The place the other terrorist was being held in looked more like an abandoned building than a proper holding facility. The building looked barely holding up with cracks running along its walls, some windows were shattered, others were removed completely. There was no presence of surveillance cameras in any of the place's entrances. The only indicator that someone was held captive within its walls was the presence of countless imperial soldiers.
It looked like a hastily made attempt to hold a fort in a hostile environment.
Their party of three stood a distance away from their targeted place, perched atop a rooftop. Jomaira had used her powers on one of the soldiers; it was hard finding the right one, they had to weed out the ones who were posted to guard the festivities and find the ones who were actively seeking out the terrorist.
They couldn't approach the imperial guards for obvious reasons. They were the elite of the empire. The cream at the top. They were composed of the most powerful species in the universe. Two teenagers and one mad Aly'rian would be no match for them.
According to the officer they had 'questioned', there was a small team of imperial guards, the soldiers weren't aware of their exact number. ‘They came and went as they pleased,’ he had said.
Yahya glanced at the Aly'rian crouched next to him, Ayman, he had said he was called. Yahya doubted he could take on even one guard, let alone a couple more. What would they do with the others? Yahya wasn't versed in any fighting technique, and Jomaira was exhausted from overusing her powers.
Yahya looked back at the soldiers standing rock still around the building. How would they even get through them? They were done for, that much was certain.
“Come on,” Ayman said.
“Where?” Yahya asked, dread filling him. He already knew the answer, but somehow, deep down, he was waiting for a miracle to happen, for the madman to snap out from his madness.
It would be a bloodbath down there. Their bloodbath to be exact.
Yahya doubted anything would be left from their corpses to conduct a proper DNA test. Hopefully, their names wouldn't be put on the official list of the neutralized terrorists. He might be going mad, but Yahya felt a little bit relieved by the thought. The man's madness was rubbing off of him.
“We need to get inside,” Ayman announced as if it was some kind of revelation. He looked at Jomaira expectantly.
Jomaira hesitated. “You want me to convince them to leave?” She said slowly as one would speak to a slow child.
“Well, either that or fight our way in.” Ayman shrugged.
“With what?” Yahya snapped. At that moment he didn't fear the madman. Either way they would be dead, by his hand, or riddled by hundreds if not thousands of energy blasts. Or worse, they would be taken prisoners. Alive.
“There's a whole battalion down there, how would I get them to listen to me?” Jomaira muttered.
“Then we'll find someone they would listen to,” he said as if it was a piece of cake.
His nonchalance irked Yahya.
“Are you acquainted with one of their commanding officers?” Yahya narrowed suspicious eyes at him. He wouldn't be that surprised. It all depended on how long he's been a terrorist. Like any other job, one is bound to get more acquainted with his competition.
“No.” Ayman grinned. “Better.”
He pointed towards the building, more accurately, to a figure that had just exited its threshold. An imperial guard in full armor regalia.
“Him,” he said.
If Yahya ever doubted the man's sanity, now he was utterly and absolutely sure. The man was crazy.
“You want Jomaira to convince an imperial guard? Are you mad?” Yahya screamed, bordering on hysterical. It wasn't that he doubted Jomaira's powers, but it was a well known fact that imperial guards were well trained against every kind of mind control. It was simply a suicide mission.
Jomaira's already pale texture turned even paler. “I-I don't know if I can do it.” Her voice quivered.
Yahya turned to Ayman, fists clenched tight around the small binoculars Ayman had handed each of them. He faintly heard a crack but he didn't look down, his eyes boring into the madman that was throwing them to their death.
“No,” he said firmly. “She won't do it. It's too risky.”
The man regarded him with a raised eyebrow. “When did she entrust you to speak on her behalf?”
“She's my friend! I won't let you hurt her.” Yahya's jaw clenched, his eyes shifted fleetingly to the rooftop's only exit. At this point, escaping from him was more eventful than facing an imperial guard.
“Though luck, kid. The world is more than your small kindergarten playground,” he said, his lips tilted up in amusement. “But I commend your courage.” He ruffled Yahya's hair, the action throwing Yahya off and startling him out of his escape planning.
He slapped the terrorist's hand away, his glare deepening as Ayman's grin widened further in amusement.
“It's going to be fine,” Ayman drawled, shrugging. “It's just one guard. You kids overestimate those walking tin cans.” He snorted. He looked at Jomaira. “Just try to convince him. If you can't, I'll take care of him.” He patted her shoulder and started towards the door.
Jomaira glanced dubiously after him. Yahya took her hand and squeezed it gently in comfort. “It's going to be fine, I promise.” He knew he shouldn't be making promises he couldn't keep, but he would loathe to let anything bad happen to her. He would do anything to keep her safe. She was his best friend. His only friend.
She squeezed back, a small smile on her pale lips, and nodded.
First, they had to get near him. Jomaira and Yahya had fought tooth and nails on who should attract the guard's attention. While Jomaira's presence was necessary, Yahya had wanted to accompany her. In case something went wrong, their attention would be divided by two instead of one individual. But Jomaira had insisted she go alone.
Thus, Yahya stood hidden behind an old and rotting recycling bin, eyes glued on Jomaira's form as she slowly made her way to the makeshift checkpoint.
“Relax, kid. nothing bad is gonna happen to your friend.” Ayman snorted.
Yahya threw him a glare before turning to Jomaira's receding form.
“You might have noticed, I'm quite powerful,” Ayman continued, unaffected by Yahya's blatant disregard. “I'm more powerful than all those pitiful excuses of empire janitors combined.”
And more humble, apparently.
“That tin can is no match for me. I can take him on while sleepwalking.”
Sure. Yahya snorted.
“He wouldn't even know what happened. Just let him dare put a hand on your friend, the next second, someone would be asking him who's his God.” He snorted, amused by his own babbling.
Yahya feared they would be the ones answering that question.
“I bet I can kill him with one blow. I can eve-”
“Can you shut up for one second?” Yahya snapped. “This is really not the time for your nonsense. Jomaira is there risking her life for your terrorist friend–”
“Resistance member,” Ayman corrected.
“While you are here boasting about your supposed strength.”
“It's the truth.” The madman shrugged nonchalantly.
“Shut up! Just shut up!” Yahya scowled. “Can't you stay quiet for one second? We need to help Jomaira in case something bad happens.”
His brows were furrowed, but not in annoyance nor in irritation. The jackass was amused by Yahya's temper tantrum.
Yahya pressed his lips, took a deep breath, and paused just enough to gather himself and not throw a real temper tantrum.
“Bad things always happen, kid. it's part of life.” His lips twitched, fighting off a smile but failing. “Like I said, nothing bad would happen to her.” He tilted his head in Jomaira's direction. “Getting stressed would surely not help her.”
“I know, I just…” Words got stuck in his throat. He hated this feeling, this helplessness. He was useless. He was good at nothing but bringing trouble to the people he cared about.
He felt a heavy hand squeeze his shoulder. He didn't even notice when it rested there.
“Relax, kid. It's gonna be fine,” Ayman said, but he wasn't looking at him. Instead, his eyes were fixed on Jomaira as she spoke softly to one of the soldiers, black veins slowly expanding.
Author’s note:
Hi guys, thanks for reading! :)
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