"If you see me again, that is," he replied—having no intention to compliment him further.
"Turquoise. It's turquoise, Mister Facade," the teal one left. Fiverr—on the other hand—stretched his hands to shake Facade's. He did the same.
"Well, I know you."
"Yes, yes. Oh, look at that!" He pointed at Facade's old and shaggy cloak. "I bet you picked the black one yourself. To be honest, this one looks good on you."
Fiver tried to butter him up—like he always does when he meets Facade. But it was almost impossible for Facade to slip by.
He was a ranking spy of the 'Eigengrau Society' for a reason.
"I know it already. Thanks for the reminder." Half yawning—he forcibly continued the conversation.
"Oh right, they say you can't see. Is that even real!? You know, I'm curious… how you do your business doesn't give a single hint that you're blind." He snickered in the end.
A spark was ignited by Fiver's taunt. Facade—reluctantly holding his cool—remain undazzled by the mock.
But he no longer cared about formality with his former colleague and shot a response.
"I couldn't walk this large hallway if it wasn't for my eyes."
He hated being questioned about himself—especially about his sight.
Be it his previous colleagues or someone lower than his rank, they all asked him the same thing.
For how he sees things without his eyes was just another sense he had developed.
Facade could feel his surroundings—imagine their faces, the hallway where he was standing, those men he met—everything.
He just felt them all.
"Oh… anyway, the meal is ready there. Mind having one with me?" Facade's reaction forced Fiver to change the subject. "No, thanks. I'm full already."
"Don't kid me! The meal has just been served. Come on!" he persisted, which ultimately rubbed Facade the wrong way.
"I told you, I already had one."
"Rude enough." Fiver—disappointed by not having both the company and the answer—settled his bronze mask. "Well, maybe I'll find someone else. See you later." And without any more arguments, he took his own way to the dining hall.
Facade was glad that Fiver left sooner then he expected.
Being a part of the mansion, he knew for a fact that the Turquoise Society was all about lies. There could be no other Society in the mansion better at handling lies than they were.
And to avoid being full of useless and unauthenticated information, Facade had to interact less with them.
Operation again surrounded his mind—thinking—had Jane, Mike, and Watson infiltrated through the route he had just given them?
Even though he'd given them a way to infiltrate and steal from others—his real plan was quite the opposite.
When the three of them would reach the end of the route, they would eventually encounter some mining men blocking their way—or even worse—be captured by the forces.
And because of who?
It was all thanks to the elite ranking spy—Facade.
Although he knew that Hood checks on every plan before its execution—but as a spy—he got extra access in that field.
Facade had intel about one of the royal families—that the Mundand Family was going to mine a new underground passage within a few days.
But when it comes to rich families—they're not easy to infiltrate.
The royal houses were connected through hidden doors and underground routes which—without any doubt—were heavily guarded.
Even if someone successfully slipped by and made their way inside royal territory, they couldn't hope for a safe return.
In short—the royals followed very strict protocols due to their complicated intersections.
When Facade was once deployed into the rich family as a waiter, he took an underground intersection area—proposed by Hood—to infiltrate their guarded territory.
Amidst his mission, he noticed something strange. The VLF detector in his pocket—a special compatible version given to spies— started beeping all of a sudden.
That was when he realized that the route he thought was just a gutter pass—contained treasure inside.
Facade didn't report it to Mikael. Instead, he stored that critical piece of information as his final card—for his own plans.
As to how his plan should be going, Facade had tricks ready up his sleeve.
He just had to inform the royal head of the house about the route loaded with minerals—which he had done beforehand.
5 days earlier:
Why isn't it going anywhere? These bastards...why should I do dishes for this damned Mundand Family?!
The rage eating Facade from inside—was fair.
Not only did it take more than a day to exchange intel with Hood—he had to spend his days mingling with the royal servants.
This thought made him realize he had taken yet another tiring job.
Four days passed by in a flash—and Facade was successful in making his own ground within the royal walls.
The process took time—and so did the chance to steal the ring of the patriarch.
"Why? Wasn't it enough what we were paying you?" the royal asked—filled with disappointment when he was informed that the recent valet had stolen his beautifully engraved gold ring.
But Facade couldn't care less about the ring. He finally got what he wanted from the start.
The attendance of the patriarch.
"No, no, my majesty. It was enough… really." His strict pose broke into a normal one. Sighing out of tiredness—Facade stretched his sore back. "I just wanted to know if it's more valuable than the minerals."
"Minerals!? What minerals are you talking about?" The royal's concern was instantly triggered by the word 'mineral.'
It wasn't a usual thing to hear. Minerals—considered as a property—meant money worth living two lives.
No one in their right mind would lose this opportunity for a mere gold ring.
As Facade was on his knees, he—with a sudden jerk—dashed to whisper in the patriarch's ear before the guards could take action.
"The minerals. I wanted to tell you directly but—" he sighed again, "I wouldn't have met you if I hadn't done all this crap."
The man's face went pale—almost frozen from shock—so Facade decided to go easy on him.
The patriarch wasn't bothered by his false entry—rather, he wanted him to spill out the beans about where the minerals were.
However, Facade didn't want to rush things after all he went through. He wanted to enjoy the changing expressions on the patriarch's face—one by one.
"Don't worry. I'll tell you. I just need privacy here." The royal—without second thoughts—waved his hand for the guards to leave immediately. The moment they left, Facade some steps away from the man and gradually removed his hood.
"What's this on your face?" The rich fellow was even more surprised to see his veil.
Another task that bothered Facade in his everyday missions was the black coverage all over his body—except for his dove-grey hair.
Hiding his veiled face—while deducting his gloved hands and covered bottom—was hard from the beginning.
Anyone with proper eyes could identify him easily. For this, Facade came to a solution.
For every confidential person he met throughout his impossible tasks—he says only one thing:
"My face was burned in a lab accident. If you want me to roam around without my mask, I'll gladly remove it."
He introduced his attached veil as his 'mask'. Still, if someone forced him to show what's beneath his extra garments—Facade would eventually redirect to offense.
"This is my cursed mask." He told him the truth—as his work there was almost done.
"Call me Facade. I'm here to tell you that there'll be infiltration in two days. And about the minerals, it's in the secret route you've built recently."
"It's there!?? And... how do you know about the… bakery?" His movements became sluggish—as though his future plans had been exposed.
In Facade's opinion—that was another reason the royal hadn't called for reinforcements or had others barge in to outnumber him.
"Just listen, don't ask. Embed trackers in that route and make sure…" he flicked his finger in a circle, "…the screws are tight."
"What?"
"You don't know what screws are?"
"No, I—It's just… never mind that."
The patriarch didn't understand Facade's mixed thoughts, so he decided to agree with whatever was thrown at him.
"This infiltration will be held by three people. Affix the IR trackers in the first half of the passage so that if it senses anyone nearby, you get reported and can instantly send the mining team to work."
"What? What are you trying to say? And, why are you telling me all this? How do you know about the bakery?" he asked breathlessly, waiting for Facade to answer his queries.
"Wh—Who are you?" The patriarch was confused by things that made no sense to him.
Why would he embed IR trackers, and for who? Was somebody coming for him? He didn't know anything.
Facade noticed patriarch's bejeweled hand going gently under his lavish gown, surely reaching for his hidden dagger.
"You're taking my time, huh?" Facade's eyes were fixed on the crawling hand—unwilling to stop it by force.
"I'll let you know one thing. The dagger won't do much—well, actually—nothing to me." The patriarch's hand instantly tensed up—unable to move any further.
"But this—" Facade finally tossed a card out of his cargo pocket. "This will finish you off. Really."
There was a minute of silence, which Facade granted him to figure out his current position.
Like a fly in a spider's web.
"The forces? What do you mean—"
"You're dead if you ask me more." Facade abruptly interrupted—his legs began functioning on their own and he found himself circling around him.
He wanted to make sure the fish was tangled in the net—and the crinkles on the royal's forehead were clear proof of it.
"I—I'll do anything. But please…" Facade was now facing the luxurious back of his gown—heavily embroidered with gold and silvers—when the patriarch gradually kneeled on the polished marble.
"Please, don't do this to me."
That wasn't a surprise for Facade. Instead, he had expected the royal patriarch to beg in return for not letting the forces know about his dark business—for about months.
He had always doubted how a lowly peasant like him reached the ranks of royalty, but it would be foolish to think the person before him obtained fame and fortune legally.
"That's more like it. And… don't make legal papers for mining that area, you got it?" There was nothing for the patriarch but to nod in agreement.
And that was how the patriarch's golden life which he built in years—was destroyed in just a few days.
Present:
Nothing is as good as double-crossing!
Facade was overjoyed—recalling the destruction he had caused just a few days before. He could hardly contain his excitement—the closer the day of his success got, the more he craved to see the hanging faces.
Jane and the other two are supposed to infiltrate the royal house, but if they encounter a mining team blocking their way, they'll get backfired and would probably rush to find another exit route, which is, of course, the bakery.
Facade was sure that the passage with minerals—which he found by mistake—would be an intersected way to the bakery.
He planned the situation—keeping in mind the layout of different routes as well as the policies of the mansion.
The community has its own set of rules. Once a team is deployed on a mission, they can't return from the same entrance. So, it wasn't an exception for Facade to think that his three baits would be choosing the same passage to run for their lives—not other than 'bakery'.
That is where he was meant to meet them. But before he does that, he wanted a place visited.
The car that he was assigned to—according to Facade—wasn't his type. It was old, rusty, and box-like. He never tried to imagine what its color was. Green, or black, or bright yellow? He didn't know.
He wouldn't bother to either.
Facade had reached his second-to-last destination—the report headquarters—where people report their issues. Be it as small as a threat or as big as a murder—their reaction time was the only thing that Facade liked about them.
He came here often—a fake identity ready in his pocket.
Actually, it was somebody else's who had died a long time ago but nobody knows about it.
Not the forces.
Not the headquarters.
Not even Hood.
Because they all said their last farewells—in the hands of Facade.
"Welcome, Abrar. Anything that bothered you?" one of the seated officers grinned when he reached his staff.
He goes by the name 'Abrar' in the report headquarters. This wasn't the same for others, though.
"I want to report something," he replied—roughly—imitating the real one. "Well, people come here to do so. What's the matter?"
"A mine. It's been mined without having legal papers."
"Well, that's interesting." The officer sipped his cappuccino. "How did you know about the mine…and the mining?" His hand scribbled something on paper and again, he looked up to Facade.
"I don't need eyes to see that."
Facade knew that the man sitting before him could never do things in one go. From what he remembers, every time he meets him—he had to deliver a warning threat in advance.
Who on earth hired him as an acting officer? They must be blind. He inwardly complimented the man behind the scene.
"I'm an officer, you know. It's my duty to inquire." He flung his head right to left—making sure no one was watching them. "Even if it's my old benefactor."
"I'm glad you remember that part." Facade taunted his bad memory. The officer was about to take a second sip when Facade—abruptly—stopped the officer's moving arm.
The staff to his right—as the officer feared—became surprisingly attentive.
"I. Want. To. File. A. Report. Officer Robert." Facade forced a smile and hoped that Robert got the meaning out of what he was doing.
Mister Robert sure is a slow processor. Really, I'm threatening you, you know?
"Man… you leave me no choice, do you? You know how hard it is to make up an excuse?" Jerking Facade's hand, Robert finally got the point.
"You survived long doing that, don't you think?" Facade let out a sigh of relief.
He thought it was going to take too long.
"Is anything the matter?" the previously attentive staff member spoke out his curiosity. "Nothing, just speaking the reality," Robert blurted in response.
"O…kay?" The man—concerned about both of them—started typing again.
Robert tilted his face to Facade just to force a smile. "Guess that's true." He breathed in. "Anyway, where is that mine?"
"I heard about it. Don't know the exact location but I know that it's around the abandoned bakery 973."
"Man…that would be a drag to find. Once we have our reports, we'll know who's breaking the law. Rest assured."
"I suggest that you scatter a team around that area. I believe the higher department is responsible for sending their forces to check those matters. You just report a file. And make it clear." Facade—giving him a hint of responsibility—said in a single breath.
"Well, you know much about our system. Good, I'll recommend the strategy," Robert replied calmly while Facade swirled back—making his way back to the car.
"You can say thanks for reporting, you know?" Robert taunted from behind when Facade just took a step further.
"I'll thank you when I feel like I have to." Saying that, Facade exited the headquarters. He could hear him say "Rude enough…" but he ignored him and went to pick up those who were waiting for his arrival.
He just had to make sure the Forces arrive before the three men—the very ones whom he calls the 'gutter rats'—make their way inside his car.
Facade's purpose to embed the trackers at the starting of the bakery was just to be quickly detected by the hands of Forces.
And when he said "…the screws are tight." he straightly wanted the patriarch to fix the IR trackers with screws rather than to hide them on the ground.
Even though the minerals the police wanted wouldn't be directly underground the bakery—the screws on the trackers would become his minerals—helping him to get the 'gutter rats' caught red-handed.
And for the real minerals, the forces will progressively find it later.