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Now that Babara had gotten some information, she was hooked. There was no stopping her despite the fact that the governor\'s residence had come up in her research. More than anyone, Babara was aware of just how tight security was as the governor\'s castle. No one was allowed to enter this upscale castle without the governor\'s permission. If the rest of Victoria City was situated in a valley, then the governor\'s side was elevated on a kind of hill, as if overlooking the rest of town. Getting up there would be the definition of a real herculean task.

There was no watering it down- the governor\'s mansion was a fortified place. But Babara wasn\'t daunted by the glaring impossibility. If anything, she actually welcomed it as a challenge. She didn\'t expect it to be easy. But, she knew that at the end of the day, this task would be done. It had to be done. So, she dedicated the next few days to surveillance. Hidden in plain sight, Babara dutifully kept watch on the mansion. She took notice of every single arrival and departure. She kept a strict log of the times and individuals involved.

This was no easy task. Her day job at city hall required her to be at her best. As she balanced her day job with her night job, she didn\'t allow the strain to get to her. She could go days on end with just one or two hours of sleep. Her entire being was invested in this endeavor. She saw nothing else. As Babara carried out her surveillance during her free time in the day, she often had to put on various disguises. This would have invoked some sort of excitement in any detective, but Babara was way too methodical to take pleasure in that.

Eventually, after several sleepless nights and long days, Babara finally collected all the data she needed. Data collation was one thing, data interpretation was another business entirely. Fortunately, Babara was efficient at both. This was what had done for basically the whole of her career. This was where she thrived the most. This time, she was more driven than before since it concerned her personally.

Siting alone in the second room of her government allocated flat in the city, Babara spread out all her jottings on a table and began to review them extensively. She poured over every single individual that came and left. She noted those who frequented the mansion daily, as well as those who visited sparingly. She juxtaposed this with the public information about the governor\'s household (for the governor had a lot of servants on payroll, therefore this information was logged in the office at city hall\'s accounting department). After putting her own findings side by side with the public record, she soon began to see a much vivid picture.

Babara discovered that a lot of the governor\'s servants actually lived on the premises. There seemed to be a servant\'s quarters located in Quincy Castle. She knew that it was a brilliant move. This way, Quaid could reduce the traffic of numerous people going and leaving wantonly. Thereby reducing the risk of an invader who might want to take advantage of this free flow. It was very astute. Also, it allowed the governor to keep tabs on the people that worked for him. Everything they needed was on ground. They grew their own food. They had multiple sources of water.

Quaid had brilliantly limited their social lives to the walls of his castle. Everyone knew everyone. Any stranger on ground would be easily detected. Babara eas under no illusion that all of this was a coincidence. It was all calculated, it was all deliberate.The arrangement was foolproof. Babara could see that as she came to the conclusion that the actual number of people residing on the mansion\'s grounds was way more than the people who came in and went out on a daily basis. Inadvertently, this meant that it was very possible that her sister was trapped inside.

Then veins on Babara\'s forehead began to bulge as her heartbeat rose frantically. After an awfully long while, she was finally one step closer to finding her sister. It all seemed so surreal. It was really impressive how far she had come. From just a single accidental sighting at the brothel, with little resources and time, she had been able to brave against all odds and actually managed to triangulate her sister\'s location.

Babara took a deep breath and reclined in her seat. She couldn\'t afford to rejoice yet. As she looked at the piles of collated data spread out on her table, she knew she had her work cut out for her. This was only the first step. Babara glazed over the schematics of the governor\'s house, she knew she had to break in.

This wasn\'t just a reconnaissance mission- it was an infiltrate and rescue mission. She had to come up with a foolproof plan that would guarantee her smooth entrance, and most importantly, a perfect exit strategy for not just her, but her sister as well. There was no point of entering if they couldn\'t make it out alive.

Babara began to brainstorm. Just because she was a genius in data collation and administrative affairs didn\'t mean that she could simply breeze in and breeze out. It wasn\'t a sure ticket. It sure as hell was a guarantee for success. She had to put in the work this time- physically, intellectually and psychologically.

She spent the night (and the many nights that followed) running simulations in her head. This was impossible. For one, she had never been inside the walls of the governor\'s mansion. All she had was a very fuzzy blueprint of the governor\'s mansion. She had no idea what to expect on the inside. There were so many unknowns. There was too much she was leaving to chance. There was also the fact that she didn\'t know exactly where her sister was being held. It was all so overwhelming.

The next few weeks were torture for the young government official. Babara did her best, but each time, she came up against a blank wall. The impregnable fortress of the governor\'s mansion came alive in Babara\'s subconscious. It plagued the walls of her nightmare, taunting her like a malevolent entity, dwarfing her with the glaring fact that she could never ever overcome it. In her nightmares, she saw the image of her sister trapped in iron bars, screaming, yelling at Babara to come save her.

She hardly got any sleep at night. And even when she did, she was haunted and hounded by her failure to rescue her sister from her tumultuous existence. Babara would often awake with a violent jolt. Realizjg that it had been a nightmare, she would be freshly reminded of her sister, and then, the cycle of torment would start afresh all over again. Unable to bear the pain, Babara resorted to drinking. Each and every night, she would gulp down wholesome quantities of alcohol.

But that didn\'t stop the nightmares. It dulled the pain only for a brief while, and then came back stronger and meaner.

It was worse for her because she was alone in every way. She had no one to speak to about her suffocating grief. She had no one lean on, no one to be strong for her. With each day, she stumbled deeperer and deeper into the dark tunnel of depression and self loathing. She was now a shadow of herself. She didn\'t tell anyone. She couldn\'t. In this world, pain and grief were the constant companions of those who had been unfortunate enough to be born as peasants. For the oppressed class, it was the default state of mind all day, and every day. Everyone had their own baggage. No one was expected to drop theirs and carry hers.

Babara work suffered a result of this mental slackness. Even worse, he work colleagues (who were predominantly males) didn\'t care enough to notice. Actually, it wasn\'t as if they didn\'t care, it was more of the fact that they didn\'t even see her at all. She might have as well been a piece of furniture or a pet that never changed in their eyes. While Babara suffered in silence, the world around her ignored her coldly.

Needless to say that as Babara suffered, fate prepared a way out for her. It took a while but finally, she was able to rise up from the flood of grief that was drowning her, and she was able to a faint light of hope in the distance. Fate always seemed to have a way of creating a way out, linking destinies and intertwining the paths of unlikely individuals. Nothing was written the stars yet, however, in this case, Babara\'s salvation seemed like it was going to come from Xzavier.

It all started on a regular evening. It was weekend and it was actually a pretty blissful evening, but for Babara it was simply another bleak day in her miserable existence. Gliding through the city\'s streets like a ghost, Babara silently made her way back to her apartment. She had gone out to pick up a few supplies (ninety percent of the content in her grocery bag was alcohol) and was preparing for another lonely evening.

Normally, Babara would zone out every other noise in the background and focus solely on her own internal monologue, but as she picked up on a little chatter on the roadside, she was able to make out one name- Xzavier! Babara was instantly interested. For a moment, she was able to set aside her own sorrows and tuned her ears to listen in on the gossip. She purposely slowed down her steps and tried her best to eavesdrop on the conversation.

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