“They’re here.”

Therese’s voice manages to rouse Sira from their brief, half-slumber. Their eyes open and they weakly raise their head to see the blurred image of Rani going over to one of the windows and glancing out at the city streets. That’s when their ears pick up a distant rumbling sound from somewhere outside.

They pinch their eyes shut again for a moment and rub at them with balled fists. Sira recalls the captain mentioning transportation, so their first guess is some kind of engine. The prospect of not having to walk anymore seems too good to be true.

“I see them.” Rani turns back to everyone. “Let’s go out front.”

There’s the shuffle of movement about the room. The bar slides over the wood of the door as it’s moved out of place, locks click as they’re all undone, and the knob turns with another click as someone pulls the door open. Rani leaves first, with Therese getting up and following suit immediately after. Sira blinks several times to get the rest of the blur out of their eyes, but it only helps a little.

The palms of their hands press against the cold floor, and they fail to restrain a soft grunt as they attempt to get themselves back on their feet. When a pair of boots steps in front of them, Sira pauses and looks up to see Lionel, one hand stretched out towards them and what they assume is a smile hiding beneath his mask.

“Need a hand?”

"I'm okay." Sira moves their legs beneath them and braces their hands against the wall, allowing them to slowly rise. Their voice remains embarrassingly raspy. They think they're getting close now to being in a place where they can find something - anything - to drink, and that motivates them enough to kick it into gear. Without someone helping them off the floor. “Um, thank you, though.”

Lionel dejectedly drops his hand. “Ah...you’re welcome.”

He turns on his heel to go join the others as they exit the room. When Sira fully stands up and hobbles to the door as well, they see Mikael standing there as he holds the door open for everyone to pass through, as he did earlier. However, he now seems to be intentionally not looking at them, versus how he couldn’t seem to stop staring daggers at them before.

They have no idea what that means, but they decide to not overthink it, and pass by him without a word or even so much as another glance in his direction.

It's very well possible that with whatever is going to happen, Sira may not see any of these people again, and they only have to deal with the constricting atmosphere that Mikael gives off for a little bit longer. He closes the door behind them, not saying anything either, and takes up his earlier position from that day in the back. Rani, Therese, and Lionel hastily descend the staircase, but Sira and Mikael both lag behind. If he's irritated by Sira being unable to keep up, he doesn't say anything.

The distant rumble grows louder as the group reaches the ground floor and leaves the building through the same doors in which they entered. As they filter out and onto the sidewalk, Sira finally sees its source - a large, dark shape in the distance, speeding down the street in their direction. Rani moves ahead of everyone while the others stay behind, closer to the building's entrance.

The object cuts through the mist as it gets closer, and Sira makes out what it is: a military truck, or what could’ve once been a military truck. Black paint coats all of its surfaces other than the small, reinforced windows, side-view mirrors, and an intimidatingly sized firearm mounted atop its roof. Its bulky armor and sharp angles make it look like its own kind of monster.

Sira watches Rani straighten herself, hands behind her back - standing perfectly at attention. The others ahead of Sira attempt something similar, but their posture isn't nearly as rigid or practiced as Rani's, especially Lionel's. Mikael, however, hangs back and makes no real effort to appear respectable. He stands in the shadow of the overhang to the door of the building, arms crossed and chin lowered. He almost looks bored.

Okay, Sira thinks, maybe they’re exactly not as official as I thought. At least, not this particular crew. They also remember the supposed captain’s oddly casual tone on the radio. Well, now they’re going to find out what the man is like in-person.

The vehicle slows to a halt in the street, only feet away from where Rani stands. The engine switches off as three figures swing the doors open, including a pair in the back, and hop onto the ground. They all don the same black armor and masks that Rani and the others wear. One of them, who climbed out of the driver’s seat, doesn’t waste any time approaching the group.

The captain, Sira assumes. Karim. He has a head of wavy dark hair tied up in a high, short ponytail. There's an air of easy confidence about him as he saunters towards Rani and gives the other two individuals with him a short wave of his hand. They take it as an order to hang back and slam the doors of their vehicle shut.

All the newcomers have guns on them, either clasped in their hands or slung over their shoulders within easy reach. Sira's stomach knots up a bit, but they're determined not to let any nervousness show - not any more than what might be showing already. As Karim gets closer, however, Sira notices something that brings something else to their attention that they wouldn't have noticed otherwise.

The two people with him have thin, tied-cloth cloth armbands that stand out against the black of the rest of their armor. They’re white, with a single, vertical black stripe that cuts through the center. Karim also has an armband, but Sira wouldn’t have been able to pick it out if they hadn’t seen the ones the others were wearing, since it is almost the reverse of the armbands the others are wearing - black, with four white vertical stripes.

Quickly glancing around, Sira sees that Rani, Therese, Lionel, and Mikael all wear ones that are like Karim’s, except Rani’s has two stripes, while the rest have just one.

Must be something that indicates rank, they guess. Good to know.

“Well, this place obviously hasn’t collapsed on your heads, so I can safely rule that out as the ‘problem’ you’re being so secretive about - at ease, lieutenant.” Karim gives Rani an additional small wave before resting both of his hands on his hips. “But I’m counting an extra head. Who’s this?”

He looks at Sira, whose shoulders turn rigid without them meaning to. Karim came off as nice enough over the radio, sure, but this is someone who’s in charge. More in charge than Rani, and while they may not know for sure what the armbands and stripes indicate, four seems like a lot. They can’t help but avert their eyes to examine the expanse of cracks in the pavement instead and use one hand to sheepishly rub the opposite arm. So much for not coming off as nervous.

Rani relaxes her posture - but only a little. She glances between the captain and Sira, clearly having difficulty figuring out how to explain. They can’t blame her. “This is...Sira, sir. We rescued them from a phantom attack just a little while ago. It was a close call.”

He turns back to Rani. Behind the visor of his mask, one of his eyebrows raises. "I'd heard something about an attack on a civilian, but I wasn't around when Therese called it in. It's not like you at all to attempt such a thing without clearing it with me beforehand."

“I-I know, sir, but I did what I felt was necessary at the time. If we’d waited any longer, I don’t think they would have survived.”

Sira’s stomach knots up further as the image comes back to their mind’s eye: the phantom advancing on them, its fingers warping into distorted, sharpened points. They don’t want to imagine what happens once one ‘gets’ a person, and what it would have felt like. That’s something they think they’re better off not asking about at any point. The concept of the mist transforming what were once ordinary human beings into those monsters is enough nightmare fuel as it is.

Karim considers her words for a minute, looking back at Sira and studying them, which doesn’t help the steadily increasing anxiety inside their body. Then, he gives Rani a short nod. “Alright. We’ll have to go over the particulars later, but you know that I trust the calls you make...most of the time. Not a huge deal to me, but you know how protocol is. But don’t tell me you requested I come out here personally just to take in a survivor.”

Stolen novel; please report.

“No, sir.” Rani half-glances back at Sira before returning her attention to Karim. “I...think it might be the most convincing if we show you rather than tell you, but I’ll have to ask you to order those men to refrain from firing”

“Uh, and why would I need to do that?”

“I’m asking you to trust me, sir,” Rani says, returning to her earlier stance, shoulders raised and chin held high, “it’s going to seem absolutely crazy, but you wouldn’t believe me without showing you.”

He pauses, then huffs as he turns back towards the armored pair who remain by the vehicle as he had instructed. “You two, stand by. No shots are to be fired unless I specifically order you to do so, regardless of what happens, got it?”

The two of them nod without question. He then turns back to Rani, who turns herself towards Sira. They make eye contact with her as she gestures for them to come closer, which they do with reluctance in their step. She then points to the straps on the back of her mask, and what she's getting at instantly clicks into place, even inside Sira's tired mind.

Aware of Karim’s attention on them, Sira timidly reaches back behind their head and starts to undo the straps that secure the respirator to their face. They lower their head for easier access but catch him stiffen from what they’re still able to see. His hand flies to the grip of a gun holstered in his belt, although he doesn’t draw it. Rani technically only asked for him to order his associates to avoid firing, but maybe she trusted she wouldn’t have to specify him as well.

It takes a bit longer than they want, but Sira successfully undoes the straps and lifts their head back up as they remove the mask from their face. There's plenty of mist surrounding them, interrupted only by the beams of light from the headlamps of the transport vehicle. Sira takes a slow, deep breath, and lets it out just as slowly, which they do to try and help keep calm, but they're sure it also adds to the point.

Silence. The tension in the air is as thick as the mist.

Gazing down at the shiny visor of the mask they’re not holding, Sira is unable to meet Karim’s eye, but the way the hand that was on his gun goes completely slack is enough to go by. So are the audible sounds of shock and horror from the other two behind him. One of them trips as they recoil backward and the other throws their hands up in front of them as if to shield themselves from an explosion.

Karim's voice comes out in a low breath, sounding like it's directed more at himself than anyone else: "Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me."

-

The ride back to the ‘base,’ as they call it, is far too bumpy for Sira to relax. They sit squished between Rani’s broad shoulders and the interior wall of the truck that juts out to divide the drivers’ seats from the back portion. The seats in the back are positioned along the walls, facing each other, so that they’re sat directly across from Karim. Next to him are Lionel and Therese, with Mikael on the other side of Rani.

The captain doesn’t seem to be paying too much attention to them, his head tilted back to look up towards the roof of the vehicle. His eyes are closed like he’s trying to sleep. With the way the back of the car violently rocks when they hit a bump in the road - and there are a lot of bumps in the road - there’s no chance that is the case.

Aside from the unsteadiness, the ride is quiet at first. It's as if Karim doesn't feel the need to discuss the matter at all, having pieced the situation together in his head immediately once Sira removed the mask. They'd put it back on afterward without having been told to; they're not eager to have anyone else gawking at them unless necessary.

The level of apprehension in the air makes it so someone is bound to break the silence, though, and that someone turns out to be Rani. Her back is straight up off the seat, with both her arms and legs tightly crossed.

“What are we going to do?”

Karim answers her without lifting his head or even opening his eyes: “Your earlier method for proving this was damning, but it still needs to be tested before we can do anything with it. The doc back at the base can take care of that. Regardless of whatever that reveals, probably headquarters. This is already a massive pain in my ass and the hard part hasn’t even started yet.”

Sira feels a pang of guilt at that statement. They're already a burden, no matter how much they don't want to be. At the same time though, they feel frustration - both at being talked about as if they're not here, and at being regarded as a 'massive pain in the ass' when all they want right now is food, water, and something to sleep on that isn't a cold, hard floor. Perhaps new clothes and a bath, but they don't want to get too ahead of themselves.

Everything else is a role in this that they didn’t ask for.

“Um...what kind of testing do you mean?” Sira asks, deciding to insert themselves into a conversation that was about them anyways.

Too bad their voice still sounds pathetic. Maybe that's just how their voice is always going to sound. They don't have a frame of reference for how it is 'normally,' after all, other than some vague intuition in their head, but there's no telling how correct that vague intuition is.

“Bloodwork, probably,” Lionel answers as he fidgets with the sleeves of his armor, “then doing something to observe how it reacts to the pathogen. I’ve been told in lab testing there’s usually something immediate and obvious. In your case...”

“...there’s no telling what will happen because this is unprecedented.” The captain straightens himself and runs both of his gloved hands down the front of his mask, a poor substitute for running them down his actual face. “My apologies, Sira, for not exactly being hospitable right now. It’s been a very long day. Are you alright?”

Although he’s finally acknowledging them directly in conversation, they aren’t sure what to say to that, so they just give him a small nod. He chuckles. The noise is strikingly sincere.

“You look as run ragged as I feel, but no worries. There’s food, water, and places to sleep back at F-6, once we get all the boring, headache-inducing stuff over with.”

Sira sinks further into the thin cushioning of their seat. They thought as much, but hearing him say it gave the idea more solidity than something to merely hope for.

Karim then leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. Faint wrinkles frame the pair of dark eyes hiding behind the visor of his mask. “So, you really don’t remember anything before today?”

They shake their head. Thinking of the place they woke up in triggers nausea in their gut and anything before that seems...entirely walled off. “I wish that I did. I’m sorry.”

"No need to apologize. I think you're telling the truth," he says as he leans back again and folds his hands together. "Problem is, my boss is certainly going to want more than that. Hopefully it comes back to you soon, but I wouldn't stress about it too much. I don't think you can force that kind of thing."

“Who’s your boss?” Sira asks.

“The Director, the Commander, the General. Whatever you call her, she’s the one in charge of the entire Counter-Phantom Corps. You’ll most likely be meeting her soon enough.” He shrugs his shoulders. “If you ask me, ‘General’ is a more fitting title, but I think she’s chosen to label herself ‘Director’ because it sounds cooler.”

Lionel snorts at that but makes no other comment, and no one else seems to find it humorous. Sira's eyes drift down to their hands folded delicately in their lap. Still ghastly pale. Still bony and thin.

“General...like, in an army?”

“Essentially,” Karim says, “though it’s a little more complex than that. As you might have guessed, we also conduct scientific research, not to mention we’ve headed most of the major infrastructure and restoration projects in the country since, well, the End of the World.”

So things did use to be normal once, Sira thinks, but now they’re like this.

Not as if they know what ‘normal’ truly looked like. It’s something else that comes from that vague intuition. That might be a blessing in disguise - if this disease turning people into monsters is what caused the world to ‘end,’ then they’re probably lucky to not have any idea about the horror of how that went down.

It’s something else they’re better off not asking about, but this time, their curiosity tips the scales in its favor inside of their mind: “How did it happen?”

"...huh." The captain sighs again as he crosses one leg over the other. "You really must have bumped your head something nasty, kid. What do you think? The mist came out of nowhere, mutated tons of people into phantoms, and those proceeded to spread it to tons of other people. Then, chaos and the collapse of human civilization as we knew it - though none of us were around then. Hell of a miracle that enough people lived through it for us to be where we are now."

It would have to be a miracle. The mist looks like it’s everywhere.

Sira's hands unconsciously clench together, and they take in a shaky breath. An unpleasant feeling they can't put a name to settles in their gut, on top of hints of the nausea that has come and gone throughout the day. Karim lines his words with facetiousness, but a harrowing quality still weighs them down that seems to evade everyone else around them.

They can only guess as to why that is, but they don’t want to.

Sira briefly looks over the masked faces that surround them in the back of the transport vehicle. For a world that has allegedly ended, these people are still here, and from the way they talk, there are plenty of others who are surviving just as they are. They recall Therese mentioning ‘settlements’ before back at the apartment - that might be the term for where ordinary people now live their lives.

There’s at least a little comfort in that.

“...how did anyone survive?” They ask.

Karim makes a noncommittal gesture with one hand. "Some places it hardly touched, like high in the mountains or otherwise far removed from civilization. No one knows why, or where the mist even came from, but I gotta assume some of the people it didn't kill happened to be smart, resourceful, and altruistic."

"The records of that period are few and far between," Therese adds, "I've looked through the archives myself, but what is there is very interesting. Thankfully, the documentation of how our predecessors figured out the technology we have to filter the air is well-preserved, but it's not enough to eliminate the mist entirely."

Sira tilts their head. "There's technology to filter it?"

It’s hard to see in the dark of the vehicle’s interior, not to mention with the mask in the way, but the small bits that Sira can make out suggest a delighted gleam in Therese’s eyes. “You’re about to see for yourself.”

Without warning, the truck jerks to a stop. Sira’s hands dart forward to grasp the edge of their seat and keep from tumbling over, but the others are unperturbed. Karim stands to the highest point he’s able to in the cramped space and pokes his head into the driver’s section to exchange words with the additional personnel. After a second, he twists himself back around to face them again.

“We’ve arrived at our destination, folks. Save me the headache and try not to stand out too much.”