Juston should’ve responded by now, but ever since they lost communication, their whole mission has been frozen in place. “Just wait,” Arrow tells her, twisting knobs and punching code into his computer. “Silence doesn’t mean failure. There’s a million and one ways to lose communication.”“Okay,” sighs Cintha. We ought to be heading back. The Weapon isn’t here, it’s obvious. We’ve been tracking it for hours now, and my brother’s still—“Just give it some more time.” Arrow narrows his eyes, focused on the screen and typing, typing, typing away. Cintha hugs her knees, trying not to lose her breakfast on the computer. “Your brother is fine,” Arrow states suddenly without a speck of evidence to support him but the phone call. “He’s in the seventh and they’re safely making their way home on the subterranean. Effectively, we’re in more danger than he is now, considering.” He makes a careless wave of his hand toward the window where, in the neighboring apartment complex, Juston and Prat are searching for and securing the Weapon.
