Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā The immolation of Cloud Recesses rages as silent as unprecedented destruction always does. He expects a lionās roar that shakes the strata from the heavens āin his ears, beneath his feet, resonating in his bones. But all that rattles him is the beat of a frantic gait that cannot bring him close enough to his fatherās roomsāor fast enough. Flames reach twice as tall as the buildings they consume, licking the nadir of the inky sky. Walls of fire, labyrinthine and prohibitive, bar his path, force him to remember the intricacies of the compound in order to navigate the bright horror of the inferno.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā He guards his mouth, his nose, within the crook of his arm, only slightly mitigating the burn of the smoke through the filter of his sleeve. It singes his eyes, dries them out. He can barely see where his steps take him. But he barrels forward without heed or delay.Ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā His fatherās door is consumed in flames. Thereās no opening it. But a well-placed kick to the burning wooden frame and it disintegrates to pieces, leaving enough room for him to slip through.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā ē¶
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā äŗ²
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā ļ¼
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Thereās no answer. He calls again, his voice stifled by the smoke, the fire that roars as a lion might. His fatherās bed lies at the other end of the room.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Occupied.Ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā And when Lan Zhan reaches out to tear the covers backāā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā The metal door opens rudely, scraping upon the concrete floor like nails on a chalkboard, jarring Lan Zhan from the fitful sleep heās fallen into upon the interrogation table. He looks at the clock above the two way window. Wipes the spot of drool from the corner of his mouth.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā 2:37. Vaguely, Lan Zhan wonders if itās in the early morning of afternoon. One can lose a sense of time in these rooms. Though that seems to be the point. Interrogation room #2. Of course theyād put him in the room thatās colder than sin. At least theyāve fixed the squeak in the door.Ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā The man that takes a seat across the table folds his fingers together as neatly as a nun. But his eyes are kind. Like the softness of a docile cow, but thereās a hint of mischief in them he canāt help but note. Itās augmented by the way his pretty mouth smiles with the boldness of an innocent, who can bear no ill-intent.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Lan Zhan frowns, anyways.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā He feels like an elaborate trap.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āWho are you?ā he asks, in that even, forthright way that inevitably sounds like an accusation. āI know everyone in this precinct. Which makes you a rookie or a transfer. And neither of those options would even be remotely acceptable for this particular case, so.āĀ
