GAVIN

As Gavin and his loyal band--plus one newfound ally, Evelyn--navigate the Cloister's corridors together, Gavin's walkie-talkie, the one he took off of Cole, starts making a ruckus. One series after another of hard, high-pitched beeps.

RING RING RING, pick up the phone.

But Gavin doesn't want to pick it up, not yet. Let it ring for a bit. Show the people on the other line just how much he gives a shit. They've wasted enough of his time already. Why can't he waste theirs?

All those years, all that work protecting the Cloister, and then they go and throw him in a cell. Because he took charge, and did what no one else was willing to do. It's not his fault Callahan didn't have the guts to do what needed to be done. It's not his fault Callahan got stage fright when it really mattered. It's not his fault--not entirely--that Shiloh managed to turn everyone against him. It's not his fault they decided to toss in the towel and hand everything over to the machines.

It's the principle of the thing. When the future of humanity was at stake, they took a Biodroid's word over Gavin's. It didn't make sense. It wasn't logical. But even if it was, it would still be wrong. It would still be a betrayal.

And Gavin wasn't sure who he blamed more, that Ruster or Shiloh. Sweet innocent Shiloh, resourceful Shiloh, independent Shiloh. The girl who could 'get it done'.

She was up to something, all right. Even now, she was.

After all, is Gavin really supposed to believe it that after all these years of Shiloh pushing expedition after expedition out to the south to look for some nebulous facility, that suddenly a Ruster would show up claiming the facility exists? The whole thing smells. And if Callahan and the others aren't in on it, at the very least, they fell for it. That alone should be enough proof of their incompetence.

Something has to change. Somebody has to step up.

The walkie-talkie beeps again.

Renzo gives Gavin a questioning look as he walks next to him, but doesn't say anything. He knows better than to question Gavin. Proof that there's still such a thing as loyalty around here, even if it's becoming more rare by the day. Hell, even Milo's turned against him, giving in to the peer pressure of the unfaithful masses.

As he walks down the hallway, he passes camera, up in the corner of the ceiling. One of many throughout the Cloister. There won't be much of an element of surprise to Gavin's visit. Not that there was going to be, after what happened with Cole. But the fact doesn't have Gavin worried.

The radio crackles as he presses his thumb against the transmission button, answering the numerous calls. "This is Watch Captain Gavin, speaking."

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"One of those things is true," the voice on the radio says.

It's Callahan. Tall, illustrious Callahan. Deep-voiced, smooth-talking Callahan. Oh, Callahan. What shall we do? Tell us what our options are, Callahan. Lead us, oh wise one.

Callahan might be considered the head of the board, but as far as Gavin is concerned, the board is a ceremonial entity more than anything. It exists to give the people a feeling of representation and security. Meanwhile, it's The Watch that actually gets shit done. Callaghan's only ever been on the outside a couple of times. He's never had to go on expeditions, he's never had to fight Biodroids or bots, he's never had to lay his life down. He's just another guy, pompous and arrogant as he is venerated. Well, not by me, and to most, that should be abundantly clear, seeing as Gavin went so far as to put a bullet in him--not because he has anything in particular against Callahan, but because he needed to get things done and Callahan was standing in the way.

"I think you'll find that if anything, I'm selling myself short with the introduction."

"More than a Watch Captain," Callahan says. "That's a strange thing to admit. You always did seem to think you had the most important job."

"Maybe it's everyone else who's underestimated the scope of the position," Gavin says.

"Getting a bit big for your britches there, son. You must be feeling pretty self-important right now. Not even Cloister law can keep you down."

"What can I say?" Gavin says. "My chains are gone. I've been set free.

"You can't claim to stand for the Cloister while breaking its rules, Gavin."

"There are the rules, and then there are the precepts the rules are based upon. I'm starting to see that a lot of people are beginning to forget exactly what those are."

"Sounds like a matter of opinion."

"It's not just that," Gavin says.

"Is it?" Callahan says. "Because the Board is in unanimous-" He catches himself. "Well. Near unanimous agreement. Say hello to Evelyn for me."

"All well and good for the Board. What about the people?"

"The Board represents the people."

Gavin smirks to himself. "We'll see." He releases the transmit button.

A few seconds later, the radio beeps again.

Gavin squeezes the button. "Callahan."

"If you keep heading down this course you're on right now, things are going to get very ugly very quickly."

"I agree. For everyone's sakes, we should try to make the transition of power as smooth as possible."

"That so? You know, I always suspected you had a screw loose somewhere. Your father--"

"Choose your next words carefully," Gavin says, squeezing the walkie-talkie so hard the plastic creaks in protest.

"Your father Rutiger had a lot of problems. He was never able to completely...come back from his missions. I can't imagine what that must have been like for you."

One chunk of the radio's plastic pops and comes off, falling to the floor. "Don't try to psychoanalyze me, Callahan. Hard times make hard men. And I'm starting to realize just how soft you are."

"Ah, yes. It takes a hard man to shoot an old friend of your father's, doesn't it?"

"Somebody had to do it."

"I'm sure they did. Here's the thing, I don't want to hurt you, and I'd prefer if we could work something out, but you know what? I don't think I can get through to you. I don't think anyone can. I think you're lost, Gavin. In a reality of your own making."

"You've got one thing right. The world is what I make of it."

This time Gavin doesn't let go of the transmit button. He squeezes, and keeps squeezing, until the radio comes apart in his hand, falling to the ground in a dozen bits of shrapnel.