31 Richard Street. A long line of abandoned, dilapidated, and foreclosed warehouses. The streets here seemed to close in. They were older roads made when the town was founded—barely wide enough for two cars to pass abreast, though the signs and markings still insisted they were two-ways. Seth put his car in park in the lot of a particularly derelict building, six stories of brick history, crumbling to the winds of time. Across the parking lot sat another car, also Subaru. He couldn’t make out he model at this distance.

It flashed its lights at him. Seth turned off his vehicle.

He pressed his lips together and put his phone in the glove box before getting out and walking across the parking lot. The wind that managed to slip its way between the buildings carried the stale scents of old rain and sewage to him, enhancing the feeling of ancient neglect. The lights on the other Subaru dimmed. Forester, olive green. Seth could see a person wearing a hood in the driver’s seat. They pointed at the passenger side and Seth crossed over to it, hesitating when the door unlocked.

The window rolled down a little and the same voice he’d heard on the phone spoke. “Get in, Seth. I can see that it’s you.”

“You have your phone on you?”

“Of course.”

“I’m not talking with it nearby.”

Emily looked out from the shadow of the hoodie, her eyes narrowed. “Alright.” She placed the phone on the seat next to her and got out of the Subarau, locking both doors before she walked to the center of the parking lot and waited for Seth. He crossed to her. She only an inch or two shorter than him, and clothed in very ill-fitting jeans and a baggy gray hoodie. Black workers boots completed her outfit. From a distance, you couldn’t even tell she was a girl, and Seth had a feeling that was the entire point.

“So, here we are.”

Seth nodded. “Tell me everything.”

“Everything is in my articles.”

“No, how did you get tipped off about the crash, what was it like, all of that.”

“Luck. I was almost hit by the semi myself. The thing just plowed into you, drunk driver, sure you know that. Some girl ran from the side of the road and pulled you out. Strong as hell, she ripped open your dented door to get you out. You were covered in blood, and your head was caved in, but you were still breathing. I called 911, EMTs came maybe five minutes later, that girl disappeared on everyone before she could be asked any questions.”

“How caved in?”

“You never saw the X-rays?”

He shook his head.

“I see. Well, like… Half?” She held her hands up in a circle and then flattened out her left hand. “Like that.”

Seth felt just a little sick.

“You look great, though. They do any reconstruction on you?”

“Not a bit. You know that, though, I’m sure.”

She shrugged, placing her hands in the front pocket of her hoodie. “So, I can tell you’re beating around the bush. You wouldn’t have just called me to ask about your head. What’s going on?”

“My hospital records disappeared.”

“Well, that’s something. Makes the details I left out of the second article more interesting.”

“What are those?”

“Just a few simple things. Like the fact there were only two bullets recovered from the shooting and no casings whatsoever.”

“Go on.”

“The bullets were ball rounds. Military uses them. But, when I submitted my article, I was told to take that out because it wasn’t true. I called the police department to double-check, and guess what? No bullets in evidence anymore.”

Seth looked around the dark street. “Do you know what happened to me after the shooting?”

“Yeah, you were in an ICU for two weeks, in a coma. You recovered and have been doing physical therapy since then.”

Hunter-33’s cover story was tight, then, if she hadn’t been able to figure out he was awake and doing brain scans at a hospital just a city over. “That’s not true.”

“Are you saying there’s a cover-up?”

“Not unless you agree to my terms.”

She raised a single blond eyebrow. “Freedom of the press.”

“You want to die?”

Seth saw barrel poke forward from within the pocket of her hoodie. “Might want to back up,” Emily said. “I don’t like it when people talk that way to me.”

He held his hands up. “I’m not threatening you. Other people will, though.”

“You’re really dumb coming to a reporter then. It’s my job to expose conspiracies.”

“Please tell me you’re not that stupid.”

She let out a long sigh. “I’m not. But why come to me, though? I’m just trying to make a living, I’m not Pulitzer-hungry. At all. If you have a story, I’ll tell it, but if you’re gonna be all cloak and dagger about it, I’m walking away.”

“I want answers.”

“Then you came to the wrong person.” The gun barrel stopped poking through the fabric of the hoodie, but she kept her hands in the pocket. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.” She brushed past Seth and walked towards her car.

Seth clenched and unclenched his fists, but let her go. She was right. She wasn’t the one to have answers. Seth crouched down and held his head in his hands as her car pulled out of the parking lot, leaving him alone in the darkness of the street. The wind blew softly, still acrid with its stench.

The hairs on the back of Seth’s neck stood up, and he did the same in a flash, whirling around and searching for the source of that feeling.

Nothing, just an empty street and abandoned buildings. But Seth knew. Someone watched. He could feel it deep in his bones.

“Where are you?” He shouted. His voice echoed up and down the street, producing exactly what he expected. No response.

Seth flinched as sharp pain lanced between his eyes. He grabbed his forehead and looked around. For a moment, ever so brief, he thought he saw a light in a top-story window of the warehouse across the street. No, two lights, one a hazy yellow and the other a deep magenta. He blinked and they were gone, just the same as the pain between his eyes. Seth hesitated only for a moment before sprinting across the street to the small door beside the warehouse’s loading docks.

The handle was old, rusted.

And melted.

The metal was twisted, frozen in a state of dripping down the door, like it was exposed to intense heat and immediately chilled seconds later. Seth looked four stories up. That person had a lot of ground to cover to escape him. Seth kicked the door open, wishing he had his mithril augment on. His flesh augment did just fine, though, and the door crashed open as Seth stalked inside. A twisting network of catwalks ascending upwards greeted him, the ceiling for this portion maybe three stories up.

Somewhere within the building, he heard a door slam.

“Alright,” growled Seth, running up the nearest stairs and wrapping his way through the catwalks. As he rose, he could see a door on the far side of the ceiling, across a catwalk that spanned the entire room of the loading docks. He ran to it, his shoes crashing on metal that was probably declared unsafe years ago by city inspectors. The sound of him running echoed throughout the building. Whoever was up there definitely knew he was coming.

Seth didn’t even look at the knob as he lunged into a kick, smashing the old door wide open and revealing a staircase that doubled back on itself. Seth rounded up the stairs, crashing through another weak door into a large room. Desks lay scattered and overturned, trash strewn everywhere. He could smell urine. A row of windows overlooked the street, and a door swung on its hinges on the right side of the room.

Seth ran through the door, he could hear footfalls crashing across the catwalks below. Seth leapt each flight of stairs, lunging through the landing into the next and sprinting out of the door at the bottom. He didn’t have to look for more than a quarter second to see scorch-marks all around it. As he ran onto the catwalk, he saw someone one level below, running towards a staircase. They were clothed in black, and fast. They’d get away with the distance between the two of them.

Seth thought of all the injuries he’d recovered from. Screw it. Seth vaulted over the side of the railing and crashed down twelve feet to the catwalk below, shortening the distance between him and the runner to less than thirty feet. Seth’s legs absorbed the fall with a lot of pain, but he managed to stand up. “Stop!”

The person whirled, hands up in front of them, palm behind palm, fingers extended. The center of their palm glowed with pale blue light. Seth’s eyes widened and he sprawled like he was stuffing a takedown. A beam of light blasted past him, carrying the sound of rushing wind. He could hear it impact the far wall and fill the warehouse with the sound of shattering ice. Seth sprang up. The runner had already put another staircase between them.

Seth vaulted again, crashing to the final catwalk between them and the ground and standing up, planting himself in the way of the runner. The were clothed in all black, complete with a balaclava that obscured their face. “Who are you?” Growled Seth.

The held out a single hand, fingertips together, palm flat to the ground, and shouted something in a language that sounded Slavic. Seth threw himself down again, but as he did, his limbs stopped taking orders and he crashed to the ground, unable to move anything aside from his eyes. The person walked up to him and crouched in front of him. They pointed to a watch on their wrist and held up four fingers, then stood up and stepped over him. A minute later he heard a door close and he was alone in the warehouse, still frozen.

Another minute of silence passed and Seth regained his fingers and toes. Another minute and he could ragdoll himself to a seated position and look around. Not a soul in sight. Seth cursed, but it came out slurred, like he’d been drinking for twelve hours straight. He sighed and waited. Another minute passed and Seth stood to his feet, leaning on the railing of the catwalk. Still no answers. Not how he had wanted this night to go. Seth kicked the railing and headed back to his car.