Chapter 20: Interrogation
"Muelsyses!!"
A crushing sense of dread washed over Joshua as he dropped to his knees, frantically reaching out to the lifeless puddle of water on the shattered terrace floor. He splashed the water, desperately whispering her name, trying to coax a response back from the clone. Yet, no matter what he did, it remained just that: a puddle of ordinary water.
A firm, heavy grip suddenly clamped down on his shoulder.
"Calm down, Joshua."
He looked up. Saria was staring down at him, her golden eyes piercing through the panic clouding his mind.
"We cannot help her if we stay up here and panic. We have to move," she stated. Her voice was an unshakable anchor of authority, but the sight of her other hand—clenched into a white-knuckled, trembling fist—told him that she was just as terrified for their friend as he was. Seeing her force down her own fear for his sake immediately alleviated his inner turmoil.
"You're right. I lost my cool. Thank you," Joshua breathed, rising to his feet and brushing the glass off his knees. He grabbed the heavy metallic briefcase Anthony had given him just moments prior. "Let's go get our Mumu. She needs us now more than ever."
Abandoning the ruined remains of their perfect date, the couple sprinted down the emergency stairwell and plunged into the commercial district.
The aftermath of the explosion was absolute devastation.
The once-vibrant avenues were unrecognizable, transformed into a hellish warzone. Overturned vehicles burned in the streets, casting erratic, flickering shadows against the crumbled facades of the surrounding storefronts. The wailing of distant sirens was nearly drowned out by the panicked screams of fleeing civilians.
Worse than the fire, however, was the smog. The blast had kicked up a massive, yellowish-black cloud of weaponized Originium dust. It hung in the air like a suffocating blanket—thick enough to severely impair vision, and highly lethal to anyone sensitive to the mineral.
As they navigated the ruined streets, Saria suddenly coughed, bringing a hand up to cover her nose and mouth as the acrid dust began burning her lungs.
Seeing her struggle, Joshua didn't hesitate. He forcefully yanked off his heavy leather gloves and rolled up his insulating sleeves.
Instantly, his innate Originium Nullification Field flared outward, expanding to a diameter of three-and-a-half meters around him. The moment the toxic Originium smog breached the invisible barrier, it simply ceased to be, neutralizing into harmless, breathable oxygen. A perfectly clear bubble of air formed around them.
"Phew... thanks," Saria exhaled, taking a deep breath of the purified air.
With the immediate environmental hazard dealt with, they continued their cautious advance, ducking from cover to cover until they reached the edge of a large, devastated plaza.
Peeking over a large mound of concrete rubble, their blood ran cold.
Swarming the plaza was a highly organized paramilitary group. These weren't common street thugs; they were clad in heavy, black tactical gear and armed to the teeth. Several mercenaries patrolled the perimeter with high-caliber assault rifles, while elite Arts Casters stood on elevated debris, their glowing staves maintaining an oppressive, localized gravity field to keep their captives compliant.
In the center of the plaza, the terrorists were violently herding dozens of terrified civilians into a centralized gathering point.
"They're taking hostages to secure the area. Muelsyses has to be in that crowd somewhere," Joshua whispered, his eyes scanning the chaotic mass of people. "But to reach her, we'll have to push straight through their patrol lines."
Saria frowned, her tactical mind calculating the grim odds. She looked down at her cream-colored sundress, and then at Joshua's stylish leather jacket.
"They hold a massive advantage in both numbers and firepower," Saria analyzed grimly. "Even with our skills, charging in there wearing evening clothes and completely unarmed is tactical suicide. We might as well just volunteer to be hostages ourselves."
A profound sense of frustrated urgency tightened her voice. "All we can do is cautiously observe and wait for an opening to sneak in. But by then... who knows what might happen to Mumu."
"Well..." Joshua muttered, a determined smirk suddenly fighting its way through his anxiety. He hoisted the heavy metallic briefcase onto the concrete rubble between them. "Technically, we aren't completely unarmed."
Saria blinked in perplexity. "Joshua, a briefcase isn't going to stop an assault rifle."
"This isn't a normal briefcase, Buttercup."
Joshua reached down and pressed his thumbs against the dual biometric locks on the handle.
Click. Whirrrrr—Clack!
The heavy casing hissed as pressurized air released. In the blink of an eye, the metallic briefcase violently unfolded outwards. Interlocking plates of high-tensile alloy slid seamlessly over one another, locking into place to form a sleek, heavy-duty, half-cylinder tactical shield.
"This is a prototype portable bulwark," Joshua explained, his eyes gleaming with a touch of his usual inventor's pride. "A joint collaboration between Rhine Lab's engineering and Simon Co.'s heavy metallurgy. The field test was supposed to be scheduled for next week, after our date. But given the circumstances... it looks like the timeline has been moved up."
He lifted the heavy shield and offered it to Saria.
Saria slid her right arm into the ergonomic straps, locking the bulwark against her forearm. She gave it a quick, practiced swing. The weight distribution was flawless. The coverage was exceptional. It was a masterpiece of defensive engineering.
Even in a sundress, with the cold steel of the shield strapped to her arm, the legendary Director of Defense was back in her element. A massive surge of confidence radiated from her, her golden eyes locking onto the terrorists with predatory focus.
She turned to her boyfriend, a dangerous, beautiful smile on her lips.
"So," Saria asked, fully aware that her brilliant inventor had already calculated their next move. "What's the plan?"
"Alright, gather the hostages here in the center."
The leader of the terrorists, a battle-scarred Vulpo veteran wearing a heavy gas mask, looked down at the trembling crowd surrounded by his heavily armed subordinates.
The hostages were in terrible condition. Some had managed to escape the blast with only minor scratches and bruises, but others were severely injured, sporting deep lacerations and fractured bones. Muelsyses, unfortunately, belonged to the latter group.
Despite being the first to notice the sudden flare of the Originium explosive and reacting fast enough to manifest a water shield, she had been too close to the epicenter. The sheer concussive force of the blast had shredded her defensive Arts, throwing her violently into a chunk of concrete debris and fracturing her leg.
By the time she regained her bearings, the mercenaries had already caught her, dragging her by the arms into the hostage pool. But in that brief window of chaos, she had managed to manipulate the ambient moisture in her purse, sending a frantic, glitching water-clone SOS to Saria. Now, shivering in the dust, all she could do was hope they understood.
Once every surviving civilian was gathered, the Vulpo leader paced in front of them, his sharp, ruthless eyes scanning the crowd through the glass lenses of his mask.
"I'm going to say this exactly once, so listen closely." The leader signaled his grunts with a subtle nod.
A few heavy-set mercenaries waded into the crowd, violently dragging hostages out to form a line in front of the leader. The first pair of victims hauled forward was a middle-aged Feline businessman and a young, terrified Cautus college student.
"Do you know what this is?" the leader demanded. He held up a grainy photograph. It depicted a massive, egg-shaped, metallic 'meteorite' sitting at the bottom of a smoldering crater in the desert.
"Wh... what am I looking at? I don't know anything about—"
Thwip!
The Feline's frantic denial was instantly silenced by the lethal snap of a heavy crossbow. A bolt buried itself deeply into his chest. The businessman dropped to the pavement like a puppet with its strings cut.
"Kyaaaaah!" The young Cautus girl screamed in absolute horror, scrambling backward. The sheer brutality of the execution sent a wave of panic through the crowd, causing the hostages to surge and wail in agitation.
BOOM!
The leader aimed his Arts staff toward the sky, detonating a concussive blast of localized gravity in the air. The shockwave rattled the teeth of everyone present, instantly silencing the commotion.
"Anyone else who makes a noise gets moved to the front of the line," the leader warned, his voice artificially amplified by his mask. He then turned his cold gaze back to the hyperventilating Cautus girl, holding the photograph up again.
"Please! I swear, I don't know anything about that photo!" she sobbed, kneeling on the rubble and pressing her forehead to the ground like a cornered prey.
The leader stared at her with complete indifference for a few agonizing seconds. Then, he met the eyes of his subordinate and gave a small nod.
The grunt lowered his crossbow. For a fleeting second, it seemed the Cautus girl was going to be mercifully spared.
But then the mercenary reached into a specialized lead pouch at his hip and pulled out a jagged, ominously glowing black shard. Active Originium.
"No... no, no, no! Please, don't do this!"
The Cautus girl tried to flee, but two other grunts ruthlessly pinned her to the ground. One mercenary grabbed her wrist, pulling it taut. With a swift, practiced motion of a combat knife, a deep incision was made in her flesh. Before she could even scream from the cut, the mercenary jammed the raw Originium shard directly into the open wound.
"No... this... this can't be real... THIS CAN'T BE RE—!"
Smack!
The butt of a rifle cracked against the back of her head, knocking her out cold. The newly Infected girl was unceremoniously dragged away and tossed into a separate corner of the plaza, her fate now sealed to a lifetime of suffering.
The gruesome scene unfolded before the remaining hostages, leaving them completely paralyzed by despair.
The interrogation continued down the line. Most of the oblivious civilians were either executed on the spot or forcibly infected to be sold as slave labor, depending on their age and apparent physical fitness. The very few who seemed to have even a tangential connection to the aerospace or astronomical industries were separated for further questioning. None of them actually knew what the meteorite in the photo was.
Finally, it was Muelsyses and a young, trembling local physician named Doctor Aegis's turn.
The leader stepped up to the young doctor, shoving the photograph in his face. Aegis was shaking so violently he could barely formulate a word. "I-I'm j-just a clinician! I don't know a-anything about space!"
The leader's eyes narrowed. He raised his hand, signaling the grunt with the Originium shard to step forward.
I have to buy them time, Muelsyses thought, her heart pounding against her ribs. Joshua, Saria... please hurry.
"Are you mercenaries really this stupid?" Muelsyses suddenly spoke up, her voice laced with forced, mocking arrogance as she glared at the Vulpo. "He just told you he's a local clinician. Do you honestly think a random back-alley doctor is going to have classified intel on an extraterrestrial impact? You're wasting your time."
The leader paused, slowly turning his masked face toward the battered Elf.
Slap!
A heavy, backhanded strike caught Muelsyses across the jaw. She was sent sprawling onto the unforgiving concrete, her fractured leg flaring with blinding agony. As she hit the ground, her small designer purse spilled open, scattering her belongings across the rubble.
"You are not in a position to speak unless spoken to, you little—"
The leader stopped mid-sentence. His eyes locked onto a small, laminated ID card that had slid out of her purse. He picked it up, wiping the dust away to read the credentials.
Even through the gas mask, Muelsyses could feel the vile, triumphant grin spreading across his face.
"Well, well. It seems we caught a very big fish," the leader chuckled, crouching down so he was eye-level with her. "You're one of the Rhine Lab founders. Miss Muelsyses. The Director of Ecology, and close confidant to the creator of the Arc Reactor."
He extended a gloved hand toward her. "Forget the meteorite. Hand over the blueprints to the Arc Reactor, and you might get a slightly better treatment than the rest of these rats."
Muelsyses spat a mixture of blood and saliva directly onto the lenses of his gas mask. "Better treatment? From a butcher who murders innocent people just because they're crying? Bite me."
The leader slowly wiped the spit from his mask. A second later, his hand shot out, grabbing Muelsyses roughly by the hair and hauling her up to her knees. She gasped in pain, her hands weakly grabbing at his wrist.
"It seems you've misunderstood the situation here, you arrogant bitch," the leader hissed, his tone dropping to a lethal, freezing register. He pulled a jagged Originium shard from his own pouch, holding it inches from her face. "I am not asking you. I am telling you to be a good girl and hand over the prints. And since you've decided to be difficult, we are going to do this the hard way."
He drew his combat knife and pressed the blade against the black rock. With a forceful scrape, a cloud of raw, highly concentrated Originium dust plumed directly into Muelsyses's face.
The moment the toxic mineral made contact with her skin and lungs, it felt like she had been dunked in boiling acid.
"Gaah—!" Muelsyses violently choked, her body convulsing as the dust burned her respiratory tract. Agonizing, fiery pain shot through her nervous system, completely paralyzing her.
"Do you want to change your mind now?" the leader taunted, watching her suffer.
"Cough! Hack!... Screw... you..." she wheezed, her vision swimming with black spots.
"I see. It's your funeral, then." The leader raised the jagged shard high into the air, aiming directly for her chest.
Muelsyses squeezed her eyes shut. She had no water left to form a shield. Her body was broken. She had stalled as long as she possibly could. I'm so sorry, Joshua... Saria... I guess I won't get to see the wedding after all.
Just as the shard began its lethal descent to pierce her heart—
"Sir, we have a Code Red emergency!"
The frantic crackle of the leader's shoulder radio halted his arm mid-swing. He clicked his tongue in annoyance, carelessly tossing the gasping Muelsyses back onto the ground. He pressed the receiver on his shoulder.
"This is Alpha Squad Actual. Sitrep. What hostile forces are engaging you, over?"
[Patrol Squad Two reporting! Sir, our perimeter has been breached! There is one hostile force approaching the plaza!]
One? The leader blinked behind his mask, utterly baffled by the panicked screaming echoing through the comms. "What the hell do you mean, one hostile?"
[Exactly as it sounds, sir! It's one female Vouivre!] the grunt on the radio shrieked, the sound of bending metal and shattering concrete blasting through the audio feed. [She's tearing right through the barricades! She's taking out half our squad as we speak! God, she just threw a truck—!]
The radio cut to violent static.
"Are you kidding me?!" the leader roared, staring at the dead radio in sheer disbelief. "What kind of nonsense is this?! How does one unarmed woman single-handedly wipe out half a tactical squad?!"