continued...
Wren proceeded as quickly as he could to the ground level, searching out the closest medic or commanding officer. Unfortunately, the best he could do was Private Michael, who stood nearby with furrowed brows.
"Who was it?" Wren asked, coming to stand beside him.
Michael didn't even look over, his worried gaze focused ahead. "Someone on lunch," he said, troubling his lower lip.
Wren swallowed hard. "Was it…" he cleared his throat. "Was it Terry Williams?" He tried desperately to see over the settling dust, to find any patch of Terry's dark complexion within the remaining clouds.
"Bad day for someone, isn't it?"
Wren nearly melted in relief from Terry's voice commenting from behind him. He turned and immediately reached forward, gripping Terry's unoccupied hand. "By the Gods, I thought it was you under there."
Terry smiled, white teeth gleaming in the shadows of the structure they were gathered under. "Ain't no one kill this Williams, ya hear? I'm built a bit tougher than that."
Wren laughed, releasing his hand and looking for whoever had been injured. Even if it wasn't Terry under there, a life lost was never something to rejoice over.
Finally, a woman was dragged from beneath the beam. She wasn't moving, and there was no sign of life indicating that she'd survived the ordeal. The lack of a mask indicated that she was likely a Breathless, and Wren cursed himself for the amount of relief he found in that.
"Poor girl," Terry commented, his mouth turning down in a frown.
Wren could only nod as Private Michael and General Hues called the group for a casualty call.
"Priya Haines of Univia has been lost to this world. May her soul find rest with the Gods," Michael solemnly stated, gesturing for the general to move forward.
Clearing his throat, he said, "As is protocol, we will be evacuating this site and cleansing it. You are dismissed until your next assignments. Please take this time to properly process today's event." He gestured to a cluster of medics with light blue shirts and khaki pants. "We have psychologists on standby if you need any kind of mental aide. Thank you for your time."
Wren looked at Terry. "You good?"
Terry nodded. "Yup. Live as long as this old fart, and you see enough death to carry you through the seven depths of hell."
"Mm," Wren hummed in agreement. "Sounds about right."
"I think I'll head home real fast. Meet at the ticket station?"
"Sure. Guess I should make good use of this time as well," Wren agreed, waving Terry off as the group dispersed.
As soon as he was clear of the site, Wren picked up his pace, keeping a steady jog as he headed towards his destination. Hopefully, the man he was looking for would be home. It was kind of hit and miss, but he was in charge of drawing up plans for future endeavors, something that required a lot of paperwork, generally keeping him homebound.
Panting, the small glass building came into view. The place was only two stories and only housed eight people. The eight people within were those closest to Tousen and his efforts. Most of them worked in the same space they slept in, and they had a lot of goods delivered directly to the building when they needed them.
Needless to say, Wren didn't see Vert very often these days.
"ID 37DOME," Wren stated to the security clerk.
She nodded, typing in his information. "Wren Olmeda, correct?"
Wren nodded. "That's correct, ma'am."
"Okay," she replied, typing away and clicking on a few buttons. Returning her gaze to him, she asked, "Who we visitin' today, Mr. Olmeda?"
"Vert. Vert Robertson."
She nodded, slipping a small card through her window. "Looks like you've been approved to see Mr. Robertson. Please take your access badge."
Wren smiled, taking it from her. "Thank you."
"Of course," she beamed, clasping her dainty hands on her desk. "Is there anythin' else I can help you with, Mr. Olmeda? A new filter, maybe?"
"No, but thank you for asking."
She nodded once more. "Go on ahead, and don't forget to drop your badge before you leave."
"Yes, ma'am."
As the doors slid open, Wren quickly walked through them, slipping his badge over his neck before taking the stairs to the second floor. Room three was Vert's and Wren's fist immediately pounded on the steel surface of the door.
"Coming!"
Wren didn't stop, continuing to pound despite the footsteps closing in.
"Damn it, Wren, I said I'm coming!" Vert's annoyed shout came from within.
The door flew open, Vert's reddened face a sight to see. Wren smiled, elated that Vert knew it was him from the mischievous behavior.
"'Sup?"
Vert shook his head, beckoning for Wren to enter. After he cleared the door, Vert pressed a button, the door sealing tightly behind them and the air in the compact inner compartment hissing as toxins were removed from the contaminated air. Once the procedure was complete, Vert removed his mask and opened the second door into the unit, gesturing for Wren to do the same.
"So, what do I owe the pleasure of you trying to break down my door?"
Wren smiled, happy that at least Vert hadn't changed into someone entirely unrecognizable. "Oh, just coming to visit. We had a casualty call today. I've got an hour to kill."
Vert's eyes widened. "Do you know who it was?"
Wren shrugged, already having forgotten the woman's name. "Just some Breathless girl. Not sure what her name was."
A frown appeared on Vert's face. "Okay." The one-worded response was irate.
"What?" Wren asked, his temper rising.
Vert rubbed his eyes. "I don't know," he sighed. "I just…I feel like that was far less compassion than I was expecting from someone like you."
"Ahhh, right. Because Tousen is the only one allowed to be a cold-hearted—"
"Wren, you know what I mean," Vert snapped, interrupting him.
Wren licked his lips. Oh, how he wanted to unleash his frustrations on the man sitting in front of him. He held his tongue. That's not why he chose to visit.
"Sorry," he apologized, though he didn't necessarily mean it. "I did have a reason for stopping in today, and I promise it wasn't to argue."
Vert gave him a side glance. "Alright," he stated, gesturing to an old leather couch. "Have a sit."
Wren nodded his thanks as he settled into the worn fabric.
"Would you like anything to drink? Some coffee, maybe?"
"No, thank you. I still have work to do after this, and it's better for me to do it without the jitters," Wren replied.
"Mkay," Vert said, walking over with his own drink and settling down into a plastic chair. "So, what can I do for you?"
Wren clasped his hands in his lap. "Vert, I've been meaning to ask you…why did you agree with Max's plan? Or, better yet, why are you so quick to follow Tousen's absurd plan? Why are we here right now, against our will?"
Vert locked eyes with Wren. "We've had this discussion already, Wren. I prefer to not have it again."
"Tousen has a good idea that I feel will benefit everyone in the end. But forcing people like this is only going to lead to them revolting," Wren continued. "Come on, man, I feel like you know this too."
"Yes, I do. The loss District 32 suffered was a necessary first step," Vert said with a heavy sigh. "If you don't believe future endeavors will be better taken care of, then I can show you to my office where I'm drawing up plans."
"That doesn't matter for shit if you're still forcing people," Wren argued.
"How do we go about change, Mr. Top-Of-The-Class?" Vert asked, changing the subject. There wasn't much hostility in the question; instead, curiosity.
The question threw Wren off guard. "What do you mean?"
"See," Vert said with a level voice. "Your immediate follow up to my question was another question, asked because society decided to ensure you never even thought of ways to change it. Your brain is conditioned to not even entertain the thought of bettering the lives of your own people. Especially if it means going against those who control them."
Wren's eyes narrowed.
"So, of course, when change does start to happen, it scares you. Confuses you. And that is what makes you so wary."
"No, what makes me wary is that Tousen isn't fucking Tousen!" Wren shouted, his anger rising. "Like, Gods, put on your fucking glasses and look! Tousen, the one I went to college with, found interest in learning how things worked. He loved figuring out mechanics and laws of biology, how things evolved. He wasn't this…cruel."
Vert shook his head, taking a sip of his drink. His nose scrunched up, presumably from the heat, and he cursed under his breath. "To understand something is to take it apart. To analyze every piece and to reassemble that which was broken," Vert stated, running a finger around the rim of his mug. "That's something Tousen always told me when he was destroying appliances at home or dissecting animals in our high school open labs."
Wren remained silent, hoping Vert would say something, anything, to ease his worries.
"Tousen has always been this way," Vert continued. "Like the machines and the animals that we learned from, Tousen is taking apart something that's broken and repairing it."
"And that's it?" Wren snorted, shaking his head. "That's how you rationalize the killing of thousands?"
"I told you, we're making plans to ensure—"
"You can tell me that all fucking day long," Wren snapped, standing abruptly to his feet. "Unless there are actions backing those words, it doesn't matter because thousands of people were still murdered." He laughed to himself, securing his mask once more. "What a waste of time. Thinking you were actually in any way, shape, or form a rational person."
"What's that supposed to—"
Vert's voice was cut off as Wren shut the contamination door and waited for the other one to open. As soon as it did, he stormed off. Quickly descending the stairs, he only briefly slowed down to drop his badge at the security clerk's dropbox.
He knew coming here was probably a waste of time. But, he wanted something…no, needed something to help him accept what was happening around him. He didn't want to admit that this was the right path for the world. He didn't want to admit that the stone-cold Tousen he'd reunited with was the same one who leeched off his notes in math class. He didn't want to admit the logic behind Tousen's slaughter was likely very accurate.
But, most of all, he didn't want to admit that he was wrong. That the feelings weighing his heart down were without reason. As a person with a high moral compass—he believed, anyway—Wren didn't want to accept a better world built on the decaying remains of those who opposed it.
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