The evening shift at Vie's Pie was winding down.
Huey wiped the counter for the third time, the rhythmic motion grounding him after everything that had happened during field assessment.
Three days since the ambush.
The bakery was nearly empty now. Just a couple in the corner sharing a slice of lemon tart and an old man nursing coffee while reading the newspaper.
The TV mounted in the corner played the evening news at a low but audible volume.
"latest victim brings the total death count to sixty-four civilians. Authorities are calling the perpetrator 'Burn' due to the distinctive nature of the murders. All victims were found with their bodies partially or completely melted, and in each case, a symbol was discovered at the scene."
The screen cut to crime scene photos, bodies blurred but the seventh seal symbol clearly visible, burned into walls and floors.
Huey glanced up briefly, then returned to wiping the already-clean counter.
"Arcanum Division has assigned the case to Lionheart Agency, whose jurisdiction covers the affected areas. We now go live to an exclusive interview with Lionheart's Magister, Reece Oxford."
The screen shifted to a press conference room.
Reece Oxford sat behind a table, reporters clustered in front of him with cameras and microphones.
He was young for a Magister, late twenties at most. Tall, even sitting down you could tell. He wore a perfectly tailored black suit with a silver tie, and dark glasses covered his eyes.
Reece Oxford had been born without sight, but his Crest more than compensated.
A reporter's voice cut through. "Magister Oxford, the murders have been escalating. What measures is Lionheart taking to apprehend this individual?"
Oxford's had a calm and serene vibe to him and when he spoke, his voice carried absolute confidence.
"The individual known as 'Burn' has been operating in Lionheart's jurisdiction for approximately one week and We've allocated additional personnel and resources to the investigation."
Another reporter. "Can you guarantee the safety of civilians?"
"Only God has such a say" Oxford smiled slightly. "But I can guarantee you this: 'Burn' will be apprehended."
"What makes you so confident?"
"Because nothing happens in my territory without my knowledge." Oxford's smile widened. "Quite literally."
The interview continued, but Huey had already tuned it out.
Burn.
Another serial killer and another case for someone else to handle.
He had enough on his plate without adding this to the list.
The bell above the door made a ding sound.
A man walked in, holding the hand of a little girl.
The father was mid-thirties, wearing work clothes stained with paint and plaster dust. Construction worker, probably.
He had tired eyes and calloused hands, but a warm smile when he looked down at his daughter.
The girl was maybe six years old, bright-eyed despite the late hour, clutching a stuffed rabbit that had seen better days.
They approached the counter.
"Evening," the father said. "Still open?"
"For another twenty minutes," Huey replied.
"What can I get you?"
The father scanned the display case. "What do you recommend for someone who's had a long day?"
Huey didn't hesitate. "Apple pie. It's what I'd get."
The girl tugged her father's sleeve. "Daddy, can we share one?"
The father's expression softened. "Of course, sweetie."
Huey plated a generous slice, added two forks, and set it on the counter.
The girl's eyes lit up when she saw it, that pure, uncomplicated joy that only children seemed capable of.
They sat at a table near the window.
Huey watched them for a moment longer than necessary.
And the memories came flowing back.
He was Seven years old.
Standing outside this same bakery, hand in hand with his father.
Atticus Cross was exhausted. You could see it in the way his shoulders sagged, the dark circles under his eyes and the sluggishness of his movements.
He'd just returned from a week-long mission.
"Dad," young Huey said quietly. " You could have just said no if you were tired."
Atticus looked down at him, and despite the exhaustion, he smiled.
"I'm never too tired for you."
They went inside. Ordered apple pie and sat in comfortable silence while Huey ate and Atticus just watched, not even touching his own slice.
Those moments were rare. Atticus was always deployed, always fighting, always somewhere else.
But when he was there, he was really there.
Huey blinked, pulled back to the present.
The father noticed him staring.
"You okay, kid?"
Huey realized he'd been gripping the counter edge hard enough to hurt. He released it, forced his expression neutral.
"Yeah. Just... a little bit of nostalgia."
The little girl was mid-bite, apple filling on her cheek, completely absorbed in the moment.
She noticed Huey looking and waved with her fork.
"Do you have a daddy too?" she asked.
The father looked embarrassed. "Sweetie, that's not...."
"I do," Huey said, kneeling so he was eye-level with her. "He's not around much right now."
"Is he busy saving people?" The girl's eyes were wide. "My daddy says Topplers save people."
Huey paused, then he smiled.
"Listen. When your dad's tired and he still takes you out for pie? That's him saving you in a different way. The small moments matter just as much as the big ones. Maybe even more."
The girl blinked, processing this with the seriousness only children brought to new ideas.
Then she smiled.
The father was staring at Huey now.
When they finished and stood to leave, the father pulled out his wallet and left a tip that was far more generous than the pie warranted.
"Thank you," he said quietly. "Really."
Huey just nodded, and the bell made a ding again.
The bakery was empty now except for Huey and the old man with his newspaper.
Huey stood alone behind the counter, staring at the empty table by the window.
The small moments.
When did I stop having those with him?
When did everything become about cases and conspiracies and revenge?
Hueys phone rang, and he picked it up, connecting to video.
Hailee appeared, sitting cross-legged on her couch in a bathroom robe. Her silver braids were down, and she had one foot propped up, giving herself a pedicure while a laptop sat open on the coffee table in front of her.
"Hey," she said, not looking up from her toenails. "Got your intel on one Marcus Chen."
Huey's casual demeanor evaporated instantly. "And?"
"Not much." Hailee finished one toe, moved to the next.
"Male, late twenties, Achusoi. No significant background, no major connections, no criminal record."
Huey's hand tightened on the phone. "What did he do for work?"
"Odd jobs mostly. Spent the last few years doing hazardous material testing for Azzuri Innovations." Hailee finally looked up at the camera. "He was one of the casualties at the St. Helena massacre eight months ago."
"Eight months ago."
"Huey?" Hailee's voice cut through his thoughts. "You still there?"
"Yeah." He forced his voice steady.
"That's all I could find," Hailee continued.
"Guy had basically no social life. No family, friends, nothing. Just another Achusoi who fell through the cracks."
"Right." Huey's mind was already moving ahead. "Thanks for looking into it."
"I did you one better though." Hailee smiled slightly.
"I found one of Montez's known associates. Guy named Fred. He's at a place called The Brass Knuckle right now. Rogue Toppler hangout spot in Sector 10."
Huey's eyes narrowed. "How'd you get that?"
"I have my sources. You want Montez? Fred's your lead."
There was a pause.
"You just want me to find Montez so Luce Nera can wrap up the Riva situation," Huey said.
Hailee shrugged, still focused on her pedicure. "And you want him for Marcus Chen. Win-win."
Another pause, longer this time.
"Hailee." Huey's voice was quiet but firm.
"If there's anything else you know about what happened eight months ago, now's the time to tell me."
For just a fraction of a second, Hailee's expression changed a little.
Guilt.
Or maybe fear.
Then it was gone.
"There's nothing, Huey. I'm telling you everything I know."
Huey stared at her through the screen.
She was lying.
He could see it in the way her eyes didn't quite meet the camera, the slight tension in her jaw.
But pushing her now wouldn't help. If Hailee was hiding something, she had her reasons.
He'd find out eventually.
"Right," he said. "Thanks for the help."
"Be careful," Hailee said. "Fred's not all that dangerous, but the people he associates with are."
"I'll manage."
The call ended.
Huey stood there for a moment, while holding his phone to process everything.
His phone buzzed again.
A text message this time.
[Alessia]: "We need to talk, I've got more leads on the serum."
Huey stared at the message for a moment, and pocketed his phone without responding.
"Sir," Jazz said quietly in his head. "She seems to be on to something, perhaps....."
"I don't have time for whatever it is she's chasing" Huey said. "Right now, I need to focus on finding Montez."
"Understood."
The Blue Reaper had work to do
Across the city, in her apartment, Hailee sat staring at her laptop screen.
The St. Helena case file was open. There were photos and reports on the incident.
And in the corner, a folder labeled:
"H.C. - Recovery Protocol - EYES ONLY."
She opened it.
Medical reports, handwritten notes in the margins and photos of injuries sustained eight months ago.
And at the bottom, a single note in her own handwriting:
"He doesn't remember and he can't ever remember."
Hailee closed the laptop, pressed her palms against her eyes.