◆Xard◆
“I hate to admit it,” Tusmon really sounded like he was about to regret his words as he hunkered down in hiding next to Xard. “But the information gathering capabilities of your group is rather impressive. I always assumed a place like this had to exist, but I could never find anything definitive, no matter how many peons I interrogated.”
The two men were staking out the entrance to a massive munitions bunker, sealed shut by a giant vault door with only a single guard. It was the last major stronghold that Humanity had left.
“Well, we certainly have a technological advantage,” Xard conceded. “But when you factor in Phon’s power, I’d say we’re practically cheating. Since the remnants of Humanity have been dwindling—only small pockets left scattered all over the continent—it’s been increasingly difficult to find them. So I’ve had to enlist her help in uncovering the remains. But even I didn’t think that such a large outfit still clung to existence.”
“Apparently this whole compound belonged to some famous mercenary group before the Drazah War, where they enlisted under the united front and were entirely wiped out. This property has been left untouched ever since. I have to hand it to these mawhgers, though. They don’t even touch the other buildings. It’s always just one guard outside the bunker to make it look like the place is still deserted.”
“The problem is getting in. That vault door and the ground covering the bunker would take me a while to blast through. I have no doubt I could do it, but that’s time Humanity could use to massacre their captives. When we get inside, I’m confident I could kill or subdue them all before they could even realize what’s happening. But we need to make it there first—ideally unnoticed.”
“As far as I’ve been able to find, that vault door is the only entrance, and it requires a code to get in. Looks like it changes every few days too from what I’ve observed. Since brute force isn’t a viable option, my next instinct is to ask Kada or Phon for assistance. However, my pride demands that I explore every possible option with my own hands first. After all, this mission was assigned to me, and I’ll be the one to see it through.”
“That said, Rescuer,” The Artillery added emphasis to Tusmon’s second pseudonym. “Given the work you’ve already done to this cause, I felt you should be entitled to seeing it through to its completion.”
“Hmph, well thank you for thinking of me,” Tusmon smirked, but his smile was more genuine than he let on. “And let me ask you something. I’m guessing the guards don’t remain on the premises.”
“No, they don’t,” Xard was was impressed by the deduction. “Phon took a mental picture of the layout. It’s nothing but cells for Fiends inside the bunker, closer to torture cages. The actual guards rotate in and out, commuting back home like it was any other shift job.”
“I see, then we just need to follow one,” The Investigator was convinced.
“Well, I’ve tried that but—”
“But you were worried about what would happen if you failed, right?” Tusmon cut Xard off. “That if you couldn’t get the code from them, their colleagues would get suspicious if one of them suddenly didn’t return for their next shift.”
“Yes, exactly,” Xard was starting to get annoyed by how similar their thought processes were. “If we go that route, we need it to be a guarantee.”
“Then leave it to me,” the detective was sure of himself. “I don’t know what The Vixen has told you about my left eye, but it doesn’t work the same as it did for Creti. I can’t force one of the guards to open the door. But I can get that code. I’ll tail the next one that comes out. You stay here and wait for my call. We don’t want those Fiends to suffer a moment longer than they have to.”
“Y’know, you’ve changed,” Xard stared the man down. “When we first met, it seemed to me that you were after Fiends no matter their circumstances. To think you’d be one of the driving forces saving them now.”
“Then I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood me,” Tusmon wouldn’t stand for the sleight. “Fiends have never been my target, but rather injustice. For me, I couldn’t stand that your group was getting a free pass just because we were afraid of you. It ate me up, and I couldn’t let that injustice slide. Though, I’ll admit that my perception of justice was a bit warped in the beginning, that since all Fiends were murderers, they were monsters.”
“I understand now that so many Fiends are just as much victims in those killings. Just because it was their hand, it doesn’t mean this was the outcome they wanted or deserved. And many are now doing what they can with their newfound powers to atone for their sins or improve the lives of others. While I still believe there needs to be limits, and restrictions, and accountability, I no longer believe Fiends as a whole are an exclusive evil.”
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◆◆◆
“Hey there, is this seat taken?” Tusmon slumped down on a barstool next to the woman at the counter before actuallying hearing her answer.
The woman in question groaned, eyeing the extremely empty bar with plenty of other vacant seats. Surely she thought the detective was just another creep who wanted to hit on her, even though she’d clearly gone out of her way to sit alone at the side. “Ugh, yeah, I guess,” she spat, clear annoyance in her voice, bracing herself for the retching flirty lines that were about to come flying her way.
But the detective took it one step further, wrapping his arm around her shoulder like they were old friends or already lovers. He had no respect for the woman’s privacy, because he practically didn’t view her as human anymore, since she was one of Humanity’s troops.
Tusmon had trailed her from the moment she left the bunker. The woman had headed straight for a bar without even going home first. She’d stripped off all of her gear and padding in her truck, and tucked her rifle under the seat—so quickly transforming into just an everyday citizen. No one would suspect that she was a horrendous terrorist at first glance.
“Um, can I mawhging help you?!” The woman’s head whipped to lock eyes with The Investigator. She didn’t bat his hand away. Instead, she chose to go with direct confrontation—her biggest mistake. The woman panicked immediately when their eyes met, realizing that her new friend was a Fiend. But it was too late.
Tusmon’s stone blue eye bloomed with light, reflecting in the woman’s own eyes. “Yes,” the detective smiled at her. “It would help me greatly if you could tell me the code for the bunker door.”
“Oh sure, the code is 836291,” the Humanity soldier answered without hesitation.
“Did you catch that, Xard?” With his free hand, Tusmon pulled his phone out of his shirt pocket.
“Yeah, I got it.”
“Good, then go ahead without me. I’ll clean things up here.” The Investigator hung up the phone and then gave the woman another look. She was stunned by what she had just said and the implications of what followed. The woman’s panic then turned to anger, and she sneered at the detective like she was going to pounce.
Tusmon slid his hand up from her shoulder to the back of her head. He grabbed her by the roots of her hair, and slammed her face into the counter. The woman collapsed, now on the floor, bleeding from a large gash. So the detective dialed his phone again.
“This is Detective Tusmon of the Fiend Crime Division, requesting backup. I have apprehended a suspect for possession of an illegal firearm and alleged kidnapping and terrorism.”
◆Dicatta◆
“If you’re just going to stare at me, why don’t you come back and help?” Dice looked up from his work in the kitchen. He’d chopped hundreds of vegetables, sliced a dozen cakes perfectly, and was now working on cubing meat, all to help out Vank and Hazzle in their meal prep. Not only did the old couple feed the over a hundred residents and members at the Fiends For Hire compound daily, they also had half of Bisomote coming to their restaurant for almost every meal.
And now on top of all that, they offered a delivery service to those living at the West compound and anyone staying at their safe houses. Needless to say, as just a two-person operation, they were constantly swamped. That’s why Dicatta would come help out in the kitchen. With his power, he made prepwork a breeze, only taking a few minutes, and he’d come by once or twice a day.
The man didn’t accept any money for his assistance, but was constantly showered with doting and love from the old couple, payment enough for the young man. He had been raised by his own grandparents, who were now living peacefully in a retirement home, so in a way, this was how he helped pay them back in spirit.
Dice didn’t mind his work in the slightest, and performed it with earnestness and pride everyday. But now having his every move watched and scrutinized by Chiulu, he was suddenly feeling self-conscious and anxious. “Here, why don’t you try cutting some yourself,” The man held out a knife towards The Bureaucrat, holding the blade while presenting the handle.
“Oh no no no, that’s a terrible idea!” Chiulu waved the knife away while taking a few steps back from it. “Me and sharp objects definitely don’t get along, and it’s usually the other people around me who pay for it.”
“Okay fine, how about this?” The Slicer held out a simple vegetable peeler, one that even had a ceramic blade rather than a metal one. “The potatoes and carrots need to be peeled before I can dice them. Do you think you could handle that?”
“Err, I can try I guess.” The Bureaucrat took the peeler and a sack of each vegetable off to a corner, wanting to be far away in case her hand suddenly slipped. But when she tried peeling, nothing bad happened at all, and the vegetables were prepped well—the woman unbelievably surprised by her own proficiency.
Dicatta went back to his work, able to continue properly now that there weren’t eyes burning a hole in him. But when he looked over later to check on Chiulu’s progress, he found the woman sobbing uncontrollably. “Umm, did the smell of the onions I’m chopping get to you?” he checked.
“No!” Chiulu responded beneath her tears. “It just feels so good to be useful!”