Everyone freshened up and gathered downstairs at the cafeteria. The twins brought lunch. People ate in groups. The Zeta Squad occupied one table and chatted all the way through the meal. Accompanying them were Ben and Riley who were content with listening more than speaking. They found it hard to lose their grins. After all, how often were they going to share a meal with such illustrious Martial Artists?
Faris and Hugo were sitting at the table behind them, conversing in hushed voices and whispers. Occupying the far edge of their table, four chairs away, was the White Bolt. He ate in silence.
Faris looked over. "You look unwell, brother," he said, looking at Vincent. "And you haven't said anything all this time either."
Vincent nodded and kept staring at his plate. He had not been completely healed by the Eye operatives earlier and was still wounded from his interrogation.
The Mystic went and sat on the chair next to him. He poured some water into the bounty hunter's glass and, with closed eyes, recited a spell silently with a hand atop the glass.
"Drink it," he said, looking up at the bounty hunter. "It'll help."
Vincent looked over and waited.
Faris leaned ahead. "Come on, drink it, friend," he stressed. "Your jaw is hurting. And you've barely eaten anything. This will help."
Everyone was looking at the two. Gina leaned back and whispered, "Master Baylis, is he healing him?"
Hugo nodded.
Eventually, Vincent drank the water. In less than a minute, his wounds began to heal. And in no more than five minutes, many of them had healed completely, including the ones on his neck and jaw.
"Appreciated," he said with a nod.
The Mystic smiled and said, "Anytime, bounty hunter."
Ella leaned closer to her squadmates and whispered, "He knows Vincent?"
Marcus looked at her. "Yeah, this guy is weird, man," he said quietly.
As Faris then stood up, he picked up Vincent's plate as well and brought it with him to his seat. Placing the plate next to his own, he looked over and said, "Come on over. Sit here with us. It's disrespectful to eat alone. A meal should be shared."
He took a piece of chicken from the box in front of him and placed it in the bounty hunter's plate. Then, he took a spoonfull of yoghurt from his plate and ate it.
"There," he said. "Now it's a meal worth having."
Vincent slowly got up and walked over. He sat beside Faris. "I didn't know those looking still believed in tradition," he remarked with a smile.
Faris laughed. "Oey, you were right about this one," he said looking at Hugo. "He's something else."
With the meal done, everyone got up to head over to the barracks to get some rest. Vincent, standing next to Faris and Hugo, said, "Doesn't it bother you?"
They looked over. "What does?" the Zaatsu asked.
"Feels a little too convenient that they're reshuffling operatives today…"
The friends shared a look before Faris looked at Vincent and said, "I have not let my guard down since you people arrived here." Leaning closer, he added, "I have an eye on the entire area. Things have not made much sense… or in other words, things have made the wrong sense often. Discrepancies… what can I say? It's been that way for years now."
"The world belongs to the enemy." The White Bolt sighed. "Time is their friend, Mystic. Not yours. Over time, you and everyone else like you will be forgotten while they will continue to be. And they will continue to grow. The longer this drags out, the more people will forget, and there will come a time when even your own people will ask you, 'did that even happen?' 'What proof do you have?'" He sighed. "Victors write history, clowns… just a tale with a powerful narrative, not the truth."
Hugo crossed his arms and asked, "And which side are you on?"
Ben walked over and asked, "You guys wanna wash hands or something? The bathrooms are vacant now."
Vincent looked at Hugo. "You waited until they all left," he said then smiled. "Right now, both of us could afford to wait. Now that the place is vacant, we can easily go in and wash our hands. See where I'm going with this?"
"Sitting it out," Faris commented as he nodded. "I get where you're going."
"No, you don't." The White Bolt looked at him. "I'm just going to the bathroom."
As he left, Hugo looked away. His eyes met Camille's. She was waiting at the foot of the stairs.
A flick of her eyes toward the bounty hunter – a quiet question.
He tilted his head: not sure.
She arched a brow.
He gave the ghost of a smile, the kind only she would catch. And that was enough. She nodded, subtle as breath.
He started to turn, but her gaze held him. Wider now.
She looked down, then back at the Mystic beside him.
He closed his eyes, a small shake of the head.
This time, she nodded and went upstairs.
Soon, everyone was upstairs inside the dormitory. A skilful whistler, Marcus soothed the gang for a while until most of them were asleep. But it was not just a lullaby. It was a breathing exercise. It calmed his nerves and regulated the air in his body, helping him fall asleep. And by 2:30 p.m., with safety wards securing their surroundings, seniors, juniors, and freelancers had all dozed off.