It was an absolute void, empty of city noise or the wet clicking of monsters. But in the center of this nothingness, there was a flicker. It wasn't a physical flame, but a metaphorical one, a soul painted in strokes of burning orange and defiant gold. This was the essence of Gawain, a solitary fire pulsing against the overbearing reach of the dark.
The flames licked upward, casting no heat, only the raw, vibrating energy of a consciousness refusing to be extinguished.
From the heart of the light, a voice drifted, sounding disoriented and hollow.
"Where am I?"
Gawain's voice didn't echo; the darkness was too thick for sound to bounce. There was no ground beneath him, no sky above, only the steady burn of his own existence. He was a candle in a cavern, a singular point of "self" in a place designed to make one forget.
As he spoke, the fire flared brighter, the edges of the "paint" bleeding into the blackness like ink in water. He wasn't just observing the fire; he was the fire. And as the realization set in, the darkness around him began to ripple in response to his growing awareness.
The metaphysical fire of the soul flickered, its orange glow intensifying until it condensed into a single, sharp point of burning light.
The light didn't belong to a soul anymore. It belonged to a cigarette.
Reiner, Captain of Vanguard Group Z, took a long drag, the embers glowing bright against the twilight of the skate park. He leaned back against a chain-link fence, the metal groaning under his weight. The camera of the world seemed to linger on the Helsing Group Z patch stitched onto his orange jacket, a mark of meaning.
Reiner scratched his large silver beard as he stared into the skate park noticing a girl skating as he puffed from his cigarette
"That's her?" Reiner asked, exhaling a plume of smoke that drifted toward the ramps. "The 'Great' Grandchild of D'arcy?"
Standing beside him was Eiji, a slim man with his hair pulled back and his orange tracksuit stark against the concrete. He adjusted the Z-Sword at his hip, the blade a weight at his side.
"Sadly, yeah, Boss," Eiji replied with a weary shrug.
Reiner squinted through the smoke. "Why is she assigned to Group Z?"
"If only I could know," Eiji muttered. "The big boss just said to take her, and you know how she gets, so I guess... she's ours."
Their eyes followed a blur of motion. Elina D'arcy carved through the air on her skateboard, her Team Z tracksuit fluttering. Her striking yellow hair caught the wind like a banner. As she crested the edge of the bowl, she didn't offer a salute; she stuck a defiant finger up at Reiner before dropping back into the concrete wave.
Reiner blinked. "Well, shit." He threw his cigarette on the floor as he went to talk to the kid. "Uh, hey! Kid!"
Elina ignored him, spinning into another trick. Eiji let out a quiet snicker, watching his Captain struggle for authority.
"Kid!" Reiner barked louder.
Without looking, Elina reached into her mouth, plucked out her lollipop, and flicked it with pinpoint accuracy. It landed with a sticky smack right in the center of Reiner's forehead.
"OW!" Reiner recoiled, rubbing his head as Eiji doubled over.
Reiner let out a deep sigh
Enough was enough. As Elina sped past for another lap, Reiner stepped out with a well-timed foot. The board slipped over his massive boot, Elina tumbled, and before she could hit the ground, Reiner had her hoisted up by the hood of her Group Z sweatshirt.
"I was skating here!" Elina yelled, legs kicking the air. "Old man, I have a sponsorship clip to finish!"
"well aint that too fucking bad," Reiner chuckled, glancing at Eiji. The two men exchanged a thumbs up today instead of being monster hunters they were baby sitters
Yet again, the darkness was not an absence of light; it was a weight. It pressed against Gawain's consciousness with the density of deep-sea water, cold and absolute. In the center of this crushing void, he existed only as a flicker, a metaphysical fire of defiant orange and gold.
"Where the hell am I?"
His voice didn't travel yet again. There were no walls to catch the sound yet again , no floor to anchor his feet, sadly yes, yet again. There was only the "self," burning like a lone candle in a cathedral of ink. As his confusion spiked, the flame roared. The orange light didn't just brighten; it bled outward, the edges of his soul dissolving into the blackness like wet paint.
Then, the flashes began. They weren't memories so much as sensory shrapnel, tearing through the quiet of the void.
The First Flash: The Cold Steel
The smell of rain and iron. Gawain's perspective shifted he was looking up at a sky choked with grey clouds. A silhouette loomed over him, silver light catching the edge of a descending blade. He tried to raise a hand, but his limbs felt like lead.
Clang. The sound of the sword biting through bone and sinew echoed in his soul. He looked into the face of his killer, but the features were a smeared mess of static and shadow a blurry mask of indifference. Then, the world went black.
The Second Flash: The Needle
Light harsh, surgical, and flickering. Gawain felt the bite of a needle, but it wasn't a wound; it was a repair. He saw a pair of gloved hands, stained with chemicals and old blood, meticulously lacing a heavy thread through his own pale, disconnected skin.
A face leaned into the light. V Frankenstein. The young man's eyes were bloodshot, frantic with the kind of genius that bordered on a death wish. He wasn't looking at Gawain as a man, but as a puzzle. The Doctor's lips moved, whispering frantic, rhythmic calculations as the scent of formaldehyde filled the air. Gawain felt the first spark of artificial life jump-start his heart, a violent, jagged electricity that felt nothing like the warm fire of his soul.
The Third Flash: The Funeral Pyre
The smell of cedar and kerosene. The Frankenstein estate was a skeleton of blackened wood, silhouetted against a roaring orange inferno. Heat distorted the air. Gawain saw himself—or the thing he had become stumbling away from the wreckage. Behind him, the laboratory, the notes, and perhaps the Doctor himself were being consumed by the very element that now defined Gawain's existence.
The visions snapped shut like a book. Gawain was back in the void, but the fire of his soul was no longer steady. It flickered with a violent, rhythmic pulse, he felt a clock clicking
"What am I?" he whispered.
The harsh, orange glow of the setting sun bled across the Capitol city horizon, reflecting off the glass towers of the city like a dying fire. Reiner marched toward a battered, matte-black armored van parked at the edge of the skate park. The vehicle had seen better days; the "Vanguard" logo on the side was partially obscured by a spray-painted "Z" and several dents that looked suspiciously like they were caused by monster claws.
With a grunt, Reiner set Elina down on her feet as they reached the sliding side door.
"Here you go, brat," Reiner muttered, dusting off his hands as if he'd just finished a chore.
Elina didn't miss a beat. She adjusted her Group Z sweatshirt, her yellow hair messy from the tumble, and looked up at him with a gaze that could melt steel. "I'm gonna kick your ass, old man. One day, when you aren't looking, I'm sending you to a nursing home."
Reiner let out a short, dry laugh. "Sure you will, kid. I hope you're dead by then," he exclaimed sarcastically.
The side door hissed open, revealing the cramped, high-tech interior of the van. The smell of old coffee and ozone wafted out. In the driver's seat, a man wearing a crooked orange baseball cap turned around, leaning over the headrest. He looked at Reiner, then at the scowling teenage girl, and blinked slowly in confusion.
"Since when did you have a kid, Dude?" Bob asked, his voice deadpan.
"That ain't my kid," Reiner barked, climbing into the passenger seat. The van groaned under his massive frame. "And it's a long, frustrating story I don't feel like telling twice."
From the back of the van, a girl with long, vibrant blue hair pushed a pair of thick-rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose. She was surrounded by flickering monitors and half-disassembled gadgets. She looked Elina up and down, a smirk playing on her lips.
"Damn, Reiner," Alvia chuckled, her eyes dancing with amusement behind her lenses. "I thought you couldn't keep up. "You look like a mess".
"She threw him around!" Eiji exclaimed with a mighty grin.
Reiner gave Eiji an agitated look.
"Come on, metal head we know how "amazing you are"
Eiji stated
"Plus how could we forget the great underpants event"
Eiji exclaimed
The Van burst out into laughter as Elina gave a confused look
Reiner rubbed the spot on his forehead where the lollipop had hit him, his expression souring. "That's enough from you three. Bob, stop staring and start the engine. We're already late to Base 4, and if we miss the briefing,we might even get de ranked even more and I don't think that's possible."
"Copy that, Gandalf," Bob said, turning back to the wheel. He shifted the van into gear with a heavy clunk. "Strap in, It's a bumpy ride to the bottom of the food chain."
As the van peeled away from the curb, tires screeching against the asphalt, Elina slumped into a seat next to Alvia. She looked out the window at the passing lights of Capitol City, her defiant expression softening into something more contemplative.
The armored van lurched to a halt, its brakes squealing like a dying animal. Outside, Base 4 loomed a massive, brutalist fortress of reinforced concrete and tinted glass that should have been the beating heart of the sector's supernatural defense.
Bob killed the engine, and for a moment, the only sound was the metallic ticking of the cooling motor. No hum of transport VTOLs. No rhythmic marching of Group A security details. No shouting of orders.
Eiji slid the side door open, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his Z-Sword as he put his other hand on top of his brow to block out the sun. His eyes shut, scanning the perimeter. "Where the hell is everybody?"
"You're asking me that?" Reiner grumbled, climbing out and stretching his back until it popped. He looked around at the vacant landing pads and the silent automated turrets. "Usually, this place is crawling with silver-suited pricks from Group B trying to give me a parking ticket."
They stepped into the main hangar. It was vast, designed to house a small army, but now it felt like a tomb. The air was stale, smelling of cold ozone and floor wax. Long, clinical hallways stretched out into a darkness that the emergency dim-lights couldn't quite pierce. Their footsteps echoed, bouncing off the high ceilings in a way that made it sound like a dozen invisible people were walking just behind them.
"It's like a ghost town," Alvia whispered, clutching her tablet to her chest. Her blue hair seemed to glow even brighter against the oppressive grey of the base. "Even the automated cleaning bots are docked. Something feels… off."
"Maybe they finally went on strike," Bob muttered, Elina had wandering eyes though she stayed close to the group, her skateboard tucked under her arm like a shield.
The group made their way to the elevator. The ride up to the Command Level was silent and tense. When the doors hissed open, they entered the Mission Center a circular room filled with holographic maps of Capitol City. At the center of the room, bathed in the flickering blue light of a dozen data streams, stood a single figure.
The Handler didn't turn around immediately. They stood with their hands clasped behind their back, staring at a red pulsing icon over the Havenport district.
Eiji and Alvia let out a synchronized groan, their shoulders slumping in unison. "Oh, it's you again," they muttered, the disappointment heavy in their voices.
The Handler turned slowly. Their uniform was pressed so sharply it looked like it could draw blood, and their expression was a mask of cold, bureaucratic indifference.
"Yes," the Handler replied, their voice clipping every syllable with surgical precision. "It is I."
The Handler adjusted their spectacles, the lens reflecting the maps of the city. "And considering the rest of the Vanguard is currently occupied, the 'Distinguished' Group Z are the only ones left to clean up the mess in Havenport. Try not to embarrass the Foundation more than you already have."
Reiner stepped forward, his massive frame casting a heavy shadow over the Handler's glowing holograms. A mischievous glint sparked in his tired eyes as he leaned in close, looming over the smaller man.
"Looks like your forehead could use some extra shining, Boss," Reiner grinned, teeth white against his silver beard. "You're looking a little dull today."
The Handler didn't flinch. Without even looking up from his data-pad, he reached out and flicked Reiner sharply on the bridge of his nose. Snap.
"Ow! Dammit..." Reiner recoiled, rubbing his snout.
The rest of Team Z erupted into a chorus of snickers and half-muffled laughs, but the sound died instantly as the Handler turned his gaze toward them. His expression was a frozen mask of unchanging stone—a look that suggested he was already calculating their funeral costs. The silence in the room became heavy enough to crush.
"If you're finished with the comedy routine," the Handler said, his voice cold and dry. He tapped a key on the console, and the air filled with grainy, flickering images of ordinary citizens. "We have missing people. Lots of them."
"Missing people!" Eiji groaned, leaning back against a terminal. "We get it, people go missing in Capitol City every day. Probably just ran off to join a cult or got lost in the underground districts. What's the big deal?"
The Handler stared at Eiji until the swordsman shifted uncomfortably. Then, the Handler turned back to the screen. "Computer. Roll the damn tape."
The main monitor hissed with static before clearing into a security feed from Havenport. It showed two stumbling drunkenly down an alleyway. The team watched in silence as the atmosphere in the video seemed to thicken into a strange, unnatural fog.
Suddenly, one of the girls was yanked upward. To the naked eye of the camera, she appeared to be floating, her body contorting as if held by invisible hands. Then, the next one was snatched into the shadows. The footage ended with a trail of blood against the pavement that looked black under the neon lights.
Reiner's grin was long gone. His expression shifted into a worried, grim scowl. "Damn," he whispered.
"Exactly," the Handler said, his spectacles reflecting the frozen image of the empty alley. "We have a problem. Cursed spirits are supposed to be tracked the moment they manifest. This one? It didn't even trigger the local sensors. It's roaming the city, and somehow, it hasn't appeared on our radar once."
The Handler closed the file, the blue light of the holographic maps returning to his face. "Your job is simple: find out what it is, find out why we can't see it, and kill it before the body count reaches double digits."
The holographic map of Havenport flickered one last time before the Handler shut it down, plunging the room into a cold, sterile dimness. The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the hum of the base's ventilation.
"Why are we dealing with this problem?" Eiji asked, his voice echoing off the reinforced concrete walls. He shifted his weight, the metal of his blade clinking. "Where the hell are the other teams? This has 'Group A' written all over it."
The Handler didn't look up from his data pad. The light from the screen reflected off his glasses, masking his eyes. "We sent Team V," he said flatly. "They went missing four hours ago. Consider yourselves PR control before the board of directors finds out there's a gap in the perimeter."
Eiji's hand flew to his head, rubbing his temple as if a migraine had just taken root. "Team V? Those guys are heavy hitters. Damn it," he hissed. "This isn't even our Pay grade ."
"I'm expecting you losers to make it to Havenport by tomorrow morning," the Handler added, his tone suggesting he'd already written their eulogies. "Try to stay on the radar. It makes the paperwork easier if we know where the bodies are."
"Great," Bob muttered from the back, adjusting his crooked cap. "I'm gonna have to find a cat-sitter again." He let out a long, disappointingly annoyed sigh. "Bob Jr hates the neighbor. This is going to cost me a fortune in premium-grade tuna."
"You named your cat Bob jr?" Alvia blurted
"Yeah?" Bob retorted
As the heavy blast doors of the command center hissed open, Team Z filed out into the hangar, a stark contrast to the gleaming, high-tech environment of Base 4.
Leading the pack was Reiner. Even in the dim emergency lighting, he was a mountain of a man. His orange Vanguard tracksuit was stretched tight across his broad shoulders, the orange fabric bright and striped with white lines like a street cone. His thick, silver-grey hair and matching beard were unkempt, framing a face etched with deep lines of experience. But it was his eyes, a piercing, deep electric blue, that commanded attention, burning with a weary but unshakable authority.
Behind him lagged Eiji. He walked with a deceptive, fluid grace. The blind man always kept his eyes perpetually closed as if he were navigating by a sense the others lacked. His hand never left the hilt of the Z-Sword strapped to his hip; his fingers drummed a rhythmic, nervous beat against the guard, the only sign of his agitation.
Bringing up the rear were Bob and Alvia, locked in their usual verbal sparring.
"I'm telling you, the name Bob jr Sucks! Your cat must hate you!" Alvia barked. Her vibrant blue hair swayed violently with every step, catching the light like a neon sign. She adjusted her thick glasses, her eyes darting across a handheld tablet as she walked.
"You're just mad,Alvi," Bob shot back, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets. " You're just mad. My cat has better intuition than your tech."
"Don't you bring My tech into this, you—"
Alvia's hair began to glow blue as the psychic was ready to wipe Bob off the ground.
In the heat of the argument, Bob tripped over a stray power cable. His orange cap flew off his head, tumbling through the air.
"HEY!" Reiner's voice boomed through the hangar like a physical strike. The sound was so sudden and powerful that the air seemed to vibrate.
Alvia and Bob froze mid-stride. Bob caught his cap an inch from the floor, and Alvia nearly dropped her tablet. They both straightened up instantly, looking like school children caught breaking a window.
"Sorry, Boss," they chimed in unison, their heads ducking as they hurried toward the battered matte-black van waiting at the end of the runway.
Eiji stared down at the ground in embarrassment, then he looked at Elina.
"You're oddly quiet."
"You're oddly strange." Elina hissed back
Reiner watched them for a moment, his blue eyes softening just a fraction. He looked at the "Z" painted crudely over the corporate logo on the hangar wall. They were a mess, a collection of rejects and "problem children," but they were all he had.
The interior of the van was massive due to the spatial manipulation but cramped with a symphony of humming server racks and the faint smell of Bob's lukewarm coffee. Outside, the gleaming skyscrapers of the Capitol began to give way to the rusted, industrial skeleton of the outskirts.
Reiner broke the silence, his voice low and gravelly. "What could it possibly be? To take out Team V that quickly... It's not just some stray ghost."
"A Grendel?" Eiji suggested, his eyes remaining closed as he leaned his head against the vibrating metal wall of the van.
Elina snorted, crossing her arms over her chest. "You mean a monster, right? What's the point of the old-school speech?"
Eiji offered a tired, half-smirk. "Terminology matters, Blockhead. Tradition keeps you grounded when things get weird."
"Whatever," Elina muttered, though she listened intently as Alvia chimed in from behind her glowing monitors.
"He's right to be worried," Alvia said, her fingers dancing across a holographic keyboard. "Monsters of this caliber usually don't cross the World Between Worlds like this. The barriers are supposed to be airtight in this sector."
Elina tilted her head. "The World Between Worlds? Is that like... a dimension or something?"
"It's a gap in reality," Alvia explained, her hair casting a soft blue light over the blueprints on her screen. "It's where the stronger beasts reside, the ones from the old legends, the ones the first humans banished during the first spiritual Crusade . Dragons, true-blood Vampires, the heavy hitters. Usually, we just deal with the 'average' stuff: Cursed spirits, low-level witches, or strays. But this?" She tapped a frozen frame of the floating girl from the security footage. "Something this weird shouldn't be here."
At the mention of Vampires, Elina's gaze dropped to her own hand. She flexed her fingers, her expression flickering with a shadow of something private and unsettled before she masked it with her usual scowl.
"Especially in Havenport of all places," Reiner grumbled, staring out the windshield at the darkening horizon. "That place is practically a graveyard. The city is dead."
"No, it's not," Elina interjected sharply.
Reiner glanced at her in the rearview mirror. "Huh?"
"The nightlife is crazy there," Elina said, a defiant spark in her eyes. "I used to get into fights there all the time. It's loud, it's messy, and it's crowded."
Eiji let out a dry chuckle. "Well, that explains how you ended up assigned to a 'trash' unit like Group Z, doesn't it?"
"Watch it, longlegs," Elina hissed, her grip tightening on her skateboard.
Reiner ignored the bickering, his mind already spinning. "What do you mean by nightlife, kid? Give me the street version, not the brochure."
"When I first moved to the district after switching schools, the locals were always complaining," Elina explained, her voice dropping an octave. "The old people groaned about the noise, but they were mostly scared. They said people go missing on the regular. Not just 'runaways', whole groups just vanishing into the fog. The Vanguard ignores it because it's a low-income zone, but the people there know. Something has been hunting Havenport for a long time."
The matte-black van lurched to a halt as the tires crunched over broken glass and wet gravel. The air in Havenport was thick, a cloying, nauseating mixture of salt water, rotting garbage, and a strange, sickly sweet scent like ozone and crushed flowers that hit Reiner's nose like a physical blow.
"Damn," Bob muttered, wrinkling his nose as he wiped condensation off the windshield. "It smells like absolute shit out here."
Elina leaned back, looking out at the dim, neon-stained shadows of the district. "Probably just the leftover alcohol and the questionable choices people make in this area," she said dryly. "Welcome to Heavenport. What was Capitol City's fishing district is now a damn red light district."
Bob killed the headlights. In the sudden darkness, an old structure loomed. It looked more like an ancient, weathered shrine than a military outpost. Faded wooden beams and a sagging roof gave it a ghostly silhouette. A small, rusted plaque near the entrance read: BASE 6.
"So this is Group V's base?" Eiji asked, stepping out of the van. He kept his hand on his Z-Sword, his head tilting as he listened to the creaking of the old wood.
"Yeah," Reiner grunted, hoisting his massive frame out of the passenger seat. "I guess the head of Team V. He wasn't a fan of the big glass towers or the corporate warehouses. He probably liked things... traditional."
The group stepped inside, the floorboards groaning under their weight. The interior was a cluttered mess of shadows. Suddenly, Bob let out a muffled yelp.
"Eeek!" Bob jumped nearly a foot in the air, spinning around to face a towering, jagged silhouette that had just grazed his back.
"Dude, relax," Alvia sighed, her hair glowing a faint, annoyed blue. "It's just a statue." She gestured to a massive, dusty Gundam figure standing guard in the corner. "I guess they had weird hobbies. Also... found the lights."
Alvia flicked a heavy brass switch. For a second, nothing happened. Then, the hum of spiritual machinery vibrated through the floor. The Spatial Manipulation kicked in with a violent whoosh of air. The walls seemed to stretch outward, the ceiling rose into a vaulted dome, and the cramped shrine expanded into a massive, high-tech tactical floor that defied the laws of physics.
"Cool," Eiji whispered, finally relaxing his shoulders and crossing his arms.
The moment of peace didn't last. A sharp, rhythmic knock-knock-knock echoed through the expanded hall.
Instantly, the Spatial Manipulation collapsed. The walls slammed back into their original, cramped positions to hide the base's true nature from the "regular" eye.
"Damn it, man!" Alvia hissed, grabbing her tablet as the monitors flickered out.
Reiner marched to the door, his hand hovering over his shift tool, a large flail materializing around his waist. He threw the door open, ready for a fight, but as he looked around, he saw nothing at eye level but the wind. He looked down.
Standing on the porch was an elderly woman. She wore a floral dress and a bright, official-looking sash across her chest that read: HOA.
Reiner slammed the door shut instantly. His face was pale, his eyes wide with a rare, genuine look of terror.
"Who was it?" Elina asked, her hand moving toward a hidden blade. "A Witch? The Grendel?"
Reiner didn't answer immediately. It's the freaking HOA, he thought frantically. Oh no. Do they know about my unpaid bills? How did they find me here? Maybe if I just use my Spirit Shift on her, I can make her forget... no,no, that goes against the mandate.
"It's nothing, kid," Reiner said aloud, his voice cracking slightly. He took a deep breath, wiped the cold sweat from his brow, and slowly reopened the door. "How do you do, lady?"
"Why, hello there!" the woman chirped.
Luaine Marabel was short, even for an old woman, but there was something profoundly wrong with her. Her skin was a dull, ashen grey, and when she smiled, her mouth stretched just a little too wide, revealing a row of jagged, yellowed teeth. Her eyes were milky, staring at Reiner with a gaze that felt like it was peeling back his skin.
Reiner stood frozen in the doorway, his massive frame trembling slightly as the rest of Team Z huddled behind him, peering over his broad shoulders like curious children.
"How... How are you, ?" Reiner looked at the lady's name tag. Reiner stammered,"Luaine," his hand white-knuckled on the doorframe.
"Good... good," Luaine rasped, her milky eyes darting past him to the cluttered interior of the shrine. "I couldn't help but notice that beat-up 'van' parked on the side. It's quite an eyesore for this... run-down place , don't you think?"
Reiner's eye twitched. Why that little... he thought, his mental image of a "Helsing Vanguard Captain" crumbling. We should have parked in the back. Aloud, he forced a painful, awkward smile. "Oh, yeah. We'll, uh... We'll work on it. Maintenance is on the way."
Behind him, Elina leaned toward Eiji, her voice a loud, disbelieving whisper. "Is he seriously scared of that? She's like four feet tall and smells like mothballs."
Eiji didn't even turn around. He simply pointed a finger in silent confirmation, his expression one of grim, weary acceptance. "Yep. The HOA is the one monster the Vanguard doesn't give us weapons for."
Luaine leaned in closer, the sweet, cloying scent of ozone from her skin wafting into the room. "I'll let you know, dear... not everyone who comes here stays. Havenport has a way of... thinning the herd."
"Yeah," Reiner said, his voice dropping into a more serious tone. "I'm aware of that."
The old woman didn't stop there. She began a rhythmic, droning list of minute problems a loose shingle, the height of the weeds, even the unkempt state of Reiner's silver beard. As she talked, Reiner felt the weight of the flail at his waist. Maybe I can just portray her as a witch, he thought frantically. Just one swipe and she's gone, right?
"Well... welcome to the neighborhood," Luaine said suddenly. Her neck gave a sharp, involuntary twitch, and her smile widened, revealing the teeth that were jagged, long, and stained a deep, sickly yellow.
"I bid you w—"
SLAM.
Reiner shut the door before she could finish the word, throwing the heavy iron bolt into place. He leaned his forehead against the wood, taking a long, shaky, deep breath. "Whew..."
The room remained silent for a moment. The high-tech monitors of the base flickered back to life as the spatial manipulation stabilized, bathing the team in a cold, digital blue light. The humor of the moment evaporated as the reality of the mission settled back onto their shoulders.
Reiner turned around, his blue eyes hard and focused once more. The "scared tenant" was gone; the Captain was back.
"Alright, enough games," Reiner barked. "Get some sleep. We move out first thing tomorrow morning. We're going searching, and I don't want to stay here any longer.'"
Outside, in the thick Havenport fog, Luaine Marabel stood perfectly still for three minutes. Her smile didn't fade. Then, with a crack of bone, her head tilted 180 degrees toward the dark alleyway, and she began to hum.