August 16, 2007:
Agent Lament stood in the mess of Site19, staring out the window and looking at the landscape, part of his mind making an effort to register that the world was, in fact, still there. That everyone was actually alive. That it had happened. His stomach was twisted in pained, difficult knots, and he really just wanted privacy. But he wasn't alone.
He could hear the two men, both low staff, talking across the mess from him. Their voices carried, but he wasn't really paying attention.
"What's that guys problem? He onna them montaukers?"
"Nah," the first one said. "He works with Gears."
The other one laughed quietly. "So? Gears seems like uh good guy."
"Good as any of 'em, ennyway."
"Well, hell, then. I'ma go ask him what his problem is…"
A sound of a slight scuffle somewhere behind Lament brought his attention back to the room. He looked at their reflection in the glass, the taller one holding the other's arm solidly in his grip.
"Don't," the first one said quickly, his voice dropping. "Lesson number one about workin' around these guys: there's some things you don't want on your conscience."