"Revenge? That's your reason for attacking Mayor Sunbearer?" Halkken said, summarizing what he'd gathered from Nitao's choppy explanation.
"He killed our princess." Despite his serious injuries—most only half-treated since he'd gone on the run—the Konquellian stood tall, daring the officer interviewing him to contradict him. "Our people have suffered because of him. Sunbearer deserves death."
"I see. And your connection to Rocke Ralss's resistance?"
"They are friends," Nitao replied, but offered no further detail. As before, he refused to surrender any information about his cohorts. The Konquellian won't be an easy nut to crack—if he broke at all.
Halkken questioned the suspect further about Jafia and her possible whereabouts, but got nowhere. The Konquellian was eager to explain his motives for the assassination attempt, but little else. After another hour of questioning, Halkken surrendered. There was always tomorrow. Besides, he had another, less savory duty to perform.
After making a hand signal, four officers arrived to unchain Nitao from the chair and returned him to his cell. While these precautions seemed excessive, the Konquellian had shown his terrible strength before. It had taken ten officers to restrain him during his first arrest.
"Thoughts?" Shiisaa asked as Halkken emerged from the interrogation room.
"We're wasting our time questioning him. He won't talk." The language barrier didn't help, but Nitao would stay loyal to his friends.
"Possible," Shiisaa replied. "But his injuries might help us press him into talking. We can make his life really uncomfortable."
"Forget it. We'll find Jafia and her other ally, regardless." A massive manhunt was searching for the pair. They'd chase her to the ends of the earth if needed. Halkken swore on his job and honor he'd capture the assassin.
"Do you believe his story?" Shiisaa asked, changing the subject.
"About him avenging the honor of a princess Mayor Sunbearer killed in his youth after a love affair gone horribly wrong? I believe it." Halkken had heard the anger in the man's words, even with his difficulty speaking their language. Some things spoke louder than words. "Though, it reflects poorly on our dear mayor."
"I'm inclined to agree." Shiisaa had been listening in from an adjacent room behind one-sided glass. "Mayor Sunbearer has a reputation for philandering."
Something else supported Nitao's words: Sunbearer himself. Halkken reflected on their meeting back in the hospital. The mayor seemed like someone haunted by the past. It explained why he'd been so obsessed with Nitao's capture—fearful of retribution for his past sins. This fear had dogged him until it drove him over the edge. The doctors still had Sunbearer under sedation for his own safety. While his actions were reprehensible, Halkken still pitied the man. He'd likely never return to a proper mental state to resume his duties.
"What about Jafia Kelvas? Any hint about her motives?" Despite what the media claimed, he remained unconvinced Rocke's resistance group was behind the attempted assassination. It didn't quite square with what they knew about the man.
"I have an answer for that!" Phú2 said, chiming in from Halkken's phone.
"Oh?" Halkken asked, curious.
"It's something the late chief said." The AI's voice turned sad at the mention of their former boss, her digital avatar sagging somewhat. "He told me, after one of Mayor Sunbearer's endless rants about capturing Nitao, that he suspected she was a Vanderfall spy!"
"Really?" Halkken considered this. Hadn't the late chief suspected she was behind Secretary Loffie's death? And those cold eyes. He shuddered. They were the eyes of a killer.
"It took some digging, but I found this." Phú2 displayed a report of a woman named Jafia Bronfreld, a war orphan who'd grown up in a state-sanctioned orphanage, no family.
"Says she grew up in Califran, Vanderfall." Halkken frowned as he read further. "She's supposed to be dead, drowned at fifteen in an accident." This might be convincing, except the girl displayed in the photo shared a striking resemblance to their suspect. Still, assumptions made for sloppy police work. "How certain are you this is our suspect, Phú2?" Besides, sharing the same first name didn't mean anything.
"Eighty percent. The images of her face I hold match my projections of what Jafia Bronfreld would look like ten years later. Though not an exact science, I'm confident they are the same person," Phú2 said.
"That's good enough for me. We'll confirm this after we capture her," Halkken replied. "Discover what you can about a Konquellian princess named Serai Hualzeo. I want to check Nitao's story."
A cough interrupted their conversation, and Shiisaa pointed to his phone's clock. Halkken immediately sobered. It was time. While not a task he relished, he'd do his duty. It was time for Operation Ugly Duckling to begin.
///
"He certainly has a flair for theatrics," Maple said, amused.
"It's definitely bold," Rocke said, shaking his head.
Some might call it suicidal considering the law was after them, but his friend remained undeterred from his duty. Rocke supposed the logic made sense. Almost the entire nation would be tuning in for this historic event. Sickeningly, there was even a parade accompanying the proceedings. If Matthias preached to the camera, this might move some to repent their evil ways. It might be their last chance before the Sovereign's day of judgment. Only three short days remained.
Still, while a worthy cause, it was a heck of a risk. Since Matthias wouldn't change his mind, Rocke swore he'd ensure the operation went off without a hitch. With Nitao still helping Jafia on her own mission, it left him with the job of keeping everyone safe. His hand never left his sidearm, eyes peeled for any trouble.
"Hooven, how is the camera?" Rocke asked.
From the news feed, Rocke saw people getting ready for the parade, making last-minute adjustments and orders. They were hiding on a shopping center's top floor, the same building that had once housed the apartment he'd shared with Marsh. Rocke had considered visiting his friend, but decided against it. Marsh had sold him out before. Besides, it was too painful to see him again. Rocke wanted to leave that chapter of his life behind him. He doubted he'd ever see his family again.
Matthias's plan was to stand on the building's roof as he declared his message, his image projected through a giant hologram above him. It would surely draw the news crews and watching cameras' attention. Finding holographic emitters at such short notice had been tricky, but the Sovereign provided. He'd have to thank old man Carkus for his help later.
"They seem fine enough?" Kallane's uncle replied, scratching his head. The camera would capture his friend's 3D image, then the projectors would emit a building-sized hologram. "I'm only a doctor. I don't really understand this technical stuff."
"It should be fine," Maple replied, shooting her brother a smile. "No need to be so worried. The Sovereign watches over us."
But the man remained on edge. He'd been oddly fidgety lately, always looking over his shoulder for trouble. Rocke could relate. They were in enemy territory. He wondered if Hooven should have departed for Hagion with the other Ottomon. Still, that he was here despite his obvious fear spoke highly of him.
"Five minutes until Operation Ugly Duckling starts." Through his comm, Kallane spat her words, not hiding her disdain. "Everything seems good on our end." She stood in an adjacent building, making sure Projector 1 was in position.
"Everything's good on my end," Dallas said. He handled Projector 2 in another nearby building.
"Good." Rocke's mouth twisted in distaste as the news camera crews focused on the cages holding the captive Ottomon.
From their disheveled appearance, and the gauntness caused by lack of food, they looked like ghouls being righteously banished from the beautiful, holy Vladus. What a joke.
Because of the mayor's injuries from yesterday's assassination attempt, Prime Minister Luciest took on the duty of delivering the speech that would begin this twisted procession. The camera crews focused on him, pristine in a white suit that cost more than most sports cars. His smile was radiant and benevolent, belying the sick, twisted thing he was about to do. Rocke saw no hint of guilt in the Prime Minister's face. No—he seemed exuberant.
"Citizens, today is an auspicious day!" Sunbearer's expression was solemn. "This task gives me no pleasure, but for the welfare and prosperity of the city and our great nation, I'm given no choice. For centuries, the Ottomon have caused disorder in our peaceful society, claiming we have done them a great disservice. But when we extend a hand of friendship to them, they spit in our faces! They insist we should adhere to their outdated, superstitious beliefs.
"When we dare think otherwise, they lash out in violence. Just look at what happened yesterday! Instead of voicing their complaints like civilized people, they attempted to kill our dear Mayor Sunbearer. Political violence is no answer. The Ottomon—the 'Demons'—have shown time and again what their outdated religion truly preaches: bigotry and violence. They give me no choice but to force them from our grand city. But don't hate them. Hatred fuels their misguided, unjustified anger toward us. Instead, pity them. Hope that one day they will let go of their superstition and bigotry. Once they do, the UOP will welcome them back with open arms as friends."
This earned uproarious applause from the audience, buying every silver word their prime minister spoke. Inside, Rocke withered, finally seeing the snake behind the immaculate mask. How could he speak such blatant lies so shamelessly? Rock seethed as the crowd roared in applause. A comforting hand grabbed his shoulder and squeezed.
"Don't worry. They can still repent," his friend Matthias said. "How about I offer them some actual truth?"
"Break a leg, then." But Rocke's mouth was dry, knowing how much rode on this. If his friend failed, Vladus was likely beyond saving. "Start the camera, Hooven."
"Huh?" The man blinked in confusion before nodding. Had he been so disturbed by the Prime Minister's speech? "Right." He rushed over to the camera and fiddled with the controls.
Like a force of nature, Matthias sauntered onto the roof, his dusty cloak flapping in the wind. He walked to the precipice, the wind threatening to throw him to his doom. But he stood strong, like a mighty oak facing a terrible storm and remaining upright. He gazed down at the city that hated him for speaking their sins. Yet the prophet's eyes remained compassionate, ready to extend the hand of friendship without question.
Emboldened by their prime minister's words, the cages holding the Ottomon captives had already begun their trek to the outer city. Citizens on the street jeered at them, some throwing trash at the captives. The police did nothing to stop the humiliation. An orchestra band followed behind, playing a triumphant fanfare.
Inside, Rocke seethed, clenching and unclenching his hand. He wanted to scream, to rage at the fools for such cruelty. Hadn't the Ottomon people suffered enough? He couldn't believe Matthias was risking his life to save these people. Why was the Sovereign even bothering? They obviously weren't worth saving. He should just burn Vladus right now.
"It's for the best." Hooven caught Rocke's dark expression. "They made their own bed."
"I guess." Rocke felt guilty, knowing Matthias would rebuke his angry thoughts. But how could anyone love someone who hated them? Who threw such bile and hateful words? Still, there Matthias stood, full of compassion and love for his wayward people. It melted Rocke's heart somewhat. He wished he could be more like his friend. Where did he find such inner strength?
"You know me." Matthias's words pierced through the procession, and everyone looked up in astonishment at the holographic figure as it blinked into place, looming over them. Yet the prophet didn't appear like some mighty god ready to pronounce judgment. No—he seemed like a guiding light ready to shine the right path.
"You know my mission. The Sovereign gave me a message, one of hope and warning. See these poor souls being led out of the city in cages like animals? 'Demons' is a cruel label given to them, but it isn't the truth. I have lived many years with them. I have eaten with them, shared fellowship with them. Many I consider worthy of calling friend. They aren't perfect, though. Some Ottomon are just a cruel and heartless as the worst criminal. But how are you any different?"
For whatever reason, Hooven fidgeted after Matthias said this. But Rocke ignored him, focusing on his friend's speech.
"These people were once your friends, neighbors, fellow countrymen. Like you, they just wanted to live their lives, provide for their families. They don't deserve the treatment you are giving them. But it's not too late. You can extend a hand to them and welcome them back with open arms, in love and brotherhood. The Sovereign told me that Vladus had forty days until judgment. Little time remains."
"But I don't view these final three days as a countdown, but an opportunity for repentance. We've all fallen short of the glory of the Sovereign, myself included. He is our father, or creator. And like any loving father, he must punish his disobedient children. Like you, I am also a sinner, guilty of death and judgment. The Sovereign is a compassionate father, willing to offer forgiveness. People, I urge you: use these last three days wisely. While the Sovereign is a loving god, he is also a judge. His mercy extends only so far. You, I—everyone—will be held accountable for their actions. So please choose life, not death. Grace is open to you; you only need to ask."
"Matthias…" Rocke found tears pricking his eyelids and wiped them clean. Matthias's words had pierced him to the soul. He felt guilty for his earlier angry thoughts. It showed him how far he needed to go to become more like his mentor.
"Nice speech. What do you think?" Rocke said, turning to his companion, then he frowned in confusion.
For whatever reason, Hooven had disappeared. But why? A call of nature? But a nagging doubt hung over him, and Rocke searched around for the man.
"Hooven!" Rocke glanced down the stairwell, but found it empty. Thankfully, no guards had arrived to arrest them yet.
"Rocke!" Kallane said, gasping in alarm. Rocke turned to see what had frightened his friend. His breath caught, unable to believe his eyes.
Hooven had snuck onto the roof. From his coat pocket, he produced a laser pistol. Distracted by his speech, Matthias hadn't noticed his attacker sneaking up on him from behind. Hooven lifted the weapon, the barrel of the pistol appearing in the holographic projection above them, aimed right at Matthias's head.
"Matthias!" Rocke rushed to save his friend—anything to stop what was about to happen.
Doubt flickered in Hooven's eyes, his finger quivering on the trigger. But then his eyes hardened as his resolve solidified into lead, and he pulled the trigger.