Well you may throw your rock and hide your hand

[evowhisperer]

Providence headquarters is like a spaceship: white metal walls, white floors, with parched air circulating through the vents in a never ending sigh... Everything is straight lines and automated, right down to the doors that hiss open at a touch.

It's lifeless. Whoever built it designed it with efficiency in mind, not comfort.

There wasn't much Caesar could do about this when he first settled into the lab, but he can leave the lights on at about a half-light, one much gentler on the eyes. Computer stations around the room cast shadows behind them. A hulking beast of machinery occupies the entire back wall, and its deeper hum undercuts the ventilation like breathing from some hidden, waiting creature. The room smells of stale coffee. He's been in here a while.

It takes the doors hissing open to finally draw him from his concentration at one of these stations. "Right through here, sir," says the agent outside. Caesar blinks owlishly, looking around as though noticing the place for the first time.

There's no one else in the lab right now. Did everyone go to lunch? ... Or dinner? Caesar glances. No, it's past that time. Everyone should be asleep. He picks up his mug of coffee, finds it empty, then puts it back down. The door closes behind whoever it is, and Caesar turns.

"Good evening. I'm Dr Salazar." He's a bit rumpled to be the head of the lab, but hell, he's also a bit young, too. Whoever it is will have to deal.

Comments

[wolfofdunwall]

It's just a contract, the same as any other.

The client may be one of the most (in truth, might be the most) prestigious he’s had, but they want the same thing as anybody: blood, and an end to some inconsequential problem. As for the target, to Daud’s mind he’s nothing special. Young or old, fighter or peacekeeper, a mark is a mark, and they’re all equal in Daud’s eyes.

Dressed in red and black, jacket pristine, gloves fit snugly to his hands, he keeps his head high and walks as if this were his domain. The sterility of the place makes his skin crawl, but he’ll be out of here soon enough; only one contact left to see. Then he can grab Billie and they’ll be on their way back to headquarters, working the new information into their plans.

Scientists are an odd bunch, as far as Daud’s found. Maybe half of these people never see the light of day. Could be they don’t know there’s a life beyond these walls. Still, he doesn’t doubt that there are people here who recognize him: the scar down the right side of his face is a giveaway on its own, known through tales and circulated images, news stories. He doesn’t mind. Has never hidden his face, nor bothered to hide who he is. His name means something, and he sees no reason to shy from that.

(What he minds, vaguely, is the ones who stare at him as if he’s some kind of specimen. As if they know something he doesn’t. They’ve got no business looking at him like that, and it’s always an effort not to snap at them, tell them to mind their own damn business.)

Time to wrap this up. Passing through the doorway, he narrows his eyes at the scientist, young and looking as if he’s been busy making the room his home. This must be the head of the lab. Caesar Salazar.

His contact here - a woman called Black Knight - hadn’t said much about the man, but Daud’s done his research, knows as much as he needs to. Knows he’s the brother of the mark, and doesn’t much care. It isn’t any of Daud’s affair. All that he requires from this man is the device; his being a brother means relatively little (unless he should develop a taste for vengeance, in which case Daud’s assassins will need to keep an eye on him).

He gives himself another moment of steadily taking in the man - boy, really - before speaking. “I believe you have something for me.”

[evowhisperer]

Something for...? Caesar blinks, thinking wistfully of coffee that isn't there. Would it have killed the man to be more specific? A name might have helped. Caesar can recognize a lot of things about the man, but he's been too selective in his reading material to know his face. As far as he's concerned, the world outside won't exist again until his work is done.

A scar over his right eye. His body is honed like a weapon. He's not in Providence uniform, so he's probably a contractor. Something about his stance reminds Caesar of one of Rex's guardians, living a life full of guns and danger, and the association isn't all positive.

'I guess killing your brother wouldn't be a step forward?'

Agent Six. Rex, Dr Holiday, and their 'secret' facility with its stolen security system plans. "The modular nanointerference transponder," he says, snapping his fingers. "One moment." He turns and walks to a table half hidden in shadows, returning with a small object. It looks a little like a garage door clicker.

"Here," he says, holding it out. "This will temporarily blot out all stray nanite transmissions that a security system could scan for. Press it against your arm here, and stand still while I calibrate it." He produces a cellphone and starts tapping away.

[wolfofdunwall]

He holds the device between two fingers, eyeing it with something between caution and disgust, looking as if he might let it plummet to the floor at any moment.

This is what he dislikes about scientists: their specialized babble, and their fanaticism for tests. It’s what he hates, or part of what he's always hated about the Outsider, with all of his observations and check-ins (followed, yes, by the years of unbroken silence, though fuck knows he’s probably still watching, somehow monitoring Daud’s movements). The overwhelming sense of continual experimentation, toying with bodies as though they had the power to play god.

It could be that what the boy is asking is harmless, perhaps even helpful. But Daud hadn't been informed of it, nor had he consented, and he has no desire to unknowingly put himself in anyone else’s hands. If the client expects him to submit to testing without an explanation, they have another thing coming.

However innocuous an act may seem, he's been trained to see its potential dangers. Partly he tells himself Providence wouldn't dare try anything injurious. Not to him, not knowing what he and his people can do. Partly he knows that all organizations are capable of such foolery, believing themselves too powerful to be opposed.

So Daud gives the boy a hard look, clearly displeased. “What is this.

“Explain to me what you're doing.”

[evowhisperer]

Caesar lowers the cellphone, holding it with both hands. They aren't unreasonable questions, if a bit simple. That's fine: he's had more than enough experience dumbing things down, though people usually let him get a lot further before it occurs to them to ask.

"This is a security nanotransponder." He gestures at the device, eyes flicking back to search for understanding. None? "It broadcasts a cloud of interfering radio noise to decay the microsignals that nanites give naturally. It won't protect you from being spotted on camera, but I'm sure you have your own methods for handling that."

Caesar works with people who would be offended if he went any further. He pauses here, surveying the man carefully.

[wolfofdunwall]

Better, at least. And it makes sense enough. Daud tightens his hold on the device, though the disgust doesn’t leave his face.

He’s heard of nanotransponders on a few occasions - and Thomas has been developing a fascination with them - but never had the occasion to use one. Could be they’d have proven useful with past jobs, but this is the first time it’s been necessary. The first time he’s had access to the technology.

That the technology should be required at all says something about this job. Providence truly wants their target out of the picture. Enough so that they’re willing to let Daud enter the base and speak with one of their top-ranked officials. Enough that they’d come to him, hired the very best.

He doesn't like the way the boy is watching him, and Daud keeps his eyes hard, stelled with an edge of warning. “And there are no other effects to be concerned about.”

[evowhisperer]

"None," Caesar, just this side of pacifying. Then he pauses, and amends, "None unless you're anticipating coming into physical contact with their sensors, but those are on the ceiling, so that should be highly unlikely."

There's about a dozen other things that could go wrong, but Caesar's work is pretty good, and he's confident they won't. He has an unfair advantage: he's already been to the base in question, and he knows for a fact that the device works. If it hadn't, he wouldn't have gotten far at all.

There's a part of him that feels guilty for helping Providence ruin his little brother's latest home. It suits the greater good, and he knows that if his brother knew everything, then he'd forgive Caesar with time, but he still feels their late parents' judgment like a stifling blanket. It's not as bad as it's going to look. They'll get raided. There will be fighting, Rex will smack people around with his nanite-plated fists, and then they'll be captured. And then... Step by step, he knows what Black Knight's been planning. She hasn't exactly been subtle.

He can work with it. It's risky, but the payoff would mean winning the world.

First he has to make sure the raid goes through. It shouldn't require much more on his part; as suspicious as this man is, he seems at least mostly reasonable.

"That explains what this is." Caesar nodds to the device. "All I have left to do now is enter a scan of your baseline frequencies to sets its overall bandwidth. Then it will be able to cloak you specifically without creating a conspicuous black hole in their readings."

There. That sounds reasonable, doesn't it?

[wolfofdunwall]

It does sound reasonable. He still doesn’t like it - won’t like it until he can think the information through at length - but at least it’s clearer.

“The sensors. That strikes me as necessary information. I’d try not leaving anything else out, unless your aim is to get me killed.” Suggesting that Daud expects any unshared information to be brought into the open right here and now. Suggesting he doesn’t believe everything’s been said.

He doesn’t like the boy - doesn’t bother hiding it - but then Daud doesn’t like most anyone he’s forced to interact with. In truth, he barely notices Caesar as a person, thinks of him as an object of observation, a scientist, a requisite step in this entire process, the brother of the mark. He watches for warning signs and traits that may prove useful to remember; pieces of information more than parts of a living being.

“I take it this nanotransponder won’t work for anyone else.” It’s a pain if it’s true, but not an insurmountable one. The early drafts of the assassination’s scheme have all involved at least Lurk entering the house with Daud. If need be, though, Daud’s happy to take on the task alone. It might even prove a productive challenge.

[evowhisperer]

Caesar looks down at Daud's first words, and looks up by his second. It's just enough to see what expression he'd tried to hide: exasperation. Something about 'not getting him killed' has stricken him as highly, highly improbable, and he's reluctant to share what it is.

Of course he would be. Calling people an idiot isn't polite at all, and Caesar can already sense the hostility brewing between them. It's not one sided, because this man is dislikeable, but here's no need to throw oil on those flames when all of his side of the conversation thus far has been about trying to tone them down.

Instead he nods schools his face into something smooth. "It could, but not as well." Caesar folds his arms. "It also won't work for more than one at a time as it is. With your permission, I could adjust its range and expand it to include a more general frequency range at a larger distance."

It's a chore, and finicky enough that some might have preferred to just build entire new devices, but that would have taken time, and Caesar is where he is because he can do the unconventional and make things work.

[wolfofdunwall]

He catches the exasperation, files it away as further evidence of the boy’s disagreeability, though Caesar does a fair job of clearing his expression. Daud doesn’t bat an eye. Let the boy be exasperated; Daud intends to receive all of the information he requires, even if it means pulling teeth.

That’s potentially good news on the nanotransponder, but he won’t decide anything until he knows more. While it’d be best to have Billie along, if that means compromising stealth, she may need to join the others outside. No use putting both of them in needless danger. She might not be happy about it, but she'd understand the reasons; she's a good kid, and one hell of a savvy assassin.

“‘Not as well’ meaning what, exactly?”

[evowhisperer]

Caesar spreads his hands disarmingly. "It means that what would make you invisible to that system wouldn't make others equally as invisible. There's the slight chance that they'd register as an anomaly that could draw attention, which would be counterproductive."

Most Providence agents don't bring questions like these to him. 'Stand there. Follow the procedure cards. Hold still. Call if you have any troubles.' They follow instructions, trusting in Providence's science department as the leading forerunners of nanite research that they are. When they do have questions, they're about how things work, not how they don't. Questions come later, when there's actually things to ask about.

It'd be nice that someone was taking an interest if his disdain weren't so clear. There's nothing positive about that cold gaze.

[wolfofdunwall]

It’s a problem, then.

Daud’s always taken care in his planning, and years of living as an assassin have only made him more cautious. He knows the necessity of investigating both the use and shortcomings of any equipment or plan he employs. Knows the need in preparing for what might go wrong. And he’s deeply familiar with the rush of improvisation, those acts and moments that can’t be planned for, but can be better managed with solid preparation.

Some risks are worth taking. The potential flaws don’t amount to much or the benefits are worth the trouble. This, though? Lurk will have to swallow the disappointment. Daud’s confidant that he can do the job alone. If something goes horribly awry, he can always call her and the others to his side.

“Yes. It would be.” Head cocked, he takes a moment to think it through again, just to be certain of his decision.

“And there’s nothing to be done for that.” Spoken with just enough of an edge to suggest that really, really there ought to be something, and isn’t that the boy’s job?

[evowhisperer]

"Hmmm." The condescension is burning through Caesar's patience like a spark through a fuse. For a moment Caesar fantasizes about telling him no, relishing the consternation on his imagined expression and spewing mental lie after lie about how unfortunate it was that any alternative would take weeks.

It would be unprofessional to actually do it, and Caesar needs this raid to go as perfectly as it can, but it's a nice thought while it lasts.

"There is one option." Could they do this? Of course they could, but it would all be in the details... "If you scan the nanofrequency signatures of whoever it is you need to cloak, I could incorporate them remotely through an additional module."

[wolfofdunwall]

Better.

He cares precisely nothing about the boy’s patience, his feelings, his time, or his fantasies; all that matters to Daud is making certain he leaves this place with the best tools for the mission.

If he’s impressed or pleased by the suggestion, he doesn’t show it. This boy is supposed to be good at what he does; it’s his job, and he’d damned well better do it right. So Daud lifts his eyebrows just slightly, looking Caesar over.

“You’re sure you can do this?”

[evowhisperer]

"I'm positive." Really, who does he think Caesar is? "Wait here a moment." It's not a request.

The table Caesar visited earlier hasn't gone anywhere, and Caesar spends a few seconds sorting through its odds and ends. Then he stays there, bent over his phone and a couple of things that he picks up and puts down. There is silence in the lab. He doesn't mutter while he works, and programming is not a loud craft.

It's not long before he's walking back, carrying what looks like a tricorder and a second, smaller device. (Not a bad job, for something done on such short notice.) When he's close he taps on one of the buttons on the latter, and the device Daud is holding gives a satisfying trill in answer. Good.

"Should I show you how to use these now, or should I give you my card to pass on to your lead tech analyst later?"

[wolfofdunwall]

It doesn’t take as long as Daud might have expected, and he could almost - almost, if he cared to - believe the boy half knows what he’s doing.

His answer is prompt, certain. “Show me.“ After all, he’ll be the primary user of the device. (Devices?) And while Daud might not be the most tech savvy individual, once shown how to operate a mechanism, he won’t readily forget. Especially if he knows the reasons for its working. Especially if he knows its potential for flaws.

Might be useful to have Billie in here but, well, the client had been reluctant to let anyone else through the doors. She’ll just have to hear everything second-hand; it won’t be a problem.

“I’ll take the card before I go.” He looks from the device in his hand to the two in Caesar's, waiting for the explanation.

[evowhisperer]

Caesar nods. The explanation comes without needing to stop and think about phrasing: as far this man could know, Caesar's probably explained how to use odd things he's built a thousand times.

"The nanotransponder's settings are programmed through an encrypted uplink to whatever system has the right access codes. In this case, that would be my system." He waves his cellphone slightly. "Its communication range isn't meant for long distances. That's where the signal booster comes in." He passes other two items back and forth until he can lift Device #2 alone. "This can serve as a sort of intermediary. Through it the nanotransponder's local range can connect to a Providence satellite, bouncing the signal and receiving signals from wherever I am. This only," he adds, "works so long as the booster is on." He rotates the booster, allowing the glimpse of an almost invisible 'on/off' switch in back.

"The deep nanite scanner works much the same way." He juggles things back and forth again, this time lifting the 'tricorder'. "Its local range also isn't built for remote communication, but I've already programmed it to connect to the booster's area network. You will need to run a scan of whoever you plan to include using this--" he lifts the scanner. "--then send the scanned readings on to me. I will take those readings and translate them into a frequency output that the nanotransponder can use, then send the program back for it to actually broadcast."

"You won't need the signal booster or scanner once you're done. Leaving them on would be unnecessary, and at worst draw attention."

Now he lowers the lot. "Would you like to go through the procedure using my or your readings?" Not that Caesar's readings need to be added. If anything he needs to erase them, considering they're already entered.

[wolfofdunwall]

All right. It’s more information than he’d anticipated. The basic points - including the general purposes of each device - are clear enough, and he expects the rest will become clearer. Still, a part of him wonders whether the boy enjoys engaging in his near-nonsense speak, or whether he’s simply lived so long with a head in a lab he doesn’t know how to communicate like a human being (as if Daud’s ever been the best with graceful communication).

The question gives him pause. As far as Daud understands, the boy will be seeing his readings one way or another. Whatever that means, whatever that might expose. He doesn’t like the idea; has never liked the thought of anyone prying into him, especially not after the Outsider’s work, especially not when Daud couldn’t say how that work might have altered him or whether the work might be reading these, yes, these readings.

Still. Better to be here when the readings go through. Better to be able to judge if the boy sees anything amiss.

“Mine. We’ll do yours after if I need it.”

After another half-moment he speaks again, voice level. “What do these readings tell you?”

[evowhisperer]

"Not a lot." If it's possible for someone to shrug without actually doing so, then he does so now. "Without going into finer nanite control theory, all it is is a radio-signature of sorts. Imagine that it's like DNA." He taps at his cellphone screen one-handed while he talks. "Each person has a unique sequence, but it's too complex to be worth the effort of combing through it for more than a general acknowledgement of existence."

He turns the cellphone around. "This is an example comparison of two human composite waveforms." It's like looking at a visual repressentation of sound, one squiggly line over the other.

He turns it back when he thinks the man has had enough time to take it in, putting his hands (and their contents) together.

"Shall we start?"

[wolfofdunwall]

Nanite control theory? It reminds him of something Thomas had been chattering about the other day. Might be worth sitting the assassin down for a talk, seeing what he knows and whether there’s anything worth reading on the subject.

Assuming Caesar’s telling the truth, there seems little risk in moving forward. Still, he gives the boy another searching, look before assenting. A final warning before they begin.

“Yes.”

Much as he doesn’t care for the boy, Daud will observe carefully, asking for (perhaps more like demanding) elaboration when needed, following whatever instructions may be given (well… within reason, and so long as they don’t offend Daud’s pride). He has no desire to drag this on longer than necessary, nor does he intend to be short-changed on the demonstration.

[evowhisperer]

He hasn't been the object of so many searching looks since his last thesis dissertation. Apparently the ordeal really was practice for later life, because the looks don't stop once they begin the procedure. Caesar pretends not to notice them.

He adds nothing and leaves nothing out. Except... he goes silent for a few unnarrated taps on his cellphone. If pressed he'll say 'I'm clearing the preexisting database for the new settings," without looking up, but otherwise tries not to dwell on it. With any luck, this man won't notice him erasing his own signature data if Caesar makes it unimportant.

All in all, it's a short procedure.

"I don't have a way to demonstrate this in action without coordinating with this base's security department, but I can guarantee you that it works."

By this time he's handed all three devices to the man to keep, leaving Caesar with a free hand to produce a crisp business card. It doesn't say much; it's a generic print that has his name, contact information, and a vague name for his position.

"If you find any problems, I'm available at just about any hour."

[wolfofdunwall]

He does press for explanation, but accepts the line about a preexisting database. It sounds likely enough, and though there's a slight, almost minuscule something in the boy's face that suggests there may possibly be something left unspoken, it isn't enough to pursue, and Daud suspects it doesn't matter. Some secrets aren't worth the energy or time they'd take to uncover.

He moves the devices to his pockets, taking care in their placement, taking in the rest of the boy's words.

"I'll keep that in mind." Spoken in an offhand tone, as if he hardly heard and doesn't care. Mostly, Daud doesn't expect they'll need the boy's input beyond attaching Billie's readings to the nanotransponder. If they do, fine, he has the number and they'll be in touch.

"And I'll keep your guarantee in mind, Caesar." The edge of warning's back in his voice, this time cutting sharper, a promise that he'll remember precisely who gave him this device in the event of a mishap or minor disaster. That he's not a man to forget, nor to forgive.

[evowhisperer]

"Of course."

Perhaps it's how recently he's just had to cover his own tracks, or perhaps the man's tone is finally cutting enough that it pierces through Caesar's thick exterior of confidence. Whatever the case, all of Caesar's failures take a moment to fly through his mind in fleeting montage of disaster and calamity. What would this man do if something did go wrong? ... What would happen to Caesar's cause if he died, and no one was left to pick up where he left off?

Outwardly he just smiles, hoping none of his thoughts show in his expression. Providence needs him. They need him too much to let some self-important thug kill him before he's done, and even if their protection fails, Caesar is no slouch. He can protect himself if he needs to.

He made a good nanotransponder. He's not going to need to.

"Will that be all?"

[wolfofdunwall]

Daud doesn't bother reading the boy's expression; it's no concern of his how Caesar takes the warning, so long as the warning's been issued. Nor is he concerned with how extensively Providence would protect this boy if something happen. He could get past the whole damned building and all its defenses, if he needed to. Nothing's ever stopped him before.

"Unless there's anything you've forgotten."

He raises his eyebrows in a subtle gesture, waits for the boy to admit that he has nothing left or that yes, in fact, he'd forgotten something. Should that be all, he'll see himself out or - if necessary - wait for the boy to open the door. Then he'll leave the facility behind as quickly as possible, glad to be away from this mausoleum, heading back to headquarters with Billie.

[evowhisperer]

Caesar shakes his head, and that's that. He walks the man part of the way to the door, which hisses open at their approach. They don't say goodbye.

One of the guards outside the room detaches himself from the door when the man exits, escorting him off to his next destination. Caesar turns away as the doors slide closed, looking around the lab. There's always something to do. What's next?

... Coffee. Coffee's what's next.

-----

Days pass before the news trickles in, and when it does the days are hell.

Rex is dead.

Rex is dead, and Caesar can barely breath. It's not the first time his brother has disappeared from his life, but at least then there'd been the faint hopes of survival. This time there is a corpse. This time there is a cold, impersonal burial, one Caesar is hardly worthy to attend, knowing none of Rex's real loved ones were able to be there. Caesar had a place as Rex's family, sure, but Rex had amnesia. How much was blood really worth without memories to give it meaning? How much value had Caesar given it when he wasted the last few months of Rex's life abandoning him? What would his parents think if they were alive?

They'd be ashamed, probably. He'll never know for sure, because they're dead too, also by an accident Caesar helped instigate.

This is just what he does. Is he doomed to repeat mistakes like this with the project of his parents' life's work? There's no such thing as destiny, but his track record speaks for itself, and at this point Caesar can't help but wonder if he shouldn't just back out and let someone else save humanity.

... God help him, he can't. Work is all he has left, now, and he's clutching it like a line thrown to a drowning man. Even worse than that, though, is that there's no one else who can do what needs to be done. It has to be the original nanite team. It has to be someone who can navigate the treacherous waters of Providence's office politics.

It has to be him.

Time passes, and Caesar eventually resumes work with an almost feverish intensity. If all he can think about is work, then he doesn't have to think about the crushing loneliness of being the last of the Salazars left alive. One particular night finds him alone in the office again, sitting at a computer station with a screen riddled with red-marked code. He's smokey-eyed and wearing yesterday's clothes, but there's no one else there to care, and Caesar certainly doesn't. He'll finish debugging this code and move on to the next, assuming he doesn't fall asleep at his station before them.

The room is silent. It smells of coffee, old cafeteria food, and grief.

[wolfofdunwall]

He isn't falling apart.

It's what he tells himself every day, what he's finding harder and harder to believes. He puts on a fair front, but there's no hiding it from all of his Whalers, no hiding it from Billie. It's in his uncustomary hesitations, the way he puts off signing off on contracts and answering the calls - Christ, how those people call - from Providence. It's in the way his sleep is even more broken than usual, so that he counts himself lucky for nights he even sleeps at all.

It was that job. That job and that damned kid. Daud's seen innocent people die before. Has slicked his blade across their throats without batting an eye. This, though... He'd looked into the kid's eyes and seen something more than innocence, something like hope and possibility. Which sounded ridiculous, but it felt right, felt like there was something of worth in this kid. And Daud had known. As he'd performed that action, Daud had known he'd regret this for the rest of his life. He'd erred gravely.

It didn't help that Billie hadn't seemed the same, either, asking more and more questions and watching him almost too closely, refusing to give him and moment's peace and tailing him almost as if he were a mark. Maybe it was nothing; maybe it was only his weariness and increasing disconcertion speaking. But she'd been there, too. What had she seen?

On top of everything else, there was the Outsider.

Daud had been standing atop a building far from headquarters, seeking space to breathe and a moment away from everyone - and everything - else, when time froze around him and an all-too-familiar voice spoke up: "I've been watching."

That bastard. Strolling in as if he hadn't been absent for years now. As if Daud ought to be pleased, even grateful to see him. Telling Daud he'd become interesting again and asking about guilt, asking about mercy and falling apart. Then offering a single phrase - dominion code - and claiming it meant something. Claiming there was good reason to pursue to action, that it might even make some small amends. "Not much, but isn't that worth it, Daud? Isn't it worth your time to beat back the nightmares that freeze your blood and stifle the guilt that threatens to consume you? There are so many choices to be made; let's see if this time you make the right one."

And gone the way he was always gone: in an instant, without a trace, leaving in his wake a fluttering of incomprehensible questions.

Daud had wanted to ignore the little shit, but the phrase wouldn't leave him. Rang in his head, unceasing, until at last he turned the Whalers toward research. They looked at he looked for hints of what the phrase might mean. For a while, there was nothing at all. Finnick would spend all night at the computer with nothing to show, Billie would come in after speaking with contacts who could offer nothing. It was weeks before they found the first real leads: mere suggestions in Providence's systems and scattered words gleaned by tailing scientists. That led them to nanites, projects involving nanites, and finally...

Well. It might have been funny in a different time, or if Daud didn't feel so thoroughly (no, only a little, only a little) at odds with himself. But the leads directed them right back to Caesar Salazar.

Daud busied himself and his assassins with preparing to break into Providence, a difficult but not impossible task. Thomas was put in charge of cameras, Billie would enter the building with Daud - taking care of any threats while he spoke with the boy, keeping an eye out for trouble - and every other Whaler was given a particular task and drilled in its execution. They would be as quiet as they could, as quick as they could, and anyone who interfered would need to be incapacitated.

Finally, the day arrives. The entry goes smoothly, he and Billie making quick work of the guards in their vicinity, using the Outsider's so-called gift to move with impossible speed. Once they've got the door open, he checks in with Billie, receives a sharp nod, and enters the room.

Daud's dressed much the same as when they last met, bears a similarly unmoved expression. Closer examination would reveal the cracks that have begun forming: the exhaustion around his eyes, the ways his fingers sometimes drum the air in a restless gesture, the way his entire body is held in a new kind of drawn tension. Approaching Caesar, he prepares himself to attack if need be, to silence the man or knock him out (he'll take the body and go if he has to, save the questions for headquarters).

"We need to talk."