Chapter 212: The New Government.
"We’re not here as enemies." Sinn’s voice carried from ahead as the soldiers pushed us forward toward the mission room. "We’re here to work with anyone willing to work with us. For these walls. For everything beyond them."
I walked beside Sherry, four soldiers close at our backs, their boots echoing heavily down the sterile corridor. The harsh overhead lights buzzed faintly, casting long, stark shadows that stretched ahead of us.
"Move, bitch." One of them hissed from behind, close enough that I felt the hot breath of the word on the back of my neck.
I stopped dead and turned sharply. Small eyes. Thin mustache. Gun raised, the posture of someone handed authority five minutes ago and already drunk on it. My jaw tightened, fists clenching at my sides.
"Don’t talk to her like—"
"Walk, cunt." He cut me off flat, jabbing the barrel forward an inch.
Not now, I told myself, forcing my hands to relax. Not here. My pulse hammered in my temples as I turned back around.
We reached the mission room. The space was packed tight, CGI staff crammed wherever they could fit—chairs taken, people sitting on the floor, shoulders pressed together under the bright, unforgiving overhead lights. The air felt thick, warm with too many bodies and too much fear. Sinn stood at the front, mid-sentence. He paused when we entered, just a single beat, eyes flicking over us, then continued speaking. I found a spot on the floor next to Sherry, our backs against the cool wall. She leaned into me slightly, her shoulder trembling against mine.
My eyes moved through the room, scanning faces. No sign of Mary Stam. She was already gone, dissolved back into whatever shadow came next for a ghost between contracts.
"Nobody in this room is a prisoner," Sinn said. His voice carried that measured calm he used when he wanted people to actually listen. "You can walk out that door right now if you want. Or you can stay and be part of something real. Your call."
The room gave him nothing back. No movement. No voices. Just heavy, distrustful silence broken only by the occasional shuffle of feet and nervous breathing.
He looked around once, reading the tension in the air, then nodded to himself, jaw set.
"I’m General Sinn," he said. "New head of government." He started toward the door, a soldier already stepping forward to fill the space he was leaving. He stopped at the frame and looked directly at me, eyes steady.
"A word, Abram."
I leaned close to Sherry, my hand brushing her arm. "One minute."
"The revolutionary government begins now," the soldier at the front announced as I stood. "CGI is finished."
I walked out. Sinn stood in the corridor, two of his soldiers falling in behind me without being told. He glanced at them over my shoulder.
"Give us room," he said. Not loud. Just certain. "He’s fine."
They stepped back. I came up to him, shoulders tight.
"Walk with me," he said, and moved down the corridor with easy authority, boots ringing against the polished floor.
I followed, the building settling into an uneasy new quiet around us. The familiar hum of operations was gone, replaced by the distant wail of alarms and the low murmur of occupied rooms.
What do you want from me, I thought, watching the way he moved—confident, unhurried. And how much of this is actually yours.
"Abram." Sinn’s voice was unhurried as I caught up with him. "You expected this."
"Yeah," I said, matching his stride.
We walked the corridor side by side, neither of us rushing. The building had changed hands, but it still hadn’t settled into its new shape. Echoes of boots and distant orders drifted through the halls like ghosts refusing to leave. Fluorescent lights flickered once overhead, casting shifting shadows across the walls.
"Then you know what I want to talk about," he said.
"You want me in your government."
"No." He turned sharply into the reception room and pulled up a chair, settling into it with a soft creak of leather. Elbows planted on his knees, he gestured at the seat across from him. "Please."
I sat, the cool metal frame pressing against my back.
The reception room was empty, its overhead lights casting a sterile, bluish glow over polished tables and vacant couches. Outside the double doors, I could hear the low shuffle of soldiers taking positions, the quiet reorganization of a building being claimed. The fall of CGI. The job, the badge, the gold card—everything that had been holding me captive since the gate—was dissolving in a single night.
"I’m here to give you a reason to join me," Sinn said.
"Go ahead."
He looked straight at me, eyes steady and intense. "The infection heals outside the walls, Abram." He said it with the quiet satisfaction of someone delivering news he believed would change everything. "People can come back from it. What we saw out there in the Fallen City—that girl, what she was becoming. That’s not an exception."
I held his gaze, jaw tight, one thumb unconsciously rubbing against the side of my index finger.
"And how does that pull me into your government?" I asked.
"Because you care," he said, with the simple certainty of someone who had watched me closely on the Fallen City mission. "I saw it out there. You connect with people. You fight for them. This is a chance to extend that beyond the walls, not just for a handful of us but for everyone."
I studied him. He was genuine. That was the most dangerous thing about this meeting, he was already convinced.
"We’re ending the ability extraction," he continued, leaning forward slightly. "No more burning people out for the life layer. And we’re going further than that. We’re going to turn every person inside these walls into an ability user. When that happens, we go beyond the walls together. We take the world back."
There it is.
Every ability user inside the walls, multiplied by the thousands who lived here, handed over like vessels to the primordial families who needed exactly that: bodies ready to host the dead. Sinn was describing the Awakening like it was salvation, and he had no idea.
Monica Veyron had built this revolution with one hand and was feeding it to Sinn with the other. The man sitting across from me believed every word.
"But that’s not why I need you specifically, though," Sinn said, pulling me back. His fingers drummed once on his knee.
"Then why?" I didn’t say it out loud. I didn’t have to.
He leaned forward and dropped his voice.
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