"If you offer me another chip, I will throw you out the window."

  The woman known as Cassey retracted the bag and popped a chip in her mouth. His remark had been uncalled for, aside from their initial encounter, which if anything improved his opinion of her, she had been helpful. She'd concisely laid out all the steps they'd taken along with the specific areas searched. This team was competent and hadn't been idle.

  Rather than put him at ease, it ramped up his frustration. Because they had nothing.

  It was enough to make him want to scour the city himself. After all, he was the reason she was in this mess to begin with. He couldn't claim to know where she'd be if she were never assigned to him, but he doubted it would be in imperial captivity.

  He was kept at bay by the logical argument made. Leave it to the professionals. He tried to ignore that the professionals had accomplished jackshit.

  They were right, though. What was he going to do? Check random buildings? The city was massive.

  "This is the whole needle in a haystack problem," he grumbled to himself.

  "Sorry." The nervous voice of Lennard sounded. "You wanted a needle?"

  Cal looked at the man. He was dressed in a rugged pair of trousers and wore a stained cloth shirt. His dull blue eyes shifted endlessly, going from one thing to another. Like Cal, he had trouble staying still at the moment. The pacing had finally stopped, but the agent kept almost playing with his curly black hair.

  "No, it's an expression," Cal clarified. "It means something is hard to find, like searching for a needle in a haystack. That is, unless you burn it all."

  Cal supposed a strong enough magnet would also work.

  "Let's not do anything hasty." Lennard nearly jumped in his seat. "The captain should be back soon with a report."

  Right, the captain. It was a small world; he'd never expected to run into someone who recognized him. Let alone from that particular trip. He wondered if she kept in touch with Kevin.

  It'd been touch and go with getting him out of there; the man had almost lost his head.

  And for all the work he put in making sure he kept it, he never gave so much as a thank you. Then again, a handshake was probably the most anyone ever got out of the man.

  A smack was heard, and the bag of chips landed on the floor.

  "Cassey!" Lennard gave a frantic whisper. "Stop helping!"

  Cal didn't know why he bothered trying to keep it quiet. Even sans augmentation, he was sitting right here.

  He wondered what the captain had said to the man to make him so skittish. A few things came to mind, but he shooed his thoughts away from them. His mood was already poor; he shouldn't go around worsening it.

  "You can relax a little," Cal said, trying to infuse casualness in his words. "I'm not going to report you for having a relationship with your direct superior."

  Lennard gaped like a fish. Not being able to form any words in response. Cassey, who had been crouching on the floor while cleaning up the fallen snack food, raised her head. Her braid hung to the side, and she spared the other agent a glance before grimacing.

  "Not my type," she stated matter-factly before rising. Cal raised a brow as her hand reached into the bag and removed another chip. He watched in slow motion as she began to extend it toward him. "Are you sur-"

  Her words cut off as Lennard tackled her. There was a struggle that ended with her knee on his back and his arm painfully pulled back.

  "It's-" His voice strained as she pulled it further. "Nothing like that!"

  Huh, no wonder Ryan did this. It was fun.

  "Then what were you doing behind a privacy ward?" Cal asked sharply, causing both of them to freeze.

  They untangled slowly, and Lennard shook himself off.

  "It was classified information." He got out after thinking about it for a moment.

  Cal pulled out the star.

  "What was that about being classified?"

  He was being a bit of a bully here, and truthfully, he didn't care what they did or discussed. People talking about him behind closed doors was something he'd long since grown accustomed to.

  He was simply looking for a distraction to keep his mind from wandering.

  Cal watched Lennard's face twist as an internal war broke out within him. That made him lean more towards there actually being some illicit affair going on.

  He didn't get a chance to see which side won as the door was knocked on in a specific manner; there was a pause, and then it swung open.

  "My team members have reported in." The captain delivered, not giving any indication she was aware of the strange atmosphere she'd walked in on. "They rendezvoused with their contacts and gave out assignments. There's a coordinated sweep currently ongoing throughout districts-"

  She rambled on. Cal didn't let the details distract him from the fact that Olivia remained missing.

  "Don't bullshit me. What are the chances we find her?" Cal interrupted her.

  She mulled his words before shaking her head.

  "That's not how these things work. We can't provide such an estimate."

  He looked out towards the window. It was long past sunset. Would they be able to make any progress tonight?

  Alice must have found his note by now and be going ballistic. It was the least of his worries right now. Good thing he'd left his...

  His hand patted his pocket.

  Crap.

  In his haste, he'd totally forgotten about it. The only reason it hadn't been going nuts was because he'd turned it off for the exam.

  He retrieved it awkwardly. How did one explain carrying this thing to multiple secure locations throughout the day and not appear like an imbecile?

  It proved troublesome, and the captain spoke before he figured it out.

  "Their latest model? May I see it?"

  He held it out, and she grabbed it, turning it and inspecting the build. Her thumb hovered over the power button, and he didn't get a chance to speak out before she pressed down on it.

  The screen flashed on and immediately was locked as messages flooded it. It buzzed unendingly in her hand.

  "Piece of junk, isn't it?" Cassey commented, leaning over her captain's shoulder. Her face was nearer than he thought necessary.

  "Sometimes I think you took this post so HR would be in another country." The captain pushed her away, handing the vibrating device to him.

  "This going to be a problem?" He finally asked.

  "Nah, they're way behind," Cassey said flippantly, ignoring the captain's earlier comment. "Look, that thing barely works."

  "That's not what I meant." Although the OS was currently undergoing a stroke. "Can't they track these?"

  "Psh," she snorted. "You're giving them way too much credit. Isn't that right, captain?"

  The captain's eyes lingered on the device before explaining.

  "CS-003 is correct. To our current knowledge, they cannot track movement. It's your call if you'd like us to take further precautions."

  "It's fine then." If they weren't concerned, he wouldn't be either.

  The screen unlocked itself, letting him see the flood of messages he'd missed. It was lagging quite a bit as it delivered the backlog, but he could see Alice and Lily had both tried their darndest to get into contact with him.

  As the messages flashed by, he realized it wasn't about going MIA or the test he'd skipped.

  "What the fuck?" He spoke, trying to comprehend what he was reading. "You've got to be kidding me."

  All this time thinking that it was some elite imperial division that had grabbed her, and it turned out to be Petro?

  He wasn't even on the list!

  Excluding stupid school politics, Cal had written him off as a threat.

  Captured by a peacock of a noble, he was never going to let Olivia live this down.

  "I know who took her," he stated while going through all the messages. "Petro Lucerna, know anything about him?"

  His question was open to the floor, but the captain took the lead.

  "I'm familiar with the Lucerna family but not him specifically." She turned to her subordinates and spoke in a commanding voice. "CS-003, instruct your contact in the public records office to pull everything on him. LB-120 do your work in the streets and shake up any lead you can on this Petro. I'll contact everyone else and have them on standby to redirect our resources wherever this leads us."

  ""Yes, ma'am,"" they said in unison.

  It would have been nice to have that kind of support earlier. It also wouldn't have been needed if he knew who was responsible.

  "Belay that," he called as they were getting ready to enact their orders.

  He searched through his phone until he found what he was looking for. His fingers deftly typed a message, deleted it, and then rewrote it.

  It was important to get the tone right. He read it over one last time before clicking send.

  Raising his head, he found the trio observing him with some measure of confusion.

  He opted to not say anything, allowing them all to stew in silence until his phone buzzed again.

  It was who he'd been expecting, good. He'd already embarrassed himself enough tonight by wasting their time. He typed a quick confirmation.

  He could have let their plan go through. With their level of diligence? They'd find her, he was sure.

  Being led there directly would be quicker.

  Being led there by the culprit himself? Well, that was even better.

  Cal was almost thankful that the man had been kind enough to remove the hesitation he had been feeling. Rescuing Olivia wasn't his sole objective anymore. He was officially off the fence.

  Petro was a dead man.

  All Cal had to do was help him realize it.

  But first.

  "Do you think these are appropriate clothes to get abducted in?" He asked, much to the befuddlement of the Federation operatives.

  The vacant building he found himself in had seen better days. Probably. Considering the state of disrepair it was in, Cal couldn't tell what it once was.

  That Petro had chosen this particular place for a meeting? Well, he must have thought Cal to be a true idiot. No one came here and thought they were going to have a friendly negotiation.

  A fly buzzed by his face, and he swatted at it. The pooled water in the building served as an excellent breeding ground.

  He looked up, at the night sky peeking through the holes in the ceiling. If he actually thought of it, this was probably a storehouse of some kind; that would explain all the broken crates.

  Cal idly kicked some of the debris on the floor.

  It was past the agreed-upon time, and he was wondering if his prey had gotten wise when a peculiar sound heralded a gust of wind. It blew through the structure's many open holes and swirled once around him before leaving the way it came.

  Cal made no reaction to it, pretending the queerness of that wind went unnoticed. There was a thud as the decrepit door was hit. Another sounded, and it fell off the rusted hinges, landing flat and kicking up dust.

  Two men walked in. Dressed in dark clothes, their eyes scanned the surroundings. They parted and stood at either side of the room, arms held loose at their sides.

  A third entered. Cal couldn't tell much about them; their appearance was obscured by some sort of shroud. It was adorned with ribbon-like threads, which gave it a frayed appearance and blocked the wearer's face.

  It was very edgy. He kinda wanted it.

  "What's the meaning of this?!?" Cal spoke in a shaky voice, taking a step back. "Where is Petro?"

  Mook 1 and Mook 2, as Cal dubbed them, shared a mean-spirited chuckle.

  The shrouded figure didn't join in, tilting its head towards them. The laughter died quickly, and Mook 1 reached behind him, producing a pair of suppression cuffs.

  "I was promised a negotiation on neutral grounds!" Cal insisted, backing up against the wall.

  "Negotiation, ain't that rich." A disgusting smile came on his face, and he was about to resume his laughter when he glanced at the silent figure. "How's this for negotiating? I'm going to walk over there and get these nice and snug on you. Be good, and you get to see that girlie of yours again. Try anything, and the boss there will make sure you get a closed casket. Got it?"

  Cal's fist trembled by his side, and his head swiveled, not being able to decide who to focus on.

  Mook 1 approached with cautious steps, eyeing him like a dangerous animal. He wasn't far off the mark.

  Cal played his part well. His back hit the wall; splinters got caught in the jacket fabric as it rubbed against the rotting wood. He'd borrowed a set of plainer clothes from Lennard.

  He didn't want to go through the trouble of removing blood from his uniform.

  "If I were in your expensive shoes," Mook 2 voiced his opinion. "I'd listen to my friend."

  Mook 1 entered with reach, and Cal let his arm be grabbed. The cuff was slapped on the first and then the second wrist. The man grabbed the chain connecting them and pulled it forward, making Cal stumble onto the ground.

  A boot impacted his side, and he gave a false grunt of pain.

  Putting cuffs on himself was one thing. Having someone else do it? It made his hackles raise.

  But this was his show.

  Cal was in charge here, and that knowledge quelled any harsh reaction on his part.

  The same sound as before rang out—a sharp whistle. The leg that had been ready to deliver another kick stopped, and he was hauled back to his feet. He was led outside, and an older model truck pulled up. The back was opened, and he was shoved roughly inside, falling to the floor. The others filed in, seated on the benches that lined the interior. He made to take one himself, but a hand shoved him back down.

  Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

  The ride was bumpy. Cal couldn't tell if it was because of the road quality being poor or if this thing just had crappy suspension. He kept a mental count, judging they traveled for about half an hour before arriving at wherever their destination was.

  Forced to his feet again, a bag was placed over his head, and he was marched 'blindly' through a series of corridors and staircases.

  The sound of rust scraping together was heard, followed by a door scraping open.

  He was thrown again without ceremony. Landing in a crumpled heap on the ground. He groaned for good measure.

  "Callum!" He felt a pair of hands flip him over, ripping the bag off his face. Light invaded him, and he saw Emily's face over him, tears streaking down her cheeks. "How dare you!" She cried to their captors. The only response was the sound of a metal door slamming shut.

  He took quick stock of his new location. The space was rectangular, being slightly longer than wide. With walls made of stone brick and floors of mud, it wasn't the most comfortable of places. There was a singular entrance, blocked by an iron door. The only nice thing was they had space to spread out, with it being around ten meters in length.

  His mouth was opened, but no words made it out before her fingers sealed it shut. He wished she'd done it to his nose instead; this place reeked something foul.

  "Don't speak. Those fiends may have broken your ribs." She took his cuffed hands with her own and placed them over her chest. "Whatever are we going to do? Feel my heart? It beats so strongly with fear that it may burst from me!"

  Cal shifted uncomfortably, not from being on the damp floor but from this strange position he'd found himself in. Just as he was questioning if he'd found himself in a parallel universe, he noticed it. She was right; her heart was beating strongly. It was also beating irregularly. No, not irregularly. It was beating in a pattern.

  Cal dug into his memory, recalling the field guide he'd spent so much time with.

  'Okay?' he deciphered.

  That was a neat trick? Blinking would be easier. Maybe she was embarrassed after getting caught, and this was a way of showing off.

  He felt her hand shift its grip, and her finger found its way over the pulse in his wrist. Really? There was no way this wasn't overkill.

  In the dimness of the cell, he took in her state. Her hair was matted and clumped together, her eyes sunken with dark circles around them. Her lip was split. The sleeve of her uniform had been ripped, and there was an ugly welt marring her skin.

  Fine, he'll do it her way.

  His own heart started to beat irregularly. It wasn't the first time he'd intentionally changed its beat, so he accomplished it without rupturing it.

  'Status,' she sent after receiving his standard confirmation. Her eyes drifted to his cuffs; they matched those of her own.

  'Ready,' he responded.

  As far as suppression cuffs went, well, that habit of wearing multiple sets wasn't a fashion statement. There were probably better ways of practicing your control than wearing them, but at least they wouldn't slow him down now.

  'Waiting. Target,' he followed up quickly. No doubt she was wondering why he'd not blasted his way out if he could.

  'Identity.'

  'School. Culprit.'

  'Understood.'

  "Sit up." She voiced with a tremble. "This filth will give you a cold at best and a plague at worst."

  "Don't worry about me. They haven't hurt you, have they?" He asked the dumb question; they obviously had.

  "I-I'm fine," she stuttered. She rose and pulled him up. "Over here, the ground is driest."

  She directed him to a slightly less damp area. They both sat there, back to back.

  Cal contemplated whether or not they had to keep the sham of a conversation up when he heard the sound of footsteps echoing across the passageway.

  The door opened, and wind rushed in, beating back the foul air. The shrouded figure stepped in, followed by the man he'd been expecting. Petro must have been in another room waiting for his arrival.

  "I see you're back where you belong, huddled in the dirt with your fellow commoner," Petro said the final word as if it were a slur.

  Cal fought hard to not roll his eyes at the comment.

  "You'll never get away with this!" Emily cried in an indignant voice. "Callum is a noble!"

  "A noble? Hardly. A street rat in a suit will never be more than a well-groomed rat." A cruel laugh reverberated. "I had all the pieces. All you had to do was know your place. I could have forced that woman into marriage and seized house Lucerna's heirship. Reunited both lines under me. I'd have to offer concessions to the others, but the title of Count would be mine!"

  There was an impact as Petro's fist collided with the wall.

  "Now?" He sneered. "It was all nearly ruined!" Another impact. "That bitch somehow gained knowledge she shouldn't have." The wall cracked, and Petro was huffing in exertion. He stopped his tirade for a moment and straightened out, brushing his clothing and putting that fake smile on. "Ancestors blessings, your commoner brain was foolhardy enough to deliver yourself to me." He started pacing, speaking to himself. "It means I can still salvage this. I'll make her see reason. I'll make you both form a covenant." He whirled on the pair, the smile replaced with a snarl. "You better hope she does, because if not reason, it will be your blood she sees."

  Cal was fairly impressed now. That mask the man donned was a far cry from the lunatic he was now acting like.

  "The Justiciars will never let you get away with this!" Emily yelled.

  "Do you believe this my first time?" He stalked over, looming over them. "You know nothing of what I've done to reach my current station."

  "Hmmph." Petro crouched, grabbing Emily by the jaw and turning her face. "I can see why you were so easy to fool." He spoke to Cal. "She'll fetch a nice price abroad."

  He released her, wiping his hand with a handkerchief. "Do say hello to my sister should you encounter one another."

  "Alright," Cal spoke casually, dropping his tense demeanor. "I've heard about eno-"

  "May I?" Olivia interrupted him. He shrugged against her back. "CX-," She stopped herself, thinking for a moment. "I suppose using your proper name would make greater sense. Callum. Green light."

  Cal gave a feral grin while Petro had a perplexed look on his face. The same could not be said for the shrouded figure, and an unseen attack was launched Cal's way.

  Sharp instincts on that one. What a pity.

  His manacled hands moved, and the snapping of metal was soon heard. Cal had used the figure's manifestation to sever the link between both cuffs.

  Briefly, he considered giving the guy a second shot at that, but the thought was discarded.

  Cal blurred and appeared in front of the silent assailant. His hand cut forward, meeting the resistance of a shell for a moment before his fingertips sunk into the warm flesh.

  He gripped the spine, ripping it out and ending a life.

  The corpse fell with a thud and Cal's hand dripped with blood.

  Petro's expression only now shifted from one of confusion to disbelief. He was facing Cal and took a step backward. Turning his back on Olivia proved to be a mistake as she swept his feet and pounced on his prone form, securing a headlock on the man. Cal let her take her time, and his cuffs gave off a grating sound as he tore them apart.

  He flashed his magic to give the agreed-upon signal.

  Petro struggled with futility, succumbing to unconsciousness. Olivia disentangled herself, rising and brushing herself off.

  "Do you mind?" She held her hands out to him, all traces of her previous performance gone.

  He obliged, walked over, and ripped the cuffs off. She rubbed her wrist after he did so.

  "What will you-"

  The room's temperature skyrocketed as a searing flame incinerated Petro where he lay.

  Olivia frowned at the display.

  "That will cause complications." Her words lacked the nagging tone she took when truly upset.

  "He had to go." If he did sleep, Cal wouldn't lose any over this. "How'd you get caught anyway?"

  "It was the letter you sent. I overheard some of the other guards discussing it; they compromised the postal service." She turned her head to the door. "Speaking of, you weren't exactly quiet. I would have expected them to have rushed here by now. There should be eleven others."

  Cal rolled his eyes. That was a fairly gentle rebuke on her part; he supposed she was feeling generous.

  Regardless, he'd not waltzed in here without a plan.

  The door screeched as its rusted form swung open. Olivia tensed as Captain Davis walked in but relaxed upon seeing the salute she provided.

  "All hostiles neutralized. We count nine. I'll have my people track down the stragglers." The captain reported, evidently eavesdropping on them. Her eyes roamed the room, widening upon seeing the corpse.

  Cal followed her look and remembered its existence. He happily walked over, relieving the shroud of its former occupant and wringing it out. The blood splattered as he did so.

  "Callum." And here he thought he might get away without hearing the nagging tone this time. "No."

  "Callum yes." He responded simply.

  Olivia walked over, the frown on her face deepening.

  "Ignoring the sanitariness of it. You cannot take that." She held her palm outstretched. "Hand it over."

  Cal put it to the light, admiring how it seemed to move on its own volition.

  "No chance."

  It would take some rearranging, but he could fit it on another one of his bedposts.

  "This isn't a debate. What do you think will happen if you're caught with the Whistling Death's shroud?"

  "The who what now?"

  She looked at him as if he were an idiot.

  The captain coughed, gaining his attention, and pointed to the spineless corpse.

  "Were they important?" He asked, not recognizing the name.

  "They are, or were on the Federation's most wanted list," Olivia informed. "They were a member of the Blessed Order before being accused of blasphemy and joining Infinita Nox."

  He didn't bother asking what that edgy name meant.

  What he did understand was that the man he killed was a stray dog of the Holy Enclave.

  "They have a bounty; I'll ensure you receive it upon our return." She neared him, and he took a step back, keeping the shroud out of reach. "We can get you a replica once we return; his appearance is well documented."

  Why did it sound like this guy had action figures?

  "I heard they ripped out the tongues of blasphemers." The captain commented, heedless of their stand-off.

  "Might be hard to check." Cal nudged his head toward the corpse. "Got a little messy."

  It wasn't his fault human throats were such an easy target.

  "Captain…" Lennard marched in, only to trail off at the sight. "Is that the Whistling Death's shroud?"

  "Apparently," Cal confirmed, tossing it over. "Keep that for me, okay?"

  Lennard caught it without a thought. He didn't seem to mind as the blood soaked his hands.

  "There, happy?" Cal addressed Olivia again. "I'll let that guy keep it for me."

  Cal could acknowledge that keeping it at the Academy would be dumb. He also suspected Olivia would deny his wishes and get rid of it the first chance she got. This seemed an appropriate compromise.

  She pursed her lips but nodded in agreement.

  Score.

  "Sir, you two should vacate this area. My team will handle the clean up." The captain suggested.

  Olivia inspected the two agents.

  "Can I ask how?"

  Stickler for the details that one. Cal found that boring; they already said they'd do it.

  "First we'll burn the other remains. Then,"

  The captain approached the wall Petro had been hitting and laid a palm on it.

  "There's an active sewer that runs behind this; we'll collapse a wall and flood the place. I have yet to meet a Justiciar willing to put up with that shit." The captain ended with a smile.

  Cal suddenly realized what he'd been sitting in. A shower made its way on his priority list.

  Olivia nodded, satisfied.

  The pattering of footsteps was heard, and Cassey strolled in, stopping in her tracks to stare at the puddle of human.

  "Is that the Whistling Death?"

  Had he stumbled on the guy's fan club?

  What she was holding buzzed, reminding her why she came running in the first place.

  "Hey boss, your phone is going nuts again."

  Cal pretended not to hear the muttered 'boss?' from Olivia.

  He'd left it with her along with his clothes. He took the phone.

  Lily was calling him. He didn't particularly want to deal with her right now, but he had been avoiding her all day.

  "Callum!" Her voice shrieked through the speaker. "Where are you? The bastard took-"

  "I know." He cut her off to save his eardrums. "It's fine."

  "What do you mean it's… shut up. Don't say another word. Where are you right now? No, don't answer that. Meet me at the place we shared a dessert. Remember?"

  "Sure." It hadn't been that long ago, so it was still fresh in his memory.

  "Go there right now and don't talk to anybody. I'll get there as fast as I can."

  She hung up without waiting for him to agree.

  The clothes impacted him, and he caught them before they could hit the ground.

  "Better get dressed, boss," Cassey said, having been holding onto his stuff. "Sounds like you got a date." Her nose wrinkled. "Maybe get a hose down first?"