The journey back to Pinewood was haunting for Trench. The destruction left in the wake of the AWE had erased much of what he remembered about his hometown. On his first day of leave from the FBC, he parked at the edge of what used to be Pinewood's main road, staring at the fragmented remnants of his childhood. He had returned to settle his parents' final affairs, though the task seemed insurmountable when it was difficult to even find their belongings among the ruins.

The air was still heavy with the strange energy that had permeated the AWE. Despite the Bureau's efforts to contain and neutralize the anomaly, Pinewood bore scars that could never heal. Trees grew in impossible patterns, twisting toward the sky like jagged sculptures. Houses were warped, their walls leaning at odd angles as if gravity itself had faltered. Trench sifted through the debris of his childhood home but found little that hadn't been consumed by time and otherworldly forces. It was only when he spotted the rusted mailbox—"TRENCH" barely visible under layers of grime that looked like it built up over years instead of days—that he felt the true weight of what had been lost.

Later that afternoon, Trench's search led him to Colin Evans, his childhood friend. The two hadn't seen each other in years, but Colin had stayed in touch sporadically, even after Trench disappeared from town. Colin had been away at college when the AWE struck and wanted to return for the weekend to find his own family home equally unrecognizable. They greeted each other with weary smiles and clasped hands, though neither man needed to say much; their shared losses spoke volumes.

Together, they scoured the ruins of Colin's home. It was just as futile as Trench's search had been. By the time they finished, the sun was sinking low, casting the skeletal remains of Pinewood in stark shadows. Their mutual frustration and sorrow needed an outlet, so they decided to head into the city for dinner and, perhaps, a momentary reprieve from the grief.

Seated in a small, dimly lit diner just outside the city limits, the two old friends began to catch up. Colin stirred his coffee absently, his voice heavy with regret as he described how he'd been planning to visit his parents the weekend the AWE struck.

"I was finishing my final semester," Colin explained. "Thought I'd surprise them, y'know? Take the train back and spend a few days at home. But..." He gestured vaguely, letting the words hang in the air.

Trench nodded, his expression unreadable. "It's not like we could've stopped it. Sometimes things that happen... they're beyond us."

Colin leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "Last I heard, you disappeared right after college. Graduated early and everything. Then… nothing. What've you been up to, Zach? Something tells me you're not working for a travel agency."

Trench gave a tight smile. "Government job. Lots of fieldwork. Sometimes it takes me... places."

Colin's eyes narrowed playfully. "Like a spy?"

"Exactly," Trench replied, deadpan. He raised his coffee cup in mock salute. "The worst kind of spy, if I'm telling you this."

Colin laughed, though the sound was tinged with disbelief. "You're not serious, are you?"

Trench's smirk faded. "Not entirely. But I do work for an agency that handles… unusual situations. I'll put it that way."

Colin raised an eyebrow but didn't press further. Instead, he nodded toward Trench. "Well, if your job involves cleaning up messes like this, maybe you can help. My parents' wills are probably filed with the county somewhere, but I'm clueless on how to get started. And the state of Pinewood doesn't exactly scream 'organized bureaucracy.'"

"I'll make some calls," Trench promised, already making a mental note to involve the Bureau's Communications Department to ensure a plausible cover story for any "government assistance" Colin might receive, in addition to a public story about what happened to the town.

By the time they finished dinner, it was late. As they stepped out of the diner, Colin glanced at Trench. "You've got a place to stay tonight?"

Trench hesitated, then shook his head. "Wasn't planning to crash anywhere. Figured I'd just go back to work. It's in the city anyway."

"That's a haul," Colin said. "My apartment's off-campus, not far from here. You're welcome to crash on the couch."

Trench considered the offer briefly, then nodded. "Thanks. I'll take you up on that."

They walked in silence toward Colin's car, their footsteps echoing in the empty streets. For the first time in years, Trench felt a flicker of familiarity—not just in the physical sense of being back in the area where he'd grown up, but in the quiet companionship of a friend who, despite everything, still seemed to understand him. It was a rare comfort in a world that had become almost unrecognizably strange.