[American Warden Temple–Medical Wing]
Zhang slowly regains consciousness, blinded by the fluorescent lights. Kiara is busy sleeping on her cozy medical bed, pretending to be in a comatose state.
"You're awake quickly," Edward says, flipping through the newspapers.
"How long have I been out?" Zhang asks.
"A couple of hours," Edward replies, flipping through the pages. "You were on death's door, a couple of minutes too late, your heart would have stopped."
"This is not how I expected my first team retreat," Zhang mutters, shoulders feeling sore.
"You should hear the stories everyone is talking about you and Kiara," Edward softly says, tossing an apple to Zhang.
The old man walks forward to Kiara and dramatically pulls the bed sheets off of her.
"Wake up! You're not fooling anyone."
Kiara groans, not wanting to get out of the comfy bed.
Walking up to the door, Edward slowly shuts the door with a soft click. His expression grows cold and calculating as he pulls out Alwin's pin from his pocket. His finger fidgets around the gold and black sigil–A deer head surrounded by a serpent biting its own tail. A pattern of a chessboard fills the background.
The pin was still stained with Alwin's blood.
[A few hours ago—American Warden Temple: Courtyard]
"Everyone make way!" August yells as healers and other Wardens pull Zhang and Kiara's bodies into the med bay. Kiara's peers quickly rush in and follow their superiors. Edward looks over a balcony, watching the chaos.
As the healers begin healing the two Wardens from Alwin's poison, Edward worryingly looks through the tinted glass window in the room. Turning his gaze, he follows the coroner and pathologists into the morgue, carrying Alwin's dead body in a body bag.
He steals scrubs and a mask without anyone noticing.
Sneaking into the morgue, he watches the men carefully remove the clothing and accessories from Alwin's body. They carefully document and take pictures of everything the man carries. Tucking the accessories into separate black bags, the staff labels them for description and time.
They place it on a grey tray before shuffling Alwin's body into a freezer. The men don't notice Edward as they leave the room to take a break.
Grabbing the bags, Edward aggressively searches for something.
Anything.
After the third or fourth bag, he finds the pin that Alwin carries on his cloak. He hides it under his clothes while acting professional with the staff.
He looks back at the morgue, expression unreadable. He smirks to himself.
[Present time]
"Got what I needed," Edward mutters, tossing the pin into the air before grabbing it.
He walks through the stone-patterned corridors, minding himself.
Behind him, the tide is shifting.
Meanwhile, in a separate area in the temple, the Emissary makes an important call on the end of his receiver. He straightens himself before answering whoever picks up.
"I want to apologize for Alwin's failures," the emissary says, leaning next to the stone corridor. The end of the receiver beeps, causing the man to breathe heavily.
"Abandon Directive: Death Adder," the voice orders.
"Abandon?" The emissary mutters, eyes widen.
"It's no longer postponed," the voice continues.
"With the death of Alwin Dubois, we see no point now to continue our pursuit of Kiara and Edward Meitner, nor Adam Lazarus."
Silence.
"As you wish," the Emissary states, voice returning to its calm, unshaken tone. The call dies with an eerie buzz. With mechanical precision, he walks back into Alwin's chambers and turns on the shredder–metal teeth whirring back on.
Pulling out the file holding Directive: Death Adder, the Emissary looks over the logs. He feeds the shredder its meal, a single page at a time.
Alwin's name.
Target names.
Mission log.
Each sheet disappears into the machine, reduced to nothing but confetti.
The final page—marked: Contingency "Zhang He.- catches the Emissary's attention. He glances at it before casting it aside.
The shredder devours it.
He wipes the desk clean in a perfect circular motion, reorganizing the shelves of their messy books and sweeping up the dust from the floor with a broom. He carefully dusted the top of the shelves, lint flying in the air.
He sprays the glass cleaner on a computer before wiping the screen with a fiber cloth. He checks every corner to see if any grime has hidden from him.
Turning away, the Emissary leaves the room, removing his trace.
Back in a different part of the temple, Edward opens the door, flooded by crimson lighting. Rows of pinned faded images hanging off singular rows of wires.
"What do you need, Edward?" the square-glasses man asks, pinning up a faded image. His eyes linger on the photograph longer than necessary, even if nothing substantial is on it.
Edward stays quiet, looking over the finished pictures.
"Is this all you got?" he asks, crossing his arms back.
"I tell you, Edward," the square-glasses man says, stepping up. "It's not possible unless you tell us what you are looking for."
"It's confidential," Edward states.
"Edward, we're wasting our time here," The squared glass man scoffs, waving his hand in the air. "We've been in and out of Coral Bay like you said, and we find nothing."
Edward doesn't answer immediately, letting the silence stretch.
"I don't need your understanding, Joseph. I need you just to do your job," he leans in slightly, tone dropping further to a whisper. "Frustrated now? Good. Pay attention."
"We can't do our job if you're not going to help us," Joseph barks back, pulling up his square glasses. "Are we actually supposed to be finding something?"
"Don't trust what you see," Edward implies, a clear warning. "Keep your eyes open and don't assume no one is on your side."
Joseph shares a glance with his partner, unease creeping under their frustration. He sighs through his nose. He adjusts his glasses repeatedly, leaning back on his chair.
Edward tilts his head slightly. Letting the silence ache. "I don't need your opinion. I need results."
"So you want us to chase ghosts, Edward?" Joseph scoffs, wrapping his arm over his chair. His partner chuckles, still drinking that bottle of whisky. How is that thing not empty by now?
"Notice the patterns. Always a little blurry edge," Edward points out, tugging his coat.
"That's how cameras work," Joseph's partner cuts in, sucking on a bottle of whisky.
"Maybe check again," Edward says, plucking a picture out of a clothes wire. "Those edges aren't how cameras work."
He leaves the room, leaving the two men mildly confused.
"He's clearly insane, right?" Joseph's partner asks.
"At least he's paying us," Joseph mutters, grabbing the whisky bottle.
As Edward makes his way to the elevator, he sees the Emissary walking by with cleaning supplies–fresh out of destroying evidence.
Edward and the Emissary cross paths, eyes locking on for just a moment, before going their separate ways.
Stepping into the elevator, he watches the Emissary disappear deeper into the corridor as the elevator gates close in front of him.
What is he doing around here? The Emissary questions, stuffing the supplies in the janitor's closet.
In the medical wing, Kiara dines with tangerines with her friends. Adam hands everyone the fruit bowl as Kiara's fingers dig into each of the fruit's skin.
"What do you think Alwin was blabbering about?" Adam asks, chewing on a slice.
"Who knows? He was acting crazy, trying to eradicate my bloodline like a typical spy villain," Kiara chuckles, feeling the cold air conditioning hit her skin. "How do you have electricity in a mountain?"
"Don't question it," Doran cuts in, sitting on the side of the bed. Anby and Seth sip on glasses of water, squelching their thirst.
"Adam, you can say it," Kiara chuckles, already regretting it.
Adam pretends to cough, smoothly pushing back his suit coat. He shakes his shoulders, trying to ease the tension. "Well, guys, bottom line—They're dead. We're not; we're living to see another day. You know why? Because we're legendary, we're unstoppable, and completely awesome."
He triumphantly raises his hand into the air. "We should celebrate. Today, the assassin's plot has officially been cancelled. All together now–High five!"
The room falls silent.
Doran stares off as if Adam is crazy. Anby and Seth still cringe at the speech. Perry pats Adam's sorry shoulder in pity. Kiara lazily raises her hand in the air, patting Adam's hand. Everyone else shortly follows, not knowing what to do.
Kiara lowers her hand, knowing the full implications of what happened—people really are going to kill her just because of her connections to her Grandpa.
Alwin's plot against her grandfather is really over, but something isn't adding up.
What did he really do?
What could he possibly have done to make people angry and want him dead?
Angry enough for him or her?
Alwin's words ring out in the back of her head, almost as if he were leaning next to her.
"No, I'll never stop. You think you're a special girl? I'll finish what should have happened to your family years ago."
Kiara's hands tighten over her bed sheets, clamping into a fist.
"I'm not here for you, and this won't end until you– and your family— are dead. Down to the last drop of blood."
The air conditioning suddenly grows colder.
The words stick. You don't put a price on a 'harmless' man.
Adam tosses her an orange from the bowl, snapping her out of the trance. "Rest up. You have to get back to school tomorrow."
"I really don't want to go back to school," Kiara groans, laying her head on the pillow. "I just want this to continue."
"The constant pursuit of death," Adam says, tossing an apple back and forth in his palms. "The feeling of a bounty on your head?"
"No. Not that," Kiara reminisces, "I don't wanna go back to normal. I like us like this–close-knit–like nothing could stop us."
"But you nearly died pursuing that?" Doran asks, cutting in. Everyone gently slaps Doran in the back of his head.
"But right now, guys, we have to get stronger than before," Kiara says, getting her friend's attention. "We can't just stay coasting."
Adam smirks, rubbing Doran's shoulders.
"I hope being with you guys doesn't kill me," Doran comments, body shaking as Adam rubs his shoulder. It's like Adam was preparing Doran for a fight.
"That's called foreshadowing," Adam jokes.
"No. No. That's not foreshadowing," Doran stammers, freezing up.
Adam winks–it didn't make the situation worse.
Kiara chuckles, lazily resting her head on her arm. Her jaw tightens, looking down at her bedsheets.
I hate that this is my life now, Kiara thinks, stomach churning. But I won't let anyone pay for it. Not me. Nor my friends.
As the day passes, night soon blankets over Kiara's world. The stars were perfectly aligned over the bustling city life, almost watching over the world. Somewhere beyond city lights, plans were moving accordingly.
Merrick walks into view, shadow draping over his face. Two Elusives follow him, draping a regal path for him. His black overcoat flows through the wind, the edges carried by an unseen force. None of the pedestrians sees the Elusives, only noticing weird shadows moving on a path for a coated man.
Seeing a regular man walk down the distance, Merrick passes by the man.
Blinking his eyes, the man looks around him, feeling like someone had walked past him. He sees nothing. He shrugs his shoulders before walking the other way.
Suddenly, a sharp pain hits his neck, quickly overwhelming his senses. He stumbles into an alleyway as Merrick swiftly pursues him. In a convulsive state, the man's skin and body overwhelm and burst into an Elusive.
Standing over its shedded human skin, the towering humanoid Elusive looms over its master, toxic drool dripping from its mouth. Its white crescent eyes stare directly into Merrick, almost curious about what it is seeing.
The moonlight shines over Merrick's face, illuminating one side of his face, showing his icy, cracked golden eye. His face remains neutral, watching the whole transformation with little enjoyment. Outstretching his hand, he absorbs the Elusive under his shadow, keeping it under his shadow.
The shadow fully draws over his face, covering it under a veil. Returning out of the alleyway, Merrick walks back into the open streets, forgotten by everyone around him.