Soul Digger-Chapter 45 - 45: Loose ends

"In the eye's of our people, Cole is viewed as what he's not." The Mayor grumbled beneath the starry veil of night.
Meanwhile....
Cole was floating in the clouds, mentally. As usual, he tried to get a wink of sleep, but the day's events replayed constantly in his head.
'Was there a better way to convince her?' he wondered, gazing at the alignment of the shining stars.
Being robbed of sleep was gradually becoming the norm for Cole. Though he didn't like it, his body was beginning to react negatively to the new situations. Back in his mercenary days, he would receive various missions that required several nights of observation.
But then, the act of staying awake to accomplish a goal and being sleep-deprived from worry or anxiety were two very different concepts.
Out of boredom, Cole forced himself up and stood by the edge of the building, surveying the city with his eyes.
The street lamps spanning from roof to roof created a dazzling spectacle. Cole almost found it difficult to believe this was the same rural, uneventful city he knew. His attention was stolen by the view as he stared with a parted mouth and sparkling eyes.
Little by little, he could feel his stormy emotions receding until they barely bothered him; each time the chilling breeze brushed his skin, he gained more and more relief.
'I prefer this place over Leon.' Cole stroked his chin as he gazed out.
A shimmering light caught his eye; though brief, it drew his focus toward the source. The distance was at least a couple of miles, so Cole couldn't get a proper view.
"Probably a trap," Cole muttered.
He didn't have any reason to investigate since it didn't involve him; however, if submitting to his momentary laziness came back to bite him, he'd probably have to work twice as hard—or so he convinced himself.
'Might as well use this to clear my head.' Cole smoothed his hair back as he made his decision.
By simply pressing his feet against the ground, Cole gathered enough force to launch himself several meters above the building. Like a coiled spring, Cole seamlessly hopped from rooftop to rooftop, his clothes and hair barely capable of withstanding the wind's force.
At the Rose District, where the majority of the worn-down houses existed, Cole found himself leaping through broken roofs, shattered objects, and sharp glass fragments.
The light which had called to him died off, yet Cole's memory was as fresh as a newborn's. He could still locate the source's position despite his short glimpses of the flash.
In the end, Cole entered an abandoned building through its broken window frame and stopped. From destroyed furniture and objects to torn fabric and worn-out materials, the interior was a pigsty.
"Did a war happen here, or was there some lovers' spat?" Cole raised a brow as he looked around.
He picked up some of the glass and skimmed through them, then went to the broken furniture and chinaware with a focused expression and calculating eyes. As he walked to the kitchen, Cole noticed splatters of blood painting the wooden floors.
He stooped and examined the texture and colour with his fingers, after which he brushed through the room with his gaze.
Cole scoffed as he stretched a tense frown with taut, furrowed brows. "This happened less than five minutes ago," Cole conjectured.
The words left a dry, plastic feeling at the tip of his tongue.
Driven by instinct, Cole stood straight, darting around the room with his eyes until they landed on an open window.
Like a fired bullet, Cole passed through the opening without a single thought of caution. He dropped by a smaller duplex with worn-out paint and a shabby structure.
Taking a good look at the region of the Rose District he was in, Cole noticed the area was most likely uninhabited. He didn't get that elastic, heated feeling from the air that he usually felt whenever a place distorted; possibly the area was vacant for natural causes.
CRASH!
Cole turned in the direction of the loud sound. To his left, two people seemed to be struggling beneath the cloak of a dark street. Creeping to the edge, Cole kept his presence under wraps.
Like a shadow, he merged with the darkness; even the howling breeze couldn't reveal his location.
'A woman abducting a man? Well, that's a pleasant surprise.' Cole pulled a short smirk.
Cole decided not to intervene; if it were a lovers' spat, he didn't have any reason to be involved. Just in case, he spectated from the sidelines, ready if things got too violent.
The woman pressed her thumb against the man's neck, paralyzing him in the process. Now immobile, the woman dragged his motionless body like luggage.
Cole's lips curled back in surprise, his eyes narrowing in bewilderment. The night made her features indiscernible aside from the bowl cut and large bust which stood out.
Stealthily, Cole tailed the woman in her tracks all the way to an isolated baking factory.
Cole looked at the ominous structure with a composed face.
The entire setting oozed "Trap," but Cole didn't mind; if the ploy was to ambush him, neutralizing them before they struck again would be profitable. And if not, Cole had no problems acting as a love counselor; he needed something to distract himself anyway.
He'd benefit in the end regardless of the outcome.
Cole watched the woman enter. For ten minutes, he patiently waited for them to come outside. The abnormal quiet suggested he was being baited. Even then, Cole waited longer.
Once an hour passed, nothing happened; the factory and the supposed couple hadn't done anything in the slightest since they arrived. Cole readied himself for an ambush, his senses sharpening as he cracked his knuckles.
'This might just be entertaining.' Cole stretched a menacing smile.
Revealing himself from where he hid, Cole tucked his hands in his pockets and walked into the factory. Reaching the entrance, Cole pushed open the door in an unperturbed manner.
As the moonlight from outside sliced through the darkness dwelling within the factory, Cole's jaw was left hanging by what he saw.
Before him, the dark-haired man had sustained multiple cut wounds, broken fingers and feet, and bruises throughout the majority of his body as he was bound by chains near corpses.
The man's eyes twitched reflexively, his jaw too busted to conjure up words, as his remaining teeth were countable on one hand. From the looks of it, he was at death's door.
Cautiously, Cole strode towards him, his expression hanging between pity and curiosity.
"Today seems to be my lucky day." A proud feminine voice echoed through the dark room. "I wasn't expecting to catch such big prey."
'Who'd have thought that anonymous info was accurate. He really was on the roof."
Cole didn't flinch. 'What kind of amateur announces themselves like this?'
From behind, the woman joined her fingers and thrust it towards Cole's neck mid-air. Nonchalantly, Cole tilted to the side, effectively dodging her attack.
Acrobatically, she spun in the air and fired a surprise kick. To Cole, it felt like three minutes went by before she attacked; her movements were sluggish. All he did was step back, and he dodged.
"Wow, you really DO live up to the hype," she complimented.
Cole was taken aback. "Who the hell are you?"
"I am Launda Evazabeth."
"Sounds like a mouthful," he blurted. "What do you want?"
"Well..." She pressed her cheek with her thumb.
'She's going to reveal her plans through exposition now,' he thought with hints of disappointment.
"My job was to find out more about you from the people of this shitty place. I never thought I'd see the nefarious Cole Raden himself," she explained with confident movements. "Of course, the people of this dump were unconventionally loyal."
She hugged herself. "No matter how much I tortured and kidnapped and tortured, they didn't expose anything about you." She rolled her eyes to the side. "Like they revere you as some sort of deity or something."
'Amateur!' He grimaced with tightened lips. 'Ah well... I used to do the same back then.'
"Interesting."
"That expression was heinous!" she shrieked. "Anyways, now that you're here, I might as well tie the noose."
Launda stretched her hand. "JOIN the Plotters Smoke Faction."
"That name... is ridiculously stupid."
"Perhaps. Still, I recommend you come with me quietly."
'He might be out of my league.'
Cole took a step forward. As his feet touched the ground, he was already beside her; with a simplistic swipe, he struck the corner of her neck. Her body slumped without any resistance.
"Thanks for telling me all that." He passed her like used waste. "But I'm not interested in joining your group of weirdos."
Using his hands, Cole snapped the chain with minimal effort, catching the man's corpse-like body in his hand. He then looked back at the woman with pitiful eyes.
"Don't mistake my actions for kindness. I'm more than willing to kill a woman; quite honestly, I've killed plenty in my day," he narrated with little strain. "Regardless, I decided to keep you alive. Because I won't be the one to kill you." He grinned.
"You'll be immobile until tomorrow afternoon. The people of Sant Flores will decide your fate by then. After all, they have the right to."
Launda couldn't react nor speak, nor could she control a single nerve in her body; her state was similar to that of a mannequin.
The man uttered in a dry, groaning tone, "Thank you, my lord."
"Huh?"
"You came to save me! Thank you, my lord!"
"What are you saying?"
"Thank you, my lord! You truly are kind," the man praised with his draining life.
Cole's heart squeezed tightly within his chest; he felt a rush of disturbing feelings flowing through his body. He lifted the man, carrying him out the door out of self inflicted obligation.
"Thank you, my lord," he muttered repeatedly.
Cole turned to the human carpet, "Till tomorrow, Launda of the Plotters Smoke Faction," he uttered with a creepy voice as he shut the door.