I shake my head slowly. "I tried doing it the right way. Her way. She believed that you could fight this war the noble way. Use the system to bring justice. But they are the system. And there is no justice."
Static sits perfectly still, watching me. We both know what we’re capable of. What we were made to do. The havoc we can wreak when we're unleashed. There's a reason the government buried Project Guardian and let us scatter to the winds.
"So I'll ask again. What are you going to do?" Static’s voice is quiet, but there's steel underneath.
I meet his gaze. "What I was made to do.” I grit my teeth.And the monster inside writhes and growls and gnashes its teeth. “I'm going to war."
Static doesn't flinch. Doesn't try to talk me down. He just nods once, accepting what's to come.
"How can I help?" Static asks.
"This isn't your fight." I turn away from him, fighting against the pain radiating through my body as I pull myself to my feet.
Static's laugh is bitter. "You think you're the only one who's been running? The only one with nightmares?"
I watch his profile against the rapidly fading sunlight. He does look the same, but there is something different in his eyes: a weariness that goes beyond physical exhaustion.
"I thought I could disappear, too. Easier for me. I’ve always loved the digital world more than the real one," Static looks down at his hands. "But we weren’t really hiding from the world, were we? We were trying to hide from ourselves."
I don’t say anything. Because what can I say?
"Barakesh wasn't just on Logan. Or you. Or any of the other stuff we did. It was on all of us. So how can I help?”
"I'm going to destroy El Centinela," I say, the plan crystallizing as I speak it. "I'll need weapons."
Static doesn't hesitate. "Done."
"And I want you to send a message to Isla Graves. Let her know that I'm coming."
Static furrows his brow. "Why? You’ll give up a tactical advantage that way."
I shake my head, feeling cold clarity washing through me. "I want it to be fortified. I want them to expect me." I turn to face him. "So when I destroy it anyway, she'll know that there's no way to stop me from getting Naomi back."
Static studies me for a long moment.
I run my hands over my face, hand scraping beard. "If I dothis, I'll lose what's left of my soul. And I won’t have any chance of being with her. But she’ll be safe.”
Static shakes his head. "El Centinela is an evil place. It deserves to be destroyed. It's not the same as Barakesh."
"Maybe not. But I can't imagine that all those people don't have loved ones." I move to the window, pain shooting through my leg with each step. "Parents. Siblings. Maybe children somewhere."
"They're perpetuating evil," Static counters, stepping closer. "Human trafficking, drug running, weapons. The place exists to fund the worst kinds of human suffering."
"Isn't that what we did?" I turn to face him, the irony bitter on my tongue. "The people who gave us orders weren't all that different from the people we're up against."
"It’s not the same thing.”
"Isn't it?" I look down at my hands. They’re covered in blood.Aren’t they always. "We told ourselves we were the good guys. That the people we killed deserved it. That the collateral damage was unfortunate but necessary.” I turn back and look at Static. “How are we different from them?”
Static doesn't answer for some time. "I don't know," he finally admits.
"It doesn't matter anyway," I say firmly. "I was fooling myself that I deserved her. That I could just walk away from what I've done, what I am." I meet Static's gaze, unflinching. "I don’t care if I lose whatever humanity I have left. I'd sacrifice my life and my chance to be with her to save her."
Saying it aloud makes it real: the terrible bargain I'm making. The last scraps of redemption I've clung to, traded for her life. But there's relief in it too, a clarity that burns like antiseptic.
Static studies me for a long moment. "You really do love her."
It's not a question, but I answer anyway. "More than I thought I was capable of."
