The Boy from the Bunker

Episode Four, Part 4:

Episode Four, Part 4:
I m i t a t e

In speaking to Sol, Wynn had found a sense of ease. A sort of middle ground. He hoped it would prompt her to help him in finding out what happened to his family, but there was still things that Sol needed answering before she would exchange her help. Especially with the Decider of the Sovereigns forthcoming, she didn't want to equalise her power with anyone.

"Can you tell me how you survived? 14 years underground is a long time, Wynn. You must have had some communication with someone above, someone to stock you with food and equipment."

Wynnlow shook his head, a part of him almost offended by her assumption. "We didn't." His words were sharp. "There was no one else. We thought we were all that's left."

"Left of what?"

"The world..."

Sol sat up, half surprised, half amused by his statement. It was only until she saw the expression on Wynn's face that she realised he was serious. "Oh, don't look at me like that. There were plenty of people still alive when you went into the Bunker. Mass decreases of the population only occurred 9 years ago. Unless, to prove my point that someone was in communication with someone above. Someone to tell you that everyone was dying. You wouldn't have known anything about that."

"From what I was told, it was fair to assume that things were headed that way." Wynnlow argued. "When we went in, The Dormirs were still being evacuated, and everyone was after a cure for The Surge, even though there wasn't enough of it. People were either dying because they were Irremediable, or killing to escape being infected. My father said it only elevated the war's forthcoming. That's why a lot of Insusceptibles went into hiding; if you weren't killed by the Surge, you'd be killed by the war."

"Never say that word again." Sol interrupted him, suddenly serious. There was a terrified look appearing on her face.

"What? What are you on about? What word?"

She looked around her, bringing her voice to the softest whisper she could manage, leaning in close to speak to him. "Insusceptible."

Wynnlow pulled away, eyeing her cautiously, unsure what to think about the situation. He knew he should have listened to her, but there were still parts of him demanding to contrast her.

"Why can't I talk about the Insusceptibles? I might have even been one-"

Sol launched across, covering Wynnlow's mouth with her hand. She scanned the surrounding area, looking out through the fencing of Basilisk, anxious of someone a witness to their conversation.

After a few moments struggle, Wynn finally shoved Sol away from him. It was impossible to determine who was the most infuriated.

"It's like you're begging to get yourself killed." She spat, anger soaking her words as she paced around.

"I-"

"You'll end up like your brother." Sol warned him. "Then who will be the one to find your family?"

"Don't you think you're overreacting just a little bit, Sovereign?" His tone was still playful, still an amusement in irritating her, but the mention of his brother almost shattered him.

She glared at him, a fire burning inside her at his words. She was exhausted of him. Not knowing what else to say, she walked over, standing right in front of his face.

Wynnlow smirked down at her, waiting for whatever she had to give, certain that she would be regretting all the training she had given him. Instead, Sol grabbed onto his wrist, holding his hand up in front of his eyes.

"You're in debt to me, Wynn. And guess what? That gives me power over you. And I'm a Sovereign: I have power over everyone. I could banish you from Basilisk right now-"

"Do it."

Sol blinked, suddenly stumped by Wynnlow's response. "What?"

He smirked, pleased that he had got his desired response. "Do it." He repeated, folding his arms over his chest.

She continued to glare at him, debating her words, wondering how she would win this fight. Rolling her eyes, she turned away, still pacing around at a more controlled time. "You're not worth it."

Wynnlow hadn't expected that. In result, a sort of rejection fizzled in his chest.

"Not like it matters anymore - because the virus is dead, but I don't see why you're so afraid of the word. I thought you were supposed to be tougher than that?"

Sol had, had enough. He was naive and tempting and already knew how to push all of her buttons.

"You don't know a thing about being tough. You're irrational and hot-headed, and you wouldn't survive a day without me. Say that word again and I won't hesitate to banish you, and your family from Basilisk. I'll see you for shooting tomorrow, 8 sharp. But I promise you... Disrespect me again, and you'll be begging for your life."

f o u r // p a r t f o u r