News of the attack had just reached Stella Whitehall's ears when James Havas stepped into her office once more. About a minute prior to his arrival, a mighty explosion could be heard even from her office. Fourty-five seconds later, a paper came out of her message device. It read Liberation Front Attack on Granger Street supply depot, twenty-first district, nothing more and nothing less. Stella had just enough time to read the headline and let out a mighty sigh before he barged through her door.
"Don't tell me what I already know," she said, anticipating his words.
"I wanted your thoughts," James replied. "What do we do about it?"
"You know what I think. It's all a distraction. We need every last man in the archives until that transfer." It's what Belleram would do, she finished in her mind.
"It sets a bad precedent if we just let them get away with whatever until the transfer," James appeared frustrated.
"It seems you've already a set answer in your mind," Stella sighed. "Do what you wish, Commander Havas. You don't need my permission for it anyways. Just know that I'm not accepting responsibility for what comes next."
James eyed her with a mix of respect and hatred. "I'll do what needs to be done," he replied, and then left the office.
"I'm sure you will," Stella said to no one but herself. Then she added under her breath, "stupid bastard."
She stood still, hands crossed behind her back. For a while she stared out the window and tapped her foot impatiently. After about a minute, she let out a huff of realization. If she wanted something done right then she had to do it herself. It couldn't be left to idiots like Havas. Thinking that, she turned around and grabbed the pistol from her desk drawer. She stared at it for a moment, spun the cylinder, and then placed it in her waistband.
If no one was willing to defend this place, then she'd do it herself.
Klein heard the alarm sound as he guarded the archive. A few of the men immediately ran out, leaving only the eight men behind him that were busy loading a truck with boxes of books. They were all frozen like deer in the headlights and staring at him with expecting eyes.
"Boss?" One of them asked.
Klein wasn't used to being referred to this way. He temporarily short-circuited coming up with a response. "We stay," he said confidently.
"Even with a red alert!?" One of the men said.
Klein nodded. He was ordered directly by Stella Whitehall to guard this place. 'You're to be there until I tell you not to be', those were her words. She had to have a good reason for it. Anything going on outside could just be a distraction. He had to believe that, and stay diligent in his duty as the only Voidhunter on station.
"We stay!" He repeated defiantly.
Brode, the aging bartender currently tasked with watching the Liberation Front hideout, eyed the group in front of him with great suspicion and listened to them closely.
Ren, Parsh and Drask had spent more or less two days in Realmhome searching for Frost Direshard. William Fletcher had gotten to take the first shot at him once Swapper had discovered the hideout. After that, Frost, Lex, and the unidentified girl had escaped. Swapper, believing he had a better chance finding them alone, set off into the rain. They were left alone, their determination at an all time low.
It didn't help that the world itself was trying to wash them away.
Ren sighed and set the orb in the middle of the table between the three of them. They were at the Liberation Front hideout in Riot Town where Parsh's gemmancy had led them when they requested the location of Frost Direshard. The tavern on the first floor was empty besides the bartender. A mug of ale was in front of them, and yet none felt like drinking. They'd never felt more hopeless about a hunt than they did right now. Their prize was going to go to the Realmguard, after all.
Somehow, they were always one step behind. Even with the power of seeking.
"There must be some sort of interference. The gem is tracking where he used to be, rather than where he is," Parsh complained. He'd been going on and on about this oddity. It was true that his ability never behaved this imprecisely before. Ren wouldn't put it past a Direshard to have some sort of interference ability.
Ren finally had the heart to sip his ale. "I hate this," he declared. It was one of the many complicated emotions he'd been feeling lately. He'd finally been given a chance to do something that mattered, and it was slipping between his fingers.
"We'll find him. It's only a matter of time," Drask reassured.
Ren reached out and clasped the strange orb in his hands. "We will," he said. "But it isn't happening soon enough." He clenched his jaw and thought of Savra's lifeless body. After that, he'd assisted Swapper in finding his new boss' hideout and gotten all of their new friends killed. Some rebel he was. And now Frost Direshard was a rebel affiliate, too. Would their prize be worth burning all of these bridges? His old boss and his new boss would hate him…
Ren had to remind himself that his loyalties had always changed depending on the benefits. This was no different. He'd been with the rebels for a week or two, and now the pendulum might be swinging back. He was following a very simple directive now. Anyone who got in the way of Frost Direshard would die.
I'll be on the right side of history this time, he thought. This orb was important. More important than even himself.
As he thought this, an explosion rocked the building. One of the legs broke off of Parsh's chair and he fell straight backwards.
Ren shot up in panic. "The hell!?" He legs quivered and he struggled to stay upright.
The bartender, Brode, appeared confused. He dove and caught a bottle as it fell off of the shelf, standing up just in time to dive and catch another. Ren ignored this sight, waved his thanks, and ran out into the street to be blanketed by the rain. Utter confusion was overcome by the cold that shocked his senses to life. He looked up into the sky and saw a massive explosion.
His eyes widened, his hope restored in only an instant. "It's him! It has to be!" He cried, already starting in the direction of the explosion.
Parsh grabbed his shoulder. "Lord of the gems. Goddess of the Earth. Lady of beauty. Deity of power. Heed the humble call of the hunter. Seek Frost Direshard." Parsh, double-checking Ren's intuition, held his gem out into the rain. It twisted in a supernatural manner, lifting into the air and pointing away from the explosion.
Ren and Drask traced it with their eyes in amazement.
It pointed towards the Citadel.
Their expressions of hope turned to confusion very quickly. The citadel was on the other side of the city. Even if the tracing was a little bit behind, the odds that Frost had made it from there to the site of the explosion in such a short time was slim to none. This particular act of seeking could not be denied.
The pieces came together in Ren's head.
"The archive transfer…" He whispered. "It's a suicide mission. There's no way they'd really go for it. It has to be now! An early surprise attack. The only way to turn the odds in their favour…" The final pieces of the puzzle slid into place with not a single moment to spare. Finally, Ren was one step ahead of his enemies and even his allies. "The explosion is a distraction!" He declared with pure euphoria.
Parsh's gem hovered, undoubtedly pointing in the direction of their target. Neither he nor Drask had any objections.
Ren swallowed hard and gathered his nerves. I have you, bastard! He turned to his friends and gestured forward. "Let's go!"
They trudged onwards through the rain, making haste towards the towering Citadel through torrents of sloshing and simultaneously falling water. Their bodies were exhausted, but their minds were renewed with the knowledge that they were on the coattails of their target at long last. Ren led the charge with a massive evil smile on his face. He was already day dreaming about how much he'd enjoy killing Frost Direshard.
Somewhere far away, amidst blaring alarms, a short but strong female Commander exited her office with a loaded gun and killing intent. She merged with the troops on their way out, marching in a triumphant rhythm towards a completely different target of which she had become incredibly confident.
Deep down in the basement, an old friend who'd been wronged by Frost was waiting patiently. He had no idea that the person he'd been dreaming of meeting once more was on his way. Despite this, Klein knew in his mind that he was ready. He thought innocent thoughts about how he'd shock Frost with his strength, unknowing that they were to meet in life-or-death combat.
Three different paths rushed to converge on one unexpecting adversary.
Frost Direshard's luck was about to run out.