The clinking spoons were beginning to become too much for me. Knocking against the bowls over and over again. The clicking of the board as Ingrid went through the presentation about what had happened a night ago. I shoved my bowl forward and ran to the bathrooms. Fumbling for the knob, scalding hot water sprayed all over me. A frustrated grunt rose out from the back of my throat as I stumbled back and fell to the ground. The restroom was quiet. White tiles covered the floor with beige walls standing tall. A steady drip was coming from the faucet, ringing slightly as the drops fell from the metal tube. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the stall door.

Footsteps from outside came treading towards me. With the creak of the door, Ingrid stepped into the restroom and sat down next to me. We sat in the beautiful hum of the restroom for far too long to be reasonable. Ingrid brought herself up then extended a welcoming, tin-colored hand towards me. I grasped her hand tightly and let her pull me up, we walked back into the dining hall. All the bowls and spoons had been collected, agents and soldiers sat conversing quietly. Theories of our next act and what had happened to Ingrid floated into the air. I was led to a chair by the corner, next to Hunter; he gave me a sad smile. I returned the smile and sat down next to him, letting him rest his head against me as we watched Ingrid start the presentation back up again. All of the noise went static, colors on the walls barely registered to me. The world became a grey swirl of static and shapes until I heard the numbers.

"We lost 5,183 civilians and 1,783 tactics workers." Everything went completely silent. No breathing, no moving, no clicking, no creaking. Completely silent fell the room as the horror rolled over all of us. "A little over half of our city has been destroyed to the point where all survivors in those areas have nothing to go back to at all. The fallen tactics workers make up most of our on-field teams, so if we are to attack the Electi we need to give a new protocol to everyone here." I felt Hunter tense up next to me and the slash marks on my back stung at the thought. Neither of us wanted to go through protocol again. The whispering that erupted in the hall felt like shouts. Ingrid turned off the slideshow and walked over to Hunter and me. "Red, Blue, I need the both of you to meet me in the training room. We must discuss strategy. Enough have died that you two are the leads of the Agents Department now," A loud crash came from the other side of the hall.

"What were their names?" A raw shout came from one of the soldiers tears and words spilling from him rapidly. "Most of our capital is dead, half of the forces enlisted here are dead, and after everything that they have done for you, all they get is a number?" The man's voice cracked on the word "number". More people started to stand with him, shouting out the roster numbers of tactics workers that had died in the fight. General Smith ran over to Ingrid from the other side of the projection wall, stunner gun out and pointed towards whoever was closest. "You sit all high and mighty while the rest of us are treated like vermin. How many people have to die before you and your stupid family admit their own mistakes?" The mob roared in agreement; tables and chairs were thrown to the side, bystanders were trampled over if they couldn't the out of the way in time. Ingrid grabbed my arm and pulled me up.

"You need to say something. You were the one who brought me back, you need to explain what happened. Soothe them before this all goes to shit!" I ripped my arm away from her and ran to the front of the mob. The shouting man stopped right in front of me.

"Move."

"This isn't how the tactics forces would want us to deal with the situation,"

"You don't know shit about my crew, they would have loved an uprising!"

"I do know shit about your crew, you were Agent Yellow's older brother. I know for a fucking fact that she would have lost it if she knew that you started this. You're right, we need to honor the fallen, but what kind of fucked up idea of honoring have you concocted in that thick skull of yours if you think that making the death count higher is the solution?"

"The kind of fucked up idea that needs revenge for our fallen!"

"The basis of this fucking country, that you swore to protect and fight for, is peace for those who have nowhere else left to go. We're supposed to provide for the runaways, protect the weak, and better the strong. You've lost those morales that people like Yellow died fighting to protect. Would she really fucking want this? Yellow wanted fucking revenge?" Tears started to fall from his eyes. Tears filled with hot shame and guilt falling down faster and faster than he could stop them.