Lowlam was a mess. What had once been a nice little town for travelers and residents alike was now mostly stony rubble, sand, and broken glass. Rontu wore a frown on his face the entire time, his eyes flicking from the road in front of him to the camera panel that showed the other three directions of the Gemmer. He could feel the twisting pain in his stomach growing sharper with every empty street he passed. No signs. No people. Not even Honno, which led him to believe that perhaps Shen was upholding his end of the bargain.

Archie had kept quiet mostly, his initial grumbling quickly shut down by a stern look from Rontu the moment they took off. It wasn’t that he was against saving others, it was just that he was far more interested in saving himself by now. The streets were empty when he and Shen made a run for it and they seemed even emptier now that Shen was diverting the Honno away from them. He had found himself slumped in Rontu’s desk chair, observing a sample that was pinched in a small vise.

“Anyone yet?” He asked, looking over his shoulder towards the cab.

Rontu silently shook his head, not taking his eyes from the road.

The clock was running down and the pair hadn’t even made it to the Institute. Rontu’s brow creased, eyes trying their best to discern anything among the ransacked ruins of the city. An arm, a leg, even a lurking Honno might be a good sign at this point. Something to bring light to the fact that people were around.

He rounded the last corner, his view of the Institute finally unobscured by the surrounding buildings. Rontu took another ragged breath, his nervousness causing his fingers to twitch against the steering wheel as he drew closer. The outside of the old building seemed empty, not a peep from the surrounding area. The sandy lot in front of it was in disarray, the black sands being thrown about by the desert wind and panicking civilians. A few stray sets of footprints led to the stairway, as if they had hastily sought shelter.

Rontu parked the Gemmer a few feet from the entryway, making sure the journey from the Institute to the vehicle would be as short as possible. With a quick grunt, he stood up and began stepping through the cab past Archie. As he made his way to the side door, his bag lightly tapped the other man on the shoulder.

“Rontu,” Archie called without looking over his shoulder or spinning around in the chair.

The younger man paused, hand on the handle of the door.

“You’ve got six minutes,” Archie reminded. “After that, if you aren’t back I’m meeting that Shutok at the south gate. Got it?”

Rontu gripped the handle in his hand, exhaling sharply. “Yeah...yeah, I get it.”

With that he hopped from the top step, immediately taking off in a sprint up the stairs of the Institute. He grabbed onto the handles of the entrance and gave a hard tug, the heavy iron doors budging only a few millimeters before sticking. Rontu sighed out in relief. If the doors were locked, that meant it was likely people were holed up inside. Lucky for him, Rontu’s chosen profession had granted him his own key for unrestricted access. He fumbled in his back pocket for a moment, pulling out the magnetic keycard and pressing it to the reader off to the side. It gave an affirmative beep, the light flashing green for a brief moment. Rontu pulled the handle once more, feeling no resistance this time as he let himself inside. Behind him, he slowly pulled the door closed, automatic pistons resisting him as he covered his tracks.

The Institute had never seemed like a very scary place. The tall ceiling stretched from one end of the building to the other without interruption, only slightly broken up by the partial walls that divided each room. This allowed the fluorescent lights to shine upon multiple spaces, but it seemed like the attack had knocked out the power across Lowlam. Orange light shone through the high windows, casting a dusky hue across the entire building.

The entrance to the Institute was a wide hallway, several displays filled with various findings from the Glassway dotting the walls. Rontu even had one of his own displays here, though the brightest and most interesting things he had found went to his personal collection. Slowly he walked past the exhibits, gaze falling to the circular front desk that the receptionist usually sat at. Two walls extended on either side of it, one sitting open and wide and leading to the museum side of the building. The other housed a locked door that led to the labs. Rontu’s footsteps echoed through the open lobby, eerie claps bouncing from the stone arches and walls.

“Don’t move.”

Rontu froze mid-step, slowly lowering his foot to the ground as he turned his head to look where the voice had come from. A younger girl was watching him from behind the museum doorway, a fearful look in her eyes as she sized him up.

A strange sense of relief washed over Rontu as he noticed her. So there were people here. He was right after all. He slowly held up his hands, showing off his gloved palms before slowly making his way towards her. “It’s okay. I’m cool. No Honno here,” he calmly explained, pausing his advance as she flinched.

“Are they still out there?” she asked, stepping out further but still clutching the archway. She couldn’t have been older than fourteen, far too young to be stuck in this situation Rontu felt. Her body trembled as she waited for his answer.

“Yeah. Kinda,” Rontu replied, pausing to give a subtle grin. “Don’t worry, we have a Shutok diverting them.”

“Shutok?!” came an older male voice, a very irritated expression written on his wrinkled face as he walked into the lobby, shoving past the young girl. “Well if that Shutok was doing his damn job right then we wouldn’t be holed up in here!”

Rontu optimism turned into a grimace, his expression sour for a moment. Great, one of these people. He didn’t look forward to someone like this crammed into his Gemmer, but he had vowed to save as many people as he could. Even crotchety old men.

“Well, he’s doing his best. So am I. How many people are here?” Rontu asked the pair.

The girl opened her mouth to speak, but the rude man cut her off. He crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his foot impatiently. “Six, including me and her. Three in the back room.”

Rontu nodded, noticing a few new faces standing by in the doorway. Two young men, and an old woman who looked like she would sooner die from heart failure than a Honno. Rontu did a quick headcount, rapidly pointing with his finger as he counted five.

“Where’s the sixth?”

The old woman held up her hand quietly as if asking for permission to speak. She was short and frail, but the way she moved commanded attention. Someone well experienced in life. “My husband is very sick. He’s asleep in his wheelchair in the museum.”

The irritable man raised an eyebrow, rolling his eyes. “And I assume you have some sort of plan, Mr. Hero? Gonna save us all?”

Rontu scowled, already sick of this guy’s attitude. “Yeah, yeah right I am,” he spat back. “I have a vehicle. Big enough for all of us and more,” he emphasized, spreading his arms wide before letting them fall back to his sides. “Drop the snark though,” he nodded, giving a toothy smirk.

The man grumbled, raising his hand as if to argue before the Institute began to shudder violently. The group frantically turned their heads towards the rear of the building as it groaned loudly, dust suddenly exploding out from the gap between the walls and ceiling and into the lobby. The old woman was knocked from her feet, crying out as her ankle twisted. Rontu shielded his face with his arm, the force of the explosion too strong for him to run headlong into it to assist her.

Slowly the dust began to fall, only the sound of scattering pebbles and confused groans being heard as the group tried to gather their bearings. Inside Rontu’s head, he knew that it was time to leave, but he could barely recall the words to say it. Despite his bravado earlier, he was frozen in place as he stared at the shattered wall. His eyes were wide, body trembling and shaking in his boots at the sight.

One of the young men of the group was suspended in the air, writhing in pain as his feet kicked and he gasped for air. Rontu couldn’t avert his eyes as two gigantic fingers began to crush his torso, the sounds of cracking ribs and painful screams echoed through the Institute.

The hand slowly pulled itself back into the darkened hole it had created, taking the man into the shadows. One last cry for help was cut short, quickly replaced by a low and rumbling growl.

His heart pounded in his ears, Rontu finally finding the strength to make eye contact. Not with anyone else still alive in the room, but with the shimmering pupil that peered back from the darkened room.