It was quiet in Prime Hill. Everyone sat, the Groundhogs with Xole one side, Mr. Holdover on the other, with Patchwork in the middle applying the last strips of bandages on Shakar, Salamander, and Trix.

  “Y’know,” the doctor said looking at the young man. “You’d heal much quicker if you’d let me use my needles.”

  “And like I said before I prefer to avoid the ‘sterilized’ metal if possible,” Shakar replied. Trix rolled her eyes while Patchwork just shook his head. He cleared the two Groundhogs to go but motioned to Shakar.

  “Don’t strain it, don’t touch it, and especially don’t remove it for the next…so say, eight—ten days.” He said.

  “Eight to ten days?”

  The doctor looked back at his clipboard, “Uh no…eighteen days to repair all internal damage without Gi. Now get up.”

  Abbas watched Shakar move to Mr. Holdover’s side of the room, where he stood with his arms folded. He shook his head, “Mr. Washington, isn’t this rather excessive?”

  “No.”

  The room went silent once more. Snap looked around nervously, “Heh, I’ll bet Spit-Take’s real lucky getting to skip this one, eh? Heh, heh, heh…”

  “…”

  Xole went to the middle of the room and threw his arms up, “Ok, this isn’t gonna help anyone! What happening? What did Mr. Holdover find? What happened with Shakar? And why were those three up there?”

  The large man sighed.

  “Don’t do it Abbas!” Salamander said. “You don’t owe dese chumps nothin’!”

  The large men put his hand up, then, folded them over his cane. “Snap, show them it. Red Wednesday.”

  “Abbas…” Snap said.

  “Now, please.”

  The young man reached for the monitor. His fingers hovered over the keys before typing away. Pictures filled the screen, showcasing hundreds of dead bodies in a heavily damaged Haven, and in the center stood a man, two intestines shooting from his torn shirt.

  “Ah, so that was him,” Shakar said.

  “‘Him?’” Xole said. He looked closely at the man’s Collar, “Is that…?”

  “Yes,” Abbas said, “That man is a Red Collar, an employee of the government.”

  The Groundhogs were quiet, almost in guilt. Xole began to sweat, “B-but how’d he find you guys?”

  “He was tipped off,” Abbas said, his eyes fixed on the image, “We nearly lost all our fighters that day, it was a massacre. Then, he showed up.”

  Snap went to the next set of images, it showed the Groundhogs led by Abbas, all battling him, struggling until a thin young pale man with a hat held up a piece of paper with one hand while his pencil stroking across it with his other. The next image showed the Red Collar on the Ground, his intestines gone and bleeding everywhere. Mr. Holdover leaned forward, “Hey is that…?”

  “Yes,” Abbas said. “D. Clark was once a Groundhog.” He paused, staring at the image of all of them together. He then turned to Mr. Holdover and Xole, “As well as my son.”

  Xole gawked, mouth wide and eyes bulged. Shakar blinked. Mr. Holdover, however, remained stone faced.

  “Oh, really?” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “Yeah, nice try.”

  “This is no lie.”

  “…Oh,” he put his hands on his hips and paced, then a fist to his mouth while dropped his head and paced again. He shook his head, “So then what?”

  Abbas exchanged a glance with Patchwork and sighed. “Well I came to find—”

  “WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!” Mr. Holdover boomed, causing the doctor to jump. He looked around, losing track of Abbas before remembering where the large man’s couch was. “Y-you’re kid had Spiritual Talent?! Then why’d you want boys’ so damn bad?! You’ve got a perfectly good one right there!”

  “You don’t get it.” Patchwork said, “D. Clark was…”

  “A mistake,” Trix finished, “He was the result of us being far too overzealous at the time.” She glanced at Abbas who had his head down, then back at them, “Never again.”

  “But it’s not too late right?” Xole said, “I mean this D. Clark guy, whatever issue you had with him, and I’m guessing whatever he stole, you can make up for it right? I mean, Abbas, he is your son after all.”

  The man looked unfazed. “What of it?”

  Xole was stunned, “Uh, well it’s just that I’m a…little envious of him.” He looked down, “I never really knew my own folks, and the one person I had left when I needed her the most…” he looked back at him, “But it doesn’t have to be like that!”

  Salamander sighed and lit a cigar, “Kid, ya young, so young now ya got me feelin’ a lil’ jealous.”

  “What do you mean?” Xole said, he looked at the rest of them, “Guys you said it yourself, if there’s a chance—”

  “Young one,” Abbas said, “D. Clark—even from the beginning—was abnormal. I only knew him from afar as his mother and I were separated. But whenever I saw him, he would ask me to look at his drawings and I…I was always puzzled by them. You see he would draw things I’d either never seen, or just seen. I once dreamt of this enormous building, so tall I couldn’t even see the top. The next day, D would show me a drawing of a similar building, so tall it didn’t fit the page.”

  The man paused. Mr. Holdover looked at him, “Is that when you realized his Talent was different?”

  *Clarify Abbas’s role in family (Keep the Elsbeth Idea?)

  “…Yes.” Abbas said. “I was confused but not surprised. I myself was once from a wealthy family. However, the life was never interested in me, nor was I in it. People would flock to me like insects to honey, here today and gone tomorrow...not even my own family was an exception.” He smiled, “So, I sold off every single thing I’ve ever owned and my family’s assets and invested it into the establishment of Haven.” His arm gestured, “Where I’d meet my real family.”

  Xole watched him glance down. This time he seemed to daze off. “Hey,” he said, “that’s not true.” He pointed to the screen, “He still came back.”

  Abbas looked at Xole, then the rest. “Yes. One day, after a night of patrolling I was approached by this…adolescent, begging me for help.” His fingers clenched. “I almost didn’t even recognize him. He was covered in tattoos and had gotten so pale, and so very thin. But it was after he showed me a drawing of a worn hat…the same hat I wore ever since starting up Haven, that I knew he was my son.”

  He dipped his chin and rubbed his eyes. The sound of the monitor flickered. The room waited for him to continue.

  “After taking him in, I came to realize why he needed my help. He’d become consumed by his Talent. The Groundhogs and I began to notice how often he’d neglect food and sleep just to draw—only to then tear those drawings up and repeat. I decided I’d record everything; his habits, Gi, power, and keep it in a notebook, hoping to give it to him when I better understood myself. But it was along and slow process. He never knew why he did the things he did, and when he asked me for answers, I—” his voice cracked, “I could never give him any.”

  “Abbas, that’s enough.” Patchwork said, “These guys get the gist.”

  “Do you have a better understanding now?” Trix asked.

  “Yeah,” Xole, agreed. “Sorry. I know this’s personal. Too personal for—”

  “I’m not quite satisfied.” Shakar said. Everyone’s faces shot in the younger man’s direction. Mr. Holdover raised an eyebrow to the younger man but he ignored it all, “Abbas, since you’ve said today is going to be our last day here, than you at least owe us the conclusion behind this ‘Red Wednesday’ and why this ‘Clark’ fellow is such a heavy topic.” He shrugged, “Because frankly, at the moment, I don’t know enough to care.”

  “Shut up!!” Snap cried. “You shut your mouth you hear?! Weren’t ya listening? Abbas’s done so much for us all, sacrifices everything he has to keep this place runnin’!” He pointed at Shakar, his eyes red and wet. “It’s people like you the reason he down here in the first place! I thought you were different! I thought…I didn’t even know you…”

  “Snap,” Trix pulled him into a hug. Salamander pointed his cigar at the younger man, stone faced.

  “I don’t wanna hear anotha word from ya mouth,” he growled in a low voice, “Ya understand, fool?”

  Shakar put his hands up.

  “No, he is correct,” Abbas said. He adjusted himself in the couch. “One afternoon we received an alert, a code Alpha. At the time, we didn’t know what it was, but later we’d learned that someone had sent an alert to the authorities about us but instead of a normal squad of Blue Collars showing up, it was single man wearing red.” He looked back to the screen and gestured with his cane, “The rest is history as you can see. He killed many of us and for a moment, I thought it would be our end. But then D did something unbelievable. He drew onto the Red Collar’s Bodily Talent, and then sealed it within his paper, tearing the man’s intestines out. The day was saved.”

  Xole listened in awe, ‘With Spiritual Talent?’ “That’s amazing,” he said, “like you mentioned earlier—like he already knew!”

  “Because, young one, he did.” Abbas looked at Xole, “D. Clark is the one who tipped off the Red Collar.”

  Mr. Holdover’s mind clicked, ‘The bank! The buyer—!’ He then remembered the date, ‘Wait, then what would his goal now be?’

  From the corner of his eye, he was surprised to see Shakar with a foreign looking glare on his face. Unsurprisingly though, Xole looked mortified.

  “But…but why?”

  “He admitted it after the battle.” He replied getting up from his seat and walking across the room, “He claimed with the right push, the right motivation, he could finally begin to find the answers he’d always looked for… and to an extent, he was right. It was one of the few drawings he hadn’t torn up. The look of joy on his face....” he stared out the window, “so I disowned him, allowing him to stay as a stranger from now on.”

  “But,” Xole said, “everyone else…”

  “Keeps their distance,” Trix said, “He’s had his fair share of beatings from the population—rightfully so. Now, not even the animals go near him.”

  Abbas took a breath. “So what he stole from us that day wasn’t anything to be taken back, it was our ability to trust.”

  The room was quiet again, even more so this time. Now the monitor didn’t even hum, leaving everyone to ponder what was said.

  “This doesn’t make sense,” Mr. Holdover said, “How the hell he contact a Red in the first place?”

  If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  “It was rather ominous,” Patchwork said, “We asked him the same thing,” he glanced at Abbas, then, went over and unlocked a drawer under the monitor, taking out a sheet of paper and showing it to them. “And he showed us this.”

  The three looked. It was a drawing of a building, so tall it didn’t fit the page.

  Xole’s face scrunched, puzzled. He glanced to Shakar, who looked entranced. Even his demeanor had changed. Mr. Holdover however stared at the image for so long he almost forgot to breathe. He spun back, “Ok next question, where is this place? Where the hell did this Red Collar come from?”

  Abbas raised himself up and eyed every single groundhog in the room. He then looked back at Xole, Shakar, and Mr. Holdover. “Are you three familiar with the name M.I.R.S?”

  Xole’s body instinctively tensed, Yesfir’s text flashed through his head. Even Shakar’s brow furrowed at the name. Mr. Holdover, however, stared ahead. Xole looked at Shakar, then at Abbas. “Yeah, but it was disbanded after the atomic bomb, right?”

  “That’s what was presumed,” Shakar said.

  Abbas shook his head, “Your assumption is M.I.R.S was established in placement of an atomic force. What you must realize is it was created in addition to the CSA’s arsenal.”

  “What?” Xole said.

  “The idea of Talented fighting for their countries in conflicts grew less common as technology progressed. Perhaps at one time the biggest muscles won the battle. Then naturally, it became the biggest gun. The CSA—at the time USA—however, decided to revisit that old idea.”

  “Are you referring to their stalemate with Japan?” Shakar asked.

  “That theory…” Abbas said, “No, Talented individuals were used far before that. In the early stages of the war, before they were even involved, the US began mysteriously drafting handfuls of people—often with bribes or threats. Shortly after, Pearl Harbor would be attacked and the draftees were organized into the first private Talented militia to fight for the state.”

  “This…” Shakar began, throwing a glance Mr. Holdover’s way, “seems a bit far-out even by your standards, don’t you think?”

  The older man’s eyes stared ahead but his mind was clearly someplace else. “Go on,” he said

  “This unit,” Abbas continued,” was finalized into what’s now called M.I.R.S. A branch of Collared workers who specialize in tracking down other Talent users for the now established, CSA, or as you know, the Collective States of America.”

  Xole felt as if he were punched in the stomach, ‘like those guys at the parlor and the woman at Amesworth! Wait, does that mean…’

  Shakar’s gaze narrowed. “Assuming you took this from that Red Collar, Willsworth, what gives this claim validity in the chance he was either lying or had no idea what he was talking about?”

  “We ran background and DNA checks.” Patchwork said, “Even if he was lying—which I highly doubt based on the level of detail—this Red Collar came from a line of White Collared wealth, he’d have to be well educated. Not to mention his description of their base of operations also matches D. Clark’s drawing perfectly.”

  “And,” Trix added, “M.I.R.S’s secret history was common knowledge amongst the expanded Network before we interrogated the Red. We used that to cross-reference.”

  Shakar’s ears perked, ‘Expanded Network?’

  From the corner of his eye, Xole caught Mr. Holdover walking to the edge of the room. He kicked a trash can over, “FUCK!”

  “Ya betta pick dat up!” Salamander called.

  Xole watched him lean against the wall, squeezing his temples. He then looked back to the drawing of the wall, staring hard at it.

  ‘I believe with your Talent, young one, we can not only take back our city and rescue our missing brothers, but topple the powers at be.’

  ‘Powers at be…’ He glanced back, “Abbas, what’s your real goal here?”

  Everyone in the room looked at the older boy. Then, Abbas stood up and went to the monitor. Snap quickly shifted out the way so the large man could type away at the keyboard, pulling up a massive building on the screen. It was low to mid rise, tired in design with seven floors moving towards its center, widest at its base. Its exterior showed maroon red walls, fading to black at its top center with the country’s flag at the top. Abbas turned to the three and tapped the image with his cane.

  “Here.” He said.

  “…” Xole stared blankly. For some reason, his chest felt tight, “What’s that?”

  “That,” Abbas said, “is the Heptagon. The hive to our oppression.”

  “This is rather…odd to say the least.” Shakar said, “I was under the impression after its destruction during the Big One, the Heptagon’s current status became more of a tourist attraction. History and relics all to be monetized and that garbage.” His index and thumb touched his chin, “Never would I expect it to still be in use after almost seventy years.”

  “I didn’t believe it myself at first.” Abbas said, “But upon going there myself and touching that wall…it was if I was in that dream again.”

  “Yup, before security kicked us out.” Salamander added.

  Mr. Holdover turned back, “You guys wanna topple the Heptagon? The biggest government facility on the world?”

  “Not immediately,” Trix said, “Getting more man power is the first part, hence why we wish you and your ‘friend’ could’ve at least concluded your investigation on the disappearing homeless before this happened. That way we could’ve gathered more men.”

  “You know why,” Shakar said.

  The woman said nothing more. Salamander glared at him.

  “Would that really be enough though?” Xole asked.

  “Kid, we’ll be A-Okay!” The chain smoker said. “Besides, we got—I mean we can train ya anyway.”

  “No, no, that’s not a reason!” Xole said, “We’ve seen what these guys can do! The Network was right, they’re too strong and you guys are—!”

  “Young One,” Abbas said. “Did you not hear what he just said? We have you.”

  “I…” Xole said, looking down, “I just don’t want to let you guys down again…this is too much.” He looked at the Groundhogs, eyes wide, “Don’t you get it?! We’d die! The Network was right; you guys need to get out—!”

  Suddenly, a hand smacked the back of his head. Snap walked in front of him. Xole could see the younger man looked a bit shaken but still smiled at him.

  “Did anyone ever tell you that you worry too much?” he said, “You’ve got a rare opportunity, Xole. Don’t waste it by putting yourself down.”

  ‘But don’t for a second berate yourself.’ Mr. Holdover’s words echoed through Xole’s head.

  “The boy ain’t doing all that shit!” Mr. Holdover’s words snapped Xole from his delusion. “Your whole plan sounds like shit!”

  “Fascinating,” Abbas said. He traded a glance with the other Groundhogs. “And here I assumed you were against the higher powers.”

  “Tubby, don’t play that shit with me.” He warned, “You know damn well tossing a kid out there is some selfish-ass shit!”

  “I don’t think so,” Xole said.

  “Cause your dumbass doesn’t know better!” he shot back.

  “So you’re with them, then?” Trix asked.

  “G-ga-GAH—!” His knees buckled and he grabbed the sides of his head, feeling his eyes bulge. “Do you know…how stupid you all sound?!! These M.I.R.S fucks know what you’re up to!!”

  “Patchwork squinted, “And how would they know that?”

  “Cause you don’t just knock off one of their own and expect no retaliation—especially with a Red!” his hand gripped his side, grabbing for the nonexistent file. His neck craned, forcing a breath, “Look, you just need to trust me on this. You dumbasses put this whole damn place on a fucking time limit!”

  “We don’t fear them,” Abbas said, “Unlike you.”

  The other Groundhogs smiled. Mr. Holdover could only roll his eyes with a strained breath. Xole shook his head. “Mr. Holdover—”

  “Nah, fuck this,” the man said. He looked at the room, “Fuck all of you! Fuck you’re crazy ass plan! I’m out.”

  The doctor exchanged a glance with the other Groundhogs. Xole reached out

  “Mr. Holdover!”

  Before he could take the handle, a large hand took his shoulder. He didn’t need to look back to know who it was.

  “However, before you make up your mind,” Abbas spoke, “There’s something I wish for you all to see…”

  “No!” Trix cried, “Melmar! What happened to him?”

  The Groundhogs were in Patchwork’s office. Before them lay Spit-Take; ointment lathered his exposed skin and bandages wrapped around his head with a neck cast under his chin. A breathing mask was connected from his mouth to a rusted air pump on the side with an electrocardiogram at his bedside, beeping steadily. The group watched in horror.

  “His shape was worse than I thought,” Patchwork said. “His wounds are incredibly severe, especially to the head. Breakage to the skull at the front temples caused him to bleed profusely. I ended up having to pull broken bits of bone out before his brain was permanently damaged.” He adjusted his glasses, “But he’ll be alright, I made sure of it.”

  Snap shook his head, his lips trembling. “How did this happen?!”

  “M.I.R.S.,” Abbas spoke. He squeezed his fists, “The way he spoke…it had to have been Red Collars, there’s no other way he’d lose like this!”

  The room was quiet, the only sounds was the constant beeping of the machine at Spit-Take’s side. Then, Salamander gritted his teeth and stormed out the room. Xole’s head slowly turned to the large man, “Abbas, do you think…”

  “My source,” Abbas said. The large man glared at Spit-Take, “I was blind not to have taken to this sooner!”

  “Abbas?” Snap said. “You think the source did sell you out?”

  “I tried to warn you!” Patchwork exclaimed, “I told you all! You can’t trust Collared workers, let alone cops!”

  “Hush, Rivers.” Abbas said sternly. He looked back at Spit-Take. “I…I will get in contact with him. I will have this cleared up.”

  Shakar glanced at Mr. Holdover, “Well,” he said, “has this changed your mind at all?”

  The man looked at the Groundhogs, then Xole. He sighed.

  “No.”

  He turned and left the room. Everyone else stood there in silence. Snap smiled again but sat down on the floor, his shaky hands tinkering with a mess of wires. “It’ll be alright guys…” he said quietly.

  Clenching his fists, Xole stomped out the door, his head shooting back and forth in Zone 2 until he saw the back of Mr. Holdover’s head. He could see him far off in the center of the shopping venues, nearly disappearing into the crowd. Xole ran after him, keeping his head in sight. “Hey!” he yelled, “Get back here!”

  There was no response

  “Hey! Hey don’t make me come over there!” he called, knowing he would have to anyways.

  Mr. Holdover took a few more steps before stopping. He turned back to see Xole skidding to a stop just a few feet from him. He was panting hard.

  “You…you…” he inhaled, “You saw what they did to Spit-Take!!”

  “…”

  “You coward!” he yelled, pointing, “All this talk about making a difference and stopping these ‘elites’, yet you shrivel at the sound of one!”

  “....”

  “What? Got nothing to say? Nothing to yell at this time?” he coughed a sardonic laugh. “I should’ve known from before to now you were never about it, you just said it to sound cool!”

  The man eyed him, then ahead.

  “You wanna keep running? Fine, go! Keep beating up small fry’s like me! Let M.I.R.S or whoever take over everything! Why don’t you get registered while you’re at it?”

  Mr. Holdover shook his head, “You don’t get it—”

  “Well maybe I don’t want to!” Xole shot back, ignoring the looks of the passersby’s, “There’s nothing complicated about helping people!!”

  “…” Mr. Holdover turned and left, shaking his head.

  Xole shook, his arms tensing. “Y’know all that stuff you told me back in my room—that inspired me! I-I really, really thought you were different from the others. But no, here you go abandoning me like them! Y-you’re a fraud! You know that? A big lousy fraud!”

  Mr. Holdover disappeared into the subway station below.

  He made his way down to the station to see it was deserted and instead Sunshine, Johnny Rip, and Sammy Tears standing in front of the train waiting for him. Sammy grinned and waved his hand, “Sup, took ya long enough.”

  “The hell’s this?” Mr. Holdover asked.

  “Your free trial’s run out,” Sunshine said. “Salamander confirmed it was you who broke into Prime Hill.”

  A brief chuckle escaped Mr. Holdover’s lips, “So that fuck ratted me out, eh?” he shook his head, “Figures…”

  “Usually we don’t give train privileges to those who break the rules,” Sunshine said. She smirked, taking out her guns, “but in this case we decided it be better to take out the trash now rather than lollygag.” She aimed her weapons at him, “Now get in.”

  Mr. Holdover looked the three up and down. Shrugging he boarded the train and nearly took a seat before spying D. Clark sitting in the next car, head down. He gestured. “What’s he doing here?”

  Sunshine grinned. “D? He heard about your failed scheme and decided to deport himself too. Serves him right.”

  The older man looked on before finally taking a seat as the train lurched forward.

  …

  Shakar’s brow twitched, “You did what?”

  “Mr. Washington’s assistance was no longer required,” Abbas said. He, Trix, and Salamander were back in Prime hill while Snap and Xole stayed in Patchwork’s office. The large man looked at him, “I’m assuming that’s the same for you too?”

  “Well, that depends on if you can get my clothes back, which is looking more and more unlikely. So I think your still in my debt…”

  “Don’t push your luck,” Trix hissed, “Now isn’t the time for humor. You need to pick a side.”

  “Then I’ll pick the side that gives me my clothes!”

  The woman and Salamander almost moved towards him but Abbas put his arm up. “Shakar,” he said, “Do you believe Mr. Holdover’s removal to be unjustified?”

  “That depends,” he said, “Is it because he showed us your lack of transparency?”

  “Transparency?!” Salamander spat, “It ain’t about dat, it’s about trust, and dat man was anyding but! He shoulda known better ‘dan ta poke. Even if someone told him ta do it, he shoulda trusted us first! Dat’s why he’s gone.”

  “Even if that someone was a Groundhog?” Shakar smiled narrowed at the man. He looked at the rest of them, “One could assume I’ve done much worse yet you still let me stand here.”

  “Mr. Holdover was unwilling to cooperate any further,” Abbas said. He dipped his chin to his chest to eye the younger man, “I believe that’s all you need to understand.”

  The two stared at each other in what felt like an eternity. Trix and Salamander exchanged glances and shrugs, stuck until one was willing to budge. Then, Shakar reached behind him, pulling out a device. “Then perhaps, this can make my case.”

  Abbas and the other two gazed at what he held, a police GPS. The large man took it, inspecting it, “Where did you…?”

  “The police transport van,” Shakar said, “Not to worry, it isn’t being backtracked.”

  “Abbas,” Trix said, “With this we can finally find…”

  “Yes,” he agreed. He turned to Shakar. “This would conclude your investigation into the homeless. I suppose seeing what Mr. Holdover took and what you gave now makes this predicament equal.”

  “…Equal?” he said.

  “If things had tuned out differently I would’ve liked for the two of you to continue working for us. We all need to be on the same page if we wish to defeat this enemy.”

  “’Us’ being on the same page would require a universal understanding of the contents,” Shakar said, “And I believe that would be through the work of both parties involved. So I’ll have to say no.”

  The three looked at him.

  “Am I to be removed as well?”

  “No,” Abbas said. He turned form the man and looked at the GPS. “You are dismissed to be a free citizen of Haven. Enjoy yourself, Shakar.”

  The younger man nodded and left the room. Trix watched him leave. “I still think we should keep an eye on him. That call he made was still strange.”

  Salamander shrugged, “Sounds like jus’ more folk tryin’ ta mooch off ol’ Amesworth. I still say his girl’s cheatin’ dough.”

  “We’ll continue to monitor him closely.” Abbas said. “In the meantime Mr. Holdover is our focus.”

  She nodded. “I suppose we should’ve known he was our suspect all along.”

  “Ha!” Salamander laughed, “I neva did like dat guy!”

  “For now we can monitor him with the molehills in case he attempts to contact backup,” Abbas said.

  “It’s a good thing we didn’t tell him about all of them.” Trix said, “But that one, Shakar, he still saw the bulletin board.”

  “True,” Salamander agreed. “Dink dat could be a problem, big guy?”

  “I foresee not, which is why he’s still here,” Abbas replied. “I do believe one day we can all learn to read the same page.” He looked down, watching him stroll into Zone 2, then the GPS. “But for now, we’ve still got work to do. Tomorrow, let us resume Xole’s training.”