New Jersey – Northside, Paterson
A quiet breeze rustled the dying leaves on the sidewalk as Agent Samsa stood with another agent by the front door of a modest home. He pressed the doorbell, then stepped back, hands behind his back. His partner, Agent Martin, stood to the side, silent.
Moments later, the door creaked open. A woman peeked out, concern already evident on her face.
"Good evening, madam," Samsa began, flashing his badge with his partner doing the same. "We're with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Does Dr. B. Kurt live here?"
The woman hesitated, eyes flickering between the two agents. "…Yes. Yes, he does. I-I'm his wife. Is… is there a problem, officers?"
Just then, a small girl burst toward the door, her voice full of curiosity.
"Mommy! Who's at the door?"
She poked her head around her mom's legs and looked up at the two agents.
"Good evening, Mister and second Mister," she said.
Both agents let out small smiles, faint but genuine. Samsa gave a nod. "Fine kid you've got there."
"Thank you," the woman said quietly, gently ushering the girl back. "Baby, go inside. Mommy's coming, okay?"
"Okay!" the girl said, running back inside.
The woman stepped outside fully and closed the door behind her.
"Sorry," she said, her voice now trembling slightly. "I just… Is there something wrong? Did Kurt get arrested? He's not been picking up his phone for days. He always calls every Saturday—always. But this is the second week… nothing. No call. No message. Nothing."
Agent Samsa shared a look with Martin.
"Ma'am," he began, voice slow and low, "I'd like you to stay calm. Alright?" He took a breath. "Dr. Kurt and his colleagues have all… gone missing. No one's seen them at the work site. No communications either. That's why we're here."
The woman's hand immediately flew to her mouth. Her eyes welled up. She staggered slightly but caught herself. Her breathing hitched. Her thoughts were clearly spiraling.
"But—he wouldn't just vanish. He wouldn't!" she managed to say, voice cracking. "He promised he'd be done with work this month. H-he said he'd take Kelly to the zoo this Saturday..."
Martin stepped up beside Samsa. His tone softened.
"We believe he's still out there. Just… not where he's supposed to be right now. Don't lose hope, ma'am." He placed a hand gently on her shoulder. "But please, if he contacts you in any way—call us immediately."
She nodded vigorously, tears streaking her cheeks.
"Hey, now," Martin added, giving her a feint smile. "Don't go back inside with those tears. You got a bright-eyed kid waiting for her superhero mom, yeah? Wipe 'em off."
The woman gave a trembling nod. "Thank you," she whispered. She turned, wiped her face quickly with the sleeve of her sweater, then quietly slipped back inside and locked the door.
Samsa and Martin walked slowly down the driveway toward their black sedan. A phone buzzed in Samsa's coat. He pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and answered. Putting it on speaker.
"RJ," Samsa said, holding the phone up. "How's it going over there?"
At first, all they could hear was laughter, and someone in the background telling a story. RJ's voice rang through the chaos, unmistakable.
Martin raised an eyebrow. "Where she at?"
Samsa sighed. "Japan."
RJ's voice came in clearly now, cutting through the noise. "What up, Samsa!"
She was clearly in the middle of telling a story at an open-air bar. A few folks around her, likely locals, were laughing. Others who didn't understand English, confused, were leaning in to ask what she'd said.
Samsa began, "What's with—"
"One sec," RJ interrupted, then turned to a woman beside her. They could faintly hear her ask, "What did you say was 'good evening' again?"
The woman responded with a cheerful voice, "Konbanwa."
RJ spun back to the phone, triumphant. "Konbanwa, Samsa!"
Martin frowned. "The fuck?"
"It's a greeting, I suppose. Japanese." Samsa palmed his face.
RJ's voice came back in. "Who's there with ya, Samsa?"
"Martin," Samsa replied dryly.
"Ohhh, Agent Martin!" RJ said, half-laughing. "Samsa ain't messing with yer head, is he? Boy likes to get the job done neat and clean. Never drops 'em."
"Nah, he's got me chillin', Agent Rose. For now, I believe," Martin replied.
"I see," RJ said. "I'm loving it here in Japan, y'know? Might just become your next language instructor when I'm done learning Japanese."
"Oyy, we's be waitin'," Martin replied with a chuckle.
"Hai!" RJ beamed.
"What's that?" Martin asked, brow raised.
"Means 'okay.'" She giggled, "Y'know I can—"
"Please," Samsa cut in over the phone, voice edged with impatience, "let's focus on why you called."
"Oh! About that." RJ's voice turned slightly muffled as she spoke with some pastry in her mouth. "That Dr. Takehiro Mora guy? He ain't here. Only family around is his sister, and she said his last visit was a month ago. Y'all checked his apartment or something?"
Samsa pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply. "Yes. We have."
"Oh, okay. Welp, I'mma stay two more days here then. Catch the vibe. Walk around some temples, y'know."
"What?" Samsa barked. "Why? We have a case going on, Rose!"
"My name. Oh come on, Samsa. Just two days! Agent Martin, help me tell him!"
Martin looked at Samsa and shrugged, eyes wide in mock helplessness.
"One day. That's final." Samsa snapped.
RJ gave an exaggerated sigh, then grinned. "Alright then. See y'all when I see y'all. Oh wait…" she turned to the lady beside her. "What's 'goodbye' again?"
"Sayonara," the woman replied warmly.
RJ brought the phone back to her ear. "Sayonara, Samsa and Agent Martin."
With that, she hung up.
Martin blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I don't know," Samsa muttered, already walking back toward the car. "Watch those Japanese cartoons. You'll know better."
He opened the door and slid into the driver's seat.
Martin snorted, walking around to the passenger side. "Ain't that what 'em call anime or somethin'?"
He got in, closed the door, and the car hummed as they drove off.
The street quieted.
Then, from behind the house, a cloaked figure stepped into view. Hood drawn low, face hidden except for a roughly trimmed beard peeking beneath the shadow. He walked with composure toward the door and rang the bell.
The same lady opened it.
"Riftborn," the man said calmly.
Her eyes went black, void of any light. Black veins spread like cracks across her skin, and her fingernails extended into cruel claws as she screeched and lunged at him, her human facade peeling off.
But the man didn't flinch.
From beneath his cloak, he unsheathed a glowing white sword. In one swift slash, the woman let out a shriek and collapsed to the ground, her body already beginning to crumble into ash.
"There's more," he muttered.
He stepped over her disintegrating corpse and entered the house.
A small girl—Kelly—stepped out from the shadows of the hallway. Her eyes flicked to the man, and for a moment, there was silence.
Then her face twisted into a scowl. Her irises turned pitch black just like the woman.
With a roar far too deep for a child, she lunged at him.
He didn't hesitate. A well-timed roundhouse kick sent her crashing into the wall. As she slid to the floor, he pulled a pistol. With calm precision, he pointed it at her head and fired a single shot.
A glowing bullet tore through her head—no blood, as she collapsed. She dissolved into black dust.
The man holstered his weapon and whispered, "Van Solas is done." then he snapped his fingers.
A flash of light consumed him, and he burst into a cloud of particles, disappearing.
Silence.
And then, two forms slowly phased back into reality.
The woman and girl stood whole once more—flesh restored, eyes normal. But not...Riftborn. Not anymore.