The Senior 4

The Station had been called many thing throughout the Senior's time. The Terminal. The Station. Last End.

When he spoke of it, he called it Terminus, "As did my elders," he often said, even though the word was outdated it recalled a time when everything wasn't run through proceessors and hard drives and transistors that now lived inside the body and leached its power from the nervous system's electricity. The tools had changed, he remarked to Kit on the boy's first arrival.

One of the Group's satellite crews had sent Kit over at the Senior's behest, though none including Kit learned this until later. All that Kit knew was that he'd been ordered to pack his belongings into one bag, given a ticket to the city, and told he was now the crew's ambassador to the main branch.

When he arrived at the Station, the Senior had been waiting for him.

"I believe you're to be my guide," Kit announced as he approached an older man, taller than he with white hair and a sharp suit. "My company must have sent you."

The older man led Kit around the Station.

"How do you like Terminus? First time around here, yes?"

"Yes it is. It's so full," replied Kit. "So many people, even in such a large space. It almost feels small."

"The first time I came here, the Terminus was still new. I was about your age then, and I spent two days here."

The Senior 3

They rode the rest of the way in silence. The Senior focused on the lack of scenery flying past the windows: lights moving past fast enough to barely register as streaks in groups of two or three only to be replaced by a new group of lights and brief splashes of graffitti, none sharp enonugh to know anything about them other than the simple idea that they were there. The Senior's thoughts turned to permenance.

I shouldn't be here, he told himself. When I walked out it was the right thing, and she was a big girl. I didn't leave her, not just her, it wasn't personal.

He'd nearly jumped at his change to come back, he argued with himself, it was like being asked to come back home. And he'd left--

"Sir," said Kit, "We're here."

As the Senior stood, he glanced around the train. He could see to the other end of the train car and he had a view of the locked door near his end. His hands weren't in his pockets, one was, in fact, behind him, hanging at his back where his knife wasn't anymore, he realized. He hadn't carried since he left the group.

"Sir?" Kit asked, holding the door.

The Senior said nothing and walked out of the train, heading for the stairs.

The station was as crowded as could be expected given the time of day.

"Let's go," he said over his shoulder.

The Senior 2

As the door to the bar closed behind them, the Senior threw on his jacket then led Kit along the familiar route towards the train, and Kit hurried to keep abreast of the older man's quick stride.

"How long have the Foreigners been back in town," the Senior asked as he dodged pedestrians.

"They came back, Sir, about two years after you left. Until about three months back, they weren't taking any contracts in the City." Kit moved ahead to hold open the door to the station.

"That's why Ilse was sent in, I take it?"

"She hadn't been allowed to take on any solo work for some time. She was teamed with Kathe for this run, as well as the preceding two"

"Confrontation was expected." The Senior boarded the first available train with Kit in tow.

"No, Sir, I did not."

The Senior stopped. And stared hard.

"Things have become less stable within the group, Sir," Kit said as he moved past the Senior to take the seat next to him. Eyes front.

"She was incapable of solo work, Sir, shortly after you left."

The Senior deflated into his seat.

"Took it very poorly, Sir. She hadn't been sober since."

"She was never sober, boy," the Senior said quietly, looking out into space. "She was a fish."

"Yes Sir, until she swam to the bottom more times than she could handle."

They sat in silence as the train departed, and the silence continued as the Senior gazed out the window at the tunnels and lights.

The Senior 1

"Well met, Kit."

"Well met, Senior. Is this seat taken?"

"Give the boy a drink," the Senior said to the bartender without looking up at the boy. "What does he want?"

"He wants you to come home, Sir. I've been told to impress upon you the group's need for you in this time of crisis."

"He hasn't moved past those days, has he? It's not going to work, his savior-from-the-bad-old-days bit. We were shocked that it worked the first time, but to try for twice..."

"Yes Sir, I agree that the group's morale might not take the same shine to it, but those are his orders.
"The group is restless, Sir. Now that the foreigners have come back, he feels that your presence is crucial. We lost two of the old guard, Sir, Ilse and Kathe. They were taken during the 238th street incident. The foreigners left markers, Sir. They want the old land back."

"The foreigners took out the two girls, did they?" He took a long, long pull off his drink. "Did we manage to get their weapons back to the Center?"

"Yes sir, two of the four blades will remain in the hold."

"The girls are gone..." he mused as he finished his drink, and reached over for Kit's. "You haven't even touched it, boy. Starting to wonder about you," and he finished the second drink. "Pay the man, and let's get going."

"Where to, Sir?" Kit said as he reached out his hand to scan-out the payment.

"To the ceremony."

"Sir, they'ven been--they passed almost six days back."

"And he'll have waited for me. He sent you after me, didn't he? With his sense of theatrics, the
Captain will have it all ready to go once he hears of our return."

"Yes sir." Kit slumped. Despite knowing that the Senior hadn't been a player for some time, it was still hard to believe his grasp on the man everyone just called "Captain."