Raven's Will

25. It's a Dead End

Once again, Yvan waited in the hallway of the Troit headquarters in Mianka. He was alone this time. No soldiers wandered through the halls; they had either been scolded by their superiors or they had been creeped out by Syk. Regardless, none of them showed their faces.

Yvan was slightly disappointed. He would have welcomed any kind of distraction at this point. The interrogation seemed to take even longer than the first one. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes for what felt like hours.

Then he sighed and started wandering down the hall. At the end, he paused to look down its branching twin. Silent emptiness greeted him. How boring. He turned and meandered back the way he'd come.

Once he'd paced up and down the corridor about a half dozen times, the cell door finally opened. The quiet click of the lock disengaging shattered Yvan's boredom, and he immediately spun towards the sound.

Syk's pale yellow form stepped gracefully through. As before, he took a minute to carefully wipe off his hands then pulled on his gloves. Before he'd even finished, Yvan approached impatiently.

"Well? Did she know anything?"

Smiling, Syk gave Yvan's shoulder a gentle pat. "Of course. Now come, we must be on our way." Without waiting for Yvan's response, Syk strode off.

Yvan hesitated. He glanced at the cell door. The medic flyer hadn't bothered to re-engage to lock. It was like he wasn't even concerned that the girl might try to escape. Yvan frowned. Had Syk actually -?

No. He'd promised not to take things too far, considering she was still a valuable source of information. For a second, Yvan considered poking his head inside just to make sure.

But then he remembered the dark skinned man from Syk's last interrogation. He shuddered inwardly, and decided to leave it be. Better that he didn't dig too deep. Syk was terrifying enough, and anybody with a half a brain would do anything they could to stay on his good side.

Yvan hurried to catch up, taking long, quick strides. "You got the location?"

"Yes," Syk's gaze flickered over to meet his for a brief second. Yvan suddenly got the impression that the other man knew the thoughts that had just run through his mind. "The rebels are preparing to move to another safe house within a few days, so we will need to make haste."

"Got it," Yvan said quickly. He didn't ask any more questions, though more than a few were bumbling about his mind. Even though he stood on equal ground with Syk in ranking, he still felt like a subordinate. Both Syk and Raith were more intellectual than him, but surely they couldn't even compare when it came down to doing the dirty work. Brains can't do much without the brawn, he told himself.

It helped him feel marginally better.

Once they were outside, Syk immediately engaged his helmet. Pale yellow material formed a shell around his head, while a dark faceplate hid his face. It gave a sense of distant coldness to his presence. Fortunately, Yvan didn't have stare at it long, for Syk activated his flight boosters and launched into the sky.

A moment later, Yvan joined him. He took up position slightly behind and to the left of Syk, holding a rather close formation. If he were a trainee, the instructors would no doubt be having a fit. Countless of trainees have injured or killed themselves by tangling their wings with another, just because they thought it cool to see how close they could fly together.

Neither of them were trainees. And they weren't the average flyers either. Both he and Syk were of the Twelve, a position earned by their own hard work and skills. They flew hard and fast, pushing their suit boosters to the max. Despite the soundproofing efforts made upon their suit designs, a faint whine from the boost engines followed in their wake.