UNTITLED: Book One

DAY 107

I gaze into the abyss

It looks back

…It doesn’t see me

“ARGHH!” Solara roars in frustration as she sets down possibly her three-hundredth heavy crate today.

I’m so fucking tired! Fucking factory labor, for some surface goon, she thinks to herself as she diligently continues her work. This is stupid! Why would we make a deal with him when we could’ve just made him do what we wanted? At this point, I don’t even care what information he has! What does that even matter anyway if we win? We wouldn’t need it. Or HIM. She stops in her tracts and turns around to straighten up the box she set down, not pleased with its angle. Dammit Aiye. All your stupid promises. I should’ve broken the Broker immediately. She chuckles at her own words, still moving yet another heavy crate despite her internal complaining.

She wipes sweat from her forehead and surveys the facility—all the people hard at work.

The warehouse is large enough for a few hundred workers and tens of thousands of the heavy crates. The crates are all stacked on racks as high as a three story building and as wide as she is long. They’re organized in rows, forming towering aisles, that span the entire length of the warehouse. A rectangle with rows of lines striped through it lengthwise, end-to-end, only to be split through the middle by the transit lane.

The Broker is delivering instructions to everyone through a loudspeaker before he is startled by Aiye who roughly sets down a crate next to him. The noise from the impact is loud enough to hear even without genetically enhanced hearing. Broker can be seen scolding Aiye, who only laughs, while everyone else is frantically working as hard as possible.

There are at least two hundred men and women working in the warehouse right now using gravity lifts and engineer mech suits, while Aiye and Solara use just their bare hands. Well, just Solara. Aiye opted to use the gloves offered to him and she admittedly regrets denying them, which she did because, “gloves are for weaklings,” according to her. The old version of her, from several hours ago. Not this new Ihaveseenthelight-version of her whose hands are a total mess and in a bit of pain.

She glances at her blistered hands. Skin peeling. Meh, she shrugs to herself. She’ll just stand on what she said.

She looks back up and sees the Broker pat Aiye on the back as they both continue laughing about something. She pretty far across the facility but she’s straining her ears to pick up even a hint of what they’re saying. She simply can’t hear over the noise. Plus, with their backs turned, now she can’t even read their lips. It’s a strange sight for her to see the tiny man look up at Aiye, like a proud parent, as if they’ve known each other for two decades instead of just two days—Aiye just eating it up. Ugh.

She rolls her eyes and scowls at them, then grunts as she lifts another crate and begins to make her way over to them.

The Broker kept his promise and told them everything they needed to know, and then some. The memorial speech. The details about surface life. Updates on Solaris. Brief history lessons on the Colonies and the Dark State. All of it. Even his business—which he then used as an opportunity to put them to work on these crates. They were this year’s supply of those nutritionally-adequate, bland meal shipments for his city. Arriving a quarter of the way into the year—courtesy of the colonies.

They had learned that the process wasn’t fully-automated because of the lack of trust for the colonies. She and Aiye had witnessed firsthand the problems that the Broker described to them: dead worms in some crates, some crates breaking, other foods rotting despite being dry foods in vacuum-sealed packaging—things that seemed intentional.

While she could care less, it was still interesting to Aiye to be learning so much in such a short amount of time. For Solara, it was annoyingly humbling to see how wrong they had been about the surface. About some things. And although things have gotten boring after their success at the factory they stole the data from, she had no intentions of getting closer to anyone here. Just passing the time and waiting to execute their plan, and apparently, having to remind Aiye of that too.

—

“…maybe she will, you never know. Life is full of—,” The Broker is saying to Aiye until a loud screeching noise interrupts them.

The Broker’s eyes close in a pained smile, cringing at the noise. He doesn’t even have to look to know that Solara is purposely dragging a crate all the way across the warehouse floor towards them, likely to disrupt their conversation.

Solara walks up to them catching the end of the conversation.

“Maybe I’ll what?” She asks.

A now-unamused Broker narrows his eyes, almost closed, in an effort to summon all the patience he could from the universe before turning around. Aiye turns around with him. They see her standing there, barefoot, while balancing the heavy crate on her head using both hands… trying to look as if she didn’t just drag it across the entire floor.

She’s drenched in sweat, her ponytail is a mess, and her hands are a first-aid disaster. Aiye isn’t in much of a better condition himself. He’s also sweating heavily with his uniform jacket tied around his waist so he can dry off. Solara tried to do the same, but since they didn’t have their battle skins underneath, the Broker had to explain to her that not everyone had the same nonchalant attitude towards nudity as her kind did—“surface people shit”. And since she refused to wear the shirts offered to them, like Aiye did, she was stuck drowning in her own sweat.

“I shall leave you to it then,” says the Broker as he begins to turn hoping to avoid the awkwardness and annoyance of her very-teenage-like jealousy. But Solara stops him.

“Why?? That’s suspicious! You’re always suspicious. Aiye don’t you see how he’s ALWAYS up to something. You can’t trust him like you can trust me. He’s always up to something! Tell me what you were talking about.” She demands and she sets the crate down and approaches closer.

The Broker, use to her mood swings now, calmly replies, “I am suspicious, yes. You both know this. I have done nothing to hide that fact. I would turn on you both the very moment our paths contradict. I am a man of opportunity and right now we share mutual benefit on our current course. Perhaps that makes me the most trustworthy person you have right now, but I assure you young Solara, I was not up to anything this time. We said nothing bad.”

Solara scoffs in reply. And Aiye simply chuckles, knowing just how much she sucks at reading social cues if they aren’t about a battle of some kind.

The Broker adds, “I was simply wishing Aiye a happy birthday. And to you as well Solara, Happy 18th Cycle! You both share a birthday, correct?”

“Yeah, what about it?” She replies, uncaring. Kind of.

The Broker looks at Aiye and nudges him. Solara frowns at this. It’s more so a blend of disgust and condescending disappointment in Aiye.

Aiye laughs again before he speaks up, “Well, I was hoping you’d want to go out into the city again. Broker was just telling me about some cool locations we could visit. Things you might actually mess with—none of that educational shit you don’t like. I wouldn’t leave you alone here, so the concern was how I would convince you to come with me—especially after all this.”

Aiye gestures toward the warehouse and all the workers.

“Ah. I should thank you both for that,” the Broker interjects. “Because of your contributions, we are now a full year ahead of schedule! Your physical abilities alone outpaced ten groups!”

Solara raises a brow in confusion. “And? You already said this was a year’s-worth? And that you were behind schedule, so of course we had to do a year’s-worth of work?”

“Haha. Mmm. Yes. Quite true… except, we are behind schedule every year and we normally take a couple months to complete the unloading of crates. Additionally, this year I secured an extra shipment-worth of food for us, so this is enough food to last us for quite some time. ”

“WHAT? You tricked us, you mother-!”

Aiye continues laughing as the Broker steps up to Solara to grab her hands endearingly, “But my dear Solara, if it were not for your motivation we would have never even dared to dream that we could accomplish so much in only two days! Two months of work?? Three really! It was a marvelous idea to turn it into a competition; the losing party must amputate their own limb for all to witness? Brilliant! Given your character and reputation, everyone truly believed you!”

Solara, either unaware—or uncaring—she’s being patronized, blushes at the compliment of her competitive nature, “Of course they would believe me, I was serious?… still am, in fact? It was an obvious wager to make. In a fight, you wager your life so I tried to get as close as possible. No big deal.” She shrugs.

She realizes her hands are still in the Broker’s and pulls away in embarrassment, forcing a display of disgust. Aiye playfully slaps her back, “It was truly generous of you to make it limb of choice! Right, Obi!?”

He points to one of the several highly stressed, warehouse supervisors, Obi. They’re holding a data pad and look like they haven’t slept in days. Extremely determined to beat these two in the competition, or at least not come in last place. The limbs of his crew are depending on it.

“That way, the loser can choose what limb they don’t need to continue work the next day,” Solara smugly replies as she puts her arm around Aiye on his way back to his jacket.

The next day!? The supervisor sobs internally, still within earshot of their conversation. They begin imagining a life where they’re trying to be the good parent that they always are whenever they’re home… but with one arm. All five of their kids asking to be carried at the same time. This makes them cry internally a bit more before they scurry off to double their already-doubled work pace.

Solara continues, “Everybody wins. Where is the losing team by the way? They put up a good fight. I’ll give them that. But they were no match for us in the end!”

While she’s in her own head, basking in the glory of her crate stacking victory, another one of the workers, one from the losing team, stands behind them in disbelief. His eyes after overhearing her. He turns towards the Broker and gestures a cutting motion at his arm as if to ask if the stakes are real. The poor guy is down bad, emotionally. Like the supervisor, he looks as though his world is falling apart and hasn’t slept these past couple days, but the Broker wrinkles his eyebrows and quickly shakes his head while waving his hand to signify, ‘no way, of course not’.

The worker, now looking more grateful than ever, silently places his hand over his heart in an appreciative salute and beams a wide smile as he scurries back to work.

The Broker chuckles while watching the man leave. Then turns around to glance at the two kids chatting before he taking his leave. Strolling down the transit lane with his hands behind his back and a smile on his face. Despite their unstable relationship, the Broker was truly grateful for her help. It was rather humorous to watch his people work so hard and be so engaged—given the context. It had been the first time, since the tragedy, that there had been so much life in the warehouse. Full circle it seems. He concludes as he continues walking. The New Wave first took life from them, then they have helped to return some of it.

…and now it seems they’re here to take it again, he bitterly thinks to himself as he remains incredibly still due to the abnormally large and strong finger pointed at his throat, pressed against his trachea.

He can’t see his potential assassin, but it’s clear to him that it is one of the New Wave due to the raw strength they possess and their size. Their hands aren’t brutishly large like the Old Guard, but still much larger than the average person—and female it seems? Besides, only someone with New Wave strength would use something as bizarre as a finger to the throat as a death threat.

“Thema (Tay-muh). You look like shit.”

The Broker looks up to see Aiye standing there alone, about a fifty paces from them. Solara, the hunter, already out of sight.

“I would have grabbed him and run if I hadn’t realized that you two noticed me already,” she replies, her tone steady—calm.

“Lucky for you that you didn’t. That wouldn’t have been smart. You don’t look like you’re in any condition to outrun us, or fight. I mean, you couldn’t even when healthy, so you definitely can’t now.”

She spits in response. Both Aiye and the Broker see it hit the floor, noticing the crimson red color. She’s not okay, but she came here anyways. Which means that whatever she wants from the Broker is worth dying for.

Perhaps, she could be bargained with, the Broker thinks to himself. While she has not made any demands, she also has not killed him. It seems very clear she needs him alive. This can end peacefu- -wait, where is Solara? Anxiety swells up inside of him as his eyes rapidly scan as much of the warehouse as they can. His body remains in its completely still state the entire time, not daring to even flinch.

The warehouse, that was once so loud that it rendered even enhanced hearing useless, is now dead silent. Every worker is stopped in their tracks, staring at the standoff—waiting for these two forces to collide and explode. And with the tragedy still fresh in their memory, the tension rapidly grows amongst them.

Sensing this, the Broker speaks up, trying to maintain his composure, “How can I help you… Thema? Was it?”

She ignores him and addresses Aiye instead, “Where is she, rat?”

{

“HAH. Rat, she says. You still on that? Says the one who came looking for the cheese in this trap. And honestly, what does it matter where she is? You’re screwed either way, Thema. You’re injured. Bleeding… Leaking courage but the fear remains. It’s got your heart beating, lungs breathing—heavy. I could hear it. I could smell it. Your silence telling. It’s loud, yelling. Shouting out for you to run… and you should.”

}

“Don’t you dare talk that way to me! You are not close to me,” she hisses at him as her eyes dart around the warehouse, scanning for Solara.

The Broker, about to speak, restrains himself after noticing his employees now evacuating the warehouse as the lights begin to slowly shut off, aisle-by-aisle. One row at a time. The control room. If she is there then she is far away enough from this situation for now, but he won’t relax his guard.

Thema is not here to kill him, so he knows she needs him. All three of them need him, but perhaps this Thema more than the other two. So, until everyone else is safe, the only thing he needs to do for the moment is quietly observe. The time to act has yet to arrive.

With the Broker still in her grasp, Thema begins to backpedal, towards the exit, from Aiye who stands in the center of the transit lane.

Aiye slowly follows them while the lights continue shutting off, row-by-row, now in-tune with his stride. He goes in and out of the light as he replies more taunts towards Thema.

{

“Ohhh but Thema, I am close to you, aren’t I? At least, I feel like? Like, I’m in your head and I see what’s on it, and what it’s made of—its make-up. You know…? Being in your mind’s got my mind made up that you—Miss, understand this situation different. Your focus on, IF you can do this mission. Contemplating the impossible after calculating his value. Thinking this is possible. But it isn’t. Because you’re still here when you should’ve left, Thema. Instead you’re still here, standing—waiting, on the other Sun Child and you missed your best chance. So now your ears ring in calls to run like a chorus singing, Go now! It’s the Sun, child—you’ve found, Thema. I’m closer… than you think.”

}

The combination of Aiye’s movements and words are hypnotic, capturing The Broker in their synchronized flow. Then, suddenly, Broker’s heart skips a beat when he snaps out of his trance, realizing that Aiye is indeed closer. When did he get so close to them?

The Broker and Thema now stand in the hallway that leads into the warehouse. All lights are off, except one final light right above the exit way and very dim lighting in the hallway. Aiye stands underneath the final warehouse light, like a spotlight, while they stand in the pitch dark perhaps five or so paces away.

Aiye’s expression is unreadable. But he continues to taunt Thema, horrifying Broker. His words increasingly chilling and blunt while his tone of voice somehow remains just as unreadable as his facial expression.

{

“Tic-toc, Thema. When the lights go off all hope is lost. Tic, toc, Thema. Give up…before your heart does.”

}

And with that, the final light goes off.

The Broker does not hear much at first but his own breathing and some distant sounds of the stragglers still fleeing the facility. His heart rate is increasing.

A man with as much experience in this particular profession does not tend to scare easily, but having this girl threatening to crush his throat with just her one finger, and seeing Aiye in that light—who he thought was the most reasonable of their group, was a strong reminder of the traumatic tragedy and the fact that these kids are natural-born killers.

“It’s funny how she’s never around when you’re like this. Makes me think it’s not your thing, and in fact just who you are,” Thema taunts back, tensing up more.

It hurts the Broker since she’s super strong, but fortunately she seems to notice and slightly ease up. This confirms that she does not want him dead. A relief, he thinks as he stares at the exit way where he last saw Aiye before the final light went off in the warehouse. It’s pitch black now in there.

So, first Solara disappears, and now Aiye. He begins to remember how much danger he felt when he first encountered the two. They had spent only two good days together, but in that time he somehow began to see them as kids again. Now, he is reminded of what they are and is unsure in whose hands he faces the most danger. He wonders if it is possible that it would be better if this Thema took him instead. Could he really bargain with Solaris again? Would he?

At this point, staring in Aiye’s supposed direction is like staring into the abyss. It’s pitch black in the warehouse and the hallway light is far too dim to reveal anything. All it accomplishes is blind him in the dark by preventing his eye from fully adjusting to the darkness. These last two days might have been a potentially healing experience, of sorts. However, looking into this abyss now, The Broker grows more certain than ever that whoever or whatever is in there does not care for him or his employees—focused only on the goal.

A few minutes pass by, the two of them standing in the dim hallway—finger still pressed to his trachea. The passing minutes feeling like a lifetime in this deep silence.

What ever is about to happen will be ugly, he realizes. He has to stop this now because there will be no bargaining it once it starts.

He addresses Thema in low volume, “Your voice. You are the young lady who gave the speech at the memorial…are you not? I saw you that day, except they called you ‘No.1’ instead of Thema. Why would Solaris send their general for something like this?”

No reply. He only just now notices her increasing heart rate, much stronger and louder than any he has ever heard, yet she remains steady and sturdy and calm. Seemingly unfazed. But he knows better. Whatever battle she rushed over here from was starting to catch up to her. She must have taken stabilizers—or adrenaline knowing their kind. But again, why is she here? In her shape? Who is hunting whom? Did she lead Aiye here, or did he back her into a corner? Why would she even try this, if her current condition is as bad as Aiye mentioned? Unless…

No. Never mind that now. Priorities. He will not let that, or her silence stop him. He cannot be too sure if everyone is safely away from here yet. It is a large facility, with a lot of people—a lot can go wrong. He must do something.

“Fine speech that day,” he continues. “Especially the part where you started a war between us and…well, everyone else. This approach seems to be a habit of yours, no? Instigating disadvantageous fights, that is.”

Still nothing. She tenses up again, this time on purpose. Probably to shut him up. He grimaces. He knows she is not trying to kill him, but it does not mean she will not hurt him. Picking at her nerves won’t work.

“Well, we can turn this situation into your advantage by working something out. Just tell me what you need and I can see if I can help you here and now, before this situation escalates further. Then we can all go home safely, where we are needed most. Are you waiting for backup to arrive? And extraction? Aiye was right. This is your only chance to escape. While they are both gone. Time is running out.”

“…He’s here,” she finally responds.

“P- Pardon me?”

“He’s still here.” She repeats. “Standing where you last saw him. Watching us. He has not moved since.”

Broker’s gaze shoots back to the pitch black darkness at the opening to the exit way. His heartbeat rising. The whole time? Okay, that… that is frightening.

Then she lowers her voice enough for just him to hear, “Time is running out, little man. Prepare yourself, they’re coming now,” she warns.

Panicked questions race through his mind. Aiye has just been standing there watching this entire time? Solara is coming, isn’t she? And, they can see, in this darkness? How much can their eyes see, their ears hear?

Thema was not simply ignoring him. She and Aiye have been in an intense standoff, in this dark, the entire time and she dared not break focus. But now she is confirming that time is running out. With the lights all off now, Solara must be close, ready to strike. He is too late.

Something is about to happen.

Thema whispers to the Broker again, “I need information. A confirmation, first and foremost. Do you understand?”

The Broker nods his head, face calm, but his heart racing faster than ever before.

“Relax, you will live today,” Thema says in response to his rapidly increasing heart rate.

Did she not say they are coming? He thinks, baffled—if not frustrated at her timing. Solara is about to introduce a world of chaos and she chooses only now to ask questions? She should have done this earlier when he offered!

“Do you know where Sollar is?”

The Broker, in his auto-survival-mode, begins to nod before he catches himself and stops short, frozen. Too late though, Thema noticed.

“Good. Where?”

Flustered now, he replies, “I- I do not…”

“Finish that sentence and I break something on you. Something that will not heal the same… Where. Is. Sollar?”

The Broker takes a moment and collects himself as his panicked expression fades and becomes grim. He is a businessman and always knows when he has the upper hand, but this was more than that for him. Hearing that name triggered a new understanding of the situation. Making him realize that no one has much time left. He finally understands what the Warden is after.

“Ah. So, that is what this is about…”

“Stop wasting time or-”

“-Or nothing. You, Thema, will do nothing.” He straightens himself, while still in her grip, and casually places his hand on her finger. “Normally, I would believe that you would rather kill me or hurt me than to let any desired information be out in the open, but considering it is this information—and the fact that you are here…personally, this situation tells me he is nearing the point of desperation. And you yourself have long passed it. Here on a suicide mission.

What? At first, Thema is taken aback, confused, by his audacity and as to whom it is this man is referring to. Sollar is afraid? No. He means the Protector? But why? Do those two know one another?

The Broker gently removes her hand and takes a one step away from her. “I believe we can negotiate. Rather, you will negotiate.”

The distance between them is still within arm’s reach so she doesn’t let his bold display bother her too much. Even injured, she’s still fast enough to make something happen in a split second.

While speaking with the Broker, her eyes are still focused in Aiye’s direction, never breaking concentration. She replies, “What do you want?”

“Nothing.”

“Huh?” She finally looks at him, shooting a death glare in his direction, “What is this!? You think I won’t end you!? I can find him myself!”

“No, you cannot. If he could not find Sollar, you most definitely will not either. I am the only other person who knows his whereabouts. Everyone who would have known is no longer with us, courtesy of your… Protector. I am your only option and I am no good to you dead, or injured, because I certainly will not help you if you injure me. I hold grudges child.”

Thema considers this for a moment. She then glances again in Aiye’s direction. A very subtle look flashes across her face before she quickly looks back towards the Broker. But not before he notices.

Aiye must be gone now too. He knows he is right because she tilts her head to listen while she speaks to him—her poorly-veiled desperation showing. He has her right where he wants her.

“Very well, little man…”

“Broker. I am called, The Broker,” he says to her as he stares her down.

Their eyes meet for a moment, but it is clear that Thema’s patience has reached its limit. Her fist curls and uncurls, rapidly repeating that motion in a sort of compulsive manner. Like a tick.

She is still listening out for the other two. He wonders to himself, What does she hear?

Thema replies, “Fine…Broker.”

She then extends her hand to him. He shakes her large slender hand.

“Ah, a pleasure young Thema. Now, about that ‘nothing’ I spoke of earlier…”

“I will find you again, and you’ll have your terms ready by then, and answers.”

“Why not now?” He questions, confusion written across his face.

“…Our times up. Now, you should start running.”

In sort of a push-throw motion, she suddenly sends him soaring across the hallway and into the pitch black of the warehouse. His body slides across the floor for a couple seconds, and while it is doing so, he catches a glimpse of Solara bursting through the metal wall with an outstretched arm aimed towards Thema. She is roaring Thema’s name, sounding like a fierce beast. The scene plays out for a just a brief moment.

Solara’s hand covers Thema’s face, grabbing her head while they both go flying into the other wall on the opposite end. They nearly break through it on their first impact, and then Thema pushes Solara off of her and throws a quick left-right hook combination aimed at her head. Solara absorbs the contact from the first hook like it was soft a slap to the face, then the second punch misses when she ducks in to tackle Thema through the wall. They disappear out of sight.

The Broker does not need to be told what to do next. He hefts himself up and starts running like his life depends on it; trying to escape the blast radius of this bomb called, “New Wave”. Some of the lights finally turn back on.

He sprints down the transit lane towards the facility’s exit on the other end of the warehouse, with everything he has got at his age. While running, he occasionally catches glimpses of the chaos that begins to unfold all around him. Their path of destruction in-tune with his sprint.

Thema reappears as she is thrown out of yet another wall and into the warehouse. She is then tackled through an entire rack. Collapsing it. Another rack goes down as she kicks Solara off of her and into it. Then, in two strides Thema covers amazing distance to zoom in on Solara for a heavy blow to the face. Solara flies through more racks. Crates are crashing down, left and right.

As The Broker nears the exit, the exit explodes and he is blown back slightly. Not quite close enough to receive any serious damage, but enough to get knocked on his ass.

Still in fight or flight, adrenaline pumping, he immediately gets back on to his feet in time to see Aiye sliding, in a defensive stance, through the recently exploded exit. Maintaining his balance while he dodges attacks from four other New Wave soldiers. So she did come with backup, he notes.

The Broker huffs and puffs as he scans for another way out, surveying both Aiye’s and Solara’s chaotic fights. Solara and Thema crashing through everything, destroying all the… the rations! Oh, no…No. Please.

His head snaps towards Aiye’s direction with a desperation he has not had since the tragedy. It is happening again! They might not be killing his family directly, but everything they need to survive, AND everything the city needs, is being destroyed right before his eyes and they do not even care-

-IS THAT A PULSE STAFF? The Broker’s eyes bulge and his sorrows temporarily replaced with absolute terror as he watches the four members carelessly attack Aiye with these weapons of mass destruction, and Aiye casually fending off attacks from a fucking PULSE STAFF.

Such an extremely destructive tool, used only during the war, here in his warehouse! And they brought FOUR! These weapons are supposed to be rare! They can level buildings and entire cruisers if wielded properly and by the right person. It took four regular people—soldiers, highly trained, to simply power-up one. And they were injured after. Even the best-of-the-best Old Guard had some difficulty when using them solo, according to the old holos his parents showed him as a kid. But these New Wave kids just wield pulse staffs like a regular spear or bow staff. Like it was nothing.

They are dangerous…They, are so very dangerous.

The Broker collapses onto the ground. Dropping down, taking a seat, defeated. All his work gone. All the things that they fight for can always be so easily taken away by these people. Between them, the colonies, and the Dark State, it feels like there is no peace. No freedom.

He watches on in despair as the warehouse burns and collapses around him from the ongoing battle. Titans raging. Battling two- no, three natural disasters. Whichever side he would have joined, it is was a disaster either way, he laments. He resigns to his fate, exhausted and out of breath. His eyes quickly draining of color, losing hope, only to stop short of losing all as they get flooded with an anger so strong that he temporarily receives one more adrenaline boost, if only just to allow his rage to take root in his heart.

I am TIRED of us being used. I am SICK of them treating us like grass in a field. Stepping on us or mowing us down as if that is our only purpose to serve. An aesthetic or fodder, the only value they see in us. No more. Whoever wins, I will use them for our benefit. OUR goals. And when it is over, even if it is the last thing I do, I will make sure we will be free of them once and for all.

The building continues to collapse as their battle rages on while more New Wave continue to flood into the fight scene to stop Aiye and Solara. The Broker recognizes the other New Waves’ collective obsession in their struggle to bring those two down, as if they had something to prove. Madness.

He can only assume that he was their real target today, and if so it is complete madness that their obsession with those two would drive them to all forget their objective. Normally, this would be something to note and plan around. Leverage, but in all this chaos he can only hope his people got far enough away, fast enough.

All at once, his adrenaline leaving, the smoke from the fires entering his lungs, and his fatigue from sprinting through the chaos, all catch up to him. He begins to lose consciousness and everything fades to black as he slumps over and thinks one last time to himself, we will be free.

The thunderous drum strikes once…