Ruptured Mind 2 (Ever-changing Title)

Author's notes:

One word describes this chapter - rough.

Changes: This is now their first day working here - so no parking every day in the same location. And the headsets? Those are gone, too (could bring attention to them). Anything else was either unintentional or I forget to mention it. :p Enjoy, and thanks for reading. <3

Tristen looked around the familiar building, nodding at the few people he recognized and surveying every inch of the colossal room before them. He didn’t know who he was looking for—security, do-gooders or police. There was a sense he felt when seeing someone suspicious, an inkling that tapped his mind like an annoying voice, whispering to him to bring his attention to certain security or librarians.

No senses tingled. All was well.

He continued into the light, stepping past the—

Zah still stood by the door, tourists and bookworms bumping his shoulders as they passed. His eyes were fixed to the high arches surrounding the sky-high dome above them. The sun blazed through the immense windows in each arch, throwing rays in crossing directions all about the library like flashing lights. Tristen had no doubt that a jet could fly through the expanse before them.

He forced his way through the tourists back to Zah, who remained frozen in stunned silence. Bumping him on the shoulder, he gestured to the room. “You like it?”

Zah breathed out. “I hate it.” He pointed to the statues below the arches, the books adorning every shelf, the hundreds of people walking and laughing in tiptoes around the library. “Tristen, do that to this place? It’d feel like I’m, well, you know, bro.”

“But if you don’t—”

“I know what would happen to me.” Zah made a slitting motion across his throat. “Doesn’t sound like a very cool way to go.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, sniffed his nose. “I’ll hate every minute of it, but let’s do it, dude.”

Tristen nodded and turned without saying anything. There were always those moments where people weren’t sure if their direction was where they belonged, when a nudge in the right direction was needed. Tristen didn’t need the push—not now, not ever again. With her gone, there was no need to push him in any new directions, no need to change his mind.

Zah caught up to him, navigating his way through the circles of desks and nerds bent over their books towards him. “So, dude,” he whispered. “Today is surveillance only. See what’s going on, you know?”

“Yes, I remember.” Tristen stepped outside the outer circle, and walked around the perimeter of the dome, glancing through the arches around it as they passed the art gallery, lined with ancient paintings tucked behind glass. He made a mental note to search them later on for anything that’d hinder them—people or object. A suspicious librarian was the last thing he wanted following them around.

“Everyone is so oblivious here,” Zah commented. He jerked a finger to a teenager walking in front of them, eyes and thumbs glued to his phone. “He’s going to, like, walk into a wall or something.”

“One less kid to deal with.”

Tristen was used to Zah’s incessant chatter after months of working with him, but it still grated on his nerves. Moments like this were reserved for evaluating the building and deciding the method of destruction it needed. With Zah chattering at every possible moment with his fake American speech, it was difficult to take in anything save for what he pointed out.

“Upstairs, dude?”

Tristen dug his hands into his short pockets, clenching and unclenching his fists while he made his way around the room to the stairs on the opposite end, a staircase wider than his apartment and twice as long, ascending to the next level with unrestrained dignity. Zah trailed behind, throwing comments about the building and the art on the stair sides, the intricate swirls and figures carved into the wood, still beautiful after a hundred years.

“Right there.” Zah pointed to the center of the room at a main desk, surrounded by the others circling around it. A single old woman sat there, thumbing through a book and glaring at anyone who creaked the ancient desks. “Center of the room, the middle of everything.”

“You’re saying we have to put it there?” Tristen gave where he pointed a long look, then sniffed with a shake of the head. “It’s going to be near impossible to put one there, Zah. You know that.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Zah shrugged, leaning over the railing with one hand still clutching the white pillar beside him. “But otherwise, the, blast—”

“So what do you think about the architecture?” Tristen stepped around Zah, kicking his shin in passing as a reminder—shut up before someone hears.

“Dude… the what?” Zah screwed his face into a questioning look. “The texture on the arches looks just fine, bro. I mean, yeah, a bit old, but—”

Tristen allowed his words to fade into the back of his mind, bringing his full presence into focus on the building before strangulation became too inviting. Zah said the ideal location was the center, but to get the device into or even close to the desk would be a challenge. Sneaking something in that far, and making it appear innocent seemed impossible. Zah had proven his worth, proven his capabilities at planting a device without the slightest trace of suspicion.

“Know what you’re doing now?” he asked.

Zah took one last look at the center desk, nodding his head at the library staff around it, as though counting. “It’s all in here.” He poked the side of his head. “The only problem is that, like, it’s all scrambled up in there. Going to take time, plans, and more nonsense. You know how it goes.”

“Yes, it takes a while before everything sorts out.” Tristen leaned against the pillar and scanned the crowds walking around the lower level, taking note of each security guard standing by the doors and randomly throughout the building. “Sometimes months.”

“Now that’s depressing, man.” Zah frowned and headed back towards the stairs to the bottom floor, bouncing down the stairs and around tourists climbing up. “Let’s get out of here. I’ve seen all I need to see.”

“You sure?” Tristen followed him at more controlled walk, sliding his hand down the railing. More security officers stood around the bottom of the stairway, watching them all. He tried to keep his eyes up and out of their line of sight, taking in the beauty of the building rather than certain occupants, the milky-white of the pillars rather than the jet-black of the pistols on their hips.

His phone vibrated through his flimsy shorts, and he pulled it out thinking it was his alarm telling him it was time for work—just a few minutes late. The notification on the screen took his breath away.

See me at my office – Mr. P

He ignored the pounding in his chest, the questions rising like a flash flood, and glanced up at Zah, who stood by. “There’s been a change of plan."