Chapter 32: Visits and Vultures
For the first time since the storm began, the halls of the academy echoed with laughter.
Cyrus announced it just after breakfast:
"A full week of reprieve. No classes. No drills. Pack your bags if you want to visit your families."
A wave of surprise swept the room. Then relief. Then planning.
Some students scrambled to message parents. Others chose to stay behind — for personal reasons or simply because there was nowhere they felt more at home.
But the tension in their spines loosened, if only a little.
It was Cyrus' gift to them. A reward. A shield against burnout.
But I didn't rest.
Instead, I packed a coat.
And flew to Langley.
---
The CIA headquarters doesn't sleep. It paces.
Even at three in the morning, its belly hums with servers, secured corridors, and the hush of men who believe secrets are their birthright. The guards didn't stop me. They couldn't.
By the time the night commander reviewed his monitors, I was already at the top floor, in a shadowed room with glass walls and old war maps lining the ceiling.
The Director was waiting.
Middle-aged, sharp suit, the kind of combed gray hair that suggests both dignity and manipulation. His name was Warren Leigh. He'd asked me for a favor forty years ago — a sealed file, now long buried beneath policy and redactions.
He didn't flinch when I appeared.
"I figured you'd show up eventually," he said. "Especially after what I sent to that school of yours."
"Don't call it mine," I replied, "You'll never understand what it really is."
He folded his hands across a manila folder. "We weren't surveilling the students. Not really. We were surveilling you."
"So send your spies through my kitchen window next time," I said. "Less paperwork."
Leigh chuckled softly. "Tony, we both know you're not like the rest of us. You've been here longer than any of our governments. You've influenced every century. You've seen the rise and fall of kings, companies, and empires."
"And I've outlived them all," I said. "Because I don't get greedy."
He tapped the folder.
"You could help us. Shape the future. Ensure stability. That favor you gave me back then? I want another."
"No," I said flatly.
"You don't even want to know what it is?"
"I know what it is. Power. Control. Ownership of the unknown."
He leaned in. "We're not enemies, Tony. But if you won't join us... we'll find a way to contain you. Or understand you."
I stepped closer. There was no fear in him — but I saw the weight behind his eyes. The years spent cataloging shadows.
"You won't," I said. "Because the more you try, the more you'll lose. You don't study fire by holding it in your hands."
He said nothing.
I turned to leave.
"Wait," he called after me. "What if I call in the debt? From forty years ago?"
I stopped in the doorway.
"You already did," I said. "That sealed file? The one that protected your son? That was your favor. That was the price. You don't get two."
His expression twisted, the mask slipping.
"I'm not done with you," he said.
"I know," I replied. "That's the difference between us. You think this is a game of survival. I already won. Five thousand years ago."
And then I vanished into the dark.
To be continued in Chapter 33.