As I descended from the final rooftop, my footsteps echoing softly against the pavement, I found myself standing before the imposing façade of the police station's entrance. With a steady hand, I reached out and pushed open the sliding door, crossing the threshold into the familiar interior. The atmosphere within the station was heavy with a solemn gravity, a stark contrast to the vibrant energy that had once filled these halls during my training sessions with Tony. As I made my way through the main lobby, my eyes fell upon an officer stationed at the check-in area, his attention focused intently on a stack of papers before him.
His gaze flickered up to meet mine, his expression transformed into one of shock—an emotion so profound that it seemed to transcend mere surprise. For a brief moment, silence hung heavy in the air. Then, without a word, the officer abruptly rose from his seat, his movements frantic as he fumbled with the trapdoor leading to the backrooms. I could hear the muffled sound of his hurried footsteps as he disappeared from sight. With little else to do but wait, I made my way to a nearby chair and settled into its comfort, allowing the weariness of my recent ordeal to wash over me. Closing my eyes, I allowed myself a moment of rest.
As I sensed the presence of another person entering the room, my eyes turned towards the source, revealing the unexpected figure of Ethan. His appearance struck me with a sense of bewilderment—his usually pristine demeanor now marred by a disheveled appearance, as if he had allowed himself to unravel in the wake of recent events. It was a stark departure from the composed individual I had encountered in our one previous interaction. These last months took a heavy toll on us all. His voice, tinged with a hint of uncertainty, cut through the station's overbearing silence "That's you, Oren, right?" he inquired, his eyes searching mine for confirmation. With a nod, I affirmed my identity. "Yeah, it's me. I have a whole lot to catch up, don't I?" I remarked, a wry smile tugging at the corners of my lips. Ethan returned the nod, his expression grave. "Yeah, let's talk in the back." he suggested, gesturing towards the rear of the station.
Without hesitation, I followed him down the left hallway, his silhouette leading the way. Stopping before the furthest door, Ethan indicated the room with a subtle gesture. "This room, please," he requested, his voice urgent. As we entered the sparsely furnished room the room held nothing but a solitary soda, a table, and two seats—a stark contrast to the bustling activity of the station beyond its walls. "Sit down, it's time to talk," Ethan declared, his voice carrying the weight of the police on his shoulders.
As I settled into my seat, Ethan wasted no time in unveiling the contents of his briefcase. With a deliberate motion, he unlocked the clutches securing it and withdrew four papers, each bearing the visage of a different individual along with a corresponding title. Two were crudely sketched portraits, while the other two displayed photographs of their subjects. One of the faces struck a chord of recognition within me—the Representative of Division. Despite the poor quality of the sketch, his unmistakable features were quite memorable from our recent encounter at the hospital. Ethan's inquiry broke the silence that hung heavy in the air, his voice measured as he asked, "Any of these people look familiar?" I nodded, my gaze fixed upon the photograph of Division's Representative. "Yes, I do." I confirmed. "He's the Representative of Division. I just fought him at the hospital."
A brief chuckle escaped Ethan's lips before he composed himself once more, his expression solemn as he delved into the heart of the matter. "It was a hit, one carried out by some of the strongest people in the Alliance." he explained, his tone laden with gravity. "The strongest one being the Representative of Division. We've confirmed his role—it's a 'deterrent'. His mere presence alone is enough to quell dissent and prevent many from daring to challenge them." Crossing my arms, I was angered by their hit, their audacity to do such horrendous things. Best thing, though, they only targeted me.
"I'm surprised you're alive," he remarked, his tone solemn. "Our predictions were correct. You've grown to a level where you're handily able to take down representatives." Before I could dwell on the implications of his assessment, Ethan's demeanor shifted, his expression clouded with a sense of foreboding. "We have some bad news, however." he continued, his voice laden with sadness. Bad news? The words echoed in my mind like a harbinger of doom, the sense of dread gnawing at the edges of my consciousness. Leaning in close, Ethan's sympathetic tone belied the severity of his revelation as he uttered the words that shattered my world into a million jagged pieces. "Aroha was taken a week ago." he disclosed, his voice heavy with the weight of the truth.
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The news struck me like a physical blow, igniting a firestorm of rage and anguish within me. I clenched my teeth so tightly that I could taste blood, my veins pulsating with an intensity that threatened to consume me whole. With a primal roar of frustration, I lashed out, slamming my fist into the desk with a force that tore through the wood as if it were paper. "Your one job is to protect her while I'm gone and give me intel on the Alliance! You failed this simpl—" I seethed, my voice rising. I want to.. I want to kill them! Ethan swiftly intervened, producing his phone with lightning speed as he urged me to regain control of my emotions. "Watch! Don't lose your emotions," he implored.
As Ethan clicked play on the video, I braced myself for the worst. But nothing could have prepared me for the gut-wrenching sight that unfolded before my eyes. There she was—Aroha, bound and gagged, her tear-stained eyes pleading for salvation amidst the darkness that enveloped her. Bruises marred her delicate skin, which hurt my very soul. My heart clenched with anguish and sin as I watched helplessly, my nails digging into my sins. And then, as if from the depths of hell itself, emerged the perpetrator of this heinous crime—a well-built man with short black hair, his twisted visage casting a shadow of fear and despair over the scene. "This is for you, those who are against us! And for Oren, whenever he wakes up." he declared with a sadistic pleasure. "We got your little girlfriend. Come to Colorado if you want a chance at saving her! In two weeks, she will be burned to death." The threat was real, more real than anything before. Of all my trials, she was never truly hurt. Now, though? And then, to add insult to injury, he reached out and cruelly grabbed Aroha by the chin, his twisted grin sending my emotions reeling. "Does this anger you, Oren? Seeing her in such pain?" he taunted, his words a dagger to my already wounded soul.
The desire to unleash hell upon her tormentor, to exact a vengeance so merciless that it would make God himself tremble, burned fiercely within me. Ethan retreated the phone, as if he knew I couldn't handle more. With a heavy heart, I swallowed back the tide of rage threatening to engulf me, my resolve hardening like tempered steel.
"Sorry for showing you that, I thought you could handle it. You're more human than we thought," Ethan offered, his voice tinged with genuine remorse. And for a fleeting moment, I caught a glimpse of the vulnerability that lurked beneath his stoic facade—a reminder that even those tasked with protecting us were not immune to the ravages of empathy.
But amidst the darkness, Ethan held out a glimmer of hope—a dim beacon amidst the despair. "We know where she is. She's being held in Cortez, near Ute Mountain. We don't know exactly, but she's in that town." he revealed, his words a lifeline in the depths of despair. My heart raced with a renewed sense of purpose as the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. Cortez. Ute Mountain. It all clicked into place—what Division told me. "That's where Division told me to meet him. This was planned!" I realized with dread.
I made my decision. "Division is at Ute Mountain. I'm heading there right now," I declared, my voice laced with a determination born of desperation. Ethan rose from his seat, his agreement evident in the firm set of his jaw. "Yes, let's head there. I can get us a fast plane escort to an encampment near that region. We can be there in hours. Let's go." he suggested, his offer one of practicality and expediency. I knew in that moment that this was a battle I had to face now—not one that I could merely wait on a plane. Placing my palm firmly on the table, I met Ethan's gaze. "No, I'm going there now." I asserted.
I rose from my seat and swiftly exited the station. Ignoring the clamor of the bustling city streets around me, I broke into a run, my feet pounding against the pavement with a relentless rhythm. Dodging cars and weaving through throngs of pedestrians, I raced through the maze of urban sprawl, my mind singularly focused on the task at hand. Each step brought me closer to my destination, the distant horizon beckoning me on. The city blurred into an explosion of motion and noise, a blur of colors and sounds that faded into insignificance as I pressed forward. With every breath, every heartbeat, I propelled myself onward, driven by a burning desire to reach Aroha before it was too late. As I left the city behind me, the denseness of urban life gradually gave way to the serene quiet of the open road.
Be there in hours, Ethan? No. I'll be there in minutes.