The wheels squeaked as the wheelchair turned a corner. Mace - feeble and ostensibly pissed - rigid on the heavy-duty device that had been integrated with braces running from his hip to his lower leg, thick layers of bandages encasing his thighs beneath the braces.
The doctor pushed ahead towards a flood of white light at the end of the hallway, each step taken with practical ease and composure.
"Where's this leading to?" Mace asked grumpily, looking over his shoulder.
"To Sire," the doctor answered.
Mace turned back right in time to see it clearly:
A doorway.
An arched magical doorway used to get from one unrelated place to another.
That's what the white flood of light was.
The symbol markings and glowing gemstones - normally along its edge - were all the more clear now. And strangely morbid.
Smears of blood could also be seen near the symbols if looked at more keenly.
Mace smirked.
The white brilliance swallowed them in.
------------
Sitting in the expansive, pristine office - with his vandalised legs stretched out before him - Mace's mind remained jumbled up with the reminiscences of the earlier day's events.
A bitter curvature was forming up the side of his mouth when the doors suddenly flew open.
Silence.
Authority and regality stepped in.
Kristov.
Green eyes, blond hair, tanned skin, imposing build. And an intoxicating yet subtle intensity.
"Hallo, bruder," he greeted, all too lightly, as he made his way to his desk, barely sparing Mace a glance.
A familiar, young, stunning lady in jeans and a crop top stepped in after Kristov before the doors immediately closed behind her - her long braids swinging rhythmically to the swaying of her body as she listened to her music.
She stopped dead in her tracks when her eyes finally landed on Mace.
"...Mace?" She almost snorted, a visible smile forming at the side of her mouth.
She pulled her earphones out.
"Is that you?" Now she was teasing.
"Play nice," Kristov ordered from the comfort of his chair, swinging in arcs in it.
Mace rolled his eyes with a dragged groan.
"Wow, Kristov," Cahin flipped to Kristov. "When you said he'd be in braces..." She glanced back at Mace briefly, then turned back to Kristov. "I had a whole 'wheelchaired amusement park' idea playing in my head."
Amusement beamed brighter as she walked closer to Mace.
Mace glared in reprisal.
She didn't care. She went ahead and placed her hand on the plastic device, feeling its matte smoothness from just below the hem of Mace's shorts, all the way down to his lower leg.
"But this," she continued, standing up. "This is better."
"I mean, it's not all dramatic as the metal ones would have been... but it still fits the agenda: Making Mace look just as vulnerable as he is."
"Classic," she remarked, sashaying away towards Kristov's desk.
"Too bad you have an unjust, incredibly fast, and ridiculous healing ability," she said, perching herself onto the desk - arms supporting her weight behind her, and legs crossed.
Mace was SEETHING.
He snapped to Kristov. "Kristov?" He beseeched.
"What?" Kristov retorted with a smug smile, straightening up in his chair. "She did play nice."
Mace was dumbfounded.
Cahin dipped her head in Kristov's direction in agreement. "Exactly."
"Is she your new favourite?" Mace prompted.
Kristov gave him a long stare first. Then he spoke more collectedly. "Nope. Humphery is."
Cahin flipped a disappointed look at Kristov.
"She's my second favourite," Kristov added deliberately.
"Surely, Kristov, we've just had a huge, major debacle in your plans; lost the boy wonder, and, oh, if you hadn't noticed yet - had my legs literally severed off in the process - only to, pissingly so, found them reattached to me in a fucking basement, that's not a hospital."
"And you are here, lavishing this cunt-"
Cahin recoiled.
"With what she fucking wants to hear, and statements about who's your favourite."
"I mean, what's up with you? Does that calm demeanour of yours stretch this far? And does it also dumben you to be with this girl right now? She's sitting on your desk, Kristov!"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Cahin eased, getting off Kristov's desk. "First, you're a dick too. So I guess we are all genitals. Second, the desk was pretty much vacant, so I sat there. You can too if you want... Wait!"
She froze, eyes wandering around as if in thought. Then looked back at Mace.
"You can't," she announced, beaming, staring straight at Mace's legs.
"And third," she said, starting to pace about in the room. "If THIS is how you can react to Kristov not ranking you amongst his favourites..."
She went into a deliberate silence. Then stared back up at Mace in a slow, sinister way.
"I wonder how you'd react if Kristov stopped seeing you as a brother."
Something vulnerable and heavy flashed across Mace's eyes. Too quick for him to hide.
Cahin smiled in appeasement.
"All things considered," she concluded, clapping her hands together. "You can avert the long way and straight up ask for my number. Not that I'll respond to you, though. Puppy dog."
"Oh," she said, as if stumbling into an epiphany. "I think I'll call you that from now. Puppy dog."
She went ahead and reperched herself on Kristov's desk.
Sighing deeply, Kristov stared between the two people in the room with him.
He stayed like that for a while - Mace also silent, and Cahin clearly uncomfortable.
Clearing his throat, Kristov began. "Um, Cahin... I want you to know two things today. Two very important things."
The atmosphere shifted.
"First off, you are my responsibility now. Have been ever since your mother's passing. And I care for you, as my own - as my niece. Second of all, and most importantly, Mace is and will forever be my brother - no questions asked. We've come a long way with that punk, and I know he can be a dick some... No. Most times. But that doesn't put you in a position to discredit my loyalty to him. Okay?"
Cahin, with her head turned to face Kristov, nodded in painful understanding.
"I understand."
Leaping off the desk, she dusted her hands before turning to Kristov one final time.
"Um, excuse me, Sire-"
Kristov sighed in disappointment.
"But I'd like to excuse myself and wander about in this huge, fancy... hotel." She perked up a brittle smile.
Kristov gave another long, exhausted sigh. "You're excused. But-"
Before Kristov could finish talking, Cahin plugged her earphones back into her ears and resumed the music, skipping dancingly towards the door.
Kristov watched defeatedly slumped in his chair.
Mace beamed openly.
-------------
The doors eased shut behind Cahin before Kristov quickly whirled to Mace.
"Nice work, Kristo-"
Kristov cut in sharply. "Know how to control yourself around that girl, bruder."
Mace recoiled, face all contoured.
"Am serious," Kristov stressed, standing up from the chair. "You better kill this thing you have for her-"
"She ambushed me!"
"Doesn't she have good reasons for that?" Kristov asked sternly, with raised brows, his weight supported forward by his hands on the desk.
"Mace," Kristov started again, rubbing his nose. "I meant what I said about her being my responsibility now."
"You mean niece?"
"Exactly."
"You really are The Foster Father, huh?"
Kristov kept quiet for a while, staring straight into Mace's eyes.
"I guess I am," he finally responded. "I guess I am."
"And it's because I am," Kristov carried on, "that I don't want any funny business between the two of you-"
"What do you mean funny business?"
"You know what I mean."
"Excuse me?"
"Excuse you."
"I... I uh. I barely know the girl. What's it been, huh? Eine Woche? Why would you think that? Why does everybody think that?!... She's not even my type."
"Why? Cause she's black?"
"Pfft. No."
"Hm."
"Seriously, Kristov! Am not racist!"
"Just keep your hands off her. Hm?"
Mace was still dumbfounded.
"Now to business." Kristov rounded to the front of his desk and sat on it, his legs both crossed and stretched out before him - his arms folded. "I'd like to know what exactly happened out there."
Mace looked up from his trance and stared at him. "Why didn't you start with that when you got here?"
"You know." Kristov raised his shoulders. "I was mulling it over while you two were busy squabbling."
"You enjoyed every minute of that squabble, Kristov, so don't bullshit me right now."
Kristov sighed and uncrossed his arms. "Fine. I was waiting for Cahin to leave."
"What's your game plan, Kristov? Your real game plan."
A beat.
"What do you mean?" Kristov inquired. "I mean, you know pretty much about-"
"No, I don't. I didn't know about your affiliation with a Tiekr until... what was it? A fortnight ago?"
"I didn't know that you didn't want her daughter, that you have so altruistically taken under your wing, to know everything about this. Whatever this really is. And I don't know why you aren't raging your brains out, considering everything in today's plan went royally into shit - and put a huge blot in your grandeur plan. Heck! It screwed it over!"
"You can't know everything about me. You know that, Mace. Just like I can't know everything about you."
Kristov leaned forward, clasped his hands, and pressed them against his chin - his elbows pressing into his thighs.
"Now, I'm very sorry about what happened to you out there, Mace-"
"You can just say my legs got sawed off."
"And about the loss of your brethren."
"They were never my brethren."
"But as you could have already put together, there was an uncalculated variable. The only real threat we had anticipated for was Lynette."
"Hm," Mace nodded while in thought. "And instead you got a terramic. What are the odds?" He looked up at Kristov.
"Jengra already told me the bit before the ambush."
Mace's eyebrows shot up. "He's alive?" It was more of a realisation than a question.
"He and some of the others who were with you."
"I didn't see him in the basement. I mean, there were other rooms. But it pretty much felt like I was alone there."
"He woke up before you did."
"So he and the others who survived didn't really 'beast out' after the ambush, did they?"
"No. They didn't."
"But him being alive and briefing you on what happened before the bushwhack doesn't really clear up how you know it was a terramic that attacked us. The ones who knew all got blown up. And you knew before I just told you right now."
"Yes. I knew. As cunning as the terramic was in trying to cover up his tracks, he forgot one very damning thing. The circular blade found lodged in a tree. The one that can only be made, or rather terred, by a terramic. And the same one that severed your legs and Jengra's arm."
Mace scoffed in amusement.
"A smart one, that one," Kristov continued, straightening up. "I guess he was in a rush. Hence the slip-up."
"Or he just left it there intentionally. He really was ingenious."
Something sparked in Mace's eyes. "But wait!... How? Am pretty sure the second contingent wasn't that far off after we got exploded. And we left the terramic in an amusingly hospitable shape before Edward went god-fury on us. So when did the guy get time to cover his tracks? Or is Edward a terramic too?"
"Since you were attacked in the varda, I might just say that the guy had a supernatural friend, or that Edward just... manned up. Either way, you know what they say; Terramics are as hard as the substance they terr. And I'm also not surprised that they still exist."
Mace gave him a blank stare.
"What did you mean by him leaving that saw blade there intentionally?" Kristov asked suddenly.
"I wouldn't know. At this point, my head hurts thinking about everything. There's nothing to salvage, Kristov. All that time watching that boy and waiting for him to damn himself as he eventually did. All of those efforts to accelerate the plan. Only to end up like this - with nothing but failure to lick from the scraps of our bowls."
"We are not dogs. And, hey - don't be so hard on yourself. We knew this would be the toughest mission we'd ever take on in our lives. Right?"
"Then why are you not mad? Anxious? Anything?"
Kristov just gave a light smile.
"You just lost a great deal of manpower out there today. And I... I almost died too-"
"Hey," Kristov started toward Mace.
"No!" Mace stopped him. "I mean, I know I'm the reason you've had more difficulties than none in achieving your life goals. I'm not stupid, Kristov - just as I know I'm not well in the head. But even with all my craziness, I couldn't help but feel utter fear and vulnerability when Edward had me hovering before him - his bloodcurdling eyes burning through me. For the first time in a long time, I was terrified."
He pulled the t-shirt he was wearing down by the neck. A tattoo was visible at the right side of his chest.
"I mean, I knew that I wasn't really in my body, thanks to this Chinese fúlù stuff that allows voluntary possession." He let the shirt go. "But I was still numb to the core with fear."
"All I'm trying to say, Kristov, is that for once in your life, or just again, you need to not be calm about something. This is HUGE and you know it. So please just put some desperation into it."
A slight smile spread across the side of Kristov's face as he walked toward Mace.
"Trust me, bruder, there's nothing calm about me right now concerning this entire, fantastical, debacle."
He stopped before him and pocketed his hands.
"I just have... a slight detour, or rather distraction, that eventually leads up to the main plan."
"Wh-what are you talking about?" Mace seemed pretty agitated.
The doors burst open suddenly and someone walked in briskly.
Humphery.
Tablet in hand, his face was all ashen - almost too ashen for his chocolate skin - as beads of sweat dripped down from his forehead.
"Sire," he started, breaths in huffs, voice all-too-familiarly composed and low. "There's an emergency."
Mace was wide-eyed the whole time.
"What kind of emergency?" Kristov prompted, unpocketing his hands and folding them on his chest.
Humphery passed the tablet to him.
Kristov took it calmly.
Mace was baffled. "Um... what's happening? And why did this guy just barge in like that?"
Kristov handed the tablet back to Humphery, face a bit scrunched up now.
"Because, as I said; he's my first favourite."
Mace's face fell.
Humphery stole a quick side glance at Kristov before averting his attention back onto the tablet, fingers flying across the screen, his demeanour all the more calm than when he had walked in.
"And you recall the 'detour in plan' talk?" Kristov continued, squinting his eyes at Mace.
"Yeah, yeah. Of course. You just told me that right now," Mace responded hastily. "What about it?"
"So, there's this African artefact, amongst other things, that has to be retrieved for the grand plan itself..."
Mace's face bunched up even more.
"It's the reason I couldn't come, or rather do, the kidnapping exercise myself. I was held up with Cahin... borrowing? The artefact from its sanctum."
Mace nodded in obvious disappointment.
"Hey," Kristov went ahead and placed his hands on his shoulders. Mace looked up.
"I'm not shutting out or anything. Nor am I playing favourites - I know how much you hate that. I just have my reasons for not confiding everything in anybody. And I need you to trust in that - to trust in me. It's all in good cause, bruder."
Their eyes lingered in a stare.
"Okay," Mace nodded.
"Umm, Sire?" Humphery prodded.
Kristov knew exactly what that meant. He turned to Mace one final time, hands still on his shoulders.
"And, bruder, you know why I couldn't take you to the hospital. Right?"
"Yeah," Mace nodded in understanding. "To stay under the bureau's radar and stuff."
Kristov gave him a side pat before standing up.
Humphery was already hurtling towards the exit.
Kristov marched after him.
He stopped suddenly at the doors and craned his neck back at Mace.
"Oh, and I still need to know everything about what happened out there. In de-"
"No, you don't," Mace cut him short, slumping relaxedly into the wheelchair - eyes narrowed in a silent dare.
Kristov held the stare for a while before finally giving in.
"Fine. I already knew what had happened out there. Happy?"
"How exactly?"
"Had some witches go through the last memories of your fallen brethren."
Mace gave an eye-roll before carrying on.
"But isn't that taboo?"
"Aren't we?" Kristov challenged, shrugged, then walked off.