Back to Present:
Facade was still driving the car like a missile, overtaking the crawling cars with swift glides all while coursing through bumps with an unpredictable momentum. While he bolted his near-to-dead engine, the splitting of the road gradually zoomed in before his view, the Y-junction pressing him down to make a quick decision.
He was supposed to take the left, which would lead him to the desired location in about two minutes of break-necking speed. Despite that, Facade took the right, spinning the fused wheels towards the sinking sun.
'8:45'
Fifteen minutes remained to land at the marked location, yet Facade coursed the opposite lane, visiting a place before starting on the assigned expedition.
'2. Destroy the Mundand Family (Personal Initiatives)'
The second point of his self-simulated list echoed along the rushing interior, bringing to light the importance of its completion. The visit alone would be a stepping stone to Facade's personal schemes, enabling him to move on to the third within the same day.
The thunderous ride came to a halt when he slightly stepped on the brake pedal, gradually slowing the pace of blurring figures. Although the only parking he got was a small spacing between the massive trucks, he screeched the car with a fast skid, squeezing his tiny vehicle to fix neatly among the pair.
Facade dismounted without a care after slamming the door hard on its hinges, while the passersby were left concerned over the whacking sound. Their sharp gazes were instantly ignored by Facade's indifferent ones, eventually leaving behind the perplexed faces in a daze.
He was still dressed in the same outfit, the one that he attended the event with. But this time, the beauty of his fine fabrics was conflictually overlaid by his outworn cloak, spotlighting him out of the everyday crowd.
Facade's pace took a boost when he began striding with long yet placid footings. The glimpses from all around his sides were quite persistent, not giving away a chance to miss the exceptional rarity in front of them.
"Mummy, look! A moving statue!" A kid busted with joy as he engraved his little feet against the ground. Instead of replying in denial, the mother added on. "My, my. Looks like there's no limit to innovations, I see."
Children often resembled Facade to fantasy figures, some inspired by games, some by fictional characters. But today, a grown-up had declared him as a walking mannequin, throwing Facade into the pits of humiliation.
Facade brushed past the amazed strangers, reaching the delicate glass door to his right. "I'm a walking mannequin alright," he muttered in his hoarse voice, pushing the door with the desired force. The gush of his mumble ultimately reached both the toddler and his guardian, stunning them with more surprises.
He was already inside the swarming building; however, the wind had carried a ripple of the kid's innocent blended voice.
"Mommy, he talks!"
The glass door deliberately swung shut, cutting out the mother's response. Facade sighed, not from exhaustion this time, but from the numerous commentaries undertaking his frame.
He spun his focus to the space before him, noting the uniformity in the building's décor. The interior was, as always, surged with countless strangers, most of them reporting burglary cases to heedful mediators. "Welcome to the report headquarters, how may I help you?" One of the uniformed men popped out of nowhere, greeting as though Facade had entered a lavish hotel.
"Thank you for visiting the report headquarters. Report headquarters is going to close after fifteen minutes. We request our esteemed citizens to file their reports within time. Thank you for visiting..."
The announcement added a layer to the bustle inside, repeating the same sentence a couple of times.
'Report Headquarters'. It was a place where multiple issues were jotted not only by ink, but carved inside the mediators' space of thinking. Even though Facade was reluctant to praise the aged structure of the renowned quarter, its services made him utter a word or two.
The assistance of the report headquarters was a shard of marvel, as the resolve demands only one day to be fixed by the public servants, making them one of the most respectable standings of the Kingdom of Laurae.
"You're yet again struck by illegal property snatching, I guess?" The man a foot away from Facade inquired further, all without a speck of dazzlement spilling from his tone. "No." Facade retorted back, being sure that his frequent visits were making him permanent inside the four walls. "I'll be fine on my own," he finished, declining the man's offer in an instant.
"I knew you would say that, sir." The serviceman shrugged his bold shoulders, accepting the decline of his sincere offer for the fifth time. The glass door flung open yet again, and the man hopped back to attend another guest of his day.
Facade, on the other hand, took a straight course to reach the elevator on the opposite corner. As he advanced deep into the well-disciplined environment, he sensed workstations set in rows, both sides of the extending walls occupied by a line of polished compartments.
Each of the busy cabins was tagged with a white number plate over the chocolate brown background, making them easy to identify one among many.
After taking a short lift to the second floor, he quickly stepped out on the marbled ground, suddenly pausing when he grasped the queer scene unfolding before his sight.
The upper floor, which shouldn't be as hectic as the first one, was surging with countless strangers. The clicks of typing keys and the scratching of pens mingled with chatters inside the clogged structure, silent quarrels overflowing the lively horde.
Even though the building was a two-storied apartment, the second floor wasn't as spacious as the first one. Unwanted cartons of documents and numerous everyday supplements were stored at the wall across, consuming a quarter of the expanse.
"Cabin 74 is vacant, sir, should I lead you?" Another serviceman was once more at Facade's doorstep, and he refused the assistance yet again.
The compartments numbered from one to forty occupied the lustrous flooring on the ground level, whereas the onward numbers were active on the second floor. The latter offered its services to resolve major issues, ones that regarded properties and political conflicts altogether, which must be reviewed with minute attention.
Regardless, the workers on the higher floor usually sat at leisure, as those affairs were popular only among the royalties, being completely an oddity to the common folks. But today, the upper floor was struck by multiple visitors, most of the guests renowned members of prestigious families.
Facade braced his footing in the crowded place, finally charging through nothing but blackness from his view.
One step forward. Two steps forward. Three steps forward.
Thud!
"Ow!" After hearing the hushed scream of a lady, Facade hastily retreated his steps, aware that he had knocked over a feminine shoulder.
"M-My apologies." Facade, who would never apologize even if he rode over a breathing soul, was soft towards the opposite gender, acknowledging the womanly race as fragile as snowflakes.
"What happened?" a masculine voice interfered instantly. "Oh, n-nothing." The lady hesitated a bit. "Let's head out, honey." Comforting the temper of her husband, she threw a final glimpse on a queer figure before her eyes.
The couple departed on their own way, and a new bunch filled their place. Facade still ceased at his position, looked at the pitch of void.
It had been long since he was exposed to the true meaning of being blind, the one that he cured by developing yet another sense from scratch.
The sense of 'Abyss perception'.
The name was molded by Facade when he, for the first time, noticed hints of wavelengths before his blackened gaze. There were many kinds: ones that were regular waveforms akin to the silk in the winds, others that were inverted waves, each with different compressions and rarefactions.
It came as an experience that the waves were just another sight of the particular thing, their vibrant colors indicating individuals' traits, their compression unraveling multiple meanings, rarefaction calling upon the gap in targeted objects. Each tiny bit of the flow described what stood before his eyes, as though the eyes of void were blessed in return for his common perception.
It was hard to get hold of the newly born mechanism in just days, or even months. The wavelengths alone were like countless meanings of a single word, characteristics of each rising and dropping oscillation an unlimited dictionary to definite intellect. It held much detail in contrast to Facade's lacking experience, leading him to a trail of errors before grasping the true meaning of each function.
And now, once again, he was left with an ordeal.
I...can't make out anything.
Waveforms tangled like threads the moment he tried to sense his surroundings, green waveforms overlapping blue, blue cladding with yellow, and yellow fluctuating the green with sharp compressions. It was as though a jumbled glitch was tossed inside the tranquility of his black field.
Sweat began to appear on Facade's forehead as time slipped from between his fingers. The minutes that he had to monitor by each fleeting second, were already shrouded by his natural blindness.
Damn it!
He snapped at the disarray, rubbing his hanging fingers in panic. He again tried to unlock his sense, wholly targeting it to the watch around his wrist. The attempt failed, as the result remained undaunted by his sheer will.
The throng from all angles was preserved with their own affairs, mediators busy with unannounced chores while the serviceman erased from the view. He was the immobile one between the teeming individuals, the one who could get nothing but darkness despite being under the bright tube lights.
It's no use to stand still. And, I surely don't have much time to spare.
Facade pondered, looking at the blackout concealing his vision. For the first time in a while, he felt completely useless before 'Abyss perception'.
What could he possibly do if he couldn't spot unannounced assaults? How could he drive miles without giving a glimpse of the roads? It was all thanks to his rare perception that he stood on a different level from those with normal eyes.
But with it benefits, came drawbacks. There were two things that mantled the abyss perception. One, a crowd of people, second, cramped spaces. Having a single out of both meant a hinder for the flowing waves, as the perception keeps a limit to target multiple objects at a time.
The arrangement of seeing a whole scenery was akin to a spacing in each line of a paragraph. If the page is filled, you have to remove its content to write new ones.
In his case, both the cons were present at the same moment, disabling him to target even a single object out of several figures.
Yet, the duty still called him to the front lines, and the option of giving up was bordered from the page of his existence. All that remained was his agile mind.
He closed his blank eyes, blowing out the fear of defeat after being so close to his longing aims. "Think..." he muttered to his thoughtless state, pushing it to awaken the slumbers of its worried reflections.
"Think!" His timber melded with the hubbub of the occupied crowd, closing it upon his tight lips.
Maybe he could back a little and knock over some unknown individual to start a conversation, or wait for the people to naturally lessen in number?
Out of the two options sculpted by his intellect, he selected the second one.
It's a cheap trick, but I'll give it a try.
Being just a bit away from the elevator, it wouldn't be an unexpected mishap to hit a moving target. And so, he withdrew one foot behind, intentionally bumping into a random individual.
"Oh, I-I'm..." The voice behind muted a bit down as Facade spun to apologize. Yet, before he could open his mouth to offer an apology, the uniformed man spoke in a rush. "Mister Abrar?"
"Mister Robert?" Facade was surprised to collide with the man that he wanted to meet from the very start.
"What are you doing here standing in the middle of nowhere? You have something to report?" He asked, cornering himself to one side when other visitors exited the lift.
Facade had concealed his true identity in return for the fake one, which went by the name Abrar. Although the same personality was used for other purposes, it mainly regarded interactions with people who might threaten the Mansion in any sense.
"Well, yes. It's urgent." Facade answered at last, having no clue as to where Mister Robert was facing. "Eek!" He abruptly wore a woven expression of pain, hands cobbled on his right eye. "What happened!?" Mister Robert, who carried a back-laid personality, was quick to inquire. "Are you alright?"
"Oh..." Facade kept hard on his loathed acting. "I guess something got in my eye," he muttered, carving an environment of distress among them.
"C-could you see?" He probed.
"I'm afraid to say yes."
"It's that serious!?"
Brows creased the forehead in ponderance, Robert was afraid that it might be because of the splinter of glass from yesterday's refurbishment. He quickly grabbed Facade's arm in a jerk, leading him straight to a quiet lane after wading through the valued citizens.
Okay, that was unexpected.
Facade never imagined he would knock over the operator of cabin number sixty, and on top of that, be led to a somewhat hushed corner in complete concern.
"Here, you can remove your mask now." Robert passed a disposable cup of water as he halted near the dispenser, complete anxiousness wandered over his brooding expression. "I must not. I'm allergic to direct exposure."
Facade was a man of tricks, and so, he carried numerous answers for the reasoning minds. The characteristics of the real Abrar entirely matched his, a mask over the face acted as yet another factor to camouflage his identity.
"Oh, okay. Is it...alright now?" Robert withdrew the offering, placing it on top of the inverted can. "Maybe it's a shard of glass that went into your eye. You know, we just recently renovated the window areas." He licked his dried lips before speaking. "I suggest you visit a doct-"
"I appreciate your concerns, Mister Robert," Facade respectfully interrupted Robert's pure motives. "But could you please issue my report? Here, this instant?" His cupped hand remained unaltered, while his voice a drone of stillness.
Robert, a resolute man of a devoted will, was valiant in every way. His core was painted with dedication to his land, making him flawless at his essence. However, Facade's words were a heed of captivation in his sight, alluring his senses from the current demeanor.
"How could I possibly decline you?" Robert willingly accepted the conditions, pulling out a small diary from his flap pocket. "You're my old benefactor alright."
A lot happened between the pair, things that placed Facade in exchange for a savior and positioned Robert on the surface of an addressed victim. Facade had come to Robert's aid when he was in a desperate situation, unaware that it was all but sympathy.
"Continue, Mister Facade." Robert finally opened his blue pen with a flick, ready to dash off a loading information.
"Could you tell me the time before we start with the report?" Facade requested in a pleading manner, laying his back slightly on the matte wall. His sole concentration was on the ticking clock resting on his pulse point, wishing that it wouldn't be nine already.
"Oh, um... Eight fifty-one, that is." Robert peeked at Facade's analogue watch, his logbook tucked in his resolute hands. "Do you have to rush somewhere?"
"Oh yes, I do." Facade, at last, heaved a sigh of relief after hearing the response, almost celebrating the deadly twirl of endgame. "Shall we continue then?" He added.
Robert quickly tensed up in attention, nodding in silence. "Yes, I'm ready." He readied his grip oh his pen, poised to jot down the issue his patron was facing.