Ithaca looked up from her workstation. Dannal was stood, leaning on the desk, a smile playing across his lips.

“Yes, I did. All three genders.” She said, looking back at the design work she was doing for an advertising campaign for a new form of soap.

“Told you!” shouted Oldra from the printer in the corner, slipping pages into a folder as each came out. “You owe me a soda!”

Dannal chuckled, and sat on her desk. “Weird guys, aren’t they?” He said, looking at his nails. “Ever wonder why they always carry weapons?”

“Warrior race.” Said Ithaca without looking up. “It’s part of their culture, everyone agrees that cultural items are allowed to be displayed if they have deep importance.”

“You know, like your dolls.” Shouted Oldra, nodding towards his desk.

“Please, they are vintage figurines of one of the Old Civilisations of Man.” He said, giving her a dismissive wave.

Oldra and Ithaca glanced at each other. “We know.” Ithaca said, looking up at him for once. “It’s the only way you’re allowed to display something that close to pornographic in public.”

“Either way,” said Dannal, pushing through the changed course of the conversation, “There are over a thousand officially recognised ‘warrior races’ in Botarin, all with a cultural need to display this kind of stuff, but the Orticoni are the ONLY ones allowed to openly carry weapons at all times.”

“The Orticoni do not believe in fighting a foe that is unable to defeat them.” chimed in a new voice, the clipped tones of Ipra cutting across the room. The Korin looked towards them. “As no single member of any other race can kill an Orticoni in one on one combat, their culture forbids them from hurting individuals, and the weapons they carry are insufficient to do sufficient damage to a large group before others of their species can intervene.”

Dannal chuckled. “Isn’t it fun having someone who knows all the answers in the office?” he said, and waved Ipra over. “Okay then, here’s a question; Why are they in Great York? Hell, how many are there in Earth at all!” 

Ipra typed on her console, her metal and plastic fingers flying over the keys, then looked up again. “Immigration shows that there are currently twenty-one Orticori in Earth.” Her head dropped back towards the screen. “That is an unusually high number.”

Oldra slipped her last page away, and looked over the Korin’s shoulder. “Why, how many are there normally?”

“Normally? Zero.” Said Ipra. “The highest average number is two, but they tend to be working as bodyguards for important visitors. There is no-one fitting such a description visiting the Earth World Islands at this time.”

Dannal frowned. “That can’t be a good sign, can it?”

Ithaca pushed down her worry. “It’s fine, Earth has some of the best shopping in Botarin, after all. Maybe they came to, buy some stuff?” She said, failing to convince herself.

There was a bleep from Oldra’s pocket, and she fished out her tablet. “Oh, oh god…” She said softly, looking at something that Ithaca couldn’t see.

“What’s wrong?” She and Dannal asked together. Oldra responded by flicking her tablet at the large monitor at the end of the room. The picture that appeared was familiar instantly to Ithaca.

“…to this residential building twenty minutes ago.” Said the Tintaran news reporter, her left arms indicating the building behind her, one of her right ones covering her ear, the other holding a thin microphone. “The blaze apparently started on the third floor, and spread fast to the rest of the building. Casualties are as yet unknown, but witnesses in the area report seeing, of all things, an Orticori enter the building not long before the fire started.”

Dannal leaned over to Ithaca. “Isn’t that your place?” He asked quietly. Ithaca’s mouth started to open when something emerged from the smoke billowing from the front door. 

The Orticori male was carrying two figures she recognised, her landlord and Go’Nar’Thun, under an arm each, covered with his cloak. Both looked injured, but the towering armoured figure looked no different than when she’d seen him at the tube station.

Some EMTs were rushing up to join him as he unwrapped his cloak, and manhandled the two figures onto gurneys with surprising delicacy. The camera wobbled as it moved towards the Orticori, who turned and started walking away before the reporter reached him. “Sir, a moment of your time, please!” She said, and the figure stopped, turning to face her. 

Ithaca hadn’t appreciated the fact that the Orticori’s face seemed to be stuck in a permanent scowl, glowering down at the reporter. The mask it was wearing covered everything from chin to just below the eyes, hiding almost all it’s facial features. Thick white fur covered it’s head and tall ears, but other than that, it was bald. 

“I have not the time for your questions.” It said, no visible sign of its jaw moving as it spoke. Then it turned and started off once again, the heavy thud of its footfalls audible even over the wail of sirens on the footage.

There was silence in the office for a few minutes, until the news feed changed to another local story. “Okay, you’re not going home tonight.” said Oldra. “You’re staying at mine.”

Oldra’s apartment was five times the size of Ithaca’s place, and had a spare bed already set up by the time Ithaca got there, left over from the last time she’d visited. “I can’t believe my place caught fire.” She said softly, putting her go bag on the foot of the bed before she sat down. “My floor to make it worse. Gods knows if anything of mine survived, or if anyone died!” She leaned back with a sigh. “They won’t tell me anything yet.”

Oldra shrugged. “It could have been worse. You could have been there when it all happened.” She pulled open a few cupboards. “I think I need to do some shopping. You want anything while I’m out?” She asked.

“Just some polish for this. And is it okay if I use that little tool shed out back to work on this?” Ithaca indicated the watch on her wrist. 

“Sure. I’ll see you in a while.” Said Oldra, pulling the door closed behind her. Ithaca waited a few minutes, then headed down to the backyard to work on the watch.

It didn’t seem to need a lot of work, the springs loose for the most part. A series of numbers she couldn’t follow had been etched into the back plate, and other than the cracked face, that was it. Printing a new glass was easy enough, and soon she was checking over her finished handiwork. “Give you a polish once we’re inside!” she said with a chuckle, slipping the watch into her pocket.

She was heading back into the apartment building when she heard a cough from the bushes. She turned, and smiled. “Oh Gods, it’s you!” she said happily.

Notrotu pushed himself gently away from the wall. “I’m glad you’re okay.” he said softly, taking her hand as he walked over. His translucent skin had darkened with absorbed light from the day. His skin felt warm in her hand, warmer than normal. “I worried about you when I heard about the fire at the block.”

Something tugged at the back of her mind, but she ignored it. “I was at work.” She said, pulling him in for a hug.

“Ah yes, I forgot about that.” He said, his reassuring smile on his face again. He frowned when he looked at her wrists. “Did you lose the watch?”

The nagging thought pulled at her mind again. “No, it’s fine, I’m just not wearing it at the moment.” She paused. “Wait, you work the third shift. You’re normally asleep about that time of day…”

Notrotu turned her hand over slowly. “So, where’s the watch?” He asked. The smile was still there, but all the warmth was gone from his eyes. “It’s very important.”

She tried to pull her hands back from him. “Notrotu, what’s gotten into you?” she asked, but his grip tightened.

“Give, me, the watch.” He said firmly. “It’s very important. Where, IS, it?”

“Get OFF ME!” She shouted, pulling back, before Notrotu slammed her into the wall. “Have you lost your mind?”

“TELL ME WHERE IT IS NOW YOU-” He started, before something slammed hard into the back of his head, and he went down like a sack of bricks.

Oldra was breathing hard, the shopping bag dumped by the gate into the back yard, and a short length of scrap wood in her hands. A huge bruise was spreading across the back of Notrotu’s head as he lay there, groaning softly.

“What the hell does he want?” Oldra asked, her chest heaving hard as she tried to calm down. “Isn’t this one of your housemates?”

“It is.” Said Ithaca, heading back inside. She grabbed her back off the end of the bed. “I don’t even know how he knew I’d be here!” She grabbed Oldra’s arm. “We need to go, find somewhere safe!”

Oldra huffed, grabbing a bag of her own and cramming some things into it. “But where are we going to go? If he knew to look for you here, where can we go where he won’t find us when he wakes up?”