Tyrant

(𝟷𝟾) 𝚂𝚘𝚊𝚛 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝙱𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜

Two months had passed.

Two long months crammed with eating, sleeping, training, and Retrieving—with a simmering, growing line of tension between Darcio Alois and me, especially during our weekly training sessions at the Defense Practice room. Other than training, I had tried to keep our encounters around the Base to a minimum, as his very presence erupted an avalanche of emotions in me that I am not yet ready to face. Do not want to face.

To my eternal luck, I hadn't run into his sister these past weeks, and I thank the stars for that—I didn't trust my hands to stay to themselves if I saw Delmira. She still deserved a solid slap for her vile behavior—for the death of those innocent boys.

Over time, Retrieving duties had gotten somewhat less draining—Fallon and I went out every few days, white dress on, white hair down, and returned with cans and cans of sustenance in our tired arms. And on days when Fallon was busy with other things at the Base or just felt the need for a rest, I left the Base with tall, slender Eugene Radley or petite, adorable Shazzi Jaide—both of which are humane, kindhearted rebels that I immediately got along with.

Although I grew accustomed to Retriever duties in the morning, seeing the miserable citizens of The City never got any easier. And as I made the long trek to Alf's shop with my fellow Retrievers, shame jabbed into me at every dirty, wretched face I saw along the streets and alleyways—faces that were haunted by hunger and tragedy.

Weeks after my first day out, The Top had summoned me to the Confidential Chamber, a room with a thick metal door that I had never been in, but had been caught eavesdropping on all those months ago—I still remember Darcio's angry, impatient visage as he asked me what the hell I was doing and dragged me to the sitting room for a completely unnecessary lecture.

Behind that metal door, weapons of every kind imaginable were stored in every drawer, cabinet, and closet. Some were even laid out in the open, machines of death ready to be taken and used for protection.

In the center of the room, however, there's a single metal table with multiple chairs lining its perimeter—a conference table, with a metal entrance to the room to keep things secret—hence the name Confidential Chamber.

It was Raeyan's words, however, that stunned me more than the unique appearance of the room.

Arcane, my missing roommate, had been found unconscious near the eastern side of The City—a Terminator had reported this with a push of his Tracker, and two Healers immediately departed to see what they could do. A trek of at least a few hours—to get there.

How did Arcane end up so far from the Base? I had asked Raeyan, and she simply stated that she did not know.

And that had been that.

I take another bite of the canned lemon-and-herb chicken I had pulled out of the cupboard in the Food Sector, and listen to Bruno Easton, a dedicated yet talkative Communicator with dyed copper hair, tell of his experiences with tracking rebels while in the Mainframe room.

"Sometimes they get so far north or south that we have a hard time locating their exact area," he chides and takes a sip of his water, "and that's when we need to pay extra attention to whether they send an emergency flare or not."

"Exactly. It's draining being cooped up in the Mainframe room for hours at a time." Astrid Harper says, and I throw my friend—the kind girl that had been patient and showed me around the Base when I first got here—an understanding smile.

The three dining tables in the Food Sector are quite large—each one a rectangular metal fold-in with enough space for a dozen people to eat comfortably, elbow room and all.