"Hello?" Mike whispered, face almost fixed in the ajar door. Before he could pass the threshold, Jane grabbed the back of his hood, pulling it off his blonde head. "Just wait a sec!" He let out a fry scream.
"What do you even think you're doing!?" Mike spun around, tugging the cozy top back over his brows. "Me? Just what are you thinking, going inside without a proper explanation? What would we say to Facade?"
"I. Don't. Really. Know!" Mike retorted, but it eventually made him ponder.
Watson, a temporary companion assigned to complete the mission 'EAR' with Gutter Rats, entirely ditched them half ways. It was one heated exchange between Mike and Jane that provided him with an opening, and he vanished like mist.
"What do you mean, 'I don't know'? That's serious! Haven't you noticed Facade's reaction earlier?" Jane muttered, trying to beat sense into Mike.
He had been somber since witnessing Facade's behavior—the way he told them to come to an unknown place. Especially, bringing a boy with mixed intentions.
"I know, Jane. But it's he who'll pay the price, not us. We're here, sharp on time," Mike clarified, fiddling with the edge of his knitted hoodie. "We can't cover up for a strang—a liar, basically. I'm not sure what Facade had in his evil mind, but it's best we leave Watson behind." He shrugged after completing his sentence.
Yes. I bet that he'd been working for another society. But...who could be staging politics at times like this?
"I'm not saying to cover him up." Jane heaved a bitter sigh, walking to the nearest wall before leaning in. "We can't possibly return to the Mansion without him."
"Not even with him." Mike finally gave up on idling and joined Jane, eyes locked on his brown lambwool jacket. "The Forces already know we're from the Mansion, Jane. And damn our luck... they saw our faces. Do you know what'll happen to us if Hood finds out?"
Jane's only response was his lifting hands, forcing each inside his welt pockets. "Facade ain't going to cover up, that's for sure. We're...we're dead." Words echoed dark against the dawn, defeat visible from his sunk shoulders. All he did was give a hopeless grin to the morning light, his face painted in amber hues.
"We're dead, Mike." He repeated. Motionless.
Mutter felt like a grave to Mike when he noticed his own frame, legs continuously shaking against the ground.
Despite being composed for too long, he failed to overlook his end—his execution just because of his revealed identity. Maybe it'll be in a month, or a week. Or will it be today?
He didn't know. He didn't know any of it.
"It'll be... fine." Yet somehow, he managed to deceive his thoughts, inside nothing more than chaos.
"We both know it's not fine, Mike!" Jane snapped, finally whipping his face towards Mike. "Watson aside, Facade was escorting us to the Mansion!" Even knowing Facade could be across the door, Jane couldn't keep his voice down. "He's an elite, Mike. He's with the Mansion. With Hood!"
Breeze hit the narrow alley as he spoke, brushing against his stiff features. "We could have something in clearance if we hadn't removed our masks." Agitation shimmered in unease, startling Mike from his place.
He was now erect, gaze locked upon Jane's frame. Strangely enough, he couldn't feel those chills crawling down his spine anymore. He was serene, like a calm sea.
Even if his hood concealed the morning sun, he clearly saw those memories flashing one after another, hinting at something he turned from.
"You know what?!" It took a single dash to reach Jane, and he grabbed him by collar. "I thought it was Facade's fault to give a heroic performance like that. Like really!? He knows his face is like a display dummy, but still, he barged in like it was nothing! That's too dumb to follow."
"Huh...?" Jane was left stunned, focus unconsciously on his woolen hood. "Darn the masks and the blueprints and Hood and everyone! I'm not dying like nothing after doing all this hectic work for the Mansion."
Words synced with his views as he spoke, pure at both ends. What could be possibly worse than shrinking and abandoning your own mother? Someone who raised you out of love and care? What's more terrible than that?
"I may be revealed, but I'm not gonna give up on my mother, damn it!!" Mike continued, wrapping the woolen neckline over his wrist. Voice cracked and gave away his helplessness, leaving him with a brief pause.
Jane listened; his situation more or less like Mike's. Nearly a population in the Mansion had the same reason to accept the cycle. They couldn't quit, they couldn't stop, because it weren't lifeless things at stake, but breathing souls, each having separate bonds.
"I ain't gonna leave this world without seeing my brother." Jane scoffed at last, Mike's action reflecting upon something undeniable.
You got me.
He released a sharp flick on his forehead. "Ouch!" Mike let go of his collar, hands now rubbing the affected area.
"You spooky nitwitted Mike."
"Who the heck are you calling spooky!??" Mike hissed, forming his wrists into a punch. Jane felt a string of relief, more evident than on normal days. Every time Mike lost his temper, Jane could recall only one familiar picture: a person imprisoned within the depths of the Mansion.
Black hair against his pure skin, eyes like coal, he resembled his own features. His brother.
"You, of course." Jane tittered, placing his nonchalant way back in shape. "You can wear something more manly, you know." He complimented Mike's creepy outfit, though still merged in worry, he was able to speak out of his melancholy.
"That's exactly manly!" Mike backend, pointing at his awkward style.
The hoodie was a series of acrylic yarn, knits over knits, ending in an oversized garment. Sides were divided in two colors, one cream and the other black, both stitched loosely in the middle. The more notable part was the oval cut near its bottom, forming a wide smile on the front. It was carelessly sewn, just like an oval patch on the left chest, filling the gap for a black eye.
All in all, it was a spooky, smiling face.
"It's... trending," he mumbled under his breath after much observance.
"Looks like I'm not living in the same year."
"Hey, it's really high in demand!"
"Not manly though." Jane teased, smoothing and dusting his denim-on-denim looks.
He's back to normal...
Even being the scornful one, Mike couldn't help but feel glad to see Jane regaining his carefree style. He puffed a soft laugh and entered the building without more delay.
"Mike, wait!"
"Jane, you know we can't stay on the doorside wall forever, and I don't think Facade is here anyways." He marched through the gloomy area, eyes reading each tangible detail.
The windows were lapped with curtains, such coverage that sunlight failed to penetrate the room. Furniture was of dark wood; even with the door open, most of the things were drowned in darkness.
To add more to the effect, the wall across stretched further in the dark, almost like an endless trail.
Jane followed him inside, flipping the button upwards. Lights turned on, but were almost useless before the blackness. "What the... what kind of lights are these?" His face turned to the upper wall; only a trail of sparkling dots was visible on both sides, so small it felt like stars in the cosmos.
"What's the deal with this grand room??" The elegance was far more unsettling than its ominous lightning. Mike gradually paced the flooring, its marble glinting from the rays bouncing from the entrance. "Are we supposed to hide?"
"Maybe. The Forces should be surveying this zone by now." Jane replied, walking in the dimly-lit atmosphere. "What about the car then?" Mike nearly merged with shadows as he progressed, his view straining to make out the obstacles.
"It's Facade's problem. We did what we were told to." Jane slid a margin of his concerns into Facade's tab, his attention solely on the disturbing room. Sight first studied the different layouts, perhaps the sequence of different furniture in the interior. Most of them were décor tables against the wall, while others were mostly a kind of table. There were huge, round tables at each distance, falling flat to outline those within the core.
"What's Facade planning by dropping us here anyways?" He deliberated, finger still stuck on the button. "Who cares. Probably scheming another devilish plan." Mike tossed his shoulders, halting at random steps for clearance.
"Hey, pipe down. You badmouthed him a lot out there. What if he listens? You'll be shot dead." Jane left his frozen state at last, passing by Mike just to check over the nearest console desk.
"Wha—? How are you able to see?" He asked from the left, staring at Jane even though he couldn't make out his gestures. "I was born to be an owl." Mike instantly pulled a face from his remark, making his own way to the décor desk on the right.
Jane rifled its small drawer, his fingers only feeling the crisp of pages. He tackled one deep within the stack, mild radiance enough to make it readable. "What's that?" The writing was a heap of mess, strokes almost out of each line.
The instant he turned to call Mike, his eyes caught a blurry figure, an average silhouette standing at the door. "Welcome..." Mike abruptly swung his head to the unfamiliar sound, leaving all the findings at once.
Solar light obscured the stranger's face, casting a shadow upon anything ahead of him. "To my domain," he whispered, and the door closed shut.