Haylen guided Aliyah towards the executioner and the guillotine beside which he stood. Upon reaching the frame of the guillotine, Haylen forced Aliyah to her knees to be secured with stocks at the bottom of the device.
Aliyah seemed to be in a trance as all this happened, almost non-responsive as the moment of her death neared. Down to her knees, she only looked where her eyes were cast: down, at the teeming, hungry crowd. Down at their faces, at the glee, the excitement, the impatience, the—
One face did not quite look like the others. Westward of the headquarters compound, her eyes had seized on a boy in his late teens with a mask covering the bottom half of his face. It was more his eyes than anything. They did not possess the hunger for violence that the rest of the crowd did, and they were not focused on her and the spectacle unwinding before them; they instead roved flittingly around, almost suspiciously. And what was it about the boy exactly that put her off? It was as if the answer were at the tip of her tongue, but she just could not arrive at it.
"People of Doranne," Wilda's voice blared all around. "I bid you enjo—"
The following events occurred in rapid succession.
Two figures appeared at the top of the wall to Aliyah's right. Armoured in ExoSuits, they burst into action. At the outstretched, gun-wielding hand of one of the Suited figures, a loud bang cracked. A wet, fleshy noise sounded to Aliyah's left just as she noticed that the air was tinged with a red mist that sprayed finely on her skin. She smelt it and tasted it on the bit that coated her open mouth. Blood. The executioner—crashing to the glass floor like a log of wood—was dead, a precise bullet-sized hole decorating the centre of his head.
"Let's go!"
Amidst her dazedness, Aliyah looked up, following the voice. It was Haylen, urging a furious Wilda to retreat into the safety of their tower. Both of them stared at the quickly approaching Suited figures: Wilda coldly, eyes hardened with the promise of slow yet sure revenge; and Haylen frightfully, her instincts screaming at her that they would not survive the intruders if they remained out in the open like sitting ducks.
Aliyah looked back at the Suited figures and they were blindingly quick, eating up the distance of the ramp separating them like it was nothing.
Wilda finally obliged, yielding to Haylen's tug. The guard drew Wilda, retreating towards the large doors which she opened. With an uncertain pause, she shoved Wilda inwards, shut the doors, retrieved her blade from its sheath, and slid the sheath through the handles of the doors. "Go, Wilda. I'll hold them off!" she screamed at the door. Without waiting for a response, Haylen stepped up to Aliyah, keeping a close eye on the Suited figures drawing ever close.
Aliyah noticed something slither beneath Haylen's clothes. A dark thin, metallic fiber glided out from beneath the guard's collar and the edges of her sleeves, covering every inch of exposed skin. When Haylen grabbed her by the upper arm, her grip was like cold steel against her skin. The guard was not going to go up against ExoSuits without using one herself.
Haylen placed an arm across Aliyah's chest and hovered her blade inches over Aliyah's neck.
The Suited figures arrived at the glass platform.
"District Head," Haylen welcomed the figure to the left. "And my brother's killer," she greeted the other.
Aliyah did not know how she had not figured it out before. Now, however, that she paid attention she saw that it was indeed Gringe and Germaine.
Haylen went on, "As you see, her life is in my hands. Step a foot closer and off goes her head."
Gringe responded—a voice Aliyah was all too pleased to hear once again—"And if you kill her, off goes Wilda's as well. You know we'll find her eventually. Let her go, and we'll leave Wilda alone."
Haylen responded with a cackle that raised Aliyah's hackles. It was a manic type of laughter. The kind that suggested Haylen was struggling to find a way out of the situation, and desperate people often only find desperate solutions.
Germaine must have noticed this as well, for he raised both his arms, palms facing the sky. "Alright, look." The obsidian ExoSuit that armoured him like a second skin began to retract from his extremities, receding underneath his clothes till all of his skin was uncovered by the ExoSuit.
Haylen had a suspicious look in her eye but seemed to be calmer.
Germaine pressed on. Careful not to spook Haylen with any sudden movements, he asked, "May I?"
Haylen nodded, the blade she placed over Aliyah's neck entirely still.
Germaine lowered one arm to his waist, dipped it underneath his shirt, and removed the core of his ExoSuit sitting just above his navel. The circular core glowed a muted emerald in his hand.
"Now, toss it," Haylen ordered.
"No now," Germaine replied, holding the core out before him. "This is just a show of good faith. Let her go, and I'll toss it."
Haylen flicked a glance over at the District Head. "What would stop him from coming for me the instant you do that? Heck, what would stop you from reattaching the core then?"
Aliyah's eye caught on a slight movement from Gringe; a tensing.
Germaine shrugged. "I guess you'll just have t—"
The world exploded with sound, heat, colour, and a shockwave. Haylen was sent flying towards the door, Aliyah still clasped in her one hand and her blade in the other. Germaine was thrown off the edge of the glass platform, sailing down out of sight. But Gringe…
***
The time before the bomb went off was ticking down in Gringe's head, his attention only half-capturing the conversation between Germaine and Haylen. The explosive had been set minutes ago.