Cyrus sits at the summit of a large concrete tower, peaked with a bench that overlooks the concrete jungle he had a hand in creating. He’s faceless now, it's been a few days but it's only now he actually feels faceless. 

When I was young, in school, we learned about a woman. Jane, Jane Goodall I think her name was. It was this strange teacher we had, we had him for a week and then poof, gone. But he taught us about this Jane woman. She lived among the chimps, ages ago, long before the regime. She spent fifteen years in the jungle, studying chimps. She had to live like them so they would accept her. A few years into it she practically was a chimp.  We know about humans not because we study them but because we live amongst them, it truly is the best way to learn about a species and their way of life. We know a lot about the faceless, but since we never live as one of them we don’t know everything. If we were to eradicate all chimps we would’ve probably went to Goodall for advice on how to do that. No human has ever lived among the faceless before, lived as one of them. I for one have to choose between living as a faceless or dying as a disfigured faced. The current leader of the regime, Fuhrer johnstone is a bit of a quack but he believes the key to prosperity is using the faceless for their hands. Even a faceless can figure out the mines, the fields and the buildings. Perhaps in my time as a faceless I can find undeniable proof that johnstone is a complete quack who is keeping the faceless alive for no more than shits and giggles. I’ll be a hero, yeah, fuck I might even be fit to lead the regime after I out that miserable old fuckhead. Cyrus Boar, the man who lived among the faceless, it’s got a ring to it doesn’t it.

Cyrus approaches the front door of the unification group's house that he had marched out of a few hours ago, returning with a brand new mindset. After a performatively timid knock Benjamin opens the door and welcomes Cyrus back in. The pretentious guy from earlier is sitting in the corner holding his jaw. “Guys I’m terribly sorry for all the horrible things I said earlier, I had just woken up and I guess my mind was elsewhere”, Cyrus says with an apologetic look. “It’s alright bro, don’t worry about it” Benjamin says sincerely. Benjamin hugs Cyrus while Cyrus focuses all his energy on not throwing up. 

The noise of a baby crying travels down the stairs. “Someone check on Michael” Benjamin says, “Michelle's gone feeding dogs”. “I’ll go,” Cyrus says, leaving before anyone objects.

There it was, the little defenceless faceless baby, crying. It was just a single, fragile little baby, alone in a room with a man whose kill count reached triple digits long before this baby was born. And every last one of them looked like this, not when he killed them obviously but before that. All innocent, faceless babies who would grow up to become faceless monsters. Killing this baby where he cries, sitting in his own shit would save him the hassle of having to be a faceless. Cyrus grabs the baby gently, one arm supporting his neck, then rocks him slowly. The baby falls asleep in his arms, and he lays him back in his cot. 

Once he arrives back in the living room he announces to everybody, “I’m going to bed”. After a few minutes of goodbyes Cyrus breathes a sigh of relief as he flops onto his new bed. “I touched two faceless today, and now I live with eighteen of them. “