Children of the Virus

36: Baal Protects the King

Shadows clung to the corners of the cold room like cobwebs, undisturbed by the flicker of the single dim light above. Juno sat hunched on an old metal chair, her silhouette etched with grief. Her eyes, usually sharp as a hawk's, were dull and unfocused, lost in the memory of Baz—his laughter, his fiery spirit, now extinguished.

The door slid open with a soft hiss, spilling a rectangle of harsh light over Juno's huddled form. Toshiro stepped into the gloom, followed by Ren, their faces set with purpose. The heaviness of his prosthetic arm, a constant reminder of the cost of crossing Zo, tempered the determination that sparked in his gaze.

"Juno," Toshiro began, his voice strained, "we need your help."

Juno glanced up, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen. She stared at Toshiro for a moment before letting out a bitter laugh. "Help?" Her voice wavered, thick with emotion. "What could I possibly do?"

"There are more children..." Toshiro started, pausing as if the weight of the situation bore down on him. "Zo has taken them captive. We have a chance to save them, but we can't do it without you."

"More missions?" Juno's gaze hardened. "No. I can't. Not now. Not after Baz." She shook her head vigorously, tears streaming down her face. Her hands clenched into fists, knuckles whitening. "I need time to process all of this."

"Juno...please..." Ren stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder. "We understand, but the longer we wait, the more danger those children are in."

"Damn it, Ren! You think I don't know that?" Juno snapped, pushing Ren's hand away and rising so abruptly that her chair clattered to the tile floor. "But I just lost Baz. I can't lose anyone else right now. I won't."

Toshiro understood her pain but could not ignore the desperation clawing inside him. He fought against the urge to argue further, knowing it would only make her more distant. His mind struggled with the weight of the situation.

"Please, Juno," he implored one last time in a whisper. "We need you." Reaching out with his flesh-and-blood hand, he tried to bridge the chasm of her sorrow.

"Go! Just leave me alone!" Juno's voice cracked like a whip, reflecting off the bare walls, reverberating with the pain of loss too profound to bear.

Toshiro and Ren exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them. Without another word, they retreated from the room, leaving Juno shrouded in darkness once more, a solitary figure grappling with the specters of grief.

Toshiro's footsteps echoed down the cold, sterile hallway, each step resonating with the weight of their failed plea to Juno. Ren paced beside him, her boots scuffing against the floor in a restless cadence.

Her eyes flashed with anger, hands clenched into fists. "Juno is a coward," she spat, her energy crackling with frustration. "We don't need her. We'll find another way."

"Ren," Toshiro replied, his voice steady despite the turmoil he felt inside. "She's grieving. We all are."

"Does grief give her the right to abandon those children?" Ren's gaze was ablaze, challenging him, demanding an answer he didn't have.

"No, but—"

"Baz wouldn't have hesitated to help them." Tears glazed her eyes.

"Enough," Toshiro said, reaching out to touch Ren's arm. "We'll find a way without her. For now, we need to focus on the funeral."

As they neared the end of the hallway, Toshiro's mind raced with conflicting thoughts. The weight of responsibility pressed down on him like a physical force, threatening to crush his resolve. But one thing was clear: he could not let Baz's death be in vain; he had to save the children at all costs.