The scene that greeted him above was one of devastation, the stench of the sea so much weaker than it was in the claustrophobic tunnels and the might of the Amigos so much clearer in the light of day. Seaweed clung to one side of the lighthouse, which had stood strong despite the spiderweb fractures that indicated something larger had been smashed against its sides. The forest had been all but demolished, flame, rot, and tidal waves clearing it all away.
It was just soil now, soaked with sea salt and brine, an unfortunate fish flapping about. Poor things, caught up in a conflict greater than what their piscine minds could comprehend. Brent wondered where those flippity floppity bastards were when he had gone fishing, but ultimately, he kicked the resilient bastard back into the waters. It survived whatever the hell the Amigos did, after all. Would be a shame to die of suffocation after that. Musing over pointless trash like that, the arbiter flicked out his phone and laughed at the results. Angelic, still DISCONNECTED on the other side of the island. Gregory, still DISCONNECTED only a short distance away from the estate. And everyone else moving on and on and…
Christ, he didn’t give a fuck.
Once the adrenaline had faded, once the immediate threat of death had gone, once no one he knew was in the process of getting horribly mauled to death, once the storm had stopped hammering down on the world before, the only thing left was the lingering aftertaste of disappointment. He looked at his hands, closed it, and grasped nothing. He looked around him, blinked, and saw nothing. And with nothing to do, nothing to see, nothing he wanted to think, Brent naturally turned towards Siena.
His mouth opened and then closed.
And Brent smiled instead, turning and walking off into the devastated remains of the forest, towards the direction of the estate that had been such a waste of time those past weeks.