"Yes, sir. I know. Yes. I understand. That's right. No. No. I know you can. I'm sorry. We're doing our best, sir. Yes, sir," Rhos said before putting down the smartphone and sighing so deeply that the grass around his feet shook.
"That bad, huh?" asked Dein who leaned against the black car. He wore a slim, dark combat suit that covered all the way to his neck.
"Yep. We either die on this mission or the director will kill us if we return empty-handed. One of the perks of having heavy expectations placed on your shoulders by the Bureau, I guess," Rhos said as he spat.
They were two kilometers away from their target. They had wanted to advance closer, but they decided against it in case preventative measures against any form of surveillance were around the eerie house far off into the distance.
"The President is furious and many high-ranking officials are barking behind the Bureau's back for the capture of the targets dead or alive. Preferably alive. Too many died and so many resources were lost. There is no burying this."
"Yeah," said Dein. "This is gonna set Agavon back quite a bit, and that's without even factoring in the political backlash."
Red Biscuit City, located in Agavon, one of the five countries within the Tylon continent, was the most prosperous city, even when considering the nation's capital.
It was an unofficial diplomatic ground where foreign, high-ranked individuals would come for formal and informal interactions with local, similarly ranked bigshots. The reason behind its prosperity was that it was erected mainly for this specific purpose. Many resources were funneled into it, and as one would expect, there were too many stakeholders involved.
The President of Agavon had used Red Biscuit City to lure in as many countries as he could in order to build alliances which would be useful in case the 'peace' that was prevalent right now were to be broken.
Now, not only had he lost his daughter, who had been staying in the city, but he had also earned himself thousands of enemies in the foreign officials who nested in the luxuries Red Biscuit provided while patiently waiting for the returns from their investments.
This was unacceptable!
As a start, the culprits had to be apprehended, which would be difficult, as the scale of the damage was confirmed to have been caused by two people at most. Apparently, there was evidence linking the suspects - or as Rhos and Dein suspected it to be a single individual - to a case from several years ago, which featured the same flavor of devastation.
The director of the National Bureau of Defence (NBD) was venting out his frustration from the continued pressure he was receiving from the President and other officials on Rhos, who had been assigned as the lead Agent on this case.
The NBD was an organization erected to deal with crimes that were orchestrated by Utility Users. It was a separate force from the police and was wildly more efficient. At least it was supposed to be.
"So, you managed to convince Jofferson not to send us to our deaths. Great. What's the plan now?" asked Dein.
Rhos' eyes flickered as the hazy figure of a jeep with three people on board appeared in his vision again, traveling through the sparse trees.
"The logical action would be to wait for the reinforcements I have called for. We don't need too many people if we're to deal with these guys, we'd only lose a lot of promising Agents. We don't know which group they belong to, but I'm willing to bet that they are Hired Heathens. Their goal is unclear, but destroying the diplomacy between countries merely a breath away from becoming solid allies doesn't seem too far-fetched of an antagonizing goal, does it? That's probably what we have to deal with," Rhos explained.
Dein clutched the bridge of his nose, his eyelids covering his true sapphire eyes.
"It will lead to a war if we manage to find who hired them. Heck, even if we don't, sooner or later, we'll start seeing more open forms of aggression," he said.
"Unfortunately, yes," said Rhos as he squinted. "The report we received before the city was destroyed said that the mayor and his family were killed by some young lady. She ran away immediately afterward and picked up a young man on her way. From what I can see right now..." he said while focusing his sight on the hazy image of a young man with curly hair and sweet violet eyes. "...it's probably the young man with her who flattened the city. That young lady wouldn't need to fire regular guns if she had that much power."
"I see. But then, if we go in ourselves guns blazing, that target could turn us into compact beef. Who did you call in for the job?"
"You'll see soon. Most are unfamiliar faces. We need to get that man away from this young lady and then we can have an easier time, assuming they are not meeting up with any more people there, that is. Then again, I've taken that into account as well," said Rhos. "We strike in the morning."
***
Ess and Twist walked down the corridor until they reached a door at the very end. Twist opened it and a flight of stairs that went downwards appeared. The two walked down for some time until they reached a small space with a trapdoor which Twist promptly opened.
"Wouldn't be a Hired Heathen residence without a trapdoor that leads to an expansive reinforced space for 'chatting' now would it?" said Ess as he saw the large, well-lit room past the small door.
Twist chuckled hollowly.
He then jumped into the room and fell for a few seconds before landing on all fours like a cat. Also like a small feline, there was hardly any sound when he made contact with the floor.
Ess followed after the spiky-haired boy and dropped with his body straight as an arrow. In contrast, a sharp boom resounded where he landed, but he simply slotted his hands into his pockets and walked on without caring for the damaging recoil that should have acted upon his legs.
He looked around and saw the large grey tiles that made up the entirety of the floor. They were made from a material he knew all too well. It was capable of absorbing impacts, remaining intact even after the fact.
The ceiling was nothing special. It looked like plain, dark steel with the abundant downlights on it giving no space for shadows beneath.
The room was roughly 30 meters in length and 20 meters in width, the height that Ess and Twist had fallen from being around 8 meters.
"Quite the nice room," said Ess. "Who made it?"
"Friends," Twist replied succinctly.
He removed the sheathed sword from his waist and threw it aside.
"Since you said I shouldn't pull out my J.U.N.K on you, I won't. Let's have this be hand-to-hand. No weapons. No Utilities," said the boy and he dashed back, creating a 10-meter distance between himself and his brother.
"Fine by me," Ess said with a tilt of his head.
Twist brought his open hands before him in a basic pre-grapple stance and his eyes turned cold. A deep darkness oozed from him like oil before spreading outwards, tainting the air, or perhaps, biting at it.
The luminance within the room dimmed significantly in the face of focused Fint and staggering bloodlust.
"20 seconds," said Twist.
"5," scoffed Ess.
Twist frowned.
"Fine," he said before composing himself.
Then, he lunged.