[center][b][color=silver]The Taxiarch[/color][/b][/center][hr][b][u]Morning   The Rookery, New York City[/u][/b]
[center][u]A Reunion[/u][/center][right][Everybody][/right]

Three took one last drag of his cigarette, the sparks contrasting his graying beard before he flicked the ashes away. The ride over was mostly uneventful, with Warhawk running his mouth between the debrief and the mountains of paperwork he complained about. It was all noise to Three in the end as he had seen his mission was already complete. Instead, what was on his mind was the lives he had taken just moments before, a group of lowly rebels who fought for some lofty ideals of freedom. 

Three thought about the horrified expressions of the insurgents as he murdered them one by one, the look of terror on each of their faces as they saw their brothers in arms- and perhaps in blood- cut down like mere chaff. He wondered briefly if they had families, brothers or sisters, fathers or sons. It wasn't something Three had thought of before, but he couldn't help it given what was to come.

After all, what sort of older brother would he be if he wasn't excited to see his siblings?

When they finally made it, the middle-aged man had no time to waste as he stomped his cigarette out, walking into The Rookery without a second thought as he marched into the lobby rather plainly. He was wearing a long black coat suitable for combat dirtied from his previous exchange, yet surprisingly not with a single drop of blood on it. Underneath his coat was a set of tactical fatigues complete with a vest, a pistol holstered at each of his flanks and a blade at his hip. He didn't bother disarming himself when entering the premises, and would all but ignore anyone who attempted to accost him of his weapons. After all, this room would soon be flooded with living weapons.

Three didn't bother waiting for his handler to announce their arrival or come in first as he made his way into the lobby. The way he moved was unassuming, yet he conducted himself with utmost efficiency even in a setting as "casual" as this. Without a wasted movement, Three would simply find his way to the meeting point. It wasn't anything strange to most, yet to the Warhawk who had overseen Three for decades, it was clear that Three was uncharacteristically eager for this meeting.

Three first took a look at his "older sister" and the childish handler assigned to her. Three could never recall his sister's face, yet he still recognized her in some way. Perhaps even with his memories muddied, those who were raised to face the same ordeals would grow an instinctive connection to one another. Three wondered to what extent the Church would maintain his body for but a brief moment, dismissing the thought before it became intrusive. To be maimed to such a degree would be seen as a failure of his mission, an impossible thought that three would not dare waste his prescience over.

Three then glanced at the much younger Nine. The old man thought about how far the experiment has gone, how young his siblings would be compared to himself. After all, he was already old enough to be "Orwell's" father, almost their grandfather. Out of everything, Three could intuit that it was those haunting eyes that was the most dangerous. Even a passing glance was enough for Three to be on guard with the much younger sibling. A monster under the guise of a mere child.

Of course, this is exactly what Three expected, and why he had come into this meeting with an unnatural sense of purpose. An excitement to see his siblings, yet not one out of love or warmth. After all, a mission that involves the gathering of them en masse is bound to be complicated, and given that they were all living weapons with mental instabilities of varying degrees, it meant that it was a possibility that one or more of his siblings could be a threat to the mission. Threat assessment was one of his specialties, after all, as well as dealing with those threats as they come. It didn't matter if they were connected to him by flesh and blood, by circumstance, or by purpose.

Three had come into this meeting with the resolve of learning how to put down each and every one of his siblings if the time were to come for it.

The old man didn't bother to introduce himself as the hums of the scanners announced his presence, simply moving out of the way from the entrance with his arms crossed. He considered lighting another cigarette, but envisioned the headache that would come from doing so in a room full of children and decided not to.