The next morning, Céline Dubois placed the old rotary phone back in its cradle, the click echoing in her silent office. She let out a long, frustrated sigh. Word of the botched raid and subsequent ambush was already all over the streets. But she had a more pressing concern. A dispatch from the royal seers in the capital had confirmed it: tonight's Silent Night was predicted to be an appearance of 'The Hush'. She was critically short-handed, and a gang war was the last thing she needed on the eve of a supernatural terror.
She strode out of her office and down to the main bullpen. "Roll call!" she commanded, her voice cutting through the morning chatter.
Every officer not currently on patrol filed into the main briefing room. As Wolfe took a seat, he noticed Monet was uncharacteristically quiet.
"You're not as energetic as usual," he observed.
"It's just..." Monet started, then shook her head. "Never mind."
"Is it about last night?" Wolfe pressed gently.
"I'll go in first," she said, deflecting. "Rookies sit at the front." She walked ahead and took a seat in the front row, leaving Wolfe to make a mental note to check in with her later.
Céline walked to the podium and began the roll call, her presence commanding immediate silence. "Tonight's Silent Night," she said, getting straight to the point, "is predicted to be The Hush. We have dealt with this entity before."
Her sharp green eyes found Monet in the front row. "Officer Monet. What is the primary rule of engagement for The Hush's Silent Night?"
Monet stood, her voice clear and practiced. "Keep looking forward, ma'am. Do not look in any direction other than directly forward. If one needs to look to the side or behind, you must turn your entire body."
"Correct," Céline said. "And what is the only time frame in which we are permitted to move our necks freely?"
"When the hushing sound changes to an eating sound, ma'am."
"And do you know what that specific sound is, Officer Monet?"
Monet was caught off guard. She'd never heard it. The last time The Hush had appeared, she was just a small child, and her parents had forced her to go to sleep with pillows over her ears. "No, ma'am. I do not."
"Flesh being torn from bone," Wolfe's voice said calmly from the back.
"It means that somewhere in the world, someone looked away and is being eaten alive," Celvise added grimly.
Morhan, leaning back in her chair, made a dark joke to break the tension. "Delightful sound while eating a steak."
A few of the veteran officers chuckled darkly. Céline allowed a faint smirk. "Okay, that's enough. Be ready for tonight. We are short-handed, so deal with any easy, open cases or sort out your paperwork today. We will need every available officer on the streets tonight. Dismissed."
As the officers filed out, Wolfe passed Valdi, who was already making a beeline for the exit. "Valdi," Wolfe called out. "Want to help me file this mountain of paperwork from last night's bust?"
"Sorry, Sarge," Valdi said without breaking stride. "Got a feast to prepare."
Wolfe stopped, confused. "Wait, hold on a minute. Where are you going?"
"It's a tradition," Valdi said, turning around with a look of profound seriousness. "I always do a big barbecue before the Silent Night. Good for morale."
"Valdi, you need to be at the station when you're called in," Wolfe argued. "Are you going to go back and forth from your house all day?"
"Don't worry," Valdi said, patting a large cooler he was carrying. "Already put my grill in the parking lot. If you want a sausage, come on by. First one's free."
"Wait, Valdi, that's not it either–" Wolfe started, but Valdi was already gone. Morhan walked past, shaking her head.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"It's Valdi," Wolfe said, exasperated. "He just got here, and he's already planning on leaving."
Morhan just shrugged. "He lives in the parking lot, you know. His rune-car is his home."
Wolfe stared at her, completely dumbfounded. "What? Since when?"
Morhan just shrugged again. "I don't know. A week ago, I think?"
…
A sharp, insistent knock echoed from the front door of the closed café. Soma, who had been cleaning up in the loft, came downstairs and opened it a crack.
"Today's closed, guys," he said, seeing a small group of their regulars standing outside. It was Kael, the demon, and a few others.
"We know," Kael said, his usual calm demeanor replaced by a somber gravity. "It's just... today's announcement. The Hush's Silent Night."
Zero came down the stairs, drawn by the voices. "Alright, alright," he said, opening the door wider. "Come in, come in."
They all filed into the dim, quiet café.
"You guys are regulars, so I'll let this slide," Zero said. "What do you want?"
Kael stepped forward and held out a small, folded piece of parchment. "Here," he said. "Take this. Put it in your memory book. I don't know what's going to happen tonight, but... I want you to still remember me."
Zero took the parchment. He and Soma unfolded it. On it, is Kael's portrait and his neat handwriting, was a list: his favorite foods from the café, a small, self-deprecating description of his appearance, his favorite things about Zero and Soma, and a short, heartfelt thank you. Zero and Soma looked at each other, confused.
From the Animus Hub, a voice echoed in their minds. It was Erwin. 'Just say thank you and take it,' he instructed. 'I'll explain after they've left.'
The other regulars offered similar, small mementos—a pressed flower, a small, carved trinket, another note. They all refused the offer of a drink or a meal. "We need to get back to our families," one of them said, and then, as a group, they left.
Soma looked at Zero, a bewildered expression on his face. "Okay," he said. "That was weird."
They both closed their eyes, their consciousnesses shifting to the Animus Hub. Inside, Sebas and Erwin were already waiting for them at the round table.
"What was that all about?" Soma demanded as he and Zero took their seats.
"It's The Hush," Erwin explained. "It's the continental-level threat we talked about."
"Yeah, and what about it?" Soma pressed.
"This one is a particularly dangerous entity," Sebas said, his voice grim. "Unlike other manifestations, where a breach in the city's barrier can be seen by mages or even regular people, The Hush is not like that."
"It makes a continuous hushing sound throughout the night," Erwin elaborated. "As long as you can hear that sound, its physical form is completely imperceptible. Even to the most powerful mages. The sound itself is its cloak."
"So if there's a leak somewhere in the barrier," Sebas added, "no one will know it has gotten inside until it's too late."
"And when it gets in," Erwin continued, "it will eat those who break the primary rule—those who twist their necks to look at it in the 'wrong' way."
"That's fucked up," Soma said, a chill running down his spine. "How do they even know what it looks like, then?"
"When it reaches its target and begins to... munch... on them," Erwin said, choosing his word carefully, "its mouth is occupied. It can no longer make the hushing noise. Then, and only then, its form becomes visible for a few brief, horrifying moments. But we never know where it will appear. The hushing sound is omnipresent; it can be heard throughout the entire continent at once."
"So why did Kael and the others give us those parchments?" Zero asked, the final, dreadful piece of the puzzle clicking into place in his mind.
Erwin sighed, his expression somber. He hesitated, then delivered the final, devastating fact. "Because," he said quietly, "once you are eaten by The Hush, everything about you—your body, your possessions, even the memories of you in the minds of others—is completely and utterly erased from existence."
Zero and Soma stared at him, their faces a mask of pure, dawning horror.
"What?"
…
Monet and Wolfe were on patrol, the rune-car a silent bubble moving through the mundane, sunlit streets of the city. The contrast with the chaos of the previous night was jarring.
"You know you can take a leave, right?" Wolfe said, breaking the long silence.
"Rookies can't take off days, sir," Monet replied plainly, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. Her usual energy was gone, replaced by a flat, weary tone.
"It wasn't your fault, you know," Wolfe said gently.
"It was still my responsibility," she said, her voice cracking slightly. "They... they're dead because of me. Because I was there."
Wolfe pulled the car over to the side of the road and parked, the engine humming quietly. He turned to face her. "And what can you do about it now?"
Monet just looked down at her hands, which were clenched tightly in her lap.
"It's a tough job," Wolfe continued, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "You'll see the darkest things this world has to offer. You'll be on the front lines of it, with a gun on your hip as if that can do a damn thing against the gods themselves."
Monet's gaze drifted to the empty back seat of the car. "I can still see them," she whispered. "Lying there. Dead."
"Look there," Wolfe said, pointing out his window.
On the side of the street, a group of children were playing, their laughter bright and carefree. One of them, a small boy in a dark blue tunic, was pretending to be a Watcher, "arresting" his friends who were playing the part of giggling monsters. Just then, a mother came out of a nearby house, playfully scolding her son for playing too rough and knocking over a pot of flowers.
"You're here for them," Wolfe said, his voice softer now. "I do this job for people like them. The ones who bring a little light into this world. Their laughter... it's worth it."
He saw a small, fragile smile touch Monet's lips as she watched the little boy in the blue tunic proudly "patrol" the sidewalk.
"I'm sorry, sir," she said, her voice stronger. She straightened her uniform, her posture becoming crisp and professional once more. "I'll be ready for them, too. For the people who need us."
A rare, genuine smile touched Wolfe's own lips. "Good." He reached into his glove compartment and pulled out a small, blank notepad and a pen. He tore off two sheets of paper, handing one and the pen to Monet.
"Write what you want me to remember about you," he said simply. "And here's mine." He began to scribble on his own sheet. "Just in case."
Monet understood. She took the paper and began to write.
A moment later, Wolfe started the car again, and they continued their patrol, two small, folded notes tucked safely away in their pockets.
…
"What do you mean, 'vanish'?" Soma asked, his voice a horrified whisper in the quiet of the Animus Hub.
"Exactly what I said," Erwin elaborated, his tone grim. "The night will begin as soon as you hear the hushing sound. Once it starts, that is your cue. Do not move your neck. Keep looking forward. The hushing sound will echo and can be heard throughout the entire continent. When The Hush sees someone break this rule, it will come for them, and it will eat them."
"Then what the fuck is the point of the city barrier?!" Soma demanded.
"The fact that it cannot be seen while it is hushing makes it impossible to know if it has already breached the barrier or is still outside," Sebas explained. "You would rather be safe than sorry."
"Exactly," Erwin agreed with a nod. "Once you hear the sound of flesh and bone crunching nearby, that is your window. That is the only time you can adjust your neck like usual. It means the entity is occupied, eating, and its mouth is no longer making the hush noise. And since it is no longer hushing, its form becomes visible. This is the time when the mages will usually fly around and check for leaks in the barrier."
"Fuuuucckkkk..." Zero and Soma breathed in unison.
"The general populace," Erwin continued, "usually buys or makes crude neck braces for themselves and their families. They go to sleep, hoping the contraptions don't break while they're sleeping."
"Wait, wait," Zero said, his mind racing to grasp the sheer, existential horror of it all. "This is fucked. But how does the 'vanishing from memory' part work? I get that people can forget things, but what happens if... let's say, Captain Céline were the one to get eaten tonight. What would happen to the precinct? Sure, her body vanishes, and the memories of her vanish from the Watchers' minds, but her position would still be open. There would be a void. No one would know who the Watch Commander is."
"The world... rationalizes the void," Erwin explained, the concept a difficult one to articulate. "The precinct would have a different sort of explanation for the gap. Sergeant Lomare might suddenly 'remember' a narrative where the captain was called away to the capital on urgent business. Another detective might 'remember' she resigned. Each person would subconsciously create their own explanation to fill the hole in their reality. By the time they realize their memories don't match, it's too late. They don't know who she was, what she looked like, or what her voice sounded like. All that's left is a confusing, contradictory blank space where a person used to be."
A look of dawning, horrified understanding crossed Soma's face. "That's why," he said, his voice barely a whisper, "my regulars gave me these parchments."
"Yes," Erwin confirmed, his expression somber. "It's a way for these people to fight back. To leave a physical record of their existence, hoping that a piece of paper and photo can hold onto a memory that the entire world is being forced to forget."
*A/N*
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*A/N*