[Sam Yoon. 16 years old. New Yorker born and raised. His mother is alone back at the Base of Operations. He'll survive, but he'll never be the same again.]
[He's luckier than almost everyone else in Benitez's files. There's not enough left of them to give anyone closure. The basement feels too small for so much suffering. the air is thick. Lindianne can't breathe. Can't think. Can't do anything besides put a hand on Sam's shoulder and squeeze it as gently as she dares.]
[They're down there for what feels like an eternity. She fades back up the stairs at some point before the JTF medics arrive. The building will be sealed up, of course. No one else is going to be using this as a base for inflicting human suffering. The perpetrators are either dead or in lock-up. It's over.]
[Try as they might, the JTF never find a sign of Eugene Peterson. They never find his body. The only reminders that he ever lived in an ECHO recording and the watch in Lindianne's hands.]
[Neptune won't have to look hard to find her when they come looking. All they need to do is listen for the inarticulate cry of rage and the sound of metal skidding across the floor. She's sitting halfway up the stairs to the second floor, arms folded over her knees and her head buried inside the protective circle. Her ISAC watch lies at the foot of the stairs. The orange glow feels like a match against a starless night: almost pointless.]
no subject
[He's luckier than almost everyone else in Benitez's files. There's not enough left of them to give anyone closure. The basement feels too small for so much suffering. the air is thick. Lindianne can't breathe. Can't think. Can't do anything besides put a hand on Sam's shoulder and squeeze it as gently as she dares.]
[They're down there for what feels like an eternity. She fades back up the stairs at some point before the JTF medics arrive. The building will be sealed up, of course. No one else is going to be using this as a base for inflicting human suffering. The perpetrators are either dead or in lock-up. It's over.]
[Try as they might, the JTF never find a sign of Eugene Peterson. They never find his body. The only reminders that he ever lived in an ECHO recording and the watch in Lindianne's hands.]
[Neptune won't have to look hard to find her when they come looking. All they need to do is listen for the inarticulate cry of rage and the sound of metal skidding across the floor. She's sitting halfway up the stairs to the second floor, arms folded over her knees and her head buried inside the protective circle. Her ISAC watch lies at the foot of the stairs. The orange glow feels like a match against a starless night: almost pointless.]
[She says nothing. Merely sits.]