Raziel paced back and forth, her fists clenching and unclenching as the heat of frustration simmered inside her. "So, what's the plan, then?" she asked, her voice tight with impatience. "We sit around and wait for them to come knocking? Or are we going after them?"
Leon, packing up his makeshift gear and checking his weapons, barely spared her a glance. "Neither."
"What do you mean, 'neither?'" Raziel snapped, stomping her foot. "We can take them! You know where the Council operates, don't you? We can find them, strike first."
Leon paused, his expression growing harder. "We're not ready."
"Not ready?" Raziel's flames sparked in her palms as her anger flared. "I'm ready! I've been ready! You saw what I can do—"
"You're not listening," Leon cut in sharply, his voice like steel. "The Council isn't a group you can just waltz up to and burn to the ground. They control scavengers, Raziel. They control resources. We go after them now, and we'll be dead before we get through the front door."
Raziel stepped closer, her eyes blazing with defiance. "So what, we hide? That's your big plan? Hide and hope they don't find us?"
"No," Leon said, his tone cold and measured. "We find allies. People who know how to fight the Council, people who've gone up against them and survived."
Raziel's eyes narrowed. "I don't need anyone else. I can take them myself."
Leon stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a speed that caught her off guard, he closed the distance between them. Before Raziel could react, he kicked out her leg, tripping her forward and sending her stumbling. In a flash, he had her at blade point, his makeshift knife pressed against her throat.
Raziel froze, her breath catching in her chest as she stared into Leon's eyes. There was no humor there, no teasing smirk. His eyes were hard—dangerous.
"You think you're ready?" Leon's voice was low, lethal. "You didn't even see that coming."
Raziel's heart pounded in her ears, her mind racing. The fire in her veins wanted to explode, but her instincts told her not to move. The sharp edge of the blade was cold against her skin, and Leon's expression was darker than she'd ever seen it.
"If I was your enemy," Leon continued, his voice calm but filled with an edge that made her blood run cold, "you'd be dead right now. You didn't block, you didn't react—you didn't even sense my hostility. And you think you're ready to take on the Council?"
Raziel's eyes flared with fury, but she forced herself to stay still. "Get off me," she growled through clenched teeth.
Leon didn't move, his blade still poised at her throat. "You want to fight them, Raziel? Then start paying attention. Start learning how to stay alive. Because the Council's not going to fight you head-on. They'll come for you in the shadows, in ways you won't see coming, unless you get your head straight."
Her fists clenched at her sides, flames flickering faintly in her palms, but the frustration boiled beneath her skin, threatening to explode. "You—"
Leon pressed the blade just a fraction closer, cutting her off. "You want to fight me right now? Do it. Burn me alive. But know this—if you can't even stop someone like me, you won't last five seconds against them."
Raziel glared at him, her body trembling with barely contained rage. But she knew, deep down, that he was right. She hadn't seen it coming. She'd been so focused on her anger, on the fire inside her, that she'd missed the danger right in front of her.
Slowly, Leon pulled back, lowering the blade. "We're not going after the Council," he said, his voice softer now but still firm. "Not yet. First, we get stronger. We find people who can help us. Then, and only then, we hit them."
Raziel stood there, her pride stinging like a fresh wound. She wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong. But the truth hung heavy in the air between them. She hadn't been ready. Not for Leon's attack, and definitely not for the Council.
She exhaled, the flames dying down in her palms as her fists unclenched. "Fine," she muttered, glaring at him through narrowed eyes. "But if we're doing this, we're doing it fast. I'm not waiting forever."
Leon nodded, his expression softening just a little. "We'll move as quickly as we can. But we're not going to survive this by rushing in blind."
Raziel shot him one last glare before turning away, frustration still gnawing at her. "Whatever. Just don't expect me to play nice when the time comes."
Leon smirked, though there was no humor in it. "Wouldn't dream of it."
With a last, bitter glance at the blade Leon had held to her throat, Raziel stomped across the room, her mind still racing with thoughts of battle, vengeance, and the fight she wasn't yet ready for.
But soon. Soon, she would be.
And when the time came, she'd be ready to burn them all down.
Raziel was still fuming, her anger simmering just beneath the surface as they packed up their gear. She had half a mind to grab her tonfas and storm out, find the Council herself, and show them just how "not ready" she was. But before she could act on it, Leon suddenly paused, his brow furrowing as if he'd just remembered something.
"Wait," Leon said, his voice cutting through the silence. He set his pack down and turned toward the far wall where the broken machinery still lay scattered.
Raziel, halfway through rolling her eyes, shot him a puzzled look. "What now?"
Leon didn't answer right away, his focus sharp as he knelt by the rubble. He began clearing away the debris, and that's when Raziel saw it—the compartment they'd uncovered earlier, now half-buried under the wreckage.
"The compartment," Leon muttered to himself, shaking his head. "I can't believe I almost forgot."
Raziel raised an eyebrow, folding her arms. "You're seriously going to dig through more junk right now? I thought we were prepping for the big 'find allies' trip."
Leon ignored her, his hands moving with intent as he pried open the hidden panel. "This isn't just junk. There was something here earlier, something... off."
Raziel sighed, but curiosity won out. She stepped closer, watching as Leon carefully lifted a small, metallic box out of the compartment. It was old—really old. Dust covered its surface, but beneath the grime was something that caught Raziel's eye: a faint, worn insignia etched into the metal, and below it, a name.
"House Forgotten," Leon read aloud, his voice low, almost reverent.
Raziel frowned, her frustration momentarily replaced by confusion. "House... Forgotten? I've never heard of them."
Leon wiped more dust away from the box, revealing the insignia in full—a faded emblem that looked unlike any House symbol she'd seen. "That's because they don't exist anymore. Or at least, not officially. This is extinct House tech."
Raziel leaned in, peering at the strange symbol. "Extinct? How does a House just go extinct?"
"They didn't go extinct," Leon explained, still focused on the box. "They were wiped out. Erased. No one remembers them except for scavengers who dig deep enough to find relics like this."
Raziel snorted, crossing her arms again. "Great. So we found some ancient junk from a dead House. What are we supposed to do with it?"
Leon shot her a glance, his eyes gleaming with something close to excitement. "You're not getting it. This isn't just junk. House Forgotten had tech that the other Houses couldn't replicate—stuff that was way ahead of its time."
He carefully opened the box, and inside were several old, yellowed pages, covered in strange symbols and diagrams. At the center of it all was a blueprint of some kind, showing a device that pulsed with energy.
Raziel's eyes widened. "Is that...?"
"It's a core," Leon said, his voice barely a whisper. "Not just any core, though. Look at this—it's... different." He pointed to one of the diagrams, his finger tracing the lines of the blueprint. "These designs... they're not like anything I've seen before. This is ancient tech, and it's connected to the core of someone—or something."
Raziel's brow furrowed, her gaze shifting from the plans to Leon. "Wait. You think this has something to do with my core?"
Leon shrugged, though his eyes remained locked on the blueprints. "It's possible. There's something here—some kind of connection. But I can't read any of this. It's in a language that no one uses anymore."
Raziel looked closer at the strange writing, the characters twisting and turning in unfamiliar patterns. "Great. So now what? We found some cryptic plans in a language we can't read, and we're supposed to what—hope it magically tells us how to fight the Council?"
Leon smirked. "No. We find someone who can read it."
Raziel rolled her eyes again. "Oh, great. Another stop on our 'find allies' tour."
Leon slung his pack over his shoulder, the box tucked carefully inside. "Not exactly. There's a group I know—cousins, actually. Triplets. They're ex-House agents who defected years ago and became scavengers."
Raziel raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Cousins, huh? So they're family?"
Leon's expression darkened slightly, his tone more guarded. "Yeah. Family. But don't get too excited—they're splicers, just like you. Only difference is, they play by the rules."
Raziel scoffed. "Play by the rules? What kind of scavenger plays by the rules?"
Leon turned to face her fully, his eyes serious. "The kind that doesn't want to end up on the Council's radar. They know how to survive without drawing attention. They're good at what they do, and they've managed to keep off the Council's watchlist because of it."
Raziel frowned, crossing her arms. "So, what's the catch? If they're so clean, why haven't you gone to them before?"
Leon hesitated, his jaw tightening. "Let's just say... we've got history. They didn't exactly have my back when I needed them most. But they know their way around old House tech, and if anyone can help us decode this, it's them."
Raziel narrowed her eyes, picking up on the tension in his voice. "Wait. So you're telling me we're going to these cousins of yours—who didn't help you when you were in trouble—and we're just hoping they'll suddenly decide to help us now?"
Leon's gaze hardened. "I don't like it either, but they're the best shot we have at figuring out what's in this box. And if they know anything about House Forgotten, they might be able to give us a lead. But we'll have to be careful."
Raziel leaned in, her curiosity piqued. "Careful how?"
"They're splicers, Raziel," Leon said, his voice low. "Strong ones. They've been off the Council's radar for a reason—they follow just enough of the rules to stay out of trouble, but they're not exactly saints. And they don't owe me any favors. Last time I trusted them, they left me hanging."
Raziel's eyes flicked to the box, then back to Leon. "So why trust them now?"
Leon's shoulders tensed, and for a moment, he looked like he was debating whether to answer. Finally, he sighed. "Because they know things. Things that could help us. And if this plan has anything to do with your core or House Forgotten, they might have the answers we need. But don't think for a second that this is a happy family reunion."
Raziel smirked, though there was a dangerous glint in her eyes. "Sounds like fun."
Leon shot her a warning look. "We're not going there to pick a fight, Raziel."
She shrugged, already imagining the worst-case scenario. "Who said anything about picking a fight?"
Leon groaned but continued packing up their gear. "Just... don't push them, alright? If we want their help, we need to be smart about this."
Raziel leaned against the wall, watching him. "Smart, huh? You mean like letting them turn us in to the Council if they feel like it?"
Leon's jaw tightened again, but he didn't respond immediately. After a moment, he looked up at her, his expression serious. "They won't do that. Not unless we give them a reason to. But be ready for anything."
Raziel pushed off the wall, her curiosity piqued even more now. "Oh, I'm always ready for anything. Let's go meet the family."
Leon nodded, slinging his pack over his shoulder and giving her one last look before they set off. "Just remember—these guys are survivors. They're not on anyone's radar for a reason. They know how to play the game, and if we play it wrong, we're screwed."
Raziel's smirk widened, her fists sparking with tiny flickers of flame. "Sounds like my kind of people."