Our occupation of city hall was entering it's sixth day and the food supplies were running low. Tim was supposed to bring a sack of MREs he'd pilfered from the military base. Hardly cordon bleu cooking but it would have filled our stomachs. He'd left it at the curb-side the day we stormed in and the police took great pleasure in thanking us for the snacks. On that morning everyone started to say they could smell apple pie, some thought we had won and this treat was a peace offering. I couldn't smell it through my gas mask. They thought I was paranoid since I wore it 24/7 unless I needed to eat or drink and even then I did so quickly. People began to laugh at nothing at all, then become scared of nothing at all, then as the poison gas being pumped in became more dense the air was actually tinged with green. There had never been a settlement coming, the negations just bought them time to bring in their "solution." It was futile, I fled for the underground cellar to hide in the archives.