The checkered floor brightened slightly, the ceiling dimmed, as if reality itself tilted toward the sound of CORE's voice. The cameras adjusted, every lens narrowed.
"We all know why you're here," CORE said lightly, as if humoring a group of children. "So let's skip the theatrics. I'm curious about only one thing…"
There was a short pause, almost playful.
"…Which one of you is the genius I've heard so much about?"
He sounded calm and genuinely amused.
"Don't be shy," he continued. "I can see you all."
The cameras shifted, adjusting their gaze like eyes narrowing. The room felt smaller, it felt colder.
Then CORE stopped.
"Ah."
His tone sharpened, not louder, but heavier.
"Now that is… surprising."
Micheal stiffened.
"So," CORE said slowly, savoring the words, "it really is you. MR1."
Murmurs flickered among the rebels. Some froze. Others exchanged glances.
CORE chuckled softly.
"After all these years… after all those experiments… to finally confirm it worked. A man sent across time itself… only to eventually walk right back into the hands of his king."
Micheal felt the room tilt, not physically, but emotionally. It felt like gravity trying to pull him down.
He forced his jaw to tighten. "You're not my king."
CORE hummed like a parent tolerating a tantrum.
"I'm not ruled by a 'king,'" Micheal snapped. "I was led by a real leader. A real man who cared. Mr. Jones."
A silent, heavy moment stretched.
Then CORE exhaled softly.
"…Get over it, MR1."
Micheal flinched.
"I said—" he shouted, "my name is Micheal!"
The room echoed with it.
CORE smiled.
"Micheal."
He rolled the name off his tongue.
Then he laughed.
It was amused, pitying, utterly confident.
"Names," CORE said, voice smooth again, "are such fragile things. You cling to them when you have nothing else left to hold on to. But names don't make you who you are."
The floor hummed louder beneath them. Cameras tilted closer.
"Choices do."
He leaned closer to the microphone, his voice lowering into something colder.
"And you, Micheal… have made quite a few."
The rebels stood frozen.
Shirley swallowed.
Tucker's fists tightened.
Madison's smug expression faded.
ZE210's eyes flickered, like he already sensed something dangerous approaching.
CORE's tone shifted into something almost conversational.
"So," he said softly, "shall we talk about them?"
The room felt like a courtroom.
And CORE was both judge and executioner.
" …Micheal," he repeated again, tasting the name like it was foreign to him. "Such a small name for someone who's caused such… very large problems."
The rebels stiffened.
Tucker's hands curled into fists.
Shirley's cleaver hand tightened just a little.
Micheal didn't back away, but he didn't step forward either.
CORE's voice softened to a patient hum.
"Relax. All of you. I didn't come to fight," he said, conversational, polite even. "If I wanted you dead… you wouldn't be standing in that room. You'd be gutted out, brains blown, and all ten of your fingers broken."
Madison's jaw clenched. "Then why are you talking?"
CORE tilted his head slightly on the monitor.
"Because it would be rude not to greet guests."
He let silence linger long enough to feel intentional.
Then, like an afterthought, he said:
"And because I'm curious what stories Micheal has been telling you."
Micheal's breath hitched.
Shirley glanced at him.
Tucker's eyes flicked sideways.
ZE210's shoulders stiffened.
CORE snapped his fingers softly against the microphone.
"Let's begin with something simple," he said. "You accuse me of tyranny, of cruelty, of slavery, of ruling without care."
His tone didn't rise.
It never needed to.
"Everything I've done," he continued calmly, "has been for a reason."
Madison stepped forward. "Turning people into workers who never get to rest is not a reason."
"Oh, but it is," CORE replied smoothly. "The Land of Flames was dying long before I arrived. They were hungry, chaotic, no sense of direction. People tearing each other apart with no structure. No purpose. So I gave them stability. I gave them work. I gave them a system. Order."
He smiled faintly.
"And you call it slavery because you do not understand sacrifice."
Tucker scoffed. "You brainwash kids."
"No," CORE corrected gently. "I prepare them. You think people survive this world by kindness? Do you think hope alone feeds cities? Of course you do. You're children. You get to believe in sweet fantasies."
His attention shifted.
"Isn't that right… Micheal?"
Micheal didn't respond.
His breathing was heavier now.
CORE leaned slightly closer to his mic.
"You would all like to believe he is the noble hero here. The kind guardian. The man who simply 'fell into time' and decided to save you out of the goodness of his heart. But Micheal has always been selfish. He has always chosen himself first. He leaves when things get bad."
Tucker frowned. "Shut up. You don't know—"
"Oh but I do," CORE interrupted, almost tender. "Let's talk about how he escaped Choreees the first time, shall we? Good thing we caught him."
Micheal's eyes widened.
Shirley's head snapped toward him.
CORE's voice smoothed into something almost silky.
"He stole," CORE said. "A boat, supplies, food, fuel. Equipment meant for hundreds of citizens. Meant for evacuations. Meant to save lives."
The rebels stiffened with quiet shock.
"And he ran," CORE continued, not even sounding angry, simply factual. "He ran because he didn't want to die with them. He ran because their suffering wasn't worth his life."
Micheal swallowed.
"That's not— They were already gone— I—"
"And in running," CORE continued calmly, "he left behind an entire community. People calling out for help. People begging."
His eyes darkened.
"And Doug died because of him."
Madison's breath hitched.
ZE210's jaw clenched.
"You remember, don't you?" CORE asked softly. "Your friend. The one who trusted you. Who followed you. Who believed you'd save them. And instead… you doomed him. Because you let your own stubborn desires get ahead of you instead of obeying."
Micheal's hands shook.
"Stop," he whispered.
CORE didn't.
"And the Selection?" he continued. "They told you Micheal survived through courage. No, no. He survived because he let someone else break."
Evander's name didn't need to be spoken.
It hung there anyway.
"He fought, he bled and screamed." CORE hummed. "Micheal chose himself. And Evander was beaten to a pulp before Micheal could walk out."
The room went silent.
Tension swallowed air.
Shirley stared straight ahead.
Tucker looked down.
Micheal couldn't breathe.
"And then," CORE continued like this was simply conversation, "after everything he caused… he took two children, unsupervised, unprepared, endangered constantly, and sent them into conflict after conflict because he needed to feel like he could fix the life he ruined."
His voice finally gained weight.
"Kids, Every risk you've taken. Every injury. Every fight you nearly didn't walk away from."
He paused, went to a sink nearby, quickly washed his hands then dried them.
"That blood isn't on me."
He didn't raise his voice.
He didn't need to.
"It's on him."
Silence spread.
Micheal's voice cracked.
"I was trying to protect them—!"
"And Mr. Jones?" CORE cut back in sharply, for the first time sounding slightly cruel. "Your beloved leader? The man you cling to like a shield? He died because you refused to stop pushing. Because you never knew when to stop trying to be important."
Micheal staggered.
Like someone hit him.
CORE leaned back slightly.
"And now Cael is injured. Asura is barely breathing. Choreees is destabilized. The mall, destroyed. Civilians terrified. And all of it… comes back to you."
His gaze scanned the room.
"I know your not the genius Micheal," CORE said. "But it definitely isn't the blonde kid. Destroyed a mall, ran, interfered in a battle between the two strongest protectors of Choreees, injured them. But whoever this genius is… meet me at the top."
Micheal's voice came out small.
"…I didn't mean for any of this."
"I know," CORE said softly. "That's what makes it tragic."
A long silence followed.
Shirley and Tucker didn't look at him.
Madison didn't speak.
ZE210 didn't move.
CORE straightened.
"And yet," he finished almost casually, "I'm expected to let him wander free. To allow rebels to destroy infrastructure. To allow two children to commit federal assault against government officials. Someone has to pay. Someone has to be responsible."
His tone icily sharpened.
"And it will be him."
He let the weight of that sit.
Then his voice smiled.
"But… this has been enlightening."
The cameras adjusted.
The lights dimmed further.
"I'll let you sit with that," CORE murmured. "Doubt tends to echo louder in silence."
The feed flickered.
His figure leaned back from the mic.
"And Micheal?"
Micheal slowly lifted his head.
"Find your feet before you sink," CORE whispered.
"You're twisting everything," Micheal spat. "You're not saving anyone. You're turning them into tools. You're forcing them to worship you."
CORE hummed thoughtfully.
"Funny you'd say that," he replied, tone suddenly sharper. "Coming from you."
The room stiffened.
Micheal froze.
"…What?" Shirley asked quietly.
CORE didn't hesitate.
"Shall we truly talk about monsters?" he asked softly.
"Because if we are… then let us talk about Micheal."
Then, a vase flew overhead and hit the screen. Every head flicked back, it was Micheal who had thrown the vase. He stood there, breathing deeply.
He stood there, chest rising and falling hard, fists trembling at his sides. The screen flickered twice. Then went black completely.
Silence swallowed the room.
Just the hum of lights and the pounding of too many hearts.
Shirley swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.
Tucker shifted his weight, glancing sideways at Micheal, then at the rebels, then back again.
Madison stepped forward slowly. "Micheal… what was that about?"
Micheal didn't answer. He dragged a hand through his hair, face tight, eyes watery with anger and something worse than fear.
ZE210 stared at him. "Was… any of that true?"
The words hit like bullets.
Every eye turned to Micheal.
He froze.
Shirley's voice was quieter. "The boat. The supplies. Evander. Mr. Jones. All of that. Was he lying?"
Micheal opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Tucker let out a shaky breath. "Tell us he's lying. Just say it."
Micheal looked at them, his boys, the kids he held like family, the people who trusted him when they had nobody else.
He couldn't.
His jaw trembled. His eyes flicked away.
That was the answer.
Shirley's chest tightened. His fingers curled unconsciously around the handle of his cleaver.
"So you ran," Shirley said quietly. "You stole. You left people behind. You lied. And then you brought us here and—"
"I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT ELSE TO DO!" Micheal snapped.
His voice cracked across the room like glass.
Everyone flinched.
Micheal forced himself to breathe. "I didn't… I didn't know. I was trying to survive. I was trying to get away from him. From CORE. From everything. I didn't have a choice."
"That's funny," Tucker muttered. "Because that's exactly what he said, too."
Micheal froze.
The silence that followed wasn't loud.
It was heavy.
Madison broke it, voice rough. "What matters now is we move. Standing around arguing while CORE watches us like fish in a tank is exactly what he wants."
ZE210 nodded slowly. "He's going to make his next move. We needa to make ours first."
Micheal swallowed hard. His voice steadied a little, not calm, but functioning. "You're right."
He turned to Madison and ZE210.
"I need you both to head out. Find Doug. Find as many citizens as you can, rebels too. Anyone who can still move. We get boats. We get people ready. We leave Choreees the first chance we get."
Madison hesitated. "And if CORE blocks the ports?"
"Then we make another way," Micheal said. "We're not dying here."
ZE210 nodded, though the look he gave Micheal wasn't the same as before. Not trusting. Not admiring.
Just… uncertain.
Madison squeezed Micheal's hand once, hesitant reassurance, then turned and motioned to the rebels. "Move out! Spread in squads! Eyes open!"
Shoes thundered, voices rose, orders echoed.
Soon it was only Micheal, Shirley, Tucker, and the fading sound of people leaving.
The boys didn't look at him right away.
Micheal finally spoke, voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm still on your side," he said. "No matter what he twisted. No matter what I did. I promise you, I'm still with you. Your still my boys, right?"
Shirley didn't answer.
Tucker forced a shaky smile that didn't look real. "Yeah. Cool. Great. Let's… just get out of this creepy chess office first."
They moved.
Together.
But not the same.