Tristan arrives home and watches The Old Guard soldiers file away from The Coalition’s own soldiers almost as soon as they arrived. A beaten, tired feeling permeates the air from most of The Coalition’s soldiers as the crowds make way for them to arrive at the entrance of the Bunker. There, they see Carolyn handing a wounded Jenive to a medical team. Carolyn looks at each of The Coalition’s soldiers, a look of distrust and disappointment in her eyes. It was clear from that one look alone that whatever good will they may have once had, it was long, long gone. One person in particular is singled out, as Carolyn passes by Gabriel, she mutters one word under her breath.
“Traitor.”
Once inside, they are each searched and admitted inside one by one. [He/She] reaches their turn to be debriefed, and starts walking down a few tight, small corridors. They reach the interrogation room from earlier, and... Pass it by. Instead, he reaches an elevator just beyond it, and is taken deeper into the Bunker. Past level 1, past level 2... Wait. Tristan looks at the wall and realizes that they were going deeper than the elevator map’s plans showed. There was no level 5, and yet, here they were. Once they reach the bottom, he see Adrik standing there—arms crossed behind his back. “Come with me.”
Tristan walks with them, down a long, dimly lit hallway. At the end was a single door, leading into a large, dark room. The door was made out of a strange metal. It reflected light, but nothing else. It was certainly not naturally made.
Inside, the area is left in darkness, though a few steps confirmed metal plating underneath his feet. Adrik stays outside and closes the door behind him. A single light hangs from the ceiling, giving just enough light to show a beautiful, ornate wooden desk. Behind it stood a man in a suit, holding an empty wine glass. Behind him, a large monitor, that was attached to a metal pole that stretched out into the darkness. There were hints of hydraulic lines on it—it could possibly be moved. The man’s face is obscured in darkness, though his distinctively smooth voice gives him away. “It’s nice to see you... Perhaps you know of me, perhaps not. I am Ryan Dufont, the council member for this place.”
The monitor lights up suddenly, and the entire room is bathed in a dark blue light. Though it takes a moment for Tristan’s eyes to recover, he is able to discern that the room is circular in construction. All around are a myriad of sensors and drones—machines serving various purposes, here and there—technologies that, even for advanced Pilots, were borderline incomprehensible. “I think it is time that your trust in our rational ways was rewarded... I think it is time for you to learn some truths. We already know what all of you have done—we were watching, from above. What I am about to tell you is classified to the highest degree. If you don’t approve of this, leave, now. The door is unlocked. If you stay, understand that if you tell anyone what you have learned here today? The empty shell we leave behind that may have once held your will and mind will say whatever we want it to... There are some fates worse than death. Understand?”
