Genesis (Man vs Machine #1)

20 | IDENTITY CRIME

He knocked on the door thrice, stopped, then knocked four times. That was how Wayland knew it was him. The door swung open to reveal a bleary-eyed Colonel slouched at his desk, rubbing at the dark circles on his face.

'What is it, Grant?' Wayland looked tiredly at the Commander as he stepped into his office. 'Can't this wait till morning?'

'I'm afraid not, sir,' said Grant, standing at ease in front of the desk. 'I have a favor to ask of you. I believe my Lieutenant left a file with you. I'd like to take a look at it.'

Wayland blinked, once, as the request registered, then swept his eyes over the office. 'Did he comm it to me?'

'It was a paper file. Sir.' Grant stared straight ahead, impassive, even though he felt like everything was starting to go wrong. Very wrong. It wasn't just that the Colonel was acting more than a little suspicious these days - there was something else, something that had always been the same, that was changing for the worse.

Wayland stood up, yawning. 'Paper files, you say? He turned to look at the shelf on his right, leaning weakly on the desk as he surveyed its contents. Grant saw what looked like a slip of manila peeking out from inside a drawer, but didn't dare bring attention to it. 'Why do you need it?'

Lips pursed, Grant tried to scan the rest of the room as discreetly as he could. 'That's confidential, sir.'

Wayland pulled the files from his shelf at last, smiling good-naturedly. 'Nothing's confidential to me,' he laughed, and the veiled threat did not escape Grant. Instead it stuck fast to him.

The Colonel held out the files and Grant took them silently, keeping his eyes trained on Wayland's tired face. 'Thank you,' he said quietly, turning to leave.

'Wait.' Wayland stopped him just as he pulled the door open, and he paused without looking back. 'Tell Lieutenant Warner he needn't come tomorrow.'

Grant didn't bother to ask what for. 'Yes, sir.' And then he closed the door silently behind him, stepping out into the hallway, which was darkened and empty.

In the silence, suspicion curled around him, weaving in and out of his thoughts. Some sort of deeper motive underlay everything he was made to do. And he had absolutely no inkling at all of what it could be.

Rubbing his temples, he leaned against the wall, sliding down until he was sitting on the hard floor. The opposite wall faced him stubbornly, blank and vacant. Nothing gave him any answers here.

He needed to start from the beginning. From what he knew and what was obvious - everything he thought was going wrong started and came full circle with their neverending mission to find the Core.

The Titans had been conceptualized during the Cold War - as America's strategy of winning. But insufficient funds had led to the idea being shelved until later; until Embert Industries had provided enough material for the first ever gen to be produced. They weren't much back then - too robotic, with bulging eyes and faux silicone skin. Time had changed things. Quickly, and drastically.

Grant closed his eyes. His head stung, and his eyes burned, but he was buzzing with something. Something that wanted for answers. He knew of only one person who could give them to him, and so he rose slowly and turned down the hallway into C-wing, making his way down towards the IntelOps HQ.

He shivered lightly. The air was cold but stagnant, and there was no other movement in the dimly lit halls. But as he walked forward, voices began to float towards him. One was low and urgent, the other spoke gruffly and almost monotonously. Grant couldn't place their owners.

Being careful to make as little noise as possible, Grant sidled up to the corner, listening as closely as the distance would let him. At first he struggled to make out the words, but soon the conversation became clearer.