"Hello, Inspector. Yes, we need immediate assistance here. Yes, yes...alright. I'll keep an eye on that." After a gap of utter silence, the shop once again clung to vocal sounds. Facade, who bluntly yet under compulsion played a part of a hidden rat, snooped for an entire hour beneath the display desk.
From emergence of Gutter Rats to their departure, the show behind the compartment wrapped up in trio's seizure after all. Though Jane's abrupt squeals ruined most of the audible discussions, one implication stayed prominent.
"I wonder how someone could fit this small bakery into their blueprint..."
Mike's statement that Facade knew no other could percieve in true sense, was actually an innuendo, a way that suggests something hidden or critical without stating it openly. And so, he interpreted the meaning behind the forged clause.
'Avail the blueprints' — that was what his underling truly meant out of his scoff.
Damn him, he's really leaving the blueprints behind!?
Well, wait a second... what happened to their headdresses?
He frowned at the neglection of small detail, recalling that he never caught whispers regarding facepieces throughout the triplet's conversation.
It was the same, full coverage mask that Dan and Fiver wore, but different in designs. Style solely depend upon the wearer, dog, crow, duck whatever one like to have. However, wearing them even outside the Mansion was a mandatory step.
Nope, Officer Frawl should have inquired about the mask if they were wearing it. So, that means that they revealed their faces to each other?
Facade wondered.
That's odd...
...
It's literally not the time to think about that rubbish!
Facade, who had been preoccupied by insignificant matters, lightly snapped his head, grasping the current situation in prominence as he completely ditched the curiosity knitting inside his head.
"Why had I never noticed this bakery before?" Frawl muttered right after declining the call, his voice intervening with Facade's busy senses. "Hm..." He crouched and brushed the rigid edge of a broken figurine, the same that Mike had caressed earlier.
Unease tightened Frawl's sharp features as he rose after much inspection, his squinting gaze observing every nook and corner of the deserted interior. "Never mind that!" But he jerked his shoulders, dissipating his minute inkling into the hue of walls. "I'll add this bakery to my investigation records later." His focus solely deflected his professionalism when he tossed self-dialogues, mind now bearing the image of an upcoming holiday.
Crunch...
Crack of glass became apparent when Frawl began to tread among shards, crinkles gradually rising when he wandered near the décor desk.
Facade couldn't sense much out of the rubbled setting from behind the cabinet, not because of the wodden slate blocking his veiw but, entirely due to the downsides of his abyss perception.
One, Crowd.
Second, narrow spaces.
Coupled into a pair, the pitfalls laid clear in range, just like they were on the second floor of the report headquarters.
That's literally enough.
But in contrast to his logical analysis, temper gradually evolved in rage, almost reaching to a measure when he nearly decided to vault out of the closet all without having any speculations in reserve.
I. Want. To. Get. Out!
Facade roared an inner irritation at last. Be it his lack of vision or not, his back had begun to familiarize with the bent posture, soreness evident when he exited his uniform state for fleeting moments.
Okay, I know what to do... I'll go with the flow.
Even though it was his own line of thinking, he felt it like a bolt of astonishment coming from nowhere. "Crap. I'm definitely not in my right mind." he spoke faintly under his doubled cloak, so light that it barely reached his own hearing.
Facade was aware that his job required his razor wits, someone who's supposed to be rational at any time, by any means. And yet, their were times when his intellect loses to respond even to simple problems.
The main reason for that? It was totally evident from transcribed events.
Assigned missions, complimentary missions, minor infiltration tasks, list of personal initiatives, Fiver's declined missions and what not. It was all dumped to Facade's tab like he was fed twelvefold for completing them all. Accepting all the offered duties wholeheartedly were counted as his own actions, but he couldn't hide his smirk when each of the attended job would only bring rails of his incomplete ladder.
It's totally my senior's fault that I'm having such thoughts, like 'Go with the flow'
Facade signed the last couple of words in quotation, burying his guilt instantly into Dan's pocket. From then onwards, his attention was only fixed on being a wind-sailor, overriding any unpredictability alone with rapid decisions.
He knew that whenever his mental space includes such statements, it only meant that he had purely approved of gut's call rather than his critical resolves, the same that he usually receives in somewhat tight spots.
While intentionally transferring his brainpower into the slippery hands of destiny, Facade heaved a deep sigh.
His decision to abandon reasoning under vagueness was an absolute pick, so he braced himself before starting the countdown.
Three...
Facade began the muted counting, neglecting the persisted tinkles of debris.
Two...
The instant number dropped, shop went completely breathless.
One!
THUD!
Frozen air brimmed the cozy shelf when Facade burst the door open, its rare hitting hard against the timber slab. Without even permitting his abyss perception to work, he yanked and rolled over to the counter base, half crouched in a bent-knee stance when he briefly paused to sort out the next possible move.
"Who's there!?" Officer Frawl halted his leisure walk with a bolting swirl, grip steady on the aimed handgun when he alerted his instincts. His eyes had already locked the blurry image of a silhouette, but he failed to pull the trigger when Facade instantly rained the blanketed fragments in air.
"Shit!" Spinal reflex acted without a command when Frawl armored his face, muscular shoulders shielding from multiple threats. Shards engulfed the narrow corridor in milliseconds, some chips successfully gliding into his eyelids while others grazing his bare hands. Facade's veil hardened the moment silvers fell upon his frame, prohibiting any menace to its holder.
"Who in the..." Nonetheless of Frawl's stinging sight, he kept his eyes barely open, concluding the immediate attack to be a makeshift form of defense. It wasn't the silhouette that he had glimpsed, rather, a contour of a coiled man, his features covered within the mannequin-like black mask. "...world are you!?" His eyes stung before he forced them shut, blinking in attempt to expel the prickling chunk.
When Frawl happened to struggle with his hazy view, Facade clutched another pointed scrap in palm, ready to dash for the officer while he could. He tensed his right toe against the ground, piling the pressure to sprint an offensive move.
The release was a rapid fire, making his worn-out cloak flap with the sheer wind. A few steps of intensified dash and his feet took off the ground, his thighs stiffened to launch a flying kick.
With his sight being a complete curtain of darkness, Facade blasted mid-air with full throttle, scarcely unaware of the target's position. But Frawl had already recovered his dimmed eyes, his focus returning under direct command. He instantly took a short spin, enough to dodge the pressurized blow within ear's reach, while Facade crashed violently on the rear wall. The counter- base added to the intensity on Facade's side waist, jabbing the flank as he recovered from the instant shockwave.
Frawl immediately took advantage of Facade's crippled posture and flung a reverse elbow to his back, only to receive a blocked attempt from the veil. Pointed elbow scraped from the coverage's rigidity, reverberating the impact all to his clutched wrist when a backlash pressed Frawl to release the gripped pistol.
"What!?" But as soon as Frawl turned his head from utter surprise, the residual effect had dissipated from Facade's limbs. He readied a launch stance without delay, arms and toes planted on the wall for split seconds before he pushed himself backwards, straight for the glass door.
Crash!
Short on time, Frawl wasn't able to dodge the blasting response from behind, jaw colliding with counter rim as he stumbled to hold his footing at once. The moment his core hit the ground, lungs choked a jarring breath, instantly making him gasp for more.
KRRSSHHH!
The glass door finally cracked from Facade's weight, his momentum receding to a pause after it pounded Frawl's physique on the floor. Though the officer was about to lose his consciousness from the severe impact, he guarded his face once again, eyes closing shut as the splinters drizzled once again, calamity turning into absolute stillness within two ticks.
Now only gasps resounded the chaotic atmosphere, both individuals panting in their listless positions. Unlike Facade, who sat limp against the frosted door, Frawl mustered his remaining strength to part his lids, pupils barely focusing on the boy tumbled within a reach. "Ouch!" He groaned as he strived to move, gaze dropping on his exposed hand at last. Bright skin painted streaks of wine-red, face stinging when blood slipped through his nasal sidewall.
Not just his face, he could feel his whole inverted body aching with thrusted flecks, a heaviness on his waist hinting that his sidearm was still intact inside the holster. Even though his primal sense urged him to release a bullet on the boy's non-vital point, his arm stayed motionless.
"Shit..." Frawl cursed under his breath, seeing the prey immobile right in front of his eyes. Yet, without notice, his dizzy sight gradually widened into a bulging dart.
The queer black mask on Facade's face, the one fastened like glue even after much bolting, was still sound. Frawl realized, no, rather became certain that the headdress wasn't a unique piece of art. It was the same phenomenon, the same anomaly he was warned about.
'A face of a black display figure, a man that causes havoc wherever he goes. Be aware of him, his veil is his supreme shield.' The words flashed past Frawl's conscious space when he blankly stared the boy.
'Reasons bound us to hide the information from the lower departments, the military, the police, and the citizens. We cannot spy on someone who is under Mansion's protection... But...' Unyielding voice echoed in his brazen senses. 'Our King had not restricted us to act when we had the pawn within our grasp. He believes in uncertainty more than anything. Despite his favor for the Mansion, he wanted to leave the outcome in either the Forces' control or the Mansion's claws'
The speech delivered in the base of the Force headquarters had been totally scrubbed from Frawl's memory, not striking until he saw the peculiar manifestation with his own eyes.
"You..." Frawl muttered, intution became alerted as much as it could. Exception of crossing paths with rarity never occurred to him. Not once did he visualize to stumble upon what his commander addressed in fresh days, taking the aimed subject to be nothing but a myth.
And here he was, facing the exception in full view. The obscure image of the wanted individual more apparent than the idle chatters, his long dove-grey hair shimmering behind the flaked mirror.
His eyes scanned the princly attire, and finally, his glance met what he took for joke.
Unknown origins, forbidden thoughts, plausible drawbacks, all enticed to one rarity, The Black Veil. A phenomenon no brilliant mind can solve.
Moonlit shone upon the shattered glass, dancing ripples taking fraction of Facade's mystical face.
"You can't be..." Frawl let out a fractured awe, inflexible tension stitching his composed brows. The anonymous presence still carried a sagged posture, shoulders slumped and head bowed before Frawl. "The Blac—?" He suddenly let out a tense cough, spine burning when he mumbled.
Why...can't I move?
Eagerness continued to brew inside his heaving chest.
What was an outlaw doing in a cramped place? Does he have any connection with those three? More importantly, how could a simple attack turn him into a dead weight?
Speed of bursting thoughts were akin to whirlpool, brisk yet hasty. He utterly failed to build logic behind the former part, but latter definitely clucthced him by throat.
Past clashes had announced Frawl as an excellent damage absorber, multiple strikes failing to wither him on the ground. Underjaw, lateral neck, even the solar plexus became immune to brutal hits. But today? It was, as though, his training forsook him before a mere fellow, a single partial hit refraining him from moving a single inch.
While one forelimb drew parallel to his wounded face, the other arm rested loosely along his waist, flipped palm touching the smooth vial out of the blue.
What's...
He tottered the item offhand, studying it with his leftover consciousness.
Dissimilar to broken shards all across the room, the thing which his finger had brushed was an intact glass tube, lips embossed as he advanced his tips further on the small tube.
Before even knowing, Frawl tucked the cylindrical object inside his loop belt. Though, each movement ached the depth of his bones, he still gathered the stamina, fulfilling call of his inner sense within seconds.
Why had he done that? Frawl couldn't really tell. The reaction was out of pure whim, his cluttered judgement surrendering before the fogged scene.
He felt himself losing to blur once more, and this time, instead of struggling hard to go for his side arm, he let the darkness consume him whole.