We found Coil at the end of the walkway, talking to four people who most definitely weren’t soldiers. Each wore a suit, and none seemed the type to carry a gun.
Like, actual businessperson suits? Interesting.
There was a heavyset woman, a man who must’ve been fifty or sixty, a man who stood no more than four feet tall and a blonde woman who barely looked out of high school.
Tag yourself, I’m the smol man.
“Cranston, can you have it for tomorrow?”
“Yes, sir,” the blonde woman replied.
Cranston? Seems like an uncommon name. All the better to remember, though, hopefully.
“Good. Pearse, the soldiers?”
Seems like an alternate spelling of Pierce, but I can’t help but imagine it being pronounced like “pears”.
“Squads Fish, Nora and Young are suited up and ready for your okay,” the short man spoke.
I like the squad names. I wonder if there’s some sort of system to it? Maybe it’s based on the squad leaders’ names, or something.
“And the replacement recruits?”
Pearse handed Coil a set of folders, “I’ve put post-its on the most promising. We need two to make up for one soldier that was recently injured, and one that decided to skip town.”
A deserter, huh? I wonder how much the soldiers know about the bigger picture goings-on.
Coil tucked the folders under one arm, “Good. Duchene, I’ll talk to you later tonight about our preparations. The rest of you, I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
I’m gonna take a 50/50 guess that Duchene is the heavyset woman.
The suits marched off, with all but the fat lady passing us to go the way we’d come, along the metal walkway. The woman headed down the stairs to the lower area with all the soldiers, and a group of people that weren’t in uniform flocked to her. People with clipboards and crowbars. The construction crew?
Definitely seems Coil is in charge of this construction, not just hiding underneath it for some reason.
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