------- He wanted nothing more than to barricade himself in his office and drown himself in busy work and whiskey. However, the hacker had been ordered to keep security cameras up and running despite the city’s blackout. He had provided the Cessations who stepped out into the chaos with an assortment of small arms and explosives. The fact that they had all been made by Quentin’s own hand made it all the more frustrating---he did not wish to kill people out there who, ironically, would no sooner kill him than ask him for the time of day. None of this was his fight; it had never been his war. He only fought to survive.
With a huffed sigh, he sank lower into his desk chair. Green eyes followed the blips and movement on the monitors, keeping automatic track of potential threats to the Cessations who stalked the streets in search of hostages. He did not even flinch as he saw one of them shoot down a victim at point-blank range. Another weary sigh left his parted lips and he looked away as the Cess kicked the stilled body in a fit of rage. They needed serious help. The worst part was that Quentin found himself wondering whether their madness had captured him by now, whether it would always follow him for the rest of life.
He rubbed blearily at his eyes, squinting at another monitor and shooting a quick glance at the door as someone knocked quietly.
“Door’s open,” he called, propping his chin on his fist and fighting back a yawn.
