#........ yeah

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"... Do you really think what you're doing here is good?"

Simon gritted his teeth, barely one wrong word away from breaking something. His brother's voice was like nails dragging against the back of his mind. He wanted- needed- to be out of here.

Warren kept talking as if he hadn't been handcuffed to a chair. There was a mocking, almost condescending tone to his words that was unfairly infuriating. "Does it feel good being here, Si? In this- this clean, organized place? In this site where you lock away anything that breathes wrong in a room made soundproof so nobody gets nightmares from the screaming and the crying? Does it feel good thinking you're helping people when all you're doing is making sure they can do this terrible work without shooting themselves in the head for it?"

"Since when have you ever known what helping people looks like?" The words came out pointed, cold. Still, Simon could hear his anger in them crystal-clear. "The information you lied your way in here to get- what were you going to do with it? Hand it over to a higher-up so they can send in a team with no backup and outdated weapons to cause a breach? Is it helping, to send them in to their deaths? Or to bring them here with orders to kill anyone in their way?"

"They wouldn't have to kill if you weren't putting anomalies through hell. Tell me this, Simon. How many people are being hurt in the hundreds of cells here? And how many doctors has the Foundation torn apart to keep them locked away?"

"Shut up." He was not allowed to use people's deaths that way. They weren't just some weapon to throw around and hurt him with. "You don't get to say that. You don't get to use the people who've died here against me."

"Oh, I think I do." Warren leaned forward. "Do you like it, working here? Do you really want to keep helping the Foundation when all it's doing is causing pain? Do you really think what you're doing here is good?"

It has to be. Because if it wasn't...

"How many people have you convinced to stay here and die, Simon?"

"I said," Simon snapped, "shut up!"

It took a few seconds for him to register that the crack he heard was his brother's head being slammed into a wall.

Simon froze, coming to terms with himself. With the fact his fingers were pressing hard against Warren's skull, where blood was already beginning to drip down.