At Bakery 973:
"Wow, I never got a chance to check this little one out this close." Facade realized how terrible he was at handling details.
Facade barely got into details amidst his missions, so all that he knew about bakery 973 was—a small room with a glass door.
When Facade tried to push the door open, he felt the rusty hinges resisting the movement—and the sliding glass finally losing its grip on its frames.
The bell suddenly chimed, repeating the process when it closed shut.
Facade—not knowing the unnecessary things that lie within the bakery—started sensing.
He could feel a bakery that was small but, for the first time, he had felt it ancient—covered with different antique hangings on the wall to his left while the forgotten crockeries lay on the reception desk to his right.
Abandoned for years yet, the smell of breads and bakes was surrounding the space.
After taking notes of every nook and corner, Facade leaned back to the desk. The untouched cup vibrated by the intensity of his weight—dusting the layers of dirt for the first time in a long while.
Facade ignored it and crossed his arms, imagining the view of the deserted bakery while waiting.
He created a fresh interior of the bakery in his mind, the scent of burnt cinnamon stronger than the lingering ones.
He imagined two people of mature age, turning numerous emotions into a single one—into happiness.
The breads were fresh, with the sweet aroma covering—
Creek…
A sound echoed through the room and Facade—exiting his flexible imagination—darted at the trapdoor.
"Oh, so Mikael sends the ranking spy," Jane blurted, pushing himself out of the hole. His black eyes shone in the dark.
The trapdoor was inside the corner of the reception ground—where there was a chair placed before.
"Facade. Pass me that." Mike pointed at the box resting on the desk—an inch from Facade's reach.
"I don't take orders. At least, not from you. I'm going to the car. Hurry up." Facade flipped back to the exit, leaving behind Jane to help Mike with his chores.
"Man… it's right beside you, you know." Mike argued against Facade's selfishness while silently closing the trapdoor.
Facade had just taken three steps towards the glass door when he suddenly dangled into a chair—the very one he dragged beforehand for the gutter rats to come out.
"Crap!"
Words slipped out of aggression as it was really hard for Facade to sense the distance in small spaces.
As for the bakery, he could hardly make out the things placed inside it. He got the idea that the hangings were antique—but it was hard for him to tell how detailed each one was carved out or which shape each hanging held.
Facade could only feel the aura of the objects if he wanted to, like seeing different textures of waves coming out from each thing around him.
He sensed rough, compressed blue waves with short lengths, allowing him to conclude that the thing he was about to trip over—was a chair.
Facade's sense was to an extent that he could easily drive on highways without even having a glimpse of anything.
"You… okay?" Jane was about to hand over the box to Mike when he stopped—concerned about his senior.
He—along with Mike and Watson—knew that Facade could not see, but they didn't know that his weakness was the small room filled with countless objects.
If so, the waves that Facade tries to sense mixes up and gave out a false output.
The moment he entered the bakery, he knew that trying to sense all things placed inside the ancient bakery could cause him a headache, so he refrained from digging too deep and redirected himself to imagine the missing things instead.
"Can see. I'm out. Pack the mess and make sure to be perfect this time." Facade picked up the chair and slightly pushed it to the recently hired Watson—who had just hardly made his way out of the trapdoor due to his opacity.
"…"
"Oh… yeah, last time was a misunderstanding though." Mike rubbed his head, giggling at his mistakes.
Facade was laconic, meaning, he talked right to the point—whether it made sense to another person or not.
It was the only reason how his fine plan slops most of the time.
Misunderstanding, my foot! I'll definitely ruin you if you messed up my plan.
Facade was finally out and settled himself in the driving seat. Now, all he wanted to do was to wait for the Forces to come.
Hell, I don't have the precision of the situation's output.
I should have planted more evidence for them to clean up. That would take their time.
He had given it a thought before coming to the bakery but ultimately couldn't remember it when he arrived.
Two minutes passed by, but the Forces hadn't arrived yet.
They should be here by now.
Sweat started to appear on his forehead. If Jane, Mike, and Watson came and settled in his car before the Forces arrived, Facade's plan would become utterly useless.
Just be late, you three! Take more time to come. He prayed with all his heart, hoping that what he feared the most wouldn't turn into a reality.
Two more minutes passed by, and there was no sign of the gutter rats. That was a clear possibility that they had already been captured by the Forces.
Okay, if my guess is right, they're trapped. What I should do now is save them and get myself caught!
Thinking, he slid from his rusty car and reached the area where shop 973 was visible. He halted in a blind corner and covered his head with his hood.
Facade could sense blank waves—concluding that the thing he had perceived was a light. He didn't try to focus on things afar from the bakery, instead, he allowed his sense to feel the traces of waves around the light.
Probably, the red and blue lights of a siren. This proved that his plan was flowing in the right direction.
A sudden surprise hit his senses when he felt many cars scattered around the bakery.
The Forces hadn't only captured the gutter rats but had also called backup already.
But… the illegal mining wasn't a big issue for which the number of Forces were here.
His thought was valid. The Forces never spend time or money on lower departments. It was their hierarchy—or to be precise, their discrimination towards lower status.
If I get myself caught without saving them, the community would have a reason to doubt me.
Facade pondered, standing still on the ground.
It was not easy to catch him.
No one ever did so. He was caught on purpose and released on purpose. It was a child's play for him to dive into danger—without worrying about his life.
Because wherever he went, his veil was his shield. His weapon and his facade.
The real danger that often made his hair stand—was the one whom he worked under.
Mister Hood.
He was the first and the last man who could control Facade. Be it his threat to hurt his cousin—Jebreel—or checkmating him in his strategies.
But usually, the clash between their flexible thinking and wide decisive planning resulted in a draw.
For Hood, Facade was his pioneer—but most importantly—his nemesis. Facade, on the other hand, didn't think deeply about their relation.
Facade just wanted to win the game of tag with Hood. In his opinion—he'd rather win the place or die dispraisingly. There was no room for a draw in his vocabulary.
And this time—by executing his eighteenth strategy to cross over Hood—he would become the standing one. The victor.
I first have to save the three of them and then, I'll get myself in. They would probably hold me in their inquiry prisons, and I know two ways to escape from there. Easy for me to get away.
Facade felt proud of his sneaking skills. And what he was blessed with, was a good brain. By using them both, he could even handle a castle infiltration on his own.
He was about to leave his position but still turned back and gave the handcuffed gutter rats a farewell wave.
When he did that, he immediately noticed something odd.
The Forces had already torn off the gutter rats' masks and their identities were revealed to a majority of their people.
Even if Facade saved them, there'd be no way Hood was going to let them live.
Oh, well, I think I should make a little bit of change to my plan.
He unintentionally chuckled at the view.
They would probably inquire them first, so I don't want to waste my time lurking around to save these rats. I'll just hide in the inquiry room before they arrive there.
10min later:
"Thanks for saving us, and for our masks too. I thought I would end up behind bars." Jane was comfortably seated beside Facade, hands stretched on the dashboard.
Facade didn't respond.
"Where are we going?" Mike finally opened his mouth on behalf of Watson—his hands clutched Facade's seat from behind.
"To the mansion."
…
A minute of silence was all that Facade heard before the commotion in the car started.
"Are you out of your mind!?" Watson's mouth hung open before shouting in surprise.
"Y-You said you've seen one of the officers sending the pics of our faces. If it comes into Hood's hands, he would kill us all." Watson's voice reduced to a quarter—barely out of his throat. He continuously squirmed in his seat—drifting his gaze from Mike to Facade.
Watson was nervous, as he had never thought about the circumstances he would be facing if the plan failed. He was just tagging along to fill the spot as per the policies of the mansion—but most importantly—for the money he would get if they completed the given task.
"Your faces were revealed. It's none of my business if you die here or in the mansion." Facade—being composed—cleared the matter. "It's death anyways. Why should I bother saving dead people?"
"Heh!?? We're already dead to you?!!" Jane snapped at him.
"Wow. Too good to be true, Facade." Mike sighed in disbelief.
He was the mature one among the three. He never tried to argue with reality and always made sense and pace in his thinking.
However, he wasn't always like that. Mike trips hard when it's a first-time shock. After that, he replenishes his cool act.
"Listen, w—we… we belong to the same society, okay? You can't throw us like that!" Jane cried, hands grasping and vibrating Facade's driving arms.
"Aye, you duffer!?" The steering wheel misbalanced a bit, and the car started skidding. Facade quickly released his hands from Jane's sluggish grip and turned the wheel to restore the alignment. After the car stopped lurching—Facade gave a sharp look at Jan for a couple of seconds.
"So—Sorry?" Jane apologized meekly like a wet kitten.
"You buffoon! You lot could have really died, you know that!?" Facade ignored his innocence and focused on the road.
"You brat, Jane! You want us dead?" Watson sent a kick to the back of Jane's seat.
"Hey! It's impulse! You know, impulse!"
"What a leader, really." Mike complimented Jane's agitation despite being a leader.
Jane was approved as the leading member of the small group, but according to Mike, he should be the one in charge of that position.
He even prepared a reasoning script to argue with Hood about the flaws Jane had as a leader after they finished their business.
Facade—on the other hand—was speaking logic back then. Even a second of distraction on his side, and the waves he was carefully sensing would merge into tangled strings.
The result would be sudden death—except for the veiled Facade.
"Hey, are you even listening to us? This is serious, you know. Look, just—" Jane again grabbed Facade's hand with a jerk and placed it on his heart.
Facade was so focused on finding the lost route that he let his left hand go swiftly with Jane's. Facade—being furious—creased his brows at Jane's sudden behavior.
"Look, my heart is about to pop out any second, you know!!"
Facade jerked back—regretting deploying gutter rats as his bait.
"Shut up! I'll grab it and throw it out before it could even have a chance to pop out. Be it your heart or any spare part of yours!" Facade growled—tightening his hands on the wheel this time.
"It would be better if you throw us somewhere here." Mike—ignoring Jane's foolish methods—proposed another method for their survival.
"Being captured by Forces is far better than being mentally abused… and then die." Fear was obvious in Watson's voice; he was mentally preparing for his death.
"As you wish, you idiots." Facade finally got to the right destination. His feet reached the brakes and the car halted with a jerk.
"Get off. Now." Facade tilted his head to sense the two people seated behind.
…
"H-He-Hey? You really… you're really going to throw us?" Jane was surprised by Facade's response—confused, he held the door handle.
Facade retreated his head and inhaled, making himself ready to bear more people on his side.
"Get off and follow me if you don't want to be in pieces." His door flung open and Facade stepped out of the car—marching towards the black house in the corner of the silent alley.
"Huh? Wait... What??" Jane was the first to hop down, then did Mike and Watson took any action.
"Oye!" Mike immediately grabbed the rushing Jane by his sleeve. Jane slowed down and tilted his head to his shoulder.
"What?"
"Don't you dare spoil the act with your stupid one." Mike whispered. "You know we really are dead. Even if he leaves us here or not, it doesn't matter."
They both looked at the back of Facade's cloak—slowly merging into the dark.
"I get a feeling…" Mike stopped in between.
"That he would be the one Hood sends to eliminate us even if he leaves us here?" Wrinkles appeared on Jane's head when he finally grasped the situation they were stuck in.
"Good!" Mike patted his hand on his shoulder. "That's why I'm telling you to control your damned self from the start!!" Mike's cool took off and rage built inside him.
"When have you—"
"Urghhhh… Should I tell you in front of that man? That??" Mike pointed out the position where Facade had been—but there was nothing other than the cold street.
"That damn devil!! He's playing with us!" He tightened his palm into a punch—ready to blow up anyone near him.
Even Jane.
But Jane sensed the sensation this time and took some steps away from him.
Mike and Jane had worked together for a long time. They both knew each other's true nature—the one that others can't see.
Mike could be a cool guy in front of others but, hell, he only shows me his teeth. I would've dealt with him a long time ago if he hadn't known about my drug dealing.
After Jane was assigned with Mike, he was ultimately ripped off his illegal business. Because Mike was a decisive man—he didn't want himself to be ruined with Jane's problems, so it was an essential step.
"You kitten! Watson!" Jane shouted out to relieve his newly built anxiety, but there was nobody when he turned his face to the car.
Mike, seeing Jane's widened eyes, looked at the same place.
What they saw was a door flung open—slightly waving from the cold air.
"Damn him." They both said in unison. Without caring for the scared man, they left the car and followed the traces to the black house.
"What is this about?" Jane, after entering the jet-black house, clapped his hands over his mouth. "Oh. My. God. A hideout? Hideout of Facade? Seriously?"
He spun with eagerness to see everything there was to it.
The interior was just like the exterior—the whole building painted in black.
The furniture there was dark brown—even with the dull lights on—the dankness remained unchanged.
"I can't see nothing. Not even Facade. Where is he?" Jane paused his continuous turns when he realized that the lights were already on and yet he can't see nothing. Mike, on the other hand, observed the situation keenly.
The atmosphere inside was already haunted—lights flickering every minute while the curtain ahead felt like it was hiding someone behind it.
"Hello? Anybody here?" Mike covered half the distance of the small room—consisting only of a bed placed horizontally with the wall to the left and a small table set in the middle to the right.
"Who cares. Probably scheming another devilish plan." Mike shrugged his shoulders.
Jane sighed and passed by Mike— shuffling the papers on the dusty table.
"What's this?" Mike asked from behind. "I can't make out if it's blank...or if it's filled." When Jane tried to grab a random page, a pen bounced and hit the marble ground.
Jane stepped back a little in a jerk—slightly bouncing into Mike—as though a ghostly entry was what he expected.
"What the hell. You're scaring me!" Mike hissed, not bothering to pick up the pen.
"Ne-Nevermind." There was a fain hint of fear in Jane's voice.
"Hey, can you see it?" He successfully picked up a laid paper and turned to show it to Mike.
Mike focused on the paper with all he had, but the lights were dim enough to make anything out of it—and the writing was a mess.
"It's like this paper got into the hands of a doctor or something. What trash writing." He put the paper back on the table.
"Oh, so its filled." Jane replied.
When Mike was about to turn, he immediately saw a silhouette standing at the door.
His heart began beating irrationally, fingers started tapping Jane's arm.
"J-J-Jane."
"What now?" he asked.
"L-Look. There…" Mike stuttered while pointing at the standing shadow.
Jane turned his face to look in the pointed direction. He froze the moment his eyes caught the scene.
"Who—Who are you?" Jane—collecting his courage— pushed Mike a little behind, as he knew what Mike feared the most.
The ghosts.
"Welcome," a hoarse voice echoed in the dark room. "To my domain."
And the door closed shut.