Melissa followed the scarred man into the dimly lit office, her strides sharp with urgency. The door hadn't even closed behind her when he turned, his gravelly voice cutting through the silence.
"You'll have a team," he said, not even glancing at her. "They'll brief you. Follow their lead."
Melissa opened her mouth to speak, but he held up a hand, stopping her.
"You leave in ten minutes. Be back before midnight. No delays."
His tone left no room for argument. She clenched her jaw but gave a stiff nod.
"They'll explain everything," he added, pulling open a drawer and sliding a small black pouch across the desk toward her. "Don't ask too many questions. Just observe—and survive."
Melissa's fingers tightened around the pouch. She had no idea what she was walking into, but something about the urgency, the secrecy, and that scarred face told her this night would change everything.
When Melissa turned toward the door, the scrawny man she'd encountered earlier was already waiting for her, his bony fingers motioning silently for her to follow. She obeyed without a word, her boots echoing lightly against the cold floor as he led her down a hallway she didn't recognize.
They stopped in front of a steel door she'd never seen before. It slid open with a hiss, revealing a dim room lit by a single overhead light. Inside, three people sat scattered across the space, each giving off an entirely different kind of energy.
The first person Melissa noticed was a little girl—no older than eight—sitting cross-legged on the floor with her back against the wall. She had messy pigtails and was humming softly to herself as she rocked a teddy bear in one arm. In her other hand, she clutched what looked like a toy gun—bright pink, but unsettlingly real in the way she handled it, her finger hovering just over the trigger.
The girl looked up briefly, made eye contact with Melissa, and then returned to whispering something inaudible to the bear, as if Melissa's presence didn't matter at all.
Melissa didn't know whether to be concerned or terrified.
When she turned to the other side of the room, her eyes landed on a guy wearing a cowboy hat, tilted low to hide his face. His boots—the kind with rollers at the heel that clinked when he walked—were propped up on the table, and his arms were folded across his chest like he didn't have a care in the world.
On the far end of the same table sat another figure, oddly dressed in a heavy winter coat. Melissa instinctively glanced around. The room was neither cold nor breezy, so the coat felt out of place. He sat still like whatever was happening in the room was unrelated to him.
"Hello," she said, trying to break the silence.
No one answered.
Instead, the scrawny man who'd been standing by the corner pointed to a chair. "Sit. One more person's coming."
She hesitated but obeyed, pulling out the chair and lowering herself onto the other side of the table. The cowboy didn't move. The guy in the winter coat remained as still as a statue.
Without another word, the scrawny man turned and walked out through the open door, leaving it ajar behind him. The silence thickened, pressing against her ears. She stole another glance around the room, wondering who—or what—they were waiting for.
Moments later, the final person arrived. A slim man stepped through the doorway with a very confident posture like he had rehearsed it. He wore a perfectly pressed suit that gave off a butler's vibe, complete with pristine white gloves and a pair of glasses that sat perfectly on his nose.
His eyes scanned the room.
He stepped further into the room with confident ease, his polished shoes barely making a sound against the tiled floor. Adjusting his perfectly tailored suit and smoothing out the edges of his gloves, he gave them a short, respectful bow.
"My name is Alistair Crane," he said, his voice crisp and articulate. "I'll be overseeing this mission."
The girl with the pigtails lowered her toy gun and tilted her head.
"You already know all of us?" she asked, a playful smirk on her face.
"Yes," Alistair replied smoothly. "But since we'll be working as a team, it's essential you know each other as well. Names build trust. And trust is necessary for survival."
He took a step back, gesturing toward the table. "Please, introduce yourselves."
The little girl was the first to speak.
"I'm Pixie," she said cheerfully, hugging her teddy.
The man in the cowboy hat slowly tipped it back, revealing a rugged face with a deep scar running from his jaw to just under his eye.
"Name's Colt," he said with a lazy drawl.
Pixie giggled.
Next, the man in the winter coat adjusted his collar and leaned forward slightly, revealing sharp, icy blue eyes.
"Call me Frost," he said.
Alistair nodded with approval and finally turned his gaze to the last one seated.
She swallowed lightly and said, "Mellissa."
Alistair gave her a small nod of acknowledgment. "Good. Now that we're acquainted, I will tell you how this mission will go."