30. exterminators must be MOURNFUL!

"I apologize for not telling you it was today," Sabrina muttered, staring straight ahead. "I just couldn't. I didn't want to bring it up."

Massiah sighed, not saying anything. So this was the real reason she had called back all the exterminators.

And yet, this was the first time a memorial had ever been held for an exterminator. It didn't seem fair. How many others had died before them, unrecognized, unmemoired?

"You didn't have to," Massiah finally said, glancing over the crowd. His eyes brushed past the familiar white and blond hair of his comrades.

"Maybe I don't," Sabrina admitted. "This wasn't cheap, but still. I want to start now. It's the least I can do."

Gran had always known Sabrina carried the weight of the team on her shoulders. Her decisions had saved lives—but they had also cost them. A burden like that could drive a person insane.

"It's not bad," Gran said as he stepped forward, approaching the casket.

There was probably nothing inside. The bodies had already been buried in a wide cemetery or cremated. But even empty, the casket still felt so full.

Turning toward the exterminators, he took in their faces, every single one of them was here. From Osiris to Lovecraft, even those who wouldn't lift a finger without being paid. Sabrina had made sure of it.

Gran smiled.

Then he cried.

Tears rolled down his cheeks, dripping onto his chin, but he didn't look away. He faced them all, his grief laid bare.

"Quaglifico Emma," he began, voice trembling, "or as we all knew her—Quem—was a wonderful person."

Silence. Only the sound of rain hammering against the roof filled the hall.

"She was the kind of person you'd never see angry," Gran continued. "Even on bad days, she had this attitude, this smile... you couldn't be mad at her."

He swallowed, his face twisting as more tears came. "I knew Quem back when we were kids, you know. We used to call her Mom," he laughed softly, a small chuckle laced with sorrow. "She would scold us like one too."

His fists clenched. His teeth ground together.

"We promised to protect each other." His voice broke. "And I couldn't do that. I couldn't even keep a promise that simple."

Massiah was already beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder before pulling him into a quiet, steady embrace.

Somehow, someway, Massiah didn't feel like he belonged here.

He had fought beside them, bled beside them, but he had never truly taken them under his wing. If that day had gone differently. If he had chosen to advance with them, maybe things wouldn't have ended like this.

Maybe Quem would still be—

His gaze landed on Dahlia. She was fidgeting with her fingers, biting her lip as tears welled in her eyes. Her shoulders trembled, but she made no sound.

Massiah exhaled softly.

"Quem was kind," He said, eyes sweeping over the gathered exterminators. "She was the kind of person who could understand you with just a glance, you'd think she was psychic even."

Some of them nodded. Others looked down. Even those who rarely showed emotion had their heads bowed.

Quem had been in the company for two years, but within those mere two years she had formed relationships with so many, bonded with so many, so effortlessly. That was just the kind of person she was.

"But Quem wasn't the only one who died," Massiah continued. "Inaki, Ross, and the people of Raval all lost their lives that day. But their deaths don't have to be the end."

The rain pounded harder against the roof.

"When I was little, someone told me something that stuck with me ever since... she told me that life only truly ends when it is forgotten."

Massiah continued.

"Life is a journey, and every journey must run its course before it reaches its end. Along the way, we meet people, some we laugh with, some we cry with. And when our journey ends, they carry us forward, keeping us alive in memory."

He exhaled, lowering his head for a moment.

"I will carry on her journey."

A silence followed. Then—

"So will I." Dahlia's voice echoed through the hall, tears falling down her cheeks, her hand rising.

Then Ansel. Then Theresa.

One by one, hands lifted in silent vow.

Massiah stepped down from the stage, his gaze lingering on each exterminator as they made their way forward, saying their own words before returning to their place.

He clenched his fists as Dahlia stepped up. She was crying as she spoke. He could barely listen.

Because underneath it all, buried beneath the grief and the pain, there was something darker.

A wish.

A wish that there were more human Myutants. That Diamantis had an army of friends. That he had thousands.

Because then, Massiah would have more of them to kill.

And he wasn't alone in that thought. He could see it—burning in the eyes of everyone else, hidden behind tears and shaking voices.

They had grieved. Now, all that was left was rage.

Everyone had spoken now.

Everyone except Sabrina.

She walked forward, her footsteps echoing through the hall. The casket stood before her, so empty yet so full. She reached out, her fingers grazing its surface, and a thought struck her.

What if she had let Raval burn?

Would it have been easier?

Would it have spared them this?

Her exterminators would call her crazy for thinking it. They'd tell her this was the job, that this was what they had signed up for. But she couldn't stand it anymore.

She was tired.

Tired of watching them die.

Tired of sending them to their deaths.

Tired of this pain that never faded.

She turned to them, swallowing back the doubt, burying it deep beneath the commander's mask she had worn for years.

"Diamantis, the controller of the human Myutant in Raval, is still alive." She spoke, the eyes of every exterminator locked on her. "That's the secondary reason I brought you all back. Because I believe they're coming for him."

She expected questions—concerns about the risk, about how dangerous this was.

Instead, she saw smiles.

They were ready.

"I don't know when they'll come. It could be a week, a month—but until then, no one will be sent too far. We need to—"

A siren blared.

Three rapid bursts.

Then again.

Myutant attack.

Sabrina's breath hitched. It hasn't happened in over a decade.

Which could only mean one thing.

"It seems it's today—" she started, but before she could finish, the exterminators were already moving.

Weapons sliding into their hands. Footsteps pounding against the floor.

"Someone's gonna die for my baby girl," Theresa snarled, slamming her fists together.

"Ross owed me ten thousand credits," Cillian muttered, cracking his neck. "Someone's paying it back in blood."

Sabrina outstretched her hand softly, trying to stop them. But she didn't.

She couldn't.

Because they wanted this.

She studied their faces one last time, searching for hesitation, for doubt. There was none. Dahlia wiped her tears and clenched her fists. Theresa cracked her knuckles, clasping her shield in her palm. Even the usually apathetic Cillian had a sharp edge in his eyes.

Still, she hesitated.

"Am I sending them to die again?"

The thought sank into her like a knife, twisting in old wounds that had never really healed.

Inaki, Ross, Quem. How many more names would she have to memorize? How many more graves would she stand in front of, hands clasped, unable to say anything that made it better?

Her lips parted. Maybe she should tell them to wait—to think, to plan, to breathe.

And yet—

She couldn't stop them.

Wouldn't stop them.

Because if she did—if she told them to wait, to think, to plan, to breathe—she wasn't sure they would listen.

She wasn't even sure she would.

She exhaled.

"Show them hell." Sabrina said with a grin.

"They're gonna wish it was hell." Vladimir said, headphones resting against his neck, his blade already in his hands.

In mere minutes the hall filled with hundreds of exterminators had emptied.

Massiah walked up, feet tapping against the floor. "I'm going too."

She grabbed his arm.

Dahlia and Ansel joined them. All five of them together again. Their gazes locked onto Massiah, hands slightly outstretched to stop him from leaving.

"You're injured," she said, turning to Gran. "We'll have the Third-Grades and below handle the evacuation, while anyone ranked higher deals with the Myutants. But you four aren't leaving this building."

Gran scoffed. "Gonna have to refuse that order, ma'am."

He turned, but Massiah had grabbed him by the shirt.

"Not you too, Mass," Gran murmured.

"Diamantis is still alive. They want him, right?" Massiah's said, a shrewd grin playing on the side of his lips. "Then let's go make sure their man is doing just fine."

Gran sighed, then smirked. "Fair enough."

Sabrina tapped her earpiece, static crackling through the line. There was nothing left to say—no speeches, no reassurances.

Just the words her exterminators had been waiting for.

"It seems our mutant friends have decided to bring the fight to us—looking to start a war."

She let out a soft laugh.

"Lets give them what they want!"