The rain poured down without pause from a leaden gray sky, as if the world itself shared the mourning of a solitary man. Every drop that struck the umbrella he wasn't holding was a crude reminder of his vulnerability, of the cold that had settled deep within his bones. Standing motionless before a fresh headstone was a young man. His slender build did not hide the iron-like firmness of his shoulders; he was tall, with a presence that in other circumstances would have commanded attention. Today, he only emanated an overwhelming emptiness.
His clothes, dark and heavy with moisture, clung to his body like a second skin. An icy, capricious wind lightly ruffled his hair—a deep blend of brown and black that fell a bit lower than usual, barely covering the nape of his neck. His eyes, once gray like the morning mist, were now hollow; his pupils had shifted into an opaque black that refused to reflect the light. He was broken, carrying a gaze that screamed into the abyss.
Time passed. It passed and passed, but the void never filled. Auren visited the grave constantly, even though not even twenty-four hours had gone by since the tragedy. He couldn't tear himself away; it was as if he were carrying the weight of all the world's guilt upon his back.
— We can talk now —spoke a familiar voice behind him.
It was a man with a shock of red hair and a vibrant, though now subdued, presence. Axel, his former comrade, stood there.
— What are you doing here? —Auren asked without turning—. Shouldn't you be on a mission?
— Not at all. It seems you haven't even checked the weather —Axel replied gravely—. Everyone—including me, Celia, and Lucan—everyone has been affected. High-ranking officials, world leaders, and people of renown were disturbed by a midnight visit from several mercenaries. Most of us managed to survive, though it's true that many presidents have been assassinated. Lucan is safe, but we're all on high alert.
Axel took a step closer, his voice softening but remaining firm.
— I know you're carrying this pain. But I also know you don't leave things unfinished—especially when it comes to her.
— I feel like I never truly made the most of my time with her —Auren whispered—. I never really enjoyed it. I feel like I lost her too fast. I don't even know how to express it... I had a daughter, damn it. And now I'll never see her.
— I'm here for that too —Axel said—. Those bastards who killed Lilian need to be punished. And you... you're literally the best man in the army right now. If you want to make those bastards pay, I need your help. At least to solve this mess that this godforsaken loss has brought us.
Auren remained silent, letting the rain wash away the traces of his tears.
— Call me if you need me to lead you to the truth —Axel added—. Tomorrow there will be a meeting at Vintage Plaza. I expect you to be there. There will be high-level representatives from the United States and England. The team doesn't feel steady without you, Auren. Without you, it'll be damn near impossible to stand against this enemy. This is likely the most fucked up step we've ever taken—even more than Rover Stone. But anyway... I'll see you around.
The redhead rode off on his motorcycle, leaving the roar of the engine behind. Auren stayed there a while longer, arms akimbo, letting the raindrops pelt his skin.
Eventually, he returned home. The atmosphere was stifling. Not a single bloodstain remained, but simply being there felt like an eternal knot in his throat; the very air made him want to retch from the trauma. Unable to bear the walls of his own home, he called for a car and headed to the city center to seek refuge in a high-security hotel.
Upon arrival, he was greeted with respect by one of the clerks. Everyone knew who he was; the specialized team of Axel, Celia, Auren, and Nadia were the country's wild card. He was escorted to one of the finest suites where, after two hours of trying, exhaustion finally won over his vigil.
The next morning, Auren picked up the phone and called Axel.
— I'm going. But I'm not doing it because it's what she would have wanted... I don't even know if she'd want this. I'm doing it for the goddamn rage I'm feeling. Don't ask me to control myself. You already know that, technically, I'm the most skilled with weapons and the best strategist, but above all, I am stubborn to a fault. So... what do you say?
There was a silence on the other end before Axel answered.
— Of course, man. Obviously, you're more than welcome back. We'll wait for you at Vintage Plaza at 3:00 PM.
Auren hung up. He left the hotel and got into the rental car. He felt a massive void inside, but it wasn't just for the loss of Lilian—it was the cold expectation of an execution. He had a lifetime of accumulated rage against an enemy that never knew the value of loss. Auren had never lost a teammate until now, and the result was a man with nothing left to lose.