The device crackled to life in the quiet of the corridor. Wolfen leaned against the cold wall, his golden eyes fixed on nothing, the weight of Tube-Eva's words still pressing against his chest.
"Hey, 328."
A pause. Static. Then—
"You're alive." The voice that came through was sharp, worried, almost angry. "Why weren't you answering, you bastard? I've been—"
"Prime Architect 9," Wolfen interrupted quietly. "Is that what you wanted Eva to see in that room? In Vietnam?"
The silence on the other end stretched. When 328 spoke again, her voice was softer. "Yeah."
Wolfen closed his eyes. "I see. We met her. In a bunker. But I saw something in that room."
"What did you—" Static crackled, eating words. "...wolfen...wolfen...hello? You there? What happ—"
"Sorry," Wolfen said, opening his eyes. "I was thinking. Is there a way to save her?"
Another pause. Longer this time. When 328 spoke, her voice was heavy with something that sounded dangerously close to tears.
"Once... even once she was detached and reattached... she would die. No matter what. I'm so sorry, Wolfen."
Wolfen stared at the wall. The concrete was grey, featureless, utterly indifferent to the weight of extinction it witnessed.
"Hey." 328's voice cracked. "It's okay. It's—"
"You know," Wolfen interrupted, his voice oddly gentle, "I never apologized for slashing your arm. I'm sorry for that."
A wet, surprised laugh came through the speaker. "What are you talking about? I told you to do that."
"Yeah. Still sorry." A pause. "How's the new arm doing?"
"It's fine." Another crackle of static. "But... are you okay?"
Wolfen looked down at his hands—hands that had forged Umbralite, summoned fire, and could do nothing to save a woman in a glass tube who wore his friend's face.
"No," he said quietly.
The device went dark in his hand. The conversation was over.