Sergio looked over again to the glow of the supply room, wondering if anyone was still there at this hour. Of course there probably was someone on watch at all hours somewhere, but he remembered what the blonde man had said about being anonymous, so they couldn’t be anticipating anyone coming down the tunnel that they didn’t invite. This station seemed eerily absent of mutants or rats, although initially Sergio had been comforted by the relative cleanliness he also recalled what Bourbon had said long ago about the absence of even rats from an area. It was usually a sign that something more sinister was lurking about.
Lost in his thoughts, he found himself walking to the corner of the platform. Stopping himself at the top of the metal stairway that led down beside the tracks, he held his body tense. He remained as still and silent as he could possibly manage, hoping to hear a voice or a sign that someone was inside the supply room. There seemed to be no sign of the brothers or Marco, and yet the light was still on. He stirred himself, willing his feet to descend the steps slowly, quietly. Creeping up towards the doorway he pressed himself against the concrete wall and listened again. There was no talking, no footsteps or shuffling, but there was a faint sound echoing back at him. It sounded like someone was crying, it didn’t take him long to figure out who.
He took a deep breath and looked back at the station, wanting to make himself turn back, but he couldn’t make his feet turn around. He couldn’t ignore the fact that she had been upset by the news that he had brought to her and he was still uncertain of her exact involvement with Sacco. But he felt responsible, too responsible to turn away. It didn’t seem like anyone was with her inside, so perhaps this was his chance to find out what he wanted to know when she wasn’t pressured to stay strong in front of her comrades. Swallowing a mouthful of saliva, he set his foot inside the doorway. Slowly inching forward, he stopped again before the opening to the room. He looked to the left, where the room was shallow, and saw nothing, so he very carefully leaned inside and looked to the right. There she sat facing the back wall, her head in her hands and strands of hair covering her face. She sobbed forcefully, covering her mouth to muffle the sound of her sharp breathing.
Stepping fully into the room he knew he needed to make himself known somehow, but quietly, so as not to startle her or incite anger for his intrusion. He made his next step more forceful, making sure the heel of his boot hit the concrete hard enough to make a noise.
Sara gasped and looked up at him with such fear and guilt that Sergio had to look away. She immediately started wiping her face with her sleeve, straightening her hair with the other hand.
“I’m sorry.” Sergio squeaked, holding his hands out as if to show he was unarmed.
“No, no. This has nothing to do with-” She stopped herself short, attempting to get a hold of herself.
There was a long moment of silence, during which Sergio was sure she would turn spiteful and tell him to leave the room. Yet, she remained seated and staring at the floor.
“Would you like to sit?” She gestured to a chair adjacent to her.
Sergio said nothing, but hesitantly went to sit down. He silently cursed himself for not turning around when he had the chance. It was hard for him to admit that he was more apprehensive of this woman’s emotions than any battle he had ever faced; knowing for sure that her reactions were somehow his responsibility. He looked her over for a moment; she had discarded some of her armor pieces and simply wore her grey fatigues, scarf, vest, and boots. She began to look up at him and he turned his gaze to the side, hoping she hadn’t noticed him staring.
“What station are you from, Sergio?” She spoke quietly, watching his face and probably searching for eye contact. After a minute had passed and he hadn’t answered her, she spoke again. “I used to live at Tverskaya… or should I say ‘Darwin’ station.”
“You lived in Realm?” Sergio was surprised, and looked back at her without even remembering that he had been trying to avoid her gaze. Her face was gentle and pink, irritated from her tears, but it made her look so striking. There was nothing more honest than staring into her eyes in this moment, as she was unable to hide anything from him.
“I lived there with my mother, we were in Chekhovskaya at first but then after a few years they made that mostly for military, so Tverskaya was for families.” Marco pressed her hands between her knees, seeming somewhat uncomfortable, but bit her lip and then attempted to smile. “Was.”
“What happened there?” Sergio ventured, genuinely curious. Not particularly in her story, but more about Realm as a whole.
“You tell me first.” Her expression flattened. He had almost forgotten that she had started this conversation with a question.
“I’m from Exhibition. The underground radio station.” Sergio paused, not knowing if she would have known where or what that was. “Where they make the good tea.”
“You are a long way from home, then.” She eyed him with a heavy dose of suspicion.
“No one is there anymore, I don’t think.” His shoulders fell slack in synch with the sinking in his heart at the thought.
“Because of your Dark Ones.” She had probably meant it as a question, but her tone gave the impression that she knew something about it. Whether she had meant to implicate him somehow or just to speak of known facts was unclear to him.
“All of it is my fault.” Sergio whispered, barely audible. Here he had come to investigate the sound of her sorrow and he was beginning to wallow in his own.
Marco looked up at him somewhat with pity and somewhat with disbelief, her hand lifted as if to get his attention but then it fell back to her lap. She was biting at her lip again, attempting to decide whether to console him or to continue the conversation. Letting out another breath, she straightened in her chair and looked directly at him.
“What you don’t know, what hardly anybody knows, is that the Führer is strict about mutations because he was one of the first to experience it.” Apparently she had decided to continue the other part of her story without provocation, Sergio was thankful for the change of subject. “His wife was pregnant when this madness began, and she gave birth to a mutated child. From then on he was increasingly paranoid, even perfectly normal people are abominations in his eyes for some reason or another. Even tiny children who don’t know anything… and then the parents get blamed too.”
Sergio watched her eyes as she talked, even though she wasn’t looking at him now. There was a resentful longing in the bluish steel color, tears gathered and then waned without falling – as if she had shed enough of them in memory of her past, having to relive it so many times that all that was left was anger. Who knows what she had witnessed in her years; she seemed to be about the same age as him, and he had seen more than enough of pain and death to last a lifetime.
“He was so terrified that it had come from his genes and he was in such denial. Even now he keeps them hidden away from everyone so he can continue enforcing his ridiculous laws. Hypocrite.” Sara growled in shame of the Realm’s leader and as she shook her head and placed it in her hands the brass pendant around her neck came loose from her vest and swung on its black string.
“The cartridge.” Sergio pointed his finger at it without moving his whole arm. “Sacco gave that to you?”
Sara locked eyes with him and they expressed distrust and fear. Tucking the cartridge back into her scarf, she very slowly nodded her head as an affirmative.
“How did you meet him?” Sergio asked forcefully, unable to contain his curiosity any longer. He convinced himself to smooth his expression, trying to convey to her that he wasn’t going to hurt her or make any movement so that she would answer him.