S2, E8 | Justice for the Dear Soul in an Open Casket

> 20th May, 2031 <

“Do you think I care?” Sophie replies, throwing a handful of clothes into a small suitcase as her father watches on, standing near her bedroom door as Elaine remains in the hallway, keeping her distance from a conversation she doesn’t believe there’s a place for her in. “I’m not charged with anything and the documentary goes to theatres in three weeks” the orange-haired offspring remarks, “I’m not staying in the state because a bunch of underfunded donut-munchers spin some tale about me.”

His chin in the air, Andrew closes his eyes as he grows increasingly exasperated. “What I’m saying is- it makes you look even more suspicious than you think they’re painting you out as” the man clarifies, quickly redirecting the conversation’s focus to his daughter’s final point, “and they’re not spinning some tale about you- they’re naming you a suspect to murder.”

“Yes- a murder to someone that I haven’t said more than a sentence to since before I went missing” Sophie replies, putting on her most sarcastic expression as she animatedly nods, “how suspicious.” Guiding her hand over the luggage, the young woman of increasing public attention zips her bag shut and changes out her short-sleeved grey tank top for a baggy, maroon-shaded t-shirt with a plunging neckline, switching out a casual attire for one worthy of stepping into the public eye in.

“It doesn’t matter whether or not you did it, it matters that you’re a suspect in her murder” Andrew explains further, failing to realise that his daughter’s intentions cannot be changed by his warnings, “if the news realises you defied the cops’ orders, they’ll convince themselves you’re guilty before you ever even leave Illinois!”

In one, smooth motion, Sophie pulls the end of her long, bright locks out of the shirt collar and snatches her keys from atop the nightstand beside her bed. “I don’t care!” she sighs with youthful ignorance, taking her holdall by the handle and walking past her father, finishing her thought as she steps past him, “I’ve got nothing to do with what happened to Izzy, and nothing the news can say will be able to change that.”

Entering the hallway with a purpose, Sophie completely ignores Elaine’s presence as she makes for the staircase, her father’s heavy feet following after her closely. “Honey, will you please just stop for a second and talk to me?” Andrew calls out, following his eldest child down the steps as she makes her way through the front door, not responding to his request as the options he wields greatly dwindle.

“Sophie!” Andrew calls out, watching the young woman’s hand lift into the air in a show of dismissal. “I’m done talking about this, dad!” the girl proclaims, unlocking her car door and starting the engine before she can even set foot into the vehicle. “Sophie, please come back!” the man requests again, this time receiving no response, the only sound made from the slamming of the driver’s door shutting, followed by the tires reversing over loose asphalt.

Within seconds, his daughter’s presence is rendered non-existent as her car takes off for the end of the road, leaving the man behind- his good intentions waved off as unimportant to the bigger picture. Disgruntled, Andrew looks on for a few, additional moments with his hands on each hip, a momentary pause held as he processes his daughter’s departure before turning to re-enter the home, only to catch a glimpse of dark-clothed figures out of the corner of his eye.

Gathered together, George and Rebecca stand near the front of their drive-parked vehicle in mourning attire, their eyes held toward his direction as they exchange glances. The picture missing a member, Andrew’s gaze drifts toward the end of the home’s lawn, where the Nurse’s only child stands at the driver’s side of his vehicle, completely unaffected by the questionable scene he’d just watched unfold.

His necktie loose around the collar of his black shirt, Caden stands at his car with the door open for a moment, staring blankly at the neighbouring home’s owner before silently ducking into his seat, driving off into the early morning as his parents watch on, physically incapable of stopping him. As his spirits fall, Andrew turns his attention back to his remaining neighbours and bows his head, showing his respect before following through on re-entering the home.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go?” Elaine asks with a hint of defeat in her voice, a sorrowful look worn on her face as she follows the man into the kitchen, a heavy heart weighing on her. Before he can even answer, Andrew’s head begins to shake as his hand reaches for the nearest cabinet, both eyes taking to the hardest liquor he can find hidden away from untrustworthy eyes.

“There’s just no way I can make it through that” Andrew responds, retrieving the biggest bottle of vodka he can catch a glimpse of, gently placing it on the marble countertop as a deep sigh leaves him, “I’d prefer my last memory of that girl to be when she was alive.” Pressing his palm against the bottle’s cap, the man feels the bottle gently move away from him at Elaine’s command, her hands pushing away the strong beverage before taking him by the arms and turning his back to the drink.

“Liquor’s not going to make the pain any better, love” her soft voice whispers, trying to look into his eyes as his head bows, eyelids tightly pressing shut as every conflict begins to overwhelm him. “Look at me” Elaine calmly beckons, lowering her chin to get her best angle of Andrew’s face, waiting for him to give into her gently-spoken pleas, her lips spreading to form the most approachable smile she can manage to make.

Slowly lulled into cooperation, Andrew lets his eyes open, looking the shorter woman in the face without issue as her hands rest against his shoulders, her warm palms easing him down from the emotional distress. “This is all just a really really bad stretch of really really awful stuff” Elaine softly murmurs, locking eyes with the man she’d gradually- over the last number of months- fallen madly in love with, “it too- just like all the other times before it- will pass.”

Lifting his chin just slightly, Andrew nods briefly as he parts his lips, eyes drifting to the back of the spacious kitchen as his mind tries its best to wrap optimistic hands around cynical thoughts. “You’re right, and I know you’re right” he confesses, the difficulty he faces not in admitting his false outlook, but in accepting her truthful one, “it’s just- ugh- I can’t stop thinking about it.”

His avoidance of looking her in the eyes making her curious, Elaine presses her hands against each side of her significant other’s face, keeping his gaze from straying from her. “Thinking about what?” the woman inquires, greatly disheartened at the obvious distress he’d become befallen to. Trying to shake off the question, Andrew pulls away from his girlfriend’s grasp, gently pulling her hands away as he backs off, making for the kitchen’s exit as he steps into the living room.

“Andrew!” Elaine calls aloud, again following the man into the next room, taking a seat upon the couch he lowers himself into, sinking into the seat as he presses his hands against the features of his face, trying to decompress as best he can. “Andrew, talk to me” she delicately pleads, resting one hand on the man’s thigh whilst the other presses into the cushion she sits against, propping herself up as the man’s hands fall away.

“Everything’s fucked” the man finally groans, letting the back of his hands slam into his lap as they fall from his face, the dejected slump of his shoulders telling the tale of a man who’s lost much of the upbeat temperament he’d once moulded himself around. “We were just a normal family sixteen months ago, and now- now we’re like the centre of everything!” Andrew sighs, listening to a pair of tiny footsteps touch upon the floor just overhead as he continues.

“Murders, and conflict, and fighting, and arguing. It’s just-” the man continues, listening to the gentle taps of feet above increase as the person they belong to passes the guest bedroom. “-It’s just difficult to keep putting on a happy face every day when there’s always something new waiting to show its face around every corner” Andrew finishes, taking in a deep breath as his face brightens as best it can, feigning that same happy face as Olivia races down the stairs.

“Ms. Kirkpatrick! You’re still here!” the small girl exclaims, throwing her hands out and jumping onto the couch, pulling the woman in for a hug with the biggest smile on her face. “Yes I am!” Elaine replies, reciprocating the loving gesture of adoration before releasing her tight squeeze on the small girl, allowing her to move onto the man beside her. “Ms. Kirkpatrick’s still here, daddy! Hi, daddy!” Olivia chirps, leaping into her father’s arms as his bogus simper fools her as it always does.

“Yes, Ms. Kirkpatrick is still here” the man responds, letting his daughter pull her head back as her arms remain locked around his neck, “do you like having Ms. Kirkpatrick here as much as I do?” Releasing her grasp, Olivia responds by returning to the incredibly flattered woman, their hug resuming as she answers with glee. “Yes! I love having Ms. Kirkpatrick here!” the loving young child shouts, putting a genuine smile on the face of the woman whose heart melts at the kind remarks.

With the child’s chin nestling against her neck, Elaine’s eyes retake toward the empty-armed man, his previous exhaustion-induced anxiousness gradually lessening as he watches the girls beside him take joy from each other’s company. Though wrestling with plenty of his own inner conflicts, Andrew’s heart gives itself a rest and enjoys the display of true innocence before him, reminded of the good still left in spite of the bad he frequently finds himself trapped within.

= Generation Alpha is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 1 onwards =

> 20th May, 2031 <

With the palm of both hands placed on his steering wheel, Caden sits in his driver’s seat without a single ounce of life in his expression, just a blank stare at the top of his sunlit dashboard. As if lost somewhere within the terrible neighbourhoods that have been pitched in the empty spaces of his mind, the young man’s eyes casually drift from one side of the car to the other, not looking for anything in specific, just travelling with the thoughts that he hides however possible.

In a perfect world, the seat beside him would be occupied, the soul within it one that never had to be snuffed to begin with. “I wouldn’t think there’d be this many people here for me” Izzy’s voice says, conjured up through one of the unkempt alleys Caden’s metaphorical trip drifts down, trying to pretend he’s not entirely alone. 

“I hope- at the very least- that I looked nice before they closed the lid” she remarks again, receiving no response from the young man who crafts her words, understanding they’re just a creation he’d summoned to the best detail he can afford to imagine. Though he knows the seat beside him remains empty, the heartbreakingly familiar voice he hears no longer exists, and the comments being made can only be found within the confines of his head, Caden takes the smallest joy out of having them.

“Are you coherent enough to know where you are?” an authentic, grizzly voice calls out from the other side of Caden’s door, startling the young man with the taps of his knuckle on the glass. Jostled out of his pain-crafted chimaera, the young man stares out at the face of a taller, bald-headed man that hunches over to look through the glass divide that separates them, waiting for a reply.

“What the fuck, man!?” Caden blurts out as he pushes his door open, exiting the vehicle as the investigator begins casually walking on, both hands tucked away in the pockets of his beige khakis. “When I was a kid, the only drugs I was familiar with were cannabis and heroin-” Dennis responds, stepping out from the sea of asphalt masquerading as a parking lot to return to earth, grass still wet from a morning dew now coating his leather shoes in water, “-I don’t know what you’ve got nowadays.”

“I’m not on drugs, I’m at my fucking girlfriend’s funeral!” Caden responds, quickly following the man’s lead as he walks away from the source of increasingly fewer visitors, the ceremony already having come and gone just as many of its attendants have by this time. “People don’t usually sit in their car waving their head from side-to-side as a method of grieving” Dennis retorts, continuing to walk with his face forward, “they cry, they go home, they eat ice cream, and slowly move forward.”

Having realised his own disinterest halfway through the investigator’s remarks, Caden quickly redirects the dialogue, getting the most obvious curiosity out of the way. “Nevermind that- why are you here?” the young man inquires, finally catching up with the nonchalant private eye as they re-enter the cemetery, making their way past a variety of headstones as one in specific comes to the older man’s eye.

“Because there’s a way to make this right” Dennis responds, not wanting to display any emotion in what he says despite the personal glee he takes from each new revelation. “Unfortunately, my miracle can’t bring your girlfriend back- I’m terribly sorry for that by the way, my condolences go out to you- but they may be able to do right by her” the conversation and hike-leading gentleman continues, “maybe- if we’re lucky- we can help clear that guilty conscience you’ve got too.”

Shaking his head as his eyes roll, Caden continues to follow Dennis’ lead, his hands swinging from one side to the other as he expresses his doubts, “unless you’ve got a way to put Sophie away, I don’t think you’re clearing anything.”

His stride confident, Dennis’ walk comes to an abrupt end as he watches the teenager continue to press forward for a few seconds, the pause soon noticed by the loss-stricken funeral-goer. Coming to a slower stop himself, Caden looks back, wondering to himself why his acquaintance would cease the progress made before connecting the dots, a noticeable widening of his eyes signalling to the investigator that they’ve stumbled upon the same page as each other.

“You have proof?” Caden asks in disbelief, quickly guided back from the fleeting high he’d quickly built himself toward, though replaced with a much more stable pedestal to stand upon. “No, but I think I know how to get it” Dennis corrects, slowly cutting the distance between himself and the only child as his explanation occupies the air.

“The crew working on Sophie’s documentary are in the home stretch. That doc is going to theatres soon, and in the meantime, they’re going into overdrive on advertisement” he proclaims, motioning with his hands as he concocts his plan, “part of that advertisement involves a panel in Chicago this Friday with a certain star of the show in attendance.”

“So, Sophie’s going to Chicago this weekend?” Caden replies, his eyes squinting as his chin juts forward, the state of grief he’d spent his day consumed by slowly falling aside in favour of the promising words the investigator presents to him. “She left this morning” Dennis answers, his body language speaking of the utmost assurance and outright hope, latching onto a thread he is certain of his abilities to knit into a blanket, “she’s already on the road.”

Parting his lips to speak, Caden falls silent for a moment, his initial question failing to take on the importance of the second one that pops into his head, the apparent holes in this scheme presenting themselves. “So, what exactly are you getting at?” he asks, the air left open for his question to be raised as desired, “the public cops can’t legally keep people from leaving the state, so it’s not like you can get her for evading the law.”

Shaking his head as he steps forward with his hands waving, Dennis’ face begins to sport a smile as his vision for the opportunity that presents itself is spilled to the person he thinks has the most to gain from it. “I’m telling you that she won't be home for the next four or five days” the private eye proclaims, reaching into his pocket to retrieve a small, plastic flash drive, “and that means there’s no way for her to stop me from showing her father this.”

Confused, yet intrigued, Caden considers what may be on the drive before the most likely answer pops into his head, his realisation of this putting a morbid expression on his face. “What’s on that?” he asks with a low tone, almost asking the question as if he didn’t actually want to know the answer. “Do you really want me to tell you?” Dennis counters, reading into the look held by the young man’s eyes, “because, if I was guessing- I think you already know what it is.”

His stare rigid and intense, Caden’s eyes remain glued to the device before a cold shiver runs down his spine, freeing him from the momentary daze as he turns away, taking a few steps back as he tries to clear his head. Looking to the open grave just twenty metres away- the soul in the coffin it hosts yet to be named by a headstone- Dennis begins to make his declaration as the young man continues slowly pulling away.

“Mr. Carrion wasn’t a stranger to Izzy. The person in that grave doesn’t need to have a headstone for you to know who’s in there, and the same applies to him” Dennis explains, taking two steps forward for every one departing step Caden takes, “I know from experience that what he’s going to see will be the greatest pain and shock he’s ever experienced, but it’s a pain and shock that he needs to see if Sophie’s ever going to pay for what she’s done.”

With his chin held toward the ground, Caden stands in silence as Dennis keeps a short distance between them, allowing the young man a moment of solitude he’d taken from him minutes prior. In silence, the young man sits with his thoughts for a moment, a streak of light running over his dark hair from the uncovered sun above, his face shrouded by the shadow of a nearby tree as it sits with an expression formed through grief and exhaustion.

Moving his lips without saying a word, Caden speaks to himself as the private eye watches on, providing him with whatever time he needs to process what he’s been told. Passing a glance toward the distance, the young man clears his throat and nods, wiping his upper lip with the knuckle of his index finger as he finally responds, filling the air with a voice projected through faith that the proposal’s potential can be seen through.

“Why are you telling me all of this?” he wonders aloud, calling the man’s motives into question as the threads, though lining up, don’t necessarily make a perfect line. “You’ve got all the leverage you need to show Mr. Carrion the truth in your hand right now- you don’t need me” Caden reiterates as he turns around, looking back to the man that waits by for his response, “you could be in his living room right now showing him everything you just told me, but you’re here instead. Why?”

With a stoic face, Dennis looks at Caden without any change in his expression, neither an exhaustion from answering questions, nor a haste to get on with the proposition, nor an agreement that his time was wasted. As if the inquiry had struck a chord with him, the private eye’s shoulders begin to lower, his hands remaining by his sides as the purposefully-mysterious demeanour he frequently sports begins to descend, finding common ground with the anguished young man.

|

> 20th May, 2031 <

“By all means, come in” Andrew responds, stepping aside to hold the door open for Caden, still dressed in his funeral attire, the fitted jacket traded in for a black dress shirt with rolled up sleeves. “Uh, Sophie-” the elder gentleman begins to remark, pausing for a moment as he recalls the neighbour’s hatred for his daughter, though unsure of any other reason for his unexpected visit, “-Sophie’s not here. Do you need her for something?”

Shaking his head, Caden takes a long look at the living room, its normal colour scheme and natural layout speaking to the mind of a normal home, one on the verge of being rocked to its core and stripped of its will to hope. “Where’s the little one?” the preoccupied young man asks, peering through the nearby window as Andrew watches on, confused at the profoundly odd manner in which his youngest neighbour inhabits the room.

“She’s- she’s out with Elaine” the man responds, every hour since the early morning having been spent on his own, the home’s quiet walls telling the tale of a man having spent his day failing to discourage himself from worrying over his eldest born. “That’s the woman with the van, right? The one that drives her to school?” Caden responds, allowed to form his own conclusions as the question is left in an uncomfortable silence, “good for you.”

Put off by the awkward first few words exchanged, Andrew tries to continue the conversation on more pleasant ground, neither himself, nor the boy across the room from him in an accordingly-affable mood. “I’m sorry for skipping out on the service, kid” the man apologises, keeping an upbeat tone in his voice as Caden remains fixated on the road outside, listening to the man’s admission of regret before shaking his head.

“It wasn’t anything special anyway. You didn’t miss much” the guest assures, looking out as the first few street lights power on, illuminating the stretch of road a fading sun leaves behind. “Still, I should’ve gone” Andrew doubles down, yet to move from the door just as Caden has yet to move from the centre of his living room, “Izzy was a really good kid. What happened shouldn’t have, and it was wrong of me not to at least say goodbye.”

For a brief moment, Caden smirks, nodding at the man’s kind words before hanging his head again, rubbing the tip of his nose with the back of his knuckles, agreeing with every word out of the father’s mouth. “Yeah, you’re right” he responds, still yet to fully embrace the world without the lost girl in it, enraptured by the sorrow that surrounds her untimely passing, “she shouldn’t be dead.”

Convinced that the boy’s strange demeanour is a result of the day’s gruelling toll, Andrew bows his head and nods, agreeing with the true statements he’d been responded to with before they’re followed up on. “But don’t worry, I don’t blame you for missing it-” Caden replies, finally moving the slightest amount, just enough for his body to veer to the left whilst his eyes look back to the father from over his shoulder, “-just like I don’t blame you for her getting killed.”

Perplexed, Andrew looks curiously in the young man’s direction as his head tilts to one side, a nervous chuckle leaving his lungs before the first question that comes to mind leaves his lips, “why would you blame me?” Lowering his chin again, Caden’s posture becomes more empathetic as he spins around the rest of the way, looking to the ground as he casually makes for the kitchen.

“Because it’d be easy. It wouldn’t make sense, and it’d be a really twisted way of coping with it, but it would be easy” Caden answers, pulling out a stool before taking a seat at the island, “why would you bother blaming the killer when you could just blame the person who raised them?” Furrowing his eyebrows, Andrew takes offence to the implication being made, following the lead the young man’s words paint out for him to be led by.

“Caden, are you alright?” the home’s owner replies, immediately hearing a breathy laugh escape the tip of Caden’s tongue as it grows into a more audible chuckle, his head bowing as his arms press against the countertop. “I just buried my girlfriend- of course I’m not alright” the young man replies, his voice returning a normal pitch as he looks off to the corner of the room, an inquisitive expression replacing the amused visage he’d sported up to that moment.

“I just don’t get how she got away with it the first time” Caden speaks aloud, talking to himself, only loud enough for the man that approaches to hear as well, “with every single hole in that story, you’d think someone other than me would’ve put the puzzle together by now.” Pressing his lips together, Andrew lifts his wrist to the base of his chin, speaking into the watch that sits on his arm, “call Rebecca Nurse” he commands.

“She takes her watch off before she goes into public places” the young man at his countertop replies, insinuating the request will fail to make it through to the intended recipient, “my family doesn’t really like technology as much as they like blaming it for problems.” Sitting in silence for another few moments as the watch rings, Caden waits for the voicemail greeting he’d memorised verbatim since he was a small child.

After a few rings, the voice that replies is mirrored by the boy atop one of many stools, his voice matching the one spoken through his watch until the moment the call is hung up. “Alright Caden, I think you should get home now” Andrew remarks, resting his hand on the teenager’s shoulder in an attempt to help him down from the stool, still convinced he’s anything other than sober.

Without assistance, Caden climbs down from the stool and walks across the kitchen, lining up opposite Andrew before repositioning his feet, one foot in front of the other and in line with the grout filler of the tiled floor. “I’ve had nothing to drink, my mom and dad hid every pill bottle ‘cause they’re paranoid and wouldn’t admit it, and I drove myself home” the young man claims as his balance remains perfect, “I’m not drunk- you just wish I was.”

Stepping down the final stretch of kitchen, Caden pats Andrew on the shoulder and steps off the line, again returning to the stool under his own power and with no issue. “Why would I wish that?” the man asks, not wishing to admit it, though agreeing with the statement made. Though desperately wanting there to be something off about the young man currently occupying his kitchen, Andrew can no longer deny that he’s entirely sober.

“Because if I was drunk, you could write off everything I’m saying as some stupid bullshit a moody teen would write in his journal after a binge” Caden replies, turning in the seat to face the man as a set of doors shut in the near distance, “and since I’m not, it means that I mean what I’m saying.”

Attempting to respond, Andrew’s attention is called to by the opening of the front door, Elaine’s hand releasing the knob as Olivia sprints into the living room with her arms widened. “Daddy!” the young girl exclaims, leaping into her father’s arms before he can even have the chance to fully lower himself to one knee, her grasp holding him tightly before her eyes wander toward the kitchen, widening in outright awe.

“CADEN!” Olivia screams, immediately releasing her father from the loving bearhug and sprinting toward the unexpected visitor. As if all his pain had melted away in the blink of an eye, the battle-tested, grief-stricken young man reverts to his former self, the one the precious angel of innocence with arms stretched like the wings of a hawk remembers fondly.

“Hey, ‘Livy!” Caden shouts, throwing himself off the stool and to the ground, lowering himself enough to catch the girl as she leaps off the hardwood tiles, stepping into the embrace of someone she’d grown to miss greatly without truly realising it. Only able to watch on, Andrew’s mouth forms a smile before his conscience reclaims hold of his emotions, any belief that Caden’s mind wasn’t fully present quashed in a moment of satisfying worry.

“Andrew” Elaine whispers, prompting the man to turn in her direction, his eyes growing wide when he notices she’s not alone. “What are you doing here?” the man wonders aloud, slowly becoming stricken with anger as he watches Dennis slink through the front door, a tophat held against his chest as he gingerly enters the home at the woman’s behest.

“He’s helping me” Caden answers on the private eye’s behalf, reclaiming the father’s attention for a moment as he returns to his feet, gently releasing the girl from his appreciative embrace. “There’s only one way to fix what’s happened, and you’re the only person that can do it” the young man calmly says, patting Olivia on the head as he looks her father in the eye, not pleased with having to say what he knows he needs to, “and if you don’t help us, everything will just get worse.”

Shaking his head as disbelief rolls over him, Andrew’s ear is taken back to Elaine, who places her hand on his chest as she looks into his eyes with a look of concern of her own. “Andrew” she whispers, pulling his face toward her own as he repeatedly tries to look toward the yet-to-speak private eye across the room, “I think you might have to hear them out.”

As if releasing the subdued confrontational tension that builds in his chest, the muscles in Andrew’s face loosen as he loses himself in Elaine’s eyes, seeing the anxiety that hides behind the pupils of his seraph. Reading the woman’s expression, Andrew realises she knows something more than what he does, this unspoken centre of such an impromptu gathering that encircles him powerful enough to bring her to near tears.

Lost for words, Andrew pulls his eyes away from Elaine’s and looks to Dennis, his apologetic expression unlike the one he’d received in their prior interactions. Taking all he can from the man’s visage, the father looks back to the kitchen and lays eyes on Caden, the sorrowful young man that had entered his home replaced by a sympathetic soul equally displeased with having to rope him into the same torment that he’d succumbed to long ago.

Yet to utter a word, Andrew is lulled into considering Elaine’s request, only acting upon the plea upon looking back to the woman before him, her wide eyes carrying a fear he wishes to free her from. “Olivia, sweetie-” the man finally mutters, turning to look at the girl he’d watched light the world into smiles and hugs with a heart full of distress, though he hides it remarkably well, “-can you go up to your room for a little bit, please?”

With the most innocent of nods, the young girl hurries for the stairs and races up each step, prancing down the hallway and to her room as the ground level is left to the situation she deserves nothing to do with. As his breathing grows heavy, Andrew’s hands begin to tremble as he backs away from the woman he holds closest, stepping past Caden and sliding a stool out from the island.

Still wearing a wedding band on his left hand, Andrew’s ring clatters against the seat’s wooden surface, moving with the rest of his shaky hand as he turns back to the room, its three inhabitants standing close together. With each pair of eyes on him, the man lets out a deep sigh and relaxes his aching muscles, yet to fully realise just how many pieces his world is about to be shattered into, though quick to accept that the breaking must commence as he addresses the small gathering.

“Have a seat.”

== Generation Alpha ==