Just how long has it been now? 

The man mutters to himself, his eyes darting from side to side, but never really focusing on anything. 

Three months? No, it should be longer. What aren’t I doing right? 

His mind swirls as his body moves along automatically. 

What’s different? What am I missing? 

He knocks on his temple, trying to jiggle out that last bit of information that’s on the tip of his tongue, but just won’t leap out for him. 

That last one seemed like it was going to work.

The area around Vector Bridge has been neglected ever since the pass was destroyed. Grass is slowly growing between the cracks in the pavement, and there’s barely anyone roaming the streets. He turns the corner and heads up the flight of steps into a rather dilapidated building, cracks forming along the walls, and paint chipping here and there. Passing by the front desk, the receptionist calls out, “Oh, sir! There’s-” “Not now, Mrs. Ark,” he says, cutting her off. Still not completely focusing on what’s in front of him, he heads for the stairs.

Despite having a perfectly functioning elevator, he decides to go up the six flights, believing the exercise will help blood flow to his brain. He could certainly use all the brainpower he can get his hands on now. He skips a step or two at times, but always maintains a brisk pace, as he makes his way up the building. Without breaking a sweat, he finally reaches his floor. He takes a left turn, walks down the hallway, and arrives at his door.

Just as he’s about to reach for the knob, he stops. Amid the internal discussion in his head, his ears pick up on something amiss. He gently leans in, careful not to make a sound, and presses his ear on to the door. 

Voices? How curious. 

But then his mind begins to race. 

Have I been found out? 

He considers his options. 

Who are they? 

His instincts scream that he has to know. 

Why are they here?

He wonders about the mystery beyond the door.

Is it worth the risk? 

He stops himself, and for a split second, is completely still, his face devoid of expression and his mind empty, as is always the case when he comes to a decision. Taking a deep breath, he exhales slowly and relaxes himself. He knows he can never win once his interest is piqued. The doorknob in his hand turns as he pushes himself in.

“Oh, wha- I- so sorry,” he stutters, startled, as he comes face to face with a very dapper gentleman. “Oh, Mr. Zeel!” came an elderly, hoarse voice peeking over the gentleman’s shoulder. “Mr. Ark,” begins Zeel, “may I know what’s going on here?” The gentleman at the door opens it wider, inviting him inside. Zeel takes a few steps in, briefly surveying the area around, nothing out of the ordinary, before turning back around and resting his eyes on the men in his room. By the door was the sharp-looking gentleman who had let him in. Beside him is another man, his black hair parted to the side, his left hand holding up his badge. Zeel’s heart skips a beat.

“Detective Crow,” says Morgan, introducing himself. He lowers his badge then gestures to the gentleman next to him, “Detective Mr. Sharp.” “Your coworkers reported you were missing for two months,” begins Mr. Sharp, unmoving. Zeel could feel his eyes pierce through him. He’s dangerous. He couldn’t afford to make any mistakes now. He furrows his brow and puts on a questioning look, “Well, I do admit I go missing for a while at times.” “Right,” starts Morgan, “but never this long, apparently. Your coworkers were concerned.” Zeel breathes a sigh of relief. So, that’s what this is about.

“Nothing to worry about then, detective,” says Zeel, spreading his arms. “As you can see, I’m perfectly fine.” He proceeds to put his bag down on the couch. “I’ve just been racking my mind over a problem longer than usual, that’s all,” he shrugs. “I’m glad you’re alright, Mr. Zeel,” pipes Mr. Ark. “They just wanted to make sure everything was fine, since apparently there have been a number of break-ins recently, so I had to let them in.” “Oh?” Zeel raises an eyebrow. He pats Mr. Ark on the shoulder. “No worries there, Mr. Ark. There’s nothing of value here anyway, considering how rarely I come by.”

“We just had to be sure,” smiles Morgan. “It seems like these thugs are targeting specific people, and considering your position at Electrowave Labs,” he continues. “Ah, I wouldn’t worry too much about that,” cuts in Zeel. “I have little use for material wealth. My research is all I need.” “Evidently,” says Mr. Sharp, looking around at the notes and papers scattered across the walls. Most of the handwriting was illegible, as if written in the spur of the moment, rushed and shoddy. Noticing Mr. Sharp’s survey, Zeel rubs the back of his neck and sheepishly apologises, “Sorry about the mess. It’s all just quick notes that I jot down whenever I get an epiphany or idea.” Morgan is looking around now, too.

“And is this all related to why you’ve been away for so long?” Zeel’s eyes light up. He easily gets excited when it comes to sharing his interests with someone else. But just as he opens his mouth, he stops himself. I’ve got to tread carefully. “Yes…and…no…,” he starts. “My notes are a mix of different research topics, to be honest,” he explains sheepishly. “I can’t exactly divulge the contents of my research, though. Company property and all that. Buuuut I can tell you that it’s to do with magnetic waves.”  A smile creeps along his face.

Mr. Sharp has been staring at a certain piece during this entire time. Just as Zeel notices this, Mr. Sharp turns his attention to him. “Understood.” He then looks to Morgan, who is busy jotting down notes. “We’re done here.” Morgan furrows his brows, about to question Mr. Sharp, but quickly takes the hint upon locking eyes. “Oh, well, I guess we are, then.” Morgan folds his notepad and turns to Mr. Ark, “Thank you for your time today, sir,” and then to Zeel, “If there’s anything amiss at all, please don’t hesitate to call us.” “Of course, detective,” he says. Mr. Ark proceeds to show the gentlemen to the door.

Mr. Sharp briefly looks at Zeel, “Have a good day,” and makes his way out the door. Morgan follows after, and politely nods as he exits the room. Zeel felt that that momentary gaze from Mr. Sharp definitely had a deeper meaning to it, and his heart leapt to his throat at the thought. After thanking Mr. Ark for attending to the detectives, and being reassured that the complex hasn’t had any break-ins in its entire history, Zeel sees him out the room as well. He finally closes the door, and is left alone in his cluttered room.

Zeel turns around and rests his back on the door, slowly sliding to the floor. He realises his breathing has gotten heavy, his heart thumping in his ears. No no no no no. He looks around at all his papers. No, not yet. Not when I’m so close. His stomach churns. A mixture of anxiety, panic, and anger, well up inside him. I have to get away. But most of all, he felt fear. All my research. His efforts. My findings. Zeel couldn’t just leave it. He jolts up and rushes to the couch. In a single, swift motion, he swipes his brown bag off the couch and begins frantically repacking it, removing its contents, but then almost immediately stops, his arm halted in midair about to snatch the paper on the wall closest to him.

A thought crosses his mind. What if they come back? He slowly turns his head, his eyes briefly brushing across the contents of his flat, his heart panging at the thought of losing it all. His bag slips from his fingers and drops to the floor. Zeel finds himself leaning on the wall now. He had slowly been backing himself as he was looking around his room, contemplating on what his next move should be.  He squeezes his eyes shut.

Think. Should he abandon everything? 

Think! Is there some way to save it? 

THINK! In a fit of rage, he throws his head back, attempting to quell the headache that was building up. BAM!

As if trying to draw an answer out, he continues banging his head on the wall. BAM! BAM! BAM!

The back of his head had been itching ever since the police left. BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!

Silence.

Zeel is standing upright, his eyes wide open staring blankly at the ceiling above, unmoving. His head rests on the wall, the tiniest jitters ever so slightly escaping from his tense muscles, his fingertips twitching every now and then, as his pupils quiver in their sockets. The air in the room falls still.

Seconds turn to minutes. Time seems to stop for Zeel, as he remains stationary in his position. A soft wind blows in from the open window, and the occasional sounds of the outside world poke into the room, but all rebound back out whence they came. After what feels like an eternity, Zeel finally opens his mouth and a single whisper escapes his now curled lips.

“Curious.”

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

Across the street, Morgan looks up at the apartment he had just been in through the window of his parked maglev. No apparent sign of activity can be seen coming from it. Beside him, in the driver’s seat, tiny scritches of pen on paper escape Mr. Sharp’s ballpoint pen as he gracefully and swiftly jots down his own notes on a small memo pad as he goes through each photo of their researcher’s papers, decoding his illegible scribblings.

Chance had allowed them to stumble upon Zeel after scouring the city the past week. Eye-witnesses and accounts from acquaintances of coworkers and the like had eventually led them to this area on the outskirts, in a long-forgotten and virtually abandoned district. This, and one other place like it, were listed under a pseudonym, hence the reason why Nyx had overlooked it during his initial sweep.

Having had a rather blustery string of events prior to the start of their investigation, the past week had proven rather monotonous, considering no new leads on the Mafia had cropped up, and their current probe into their illustrious character would have dried up if not for the miraculous encounter earlier. Something had tipped off Mr. Sharp’s instincts, and as always, following his gut feeling would eventually lead to desirable results.

Just as Morgan is grateful that they’ve finally managed to get the investigation going, his eye catches movement from the window above. He prompts Mr. Sharp, who starts up the engine but remains on standby. They wait.

Sure enough, their quarry soon exits the building, backpack slung over his shoulders, and papers in hand. He’s in such a fervour he barely takes any notice of his surroundings, grinning as he stares intently at the documents in hand. Mr. Sharp stealthily pulls out of their parking spot, keeping an eye on their man, and pulls into the street at a safe distance. The chase is on.

Zeel, however, is completely unaware of his surroundings, focusing on the stack in his hands as he furiously jots down notes with glee, and reads and rereads them, adjusting wherever necessary, his eyes sparkling with delight. He looks up every now and then just to make sure he’s heading in the right direction. But his line of sight never strays from the path he has set himself on, allowing the officers to tail him with minimal effort on their part.

A right turn. A left corner. Straight down an alley. Despite seemingly not paying much attention to the road ahead, Zeel seems to know his way around all too well. Eventually, they begin making it back into crowded walkways and bustling streets. By now, Zeel has already stuffed away his documents into his bag, and his single-track mind is directing him on a beeline towards his next destination. With traffic picking up as the pursuit draws deeper into the city, the distance between the detectives and their target begins to stretch.

Mr. Sharp quickly pulls over, and the two alight their vehicle. Morgan runs ahead so as not to lose sight of Zeel whose head is barely seen bobbing through the crowd. Mr. Sharp is now on the other side of the road, moving ahead of Morgan. The two continue following the excited scientist, barely having to cover themselves. Just as Morgan is wondering to himself if they’re being led on a wild goose chase, he realises that they have arrived in a familiar neighbourhood.

Zeel heads straight into an apartment with no hesitation. “Crow, cross the street,” dials in Mr. Sharp on their walkie-talkie right before Morgan is about to continue into the apartment as well. Turning around, Morgan catches sight of Mr. Sharp heading into a building opposite the apartment Zeel had just gone into. Large gold letters decorate the entrance to the hotel; 「The Confluence」.

Having made it safely across, Morgan climbs up the steps and enters the establishment. He spots Mr. Sharp talking to the concierge. He wraps up the conversation just as Morgan arrives. “Room 537,” says Mr. Sharp. “It should have a direct line of sight to Zeel’s apartment.” Morgan realises why the area had seemed so familiar. This was one of his properties they had checked just a few days ago. “No wonder you were so quick to book a room here,” comments Morgan. “He seems to be planning something, to have come directly here after meeting us earlier.”

“Right. He did seem to be acting somewhat suspicious back there,” says Morgan, nodding in agreement. “We’ll have to head back and gear up.” “Indeed,” concurs Mr. Sharp. The pair have begun making their way towards the exit. “Bring Nyx up to speed. Though I have a feeling we won’t be here for very long, judging from the elusive nature of our researcher.”

Just as they exit the hotel, they fail to notice a hooded figure leaving the apartment across the street, a brown bag slung over his shoulder. The figure pays no mind to his surroundings, as his razor-sharp focus carries him forth, this time, with a very slight skip to his gait. Gradually, his bobbing head blends into the sea of people, and he disappears from view. The orange sky overhead begins to darken as dusk approaches. Night will soon envelope the city of Ferros.