Ambrosius had nothing. With their hideout discovered, he had no resources except several gold, no plans except cannon sabotage, and no friends except Nimona. That alone wouldn’t be enough to get out of The Kingdom alive. Ambrosius idly roamed the hospital records room in his wheelchair, circling the tall computer servers that filled the area. He needed to move while he thought, and this was easier than limping.

He wracked his brain, trying to think of anyone who could help them. He did know a few people he could try calling in favors from, but they were all nobles and the chances they were in on The Director’s plans were 50-50. He needed someone else. Someone who was a commoner. Someone he knew wasn’t going to turn him in…

Ambrosius let the wheelchair coast to a stop. Blitzmeyer. She fit the bill. She’d run off the last time he’d seen her, thinking he and Nimona were anarchists planning to overthrow the government. She’d already been through an ordeal, being conned into making the blaster that had killed the queen and then losing her lab and assistants to a fire. He didn’t blame her for wanting to stay out of whatever it’d sounded like he and Nimona were planning. They were in a tough spot now though, and she was the only person he knew for sure wasn’t in on The Director’s coverup. How could he convince her to help them? And for that matter, how could he find her? He didn’t have access to The Institute’s computer system. Ambrosius huffed, then stopped and looked up at the hospital computers towering around him. Wait a minute…

The records terminal was locked. It needed a password - not a badge, an actual, old-fashioned password. Ambrosius’s fingers hovered over the keyboard. This wasn’t the Knightly Storage building - he knew if he made too many wrong tries, it would lock him out. He stared at the keyboard. He needed to be smart about this. How would a smart person crack a password…

A sliver of color coming from under the keyboard caught his attention. Something was stuck to the underside… a sticky note labeled ‘Bacon and eggs!#’. … Could that be the password? He tried it.

DENIED.

Ambrosius flexed his fingers. Okay, maybe leave out the spaces? He tried that.

DENIED. TWO ATTEMPTS LEFT.

Ambrosius felt like hitting his head against the desk. If that wasn’t the password, was ‘bacon and eggs’ supposed to be a clue? He typed in ‘Breakfast’.

DENIED. ONE ATTEMPT LEFT.

Ambrosius spun the wheelchair around in frustration. Had the system been newer, he could wait for Nimona to arrive and use her pilfered badge. But it was old. Old as passwords. What did he know about passwords? He’d barely been ten when The Institute had phased out the archaic security method in favor of ID scanners. He didn’t remember much from back then… but he remembered passwords had to be long. They had to have a capital letter, a symbol, and… a number…

Ambrosius blinked. ‘Bacon and eggs!#’ was long, had a capital and two symbols, but no number. The ‘#’ was the clue. There needed to be numbers added to it. But where? The whole thing was just words…

Just then, a memory surfaced - a time when he was a kid and Ballister was trying to help him find creative ways to make passwords before the update. Bal had had the bright idea to use numbers that vaguely resembled letters… for letters. That way, he could use any string of words and get at least one number in. A faint smile broke onto Ambrosius’s face. That had to be it!

Carefully, he typed in ‘B4c0n 4nd 3gg5!’. A chime rang out.

COMPUTER UNLOCKED.

Ambrosius gave a long breath of relief and leaned back in the chair. Ballister was still helping him, even if just in his memories. That thought warmed him.

Luckily, that single password seemed to give him full access to the whole computer system. Finding Blitzmeyer’s profile and address was a cinch. He didn’t have any data devices handy, so he found a pen and wrote the address on the back of his hand. Hopefully she’d be home, and bigger hope, she’d help them out.

He looked at a clock on the wall. It had been fifteen minutes since Nimona had left. She should be back soon, provided nothing bad happened. But in the meantime, he had a database at his disposal. The random thought came to him to see what notes had been left on his medical profile since his escape. He went to the search screen and started typing his name in, last name first. A whole list of his deceased relatives populated the view with him at the top, the last living descendant with the family name. Below him were his parents’ profiles. The sight of his dad’s name next to the word ‘deceased’ triggered another memory. Nimona had told him to check the medical records if he didn’t believe her story about how his dad had died, and here he was…

Ambrosius tapped on the name, curious. He navigated several tabs of reports until he found what he was looking for; a scan of the coroner’s report. Sure enough, whole sections had been blacked out, hiding the events that had led up to his dad’s death. But below it all, it listed the cause of death as ‘blood loss’ from ‘stab wounds’. Not blunt trauma, as Ambrosius assumed a car wreck would be listed as. His dad had bled out, just as Nimona had told him.

Ambrosius sighed. He didn’t know what else he’d expected. Nimona had been right… Just then, something freezing wrapped around his neck.

“Ice hands!” Nimona’s voice yelled.

Ambrosius jumped, swatting her fingers away. Nimona laughed.

“Hooooo…. Priceless!”

Ambrosius tried to not look amused.

“Very funny. Did you get my stuff?”

Nimona dangled his wallet and the ash packet from her hands.

“Took forever to find, but yeah. Your phone was gone though. Guessing the justice department is trying to use it to find you.”

Ambrosius took the items from her. 

“It’s just as well. They’d probably track it if we had it.” 

He held the ash packet tight in his palm for a long moment before sliding it into his pocket.

Nimona crowded the desk next to him, eyes on the computer screen.

“Whatcha got here?”

Ambrosius turned back to the screen with the coroner’s report.

“Just… doing some research.”

“On your dad?”

“Yeah.”

Ambrosius reached for the ‘close window’ button.

“Hold up!” Nimona pushed in, “You never gave me the name of the virus that killed your mom. I’m going to kick myself forever if I don’t find out while we’re here.” She navigated back to the main window.

Ambrosius watched her.

“Why?”

“There was a weird bug that went around the city some hundred years ago. I want to know if it’s the same one. If I’m leaving this place forever, I may as well find out if it’s something to look out for.”

That made sense. Nimona found his mom’s profile and navigated to the coroner’s report. They both skimmed the form till they found what they were looking for. Cause of death… brain hemorrhage.

Nimona scowled.

“Well that’s annoyingly specific.”

Ambrosius looked over the rest of the form in confusion. There was no reference to any virus or other illness anywhere. Instead, it mentioned ‘surgery complications’ and ‘Facilis procedure’. Was this the right report?

He checked the name and date of birth - yeah, this was his mom.

“Hey Nim, have you ever heard of ‘Facilis Procedure’”

“Nope. Should I?”

Ambrosius stared at the screen. He pulled the keyboard back in front of him and did a web search for ‘Facilis procedure’. No hits, except for a blurb about the latin word ‘facilis’, meaning ‘easy’ or ‘willing’. That was weird…

Nimona chuckled.

“‘Easy’? Nothing about your mom was easy. She was the most stubborn senator in her generation. In a good way.”

Ambrosius shook his head and pulled the medical database back up. A search for the term there gave a list of people who had received the procedure and the surgeons associated with it. He froze when he saw his name at the top of the list - ‘most recent recipient’, it said, dated from several days ago.

Nimona looked from him to the screen and back.

“But… that was…”

With a shaking hand, Ambrosius tapped the report. Paragraphs of medical terms he’d never heard of filled the screen. He scanned the text, trying to find something that would clue him in on what this was. The document ended abruptly, concluding with ‘Procedure interrupted by gorilla. Postponed until further notice.’

Nimona spoke up.

“At least they know a gorilla when they see one. I was worried no one would recognize me.”

Ambrosius stared at the screen mutely. Things were clicking into place - things he hadn’t questioned as a teen but suddenly stood out to him now. His mom’s baldness - that hadn’t been a treatment side effect, that had been her head being shaved for surgery. The loose knit cap she’d been wearing every time he’d seen her at the hospital - it had been perfect for hiding surgical incisions. And the cause of death being brain hemorrhage - something must have gone wrong in surgery. Something had gone wrong, and it had killed his mom.

Shaking, Ambrosius went back to the main screen and looked over the list of other recipients. They were all names he recognized - politicians and other people in the public eye. All of them had had a time when they’d stood against The Institute, but then abruptly changed their views, disappeared from public life, or died of illness. It all made sense now. The Institute was surgically changing their minds, making them ‘willing’ and ‘easy’ to work with. Nobody had ever disagreed with The Institute for long, and now Ambrosius knew why.

“This is wrong.” Ambrosius whispered. “This… The Institute… they’re wrong. This shouldn’t be happening.”

“Come again?” Nimona asked.

Ambrosius turned to look at her. Had it really only been a week ago that he’d insisted The Institute was good; a giver of guidance and follower of law, and that people who disagreed were simply ignorant? Had he really been eating up so much propaganda that he’d missed the patterns? This obsession with power that lied to the populace, stoked fear of the unknown, and stopped at nothing to cut down any opposition - this wasn’t righteousness. This was a monster.

Suddenly, the sense of betrayal Ambrosius had felt disappeared, leaving in its wake a feeling of pure rage. The Institute had killed his mom, even if indirectly, because she hadn’t been compliant. It had killed Ballister, directly, because he’d challenged the ‘natural order’ of things. It would continue to kill whoever it saw as a threat, and running away wouldn’t change that. The Institute would just keep forcing people to obey until the end of time. It needed to stop.

“Nimona…” Ambrosius found his voice, “Do you remember your ideas for revenge?”

Nimona gave him a look of disbelief.

“You want to take revenge?”

“More than that.” He stared at the screen. “I want to be the villain.”