Two guards came down the stairs from the fifth floor. Their mission was to check on two soldiers who had gone down earlier to inspect the basement and hadn't returned. When they reached the third floor they noticed the door to an office was ajar. The man in front raised his weapon while the one behind crept up and kicked the door wide open. The first guard entered with his gun trained; the second remained in the doorway under the watch of a security camera. After confirming the room was empty, they continued up the stairs toward the fourth floor. In an instant a brown shadow dropped from the ceiling, grabbed both men by the sides of their heads, smashed them to the floor and knocked them out, then dragged them into an office where the others were on the fourth floor.
Francesca — stepping away from the window: "Yes, like I told you: we can't go outside up to the twentieth floor. Everyone around the Tower would see us."
Emily — serious: "You know I don't like using violence. Why did you have to bring two of their soldiers down here?"
Francesca — tying the soldiers to a chair: "We're moving blind, and the cameras make it even harder. It would be too risky to get up to twenty only to find the surveillance hub isn't there. I'm sorry for making you do that, Emi."
Emily — puzzled: "Do you think the detective lied to us?"
Francesca — folding her arms: "No. But if I were running things, I would change everything so whoever entered would act the way I want them to."
Emily — surprised: "So you mean that thread we found on the main door…!"
Tyron — serious: "It was probably some kind of explosive. Be grateful I've seen so many action movies. Fran, are you planning to torture these guys to get confirmation?"
The blonde looked at Alexa with anger. "No — I don't know how to do that. But we have something that can tell us how they think." The dark-haired girl raised an eyebrow. It took her a second to understand what Francesca meant. She said, "A connection can only be used if you have a specific emotional bond with the other person." The blue-eyed girl stepped up to one of the soldiers and placed her hand on his forehead. "You know more about Fiu and its techniques than we do, so answer me honestly: would the technique still work if the emotional bond were a negative emotion instead?" Her words made the green-eyed trainee tremble and take a step back. She swallowed, remembering the many warnings Alicia had given her about using the dark side of Fiu.
Alexa sighed, lifted her gaze and looked into Francesca's bright eyes. "Well, Fiu is like any energy — it has a positive and a negative side, so in theory it should work. The problem is the positive side is easier to manipulate because access opens when people feel positive emotions. In short, it's easier to feel good than to feel bad…" She swallowed and shivered from the chill. Taking a deep breath she continued, "…but when you use the dark or negative Fiu, many people can't separate themselves from those negative emotions. They become dominated and lose their minds because of the enormous power it gives. Still, you need that specific bond to enter someone's mind." Francesca crouched and signaled Emily to stay close — if the soldier showed any sign of waking they should knock him out instantly. She closed her eyes and focused her emotions: rage, fear and hatred at the situation they were living through. A burning sensation ran through her body as if she were burning; a powerful headache came on, sweat streamed down her forehead. With enormous effort she centered on her contempt for the dark-haired girl disguised as a vigilante and managed to enter the soldier's mind. Movement became heavy — her shoulders felt as if they carried a plane on each — but with superhuman concentration she saw the number and location of the soldiers, where the hostages were being kept, she saw Jane locked in an office on the twenty-fifth floor, and she briefly glimpsed a black-haired man on a rooftop.
Tyron — grabbing Francesca: "That's enough!" They both fell to the floor.
Francesca — breathless: "Th-th-thanks," she exhaled.
Alexa: "What kind of bond did you use to get into his head?"
Francesca — trying to stand: "I figured they'd think we were avoiding their attacks on the city, so they'd feel contempt toward us."
Emily — helping Francesca, worried: "But you don't actually hate all of us, do you?"
Francesca — holding Emily and Tyron's shoulders: "Of course not. But there is one of us I truly can't stand…" — looking at Alexa — "…so it was easy to use that as a key to get in."
The four waited a few minutes for Francesca to recover. Once they were ready, they waited for a camera to look the other way and ran up the stairs to the fifth floor. They continued without stopping, dodging a few cameras until they reached the fifteenth floor, where they froze at the sound of two more guards coming down. Hearing footsteps on the upper stairs, Tyron leapt, drawing his blade, and made a shallow cut on each guard's knee, sending them tumbling down the stairs until the girls stopped them. They pressed on to the twenty-fourth floor and entered an office. Francesca announced: "Okay — what we do now has to be quick. I already apologized, Emily, for making you hit those two. Understand: I don't trust that stupid Wind. Tyron's too impatient for the kind of task that needs patience. I still have a grudge against the idiot, but now you must lead the assault. There are six soldiers guarding the entrance to the woman with the tablet." She looked each of them in the eye. The others nodded; the brunette wore a doubtful expression, unsure of her part in the plan.
Francesca — serious: "Emily, if you're not going to strike them, I need you to disarm every guard. Tyron and I will take care of knocking them out. Wind, you have to stay beside Emily because two cameras point at the door where that woman hides; the moment she sees our movements she'll raise the alarm."
Tyron — serious: "They are the Director's men. If they get warning, they'll kill the hostages. They're not looking for a ransom — they want to conquer the city."
Francesca — calm: "Good point. Emily, your role is crucial. One threat is the camera woman; another is the sound of a single gunshot. I know I'm giving you great responsibility, but it would be worse to tell you it's okay if one of them fires."
The brunette swallowed. If her father and sister were still alive, she could cause their deaths. The four prepared. When the camera turned away they ran up to the twenty-fifth floor and stopped at the last step. Alexa and Emily stood up front. The dark-haired girl formed a sphere of wind in her hand. Francesca and Tyron placed their hands on the hilts of their katanas. Emily swallowed, drew her sword and placed her left hand above the right. Why is the Védelem stance like this? I'm right-handed! Worries crowded her head; the blade trembled in her sweating hands. Alexa noticed, put a free hand on the brunette's shoulder and the girl calmed slightly. Two warm touches appeared on her back from her two companions. With their support she regained composure and leapt to attack.
The soldiers saw the hooded figures rush at them and raised their guns. The blue-clad one (Francesca) dodged with a single jump, swung in front of the door and kicked it open, launching her wind sphere at the woman holding the tablet. The first two soldiers who tried to fire had their weapons cleanly sliced by the gray-hooded girl. They dropped their stocks and were left vulnerable: Topacio vaulted and with a semi-circular kick smashed their heads against the wall. Plata continued when three men pointed at her — she struck the nearest barrel and made the weapons collide, leaving them in a row she cut skillfully before slipping to the last guard. Lapislázuli dove, used her left hand for support and launched a pair of kicks to each guard's face, knocking them unconscious as she landed. The last guard raised his weapon toward the brown-clad one, but his gun split in two; he saw his opponent duck and the yellow and blue-clad pair struck his chin with a double punch. The five attackers clashed while Alexa threw Jane and the other soldiers aside and stamped the tablet into pieces.
Francesca — smiling: "Well, that reduces our problems for now. There won't be guards until seventy-four. I don't know how to get into the conference hall; we'll need a door." She paused, thinking.
Tyron — smiling: "Looks like we almost have it."
Alexa: "No — we haven't freed the hostages yet. We have nothing to celebrate. We must be more careful than ever; they'll get suspicious when the camera woman fails to report."
They agreed and continued upward. When they realized the blonde had lagged behind, they returned to find her already climbing while she pocketed her phone. The brown-haired boy wanted to ask a question but the girl seemed to read his mind and said, "Maybe we'll get a little help from the inside." Together they pushed on. Their leg muscles stiffened from the climb and the thinning oxygen was noticeable; when they reached the sixtieth floor they stopped to recover. Alexa leaned against the wall beside the next stairwell. Emily walked off to find water, Tyron stretched, and Francesca read a message from Nya: Of course I'm still in the building! How long can you and your friends take to arrive? The teenager smiled, which caught Tyron's attention. "Why so happy?" he asked. She didn't answer, focusing instead on calling the others. Once they had reunited she said with a smile, "Remember the girl who knows we're the vigilantes? She's here, hiding. If we find her she can tell us how the conference hall is laid out so we can figure out how to knock out the eight guards inside."
Meanwhile, in a police truck functioning as a mobile camera center, officers tried to jam the criminals' radio system without success. Matias saw Alexandre Sejuk looking worried and put a hand on his shoulder. "Have faith, sir. We'll get your son out. Want another coffee?" Alexandre shook his head, looked at the ground and said, "A tea, if you don't mind." The detective left the truck and, checking his phone, saw the adolescents had only texted: beware — traps at the entrance. Concerned, he walked into a small café. While standing in line with his tea, he glimpsed a hooded figure in a light-blue sweatshirt and black pants in an alley and angrily went after him — but the man had vanished. Looking around for any sign, he closed his eyes, gripped the plastic cup of tea and muttered, "Jayden Damnare." A gust of wind swept the alleyway for a few seconds where the policeman had been standing. On the rooftop of a building adjacent to the sixty-story Liz Tower, Matias opened his eyes and scanned for his friend. He looked across the cornice and found Jayden, hoodless, sitting and sipping the tea Matias had just bought.
Matias — angry: "What the hell are you doing here? Didn't you say you would protect the city?"
Jayden — throwing the tea cup into the void: "No. I said I would watch over your city until someone from it decided to protect it themselves."
Matias — furious: "Are you trying to justify your acts? Please — you could have stopped everything with Maximus and today's events in a split second!"
Jayden — standing: "Yes, I could. But this is my students' battle — for a warrior to interfere in someone else's fight is an insult. Though I don't see why that's so different from that time with that dwarf."
Matias: "There is a difference. They're the same kind of people who stormed a mall and killed people for the hell of it. Don't their lives concern you?"
Jayden — closing his eyes, remembering four laughing teens: "Their lives matter. As their teacher my duty is to guide them, help them improve and learn from mistakes. If I always protect them, they'll never reach their goals. To form scars you must suffer wounds."
Matias — furious, pointing his gun at him: "Enough! Go now to save those people or I'll shoot you!"
Jayden — glancing at Matias: "Do you really think you can take my life?"
Gathering courage, the detective lowered his weapon and fell to his knees. In a sad tone he put the pistol away. "Sorry. I just hate having to promise things I can't guarantee." The warrior kept looking at the building. They stood in a silence so deep the city's noisy clamor sounded distant. The man with short black hair sighed and, without looking back at the policeman, said, "If we could promise only what we can certainly deliver, there'd be no need for oaths. Don't expect me to save kids or people if it's too risky. As a friend, I ask you to trust the warriors I'm training." Matias nodded and returned to the alley with a new cup of steaming tea. On the cornice Jayden closed his eyes and let the memory of metal clashing and blood and the cry "He is a bad master!" haunt him.
On the sixty-eighth floor, in the janitor's closet, Nya blocked the door with three mops and watched her phone. She saw that her blonde friend had read the message and thought, Don't you dare die, stupid! Footsteps sounded. She saw, in the dim light under the door, a figure stop in front. She covered her mouth and held the phone still, hoping the stranger would leave — but he didn't. He tried to open the door. Scared, she grabbed floor wax, smashed the bottle and poured it at the entry. The doorknob stopped moving when the blade of a sword slid through the top. The sword cut the knob into two pieces and Nya swallowed hard.
Tyron — breaking a piece of door: "Hello…?" — and got drenched by wax.
Nya ran toward the elevator without looking back. The yellow-clad boy wiped wax from his eyes, gently set the broken door and some mops aside and thought about chasing her, but Emily had already caught up and stood in front of the elevator. The piercing-haired girl asked, "Who are they?" They all exchanged looks and then removed their scarves and hoods, which relaxed the leather-jacketed girl. She apologized to Tyron, who went to a bathroom to wipe the floor wax from his face. Francesca asked, "Why didn't they catch you?" making their companion widen her eyes in surprise and remember Jerome's help. She grabbed the blonde's shirt and said, "They have your brother. He let himself get taken so I could hide!" Francesca and the dark-haired girl watched their friend's reaction closely. She only closed her eyes and gave them a warm smile.
The four teens continued, accompanied by the leather-jacketed girl, who exclaimed, "Why should I go with you? I'd only be in the way." The two browns and the dark-haired girl accepted this; the blonde took a breath, turned to face them and said, "Because I need you for something risky none of the rest of you can do."
Nya — puzzled: "What?"
Francesca — serious: "You must let yourself be captured so they'll take you to the other hostages."
Tyron — shocked: "Are you insane?! We can't give them another hostage!"
Francesca — serious, unsheathing her katana and pointing it at the wall: "Look — it probably seemed strange that after the twenty-fifth floor we found nobody. They've split the tower into two sections: the lower and upper zones. The lower one will alert them if the police or we are detected, but the camera woman sent notice to all soldiers. They can cut main power, but the Tower has two backup generators: one on the third floor that feeds up to fifty-four, and a second on the sixtieth floor that supplies the rest. The upper section contains the rest of the hostages separated across three floors — seventy-four to seventy-six."
Emily: "So they could cut power to the lower floors and disable cameras. They'd then wait for another confirmation before killing the hostages."
Francesca — calm: "Exactly. So Nya will act scared by the gunshots and they'll take her to the others. The soldiers will hesitate on whether to send reinforcements, and that will be enough to lower their guard so we can deal with the nine guards in the first area."
Nya — serious: "I still don't see my role in your brilliant plan."
Francesca — drawing the seventy-fifth floor on her phone: "Text 'yes' when you're inside. Once there, look for another way in… The truth is, to rescue the hostages without breaking the master's rules again we can't go through the main doors — there are only two doors that connect to different corridors, each defended by four guards, and the walls are too thick to breach. If Nya confirms another possible entrance we can enter after taking out the hall guards and the eleven soldiers on the seventy-sixth floor."
Everyone agreed. The piercing-haired girl thought a moment and then gave her approval, wanting to make up for what Jerome had done for her. Nya walked alone, very cautious. She paused and let tears flow before running like someone desperate up to the seventy-fourth floor.
Ten soldiers aimed guns at the pink-haired girl who had fallen to the floor. One soldier lifted her by the arm while the others kept their weapons trained. The adolescent screamed, "Please don't kill me!" This confused the soldiers. The man holding her shook her and asked, "Why are you shouting about shots?" The girl wiped her eyes and stammered, "I heard shots down below!" One of the soldiers exclaimed, "Hey — it's Nya Liz. Take her to the others. They'll pay a lot for her!" He nodded and dragged her into the next level. The soldier warned the others not to shoot, turned his back, and didn't notice faint wheezing sounds. He handed her to his colleague and shoved her into the room with the other hostages. A thud sounded, alerting the four guards in each hallway; they raised their guns, but when a barrel appeared from below they lowered their guard. A thrown weapon and two shadows from each side quickly knocked them out.
The conference hall was stifling. Nya barely inside and already sweating, the guards forced her to sit next to a fair-haired man who hugged his daughter, and a curly-haired dark woman who hugged her son. The teenager scanned the room for the thing Francesca had asked about. The air was thin with so many people packed in; she wondered about ventilation. She raised her head and saw vents at opposite ends of the room. She carefully slid the phone from the sleeve of her jacket and sent: "Yes." With that resolved she began to look for Sejuk's eldest son, but didn't see him anywhere. She nudged the man beside her; he lifted his head and she recognized him. Quietly filled with hope she whispered, "Roberto?" The patriarch of the Forcer family was surprised the girl knew his name. He subtly checked the soldiers weren't watching and whispered, "How do you know my name?" The girl smiled and answered, "It's me — Mónica Nya Liz." He was startled and signaled his daughter, who moved away from his chest and whispered, "Who is she, Papa?" He replied with a faint smile, "She's an old friend of your sister." Before the conversation could continue, the pink-haired girl asked, "Do you know where they have a blond boy in a leather jacket?" Roberto's gaze dropped.
Emily sent the detective a message: We're in; we almost have the situation under control! Francesca yanked a grille off and offered the brunette to go in first. Tyron and Alexa entered through another opening and headed inside to free the captives. They returned to find Nya angry and whispering, "No matter how much they beat him, he wouldn't tell them what they wanted." Roberto confirmed: "Yes — they left him behind that table." The girl clenched her fists until she spotted the blue-hooded figure in the ventilation shaft and remembered the problem with the mysterious man who had photographed them. She noticed a light switch near one of the doors, kept her eyes on it and, without taking them off, slowly moved. The man beside her noticed and asked worriedly, "What are you planning to do?"
Nya — serious: "To get rescued they need darkness. I'll run so they can save us."
Roberto — serious: "How do you know they'll rescue us the moment the lights go out? You're not just risking your life."
Nya: "It's the faith I must have."
Roberto: "Then you can't do it." He looked at the dark-haired woman. "Irene — take care of Cami."
Irene — hugging her daughter: "Are you stupid, Roberto? They'll kill you the moment you try."
Roberto — lowering his head: "I know. But if this girl believes that darkness will bring rescue, I must let her try."
Irene — severe: "My husband always spoke of you. You're his best friend, but he never said you were so foolish. You have two daughters; you can't risk your life."
Roberto — bending his head: "Bravery is often mistaken for stupidity when the objective isn't achieved. I'd rather be remembered as a hero than live as a coward."
The elder Forcer ran through the room, alerting the soldiers who pointed at him and fired, grazing his arm. He felt the pain but didn't stop — he lunged and smashed the light. With the darkness, one of the vents popped open and flew into the face of the soldier who had grazed Roberto's arm. Emily jumped from her hiding place and struck one soldier hard in the stomach, grabbed the back of his head and slammed him to the floor. Another opponent raised his weapon and received a punch to the chin from the blue-clad girl and a finishing straight from the brunette that broke his nose. Two others tried to retaliate but were knocked out by the brunette's blows. Tyron cut one opponent's leg slightly, moved behind him and struck the back of his neck with the edge of his hand; the last two were slammed against the wall by a sphere of air. Roberto switched the lights back on and everyone was surprised to see their captors unconscious. Hearing footsteps on the other side of the door, the tall man moved away. The detective arrived and shouted, "Everyone stay still — you're under arrest!" He smiled at the sight of everyone alive and safe. "Former hostages, you're free. Open the doors and come down in an orderly fashion — more officers are waiting below." Matias wondered where the four teenagers were; he hadn't seen them come down.
Tyron — climbing the last steps to the roof: "Why are we going up? If we jump they'll see us from below."
Francesca — serious, holding the doorknob: "We still can't go down. There's one more man left — someone wearing the same bulletproof vest as the soldiers, but he doesn't have a weapon."
The four stepped out into the fresh air. A breeze blew their hoods off, but they put them back on. They climbed the stairs toward the heliport, swords gripped. The youths lined up while Boris sat with his back to them, kneeling. The blonde felt an old sensation she couldn't place. The place remained silent; no one moved. Finally, Boris rose to his feet using his sword as support…