washbowl, splashing it across his face. Finally, he stopped, to take a deep breath and look at himself in the mirror again. His face was no longer stained in blood, but he didn’t care - he was looking deeper than that. He was ashamed of himself and who he had become, who the President was making him become. The sound of his dog tags jingling together could be heard again. He took a hold of them and slipped them off, taking one last look at them before chucking them aside. He knew deep down that he no longer had the right to wear them.

      He grabbed onto the top edges of his blood and sweat-drenched tank top, pulling it off and tossing it to the floor nearby. Hanging off the edge of the brown table, there was a clean one. He picked it up and slipped it on, taking a step back to look at himself in the mirror again. 

      Suddenly, the door swung open and a soft, feminine voice laughed, “I hope he didn’t rough you up too bad.” Sheldon whipped around to see President Knowles’ wife, Elissa, standing in the doorway to his chambers. A provocative grin covered her face as she pulled the door shut, sneering at Sheldon and slowly walking towards him. Elissa always wore a large red Victorian dress lined with black lace. No one ever knew why or even how she had acquired it, but she clearly loved it because she was never seen wearing anything else. Every single one of her fingers was adorned with a different ring; her ears were pierced and decorated with round flower-shaped earrings and her hair was tightly pulled back in an extravagantly braided hairstyle. “You know, it would be such a shame to see the mighty Colonel Barnes brought down by such a minuscule beating,” she mused, producing a black fan from the folds of her dress and waving it in front of her face, antagonistically. 

      Sheldon snarled and took a step towards her. She didn’t budge. “Your husband’s walking on thin ice, Elissa. He better watch his back!”

      She laughed. “That sounds really cute.” Retracting her fan, she slapped it into her hand and stared at him with an overstated smile. “Did you just threaten to kill him?”

      “Someone’s going to,” Sheldon growled. “He’s made too many enemies. One day, you’re going to find your husband dead, on the floor of his office, and only you will mourn him!” Sheldon resentfully pointed a finger at her and whispered, “You know it’s true.” The smile on Elissa’s face started to fade. Her soul-piercing gray eyes stared at him for a long moment before she lashed out, slapping him across the face with one of her ring-covered hands! Sheldon roared in anger and seized her hand before she had time to retreat! 

      “Any man who harms my husband will die by my hand!” snapped Elissa, ripping free of Sheldon’s monster grip.

      Now Sheldon had a smile on his face; it made him happy to see her upset like this. “It’s all too easy to watch your own back, Elissa. But good luck watching your husband’s too!”

      She lifted her fan and began waving it in his face, threateningly. “You know what?” her voice wavered. “You better watch yours, because not too many people around here like you either!”

      “We live in a ruined world, Elissa. It’s every man for himself. I’m not worried about being liked. Are you?” She gritted her teeth but didn’t answer. He took another menacing step in her direction. “It must be nice. Being married to the President. Getting to eat all that nice food…and wearing those ridiculous dresses…” he laughed, pointing to her brilliant red dress; she smacked his hand away. “...while the rest of us ‘lowlifes’ live in squalor!!”

      “My husband does what he can for you!” retorted Elissa. She was grasping at straws.

      “He does nothing but give orders all day long. He has no sentiment, no compassion. He kills who he wants when he wants. He is corrupt!”

      The devious smile returned to Elissa’s face and she took a step towards Sheldon, glaring up at him and snarling, “He’s your President. Obey him!” And, with that, she turned and headed back towards the door. Seeing Sheldon’s dirty gray tank top on the floor, she kicked it and sent it flying back in his direction before hurrying out the door and slamming it shut behind her!

      Rage bubbled up inside Sheldon as he watched Elissa leave. Her resentful words echoed inside his head ‘Obey him!’ He turned back to the mirror one last time, staring at his reflection and balling his hands up into fists. In one swift motion, he swung out and shattered the mirror to bits! When he withdrew his fist from the fractured mirror, it was stained with blood; he looked down to see a large piece of mirror glass lodged deeply between his knuckles. Wincing, he grabbed hold of the glass shard and tore it out of his fist! Plunging his hand into the wooden washbowl, he put pressure on the bloody wound until the bleeding had almost stopped. Without even pausing to bandage himself up, he hurried over to the corner of the room where all his gear lay in disarray. 

      Sheldon snatched up his holster with the laser-pistol inside it and strapped it to his side before throwing on his signature green army jacket. He paused for a moment to survey what else was available to him - he knew that he was going to need much more than just the basics to defeat these three fugitives. Grabbing his black laser-proof vest, he snapped a large knife to the front of it before putting it on. He then picked up a long black cape and slung it over his shoulders, fastening it around his neck and, for the final touch, he picked up a dark-colored helmet and strapped it onto his head. Picking up his signature electricity-sword, he sheathed it beneath his belt. Something was missing…he was going to need something to shoot at the fugitives from long range. His eyes roved the collection of gear before finally resting on a small modified sniper rifle. Lifting it up and testing its sights, he nodded…he was ready. 

      Fully decked out in fighting gear, Sheldon headed for the door. Pausing for a moment, he took one last look back at the bloodstained and broken mirror before leaving the room.

      As Sheldon marched down the halls of the bunker with his gun over his shoulder, he stared at the floor - only one thing was on his mind: Killing the fugitives and earning the President's trust! Just as he rounded the last corner, a raspy voice filled the air, “Well, well, well! If it isn’t Colonel Sheldon Barnes!” Sheldon looked up with a start to see a tall muscular fellow standing a few feet away with a sloppy grin on his face. The man’s eyes were tainted with dark circles from many nights of no sleep and his head was totally shaved save for a small mohawk that had been carefully slicked back . This man’s name was Ivan Camonte. Ivan and Sheldon had been rivals for the longest time. Both had yearned to earn the President’s trust and be his right-hand man, but ultimately Sheldon had proven himself more loyal than Ivan. 

      Ivan took a threatening step towards Sheldon, chuckling, “Oh, wait, I’m sorry… Banes.” Roughly placing a hand on Sheldon’s shoulder, Ivan grinned at him with undeniable intimidation. “I heard you took quite the beating…which is something that I, personally, never had the pleasure of experiencing!”

      Sheldon brushed Ivan’s hand aside, struggling to keep his composure. “Just get out of my way, Ivan!”

      “You get out of my way!!” roared Ivan, slamming Sheldon against the wall and pinning him with incredible force. 

      Sheldon could tell that Ivan was talking about more than just the here-and-now - Ivan was clearly still upset that he was standing in the way of him being the President’s personal assistant. More than anything, Sheldon just wanted to tell Ivan: The position is yours! Take it! But he knew that Ivan didn’t have the same motives that he did. Giving up what he had earned was simply not an option. Just then, one of the soldiers patrolling the halls stepped into view, clutching a laser-gun. “Is there a problem here, Colonel?” she asked, eyeing Ivan with suspicion. 

      Sheldon shook his head. “No, there’s no problem.” Shrugging, the soldier marched away in the opposite direction. 

      Once the soldier’s footsteps had died down in the distance, Ivan released his grip on Sheldon, gesturing in a threatening manner, “Go ahead. Hit me! Make my day!”

      Sheldon stepped towards Ivan, snarling, “You wouldn’t dare touch me. I’m a Colonel!”

      “Ranks mean nothing anymore, Colonel,” Ivan snapped. “Try me!” Sheldon took one long look at Ivan. As much as Sheldon would’ve loved to kill him right then and there, he knew that had a job to do. Turning away, he marched down the halls and headed for the exit. Ivan’s voice rang out, screaming after him, “THAT’S WHAT I THOUGHT! YOU COWARD!!!”

      Sheldon entered a large room with stone walls. In the middle of the room was a long wooden table covered in machinery of all shapes and sizes. Sitting in a rickety metal chair at the table, was a small boy named Jimmy (who looked to be about fifteen years old). He wore a pair of black headphones and blankly stared at the machinery in front of him, surveying the reels of dull security footage. Sheldon walked over to where Jimmy sat, staring down at him with utter distaste. Jimmy lazily tilted his head back, shooting Sheldon an unimpressed glare as well. Shaking his head, Sheldon began to ascend the ladder that hung from the wall nearby as Jimmy slowly reached forward, hitting the red button that opened the bunker hatch.

      The metallic hatch swung open and Sheldon stepped out of the bunker into the dreary morning air. Looking around, he could see that another radiation storm was brewing in the distance. Avoiding big open spaces would be his prerogative. Creeaaak! The hatch slammed shut. Sheldon sighed. Time to kill some fugitives.

      With his gun in hand, Sheldon marched forward and disappeared into the trees, nearby.