Junior tilted his head as he listened to the audio streamed by the laptop.
"Officials from the Republic of Rhaskos are declaring their most recent Integration response a qualified success," an announcer said. "The Ministry of Civic Order cites reduced civilian casualties and rapid containment of hostile manifestations."
They were having breakfast in Millie's small kitchen. A bowl of oatmeal slowly cooled in front of him, the faint scent of cinnamon rising with the steam. Achilles lay stretched out nearby, jaw resting on his paws, tail thumping lazily whenever Millie crossed the room.
"In particular," the audio continued in a drone just short of monotonous, "the Ministry of Civic Order's newest branch, the Bureau of Integration and Oversight, is officially commended for its role in the most recent crisis."
"Ugh," Millie grumbled. "Would it kill the Rhaskans to use an acronym for once?"
Junior paused, spoonful of oatmeal already partway to his mouth. "It's probably against the law or something," he responded dryly. Verbal quip delivered, the spoon completed its journey and he started to chew.
Millie snorted softly and leaned back against the counter, phone in hand. "The MCO already had most registered Reclaimed centralized under BIO oversight. Housing, monitoring, response protocols - all neatly boxed."
"So when monsters appeared …" Junior prompted.
"They showed up where the Reclaimed already were," Millie finished. "Civic Wardens on standby. White uniforms, clean lines, quick resolutions."
He didn't need to see the images to picture it. "And it worked," Junior grimaced faintly.
"From a purely tactical standpoint? Yeah. Monsters clustered, response times were short, and collateral damage was minimal. The MCO's been calling it proof of concept. People outside of Rhaskos are taking notes."
Junior's expression soured further. He put the latest spoonful of oatmeal back in the bowl.
Suddenly, he didn't feel so hungry anymore.
"It can't be that simple. What about the new Reclaimed?" Junior asked.
Millie nodded as she spoke. "That's where the narrative falls apart, at least a little. The second Integration created new Reclaimed: people who'd been unaffected until now, people outside the BIO registry. Reports from outside Rhaskos agree that more monsters manifested wherever the so-called second wave happened to be. It's not likely that Rhaskos was any different."
Junior's fingers tightened around the edge of the table as the audio droned on in the background, mostly forgotten.
"But they're still selling it as a success."
"Because compared to everyone else, it looks like one. A little less visible chaos. A tad fewer headline disasters."
Junior leaned back in his chair and sighed. "I understand the logic. I just don't like what it costs."
Millie watched him closely but didn't interrupt as he gathered his thoughts.
"They didn't give people a choice," he continued. "They decided Reclaimed were a systemic risk and treated them like one. Registered. Isolated. Managed. All wrapped up in words like oversight and protection."
"They'd call it unity of justice," Millie said dryly.
Junior let out a humourless breath. "Most existing Reclaimed didn't even have a second attack by monsters. I didn't. So they're enforcing control for a problem that wasn't universal."
Millie nodded slowly. "But the real question is: why?"
Junior shrugged helplessly. He'd been determined to get answers from Uncle Orestes, but perhaps he'd been a little naive. He had no real proof his uncle knew anything, just vague hopes and suspicions. But that was exactly the kind of rhetoric his uncle was known for. What made Junior think it was anything more substantial than wishful thinking this time?
Millie interrupted his thoughts that had gone off on a tangent.
"Why did monsters attack the new Reclaimed more than the old ones?" she asked, refocusing his attention. "Better still, why are there new Reclaimed at all?"
"Maybe everyone's going to be Reclaimed by the time the System is done with us," Junior said somewhat darkly. "That, or …"
He didn't finish the sentence and Millie didn't fill in the blank either. But they were both thinking of the unfortunate victims of monster attacks who hadn't survived.
"Yeah," Millie said in solemn agreement.
They sat in silence for a moment before she shook herself and resumed speaking more quietly than before.
"Anyways, the part about becoming Reclaimed sounds pretty good to me." Then she grimaced. "But the rest of the world is freaking out about exactly that possibility. You don't want to know what the more radical 'Reclaimed are a disease' crowd is suggesting these days."
Junior's expression darkened even further as he scowled openly.
"No, I don't," he said grimly. "Let's … not talk about them. Please."
"Okay," Millie agreed. "Then let's talk about the GCG forums. We should check them out. See if the Reclaimed we actually know got a second hit."
"Let's do it," he agreed. "The question's been bothering me a little. I got lucky. If it weren't for Sergeant Dwyer, things might have gone very differently for me. I hope everyone else is okay, too."
The GCG board was busier than Millie had ever seen it.
The number of posts had increased dramatically from when she'd last checked just a few days ago. More tellingly, a quick count revealed that the number of users had nearly doubled as well. A newly pinned post by delta.eel explained forum etiquette to the newcomers. Junior smiled nostalgically when Millie read it to him.
A pattern emerged, thin but persistent. Many older Reclaimed reported that, despite being revisited by some of their worst nightmares, things had been different this time around. Most acknowledged the last few weeks had helped them overcome whatever challenge they'd faced the second time around. A consensus was growing that their dreamed experiences had helped to save them, and Millie practically vibrated with eagerness to join in on all the discussions.
Even Junior had to admit he was pretty excited.
\ - / - \ - /
Junior was out walking Achilles when it suddenly occurred to him that he hadn't spoken to Esther in several days.
Junior slowed as Achilles paused to sniff insistently at a lamppost, the leash tugging gently against his wrist.
"Athena," Junior said quietly.
"Yes, Junior?"
"Call Esther."
There was a brief pause, then a soft tone.
"Calling Esther Mallory."
The ringing lasted longer than usual. Junior wondered if he'd misjudged the time; she might still be in class.
"Junior?" Esther's voice came through at last, warm but edged with mild surprise. "Is everything all right?"
"Yeah," he said quickly. "I just realized it's been a bit. Thought I should check in."
She laughed softly. "I appreciate that. You caught me between a parent email and a very serious debate about whether glitter counts as a colour or a lifestyle choice."
"That sounds… intense."
"You have no idea," Esther said dryly. "St. Genevieve's youngest are very passionate. And very sticky." They both laughed. "And you? How are you holding up?"
Junior hesitated, then chose honesty without detail. "It's been … busy. Weird. But I'm okay. I've got help."
"That's good," Esther said. Not probing. She never pushed unless she had to. "I was actually hoping to see you soon."
Junior blinked. "Oh?"
"Yes," she said, her tone shifting slightly. "I was going to suggest we talk in person. After school, maybe. There's something I'd rather not discuss over the phone."
That prickle of unease settled low in his chest.
"Is something wrong?"
"Not wrong," she said. "Just important. I'll be done at the school by four. We could meet after, if that works for you."
"Yes," Junior said without hesitation. "Of course."
"Good," Esther replied. "I'll see you then."
The call ended with a gentle chime.
He stood still for a moment, Achilles now sitting patiently at his side.
"Athena," Junior said.
"Yes, Junior?"
"Remind me I'm meeting Esther after four."
"Reminder set."
The rest of the walk passed uneventfully as he worried about what Esther wanted to say.
/ - \ - / - \
The café Esther had chosen was quiet in the late afternoon lull. Junior smelled the roasted beans and the cloying scent of almond syrup before he was even through the door. Achilles guided him with a steady, rhythmic pull, navigating the narrow gaps between tables.
Achilles slowed, then stopped, his tail giving a single, soft thump against a wooden chair leg. Junior caught the familiar, faint scent of Esther's citrus perfume and the dry warmth of her presence.
Before he could find his seat, hands settled on his shoulders. She pulled him into a firm hug, the fabric of her coat scratchy against his cheek.
"You're thinner," she said, her voice vibrating against his collarbone.
"You say that every time," Junior replied, though he leaned into the contact for a second longer than intended.
"And I'm usually right."
She guided his hand to the back of the chair. They sat, and Junior heard the soft click of her purse being set on the table. Esther ordered for both of them when the server approached; black coffee for her, a flat white for him. She didn't ask; she knew his palate better than he did.
For a few minutes, they talked about the surface of their lives. Students. Millie. Achilles, who let out a soft huff of satisfaction as he settled onto Junior's boots.
Then, the tone shifted. The porcelain mug clinked against the table; a deliberate, heavy sound.
"Junior," she said. Her voice had lost its lilt. "I need you to listen before you react."
Junior's stomach sank. He reached down, his fingers finding the soft, velvet fur of Achilles' ear, seeking an anchor. "That's never a good opening line."
"As you know," Esther continued, her voice steady. "I still see your mother regularly. I know you don't, and I've never begrudged you that. I understand why it's hard."
The word mother felt like a sudden drop in barometric pressure. Junior's world narrowed. He felt the air grow still, the hiss of the espresso machine suddenly sounding like static in his ears. His fingers curled tight against the edge of the laminate table.
He felt brittle, as if the slightest movement would make him shatter. He braced for the next blow, counting his own heartbeats.
"What did she want?" he finally asked. His voice sounded thin to his own ears.
Esther didn't answer immediately. He heard her take a slow breath, the soft rustle of her sleeve as she reached across the table; perhaps toward his hand, though she didn't touch him this time.
"She asked me to tell you," she said gently, "that she's Reclaimed now."