Parsh stepped into the living area. "Some sort of game console? They're bulky compared to the ones on Mirris."
"Waste of time. All of it," Savra grumbled. He shuffled through newspapers on the table and found nothing of interest. "They have newspapers on Earth," he remarked with interest. "I thought they phase these things out when the planet reaches a higher tech bracket…"
"Eternity. You're so old," Parsh sighed. He gestured ahead to the only unopened door in the place. "Shall we?"
Drask remained behind, seemingly raiding the fridge for something to drink.
"I'll show you how it's done," Savra said, voice dripping with the inflated ego of an aged veteran. He approached the door and pointed his pistol straight at it. Unlike the rest of them, Savra used an old-fashioned revolver. He was an old fashioned man like many men in the Void. "We know you're probably in there. Save yourself a bullet to the head and come out in peace."
Parsh eyed him drolly.
Savra sighed and accepted the provocation. He stepped forward and opened the door quickly. Behind the door was a medium height and darker-skinned man who was leaning into it and waiting. He lunged forward and struck a knife straight into Savra's chest.
"I won't let you have him!" He cried.
"Gah!" Savra fell backwards and hit the ground like a bag of rocks, spread out flat in the middle of the living area.
Parsh didn't hesitate. He raised his weapon and fired. Two bullets struck the boy in his midsection and the third took him right between the eyes. He fell back into the door and then slumped to the floor, dead.
"Drask!" Parsh cried.
Drask had already started rushing over when the commotion began. He slid across the floor to Savra's side. His hands were quick. He pulled out the knife and climbed on top of the older man to perform chest compressions.
[Drask Matreya is activating an attribute: Divine grace.]
Savra's wound healed over, but he remained 'dead' despite the compressions.
"The knife pierced his heart. It's completely stopped beating. I've healed it, but unless we can restart it somehow…" Drask said, giving up on the compressions and climbing to his feet.
"Electricity?" Parsh asked.
Drask shook his head. "We need to match the body's rhythm. I'm not sure I can do it, even with the senses of a Voidhunter."
Ren came running out of the bedroom, looking panicked. He holstered his weapon and walked into the living room casually. "What the hell happened!?" His eyes fell upon the Savra, and then the dead body of the unidentified individual.
Parsh said nothing, biting his lip. "I'll try to find something!" He yelled, deciding on a course of action. He charged past Ren and out into the hallway in search of a defibrillator or some sort of professional equipment.
Drask stood up and clenched his fists. "Savra opened the door and this one attacked him," he explained coolly. "We don't have time. I'll search for something I can use to apply a shock. Take over," he requested, walking into the bedroom to look around. Ren was reminded in this moment that Drask was also a Special Operations support Voidhunter, one who was trained to act with precision and calm in moments like these.
Ren was also no stranger to losing men in the line of duty. He found himself transfixed on Savra, the faces of his past comrades overlaid like a series of projectors showing images of brutality. This was the horrid reality of a Voidhunter, something that he wouldn't wish on any normal person. He clenched his jaw and said, "alright!" climbing on top of Savra to resume compressions.
Drask searched the room for anything that might deliver a high voltage. Ren inquired about the taser in Frost's bag, but Drask said that it wouldn't carry a high enough charge. The wall outlets wouldn't have enough voltage either. Even if they could find something, Drask would have to find a way to match the heart's internal rhythm. It was a long shot at best. Electricity couldn't revive somebody like it could in the movies. Usually this kind of thing requires specialized equipment.
Eventually Drask let out a long sigh. "Three minute rule," he said, watching Ren apply compressions in vain.
"What?" Ren asked.
"Three minute rule. We've just about hit it. Three minutes after collapse, the person can no longer be saved without serious damage." He walked over to one of the beanbags in the living room and plopped into it. "Unless Parsh gets back right about now… Savra's a goner."
Ren looked at Savra's face, and then at the door longingly. "Fuck." He brought his hands away and stood up. "Fuck," he said again.
"Kid came out of nowhere," Drask said, "old man let his guard down."
Ren looked back at Savra's body, and then fell into the beanbag next to Drask. "Old bastard took his leave just before things got difficult," he mused. His head was upturned to the ceiling, his eyes blank. If he'd been with them breaching the room, would it have happened differently?
"You're blaming yourself," Drask said, a compassionate look on his face. "Most common problem amongst field medics. They told me that at the academy." He tapped a finger on his knee in angst. "You should only feel that way if you didn't do your best… And trust me–" he looked over his shoulder at the body, "we did our best," he finished.
"Yeah," Ren said. Fuck, he thought, Savra's actually dead. He had to redirect the anger deep within himself at something, someone. He clenched his fists as he recalled the contents of the paper in that bedroom. The weapons in the bag. The orb. The ordeal on Dragonsfold. "The boy we're looking for is Frost Direshard," he said after thirty seconds of silence. "We can assume that the one we just shot is his friend. This is all his fault, Drask."
Drask looked saddened. Unlike Ren, he wasn't the type to direct his anger at anyone in particular. "Direshard?" He asked instead.
"Direshard," Ren said, voice laced with malice. He was clenching his fists so hard that his arms started shaking. "This is bigger than us now. He's dangerous. The Realmguard has no idea what's coming. We might be the only ones who know anything…" After his hands started to hurt, he shot out of his seat with new determination. "Once he tells us what that orb does… I'll wring his fucking neck. We'll be heroes, Drask."
"And Swapper?" Drask lazily inquired.
"A temporary obstacle. We'll accept his aid until he becomes an inconvenience, and we'll withhold the information we know."
Drask looked visibly worried.
"For Savra," Ren added. "It's exactly what that slimy bastard would've done."
Drask obviously had his doubts about all of this. He puffed his cheeks for a moment, clutched the idol of eternity at his neck and stood up. "Well. Someone's gotta stop you from getting yourself killed, right?"
Ren clapped him on the shoulder. "Atta boy." He looked back at Savra, wondering what to do with the body briefly.
"What will we do?" Drask spoke his mind.
Ren thought for a moment. The authorities wouldn't be able to identify Savra's body. It would do nothing but unstabilize the Void if anyone found out. "Lock the door," he said. "Leave it like we found it. Frost Direshard will have a nice treat to come home to… That is, if he comes home."
In the event that they failed at their task, Ren wanted to make sure he left a nasty parting gift. He lifted the bodies of Savra and the unidentified Indian looking boy, posing them both at the table with coffee cups. Then, he went into the room and used a matchstick to set all of the money aflame, also folding the grade report and stuffing it into his back pocket.
"You ready to go?" Drask asked, looking disgusted with Ren's theatrics.
"Ready," Ren replied.
Ren, Parsh and Drask walked along a bridge above a vast bay near the door where all of this had begun. Parsh, who had spent twenty minutes searching for a defibrillator in vain, had his head hung low. Even catching him up on the information at hand had not helped to cheer him up at all.
"This is it," Ren said. "Right in the middle of the bridge."
It was midday, and many cars were passing them by. Drask was watching them with great fascination.
"We know where this Frost has gotten off to?" Parsh asked, leaning against the railing.
"No," Ren replied. "But we know where he'll be."
"Don't be ridiculous," Parsh scoffed. "You want to walk into Realmguard headquarters? You think they'll just welcome us with open arms?"
"We have a bargain chip, Parsh." Ren placed a foot onto the railing and stepped up onto it, perfectly maintaining his balance. "Information about this boy and the orb is life or death to them, even if they don't know it." The whistling wind nearly blotted out his voice. He turned around and looked down at Parsh and Drask. "My friends… We have a loaded gun at the Realmguard's throat!"
Ren had heard about the archive transfer. It was intended to bait out the rebel leadership and anyone else dumb enough to try their luck against Belleram. Swapper already knew of the planned raid, but he had no idea just how dangerous it would be for everyone involved! With someone related to Drake Direshard and tech that carried Void-absorbing abilities… The real trap was for the Realmguard!
Cars slowed down to watch the scene of what appeared to be a man on the verge of suicide, and his friends desperately attempting to calm him down.
"I'll take the leap!" Ren declared, leaning backwards with his arms outstretched and falling from the railing into the bay below.