The morning of day 195, Alfred headed to the armory to meet Egon as planned. He found him setting a dusty supply crate, hunched over with his elbows over his knees.
"You're twenty minutes late." Egon said. "You're never late,".
"Time's weird these days," Alfred replied. brushing off the seat beside him. "How are things going?"
"Terrible, as you know,"
"Anything new from outside?" Alfred asked, sitting down as well.
"It could be good,"
"But is it?"
"Maybe. I do not know. Not for sure,"
"So, those chemists in the closed section... nothing?"
"Nothing useful."
"Any idea how they survived out there?" Alfred asked.
"No. We just know they did." Egon said. "God… I don't even know anymore," Egon said, you could hear the frustration in his voice. "We don't even know if they're still out there. No voices. No signs of life. No signals on the screen. Nothing. We're going into this blind."
Alfred paused. "You figured out a way to get them on board?"
"No. How could I?" Egon said, looking at alfred. "plus, you're the one who made the plan,"
"What plan?" Alfred was genuinely confused.
"We'll use the plan that you're plan from Warshaw,".
"Which one?"
"The one with the resistance force,"
"Still not following,"
"The Da Vinci field,"
"That one! That was a good one," Alfred's voice filled with nostalgia. "That was a good day. Back when there were three of us."
Egon looked down as a little smile formed formed on his face. "Yeah. It was... simpler."
"I still remember the smoke rising off the tanks," Alfred said with a smirk. "You screamed so loud your voice cracked."
"Worked, didn't it?"
There was a short silence before Egon continued. "Strike five days from now, just after the mission announcement."
"your gonna put on a show?"
"Gives you time, doesn't it? to set up. Prepare the scene"
"You sure the shipment even came in? I don't recall hearing anything." Alfred asked.
"It's here. But it's not enough—not for all of them."
Alfred nodded slowly. "So there's no other option."
"I wish there was. But one wrong breach in the walls, one crack, and this whole building turns to graveyard. The farms are holding on by wires and wishful thinking. We're past the tipping point. This isn't a fix. It's a reset."
"A clean start," Alfred said. "Purifying the base."
Egon glanced sideways. "Exactly. We force them to face the world, let the rot clear itself. What's left when we return is what deserves to remain."
"You've been practicing that line, haven't you?"
"I've had time."
"You've been thinking too much, Egon."
Egon smiled faintly. "You don't like me thinking."
"No," Alfred said carefully. "Not when you start sounding like him."
"He may be gone," Egon looked ahead. "but there's nothing wrong with learning from the dead."
"You're sure this'll work?"
"No," Egon said. "But I'm sure not doing it won't."
Alfred looked down at his boots. "You love dramatic justifications."
"We're the only ones strong enough to make these decisions," Egon said, looking at alfred. "You taught me that."
"Did I?"
"Have you changed, Alfred? Has Alfred — the Quiet End — gone soft?"
Alfred stood. "I'm still the man I was the day you met me. I believe in justice."
"And those weak people are not worthy of your justice?" Egon asked.
"Justice has two edges. They get the sharp one. That's all they can afford."
Egon grinned, then got up. "See you later, old friend."
He walked off into the shadows of the corridor.
A moment later, Alfred followed.