They didn't speak when they found it.
The warehouse stood crooked against the night, its walls patched with old metal plates and soot-stained timber, like something that had been repaired too many times and then forgotten anyway. One side had caved in slightly, leaving a gap just wide enough to slip through.
Two went first.
Three followed, ducking under a hanging beam that groaned creak and clonk as if offended by the disturbance.
Inside was stillness, the unused kind, instead of peaceful.
Moonlight fell in pale strips through broken skylights above, catching drifting dust that moved slow and lazy, like it had no reason to hurry anymore. Rusted chains hung from beams, swaying slightly in a breeze that wasn't quite there. The place smelled of oil, damp wood, and something faintly metallic.
"…well," Three muttered, brushing dust off his coat, "this is either shelter or the setting of a very unfortunate ending."
Two didn't answer. He was already scanning the corners, shadows, exits, before finally stepping further in. He settled Eidola on a chair, quiet and watching.
There were crates stacked along one wall. Faded markings, half scratched out by time.
Three wandered over, crouching. "…this one looks promising," he said, wiping grime away with his sleeve. "Unless it contains something that bites."
He squinted.
"FIELD SUPPLY…FRONTLINE RESERVE."
"…that sounds official," he added.
Two joined him, kneeling beside the crate. The lid resisted at first, swollen wood, rusted hinges, but gave way with a reluctant crack.
Inside were folded coats, stiff with age. Bandage rolls yellowed but intact. A few ration tins dented but sealed. And two smaller items. Shoes, child-sized. He looked at each other.
Three blinked. "… well, that's convenient."
Two didn't comment. He picked them up, brushing dust away with his thumb. Checked the soles. Turned them slightly. Still usable.
He brought them to Eidola, kneeling in front of her. She looked down, then back at him.
He didn't say anything but just a small nod. Careful hands. Slower than anything he'd done all day. He slipped the shoes onto her feet, adjusting the straps so they sat just right, not tight, not loose.
Three watched from a few steps away. Didn't interrupt nor joke. Something about that quiet moment… sat differently. "…fits," he said softly.
Two gave a small nod, a smile cracked at the corner of his lips. That was all.
Three turned back to the crate, digging further. "…and, ah." He pulled something out.
A handgun. Dusty and heavy. The metal dulled with age, faint rust creeping along the edges. The wooden stock worn smooth where hands had held it before.
"…this," Three said slowly, holding it up like it might argue back, "is a mistake waiting to happen."
Two reached in and took the second one and checked the chamber, working the bolt, click and clack. It wasn't smooth, but still functional. Just enough for them to protect themselves.
"…they still work," he said.
Three looked at his own, turning it awkwardly.
"…I used to sort potatoes," he muttered. "Stack them, weigh them, argue about their shape with unreasonable customers…"
He held the rifle up, uncertain.
"…and now I'm holding a… what is this, a bangwhistle death-stick?"
Two almost chuckled. "You're holding it wrong."
"Oh, I'm sorry, it doesn't come with an instruction paper, unfortunately," Three scoffed.
Two stepped closer, adjusting his grip, firming it under his hand.
"…keep it steady," Two said. "Don't pull unless you mean it."
Three glanced at him. "…I wish I never have to."
A pause.
Two's gaze switched from his hand to his eyes, "…neither do I." Clearly, both of them were not meant for this, but rather, forced. He took a step back.
They stood there a moment. Both holding rifles, not quite believing it.
"…emergency only," Two said, after a while.
Three nodded. "…emergency only."
…
Night settled in deeper. The warehouse grew colder.
They made a small space near the wall. Cleared debris, set down coats, something close to rest.
Eidola curled slightly where she sat, quiet as always. Her eyes were wide towards the moonlight, blinking ever so softly. Her wiggling feet hinted how comfortable the new shoes were.
Three leaned back against a crate, arms folded. "…this is strange," he murmured.
"…strange how?" Two replied.
"…this," Three gestured vaguely. "All of this. We were arguing about potato prices not long ago. Now we're hiding in a warehouse with guns, talking about being… divided."
Two blinked.
"…I don't think I like that word."
"…neither do I."
A pause.
"…you think they'd really do it?" Three asked. "Just… pick one of us?" He fixed his position to look at Two.
Two didn't answer immediately. His gaze darted to the blank concrete wall. "I will not let that happen."
Three looked away. "…right."
The silence stretched. Long and cold and heavy.
And the silence was poked by a click and crackle. Both of them froze. The bracelet on Three's wrist flickered to life. A faint yellow glow.
"What was that?" Two reacted.
"…oh," Three said. "oh that's... that's Four!"
Static cut in, "Three… Three, come in-…"
The voice broke apart. The connection cut off and on and repeat.
"Four? Do you hear me?" Three tapped the bracelet.
"The Cogbo-… They're comi-… Find-… One…"
Three sat up straighter. "You're cutting off, Four. I can't hear you…"
The connection got completely cut off just before Three finished his sentence.
Three looked at Two then back at the bracelet. "There's no way to have a good connection down here."
Two's shoulders had tightened. Jaw set. But he said nothing but to stare blankly.
"…I'm gonna try to get a good connection tomorrow." Three continued, settling back down.
"…get some rest," Two said. "We move in the morning."
"…right," Three said slowly. "…morning." He repositioned himself, laying sideways, facing the wall.
Two looked at him, then at Eidola, who was curled on the other side of the wall, already drifted to sleep, then his gaze flew to the ceiling, thinking, blinking, slowly drifting as well.
…
Morning came pale and cold. The kind of light that didn't warm anything.
Three climbed up through a side ladder to the roof, metal rungs cold under their hands, each step echoing faintly with clink and clank.
The sky was open widely up top. The wind cut sharper. From there, they could see it in the distance, the Cogbound Legion headquarters.
Smokestacks rising like blackened fingers. A faint glow at its core. Steam venting in slow, steady bursts of chuff and puff.
"Four, come in," Three tapped his bracelet repeatedly. "Four, are you there?"
Two stepped behind him, looking at the view, then at him. "How's it?"
"…The connection keeps cutting off," Three sighed, resting his arms down. "It doesn't matter, we're getting close anyway."
He stepped forward, squinting. "…that's the place, right?" He pointed at the Cogbound Legion headquarters in the fog-veiled distance.
"Yes," Two said.
"…so we bring her there, and then it is done." He turned to Two, looking at him.
Their eyes crossed for a moment, before Two reverted his gaze to somewhere else, anywhere but towards Three.
Three really looked at him this time. At the way he stood. At the way his eyes weren't on the path, but somewhere else entirely. It had finally come to him, long a cluttered workshop of misfitted cogs, at last found its proper alignment.
"…you're not going there, are you?" Three said.
Silence. That was enough of an answer.
"…you said we needed time," Three continued, stepping back slightly.
"We do."
"This isn't time," Three said. "This is something else."
Two stepped forward. "Three, I cannot let them take her."
"They'll help her." Three's brows narrowed.
"You don't know that."
"Neither do you!"
Their voices carried slightly in the open air. The wind took some of it and left the rest.
"So, what…you're just going to run away?" Three's gaze climbed back up to meet his.
"There has to be an answer back at the Replication facility. That's where I'm going."
Three shook his head, just once.
"We disappear after this," Two said.
Three blinked. "…what?"
"We are division. We are an anomaly. The Legion, they will get rid of us."
"…how?"
A pause.
Two didn't look away. "By removing what they don't need, keeping only one."
That hit struck Three hard, but he shook it off. "No. No, that's not…"
"You know this. Why do you think One wanted to return so much?"
"Two, I don't think that's-"
Two cut him off, "you don't. From the very beginning, all you did was follow."
Silence. That one cut deeper than expected.
Three stiffened. "…and you think you're better?"
"I think for myself, maybe you should too… you will understand."
That did it. Three scoffed faintly, his eyes fell to the floor, "You're right…I should," Three pulled the handgun from his coat, raising it in his shaking hand, but steady enough. "…and I think you're wrong."
"…don't." Two stopped. His eyes were on him, but he wasn't afraid. His reached his left hand up, while his other hand reached behind,
"…You're afraid." Three shook his head once. His hands were as trembling as a heating pipe ready to burst.
"So are you," Two took a step back. "So is Eidola. They will terminate her along with us for being the products of the machine."
"Enough!" Three's grip tightened, still shaking, his finger hovering. "You're risking her life for your own cowardness…" And his finger slowly pulled.
"Wait!" Two reached.
BANG! BANG!
The sound cracked through the morning air, echoed through the concrete buildings.
Two shots. One of Two's gun, one of Three's. They looked at each other, just before Three dropped.
He missed his shot just by an inch, ringing Two's left ear.
Two lowered his gun slowly, one breath after another, and each of them were shaky. He couldn't even look at him. He just stepped forward, took the bracelet off Three's wrist, and left him there on the rooftop.
Two climbed downstairs, towards Eidola, who was visibly confused by the loud bangs, with sweet potatoes smeared around her mouth and on her hands that she took from Two's bag. He grabbed his stuff and then her. Her eyes were up to him, but he didn't meet them as he took her hand, but she saw the faint glistening pool under his eyes, now holding her hand to walk instead of carrying her.
"Come, we're leaving," he said, softly.
It was quiet and flat and cold. They walked out of the warehouse, back toward the distant, chuffing silhouette of the Replication facility not far from there.
Two and Eidola.