A/N: I'm so sorry this took so long! Exam season had me stressed out to the max and time has been REALLY short for me. Plus, against better judgement, I've just posted a bunch of other stories without actually thinking about the time I have to finish them. I'm such a genius, right? Haha...
But, anyways, my grades are fine. All straight As. I just have to work a smidgen harder and I'll get my med school dream! But enough about exams! How have you guys been? Have you missed me not updating?
You know, we only have around two chapters left before this book is done. Should I do the two others that follow this? That's when a lot of major lore changes happen in my little AU version of this.
I'm just babbling now... Sorry. I'm just super excited cause I got a summer job~ I'm gonna get PAID.
Wanna guess my age? Feel free to. I'm feeling totally random today ;)
CarBarrier - Thanks for always reviewing! You don't know how happy your reviews make me :)
Till next time,
D.L.D
*I do not own Divergent or any of its character and plot work. This is simply an adaption*
Chapter Thirty-Six: Teamwork
To make this plan run as smoothly as possible, I knew that I needed to be prepared, smart, about this. I couldn't just go rushing in, guns blazing, like the Dauntless in me would. I also couldn't trade myself in like the Abnegation in me would. Instead, I needed to think. I needed to carefully plan and plot my every move, anticipating the equal and opposite reaction of the Erudite and Dauntless forces piled against me.
Right now, the Erudite and Dauntless forces are concentrated in the Abnegation sector of the city, so as long as we run away from the Abnegation sector, we are less likely to encounter many difficulties. The less difficulties we face, the more chance of success we have. I want us to succeed.
I didn't get to decide who is coming with me. Veronica was an obvious choice, since she knew about Mael's research and also knew how to shoot a gun. Damon insisted that he go, despite my protests, because he is good with computers. Zeldris was the only other person fully trained in Dauntless behaviours. And my father acted like his place was assumed from the beginning - fitting for a council member of Abnegation.
I watch the others, those who would not follow us, run in the opposite direction - toward safety, toward Amity - for a few seconds and feel something lift. Relief. I am glad that some part of my faction, my old life, will survive this massacre. But, once they are gone, once their grey shirts and slacks fade into thin, streaming ribbons, I turn away, toward the city, toward dangerous war. We all stand next to the railway tracks which will carry us into danger.
"What time is it?" I ask Veronica.
She checks her watch, "Three twelve."
"Should be here any second," I say, watching out for the tell-tale gleam of the Dauntless train.
"Will it stop?"
I shake my head. "It goes slowly through the city. We'll run next to the car for a few feet and then jump inside."
Jumping on trains seems easy to me now, natural. It won't be easy for the rest of them, but we can't stop now. I look over my left shoulder and see the headlights burning gold against the gray buildings and roads. I bounce on the balls of my feet as the light grows larger and larger, and then the front of the train glides past me and I start jogging. When I see an open car, I pick up my pace to keep stride with it and grab the handle on the left, swinging myself inside.
Zeldris follows soon after, easily getting into the car. Veronica jumps, landing hard and rolling on her side to get in, and helps Damon. My father lands on his stomach, pulling his legs in behind him. The Abnegation members move away from the doorway, but Zeldris and I stand on the edge, one hand gripped around the handle, watching the city pass by. Even among our own origins, our beginnings, we are different.
If I were Vivian, I would send majority of Dauntless soldiers to the Dauntless entrance above the Pit, outside the glass building. It would be smarter to go back in through the back entrance, the one that requires jumping off a building. The only risk there is that someone will not jump.
"I assume you both now regret choosing Dauntless," Damon says abruptly, his eyes fixed onto me as well as Zeldris. His expression is unreadable, but from his tone of voice I can sense some form of self-righteous justice, an arrogant smugness. It makes me stiffen.
Honestly, I am surprised that my father has not asked that question yet, but he, like me, is watching the city pass. He is also someone who knows the time and place for personal confrontation. The train passes through the Erudite compound, which is dark now. It looks peaceful from a distance, and inside those walls, it probably is peaceful. They are far removed from the conflict and reality of what they have done.
"No," I shake my head.
"I don't regret it," Zeldris agrees, his gaze fixed to the passing city. He doesn't bother to even glance back. "If anything I prefer it."
"Not even after your faction's leaders decided to join in a plot to overthrow the government?" Damon spits, his distaste and venom obvious.
"There were some things I needed to learn," I answer before Zeldris can, changing the subject to that of my own journey of self-discovery. The last thing we need right now is internal conflict. If we wanted to infiltrate Dauntless HQ successfully, then we needed to work as a team, a unit.
My father catches on immediately, chiming in, "Like how to be brave?"
"How to be selfless," I smile at him, my face feeling warm. I feel wise reciting what I have learned over initiation. "Often they are the same thing."
"Is that why you got Abnegation's symbol tattooed onto your shoulder?" Veronica asks, pointing to my shoulder. I'm pretty sure I spot a smile hidden within my father's eyes.
I grin faintly back and nod, "And Dauntless on the other."
The glass building above the Pit reflects sunlight into my eyes. I stand, holding the handle next to the door for balance. Almost there. We just have to wait a little longer and we'll be one step closer to restoring peace.
"When I tell you to jump," I nearly shout, trying to combat the rapid winds of the speeding train. Tendrils of hair whip into my face. "Jump as far as you can."
"Jump?" My father frowns, his features creasing with concern. Worry. "Elizabeth, we are seven stories up from the ground!"
"Onto a roof," Zeldris rolls his eyes, adding on the extra information. Spotting the stunned looks of the Abnegation around us, he sighs and adds, rather tired. "It's a test of bravery. The Dauntless like to make their initiates choose to be brave - make them think that they're between life and death."
That is true. Half of bravery is perspective. The first time I did this, it had been one of the hardest things I had ever done. Everything within me was panicking, quaking, worrying about what would happen if I did not make that jump. Now, preparing to jump off a moving train is nothing because I have done more difficult things in the past few weeks than most people will in their lifetime. And yet none of it compares to what I am about to do in the Dauntless compound. If I survive, I will undoubtedly go on to do far more difficult things than even that, like live without a faction, something I always thought impossible.
"You go first, father," I say, stepping back so he can stand at the edge. If he and Damon go first, I can time it so that they have the shortest jumping distance. Hopefully, Veronica, Zeldris and I can make the larger jump because we are younger. It's a chance I have to take.
The train tracks smoothly curve and when they line up with the side of the building, I shout, "Jump!"
My father bends his knees and launches himself forward. We don't wait to see if he makes it. Instead, Zeldris shoves Damon forward, and says, "Move it, old man."
My father lands on the roof, so close to the edge that I gasp. He sits down on the gravel, expressionless, running a hand through his grey hair. Veronica is next, and when I push her in front of me, she silently stands at the edge of the train car and jumps without me telling her to. I then take a few steps back to give myself a running start and leap out of the car.
For an instant, I am suspended in nothingness, and then my feet slam into the cement and I stumble to the side, away from the roof's edge. My knees ache and the impact rattles through my entire body, making my shoulder throb. Sending dust into the air, Zeldris follows, rolling instead of landing stationary, just as the car passes the end of the roof. Looking across the rooftop, I breathe heavily and sit down on the gravel. Veronica and my father are standing at the roof's edge, their hands around Damon's arms. He didn't make it, but he hasn't fallen yet.
Somewhere inside me, a vicious voice chants: fall, fall, fall.
But he doesn't. My father and Veronica haul him up onto the roof. Brushing the gravel from my pants, I stand and shake my head. The thought of what comes next has me preoccupied. It is one thing to ask people to jump off a train, but off a roof?
"This next part is why I asked about heights," I say quietly, walking to the edge of the roof. I hear their shuffling footsteps behind me and step onto the ledge. Wind rushes up the side of the building and lifts my shirt from my skin. Instantly, goosebumps rise. I look down at the hole in the ground and then close my eyes as the air blows over my face.
"There's a net at the bottom," I say, looking over my shoulder. They all look confused - well, everyone except Zeldris. The rest haven't exactly figured out what I'm asking them to do yet.
"Don't think," I smile a little, looking back at the hole. "Just jump."
I turn, and as I turn, I lean back, compromising my balance. I drop like a stone, my eyes closed, one arm outstretched to feel the wind pass by. Before I hit the net, I relax my muscles and body as much as I can. Unfortunately, it still feels like a slab of cement when I hit it, the string jarring my injured shoulder. Gritting my teeth, I roll to the edge of the net and grab the pole that supports it, swinging my leg over the side. I land on my knees on the platform, my eyes blurry with tears.
Veronica yelps as the net curls around her body and then straightens. I stand with some difficulty.
"Veronica!" I hiss. "Over here!"
Breathing heavily, Veronica crawls over to the side of the net and drops over the edge, hitting the platform hard. She doesn't wince. Instead, she pushes herself to her feet, her features scrunched, before staring at me, wide-eyed, her mouth open.
"How many times...have you...done that?" She asks, still trying to catch her breath. She takes in a deep gulp of air, forcing her lungs and heart to cooperate. "It's terrifying!"
"Twice now," I say calmly. Proudly.
Veronica only shakes her head, disbelieving.
When my father hits the net, Veronica helps him across. When he finally stands on the platform, he leans and vomits over the side, the sound echoing around the empty cavern. Trying to ignore the sound of emptying bowels, I descend down the stairs, and once I have, I hear Damon hit the net with a groan. Zeldris yells something after him before promptly landing, easily rolling off the net and dragging his father beside him.
All around, darkness stretches. The caverns are empty bowels of gloom; the hallways are endless tunnels of shadow.
Vivian made it sound like there was no-one left in the Dauntless compound aside from the soldiers she sent back to guard the computers. If we can find Dauntless soldiers, we can find the computers controlling them. That was the only logical conclusion I could come to, and since Erudite was logic-based, it was our best bet.
Glancing over my shoulder, I check to see if everyone had truly made it down here safely. White as a sheet but unharmed, Damon stands on the platform, peering around the gloomy cavern as if he could make out something from it. Scrutiny was in his eye, heavy judgement, and I could tell that he was about to say something. Share his opinion. For once, he only shares a fact - a simple, clipped statement.
"So this is the Dauntless compound," He says.
"Yes," I say, expecting something else to escape. Something judgmental. "And?"
"And I never thought that I would get to see it," He says, his hand skimming an uneven wall. His dark eyes meet mine, the same deep green as Meliodas' yet also not. They are not as sleepy, not as thoughtful and bright. They lack youth, ambition. "No need to be so defensive, Elizabeth."
I never noticed how cold his eyes were before. How much they lacked.
"Do you have a plan, Elizabeth?" My father asks, drawing my attention.
"Yes," I respond. And it's true. I do have a plan, although I am unsure as to when I developed it. It just came to me, revealed itself, as I went through the steps part by part.
I'm not entirely sure if my plan will work. All I can count on are a few things: the majority of Dauntless soldiers being absent from the compound, the Dauntless aren't known for their subtlety, and I'll do anything to stop them. Anything.
We walk down the hallway leading to the Pit, which is striped with light every ten feet. When we walk into the first strip of light, I hear a gunshot, rattling and echoing, and drop down the ground. Someone must have seen us. The light has given us away. Crawling, I drag my body into the next dark patch ahead. The spark from the gun flashed across the room by the door that leads to the Pit. That means the shooter is there.
"Everyone ok?" I ask, glancing back to check.
"Yes," My father responds.
"Everyone stay here, then," I say, getting up from the ground. I glance back to Zeldris. "Protect them."
He nods.
Running, I head to the side of the room. The lights protrude from the wall, so directly beneath each one is a slit of shadow. If I turn to the side, I am small enough to fit and hide within it. If I'm quiet enough, I can creep along the edge of the room and surprise whatever guard is shooting at us before he gets a chance to fire a bullet into my brain. Maybe. I just have to be quick and quiet enough. Small and sneaky enough.
Taking in a deep breath, I edge along the wall. One of the things I thank Dauntless for is the preparedness that eliminates my fear.
"Whoever's there," A voice shouts, echoing along the empty walls. "Surrender your weapons and put your hands up!"
Turning to the side, I press my back to the stone wall. I shuffle quickly sideways, one foot crossing over the other, squinting to see through the semidarkness. Another gunshot fires into gloomy silence. Its flash was still located by the door, right by the Pit. I reach the last light and stand for a moment in the shadow, letting my eyes adjust. I have to be able to see if I wanted to succeed. I had to have all possible advantage.
I know that I can't win a fight. I am not physically capable of winning a fight. But, if I am fast enough, I won't have to fight. My footsteps light, I walk toward the guard who is stationed by the door. A few yards away, I realise that I know that shiny, silver hair that always gleams, even in relative darkness, and that long nose with that narrow bridge. That face cannot be forgotten; that face will forever be one I can recognise.
It's Estarossa.
Cold slips over my skin and around my heart and into the pit of my stomach.
His face is tense - he isn't a sleepwalker. He looks around, but his eyes search the air above me and beyond me. Judging by his silence, he does not intend to negotiate with us; he will kill us without question. Not that I expected much more: he stabbed someone in the eye.
Licking my lips, I sprint the last few steps and thrust the heel of my hand up, powerfully. The blow connects with his nose, and he shouts, bringing both hands up to cover his face and nose. My body jolts with nervous energy and as he squints his eyes, I kick him right in the groin. Hard. He drops to his knees, his gun clattering to the ground. Without hesitation, I grab it and push the barrel to his head, my finger hovering over the trigger.
"Are you awake?" I demand.
He lifts his head and I click a bullet into the chamber, raising a brow.
"The Dauntless leaders...they evaluated my records and released me from the simulation," Estarossa answers, eyeing the gun in my hand.
"Because they already figured out that you had murderous tendencies and wouldn't mind killing a few people while conscious," I finish off, sniffing. "Makes sense."
"I'm not...murderous!"
"I never knew a Candor who was such a liar," I tap the gun against his skull, shaking my head. Sighing, I look at him once more. "Where are the computers that control the simulation, Estarossa?"
He grins. A wide, smug grin. The sort that lights up his eyes and makes them shine like his shiny, silver hair. The same smile that sickens me, disgusts me, as I know it is the one he has when he is smug. Certain. An arrogant, misplaced asshole.
"You won't shoot me."
"People tend to overestimate my character," I say quietly, softly. "They think that because I am small, or a girl, or a Stiff, I can't possibly be cruel. They think I don't have a single cruel bone in my body. But they're wrong."
Shifting the gun left three inches, I fire, hitting him right in the arm.
His screams fill the hallway. Blood spurts from the wound, and he screams again, pressing his forehead to the ground. I shift the gun back to Estarossa's head, ignoring the pang of guilt I feel within my chest. My heart. I cannot show that I am really soft; I cannot show that I am not really cruel.
"Now that you realise your mistake," I clear my throat. "I will give you another chance to tell me what I need to know before I shoot you somewhere worse."
Another thing I can count on: Estarossa is not selfless.
He turns his head and focuses a dark eye on me. His teeth close over his lower lip, and his breaths shake on the way out. And on the way in. And on the way out again. He is considering. He is agreeing. Life is more important than honor to Estarossa.
"They're listening," He finally spits. "If you don't kill me, they will. The only way I'll tell you is if you get me out of here."
I blink, "What?"
"Take me...ahh...with you," He says, wincing. For once there is vulnerability in his eyes. Intense fear.
"You want me to take you," I repeat, my eyes wide. "The person who tried to kill me...with me?"
"I do," He groans, his face paling and building with sweat. "If you can expect to find out what you need to know."
It feels like a choice, but it isn't. Every minute that I waste staring at Estarossa, thinking about how he haunts my nightmares and the damage he did to me, another dozen Abnegation members die at the hands of the brain-dead Dauntless army. Even if I was selfish, even if a part of me wants to leave Estarossa dead, I know what is right. I know what is more important here than myself and my own feelings; it's more important than my own life.
"Fine," I say, choking on the words. "Fine."
I hear footsteps behind me. Holding the gun steady, I look over my shoulder. My father and the others walk toward us, all of them lead by Zeldris and appearing very relieved.
My father takes off his long-sleeved shirt. He wears a plain grey t-shirt beneath it. Crouching next to Estarossa, he loops the fabric around his arm, tying it tightly. As he presses the fabric to the blood running down Estarossa's arm, he looks up at me and says, "Was it really necessary to shoot him?"
I don't answer.
"Sometimes pain is necessary for the greater good," Damon says calmly, wisely, as if quoting from a deep and valuable life-lesson book.
In my head, I see him looming before Meliodas with a belt in hand. I see him towering over a defenseless child, ready to strike him senseless, and hear his voice echo. This is for your own good. I look at Damon for a few good seconds, study him closely. Does he really believe that? Does he really believe that pain breeds purity and goodness? It sounds like something the Dauntless would say. It sounds like something that breeds more cruelty than good.
"Let's go," I say firmly, distantly. "Get up, Estarossa."
"You want him to walk?" Veronica demands, her eyes wide as she looks at me. "Are you insane?"
"Did she shoot him in the leg?" Zeldris quizzes, raises a brow. He is the only one who truly knows what Estarossa is like. The only one who had witnessed the horrors he has caused. "No. He can walk. Tell us where to go, Estarossa."
Defiantly, Veronica helps Estarossa to his feet. Her annoyance is obvious.
"The glass building," He winces, his features straining with pain. "Eighth floor."
He leads the way through the door.
I walk into the roar of the river and the blue glow of the Pit, which is now emptier than I have ever seen it before. I scan the walls, searching for signs of life, but I see no movement and no figures standing or waiting in the darkness. I keep my gun in hand and start toward the path that leads to the glass ceiling. The emptiness makes me shiver. It reminds me of the endless field in my vicious crow nightmares.
"What makes you think you have the right to shoot someone?" My father asks as he follows me up the path, his brows set low and in high disapproval. We pass the tattoo place. Where is Jenna now? And Diane?
"Now isn't the time for debates about ethics," I say, already loathing myself for a lot of my actions today. But I can't dwell on them. I can't. If I do, I will stop and shut down. I will completely lock and fail to do anything. Everything. And everyone is counting on me to fix this. Everyone is counting on me to help fix the disaster that is currently killing off my birth faction.
"Now is the perfect time," My father insists, seeming even more disappointed in me than before. "Because you will soon get the opportunity to shoot someone again, and if you don't realise- "
"Realise what?" I say without turning around. "That every second I waste means another Abnegation dead and another Dauntless made into a murderer? I've realised that. I'm doing all I can to stop it. Now it's your turn."
"There is a right way to do things."
"What makes you so sure that you know what it is?" I ask.
"Please stop fighting," Veronica cuts between us, her voice chiding. Frowning, she flicks my nose and glares softly at our father. "We have more important things to do right now. You're both being rather selfish."
I keep climbing, my cheeks hot and my nose stinging. A few months ago, I would have dared to snap at my father. A few hours ago, I might not have done it either. But something within me changed when they shot Margaret. When they took Meliodas. Something within me snapped and refused to ever be fixed after I'd shot down King.
I hear my father huff and puff over the sound of rushing water. I forgot that he is older than I am, that his frame can no longer tolerate the weight of his body. Maybe I am becoming more selfish; maybe I was always selfish.
I do not know anymore.
Before I ascend the metal staircase that will carry me above the glass ceiling, I wait in darkness and watch the light cast onto the Pit walls by the sun. I watch until a shadow shifts over the sunlit wall and count until the next shadow appears. The guards make their rounds every minute and a half, stand for twenty seconds, and then move on.
"There are men with guns up there. When they see me, they will kill me, if they can," I tell my father quietly. I search his eyes. "Should I let them?"
He stares at me for a few seconds.
"Go," He tells me. "And let God help you."
I climb the stairs carefully, stopping just before my head emerges. I wait, watching the shadows move, and when one of them stops, I step up, point my gun, and shoot. The bullet does not hit the guard. It shatters the window behind him, the glass falling and splintering on the ground. I fire again and duck as bullets hit the floor around me with a ding. Thank God the glass ceiling is bulletproof, or the glass would break and I would fall to my death.
One guard down. I breathe deeply and put just my hand over the ceiling, looking through the glass to see my target. I tilt the gun back and fire at the guard running straight toward me, gritting my teeth. The bullet hits him in the arm. Luckily, it's his shooting arm and the gun he holds plummets to the floor, skidding against the glass.
My body shaking, I launch myself through the hole in the ceiling and snatch the fallen gun before he can get it. A bullet whizzes pat my head, so close to hitting me that it moves my hair. Eyes wide, I fling my right arm over my shoulder, forcing searing pain through my body, and fire three times behind me. By some miracle, one of the bullets hits a guard, and my eyes water uncontrollably from the pain in my shoulder. I've just ripped my stitches. I'm sure of it.
Another guard stands across from me. I lie flat on my stomach and point both guns at him, my arms resting on the floor. I stare into the black pinprick that is his gun barrel.
Then something surprising happens. He jerks his chin to the side, telling me to go.
He must be Divergent.
"All clear!" I shout.
The guard ducks into the fear landscape room and he is gone.
Slowly I get to my feet, holding my right arm against my chest. I have tunnel vision. I am running along this path and I will not be able to stop, will not be able to think of anything, until I have reached the end.
I hand one gun to Zeldris and slide the other under my belt.
"I think you, Veronica and Damon should stay here with him," I say, jerking my head toward Estarossa. "He'll just slow us down. Make sure no-one comes after us."
I hope that Zeldris doesn't understand what I am doing here - keeping him here so he and the others stay safe, even though he would gladly give his life for this. If I go up into the building, I probably won't come back with my life. The best I can hope for is to destroy the simulation before anyone kills me. When did I decide on this suicide mission? Why wasn't it more difficult? Why was I so ready to die?
"I can't stay down here while you go up there and risk your life, Elizabeth," Veronica shakes her head, pledging herself to the cause. "I'm meant to protect you. I'm your big sister."
"I need you to," I say, smiling softly. "Help Zeldris protect these two. Please, Veronica."
Estarossa sinks to his knees. His face glistens with sweat. For a second, I almost feel bad for him, but then I remember Gerheade, and the itch of fabric over my eyes as my attackers blindfolded me, and my sympathy is lost for resentment. Not hatred - resentment. Hatred is too strong to direct to anyone.
Eventually, Veronica nods.
I approach one of the fallen guards and take his gun, keeping my eyes away from the injury that killed him. My head pounds. I haven't eaten; I haven't slept; I haven't sobbed or screamed or even paused for a moment. I bite my lip and push myself toward the elevators on the right side of the room. Level eight.
Once the elevator doors close, I lean my head against the cool glass and listen to the beeps.
I glance at my father.
"Thank you. For protecting Veronica," My father says. "Elizabeth, I- "
The elevator reaches the eighth floor and the doors open. Two guards stand ready with guns in their hands, their faces blank. My eyes widen and I drop to my belly on the ground as the shots go off. I hear bullets strike glass. The guards slump to the ground, one alive and groaning, the other fading fast. My father stands above them, his gun still held out from his body. For once he does not look like an Abnegation man.
I stumble to my feet. Guards run down the hallway to the left. Judging by the synchronicity of their footsteps, they are controlled by the simulation. I could run down the right hallway, but if the guards came from the left, that's where the computers are. I drop the ground between the guards my father had shot down and lie as still as I can.
My father jumps out of the elevator and immediately sprints down the right hallway, drawing the Dauntless guards after him. I clap my hand over my mouth to keep myself from screaming at him. The hallway will end. He will be cornered.
I try to bury my head so that I won't see it, but I can't. I peer over the fallen guard's back. My father fires over his shoulder at the guards pursuing him, but he is not fast enough. One of them fires at his stomach, and he groans so loud that I can feel it in my chest.
He clutches his gut, his shoulders hitting the wall, and he fires again. And again. The guards are under the simulation; they keep moving, even when the bullet hit them, keeping moving until their hearts stop, but they don't reach my father. Blood spills over his hand, his face drains into a pale, ashy white. Another shot and the last guard is down. Dead.
"Dad," I say. I mean for it to be a shout, but all that leaves my lips is a wheeze.
He slumps to the ground. Our eyes meet like the yards between us are nothing. His mouth opens as if he's about to say something, but then his chin drops and his body relaxes.
My eyes burn and I am too weak to rise; the scent of sweat and blood makes me feel sick. I want my head to rest on the ground and let that be the end of it. I want to sleep now and never wake up. Never see this cruel, unfair world again.
But what I said before to my father is right - for every second that I waste, another Abnegation member dies. There is only one more thing left in the world for me now, and it is to destroy that simulation. To free the sleepwalking Dauntless and save the Abnegation.
I push myself up and run down the hallway, turning right at the end. There is only one door ahead. I open it.
The opposite wall is made entirely of screens, each a foot tall and a foot wide. There are dozens of them, each one showing different sectors of the city. The fence. The Hub. The streets in the Abnegation sector, now crawling with Dauntless soldiers. The ground level of the building below us, where Veronica, Zeldris, Damon and Estarossa wait for me to return. It is a wall of everything I have ever seen. Everything I have ever known.
One of the screens has a line of code on it instead of an image. It breezes past faster than I can read. It is the simulation, the code already compiled, a complicated list of commands that anticipate and address a thousand different outcomes.
In front of the screen is a chair and a desk. Sitting in the chair is a Dauntless soldier.
"Meliodas," I say.