GAVIN
Renzo is one of Gavin's oldest friends. When Gavin's father was head of the watch, Renzo's father was his number two.
Now Renzo is one of the few remaining members of the Watch, and the one person Gavin knows he can trust the most.
"This is really it, isn't it?" He says, as Gavin opens the lock to his cell.
"What does it look like?" Gavin says.
Renzo eyes the cell door as it swings open, running a palm over the scratchy stubble on the top of his normally-bald head in that very 'Renzo' sort of way.
And yet, in a way, this is not the Renzo that Gavin is normally accustomed to. The loyal, trusty comrade who will rush right into the flames if you tell him to, trusting there's a plan for them to get out alive on the other side. Sure, there are semblances of the Watch member that used to be, but things are different now. Of course they are. He was one of the men who rushed into the fire for Gavin, only to find out most everyone had been burned to death.
He's still nursing a bullet injury near his shoulder. One of his shots had ricocheted off the Ruster's bulletproof hand, back in Mechanical. Luckily when it bounced back and hit him, it went through clean. Some muscle damage, but nothing so severe he couldn't move or function. He still appeared to be in plenty of pain, but Gavin doubts he'll ever hear him complain. He's just that kind of guy. He'll still be of use to Gavin. He's no cripple. Just a little banged up, for now.
That look though, in his eyes. That's the real problem. This may be the first time Gavin's ever seen him look shaken. Even if the change is subtle, in a way. In fact, Gavin can't help but wonder if he'd be able to see it if he didn't know him so well.
Renzo steps forward and through the open door, rolling his good arm for a stretch and wincing a little. He's wearing jeans and a grey tank top. His biceps and triceps bulge as he flexes, testing out the feeling of freedom.
He reaches out, clasping Gavin's hand. "Just like that?"
"With some stipulations," Gavin says.
"Yeah, yeah," Renzo says, gesturing to Evelyn as she comes up alongside Gavin. "I overheard. Just saying. It's strange."
"We all overheard," Harper says, from the next cell over. Her fingers slip into view, clamping down on the bars. "Let's do this, already."
Yeah, that's typical of her. She was one of the ones who followed Gavin outside to confront Daimon, before getting sick after breathing poisoned air. She was still recovering in Medical when Daimon broke in and everything went down. After Gavin was charged with treason, she refused to renounce her loyalty to Gavin and the Watch. An act that landed her here in a cell with the rest of them.
She sided with him, and against everyone else, disregarding the consequences. Gavin will remember that.
She takes a step back as Gavin unlocks the door and pulls it open.
"Captain," she says, a little out of breath.
She's wearing a tank top and cargo pants. There's a surprising amount of muscle visible on her shoulders and arms. Part of why it's surprising is that it almost doesn't suit. There's nothing butch about this chick, from her face, to her voice, to her frame. She's short and slim, compared to others in the Watch, but she's hardy, too. Her brown hair is pulled back out of her face and into a tail with a band. Her skin is slick with a sparkly sheen of sweat--she's been consistently exercising in her cell from the beginning, her occasional grunts echoing in the cellblock, as well as the creak and rustle of her clothing, and the slap of her palms on the concrete as she performed clap push-ups. She works hard to maintain her strength and athletic ability, and a jail cell did little to upset that habit.
Gavin clasps her by the hand, nodding. She nods in return. She has a tight grip for having comparatively small hands.
He moves on to the next cell. The last cell containing a Watch member.
Milo, like Harper, was stuck sick in Medical during the attack. Not all that surprising, considering his size and general toughness compared with the rest of the group. But he's a good kid. He always does the right thing.
It's only when Gavin looks up, after turning the key in the lock, that he realizes Milo is still crouched in the corner. His gaze is dark and far off, eyes scanning the grey wall of his cell, as if there's some secret there that might help him.
"Hey," Gavin says. He whistles, sharp and loud. "Earth to Milo."
His eyes shoot over in Gavin's direction, but he doesn't move. Honestly, he looks downcast. Despondent.
"Milo, I'm gonna need you with me."
Milo opens his mouth. Closes it. Goes back to staring at the wall.
"Milo," Gavin says, some disapproval sneaking into his tone.
This isn't what Gavin wants. This is supposed to be a triumphant moment. Something to celebrate, despite the circumstances. But this is far from that. If anything, it's an ill omen, if there is such a thing.
"I'm sorry," Milo says finally, refusing to look Gavin in the eye. "I can't. I just can't."
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
"What do you mean, you 'can't'?" Renzo says, cutting in. "That's pussy shit. I thought you were tougher than that. There's no 'can't'."
"Fine," Milo says, glaring at Renzo, his features suddenly turning sharp enough to cut. "I won't. Do you like that better?"
Don't ask him, Gavin thinks, furiously. Nobody ask him.
"Why the hell not?" Renzo says, clearly getting worked up, himself.
"Because," Milo says, looking at Renzo, pointedly avoiding Gavin's gaze. "That man is going to get every last one of us killed."
Renzo starts forward.
Gavin holds up a hand, stopping Renzo in his tracks with a mere gesture.
He steps forward, into the cell. Meanwhile, Milo goes back to staring at the wall, locking back down into his own mental space. Or trying to.
Gavin comes to a stop right in front of him. He crouches so they are nearly face-to-face. There's sudden painful stitch in his abdomen as he drops down, but he ignores it, careful to not let it show. He regards Milo, pointedly scrutinizing him from up close, while Milo continues to stare at the far wall.
"You're a good kid, Milo. I've always known you were. This thing you're feeling right now, we call it 'jitters' in the field. Learn to master it, and you're on your way to being placed in the Watch's Expedition Force."
"The Watch?" Milo says, finally meeting Gavin's eyes. "What Watch?"
That...that actually sticks in Gavin's craw, a bit. But he's gotta keep his cool. He needs every last man he can get. And besides, Milo should be on his side. The Milo that Gavin knows will jump at any opportunity to help the Watch.
"Like I said, I've always liked you," Gavin says, getting to his feet, peering down at Milo. "And I know things have been hard these past few days. I don't hold this against you, what you're feeling right now. But I need you to pull yourself together. Do that, and I'll forget what just happened. And we can get you out of this cramped cell."
For a tick or two, the angles of Milo's face soften. When he looks up at Gavin again, he looks so open and vulnerable. All the barriers have come down.
"You didn't listen," Milo says. "They warned you. And you didn't listen."
The moment hangs. Gavin feels himself losing control. The desire to lash out, to hit Milo, is like a muscle spasm in his arms and fists.
He breathes. One breath. Two. Feeling himself out in his mind. Taking stock. Retaining dignity. Self-mastery.
To at least some extent.
"Fine," Gavin says, stepping backward and grabbing the bars on the cell door, pulling it shut until it clicks. "For now, it looks like this is where you belong."
He turns to go. In his peripheral, Harper hocks a loogie and spits a loogie through the bars. It lands with a splat on the concrete in Milo's cell.
"What about the Ruster?" Renzo says, jerking a thumb toward the far end of the cellblock.
"We'll leave him for now," Gavin says. "I have plans for him later. Big plans."
For some reason, Gavin's response draws Evelyn's attention. For a brief second, a look of concern flashes across her features. Or maybe it's just Gavin's imagination, seeing things manifest in that wrinkly old face.
Gavin uses a key to open the door to the cellblock, and steps through, into one of the Cloister's many wide and strangely lit hallways. It doesn't help, vision-wise, that one of the bar lights overhead is starting to flicker, giving the area an eerie, strobelight effect.
Still, Gavin has no trouble spotting Cole, sitting on a metal folding chair and eating a sandwich just next to the door. And Cole has no trouble seeing him.
Cole springs to his feet, dropping his sandwich. The chair knocks over, clattering to the floor next to his lunchbox. He reaches for a walkie-talkie in a holster on his belt. By the time he manages to grab it, Gavin has him by the arm and shoulder, pinching a pressure point at the shoulder and neck.
Cole winces. "Jesus, Gavin!"
"Language," Gavin says.
Cole struggles, but Gavin grips tighter, immobilizing him.
"What's the frequency set to," Gavin hisses. "Who were you going to call?"
Cole cries out, completely focused on the pain.
Gavin adjusts Cole's arm, raising the radio up toward the jailor's face.
"Go on," Gavin says. "You had a message didn't you? What are you waiting for?"
He moves Cole's thumb, pressing it down on the call button. The radio crackles.
"Gavin's free!" Cole yells. "Someone's helped him escape-"
Gavin shoves him, yanking the radio out of his grip. He sprawls, hitting the wall shoulder-first and falling slumped onto his knees. He looks up, wincing and squinting as Gavin tosses the keyring in the air lackadaisically. Gavin catches it, puts it in his pocket. He winks at Cole.
"You- you can't do this!" Cole says desperately. "The Cloister's barely unified as it is. You'll undo everything!"
The reaction, coming from Cole, is as predictable as it is pathetic. But for some reason Gavin can feel it getting to him. The heat rising in his neck. The tight feeling in his gut. Though that could still just be the recovering wound in his abdomen.
"We'll see," Gavin says.
Footsteps in the hall behind him. The cellblock door shutting behind the procession.
"We're already on the precipice of an upheaval, Cole," Evelyn says, as she and the others join Gavin in the hall. "The only question is what kind it should be. I've made my choice."
"Mrs. Keller!?" Cole says, staring in disbelief. "You can't have."
"I certainly did. Sometimes talk isn't enough to get things done. Action must be taken. When the Cloister is saved, and balance has been restored, I hope you'll find it in your heart to...forgive me." There's a snarky, disdainful slant there at the end, on the word 'forgive'.
"You're not going to save anyone," Cole says, shaking his head, using the wall as a support as he pulls himself to his feet. "That Ruster Silas is going to have to save us." He lifts a finger, pointing at Evelyn. "From you."
Gavin doesn't even have to give the order. Renzo is already on Cole. First a punch to the gut. Repeated strikes to the face, alternating fists, as Cole struggles to block the attacks with raised hands. He falls to the ground, face bruised and bleeding, his breath strained, like he's breathing through a wet straw, a pool of blood slowly spreading on the cement floor.
"Take his keys," Gavin says. "And anything else on him."
The keyring is attached to Cole's belt. The only other thing he has in his possession is a crinkled, old-world photo, folded twice. As Renzo opens it, there's two white creases, making a cross down the middle of the photo. Cole can't be older than ten or twelve in the image. His parents are posing behind him in the picture, standing in the middle of a lush park in what must be early summer.
Renzo stands, flicking the photo so it lands in the steadily expanding ring of blood. Cole can only watch, desperately, as blood soaks into the old material of the picture, marring it as surely as a spreading flame, blotting out his and his mother's face.
"Let's go," Gavin says.
They make their way down the corridor, the echo of Cole's grunts and moans diminishing every few steps. Up ahead, there's a small camera mounted on the ceiling, just in front of the door.
Gavin smiles up at the camera, and waves.
Showtime.