Bam!
The trapdoor burst open in urgency, knocking over the chair to one side. "Oh my, what's all this about?" one of the three asked as he grabbed the rim of the reception desk for support. "No idea," another said, emerging from the same door built inside the reception ground.
Facade, who was squeezed inside the bottom section of the display desk, grimaced.
Wh—What exactly am I doing here!?
He roared, failing to make out the exact reason behind his moronic choice. Facade never meant to hide, but his hands acted on their own, opening the cabinet the instant trapdoor shuddered.
"Jane, something doesn't seem right," a voice remarked as he exited the inner side of the counter, stooping the narrow corridor just to stroke the smashed ceramics. "Don't know about that. But hey," Jane asked, his black eyes fixed on Mike. "Don'tcha think Facade is late?"
I'm... somehow right here.
Though vanished from the scene, Facade still listened to their murmurs. "B-But what about our escort? The Forces will find this route in no time!"
"I know, you dimwit! Just get out of there already!" Mike snapped as he sprung up, darting Watson from a distance.
"I'm trying!" Watson pressed, obesity restricting him between the trapdoor's throat.
"And what the hell do we do if Facade isn't here yet?" Mike completely ignored Watson, redirecting his focus on Jane's dark features.
"Probably wait~" He answered, puffing as he twirled sideways. However, his minute reaction set Mike on fire.
"What are you smiling about, huh!?"
"Nothing in particular."
"You!--"
"G-Guys!!" Watson immediately hurried to their side, halting right between the two. "This isn't the time to fight!"
"Just say him to stay-"
"Oh, man. I probably can't hear."
"See!??"
"Jane, pl..."
Commotion gradually brewed the space as Facade sat completely blank, breath still choppy from recent measures.
Man...are they nuts?
Though, he was forced to listen to their nonsense, he kept himself busy by reviewing the latest deliberations.
What if the Forces invade the house of the Patriarch instead of the mining areas?
The same prospect flashed when Facade was left with seconds, right at the tipping point. But thought surrendered before even loading, cornering Facade to many loopholes.
Just how did Facade even assume the Patriarch's house to be invaded unannounced? The option could've crossed his mind if he was more mindful back then.
The head of the Mundand Family was involved in the black marketing, which, as a fact, labeled him suspicious in Mansion's record. But to erase the chance of Patriarch being just a prestigious figure in the Forces' log, wasn't all assured.
Facade knew that Mansion was on par with Forces. The more they evolved, the more the Forces pass orders. Even though the opposing foundation, an institute built to regulate principles was supposed to brand Mansion as corrupt, they never leaked a word to public.
The reason behind the diplomacy was already carved in stone, the very factor that made the Forces prevent declaring a war against the Mansion.
King Forter Laurae.
He, the ruler of the vast kingdom backed the Mansion for years, stating that if it were to be annihilated, the state would lose its defensive asset. But supporting the tainted system never meant the King disregarded Forces by any means, instead, he granted them the authority to eliminate any threat, even if it came from the Mansion's side.
In short, direct conflict with the Mansion only meant opposing the King himself.
While true motives hid behind the curtains, Facade was sure about Hood having a margin of scheme with the King.
The Forces sure took a turnabout, though.
He elaborated on his final analysis, certain that the Forces had intel about the Patriarch which, somehow, intersected with the mining conflict.
Well, the thing is... that's so out of question. How the hell did the Forces know it was Mundand Family who staged an illegal mining!? I never told them that!
That's ridiculous!
The previous line of thinking was just a mock-up for his crossed preference, but again, despite being so selective about each fact, he couldn't join the dots.
"Tsk... don't talk if you can't be reasonable." Mike yielded at last, taking Watson's advise in reluctant regard. "But really," he continued, "the chaos here is too odd. Not forgetting the fact that Facade, a punctual jerk, isn't here."
Wha- Jerk!?
Piety completely dissolved the instant Facade heard his label, both feet pressing upon the wooden slate. "I'll make you pay." The threat was obviously restrained to his mental space, but he swore upon disciplining Mike once he get out of the bakery.
"Well..." Jane, who previously responded the same concern with bliss, dropped his cool. "That is concerning." He sighed, arms finally bending at his waist.
"I—I s that what we should be thinking now?" Watson minutely took the attention of bantering duo, their heads simultaneously whipping his way.
"L-Like, I mean, we should be more worried about will happen if the Forces finds this route?" He pointed at the toppled chair, directing his focus on the flushed trapdoor beneath its legs. "Even worse, what if they captures us? What would happen next?"
"We'll be doomed." Mike concluded without hesitation, casually biting his upper lips.
"Yes, better fly off the small bakery. I don't want to die yet." Jane's remark were off the track, so neither Mike nor Watson considered them in any sense.
"Tsk... we can't risk going outside without Facade. Dan won't overlook solo actions too. So the last thing we could do, is wait. And that's a damn thing to do right now!" Several pages and fragments of porcelain hit the display desk when Mike kicked the mess, resenting his selection in operation EAR.
Click, Clank!
The splinters spread with light tinkle, bouncing back onto the flat flooring. Facade instantly flipped his head to the affected part, gulping at the embarrassment he would face if he were to be revealed.
Jane countinuosly eyed his short tempered companion, intentionaly letting him go berserk on wreckage.
Heh. He's jealous of Watson alright.
He mocked, clearly accustomed to Mike's ballistic side.
Their pair had been given a crown of "Gutter Rats", those who reach pinched corners without fail. Just because every other junior subordinates were grouped into three, Gutter Rats were pressed to bear a total stranger on their side. Jane was fine either way, but Mike's ego was brutally crushed when he was told that the temporary assistance was from a member of Crimson society.
Those witty brained Crimsons...Hood could have assigned a fellow from Lilac. O-Or maybe Teal, that would be alright too. But Watson out of all? That's crap.
Mike grumbled in his mindscape, totally aware that Dan purposely dumped him into a mess. Though, he disliked the whole society of Crimsons, Watson had made a special lace in Mike's reputation, knotting it over and over again with his presence. The difference was, Watson never realized his spot-on corrections would inflict rage upon a random fellow.
He can't bear a third person besides us. How sweet~
In contrary to Mike's provoked thinking, Jan's private remarks were far from actual situation. He comprehended his own section of ideas, falling upon the impression that Mike wanted to retain the title alone with Jane. His deluded explanation left him with a compressed smile, taking pleasure in his forged perspective.
Tap...Top...
Steps resounded the cramped bakery when Watson approached the display desk. The Facade fidgeted a bit in reflex, enough to flatten his folded back against the empty space. He could have clicked his tongue if he wasn't the one hiding, but in exchange, made a regretful look, fingers knotting his grey hair. I could've done the same thing by not being punctual. That's so foolish of me. He finally began to regret his own actions.
"I don't know why, but do you guys feel like... like there's been a commotion here or something?" Watson interrupted Facade's deadpan emotions, his focus shifting once more to the conversation. "Maybe a staged setting?" He added, voice crystal clear to the arched Facade.
Just shut your precise conclusions, Mister Watson!
Facade never took in account the fellow to be an underling of Crimson society. If so, he would have avoided adding the lackey as a part of his prey.
"Staged?" Mike stood an inch away from Watson before asking.
"T-The condition of the room is before your eyes; it seems like someone had a face-to-face fight inside the bakery." Watson eyed the two fellows standing on the opposite side, individually swiping his gaze to each face.
"Then, could it be possible that Facade had been here and..." Jane stood beside Mike, palms clutching the rounded bridge of the counter as he spoke. "And something happened?" He shrugged his shoulders to mark a full stop.
"Could be." Watson wrapped up the entire situation in two words. Even though he could've partially decerped the situation, but insufficiency to Facade's hidden qualities held him from passing certain deductions.
"Anyways," Mike retracted back to his normal phase, considering back the current scenario. "Jane. Block the trapdo—" But before he could add more, Mike suddenly dropped silent.
"What?" Jane asked as he peered features in lunar light. Eyes glared the collapsed chair, wry smile adding more to his strange behavior. "W-What? What's the matter?" But Mike was unresponsive no matter how pierce Jane's stare got.
Watson raised an eyebrow the moment Jane met his eyes, signaling to follow up with him. "Wait a sec..." Mike spoke at last, his minimal volume rubbing the tension.
"Just spit it out already!" Jane patience broke when Mike threw another layer of stress among them, including the eavesdropping Facade. "Shut up! I'm tryna make sense here." Mike snarled, replaying his train of thoughts from the start. Jane was taken aback by his reply, almost puzzled to see Mike speculating to such magnitude. Don't tell me, he accidentally found a lead? He tossed out his guess, still unsure if it could actually happen.
"Trying to make sense?" Watson's mouth hung open in amazement when he heard the phrase. Has Mike already obtained a valid clue!? He examined Mike's expressions, shocked to witness someone exceeding in interpretations besides him.
He's a duffer. Can't get it whole. Facade, sullied by being trapped in one place, remarked with certainty.
"Facade couldn't be—"
Slam!
The main door snapped open before Mike could form a sentence, its transparency made the frozen clock trip on the wooden ledge attached on the dusty wall.
Thud.
Clock rolled over the ledge, plummeting fine crockeries one by one.
Thid-Thad-Thush
Shards drizzled, on after another, covering air with glinting bits. The chaos was a quick succession, each crash faster then the last. Watson ducked within seconds, hands shielding his round face. Jane rolled over the counter into its interior, misinterpreting the shatters as pistol fire. Mike, odd between them all, froze beneath the shards of plain glass, stunned as he opened the cupboard of the display desk.