Mikey glares up with wide eyes at Isaak as he declares he has failed phase two. He can hear the muffled shouts of his friends protesting that this test wasn't right and it's all wrong. But he can't make out the voices, his ears ring. Only his thoughts run in his head.
'What... what is happening? Who did the Predecessor mean? What was he talking about? I don't even know if it was real, yeah it might not even be real... but it was different than the other visions. They felt realistic but that whole thing, I could feel it in my soul. If it is real... what does that mean for me? For us? For the future... What girl was he talking about? What package?'
He staggers in Ryosuke arms, his knees weakening.
'My head hurts... my stomach... oh god, I'm gonna—'
Mikey hurls himself to the ground as vomit curls up his windpipe. He pukes on the floor, purple fluid spilling out of his mouth. The diluted linnium. He coughs and fights for breath as the drug bleeds out of his system and the fog begins to clear. Ryosuke steadies him, Tobi on the other side. Ryosuke glances down at him.
"Get some rest young man."
Tobi glacnes at him, making sure not to smell Mikey's breath. "I'm h-here man."
They half-carry, half-drag Mikey toward the waiting room. Bobo looks up at Gerron as he passes, murmuring to Luce and Amelia.
"I'll be back. Wait in the stands. I gotta talk to Gerron."
After a couple minutes Gerron is in his suite looking above the stands of the dome. He sits back, his old eyes thinking. Then he gets a tap on the shoulder from one of his men.
"Sir, someone wishes to speak to you."
Gerron stands up, his black cloak spilling behind him as he boots walk into a room behind the suite. He sees Bobo standing there with his arms crossed. His eyes widen and then narrow with focus.
"Oh, it's you, Presley."
Gerron walks over to table and starts to roll tobacco, his long white hair flows behind him. He rolls it simply, as if not even feeling the immense pressure coming from Bobo.
"Speak, Presley."
Bobo looks at him, glaring.
"Stop the tests... or at least just make them fair. This has been bullshit so far, Gerron."
Gerron is unbothered. He takes of his cloak and sets it down calmly, never looking at Bobo. He rolls up his jacket sleeve and licks his thumb before rolling the paper.
"No."
"Why not?! Why do this?!"
Gerron does not look at him not giving him the respect.
"Is that all?" He say's dismissively. Bobo punches the wall in anger with his metal arm, cracking through it, shouting.
"Listen to me old man! Just... listen. Please stop this..."
Gerron does not even shiver. He continues to roll. "Do you want to know why I spit on your plea? Why I ignore all of your wishes? Because I feel no regret in what I am doing."
He finishes rolling the tobacco and lifts it to his mouth, he takes a match from his pocket and strikes its on the wooden table, lighting it. He lifts the match to the cigar and takes a drag finally looking at Bobo.
"What I am doing is necessary for the safety of our Silo, of our cause."
Bobo shouts. "Yeah the reason is horseshit. So what he was raised in the Council. He has fought for us and saved me and my squad... He's the son of Desmond and Darla Grant for god sake!"
Gerron takes another puff, his cold hazel eyes looking into Bobo's. "We don't know what attachments he has."
"Ryo had the same damn problem! He was born in Hiroki. He was trained by a Director. He slaughtered Defector's with him... took out union states with him... but you accepted him!"
"Saito was different." Gerron response is instant and cold, he takes a puff of smoke, "He hadn't known what he was doing. Plus, Director Kael went on to slaughter his village and his family. That is reason enough."
Bobo bounds toward him, "No! You accepted him because he was strong!" Bobo slaps the cigar out of his might and hauls him up against the wall, holding Gerron like he weighs nothing.
"But I'll tell you this— Mikey is strong too! You see his potential and it scares you... Because when he reaches it, he'll be just as deadly as Ryo but he's not tied to any sense of honor or loyalty like us. He lives by his heart and that scares you because you don't know if you can control him or not!"
Gerron looks down at him, complexity unbothered. "Watch yourself, Presley. That could be considered treason."
Bobo hears the sounds of firearms being raised. He turns his head to see soldiers, Gerron's men holding guns at him, at least ten. Bobo looks at him. "You wouldn't."
"It's true that you and your hit squad—Savior—are vital. You're the ace squad— But I don't mind cleaning house."
Bobo sizes the barrels, the odds. He lets Gerron drop back to the table, lets the old man breathe, and releases his grip. For a beat he looks every which way, then back at Gerron.
"That kid's gonna pass no matter what. And then there's nothing you can do about it. His loyalty is with us. Not you, not the Defectors, but us. And trust me—our patience is wearing thin."
Bobo turns and walks out of the suite, metal arm thudding against the door frame as he leaves.