Nighttime had come, the search still parting the whole resources headquarters in half. Everywhere, the old picture of Ethan was spreading, but now with blue eyes.
Ethan himself looked at his own picture, all around the garrison. A bit of sweat passed by his forehead.
"Don’t worry about it," Marcus said. "You look totally different, the picture is old and has dark hair, while you, on the other hand..." he said, looking closer.
The white hair was getting much longer, his beard curling out much faster than a few hours before. Marcus realized the one in the photo, and the one before him, had changed, drastically so, and changing still.
"With your eyes and hair, did your jawline change as well? And your height, were you this tall before?"
"Don’t know, not keeping tabs on myse—"
"And your biceps, why are they hard as steel? It’s like I’m touching metal itself," he said, feeling his whole arm.
Ethan backed away, slightly pushing Marcus off. "Hey, you know I don’t go down that route?"
"Haa! I know, you prefer someone like the Hound or the cap—"
"Shut up."
Marcus simply smiled, zipping his lips, not speaking any further. She was not with them for the moment, as she had said her sister was here, and she’d been asking for her since she arrived.
"So what’s the plan here, Captain?" Marcus asked.
"I’m no captain."
"You’re wearing that uniform, and I don’t know how she did it, but we have new names and new posts. I thought the empire was without plot holes, a perfect empire. But..." he said, gazing at the symbol on his gun.
"It happens," Ethan replied. "When one wins too much, they start slipping."
Marcus paused. His legs stopped. Ethan, who was walking forward, stopped as well, looking back. "What happened?"
Marcus’s eyes were still on the symbol, his thoughts dwelling on many things. "Ethan..." he whispered.
"Hmm..."
"We already did what we ought to have done, cleaned our records. I mean, look at you, you look like you just had surgery, and my name has been deleted from the files," he said, coming closer.
"Isn’t this the perfect chance to leave? To start something new? We can..."
"Marcu—" Ethan interjected, but—
"No, you listen to me for a goddamn second. Yes, I’ve said yes to your thoughts on rebellion, but... but let’s stop being delusional. There’s a reason the empire is still standing, even after two thousand years.
Many have tried, many have failed. Ethan, let’s come to our senses and leave."
Ethan looked at those eyes; he knew what it meant. He wasn’t a mind reader, but it didn’t take one to understand. Marcus was simply afraid. Why? Of course, the reason was the Hound. He was afraid another number would be added to her kill count.
That wasn’t the real issue. By all rights, he should tell Marcus to leave, to live his own life. Why stay with a fugitive like him? But he knew, for some reason, Marcus wouldn’t. He still carried the guilt of betraying him.
"Marcus, you don’t need to help me. It’s okay, I forgive you. You’ve helped me enough — that alone covers your debt."
Yes, he didn’t want to say it. He wanted him close, watching his back, like the old days during training. Maybe that was too much to ask for.
"What!"
"What..."
"What do you mean, ’what’? You thought I stayed with you because of my guilt?"
"....."
"Sometimes you’re kind of rude, you know. I stayed because I realized it, even though it was late, I realized you were my friend, my brother," he said, placing his hand on his shoulder. "And I ask you again, as a brother: let’s leave this hellhole, let’s leave this empire. Aren’t you afraid?"
No.
He wasn’t. For some reason, even when the Hound’s sword was one millimeter from cutting his neck, he had thought the adrenaline had taken away his fear, but no. He couldn’t feel it: the shaking of his legs, the feeling of wanting to give up.
Nothing.
But nonetheless, he wanted to say yes to Marcus. A part of him did. Their lives would be completely different, they could live, properly live. Work. Find a wife. Find a house. Have a family and die old.
"Marcus..." he called. "This wor—"
"You two!" someone called from behind. Another high captain.
Marcus turned, saluting right away; Ethan too, saluting to the man.
"You’re both Ray and Charlie, right?" he asked, checking the badge numbers on their wrists.
"Sir, yes sir!" Both Ethan and Marcus replied, their new names on their chests.
"The chief has asked you both to come to his office."
"The chief?" Marcus asked.
"I don’t know what you both did, but he doesn’t look happy. Now get to it. Go! Pronto!" he ordered.
Both Ethan and Marcus gulped and nodded. Their eyes said it all.
They were too damn late.
At the top of the headquarters, where everything was visible, the crimson hair lay bare, wet. Her bathrobe barely covered her high chest and lean waist.
Why do the higher-ups want him?
Olivia thought. She knew she was needed elsewhere, at the front lines, where she excelled the most. She waved her hand, and Ethan’s hologram appeared once more, circling, with his stats right below.
"Level 5?" she questioned, feeling her chest. "That didn’t feel like a punch from a level five," she said, coming closer to the hologram, her eyes looking right at his.
Ding!
The doorbell rang.
"Who dares?"
"Captain Karisa, here by your call. Centurion."
That soft voice, Olivia recognized it right away, switching the hologram off. She ran to the door. Opening it, she saw her sister, carrying that same floral scent.
"Karisa!" she called, hugging her right away. "It’s really been a while."
Karisa smiled, or tried to, feeling her sister’s wet body against her uniform. "You requested me?"
"Stop talking like that and come in," she said, pulling her in, shutting the door behind them.
Inside the room, she saw the majestic room, a room reserved for high-ranking guests. Not even their chief had permission to stay here, and she reigned in it like it was her own room.
"So..."
"So what? You didn’t miss me?" Olivia asked.
"Centur—"
"Call me sis, like usual."
"Bu—"
"I order you to!" she bellowed.
"Okay... sis. Why did you come here?"
"I figured you would know. I smelled a beast, you know. You missed it," Olivia replied, taking off her robe, baring her skin, showing her chest mostly.
Karisa saw it as she came closer, and behold, she couldn’t believe it. Bruises. She had never seen even a wound on her sister before, but now, bruises. Her lips twitched a bit, forcing herself to stop smiling.
"W-what happened?"
"Ha, your sis just found a new pet. Forget about that, tell me more about you, how have you been? Why haven’t you visited our clan?"
Karisa looked away from her eyes, staying silent, with no answers ready to speak. She had lies prepared, just for this occasion, but those eyes. Those eyes of hers had evolved once more; she could feel it. Which meant lies were useless.
"I’m leaving. I’m busy at the moment," she said, walking away, but her hand was caught.
"Karisa..."
"..."
"Oh, my Karisa..." she said, still holding her, tightly even.
"Let go, you’re hurting me," she said.
But Olivia didn’t care. She simply came closer and closer, towering over her by a few inches, her other hand now around Karisa’s waist.
Sniff.
"You still smell so good. I missed this," she said. "Why don’t you stay the night?"
"Sis, plea—"
"Shush... you will stay the night," she ordered, unbuttoning Karisa’s uniform. "I have waited... long enough."